In the Saddle: A Collection of Poems on Horseback-Riding. Various

      Oh, a bride of queenly eyes, with a front of constancies, —

      Toll slowly.

      Oh, a bride of cordial mouth, – where the untired smile of youth

      Did light outward its own sighs.

      'Twas a Duke's fair orphan-girl, and her uncle's ward, the Earl,

      Toll slowly.

      Who betrothed her, twelve years old, for the sake of dowry gold,

      To his son Lord Leigh, the churl.

      But what time she had made good all her years of womanhood,

      Toll slowly.

      Unto both those Lords of Leigh, spake she out right sovranly,

      "My will runneth as my blood.

      "And while this same blood makes red this same right hand's veins," she said, —

      Toll slowly.

      "'Tis my will as lady free, not to wed a Lord of Leigh,

      But Sir Guy of Linteged."

      The old Earl he smiled smooth, then he sighed for willful youth, —

      Toll slowly.

      "Good my niece, that hand withal looketh somewhat soft and small

      For so large a will, in sooth."

      She, too, smiled by that same sign, – but her smile was cold and fine, —

      Toll slowly.

      "Little hand clasps muckle gold, or it were not worth the hold

      Of thy son, good uncle mine!"

      Then the young lord jerked his breath, and sware thickly in his teeth, —

      Toll slowly.

      "He would wed his own betrothed, an she loved him an she loathed,

      Let the life come or the death."

      Up she rose with scornful eyes, as her father's child might rise, —

      Toll slowly.

      "Thy hound's blood, my Lord of Leigh, stains thy knightly heel," quoth she,

      "And he moans not where he lies.

      "But a woman's will dies hard, in the hall or on the sward!" —

      Toll slowly.

      "By that grave, my lords, which made me orphaned girl and dowered lady,

      I deny you wife and ward."

      Unto each she bowed her head, and swept past with lofty tread.

      Toll slowly.

      Ere the midnight-bell had ceased, in the chapel had the priest

      Blessed her, bride of Linteged.

      Fast and fain the bridal train along the night-storm rode amain: —

      Toll slowly.

      Hard the steeds of lord and serf struck their hoofs out on the turf,

      In the pauses of the rain.

      Fast and fain the kinsmen's train along the storm pursued amain —

      Toll slowly.

      Steed on steed-track, dashing off – thickening, doubling, hoof on hoof,

      In the pauses of the rain.

      And the bridegroom led the flight on his red-roan steed of might, —

      Toll slowly.

      And the bride lay on his arm, still, as if she feared no harm,

      Smiling out into the night.

      "Dost thou fear?" he said at last; – "Nay!" she answered him in haste, —

      Toll slowly.

      "Not such death as we could find – only life with one behind —

      Ride on fast as fear – ride fast!"

      Up the mountain wheeled the steed – girth to ground, and fetlocks spread, —

      Toll slowly.

      Headlong bounds, and rocking flanks, – down he staggered – down the banks,

      To the towers of Linteged.

      High and low the serfs looked out, red the flambeaus tossed about, —

      Toll slowly.

      In the courtyard rose the cry – "Live the Duchess and Sir Guy!"

      But she never heard them shout.

      On the steed she dropt her cheek, kissed his mane and kissed his neck, —

      Toll slowly.

      "I had happier died by thee, than lived on a Lady Leigh,"

      Were the first words she did speak.

      But a three months' joyaunce lay 'twixt that moment and to-day, —

      Toll slowly.

      When five hundred archers tall stand beside the castle wall,

      To recapture Duchess May.

      And the castle standeth black, with the red sun at its back, —

      Toll slowly.

      And a fortnight's siege is done – and, except the Duchess, none

      Can misdoubt the coming wrack.