Selections from Songs of a Bayadere and Songs of a Troubadour By Evelyn Douglas [i.e. J. E. Barlas] |
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The Troubadour Monk.
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| II. |
 | Selections from Songs of a Bayadere and Songs of a Troubadour |  |
33
The Troubadour Monk.
When the thin bell to vespers calls,
And shines the evening star,
He looks out from the convent walls
Across the window-bar;
He hears the organ's muttered growl
Through the open chapel door—
The gloomy monk in the ebon cowl,
That was a troubadour.
And shines the evening star,
He looks out from the convent walls
Across the window-bar;
He hears the organ's muttered growl
Through the open chapel door—
The gloomy monk in the ebon cowl,
That was a troubadour.
Then will he take down with a sigh
The lute that oft hath played
A prelude 'neath a balcony
Unto a serenade;
A moment on the mute strings brood,
And pass his fingers o'er—
The phantom in the night-black hood,
That was a troubadour.
The lute that oft hath played
A prelude 'neath a balcony
Unto a serenade;
A moment on the mute strings brood,
And pass his fingers o'er—
The phantom in the night-black hood,
That was a troubadour.
34
“Ah shadows from the cloister flung,
To song and love denied!
Hard narrow hearts to live among,
With the great warm world outside!
Ah tuneless throats, dull eyes that scowl!
Ah hymns of saintly lore,
That I must mutter in my cowl,
Who was a troubadour!
To song and love denied!
Hard narrow hearts to live among,
With the great warm world outside!
Ah tuneless throats, dull eyes that scowl!
Ah hymns of saintly lore,
That I must mutter in my cowl,
Who was a troubadour!
“The moon shines fair, the sky is bright;
On such a night as this,
When all the windows were alight,
I saw young lovers kiss;
White hands, where latticed panes lay ope,
Drew curtains by the score,
To hear this dumb thing in a cope,
That was a troubadour.
On such a night as this,
When all the windows were alight,
I saw young lovers kiss;
White hands, where latticed panes lay ope,
Drew curtains by the score,
To hear this dumb thing in a cope,
That was a troubadour.
35
“The moon shines fair, the deep skies dream;
On such a night as this
I heard steel clash and women scream
And jealous curses hiss;
I heard the nightingale, the owl,
Heard love, and hate, and more—
All life's loud tide, till death's dumb cowl
Stifled the troubadour.
On such a night as this
I heard steel clash and women scream
And jealous curses hiss;
I heard the nightingale, the owl,
Heard love, and hate, and more—
All life's loud tide, till death's dumb cowl
Stifled the troubadour.
“Ah to sing now the songs I sung,
To walk the warm world wide,
The lute across my shoulder slung,
A sharp sword at my side!
The zither-string, the rapier-stroke!
To sing, to love once more—
Love? No; forever 'neath the cloak
Must hide the troubadour.
To walk the warm world wide,
The lute across my shoulder slung,
A sharp sword at my side!
The zither-string, the rapier-stroke!
To sing, to love once more—
Love? No; forever 'neath the cloak
Must hide the troubadour.
36
“False hope of peace to which I clung,
Love left, song laid aside!
Poor darkened mind, poor lute unstrung,
And thou, my poor false bride!
Mad monks that chant, mad dogs that howl,
Mad moonlight on the floor!
Mad grinning death's-head in a cowl,
That was a troubadour.”
Love left, song laid aside!
Poor darkened mind, poor lute unstrung,
And thou, my poor false bride!
Mad monks that chant, mad dogs that howl,
Mad moonlight on the floor!
Mad grinning death's-head in a cowl,
That was a troubadour.”
| Selections from Songs of a Bayadere and Songs of a Troubadour | |