MAUDE CLARE.
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ut of the church she followed themWith a lofty step and mien:His bride was like a village maid,Maude Clare was like a queen. "Son Thomas," his lady mother said,With smiles, almost with tears:"May Nell and you but live as trueAs we have done for years; "Your father thirty years agoHad just your tale to tell;But he was not so pale as you,Nor I so pale as Nell." My lord was pale with inward strife,And Nell was pale with pride;My lord gazed long on pale Maude ClareOr ever he kissed the bride. "Lo, I have brought my gift, my lord,Have brought my gift," she said:"To bless the hearth, to bless the board,To bless the marriage-bed. "Here's my half of the golden chainYou wore about your neck,That day we waded ankle-deepFor lilies in the beck: "Here's my half of the faded leavesWe plucked from budding bough,With feet amongst the lily-leaves,--The lilies are budding now." He strove to match her scorn with scorn,He faltered in his place:"Lady," he said,--"Maude Clare," he said,--"Maude Clare":--and hid his face. She turned to Nell: "My Lady Nell,I have a gift for you;Though, were it fruit, the bloom were gone,Or, were it flowers, the dew. "Take my share of a fickle heart,Mine of a paltry love:Take it or leave it as you will,I wash my hands thereof." "And what you leave," said Nell, "I'll take,And what you spurn, I'll wear;For he's my lord for better and worse,And him I love, Maude Clare. "Yea, though you're taller by the head,More wise, and much more fair;I'll love him till he loves me best,Me best of all, Maude Clare."
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