Part 16 (1/2)

Forests of heather, dark and long, Wave their brown branching ar, And they must shi+eld my child of love

Wakes up the storh; Farewell, unblessed, unfriended child, I cannot bear to watch thee die

In an un Geraldine's lover calls her to the tryst on the moor In the Gondal poem ”Geraldine”, she has her child with her in a woodland cavern, and she prays over it wildly:

”Bless it! My Gracious God!” I cried, ”Preserve Thy uide, And keep it still divine--

”Say, sin shall never blanch that cheek, Nor suffering change that brow

Speak, in Thy mercy, Maker, speak, And seal it safe from woe”

The revellers in the city slept, My lady in her woodland bed; I watching o'er her slumber wept, As one who mourns the dead

Geraldine therefore is the Outcast Mother In ”The Two Children” the doos the raindrop From the burdened spray; Heavy broods the damp mist On uplands far away

Heavy looms the dull sky, Heavy rolls the sea; And heavy throbs the young heart Beneath that lonely tree

Never has a blue streak Cleft the clouds since ri on the infant, Shadowing childhood's joy

Guardian-angel knows not That melancholy boy

Blossom--that the ind Has never wooed to blow, Scentless are thy petals, Thy dew is cold as snow!

Soul--where kindred kindness No early promise woke, Barren is thy beauty, As weed upon a rock

Wither--soul and blossoiven: Earth reserves no blessing For the unblest of Heaven

The doomed child of the outcast mother is the doomed man, and, by the dooht, with sun-bright hair”, has vowed herself to be his guardian angel Their drama is obscure; but you make out that it is the doomed child, and not Branwell Bronte, who is ”The Wanderer from the Fold”

Ho, of all the hearts that loved, Are grieving for thee now; And why should ht be moved With such a sense of woe?

Too often thus, when left alone, Where nonetone Froazer fro wave, And wept above thy fate the more Because--I could not save

It recks not nohen all is over; But yet h friend and lover Have both forgotten thee

Coy in Mr Shorter's collection, ”Shed no tears o'er that tomb” A recent critic has referred this poem of reprobation also to Branwell Bronte--as if Emily could possibly have written like this of Branwell: