Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 25, Pages 221-222
THE ANCESTRAL SONG.
A long war disturb’d your mind,—
Here your perfect peace is sign'd:
'Tis now full tide 'twixt night and day,
End your moan and come away.
Webster.—Duchess of Malfy.
There were faint sounds of weeping;—fear and gloom,
And midnight vigil in a stately room
Of Chatillon's old halls:—rich odours there
Fill'd the proud chamber as with Indian air,
And soft light fell, from lamps of silver thrown,
On jewels that with rainbow-lustre shone
Over a gorgeous couch: there emeralds gleam'd,
And deeper crimson from the ruby stream'd
Than in the heart-leaf of the rose is set,
Hiding from sunshine:—Many a carkanet
Starry with diamonds, many a burning chain
Of the red gold, shed forth a radiance vain:
And sad, and strange, the canopy beneath,
Whose shadowy curtain, round a bed of death,
Hung drooping solemnly:—for there one lay,
Passing from all earth's glories fast away,
Amidst those queenly treasures:—They had been
Gifts of her Lord, from far-off Paynim lands,
And for his sake, upon their orient sheen,
She had gaz'd fondly, and, with faint, cold hands,
Had pressed to her languid heart once more,
Melting in child-like tears:—But this was o’er,
