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half-closed eyes a glory gleamed, As though from some sweet face and golden hair, And on his breast were laid soft hands and fair, And a sweet voice was ringing in his ears, Broken as if with flow of joyous tears; "Ogier, sweet friend, hast thou not tarried long? Alas! thine hundred years of strife and wrong!" Then he found voice to say, "Alas! dear Lord, Too long, too long; and yet one little word Right many a year agone had brought me here." Then to his face that face was drawn anear, He felt his head raised up and gently laid On some kind knee, again the sweet voice said, "Nay, Ogier, nay, not yet, not yet, dear friend! Who knoweth when our linked life shall end, Since thou art come unto mine arms at last, And all the turmoil of the world is past? Why do I linger ere I see thy face As I desired it in that mourning place So many years ago--so many years, Thou knewest not thy love and all her fears?" "Alas!" he said, "what mockery then is this That thou wilt speak to me of earthly bliss? No longer can I think upon the earth, Have I not done with all its grief and mirth? Yes, I was Ogier once, but if my love Should come once more my dying heart to move, Then must she come from 'neath the milk-white walls Whereon to-day the hawthorn blossom falls Outside St. Omer's--art thou she? her name Which I remembered once mid death and fame Is clean forgotten now; but yesterday, Meseems, our son, upon her bosom lay: Baldwin the fair--what hast thou done with him Since Charlot slew him? All, mine eyes wax dim; Woman, forbear! wilt thou not let me die? Did I forget thee in the days gone by? Then let me die, that we may meet again!" He tried to move from her, but all in vain, For life had well-nigh left him, but withal He felt a kiss upon his forehead fall, And could not speak; he felt slim fingers fair Move to his mighty sword-worn hand, and there Set on some ring, and still he could not speak, And once more sleep weighed down his eyelids weak. * * * * * But, ah! what land was this he woke unto? What joy was this that filled his heart anew? Had he then gained the very Paradise? Trembling, he durst not at the first arise, Although no more he felt the pain of eld, Nor durst he raise his eyes that now beheld Beside him the white flowers and blades of grass; He durst not spe
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