Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
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Sir John Chandos at Charente.
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 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
Sir John Chandos at Charente.
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[On one occasion, during the wars of the Black Prince, Sir John Chandos, the Seneschal of Poitou, separated himself from the young Earl of Pembroke, who, in a moment of pride, had refused to accompany him in a foray into Anjou. The earl soon after, while halting at Charente, was surprised by a band of Frenchmen, who broke into the town, crying, “Our Lady of Sancerre for the Marshal of France!” and blockaded him in a preceptory of the Templars. The conclusion of the story, and the rescue of the earl, is given in our ballad.]
The nights are cold at Candlemas, and the snow is on the roof,
It lies on the broad roads three foot deep, and muffles every hoof:
The spider's glued unto his web, the bird to roosting bough;
The shepherd, frozen by the fold, prays for the morning now.
It lies on the broad roads three foot deep, and muffles every hoof:
The spider's glued unto his web, the bird to roosting bough;
The shepherd, frozen by the fold, prays for the morning now.
The cressets on the whitened road cast shadows black and strange,
Wavering o'er buried hedge and fence, past cabin and past grange:
'T is Pembroke and stout Chandos, with twice three hundred lances,
And the red light that before them goes upon their spear-heads dances.
Wavering o'er buried hedge and fence, past cabin and past grange:
'T is Pembroke and stout Chandos, with twice three hundred lances,
And the red light that before them goes upon their spear-heads dances.
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Before those knights so amorous, so brave and debonair,
The archers marched. Their carol rings clear through the frozen air;
But the earl rides silent and alone, wrathful and discontent,
More like their prisoner than their chief—to Puirenon he went.
The archers marched. Their carol rings clear through the frozen air;
But the earl rides silent and alone, wrathful and discontent,
More like their prisoner than their chief—to Puirenon he went.
Behind crowd merchants of Narbonne, with many muleteers,—
Their beasts bear cloth from Brussels, and furs from proud Bergeres,
And golden silks from Alesandre and Damas cross the sea,
Bright pearls from Ormuz, Eastern gems, and bales of spicerie.
Their beasts bear cloth from Brussels, and furs from proud Bergeres,
And golden silks from Alesandre and Damas cross the sea,
Bright pearls from Ormuz, Eastern gems, and bales of spicerie.
Leaped up the beacons as they came, from roof and turret tall,
And woke the burghers, as the light shone ruddy in the hall:
The torches flashed down winding streets, and lit the market-place,
And there was joy in every eye, and welcome on each face.
And woke the burghers, as the light shone ruddy in the hall:
The torches flashed down winding streets, and lit the market-place,
And there was joy in every eye, and welcome on each face.
The knights of Brabant and Navarre, and they of Portingale,
Put down the cup unemptied, and ceased the half-told tale;
For when the horns were three times wound, the drawbridge rattled down,
And all the mailéd horsemen rode trampling through the town.
Put down the cup unemptied, and ceased the half-told tale;
For when the horns were three times wound, the drawbridge rattled down,
And all the mailéd horsemen rode trampling through the town.
The sleeping city sprang to life at that deep hollow sound,
Like will-o'-the-wisps the clustering lights ran gathering around;
And every voice united then in the universal glee,
“All hail to Chandos and the flower of England's chivalry!”
Like will-o'-the-wisps the clustering lights ran gathering around;
And every voice united then in the universal glee,
“All hail to Chandos and the flower of England's chivalry!”
Stern Pembroke, frowning in the van, brooked ill that cordial shout;
He bit his lip in anger hot at Chandos and the rout.
By all the saints of France he vowed he'd not disgrace his peers,
But, with his sixty lances, would gallop to Poictiers.
He bit his lip in anger hot at Chandos and the rout.
By all the saints of France he vowed he'd not disgrace his peers,
But, with his sixty lances, would gallop to Poictiers.
“Give place, ye rabble, mean and base!” and, without bow or sign,
He turned again his charger's head—“Now follow, men of mine!”
And the fire-sparks from their clattering heels lit all the path they went,
As they spurred down the rocky path that leadeth to Charente.
He turned again his charger's head—“Now follow, men of mine!”
And the fire-sparks from their clattering heels lit all the path they went,
As they spurred down the rocky path that leadeth to Charente.
“Now foul befall the black earl's pride,” quoth Chandos, with a smile;
“There'll come a day he'll need our help: let's rest us now the while.
And I swear, by Our Lady of Sancerre, he shall bend twice his knee,
Ere I put a lance in rest for him, whate'er his jeopardy.”
“There'll come a day he'll need our help: let's rest us now the while.
And I swear, by Our Lady of Sancerre, he shall bend twice his knee,
Ere I put a lance in rest for him, whate'er his jeopardy.”
'T is merry in the castle hall, where noble Chandos stands,
And holds a cup of Cyprus wine in his uplifted hands:
“God save ye, gallant gentlemen, ye noble hearts and true!
I pray you drink to every dame that dwells in fair Anjou.”
And holds a cup of Cyprus wine in his uplifted hands:
“God save ye, gallant gentlemen, ye noble hearts and true!
I pray you drink to every dame that dwells in fair Anjou.”
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Gay arras, Babylonian wove, shone bright with threads of gold,
The forkéd banners o'er their heads shook each its rustling fold;
The gleeful minstrels hushed their harps, and ceased their song and tale,
As every knight waved high his hand, with “Noble Chandos, hail!”
The forkéd banners o'er their heads shook each its rustling fold;
The gleeful minstrels hushed their harps, and ceased their song and tale,
As every knight waved high his hand, with “Noble Chandos, hail!”
Then the hippocras and spices were handed to each guest,
Round went the flagon ceaselessly, for with it went the jest;
The feathers waved, steel armour shone, the tabards glittered fair,
And Pleasure laughed as he barred out the frozen beggar Care.
Round went the flagon ceaselessly, for with it went the jest;
The feathers waved, steel armour shone, the tabards glittered fair,
And Pleasure laughed as he barred out the frozen beggar Care.
The feast went on, the lights grew pale, 't was very near the dawn,
But still the harp was vibrating, and still rang loud the horn;
The very warder at the gate was merry as his lord,—
When there broke in a weary squire, holding a broken sword.
But still the harp was vibrating, and still rang loud the horn;
The very warder at the gate was merry as his lord,—
When there broke in a weary squire, holding a broken sword.
“Fair sir,” he says, with feeble voice, “I've galloped from Charente,
And my best blood the rocky path—I'm worn and travel-spent.
The earl hath need of instant help, for he is sore bested.”
He spoke, and at the daïs reeled: they raised him—he was dead!
And my best blood the rocky path—I'm worn and travel-spent.
The earl hath need of instant help, for he is sore bested.”
He spoke, and at the daïs reeled: they raised him—he was dead!
But Chandos gazed upon the ground, and then looked slowly up,
Struck the oak board till the sparkling wine leaped from the golden cup;
Then bit his lips till the blood sprang out, and cried, with a look of pain,
“The fool that sows the whirlwind must reap the hurricane.”
Struck the oak board till the sparkling wine leaped from the golden cup;
Then bit his lips till the blood sprang out, and cried, with a look of pain,
“The fool that sows the whirlwind must reap the hurricane.”
He startled as the door flew wide, and a second page rushed in.
“What news, boy, from the earl—speak—speak! Do they the castle win?
Art dumb?—be quick—dost bear to us a letter or a sign?”
The fainting varlet could not speak, but beckoned for the wine.
“What news, boy, from the earl—speak—speak! Do they the castle win?
Art dumb?—be quick—dost bear to us a letter or a sign?”
The fainting varlet could not speak, but beckoned for the wine.
He knelt, and, from his doublet torn, drew out a golden ring:
“This, this, with danger and with toil, from the brave earl I bring.
In Mary's name, brave gentlemen, as you do hope for grace,
As you do hope to look upon, once more, your lady's face—”
“This, this, with danger and with toil, from the brave earl I bring.
In Mary's name, brave gentlemen, as you do hope for grace,
As you do hope to look upon, once more, your lady's face—”
But Chandos turned him away, and leant upon his hand,
He muttered low unto himself, and stirred the smouldering brand,
Then struck the log that flashed up sparks with his war-axe a blow,
And crushed it with his mailéd heel, as one would do a foe.
He muttered low unto himself, and stirred the smouldering brand,
Then struck the log that flashed up sparks with his war-axe a blow,
And crushed it with his mailéd heel, as one would do a foe.
Quoth he, “If all Touraine is out, 't were but in vain to ride;
And if he were struck down and ta'en, it would but cool his pride.”
But gloom broke sudden from his brow: all knew the chief's intent,
As he rose up, and shouted out, “We'll gallop to Charente!”
And if he were struck down and ta'en, it would but cool his pride.”
But gloom broke sudden from his brow: all knew the chief's intent,
As he rose up, and shouted out, “We'll gallop to Charente!”
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He thrust the table from its place, and calléd for his steed.
“We must not leave this gallant soul to perish in his need.”
He drew his vizor slowly close, as they rose up to cheer,
And knelt him down to breathe a prayer—some say to hide a tear.
“We must not leave this gallant soul to perish in his need.”
He drew his vizor slowly close, as they rose up to cheer,
And knelt him down to breathe a prayer—some say to hide a tear.
Then rang the hall with shout and cry, and every eye grew bright,
The helms were laced, the spurs put on, and saddle-girths pulled tight;
The seats were left in fiery haste, and sword-belts girded fast,
The maces tied to saddle-bows, and cups to pages cast.
The helms were laced, the spurs put on, and saddle-girths pulled tight;
The seats were left in fiery haste, and sword-belts girded fast,
The maces tied to saddle-bows, and cups to pages cast.
Some caps and mantles throw aside, some pennons do unfurl,
Then shields braced on, and tightened bands, to hurry to the earl.
“Advance the banners, in God's name!” the standard-bearer cries.
“Set on,” shouts Chandos, spurring fast, “lest the stout Pembroke dies!”
Then shields braced on, and tightened bands, to hurry to the earl.
“Advance the banners, in God's name!” the standard-bearer cries.
“Set on,” shouts Chandos, spurring fast, “lest the stout Pembroke dies!”
'T was brave to see the banners wave the glittering spears among;
'T was brave to see the streamers all, bright glistening 'gainst the sun;
But braver far it was to see stout Chandos, and his spears,
Break through the ford by Auberoche with cries and lusty cheers.
'T was brave to see the streamers all, bright glistening 'gainst the sun;
But braver far it was to see stout Chandos, and his spears,
Break through the ford by Auberoche with cries and lusty cheers.
The archers all together shot, the lances were in rest,
Plumed heads were to the saddle bent, stout shields before each breast;
With the sound of drum and bugle horn, with shout and battle din,
They swept into the leaguered town, and through the press broke in.
Plumed heads were to the saddle bent, stout shields before each breast;
With the sound of drum and bugle horn, with shout and battle din,
They swept into the leaguered town, and through the press broke in.
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