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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
The Maid Elect
Sank on her knees. Thus spake she: ‘From my birth
I hated those who stained our France with blood:
No man henceforth I hate!’ She rose and spake:
‘Fair King, of kisses on thy hand impressed
In pledge of fealty true the first be mine.’
She kissed his hand. Like homage paid by all
Once more she spake. She spake with lifted hand
That sceptreless appeared itself a sceptre:
‘Most gentle King, attend! Through help of God
Orleans is free once more; the King is crowned.
One duty yet remains. Within this church
I leave this armour worn at God's command:
My parents' home is near; to them I speed;
I yearn to see them and my little sister,
And tend once more our flock.’
Sank on her knees. Thus spake she: ‘From my birth
I hated those who stained our France with blood:
No man henceforth I hate!’ She rose and spake:
‘Fair King, of kisses on thy hand impressed
In pledge of fealty true the first be mine.’
She kissed his hand. Like homage paid by all
Once more she spake. She spake with lifted hand
That sceptreless appeared itself a sceptre:
‘Most gentle King, attend! Through help of God
Orleans is free once more; the King is crowned.
One duty yet remains. Within this church
I leave this armour worn at God's command:
My parents' home is near; to them I speed;
I yearn to see them and my little sister,
And tend once more our flock.’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |