hward he went through airs serene
Of soft Sicilian noon,
And sang, on level decks, between
The twilight and the moon.

But once--it was a tranquil time,
An evening half divine,
When the low breeze like murmurous rhyme
Sighed through the sunset fine.

Once, Godfrey from the secret place
Wherein his treasures lay,
Brought forth, with calmly museful face,
This relic to the day--

A soft tress with a silken tie,
A brightly shimmering curl;
Such as might shadow goldenly
The fair brow of a girl.

"Oh, lovelier," cried I, "than the dawn
Auroral mists enfold,
The long and luminous threadlets drawn
Through this rich curl of gold!

"Tell, tell me, o'er whose graceful head
You saw the ringlet shine?"
Thereon the old man coolly said,
"_Why, lad, the tress is mine!_

"Look not amazed, but come with me,
And let me tell you where
And how, one morning fearfully,
I lost that lock of hair."

He led me past his cottage screen
Of flowers, far down the wood
Where, towering o'er the landscape green,
A centuried oak-tree stood.

"Here is the place," he said, "whereon
Heaven helped me in sore strait,
And in a March morn's radiance wan
Turned back the edge of fate!

"My father a stout yeoman was,
And I, in childish pride,
That morning through the dew-drenched grass,
Walked gladly by his side,

"Till _here_ he paused, with glittering steel,
A prostrate trunk to smite;
How the near woodland seemed to reel
Beneath his blows of might!

"And round about me viciously
The splinters flashed and flew;
Some sharply grazed the shuddering eye,
Some pattered down the dew.

"Childlike, I strove to pick them up,
But stumbling forward, sunk,
O'er the wild pea and buttercup,
Across the smitten trunk.

"Just then, with all its ponderous force
The axe was hurtling down;
What spell could stay its savage course?
What charm could save my crown?

"Too late, too late to stop the blow;
I shrieked to see it come;
My father's blood grew cold as snow;
My father's voice was dumb.

"He staggered back a moment's space,
Glaring on earth and skies;
Blank horror in his haggard face,
Dazed anguish in his eyes.

"He searched me close to find my wound;
He searched with sobbing breath;
But not the smallest gateway found
Opened to welcome