Poems (Acton)/The Trysting Tree

THE TRYSTING TREE. ——

'Neath the trysting tree, on a summer's day,
 Sat a maiden young and fair;
Bright was the glance of her laughing eye,
 Dark was her braided hair:
And her downcast face look'd sweeter still,
  When her lover hied him there.

Pale was the youth, and sad his look,
 And cold grew the maiden's heart,
When the dread words fell upon her ear,
 "Beloved one, we must part!
Oh that my sire thy worth would own,
 All lovely as thou art!"

Long wept the maiden by his side,
 At her daring love dismayed;
For titles, and lands, and wealth had he,
 And she was a village maid:
But her beauty bright his heart had won,
 As she roved in the greenwood shade.

And now for a year, a weary year,
 Oh! that its length were o'er!
He must hasten forth, at his sire's command,
 To dwell on a distant shore;
And a voice within the maiden's heart
 Said, "He will return no more."

Bitter the parting, wild her grief;
 "Wilt thou be true?" she sighed.
"I pledge thee my faith by my lofty name,"
 At her feet the youth replied:
"When a year hath fled will I meet thee here,
 And hail thee as my bride."

"I will keep the tryst 'neath this ancient tree,"
 The pallid maiden said,
As she weeping knelt on the grassy bank,
 And bowed her lovely head.
"When the year hath pass'd, 'neath the trysting tree
 Shalt thou see me alive or dead!"

****

The year pass'd on, and the trysting tree
 Was stripp'd of its mantle green,
And the autumn shadows dimly fell
 Where the summer sun had been;
But the maiden fair, with her eyes of light,
 Was ne'er in the greenwood seen.

For ah! in that year, that weary year,
 Tidings of falsehood came,
That the youth had forgotten the solemn vow
 He had sworn by his knightly name,
And had plighted his troth, at his sire's command,
 To a lovely and high-born dame.

Pale grew the drooping maiden's cheek,
 And paler it seemed each day;
Her peace was gone, and the woods no more
 Woke to her footsteps gay:
As the winter pass'd, and the spring stole on,
 She wearily pined away.

"And carry me forth," she dying said,
 "Once more to the trysting tree,
Where its green leaves whisper o'er my head,
 Let my parting moments be;
I will keep the tryst that to him I pledged,
 Though false hath he proved to me!"

They bore her there and her bloom return'd,
 And her eyes grew wildly bright,
As the fitful gleam from a dying lamp
 Doth warn of fading light:
And she pass'd away with a sad sweet smile,
 Worn down by her spirit's blight.

The smile still played upon her cheek
 As dews on rosebuds hang,
When through the leafy forest glades
 A distant bugle ran,
And a graceful youth in joyful haste
 From a panting courser sprang.

One glance upon the maiden pale,
 Who slept the tree below,
And his bounding form seem'd turn'd to stone,
 And his cheek grew white as snow.
"Oh God!" he cried, "what direful ill
 Hath struck this crushing blow?"

They told him that his broken vow
 Had paled her youthful face:
"'Tis false!" he cried, "what cruel tongue
 Hath forged such slander base?
Oh, father, in this evil deed
 Thy vengeful hand I trace."

A yearning look, a long last kiss,
 And the frenzied youth was gone;
They mark'd his pallid cheek with dread,
 As he madly hurried on,
Nor look'd he from that trying hour
 His father's face upon.

The old man died, bowed down by grief
 For the wrong that he had done,
And praying with his parting breath
 To gaze upon his son,
Who came no more with a smile to bless
 The long repentant one.

His castle proud to ruins fell,
 Doom'd lonely e'er to be,
And nought was left of that ancient race
 Save a tearful memory
Of the missing youth, and the maid who died
 Beneath the trysting tree!
H. A.