University of Virginia Library

It happened once upon a time,
There came to France's sunny clime
A Scottish knight, of manner fair,
Gallant and gay and debonair,
With figure cast in perfect mould,
With ruddy cheeks and locks of gold,
With eyes like skies, and skin like milk—
Sir Nigel Kempstone of that ilk.
Ready upon the tilted plain,
Prompt at a lady's bridle-rein,
Foremost at feast and first at fray,
In battle fierce, at banquet gay,
At court, in joust, in hall, at chase,
Sir Nigel found a leading place,
And wielded sword or handled lance
With any gentleman of France;
And not a demoiselle but felt
Before his glance her coldness melt.
He might have chosen, did he care,
From many who were young and fair.
Less did the demoiselles admire
The handsome Scotsman's homely 'squire—
But one esquire attended him.
Tall in his stature, lank of limb,
With hair of sable, half unkempt,
Eyes set, as though he waking dreamt
And yet at times his glance was fire,
More knight in bearing than esquire.
Once chafed, so proud his looks and port,
There came a saying at the court:
“'Tis hard to read the riddle right,
Which is esquire, and which is knight.”
And then, ere long, a whisper ran
That o'er the master ruled the man;
And from some vow perchance, at night,
Withdrawn from others' prying sight,
The knight cast off his rank, and he
Served the esquire on bended knee;
Until at last the lords and dames
Nicknamed the 'squire, “that royal James.”

King Louis had a daughter young,
Whose charms by every minstrel sung,
Had spread her name so far and wide
That princes sought her for a bride.
Denmark and Burgundy and Spain,
Each sent an envoy with his train,
Who carried to the Frankish land
Fair offers for the lady's hand;
But, whole of heart, or hard to please,
The princess would have none of these.
And Louis said: “Let her refuse:
She has the power to freely choose.
Our kingdom stands abroad so high,
It needs not thus to gain ally;
And should our daughter change her state,
She shall select her proper mate;
Royal or noble, I reck not which,
Her dowry makes him passing rich.”
'Twas not the custom to allow
Such breadth of choice, nor is it now;
But Louis was a monarch known
For ways and manners of his own;
And some who closely viewed the thing,
And knew the favorite of the king
Was this Sir Nigel, thought him weak
Or not to woo, or not to speak.
So far from being first to press
A suit with eager tenderness,
The princess he avoided then,
Was less with dames and more with men,
And left his dark esquire to bear
Fitful commands of lady fair,
While he, at banquet or in chase,
Held more than ever foremost place.
And chiefly that esquire was seen
To serve the Princess Ysoline.
To her Sir Nigel was no more
Then stranger from a foreign shore,
While of esquires and pages round
Sir Nigel's only favor found;
And since she knew, or that she thought
He most of zeal to service brought,
Whene'er she rode abroad, her whim
Was to be cavaliered by him.

And now it chanced upon a day
When king and court had made their way
With men-at-arms and huntsmen good
To chase the wild boar in the wood,
They longed to let their ladies see
Their daring feats of venerie,
And so the dames on palfreys splendid,
By donzels and esquires attended,
Rode to a hillock whence they might
Keep many hunters in their sight.
The princess there dismounted; nigh her
Attending was Sir Nigel's 'squire,
Standing erect with bearing high,
Yet something tender in his eye
While gazing at the group, and there
Chatted the ladies young and fair.
They with their spirits gay and light,
Jested upon that gloomy wight,
Or listened to the coming sounds
Of winded horns and baying hounds,
Until a mot, three notes, no more,
Announced the starting of the boar.
Sudden that laughing group among,
From coppice dense a wild-boar sprung,
And passing others on the path,
Upon the princess charged in wrath.
Slain were the Princess Ysoline
But for the dark 'squire's falchion keen,
Which pierced the brute, but not before
The boar's tusks bathed themselves with gore,
And in the bold squire's body sent
Made in the flesh a ghastly rent,
And lay, within the princess' sight,
Slayer and slain a piteous plight.

The 'squire long languished, but at length
Leech-craft and care renewed his strength;
And then by royal order, he
Waited upon his majesty.
Attended by his court, the king
Stood centre of a glorious ring,
Nobles and knights of great renown,
Trusted and honored by the crown,
And high-born dames and demoiselles,
Whom Ysoline so far excels,
There standing by her father's throne,
That James sees only her alone.
Bowed the esquire, but never spoke—
King Louis first the silence broke—
“Courage is courage everywhere,
And should its crown of honor wear,
And though at home, and not afield,
Your service came, our thanks we yield.
Kneel down Esquire, arise Sir James;
Nor does that rank acquit your claims.
Ask what you will at our command,
Titles or honors, place or land,
Or aught our mandate may secure—
Speak bold and free, and hold it sure.”
Out spake Sir James, with conscious pride,
While drew Sir Nigel to his side:
“Titles and lands I do not seek,
Honors and place to me are weak;
Who saves a life may claim a hand—
For bride the princess I demand.”
A murmur went around; but ere
The words of men their anger bear,
The monarch waved his hand, and said:
“The princess may a sovereign wed,
A noble may become her lord—
Such was, in truth, our royal word—
But not a gentleman alone,
And he untitled and unknown.”
“Were I a peasant born, beau sire,”
Replied Sir James, devoid of fear,
“For justice I would scorn to creep;
His plighted word a king must keep.”
Silence a space, then sudden broke—
“Have your demand!” King Louis spoke;
“But portionless your bride shall be,
And banished with you o'er the sea,
Nor evermore while time goes on,
As daughter of our house be known.”
Loud laughed Sir James. “It seems,” quoth he,
“Consent is given unwillingly.
What says the princess?” She replied
By stealing timid to his side.
“King Louis,” cried Sir James, elate,
“The princess loses not in state.
Kempstone of Kempstone, belted earl;
See of thy master's crown the pearl;
A princess now, but more, I ween,
When she is crowned as Scotland's queen.”