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Poem by Edwin Arnold
The robing is done, The bells have begun. And the bride is as bright is as a rising sun. And her cheeks that gleam, And her smiles that beam, Laugh at her tear-drops too light to stream. The bridegroom gay Goeth first on the way, Featly and free as a bridegroom may; With a glance of pride For the bonny bride, Like ivy to elm clinging close at his side. And one is waiting The gallant mating Close by the church at the convent grating, Gnawing his lip With an angry grip, Till down on his beard the blood doth drip. The light plume dances, The proud steed prances, Gaily along the good show advances; With mantle untied And cap at his side The stranger is pressing to reach the bride. And strange their meeting— No courtly greeting,— But a frightened look and a fierce heart beating, Through silk and brocade He urges a blade, And the cold steel point at her heart is stayed. And a quiet word, Through the silence heard, Comes, ere the foremost a foot hath stirred— "My love was great, "She paid it with hate, "One dagger will serve for a double fate." The bridegroom gay Looked once at the clay And maddened, and howled his life away. And the three souls dwell, So the friars tell, Two in high heaven, and one in hell.
Edwin Arnold's other poems:
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