The Valentine
A Legend
You have heard the quaint old fable
Of how youths and maids were able,
In the days when dream and token
Wove a charm but barely broken,
To foretell by sign and omen
Future spouse of man or woman.
Those were days when elves and fairies
Rode on moon beams, danced on prairies,
Bathed in rainbow mist of fountains,
Delved the gems from out the mountains,
Slept in flowers, and hid in crannies
To torment poor half-blind grannies.
But of late they’ve grown more wary
Rarely can you find a fairy.
I have caught one; but you never,
With a life long strong endeavor,
Will espy one like unto her
I have found her – I shall woo her.
In those days of fond believing
When there was no sad deceiving;
Thus the fable ran in numbers
This the power it wrought in slumbers.
The first form to sight disclosing
By the eyes from sleep unclosing
On the morn the sun did shine
Sacred to Saint Valentine,
Would invade the heart and feeling
Like the spring its first course stealing
Turning, wavering and delaying,
Sluggish oft’, but never staying
Ever swelling – growing ever
Till it rolls a mighty river.
So the form the sight possessing
Soon the soul heard love’s confessing.
Love. The strangest thing in mortal.
Half concealed in heaven’s portal,
Full of earth yet, self-denying,
All the powers of earth defying.
Purely good and blindly evil.
Half a god and half a devil.
If the new-born glance of maiden,
On that morn with wonders laden,
Could by watchful love be captured
Then love’s heart with bliss was raptured,
For the charm knew no escaping
Fate itself hung on the waking.
From that time of dreamy glory
Comes this oft’ repeated story.
X X X X X
Fair she was – Oh none was fairer!
Rare her beauty and still rarer
Was the beauty of her nature
Lighting sweetly every feature.
Laughing grace did did ‘round her hover
Wit and Virtue hung above her.
Most divine of all things human
Blushing maid and virtuous woman.
As a suitor, low before her
Many a prince knelt to adore her.
But their suing sounded dreary,
And their wooing made her weary.
For not yet had love caressed her
So their sighing but distressed her
Like the wind-sprite’s ceaseless moaning
O’er the land wastes, in the gloaming.
Once when summer skies were brighter
And the amorous air was lightest,
With her train of damsels fair
Rode this maiden to the where
In a grove a spring lay sleeping:
O’er its banks the flowers were peeping
At their faces – plainly showing
On the limpid pool below them,
Till the maidens – timorous, doubting,
Broke the mirro of the fountain.
Then it wove its crystal meshes
’Round about their soft embraces“
Forms that glowed with wondrous graces.
2.
Clung the loving water to them
And the wavelets seemed to woo them.
Soon with laughter and with singing
Loud they set the grove a-ringing.
Rousing from his slumbers light,
A young, gallant errant – Knight,
Who, with cautious steps advancing,
Saw the dashing waters glancing
And a maze of white limbs shining
Snowy arms with arms entwining.
Scarce could he believe the seeming,
Scarce could think he was not dreaming.
One there who seemed the queen.
Sure such beauty ne’er was seen!
Fair she was – Oh none was fairer
Was the beauty of her nature
Lighting sweetly every feature
Laughing grace did ‘round her hover
Wit and Virtue hung above her.
Slow he turned him from the sight
Filled for her, with love’s delight.
Straight into the town he rode
To the bustling inn he strode.
To the host’s obsequious homage
Bowed his helmet’s nodding plumage,
Begged a stall for his tired charger
For himself, a space scarce larger.
And not waiting for replying
Turned into the hall for dining.
Here a burly, huge mechanic
Seemed to’ve spread a sort of panic.
For each one forgot his beaker
As he listened to the speaker.
“_______ and the king, our sovereign saying
He was tired of much delaying
Bade her think, before refusing,
Always she could not be choosing,
And that if – ’Tis thus the lines say—
If before Saint Valentine’s day
She a spouse had not selected
She should spouse whom he directed.
For the throne must be provided
With an heir – Thus he decided.
So Sirs, tho‘ ye are not kings
Ye are free in little things.
Tho‘ your daughters not princesses,
They may wait till love addresses.
Tho‘ ye hold the lowly stations
Every place holds compensations.“
Here the stalwart speaker ended
To his tankard he attended,
While a sundden buzz and humming
On the ear took up its strumming.
And the knight, amidst this clatter,
Asked the landlord of the matter.
“What like, is this princess fair;
Turning lovers to despair?“
Then he learned their sovereign’s
daughter
Was his nymph-queen – of the water.
And he murmurred – “poor and friendless
Scarce a name – The toil seems endless.
But in spite of fates that hover,
I shall win her, for – I love her.
In the fight, that arm is strongest
That the crushing blows plys longest.
Vain may be the assault eager
Rarely fails the patient leaguer.“
So he waited – hoped and waited
Till the eve with import freighted,
Then with true sword by his side
Set he forth to win his bride.
Silvered by the falling starlight
All the city slept in quiet,
And the palace with its turrets
Seemed the filmy work of spirits,
Here and there, a light was winking.
Up the marble staircase stole he,
Going cautiously and slowly
Through a shade and silence solemn
That enwrapped each stately column.
With breath bated and brows knitted
On from hall to hall he flitted,
Past the corridors and entries
Past the careless, drowsy sentries,
Till through all the various danger
Safe he stood before her chamber.
3.
Ghostly was the heavy turning
Of the door. And fierce the burning
Of the love that now devoured him
And the doubt that overpowered him.
On a bed – ivory and golden
Fairest vision e’er beholden
Lay the princess sleeping calmly
While her sweetest lips and balmy
From each others kiss had started,
Yet regretful to have parted.
And her breath – her bosom heaving,
By this coral portal leaving
Lingered wanton, with caresses.
Lovinglyamong her tresses;
That in many a silken billow
Rushed rebellious o’er the pillow,
Veiling half, with careless duty,
One white arm of matchless beauty
Thrown with careless grace above her,
Twining gladly with the other.
Beauty shed its light around her
Purity with gems had crowned her.
There she slept – his peerless treasure
Scarce his heart could beat for pleasure.
Low he knelt and bowed before her,
Heart and mind and soul adored her.
Low he knelt and humbly waited
For what bliss to him was fated.
On the tide of slumber drifting,
Slow her modest eyelids lifting,
Showed into her ’wildered sight
Vision of the kneeling knight
With his upturned face, imploring
Filled for her with love’s adoring,
Framed in clustering curls of yellow
Each one twining with its fellow.
Faintly stole a smile upon her,
He had sought her – He had won her
Outstretched were the white arms glowing
In her soft eyes love was showing,
Growing deeper still, and deeper
While the smiles played sweet and sweeter.
And there floated to the listener
Love’s empassioned, thrilling whisper
“Oh my lover! – Oh I love thee!
None on earth is there above thee“
And the warm arms tightly pressed him
And the balmy lips caressed him.
Then the knight in mournful
Fashion
Told the story of his passion.
How that he was poor and fameless,
All unknown and almost nameless.
But she lovingly reproved him
Saying ’twas enough, she loved him
And that she him had selected
As the kingly word directed.
Thou art poor! – I’ll be thy treasure.
Thou art humble! Love’s my measure.
All thy woes,with thee I’ll bear them
All my joys, with thee I’ll share them.
Love shall bind us and sustain us,
Love the bliss of life will gain us,
Love will turn away all trouble,
Love the good and joy will double.
There will be no doubt nor grieving
Naught but loving and believing.
All my love --- Lo! Thou hast taken.
With thy love my heart awakened:
For while thou thy watch wast keeping
’Twas my heart – not I – was sleeping.
X X X X
Such the ancient tale, or legend
Of how patient love succeeded
Passed thro‘ waiting – thro’ all danger
And knelt in the sacred chamber
Where it’s [sic] idol lay a-dreaming.
Read, who will, the bidden
meaning. --------------------------
And so – my little valentine
good-night.
E.W.
Camp Bidwell
California
Feb. 14th 1875
Thanks to the Lewis & Clark College in Portland, OR -- Special Collections See also http://digitalcollections.lclark.edu/
