Part 13 (1/2)

”Sweet Mary's sister and thou my Harry, Her Harry and mine, but mine the weeping: In a month or twain you two will marry-- And I in my grave be sleeping.”

Alone among the meadows of millet, Over the stile the stars pursuing, Some tears in her pail as she stoops to fill it-- And love hath a way of doing.

THE ALCALDE'S DAUGHTER.

The times they had kissed and parted That night were over a score; Each time that the cavalier started, Each time she would swear him o'er,

”Thou art going to Barcelona!-- To make Naxera thy bride!

Seduce the Lady Yona!-- And thy lips have lied! have lied!

”I love thee! I love thee, thou knowest!

And thou shalt not give away The love to my life thou owest; And my heart commands thee stay!--

”I say thou hast lied and liest!-- For where is there war in the state?-- Thou goest, by Heaven the highest!

To choose thee a fairer mate.

”Wilt thou go to Barcelona When thy queen in Toledo is?

To wait on the haughty Yona, When thou hast these lips to kiss?”

And they stood in the balcony over The old Toledo square: And weeping she took for her lover A red rose out of her hair.

And they kissed farewell; and higher The moon made amber the air: And she drew for the traitor and liar A stiletto out of her hair....

When the night-watch lounged through the quiet With the stir of halberds and swords, Not a bravo was there to defy it, Not a gallant to brave with words.

One man, at the corner's turning, Quite dead. And they stoop or stand-- In his heart a dagger burning, And a red rose crushed in his hand.

AT THE CORREGIDOR'S.

To Don Odora says Donna De Vine: ”I yield to thy long endeavor!-- At my balcony be on the stroke of nine, And, Signor, am thine forever!”

This beauty but once had the Don descried As she quit the confessional; followed; ”What a foot for silk! a face for a bride-- Hem--!” the rest Odora swallowed.

And with vows as soft as his oaths were sweet Her heart he barricaded; And pressed this point with a present meet, And that point serenaded.

What else could the enemy do but yield To a handsome importuning!

A gallant blade with a lute for s.h.i.+eld All night at her lattice mooning!

”_Que es estrella!_ O lily of girls!

Here's that for thy fierce duenna: A purse of pistoles and a rosary o' pearls And gold as yellow as henna.

”She will drop from thy balcony's rail, my sweet!