The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes - Volume 1 by George MacDonald (series like harry potter .txt) 📕

/> Julian .
Did I say so, my Lilia?
I answered but your last objections thus;
I had a different answer for the first.

Lilia .
No, no; I cannot, cannot, dare not do it.

Julian .
Lilia, you will not doubt my love; you cannot.
-I would have told you all before, but thought,
Foolishly, you would feel the same as I;-
I have lived longer, thought more, seen much more;
I would not hurt your body, less your soul,
For all the blessedness your love can give:
For love's sake weigh the weight of what I say.
Think not that must be right which you have heard
From infancy-it may--

[ Enter the Steward in haste, pale, breathless, and bleeding .]

Steward .
My lord, there's such an uproar in the town!
They call you murderer and heretic.
The officers of justice, with a monk,
And the new Count Nembroni, accompanied
By a fierce mob with torches, howling out
For justice on you, madly cursing you!
They caught a glimpse of me as I returned,
And stones and sticks flew round me like a storm;
But I escaped them, old man as I am,
And was in time to bar the castle-gates.-
Would heaven we had not cast those mounds, and shut
The river from the moat!

[ Distant yells and cries .]

Escape, my lord!

Julian
( calmly ).
Will the gates hold them out awhile, my Joseph?

Steward .
A little while, my lord; but those damned torches!
Oh, for twelve feet of water round the walls!

Julian .
Leave us, good Joseph; watch them from a window,
And tell us of their progress.

[JOSEPH goes. Sounds approach .]

Farewell, Lilia!

[ Putting his arm round her. She stands like stone .]

Fear of a coward's name shall not detain me.
My presence would but bring down evil on you,
My heart's beloved; yes, all the ill you fear,
The terrible things that you have imaged out
If you fled with me. They will not hurt you,
If you be not polluted by my presence.

[ Light from without flares on the wall .]

They've fired the gate.

[ An outburst of mingled cries .]

Steward
( entering ).
They've fired the gate, my lord!

Julian .
Well, put yourself in safety, my dear Joseph.
You and old Agata tell all the truth,
And they'll forgive you. It will not hurt me;
I shall be safe-you know me-never fear.

Steward .
God grant it may be so. Farewell, dear lord!

[ Is going .]

Julian .
But add, it was in vain; the signorina
Would not consent; therefore I fled alone.

[LILIA stands as before .]

Steward .
Can it be so? Good-bye, good-bye, my master!

[Goes.]

Julian .
Put your arms round me once, my Lilia.
Not once?-not once at parting?

[ Rushing feet up the stairs, and along the galleries .]

O God! farewell!

[ He clasps her to his heart; leaves her; pushes back the
panel, flings open a door, enters, and closes both
behind him . LILIA starts suddenly from her fixed bewilderment,
and flies after him, but forgets to close
the panel .]

Lilia .
Julian! Julian!

[ The trampling offset and clamour of voices. The door
of the room is flung open. Enter the foremost of
the mob .]

1st .
I was sure I saw light here! There it is, burning still!

2nd .
Nobody here? Praise the devil! he minds his
own. Look under the bed, Gian.

3rd .
Nothing there.

4th .
Another door! another door! He's in a trap
now, and will soon be in hell! ( Opening the door with
difficulty .) The devil had better leave him, and make up
the fire at home-he'll be cold by and by. ( Rushes into
the inner room .) Follow me, boys! [The rest follow.]

Voices from within .
I have him! I have him! Curse
your claws! Why do you fix them on me, you crab? You
won't pick up the fiend-spawn so easily, I can tell you.
Bring the light there, will you? ( One runs out for the
light .) A trap! a trap! and a stair, down in the wall!
The hell-faggot's gone! After him, after him, noodles!

[ Sound of descending footsteps. Others rush in with
torches and follow .]

* * * * *

SCENE XIX.- The river-side . LILIA seated in the boat ; JULIAN
handing her the bags .

Julian .
There! One at a time!-Take care, love; it
is heavy.-
Put them right in the middle, of the boat:
Gold makes good ballast.

[ A loud shout. He steps in and casts the chain loose,
then pushes gently off .]

Look how the torches gleam
Among the trees. Thank God, we have escaped!

[ He rows swiftly off. The torches come nearer, with
cries of search .]

( In a low tone .) Slip down, my Lilia; lie at full length
In the bottom of the boat; your dress is white,
And would return the torches' glare. I fear
The damp night-air will hurt you, dressed like this.

[ Pulling off his coat, and laying it over her .]

Now for a strong pull with my muffled oars!
The water mutters Spanish in its sleep.
My beautiful! my bride! my spirit's wife!
God-given, and God-restored! My heart exults,
Hovering about thee, beautiful! my soul!-
Once round the headland, I will set the sail;
The fair wind bloweth right adown the stream.
Dear wind, dear stream, dear stars, dear heart of all,
White angel lying in my little boat!
Strange that my boyhood's skill with sail and helm,
Oft steering safely 'twixt the winding banks,
Should make me rich with womanhood and life!

[ The boat rounds the headland , JULIAN singing .]

SONG.

Thou hast been blowing leaves, O wind of strife,
Wan, curled, boat-like leaves, that ran and fled;
Unresting yet, though folded up from life;
Sleepless, though cast among the unwaking dead!
Out to the ocean fleet and float;
Blow, blow my little leaf-like boat.

O wind of strife, to us a wedding wind,
O cover me with kisses of her mouth;
Blow thou our souls together, heart and mind;
To narrowing northern lines, blow from the south!
Out to the ocean fleet and float;
Blow, blow my little leaf-like boat.

Thou hast been blowing many a drifting thing
From circling cove down to the unsheltered sea;
Thou blowest to the sea my blue sail's wing,
Us to a new love-lit futurity:
Out to the ocean fleet and float;
Blow, blow my little leaf-like boat.


PART III.


And weep not, though the Beautiful decay
Within thy heart, as daily in thine eyes;
Thy heart must have its autumn, its pale skies,
Leading, mayhap, to winter's dim dismay.
Yet doubt not. Beauty doth not pass away;
Her form departs not, though her body dies.
Secure beneath the earth the snowdrop lies,
Waiting the spring's young resurrection-day,
Through the kind nurture of the winter cold.
Nor seek thou by vain effort to revive
The summer-time, when roses were alive;
Do thou thy work-be willing to be old:
Thy sorrow is the husk that doth infold
A gorgeous June, for which thou need'st not strive.


Time: Five years later .

SCENE I.- Night. London. A large meanly furnished room; a single candle on the table; a child asleep in a little crib . JULIAN
sits by the table, reading in a low voice out of a book. He looks older, and his hair is lined with grey; his eyes look clearer .

Julian .
What is this? let me see; 'tis called The Singer :

"Melchah stood looking on the corpse of his son, and spoke not. At length he broke the silence and said: 'He hath told his tale to the Immortals.' Abdiel, the friend of him that was dead, asked him what he meant by the words. The old man, still regarding the dead body, spake as follows:-"

"Three years ago, I fell asleep on the summit of the hill Yarib; and there I dreamed a dream. I thought I lay at the foot of a cliff, near the top of a great mountain; for beneath me