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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
A bishop rose: ‘A year?
How many a crime a year of war brings forth!
Maid, to thy prince thy duty is fulfilled;
Fight next for France! For this a month suffices.’
Others their supplications joined with his—
An hour went by and more—
The King made entrance. ‘Let the damsel be!
She warned me early—“All shall kiss thy hand;
In pledge of fealty true: the first be mine.”
The first that tendered pledge forsakes me first;
Many will leave me soon.’
How many a crime a year of war brings forth!
Maid, to thy prince thy duty is fulfilled;
Fight next for France! For this a month suffices.’
Others their supplications joined with his—
An hour went by and more—
The King made entrance. ‘Let the damsel be!
She warned me early—“All shall kiss thy hand;
In pledge of fealty true: the first be mine.”
The first that tendered pledge forsakes me first;
Many will leave me soon.’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |