Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes Charlotte, Emily, Anne Brontë (Illustrated) (400 page)

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Authors: CHARLOTTE BRONTE,EMILY BRONTE,ANNE BRONTE,PATRICK BRONTE,ELIZABETH GASKELL

BOOK: Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes Charlotte, Emily, Anne Brontë (Illustrated)
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Ten thousand might mine eyes recall,
Which from their lids ran blinding fast,
In hours of grief, yet scarcely past;
Well mayst thou speak of love to me,
For, oh!
 
most truly — I love thee!
 
Yet smile — for we are happy now.
Whence, then, that sadness on thy brow?
What sayst thou?” We muse once again,
Ere long, be severed by the main!”
I knew not this — I deemed no more
Thy step would err from Britain’s shore.
 
“Duty commands!” ‘Tis true — ‘tis just;
Thy slightest word I wholly trust,
Nor by request, nor faintest sigh,
Would I to turn thy purpose try;
But, William, hear my solemn vow —
 
Hear and confirm! — with thee I go.
 
“Distance and suffering,” didst thou say?
“Danger by night, and toil by day?”
Oh, idle words and vain are these;
Hear me! I cross with thee the seas.
Such risk as thou must meet and dare,
I — thy true wife — will duly share.
 
Passive, at home, I will not pine;
Thy toils, thy perils shall be mine;
Grant this — and be hereafter paid
By a warm heart’s devoted aid:
‘Tis granted — with that yielding kiss,
Entered my soul unmingled bliss.
 
Thanks, William, thanks! thy love has joy,
Pure, undefiled with base alloy;
‘Tis not a passion, false and blind,
Inspires, enchains, absorbs my mind;
Worthy, I feel, art thou to be
Loved with my perfect energy.
 
This evening now shall sweetly flow,
Lit by our clear fire’s happy glow;
And parting’s peace-embittering fear,
Is warned our hearts to come not near;
For fate admits my soul’s decree,
In bliss or bale — to go with thee!
THE WOOD.
 
But two miles more, and then we rest!
Well, there is still an hour of day,
And long the brightness of the West
Will light us on our devious way;
Sit then, awhile, here in this wood —
 
So total is the solitude,
We safely may delay.
 
These massive roots afford a seat,
Which seems for weary travellers made.
There rest. The air is soft and sweet
In this sequestered forest glade,
And there are scents of flowers around,
The evening dew draws from the ground;
How soothingly they spread!
 
Yes; I was tired, but not at heart;
No — that beats full of sweet content,
For now I have my natural part
Of action with adventure blent;
Cast forth on the wide world with thee,
And all my once waste energy
To weighty purpose bent.
 
Yet — sayst thou, spies around us roam,
Our aims are termed conspiracy?
Haply, no more our English home
An anchorage for us may be?
That there is risk our mutual blood
May redden in some lonely wood
The knife of treachery?
 
Sayst thou, that where we lodge each night,
In each lone farm, or lonelier hall
Of Norman Peer — ere morning light
Suspicion must as duly fall,
As day returns — such vigilance
Presides and watches over France,
Such rigour governs all?
 
I fear not, William; dost thou fear?
So that the knife does not divide,
It may be ever hovering near:
I could not tremble at thy side,
And strenuous love — like mine for thee —
 
Is buckler strong ‘gainst treachery,
And turns its stab aside.
 
I am resolved that thou shalt learn
To trust my strength as I trust thine;
I am resolved our souls shall burn
With equal, steady, mingling shine;
Part of the field is conquered now,
Our lives in the same channel flow,
Along the self-same line;
 
And while no groaning storm is heard,
Thou seem’st content it should be so,
But soon as comes a warning word
Of danger — straight thine anxious brow
Bends over me a mournful shade,
As doubting if my powers are made
To ford the floods of woe.
 
Know, then it is my spirit swells,
And drinks, with eager joy, the air
Of freedom — where at last it dwells,
Chartered, a common task to share
With thee, and then it stirs alert,
And pants to learn what menaced hurt
Demands for thee its care.
 
Remember, I have crossed the deep,
And stood with thee on deck, to gaze
On waves that rose in threatening heap,
While stagnant lay a heavy haze,
Dimly confusing sea with sky,
And baffling, even, the pilot’s eye,
Intent to thread the maze —
 
Of rocks, on Bretagne’s dangerous coast,
And find a way to steer our band
To the one point obscure, which lost,
Flung us, as victims, on the strand; —
 
All, elsewhere, gleamed the Gallic sword,
And not a wherry could be moored
Along the guarded land.
 
I feared not then — I fear not now;
The interest of each stirring scene
Wakes a new sense, a welcome glow,
In every nerve and bounding vein;
Alike on turbid Channel sea,
Or in still wood of Normandy,
I feel as born again.
 
The rain descended that wild morn
When, anchoring in the cove at last,
Our band, all weary and forlorn
Ashore, like wave-worn sailors, cast —
 
Sought for a sheltering roof in vain,
And scarce could scanty food obtain
To break their morning fast.
 
Thou didst thy crust with me divide,
Thou didst thy cloak around me fold;
And, sitting silent by thy side,
I ate the bread in peace untold:
Given kindly from thy hand, ‘twas sweet
As costly fare or princely treat
On royal plate of gold.
 
Sharp blew the sleet upon my face,
And, rising wild, the gusty wind
Drove on those thundering waves apace,
Our crew so late had left behind;
But, spite of frozen shower and storm,
So close to thee, my heart beat warm,
And tranquil slept my mind.
 
So now — nor foot-sore nor opprest
With walking all this August day,
I taste a heaven in this brief rest,
This gipsy-halt beside the way.
England’s wild flowers are fair to view,
Like balm is England’s summer dew
Like gold her sunset ray.
 

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