THE LADY OF THE HILLS

Though red my blood hath left its trail For five far miles, I will not fail, As God in Heaven wills! The way was long through that black land.— With sword on hip and horn in hand, At last before thy walls I stand, O Lady of the Hills! No seneschal shall put to scorn The summons of my bugle-horn! No warder stern shall stay! Yea! God hath helped my strength too far, By bandit-caverned wood and scar, To give it pause now, or to bar My all-avenging way! This hope still gives my body strength— To kiss thy mouth and eyes at length Where all thy kin can see: Then, 'mid thy towers of crime and gloom, Sin-haunted as the Halls of Doom, To strike thee dead in that wild room Red-lit with revelry. Madly I rode; nor once looked back, Before my face the world reeled, black With nightmare wind and rain. Witch-lights flared by me on the fen; And through the forest—was it then The eyes of wolves? or ghosts of men, That flamed and fled again? Still on I rode. My way was clear From that wild time when, spear to spear, Deep in the wind-torn wood, I met him!... Dead he lies beneath Your trysting oak. I clenched my teeth And rode. My wound scarce let me breathe, That filled my eyes with blood. And here I am. The blood may blind My eyesight still!... but I will find Thee through some inner eye! For God—He hath this thing in care!— Yea! I will kiss again thy hair, Then tell thee of thy leman there, And smite thee dead—and die.