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 | The Poetical Works of (Richard Monckton Milnes) Lord Houghton |  |
259
BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN.
A BRETON BALLAD.
I.
'Twas on the field of Navarrète,
When Trestamare had sought
From English arms a safe retreat,
Du Guesclin stood and fought:
And to the brave Black Prince alone
He yielded up his sword;—
So we must sing in mournful tone,
Until it be restored;—
When Trestamare had sought
From English arms a safe retreat,
Du Guesclin stood and fought:
And to the brave Black Prince alone
He yielded up his sword;—
So we must sing in mournful tone,
Until it be restored;—
CHORUS.
Spin, spin, maidens of Brittany,And let not your Litany
Come to an end,
Before you have prayed
The Virgin to aid
Bertrand du Guesclin, our Hero and Friend.
II.
The Black Prince is a gentle knight;
And bade Du Guesclin name
What ransom would be fit and right
For his renown and fame;
“A question hard,”—says he, “yet since
Hard Fortune on me frowns,
I could not tell you less, good Prince,
Than twenty thousand crowns.”
And bade Du Guesclin name
260
For his renown and fame;
“A question hard,”—says he, “yet since
Hard Fortune on me frowns,
I could not tell you less, good Prince,
Than twenty thousand crowns.”
CHORUS.
Spin, spin, &c.III.
“Where find you all that gold, Sir Knight?
I would not have you end
Your days in sloth and undelight
Away from home and friend:”
“O Prince of generous heart and just!
Let all your fears be stayed;
For my twenty thousand crowns I trust
To every Breton maid.”
I would not have you end
Your days in sloth and undelight
Away from home and friend:”
“O Prince of generous heart and just!
Let all your fears be stayed;
For my twenty thousand crowns I trust
To every Breton maid.”
CHORUS.
Spin, spin, &c.IV.
And he is not deceived, for we
Will never let him pine
In stranger towers beyond the sea,
Like a jewel in the mine!
No work but this shall be begun,—
We will not rest or dream,
Till twenty thousand crowns are spun
Du Guesclin to redeem.
Will never let him pine
In stranger towers beyond the sea,
Like a jewel in the mine!
261
We will not rest or dream,
Till twenty thousand crowns are spun
Du Guesclin to redeem.
CHORUS.
Spin, spin, &c.V.
The Bride shall grudge the marriage morn,
And feel her joy a crime;
The mother shall wean her eldest-born
A month before its time;
No festal day shall idle by,
No hour uncounted stand,
The grandame in her bed shall die
With the spindle in her hand:
And feel her joy a crime;
The mother shall wean her eldest-born
A month before its time;
No festal day shall idle by,
No hour uncounted stand,
The grandame in her bed shall die
With the spindle in her hand:
CHORUS.
Spin, spin, women of Brittany,Nor let your Litany
Come to an end,
Before you have prayed
The Virgin to aid
Bertrand du Guesclin, our Hero and Friend.
| The Poetical Works of (Richard Monckton Milnes) Lord Houghton | |