University of Virginia Library

Now must you think of me as One
That in a castle hall,
While ruddy glows the blazing hearth
In spite of curfew-call,
And the broad fire-light flickers free
Upon the shield-hung wall,
Sits harping there, to steel-clad knights
And ladies fair and gay;
While further back stand yeomen tall
And old retainers, gray,
With grave and listening faces, all
Intent upon his lay;
For of the noble Ronald
I sing, and now my rhyme
Tells of far other days than these,
And of the olden time.
The good old time, the brave old time
Men call it, but I ween
That better times than these of ours
Or braver, have not been;
With stainless souls among us yet
That wear the Ermine's white,
Where strength and gentleness are met
As once in faithful Knight
With many a heart that yet can feel
As Ronald's did, the Love
That sets the loved one's wish and weal
Its proper joy above;
Yet needs the human mind to look
Unto a Golden Age,
And further back in Life's great Book
Will ever turn the page,
In haste to breathe a fresher air,
An atmosphere serene,
Remembering only present care,
Forgetting what hath been,
Forgetting all its childish tears
And all its after sighs,
How swift across the gulf of years
The time-worn spirit flies!
So fondly to the World's first Youth
As to those earlier days,
For tales of lealty and truth
It turns with love and praise.

“Fair fall Lord Ronald”
The warder sung out loud,
As Ronald passed beneath the gate
Upon his charger proud;
And greeting him upon his way,
Let him ride north or south,
“Fair fall Lord Ronald”
Was heard from every mouth;
Old men that dozed before the fire
Came hobbling to the door,
And women held their children higher
To have one look the more,
And the stout smith left the blazing brand
And flung his hammer down,
As Ronald of the Open Hand
Rode slowly up the town.
“Fair fall the noble Ronald,”
Let him ride east or west,
How fast unto his slightest beck
The thronging vassals prest;
Some for Lord Ronald's gifts the while
Were fain to be his thrall,
And some that thought Lord Ronald's smile
Was a better gift than all;
But were it for his noble heart,
Or were it for his purse,
There was none e'er followed Ronald
That ever was the worse;
And still the more he flung away,
The more was his to fling;
Above his fields a summer's day
The bird might tire its wing;
There was no Lord in all the land
So great or rich as he,
Still may the free and open hand
Be filled as full and free!
Some said it was the widow's prayer
That followed him with peace,
And the blessing of the fatherless
That wrought him such increase;
For Ronald's hand so strong in fight
(And this was in the time—
The wild old time when might made right)
Was never stained with crime;
And men around were wont to say,
When friends were cold and slow,
That better worth than such as they
Were Ronald as a foe;
He had but one word for his foes,
“Strike not the fallen, spare;”
But one word for his friends at close
Of fight, and that was “share.”
“But what hast thou, Lord Ronald?”
They spake to him one day,
“What hast thou kept unto thyself,
That thou givest all away?”

Then he made answer with a smile
And with a merry jest,
“Nay! ill it were I should outshare
Myself, among the rest;
Free hand can still hold close enough
The thing it prizes best.”
But what doth Ronald prize the best?
He gave his golden chain
For a minstrel's crying “Largesse,”
And singing of a strain;
He gave his cloak, with miniver
Set round with many a fold
Unto a beggar by the way,
To keep him from the cold;
To friend or follower he gave
His gallant red roan steed,
His true and tried Toledo blade
That hath served him well at need;
His merlin with the silver bells
That took the boldest flight,
And the good shirt of Milan steel
That saved him once in fight;
And none dared look on aught of his
And call it brave or fine,
For the next word that Ronald spoke
Was ever “it is thine;”
What was it then Lord Ronald prized
So far above the rest,
That still unto himself he kept
The thing he loved the best?