The Desolation of Eyam The Emigrant, a Tale of the American Woods: and other poems. By William and Mary Howitt |
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 | The Desolation of Eyam |  |
149
SURREY IN CAPTIVITY.
I
'Twas a May morning, and the joyous sunRose o'er the city, in its proud array,
As though he knew the month of flowers begun,
And came bright-vested for a holiday;
On the wide river barge and vessel lay,
Each with its pennon floating on the gale;
And garlands hung in honour of the May,
Wreathed round the masts, or o'er the furled sail,
Or scattered on the deck, as fancy might prevail.
150
II
And quick on every side were busy feet,Eagerly thronging, passing to and fro;
Bands of young dancers gathering in the street;
And, ever and anon, apart and low,
Was heard of melody the quiet flow,
As some musician tuned his instrument,
And practised o'er his part for mask, or shew;
And dames, and maidens o'er their thresholds bent,
And scattered flowers about that a sweet perfume lent.
III
From every church, the merry bells rung out;The gay parades were thronging every square;
With flaunting banner, revelry and shout;
And, like a tide, the gale did music bear;
Now loud, then softened; and in that low air,
Came on the listener's ear the regular tread
Of the gay multitude. The brave, the fair
Passed on; the high-born, and the lowly bred;
All, for one little day, a round of pleasure led.
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IV
Who saw that city on that joyous morn,Might deem its people held a truce with care;
What looked there then to mind of those forlorn,
Who in its pastimes might not have a share?
Of her best nobles many were not there;
The heart of valour, and the arm of might.
The sun shone on the tower, in prison where,
Wailing his hard hap, lay the worthiest knight,
The proudest and the best, at banquet or in fight.
V
There lay he, the young Surrey—that brave heart,That knighthood might not peer;—he chid the day
That, with its sunny light, could not impart
To him the freedom of its pleasant ray.
Oh doom unmerited!—There as he lay,
Came to his ear the jocund sounds without;
He thought how once unnoted was the May,
Unless the merry people hailed with shout,
The gallant Surrey there, in revel, and in rout.
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VI
He thought how he had been the one of all,The knight in contest never yet unhorsed;
The courtliest gallant in the proudest hall;
His sword and name by no dishonour crossed;
Alone, and captive now, from joy divorced,
He thought of Geraldine; by true love sent,
How he in foreign courts made chivalrous boast;
Holding her beauty all pre-eminent;
And by his own good arm maintained where'er he went.
VII
He thought of her, and of the magic glass,Wherein, by skill of secret science raised,
He saw her pale, and faithful as she was,
His own dear lady worthy to be praised.
He thought of times, in memory undefaced;
The pleasures of the woods, the royal sport;
The cry of hounds; the hart each morning chased;
The tennis-ground; the race; the tilting court;
And all the love-known glades where ladies made resort.
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VIII
His looks were such as ladies love to see;For, as his spirit, was his bearing bold.
His speech, “the mirror of all courtesy;”—
Of such as he romance hath often told.
And in his hand a tablet he did hold;
Whereon he noted down, from time to time,
The heavy thoughts that through his spirit rolled;
Grief seemed to prey on him, and blight his prime;
His name without a blot, his heart without a crime.
IX
From the dim window of his cell, his eyeGazed on the revel scene that lay below;
Then glanced upon the beautiful blue sky;
The gale blew fresh—'twas free—he was not so:—
He wept awhile the captive's bitter woe;
He sang the captive's bitter fate. Erelong,
Through street and square moved a procession slow;
A coffined noble, and a mourning throng,
With murmuring lament for gallant Surrey's wrong.
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