Lamoille newsdealer. [volume] (Hyde Park, Vt.) 1860-1877, 1871-12-20

DE IAtNlN. I<<AnOhA@l@Es
Short time they met-ihe Earl was stern
$50 youth :" he said ''thy suit | spurn,
Thy rash presumption blame.
Go. girl forget thy passing whim;
Coz Bot his eyes with tears we're dim,
Which all uubidden cane.
His daughters grief he could not brook,
He could not hear her loving look,
Her could not hear her heart.drawn sighs,
Or see, unmoved, her pleading eyes.
"Sir Ronald !H-as the old man spoke,
The harshness of his manner broke,
Like clouds beneath the sea
Sir Ronald, have had my day;
My life is drifting fast away,
My race is nearly run.
And if my words but how we're hard,
Forgive me that my sorrow marr'd
The courtesy to thee,
The eandor that thou show'dst to me-.
And if bid thee garner we'll
Within thy breast what | shall tell.
Think not that thine honor doubt,
/ But saddest secrets oftenest out.
Hear, then! Aiar across the lea,
Farther than wandering eye can see,
Ger hill and vale and fertile plain,
Spreads Raunsbrook's once-renown'd do
man,
There generous Nature lavish yields
Her harvest from thousand fields,
And the proud forests rear on high
Their lordly branches to the sky;
And there did Raunsbrook once reside,
His wealth as peerless as his pride.
But now"--and here the old Earl's tone
Trembled with weakness scarce its own
The vices Of a needless court,
Where spendthrift mobiles reck'd at naught
The envious pride of folly bred,
That followd where a monarch led;
: The lavish love Of rich display,
Whose pomp grew costlier every day
Have ruin brought on many hold,
And 'miuish'd even Rannsbrook's gold,
TilP-aud his head was bowed with sham
"The land is mine in naught but name
' Five years may yet my freedom run,
Then sets forever Raunsbrook's sun;
Aud the old castle must, alas ~. ..
To stranger.hands unhallow'd pass.
Or-see the curse of poverty
My darling's lord must wealthy be;
For bridal gold alone can save
NV gray hairs from an exile's grave.
= But this believe hadst thou or |
The dross | spent so heedlessly,
Glad would do as she has done,
And, as she choose, choose you my son
The young man raised his Frightening eye
"Lord Earl, he spake right dauntless,
Il bless thee for thy kindly tone;
. And what thou showest Of thine own
Hath made my grief seem light to bear,
When weigh'd with thy far heavier ear
But be the future dark as night, ..
The end is not all hopeless quite:
rs In other climes, meath other sun,
The hoped-tor goal may yet be won.
And, Florence sweet"-Sir Ronald turn
e, To where her cheeks with bushes burn
"Let me but think that thou art true,
Let me but have thee in my view,
And nothing may seem hard to do,
Nay, do not droop those lovely eyes;
For who could fail, if such the prize ?
Anaa nav my darling, do not weep;
Dut D as the long hours case..eesss sweep
d Ger thy young head forget me not,
But let thy fancy some time rest
On the far-disrant lonely spot
Where | am toilipg," Then he press'd
One burning kiss upon her brow
Once, twice, he claspd her to his breas
tn And then, with steps that falter'd SLOW
Still lingering, turn'd to 60.
Five years their course had slowly spe
Still Lady Florence was unwed;
But grave had grown her joyous eye,
Her laughter rang less merrily;
= Her sackening step was not so light,
Her paling cheek was not so bright;
And oft an unchecked tear would mar
'i' The beauty famed, cen now, afar;
For not one word from DER the sea
Had come to soothe her solitude;
But still her love burn'd like a star,
And often would she hopeful brood
On what had been and what be.
And he---the Eari--was aging fast:
The look that once was proudly cast
On all before it now was cow'd:
The naughty head was often how'd;
Nor seldom, as he wander'd DER a.
rn The fields he loved in days Of yore,
lies Did the deep sigh proclaim the grief
Which found not cen in time relief.
He thought, as he drew the end more ne
Each well-oved spot had grown m
dear:
The river flow'd with merrier tone,
The hall in grander beauty shone,
More proudly loom'd the tower;
nd, And as he on the terrace stood,
And gazed upon the old oak wood,
Each well.known trunk, each chris
glade, ~. !,
lis, Each spot he loved in childhood, mad
More sad that parting hour.
aApd must | leave thee? Is it soY
Can follies past no pardon know
q Can nothing yet my parting stay
Is this the last, the bitter day
Ye walls, my earliest fancy loved;
Ye paths, where my young footsteps re
For many happy year;
M Thou frozen tide, whose crystal wave
In summers past my limbs would lave
Ye snow-clad meads, thou happy plal