The Lady Of The Hills.

Though red my blood hath left its trail For five far miles, I shall 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 man-at-arms 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 her eyes and lips at length Where all her kin can see; Then 'mid her towers of crime and gloom, Sin-haunted like the Halls of Doom, To smite her dead in that wild room Red-lit with revelry. Madly I rode; nor once did slack. Before my face the world rolled, black With nightmare wind and rain. Witch-lights mocked at me on the fen; And through the forest followed then Gaunt eyes of wolves; and ghosts of men Moaned by me on the plain. 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 Their 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 now ... yet I shall find Her by some inner eye! For God, He hath this deed in care! Yea! I shall kiss again her hair, And tell her of her leman there, Then smite her dead, and die.