The heir of Rookwood.
225
I lingered by the way until my hound,
That had gone first and reached the lilied pool,
Set up a sharp cry. Through the opening wood,
I saw him crouch, as if in pain or fear,
And with quick step pressed on. My first keen glance
Took in the mantling lilies, with a web
Of white wet film meshed in them, and the next,
Brown shreds of curled hair and a face the waves
Flowed over.
Grasping at the floating robes
That drifted shoreward, steadying my feet
Upon the smooth sloped rocks, I drew her forth,
A woman fair and young. Her long loose hair
Curled round the lily stems, and held them fast
In its wet tangles. Jutting from the shore,
A rock whose sharp points caught her fluttering dress,
Upheld her as she lay. From this, 'tis like,
She sprang, and staid perforce, all night had borne
Tempest and beating rain. A scarlet wreath
Crowned her cold temples, and around her throat
Hung rows of coral buds. Strangest of all,
Bound to her bosom by a silken scarf,
That had gone first and reached the lilied pool,
Set up a sharp cry. Through the opening wood,
I saw him crouch, as if in pain or fear,
And with quick step pressed on. My first keen glance
Took in the mantling lilies, with a web
Of white wet film meshed in them, and the next,
Brown shreds of curled hair and a face the waves
Flowed over.
Grasping at the floating robes
That drifted shoreward, steadying my feet
Upon the smooth sloped rocks, I drew her forth,
A woman fair and young. Her long loose hair
Curled round the lily stems, and held them fast
In its wet tangles. Jutting from the shore,
A rock whose sharp points caught her fluttering dress,
Upheld her as she lay. From this, 'tis like,
She sprang, and staid perforce, all night had borne
Tempest and beating rain. A scarlet wreath
Crowned her cold temples, and around her throat
Hung rows of coral buds. Strangest of all,
Bound to her bosom by a silken scarf,
