Wlliam Gilmore Simms
Southward Ho! A Spell of Sunshine >> Chapter VI / Love's Last Supper; A True Story of the Troubadours >> Page 84

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Novel (Romance) | Redfield | 1854
Transcription 84 SOUTHWARD HO !

This, clear heart, believe,
Were the love I've given,
Half as warm for Heaven as thee, I were worthy heaven !
Ah ! should I lament,
That, in evil hour,
Too much loving to repent,
I confess thy power.
Too much blessed to fly,
Yet, with shame confessing, That I dread to meet the eye, Where my heart finds blessing.

Such a poem is beyond analysis. It was simply a gush of
enthusiasm�the lyrical overflow of sentiment and passion, such
as a song should be always. The reader will easily understand
that the delicacy of the sentiment, the epigrammatic intenseness of
the expression, is totally lost in the difficulty of subjugating our
more stubborn language to the uses of the poet. A faint and in-
ferior idea of what was sung at this moment of wild and almost
spasmodical utterance, is all that we design to convey.
The spot in which this scene took place was amid the depth
of umbrageous trees, in the beautiful garden of Chateau Roussil-
ion. A soft and persuasive silence hung suspended in the at-
mosphere. Not a leaf stirred, not a bird chirrupped in the foliage ;
and, however passionate was the sentiment expressed by the
troubadour, it scarcely rose beyond a whisper�harmonizing in
the subdued utterance, and the sweet delicacy of its sentiment
with the exquisite repose and languor of the scene. Carried be-
yond herself by the emotions of the moment, the feeling of Mar-
guerite became so far irresistible that she stooped ere the song
of the troubadour had subsided from the ear, and pressed her
lips upon the forehead of her kneeling lover. He seized her
hand at this moment and carried it to his own lips, in an equally
involuntary impulse. This act awakened the noble lady to a
just consciousness of her weakness. She at once recoiled from
his grasp.
Alas !" she exclaimed, with clasped hands, what have I
done ?"
All, lady !" was the answer of the troubadour, it is thy
goodness which has at length discovered how my heart is de-