Margaret
Fair Margaret! beautiful Margaret!
In the hush of the twilight cold.
The sun on a dazzling throne has set
In a cloud of amber and gold;
And the great green waves, with their white caps wet,
O'er the beach to her feet have rolled.
She waits for the lover whose kiss one day
Was pressed on her quivering lips, -
The lover who went from her side away
In one of those swift-sailing ships,
O'er the waves that bright in the sunlight lay
'Neath the glow of its finger-tips.
O the sea! the stormy, tempestuous sea!
The sea with its roar and its gloom, -
The treacherous sea, how it shouts in glee
O'er each jewel-decked coral tomb!
The glorious, grand, resplendent sea,
In the light of a golden noon!
Whenever the shadowy twilight creeps
O'er the earth, with her fair feet wet, -
When the stars come out and the great world sleeps,
When the murmuring waters fret
On the sandy shore, - then she waits and weeps,
Lonely, sorrowful Margaret!
There she sits alone mid the gleaming sands,
By the shadowy ivied wall,
While over the clasp of her trembling hands
Like a shower the tear-drops fall;
And the sea brings murmurs of far-off lands,
And the blue sky bends over all.
'O bring back my lover once!' she cries,
'As I sit by the sea alone;
O pitiful Father in Paradise!
Stoop down from thy glorious throne,
And grant to the light of my waiting eyes
One glimpse of his face, - only one!'
Now the sea rolls in with a mighty swell, -
Will it bring a curse or a crown?
For, alas! no echoing murmurs tell
Of the home-bound ship that went down
Mid the hidden reefs, with never a knell
From the slumbering harbor town.
All about her the water moans and raves,
She is drenched with the falling sleet;
Something lies dark in the arms of the waves
Where the sky and the waters meet:
Lo! a victim snatched from the coral graves
Is cast on the beach at her feet!
O beautiful Margaret, pale and fair!
By the sea no longer alone;
For two faces lie in the starlight there,
With features like chiselled stone.
And the seaweed drifts from his tangled hair
To the sunny locks of her own.
The Luck Of Muncaster
A legend of merrie England.
Beside the crystal well she stood,
Fair Margaret, Lowther's daughter,
Clear hazel eyes smiled back at her
Up from the sparkling water.
The sunlight fell on tresses bright,
Tresses half brown, half golden,
While at her feet Lord William knelt,
And told the story olden.
An outlaw border chieftain he,
Of haughty mien and carriage,
With earnest words on bended knee
Besought her hand in marriage.
'My life with thine,' the lady said,
'Can never be united;
To brave Sir John of Muncaster
This hand of mine is plighted.'
'My vengeance,' cried the dark-browed Scot,
'On thee, proud Lowther's daughter!
This lord of thine shall not be safe
From me on land or water!'
Disdainful smiled the lady then:
'Thy threats are unavailing;
While Sir John owns the sacred cup,
Mischance can ne'er assail him.'
''T was Henry Sixth pronounced the charm
(A glass cup was the token),
'In Muncaster good luck shall reign
Till this charmed cup is broken!'
A hundred years the charm hath held
Its power beyond undoing;
Good luck attends Muncaster lords
In battle and in wooing.'
'And this the luck of Muncaster?'
Said the rejected lover.
'The charm hath stood a hundred years,
It shall not stand another.'
Then straight to Carlisle tower he rode:
'My lord,' he cried, 'make ready,
For Douglas comes with Scottish hordes!
Each arm is strong and steady.'
'Prepare to give them battle now,
And mete out justice measure;
Or send some trusted messenger
For thy most valued treasure.'
'Small treasure have I,' Sir John said,
'But one in casket oaken
I fain would save from plundering hand,
Untarnished and unbroken.'
'Go thou and bring the gem I prize;
Thou art no foe or stranger,
Else why hast rode this weary way
To warn me of my danger?'
And ere the bat had winged its flight
Across night's sable curtain
The dark-browed knight of Liddersdale
Had done the message certain.
'Now, by my lady's lips, I swear,
Thy friendship is amazing,'
Cried gay Sir John of Muncaster,
Into the dark face gazing.
'Swear not by lips of her you love, ―
You never more shall press them;
Bright are the locks of Margaret's hair, ―
No more shalt thou caress them.'
Exclaimed the fiery Scot in glee,
'I hold the precious token
That binds good luck to thee and thine, ―
That charmed spell shall be broken.
Behold I dash it to the earth!
In vain thy deepest regret;
Douglas shall win thy palace tower,
And I the lady Marg'ret.'
The traitor fled; Sir John sank down
Beside the casket oaken:
O miracle! the crystal cup
Lay there unharmed, unbroken!
Two thousand soldiers came in time
To stay the Douglas slaughter,
And gay Sir John was married to
Fair Margaret, Lowther's daughter.
