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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
The murder craft
Ended not there. Next morning she awoke
Roused by a sun-flash from her knightly mail
In malice filched from her when captured first,
In malice worse restored. With beating heart
She gazed upon those arms. She mused: ‘I feared
At first to wear them though at God's command.
How soon that maiden fear was changed to joy
At Orleans late delivered, then at Rheims
Rheims where I longed to leave them—that is past!
Armour no more I wear in war for ever.
What then? My task is wrought, my King is King!
This chance reveals to me my last high duty:—
I wear them one hour more.’
Ended not there. Next morning she awoke
Roused by a sun-flash from her knightly mail
In malice filched from her when captured first,
In malice worse restored. With beating heart
She gazed upon those arms. She mused: ‘I feared
At first to wear them though at God's command.
How soon that maiden fear was changed to joy
At Orleans late delivered, then at Rheims
Rheims where I longed to leave them—that is past!
Armour no more I wear in war for ever.
What then? My task is wrought, my King is King!
351
I wear them one hour more.’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |