It was a large and darksome room,
With all the loneliness and gloom
That hang round the neglected walls
O'er which the spider's net-work falls;
And the murk air felt chill and damp,
And dimly burnt the one pale lamp;
And faint gleams from the embers broke
Thro' their dun covering of smoke,
And all felt desolate and drear —
And is this, he sighed, my welcome here?
“No—mine be thy welcome, from my lone home
To greet thee, and claim thee mine own, am I come.”
He heard no step, but still by his side
He saw her stand— his betrothed bride!
Her face was fair, but from it was fled
Every trace of its beautiful red;
And stains upon her bright hair lay
Like the dampness and earth-soil of clay;
Her sunken eyes gleamed with that pale blue light,
Seen when meteors are flitting at night;
And the flow of her shadowy garments' fall,
Was like the black sweep of a funeral pall.
She sat her down by his side at the board,
And many a cup of the red wine poured;
And as the wine were inward light,
Her cheek grew red and her eye grew bright:—
"In my father's house no more I dwell,
But bid not, with them, to thee farewell.
They forced me to waste youth's hour of bloom
In a grated cell and a convent's gloom,
But there came a Spirit and set me free,
And had given me rest but for love of thee—
There was fire in my heart, and fire in my brain,
And mine eyes could not sleep till they saw thee again.
Ah home is dark, my home is low,
And cold the love I can offer now;
But give me one curl of thy raven hair,
And, by all thy hopes in heaven, swear
That, chance what may, thou wilt claim thy bride,
And thou to-morrow shall lie by my side."
He gave the curl, and wildly press'd
Her cold brow to his throbbing breast;
And kiss'd the lips, as his would share
With hers their warmth and vital air,—
As kiss and passionate caress
Could warm, her wan chill loveliness.
