EARNDOLF'S BRIDAL.

1.

THERE rose a chaunt most wild, though low,

From Earndolf's lordly tow'r,
Amidst a scene of gallant show

That told the bridal hour:
Alas, without its thrilling tone,
I 've made the burthen thus my own!

“ Haste hither, haste hither,

The bride is array’d-
Ere the bright flow'rs wither

O'er which the priest pray'd !--
Haste hither, haste hither, -

They droop even now!
Ah, why should they wither

So soon on her brow

So soon on her brow ?”

II.

With vacant eye and unbound hair,

The singer crouch'd beside A lady, who, with queenly air,

Stood there to play the bride, Unheedful of that pale one's ban, Who thus again the chaunt began :

“ Haste hither, haste hither,

Gay bridegroom and true,
Ere the bright flow'rs wither

I've gather'd for you!
Haste hither, haste hither,

I've bathed them with tears,-
Oh, why should they wither?

It is not with years—
It is not with years !"-

III,

yet clear,

The knightly bridegroom's step drew near;

The bride's cheek grew more bright; Still rose that chaunt so low,

As if some strange delight The singer felt to croon it o'er,

Until he reach'd the chamber door :

“He's coming, he's coming!"

(More loud rang the song) -
“He's coming, he's coming,

To work his own wrong;
For sorrow-for sorrow

Is sure to betide :

To-morrow, to-morrow

Will widow the bride

Will widow the bride !"

IV.

Upon the threshold stood the knight,

As rooted by some spell; The priest, as seized with sudden fright,

His beads began to tell; The bride's flush'd cheek grew pale again;

Yet still ran on that troubled strain :

“ Haste hither, haste hither,

The bridal is

gay;
But its flow'rs will wither

Like passion's decay ! -
Haste hither, haste hither,

The bride's eye is brigbt:
Its proud glance will wither

Before it is night-
Before it is night!"-

How long the group thus fix'd remain’d,

It boots not now to say ;

But when the knight a bride had gain’d,

And all knelt down to pray,

Again was heard that chaunt so wild, While, strangely glad, the singer smiled :

“ Haste hither, haste hither:

She's won, and she 's wed;

But her bride-wreath will wither

Ere daylight has fled !-
Haste bither, baste hither :

He's given the ring;
But her fair hand will wither-

She Öll fade in life's spring-
She'll fade in life's spring!"-