 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
128
THE THREE BLOWS.
A fair domain was Castle Rhys,
Gained both by gold and sword,
Ere wanton waste those acres broad
Had parted from their lord:
But now all friendless from the pile
Where first his race began,
Sir Powel Rhys, when twilight fell,
Walked forth a ruined man.
Gained both by gold and sword,
Ere wanton waste those acres broad
Had parted from their lord:
But now all friendless from the pile
Where first his race began,
Sir Powel Rhys, when twilight fell,
Walked forth a ruined man.
On Coldwell Rocks he stood, and gazed
Upon the winding Wye,
That, shrunk from swell of spring-time floods,
Went creeping slowly by;
And saw within a golden boat
That crossed his startled view,
A lady fair in yellow hair,
And robe of samite blue.
Upon the winding Wye,
That, shrunk from swell of spring-time floods,
Went creeping slowly by;
And saw within a golden boat
That crossed his startled view,
A lady fair in yellow hair,
And robe of samite blue.
And through the weir, and from the shore,
And o'er the waters still,
She steered the boat with silver oar
Hither and thither at will.
And then the saying crossed his mind
Of the fay of Owen's Weir—
“Who wins her from her boat of gold,
No want through life may fear.”
And o'er the waters still,
She steered the boat with silver oar
Hither and thither at will.
And then the saying crossed his mind
Of the fay of Owen's Weir—
“Who wins her from her boat of gold,
No want through life may fear.”
Sir Powel sought the river-shore,
And gazed upon her face;
And thought no maid the wide world o'er
Could match her looks and grace.
“O lady sweet!” he wildly cried,
“Whate'er thy race may be,
Without thy smile, without thy love,
The world is dark to me!”
And gazed upon her face;
And thought no maid the wide world o'er
Could match her looks and grace.
129
“Whate'er thy race may be,
Without thy smile, without thy love,
The world is dark to me!”
The lady listened as he spake,
Then with a blush replied—
“Much risks the sprite from fairy-land
To be a mortal's bride.
For woe to you, and grief to both,
When wedded wife I be,
If moved by passion thrice you lay
Unkindly hand on me.”
Then with a blush replied—
“Much risks the sprite from fairy-land
To be a mortal's bride.
For woe to you, and grief to both,
When wedded wife I be,
If moved by passion thrice you lay
Unkindly hand on me.”
And then the lady stepped on shore,
And nestled at his side,
And hearkened favoring to the words
That wooed her for his bride.
And arm in arm they sought the priest
At kirk, who made them one;
And then returned to Castle Rhys
When holy rites were done.
And nestled at his side,
And hearkened favoring to the words
That wooed her for his bride.
And arm in arm they sought the priest
At kirk, who made them one;
And then returned to Castle Rhys
When holy rites were done.
Sir Powel left, in going forth,
One lackey in his hall,
A single cow in paddock there,
One horse within the stall;
But, coming back with bride on arm,
A herd o'erspread the meads,
There met him fifty serving-men,
The stalls had fifty steeds.
One lackey in his hall,
A single cow in paddock there,
One horse within the stall;
But, coming back with bride on arm,
A herd o'erspread the meads,
There met him fifty serving-men,
The stalls had fifty steeds.
So ere three twelvemonths rolled away,
He gained of wealth untold,
His lands grew wide on every side,
His coffers filled with gold.
His sweet wife's fondness grew the more,
And still at will or whim,
The lovely Lady Gladys strove
To love and honor him.
He gained of wealth untold,
His lands grew wide on every side,
His coffers filled with gold.
130
And still at will or whim,
The lovely Lady Gladys strove
To love and honor him.
It chanced one day the twain were bid
A bridal feast to share,
The groom, a lord of fourscore years,
The bride both young and fair.
But when the Lady Gladys came,
Her looks were filled with woe,
And, seated at the festal board,
She let the tears down flow.
A bridal feast to share,
The groom, a lord of fourscore years,
The bride both young and fair.
But when the Lady Gladys came,
Her looks were filled with woe,
And, seated at the festal board,
She let the tears down flow.
Shuddered the bride, the bridegroom frowned,
But still the lady wept,
Her husband chid her angrily,
As to his side she crept.
“Pardon!” she said—“I weep to see
The ruin in their path—”
With that Sir Powel grasped her arm
And thrust her back in wrath.
But still the lady wept,
Her husband chid her angrily,
As to his side she crept.
“Pardon!” she said—“I weep to see
The ruin in their path—”
With that Sir Powel grasped her arm
And thrust her back in wrath.
A year passed on: a child had died,
A babe of tender years;
The mother moaned, and all around
Dissolved in pitying tears;
But Lady Gladys loudly laughed,
And through the burial day
To her it seemed a festival,
So light her words and gay.
A babe of tender years;
The mother moaned, and all around
Dissolved in pitying tears;
But Lady Gladys loudly laughed,
And through the burial day
To her it seemed a festival,
So light her words and gay.
The guests in whispers spoke of her;
She said—“And why be sad?
I see it with the angels there,
And therefore I am glad.”
Her husband dragged her from the place,
And turning in his track,
In answer to her loving smile,
He pushed her rudely back.
She said—“And why be sad?
I see it with the angels there,
And therefore I am glad.”
131
And turning in his track,
In answer to her loving smile,
He pushed her rudely back.
Another year—a christening feast,
And honored guests were they;
It was a neighbor's first-born son,
And all were blithe and gay.
But slowly Lady Gladys made
Her way among her peers,
And o'er her sudden-pallid cheeks
Rolled floods of bitter tears.
And honored guests were they;
It was a neighbor's first-born son,
And all were blithe and gay.
But slowly Lady Gladys made
Her way among her peers,
And o'er her sudden-pallid cheeks
Rolled floods of bitter tears.
“What folly this?” Sir Powel cried;
“Alas! my lord,” quoth she—
“This sweet child in its winding-sheet
A year from this I see.”
“This passes patience!” cried her lord,
And in a wrathful mood,
He seized her with a sudden grasp,
And shook her where she stood.
“Alas! my lord,” quoth she—
“This sweet child in its winding-sheet
A year from this I see.”
“This passes patience!” cried her lord,
And in a wrathful mood,
He seized her with a sudden grasp,
And shook her where she stood.
The lady grew like marble pale,
Her tears the faster fell,
She gazed a moment in his face,
And then she sobbed—“Farewell!”
She turned and sought the river-side,
He followed to the shore;
But into naught the golden boat
The vanished lady bore.
Her tears the faster fell,
She gazed a moment in his face,
And then she sobbed—“Farewell!”
She turned and sought the river-side,
He followed to the shore;
But into naught the golden boat
The vanished lady bore.
And ere a twelvemonth passed away,
Sir Powel's wealth had fled,
A murrain slew his thousand kine,
His steeds in stall were dead.
His monarch seized his lands in fee,
And filled with grief and moan,
In foreign lands, a banished man,
Sir Powel died, alone.
Sir Powel's wealth had fled,
A murrain slew his thousand kine,
His steeds in stall were dead.
132
And filled with grief and moan,
In foreign lands, a banished man,
Sir Powel died, alone.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |