Lays and Ballads from Ancient History etc. By S. M. [i.e. M. B. Smedley] |
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 | Lays and Ballads from Ancient History |  |
A minstrel cross'd the summer sea,
With haste that never tarried;
A sword upon his thigh had he,
And a golden lute he carried.
With haste that never tarried;
A sword upon his thigh had he,
And a golden lute he carried.
He wander'd east, he wander'd west,
The way was long and dreary;
But the minstrel never paused to rest,
Though faint he grew, and weary.
The way was long and dreary;
But the minstrel never paused to rest,
Though faint he grew, and weary.
44
On, on he went, by night, by noon,
His eager steps renewing,
On, when the calm and peaceful moon
To sweet repose was wooing.
His eager steps renewing,
On, when the calm and peaceful moon
To sweet repose was wooing.
Where'er a castle to the skies
Its haughty front was raising,
The minstrel paused with anxious eyes,
As though his heart were gazing.
Its haughty front was raising,
The minstrel paused with anxious eyes,
As though his heart were gazing.
He paced the battled walls around,
Beneath fair banners flying;
He struck his lute of silver sound,
And seem'd to wait replying.
Beneath fair banners flying;
He struck his lute of silver sound,
And seem'd to wait replying.
He sang a wild, unfinish'd lay;
Then paused, his sad head shaking,
He turn'd and went upon his way,
As though his heart were breaking.
Then paused, his sad head shaking,
He turn'd and went upon his way,
As though his heart were breaking.
Who is the minstrel? late and long
He roams, to no man speaking;
'Tis Blondel, 'tis the prince of song,
His captive master seeking!
He roams, to no man speaking;
'Tis Blondel, 'tis the prince of song,
His captive master seeking!
Lo, to a lonely tower and grey
Once more the bard advances;
Once more his eyes the wall survey
With sad and asking glances.
Once more the bard advances;
Once more his eyes the wall survey
With sad and asking glances.
Hark to his strain! how changed and low
Upon the ear 'tis stealing;
Its notes give language to the woe
Which his sad heart is feeling.
Upon the ear 'tis stealing;
Its notes give language to the woe
Which his sad heart is feeling.
45
Oft hath he waked that strain before,
By dames and lords surrounded,
When Richard, skill'd in minstrel lore,
His lute, in answer, sounded.
By dames and lords surrounded,
When Richard, skill'd in minstrel lore,
His lute, in answer, sounded.
Each courtier-critic smooth'd his brow
When that voice and lute were blended;
Ah, if those lov'd sounds answer now,
His minstrel's search is ended!
When that voice and lute were blended;
Ah, if those lov'd sounds answer now,
His minstrel's search is ended!
| Lays and Ballads from Ancient History | |