• “MARY mine that art Mary's Rose,
• Come in to me from the garden-close.
• The sun sinks fast with the rising dew,
• And we marked not how the faint moon grew;
• But the hidden stars are calling you.

• “Tall Rose Mary, come to my side,
• And read the stars if you'd be a bride.
• In hours whose need was not your own,
• While you were a young maid yet ungrown,
• 10You've read the stars in the Beryl-stone.

• “Daughter, once more I bid you read;
• But now let it be for your own need:
• Because to-morrow, at break of day,
• To Holy Cross he rides on his way,
• Your knight Sir James of Heronhaye.

• “Ere he wed you, flower of mine,
• For a heavy shrift he seeks the shrine.
• Now hark to my words and do not fear;
• Ill news next I have for your ear;
• 20But be you strong, and our help is here.

• “On his road, as the rumour's rife,
• An ambush waits to take his life.
• He needs will go, and will go alone;
• Where the peril lurks may not be known;
• But in this glass all things are shown.”

• “Spirits who fear the Blessed Rood
• Drove forth the accursed multitude
• That heathen worship housed herein,—
• Never again such home to win,
• 30Save only by a Christian's sin.

• “All last night at an altar fair
• I burnt strange fires and strove with prayer;
• Till the flame paled to the red sunrise,
• All rites I then did solemnize;
• And the spell lacks nothing but your eyes.”

• Low spake maiden Rose Mary:—
• “O mother mine, if I should not see!”
• “Nay, daughter, cover your face no more,
• But bend love's heart to the hidden lore,
• 40And you shall see now as heretofore.”

• Paler yet were the pale cheeks grown
• As the grey eyes sought the Beryl-stone:
• Then over her mother's lap leaned she,
• And stretched her thrilled throat passionately,
• And sighed from her soul, and said, “I see.”

• Even as she spoke, they two were 'ware
• Of music-notes that fell through the air;
• A chiming shower of strange device,
• Drop echoing drop, once twice and thrice,
• 50As rain may fall in Paradise.

• An instant come, in an instant gone,
• No time there was to think thereon.
• The mother held the sphere on her knee:—
• “Lean this way and speak low to me,
• And take no note but of what you see.”

• “I see a man with a besom grey
• That sweeps the flying dust away.”
• “Ay, that comes first in the mystic sphere;
• But now that the way is swept and clear,
• 60Heed well what next you look on there.”

• “Stretched aloft and adown I see
• Two roads that part in waste-country:
• The glen lies deep and the ridge stands tall;
• What's great below is above seen small,
• And the hill-side is the valley-wall.”

• “Stream-bank, daughter, or moor and moss,
• Both roads will take to Holy Cross.
• The hills are a weary waste to wage;
• But what of the valley-road's presage?
• 70That way must tend his pilgrimage.”

• “As 'twere the turning leaves of a book,
• The road runs past me as I look;
• Or it is even as though mine eye
• Should watch calm waters filled with sky
• While lights and clouds and wings went by.”

• “In every covert seek a spear;
• They'll scarce lie close till he draws near.”
• “The stream has spread to a river now;
• The stiff blue sedge is deep in the slough,
• 80But the banks are bare of shrub or bough.”

• “Is there any roof that near at hand
• Might shelter yield to a hidden band?”
• “On the further bank I see but one,
• And a herdsman now in the sinking sun
• Unyokes his team at the threshold-stone.”