A LEGEND OF BRITTANY.

A LEGEND OF BRITTANY.

PART FIRST.

I.

FAIR as a summer dream was Margaret,

Such dream as in a poet's soul might start, Musing of old loves while the moon doth set : Her hair was not more sunny than her heart, Though like a natural golden coronet

It circled her dear head with careless art,

Mocking the sunshine, that would fain have lent To its frank grace a richer ornament.

II.

His loved-one's eyes could poet ever speak,
So kind, so dewy, and so deep were hers,—
But, while he strives, the choicest phrase, too weak,
Their glad reflection in his spirit blurs ;
As one may see a dream dissolve and break
Out of his grasp when he to tell it stirs,
Like that sad Dryad doomed no more to bless
The mortal who revealed her loveliness.

III.

She dwelt for ever in a region bright,

Peopled with living fancies of her own, Where nought could come but visions of delight, Far, far aloof from earth's eternal moan:

A summer cloud thrilled through with rosy light,
Floating beneath the blue sky all alone,

Her spirit wandered by itself, and won
A golden edge from some unsetting sun.

IV.

The heart grows richer that its lot is poor,-
God blesses want with larger sympathies,-
Love enters gladliest at the humble door,

And makes the cot a palace with his eyes;-
So Margaret's heart a softer beauty wore,

And grew in gentleness and patience wise, For she was but a simple herdsman's child, A lily chance-sown in the rugged wild.

V.

There was no beauty of the wood or field
But she its fragrant bosom-secret knew,
Nor

any but to her would freely yield

Some grace that in her soul took root and grew : Nature to her glowed ever new-revealed,

All rosy-fresh with innocent morning dew, And looked into her heart with dim, sweet eyes That left it full of sylvan memories.