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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 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
I.
White clung the sparkling frost to the long dry weeds in the hedges,
The bramble's crimsoning leaf was crusted and curded with silver;
White nets of sparkling thread, the cobwebs, hung on the bushes,
Where spiders, frozen and dead, were swaying like felons in fetters;
Heavy and frozen the folds hung from the slumbering banners;
Muffled, and solemn, and low, came the sound of the sentinels' voices.
The bramble's crimsoning leaf was crusted and curded with silver;
White nets of sparkling thread, the cobwebs, hung on the bushes,
Where spiders, frozen and dead, were swaying like felons in fetters;
Heavy and frozen the folds hung from the slumbering banners;
Muffled, and solemn, and low, came the sound of the sentinels' voices.
The old blind King on the hill stood, and the hum of the nations
Rose, and, filling the air, gladdened the heart of the monarch;
Armed, and wearing a crown, his long hair flowing and snowy,
Mixed with his beard as it fell on the steel and gold of his armour;
His thin hands leant on a sword that had shone in many a battle,
Sceptre and prop of a realm guarded from Mahomet's children;
His helm was crested with plumes, spoils of the birds of the desert,
A triple white feather and crest glittered high over his visor.
At his feet knelt, praying, his son, armed and prepared for the saddle;
His charger, pawing the ground, neighed by the open pavilion,
Ardent as hound for the chase, eager to leap on the lances.
The king spake never a word, but lifted his eyes unto heaven,
And his tears fell trickling fast as he muttered a prayer and a blessing;
But the lad, impatient and hot, vaulted at once on his charger,
And cried to the banners, “Advance, in the name of the Prince of Bohemia!”
Then, with a flourish of horns and a burst of chivalrous music,
The knights swept eagerly on, and bore down the slope of the valley,
With ruffle of pennon and flag, and a tossing of threatening lances,
Then the blind king fell to the ground, and prayed with passionate weeping,
Blessing both banner and crest, in the name of St. James the Apostle,
The patron saint of his son, the saint of the land of Bohemia.
Rose, and, filling the air, gladdened the heart of the monarch;
Armed, and wearing a crown, his long hair flowing and snowy,
Mixed with his beard as it fell on the steel and gold of his armour;
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Sceptre and prop of a realm guarded from Mahomet's children;
His helm was crested with plumes, spoils of the birds of the desert,
A triple white feather and crest glittered high over his visor.
At his feet knelt, praying, his son, armed and prepared for the saddle;
His charger, pawing the ground, neighed by the open pavilion,
Ardent as hound for the chase, eager to leap on the lances.
The king spake never a word, but lifted his eyes unto heaven,
And his tears fell trickling fast as he muttered a prayer and a blessing;
But the lad, impatient and hot, vaulted at once on his charger,
And cried to the banners, “Advance, in the name of the Prince of Bohemia!”
Then, with a flourish of horns and a burst of chivalrous music,
The knights swept eagerly on, and bore down the slope of the valley,
With ruffle of pennon and flag, and a tossing of threatening lances,
Then the blind king fell to the ground, and prayed with passionate weeping,
Blessing both banner and crest, in the name of St. James the Apostle,
The patron saint of his son, the saint of the land of Bohemia.
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |