The beams of morning had no power The breezes came, and found the flower, They were old friends, and when they fled The rose would bow its gentle head And shake away a tear: But never raised its timid eye It withered in the noon-day flame, The spirit of the evening came, But vain its dewy spell. The moon gleamed sad, the night breeze sighed, Above the hapless flower, But none who loved its day of pride Watched o'er its fading hour. The flatterers-they had long been gone, It died neglected and alone. Anon. THE SCARF OF GOLD AND BLUE. A BALLAD. I. <God speed thee, Eustace D'Argencourt,-be brave as thou art true, And wear the scarf I've woven for thee-this scarf of gold and blue !' He bent his knee, he kissed her hand, and fervently he swore, That till his sword had lost its might, till life's last pulse was o'er, That scarf should never leave his arm, in tournament or fight; That scarf should be his pride by day, his dream of joy by night Then bounded he upon his steed, and with one parting glance, Forth rode Sir Eustace D'Argencourt-the bravest knight in France. II. Scarce had he ridden one short week-one short week and a day When he saw twelve Spanish knights approach, all bent to cross his way ; And his squire said to his master bold, I pray thee turn thy steed, For little hope is left us now, save in our coursers' speed.' • How ! think'st thou, craven-hearted squire,' Sir D'Arcourt replied, "That from the lance of mortal foe I e'er have turned aside? Twelve Spaniards are there in the field, and we are only two, But wear I not my lady's scarf-her scarf of gold and blue ?' III. Then up rode Don Pedrillo, and tauntingly spoke he,'I envy thee thy fortune, Knight, whate'er thy name may be, For if thou'rt slain by my right hand, a happy death thou❜lt die.' Sir Eustace placed his lance in rest, but deigned him no re ply; As thunder rides the lightning's wings, so rode he his good steed, And soon beneath his charger's feet, he saw Pedrillo bleed. Then up came Garcia Perez-Don Carlos by his side— 'O! dearly shalt thou rue, Sir Knight, thy self-deceiving pride!' Sir Eustace stroked his gallant barb, and with a sudden bound, Hurled Garcia Perez from his seat, sore mangled, on the ground; Then turning on Don Carlos, like a lion in his wrath, He stretched him with one desperate blow, all stiff across the path. IV. 6 Nine Spaniards still remained behind, but motionless they stood, And looked with silent wonder on that young knight's hardihood: 'Come one-come all!' Sir Eustace cried, 'I neither yield nor fly, But for the Lady Isabel, or you or I must die.' Then the Count Alcaras recognised Sir Eustace D'Argen court, His favoured rival in the love of Isabel D'Etours; And on he urged his dastard friends, and as a cloud they came Base traitors!' shouted D'Argencourt,' how can ye fight for 'shame ? Such odds were never seen before-nine armed men 'gainst one! God guard thee, Lady Isabel-my race of life is run V. Yet fiercely did Sir Eustace fight, and fast flowed Spanish gore, Till the Count Alcaras came behind-he dared not come before And stabbed the brave knight in the back—a false, disho Sir Eustace turned him round, and fixed one long gaze on his foe, Then feeble fell his gallant arm, and clouds swam round his head, And the Spaniards raised a joyful shout, for they thought Sir Eustace dead. They bound his arms behind his back, they tied him to a tree, And beside him stuck his broken lance, in graceless mock ery ; And now, Sir Knight,' Alcaras cried, 'I'll wear this gew gaw too, Methinks I guess who and blue. wove this scarf-this scarf of gold |