Lays and Legends or Ballads of the New World By G. W. Thornbury |
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THE REBEL EARL. |
 | Lays and Legends or Ballads of the New World |  |
THE REBEL EARL.
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[The civil wars of the time of Henry III. are, perhaps, the most barbarous that we find recorded in our history. Father fighting against son, and son against father. Among the group of rebellious nobles, Simon de Montford, Earl of Leicester, stands conspicuous in savage majesty. “Simon, je vous défie,” was the cry of the young prince, not, it must be confessed, at the sanguinary battle of Evesham, but at an earlier conflict, when his aged father was placed in the van of his enemies.]
Down on dark rebel host
The aged monarch's gazing;
Red as the boding comet
The dragon banner 's blazing.
Shrill through the sunny sky
Rang out the prince's cry,
Loud o'er war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
The aged monarch's gazing;
Red as the boding comet
The dragon banner 's blazing.
122
Rang out the prince's cry,
Loud o'er war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
By the bright flowing Severn
There was hewing of the mail;
There was driving of the hammer
Through iron ring and scale.
Still ran the fierce war cry,
Loud 'mid the din on high,
Shrill o'er the tempest glee,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
There was hewing of the mail;
There was driving of the hammer
Through iron ring and scale.
Still ran the fierce war cry,
Loud 'mid the din on high,
Shrill o'er the tempest glee,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
Through blazoned coat and aketon
The winged arrow sped,
Through barred helm and target
With the foeman's heart-blood red.
Shrill through the sunny sky
Rang out the prince's cry,
Loud o'er war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
The winged arrow sped,
Through barred helm and target
With the foeman's heart-blood red.
Shrill through the sunny sky
Rang out the prince's cry,
Loud o'er war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
The white cross of the rebel earl
Grew crimson with the dye;
Fast o'er his mangled body
The cowering rebels fly.
Still rang the fierce war-cry,
Loud 'mid the din on high,
Shrill o'er the tempest glee,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
Grew crimson with the dye;
Fast o'er his mangled body
The cowering rebels fly.
Still rang the fierce war-cry,
Loud 'mid the din on high,
Shrill o'er the tempest glee,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
One knight a hundred cowards
Is driving with his brand,
Till, weary of the slaughter,
He stays his blooded hand.
No longer through the sky
Rang out the fierce war-cry,
Above war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
Is driving with his brand,
Till, weary of the slaughter,
He stays his blooded hand.
No longer through the sky
Rang out the fierce war-cry,
Above war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
123
The old king clasps the victor,
As bridegroom might a bride;
Red stained with blood of rebel
The Severn flows beside.
No longer through the sky
Rang out the fierce war-cry,
Above war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
As bridegroom might a bride;
Red stained with blood of rebel
The Severn flows beside.
No longer through the sky
Rang out the fierce war-cry,
Above war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
Robes that great queens have woven
On the red field are strewn;
Their wearers' helms are cloven,
Their blazoned garb is hewn.
No longer through the sky
Rang out the fierce war-cry,
Above war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie.”
On the red field are strewn;
Their wearers' helms are cloven,
Their blazoned garb is hewn.
No longer through the sky
Rang out the fierce war-cry,
Above war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie.”
Leicester's proud earl has fallen
Upon the bloody field;
His heart's best blood is welling
Upon his battered shield.
No longer through the sky
Rang out the fierce war-cry,
Above war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
Upon the bloody field;
His heart's best blood is welling
Upon his battered shield.
No longer through the sky
Rang out the fierce war-cry,
Above war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
Better is honest burgher
Than traitor knight or earl,—
Better the lowest varlet
Than such a rebel churl.
No longer through the sky
Rang out the fierce war-cry,
Above war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
Than traitor knight or earl,—
Better the lowest varlet
Than such a rebel churl.
No longer through the sky
Rang out the fierce war-cry,
Above war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
England may mourn the slaughter
Of Evesham's bloody fight;
There's food for hawk or falcon,
For raven and for kite.
No longer through the sky
Rang out the fierce war-cry,
Above war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
Of Evesham's bloody fight;
There's food for hawk or falcon,
For raven and for kite.
124
Rang out the fierce war-cry,
Above war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
The wild birds' cruel talons
Tear the knight's silken vest;
Shreds of the bloody raiment
Will “theek” their rock-built nest.
No longer through the sky
Rang out the fierce war-cry,
Above war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
Tear the knight's silken vest;
Shreds of the bloody raiment
Will “theek” their rock-built nest.
No longer through the sky
Rang out the fierce war-cry,
Above war's revelry,
“Simon, je vous défie!”
| Lays and Legends or Ballads of the New World | |