Far 'neath the dim mountains
The daylight dies--
And Heaven is opening
Her starry eyes;
The Moon o'er the tree-tops
Looks down on the stream,
Where the castle's broad shadow
Sleeps--dark as a dream.
From the Oriel-lattice
A bright Lady gazed--
Her eyes--sad--though tearless,
To heaven upraised.
Her brow was all paleness--
Yet beauty dwelt there--
A picture of sorrow
With raven dark hair.
She marked not the softness
Of dim vale and stream--
The mist on the mountain--
The lake's distant gleam--
She saw not the mimic
Dew-star in the grass,
Nor the pale damp that hung o'er
The haunted morass.
She heard not the owlet's
Sad song from the wood--
Nor the rush of his wings as
He sailed o'er the flood--
Nor rapid hoofs ringing,
And neigh echoed shrill,
As the hurrying horseman
Spurred over the hill.
Oh! her thoughts were far distant
Far--far--in the land,
Where her gallant crusader
Held knightly command.
She prays for his safety,
Who sleeps in his gore
By the crimson-dyed sands of
Far Galilee's shore.
The dark waving cypress
O'ershadows his grave--
A cross tells the pilgrim
Where sleepeth the brave--
And the horseman who knocks at
The castle-gate,
Hath a tale for its Lady,
A seal for her fate.