 | Gerard's Monument |  |
The sun shed gold upon the sands,
Dropped jewels in the sea,
The morn that saw them join their hands,
It rose so royallie.
The goldsmith trained his eagle sight
To look upon the sun:
“Mine eyes, ye'll have to face the light
Before the day is done!”
Dropped jewels in the sea,
The morn that saw them join their hands,
It rose so royallie.
The goldsmith trained his eagle sight
To look upon the sun:
“Mine eyes, ye'll have to face the light
Before the day is done!”
He brought his palfrey to the gate:
“Ho, curve thy neck with pride,
Mine own good steed, for 'tis your fate
This day to bear the bride.
“Ho, curve thy neck with pride,
Mine own good steed, for 'tis your fate
This day to bear the bride.
39
Ho, songs of thrush and nightingale,
Give notice to the skies,
And greet our Valery of the Vale
When she shall bless our eyes.”
Give notice to the skies,
And greet our Valery of the Vale
When she shall bless our eyes.”
The throstle and the nightingale
They raised a merry shout,
And greeted Valery of the Vale
When blushing she came out.
The throstle and the nightingale
They piped so loud and clear,
That no one heard the peewit's wail
That echoed from the mere.
They raised a merry shout,
And greeted Valery of the Vale
When blushing she came out.
The throstle and the nightingale
They piped so loud and clear,
That no one heard the peewit's wail
That echoed from the mere.
Upon her head the fleur-de-lis
Was plaited for a crown,
And all about her, till her knee,
Her golden hair fell down.
A silken train was vain to seek
In presses old and bare,
So Margery combed, and combed so sleek,
Her lady's silken hair.
Was plaited for a crown,
And all about her, till her knee,
Her golden hair fell down.
A silken train was vain to seek
In presses old and bare,
So Margery combed, and combed so sleek,
Her lady's silken hair.
40
Then by the diamond-dancing sea
They go, and if there stir
A breath, deep-laden it will be
With incense from the fir.
And so to Saviour's Church they come,
And enter at the door,
Where the groom had waited sad and dumb
A little month before.
They go, and if there stir
A breath, deep-laden it will be
With incense from the fir.
And so to Saviour's Church they come,
And enter at the door,
Where the groom had waited sad and dumb
A little month before.
The sun might beat upon the shore,
But Saviour's Church was cold;
The spices float from copse and moor,—
It only smelt of mold.
The sun might break upon the glass,
But Saviour's Church was dim;
And brokenly the sunbeams pass
The carven cherubim.
But Saviour's Church was cold;
The spices float from copse and moor,—
It only smelt of mold.
The sun might break upon the glass,
But Saviour's Church was dim;
And brokenly the sunbeams pass
The carven cherubim.
Where on the altar-steps was split
A pool of purple light,
'Twas there the bride and bridegroom knelt
Their true-love troth to plight.
There on her breast, above her zone,—
He saw it with a start,—
Christ's robe as king and martyr shone
In gules upon her heart.
A pool of purple light,
'Twas there the bride and bridegroom knelt
Their true-love troth to plight.
41
He saw it with a start,—
Christ's robe as king and martyr shone
In gules upon her heart.
When hand in hand they stood, the three,
And gazed from out the door,
The rain fell leaden in the sea,
And leaden on the shore.
And silent were the singing birds,
But loud the taunting cry
Of sea-mews,—and, like warning words,
The wind went howling by.
And gazed from out the door,
The rain fell leaden in the sea,
And leaden on the shore.
And silent were the singing birds,
But loud the taunting cry
Of sea-mews,—and, like warning words,
The wind went howling by.
The goldsmith led the frightened steed,
And caught the lily crown,
While dank and dark as water-weed
Her tangled hair fell down.
So stalwart groom, and beauteous bride,
And piteous brother,—three
Who issued forth in joy and pride,—
Returned in dread and dree.
And caught the lily crown,
While dank and dark as water-weed
Her tangled hair fell down.
So stalwart groom, and beauteous bride,
And piteous brother,—three
Who issued forth in joy and pride,—
Returned in dread and dree.
42
The wind withstood them in the street,
'Gainst forward brow and knees it beat;
The goldsmith even felt its might,
It caught his breath, and blurred his sight,
That Gerard's scarf, which did constrain
His chin as with a curbing rein,
He hardly wrested from the storm
To wrap about him soft and warm.
Quoth he, “No wind shall blow thee harm,”
And compassed Gerard with his arm.
'Gainst forward brow and knees it beat;
The goldsmith even felt its might,
It caught his breath, and blurred his sight,
That Gerard's scarf, which did constrain
His chin as with a curbing rein,
He hardly wrested from the storm
To wrap about him soft and warm.
Quoth he, “No wind shall blow thee harm,”
And compassed Gerard with his arm.
And Valery saw, and Valery heard,—
Beheld the deed, and marked the word,
And through her passion's stately calm,
There broke the gladness of a psalm
Of praise to God, and him who stood
To her God-manifest in good.
And so their struggling way they win,—
All war without, all peace within;
And howling wind, or driving rain,
Now beat against their breasts in vain.
Beheld the deed, and marked the word,
And through her passion's stately calm,
There broke the gladness of a psalm
Of praise to God, and him who stood
To her God-manifest in good.
And so their struggling way they win,—
All war without, all peace within;
And howling wind, or driving rain,
Now beat against their breasts in vain.
The wind withstood them at the door,
Where shrieking it had rushed before;
Held Valery backward by the hair,—
Laid Gerard helpless on the stair,—
And blinded with a fiercer shock
The goldsmith as he sought the lock;
Then furious turned and rang the bell,—
The turret bell that like a knell
Clanged out,—so wildly that it broke,
And all the slumbering ecohes woke,
Till man and maid came, white as death,
To hail the bride with struggling breath.
Where shrieking it had rushed before;
43
Laid Gerard helpless on the stair,—
And blinded with a fiercer shock
The goldsmith as he sought the lock;
Then furious turned and rang the bell,—
The turret bell that like a knell
Clanged out,—so wildly that it broke,
And all the slumbering ecohes woke,
Till man and maid came, white as death,
To hail the bride with struggling breath.
“From storm so rude, and sky so dark,
My dove, I bid thee to the ark,”
The goldsmith said, and on his breast
He laid the golden head to rest.
She smiled: “For that your heart is large,
O love, you take a two-fold charge;
Two waifs you save
From out the wave,
Two souls to bless you on the marge.
So lordly strong, my heart's true mate,
He will not feel the double freight.”
Again she laid her head to rest,
Safe on the goldsmith's happy breast,
And—ere the act he could disown—
Drew Gerard's softly to her own.
My dove, I bid thee to the ark,”
The goldsmith said, and on his breast
He laid the golden head to rest.
She smiled: “For that your heart is large,
O love, you take a two-fold charge;
Two waifs you save
From out the wave,
Two souls to bless you on the marge.
So lordly strong, my heart's true mate,
He will not feel the double freight.”
44
Safe on the goldsmith's happy breast,
And—ere the act he could disown—
Drew Gerard's softly to her own.
'Twas ancient Margery, none but she,
Leant on her staff and watched the three
With rheumy eyes that danced with glee.
She laughed: “We shall not freeze, I trow;
The flame, ho, ho! that thawed the snow,
Will keep our household fires a-glow.”
But Gerard frowned: “Darkness and cold
Wait ever on the weak and old.”
Leant on her staff and watched the three
With rheumy eyes that danced with glee.
She laughed: “We shall not freeze, I trow;
The flame, ho, ho! that thawed the snow,
Will keep our household fires a-glow.”
But Gerard frowned: “Darkness and cold
Wait ever on the weak and old.”
| Gerard's Monument | |