The Collected Works of William Morris :: :: University of Virginia Library

For first on each side, maids did sing,
Dressed in gold raiment; then there came
The minstrels in their coats of flame;
And then the many-coloured lords,
The knights' spears, and the swordsmen's swords,
Backed by the glittering wood of bills.

So now, presaging many ills
The King drew rein, yet none the less
He shrank not from his hardiness,
But thought: “Well, at the worst I die,
And yet perchance long life may lie
Before me—I will hold my peace;
The dumb man's borders still increase.”

But as he strengthened thus his heart
He saw the crowd before him part,
And down the long melodious lane,
Hand locked in hand, there passed the twain,
As fair as any earth has found,
Clad as kings' children are and crowned.
Behind them went the chiefest lords,
And two old knights with sheathèd swords

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The banners of the kingdom bore.

But now the King had pondered sore,
By when they reached him; though, indeed,
The time was short unto his need,
Betwixt his heart's first startled pang
And those old banner-bearers' clang
Anigh his saddle-bow: but he
Across their heads scowled heavily,
Not saying aught awhile: at last,
Ere any glance at them he cast,
He said: “Whence come ye? what are ye?
What play is this ye play to me?”

None answered; Cecily, faint and white,
The rather Michael's hand clutched tight,
And seemed to speak, but not one word
The nearest to her could have heard.
Then the King spoke again: “Sir Rafe,
Meseems this youngling came here safe
A week agone?”

“Yea, sir,” he said;
“Therefore the twain I straight did wed,
E'en as thy letters bound me to.”
“And thus thou diddest well to do,”
The King said. “Tell me on what day
Her maiden life she put away.”

“Sire, the eleventh day this is
Since that they gained their earthly bliss,”
Quoth old Sir Rafe. The King said nought,
But with his head bowed down in thought
Stood a long while; but at the last
Upward a smiling face he cast,
And cried aloud above the folk:
“Shout for the joining of the yoke
Betwixt these twain! And thou, fair lord,
Who dost so well my every word,
Nor makest doubt of anything,
Wear thou the collar of thy King;

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And a duke's banner, cut foursquare,
Henceforth shall men before thee bear
In tourney and in stricken field.

“But this mine heir shall bear my shield,
Carry my banner, wear my crown,
Ride equal with me through my town,
Sit on the same step of the throne;
In nothing will I reign alone:
Nor be ye with him miscontent,
For that with little ornament
Of gold and folk to you he came;
For he is of an ancient name
That needeth not the clink of gold—
The ancientest the world doth hold;
For in the fertile Asian land,
Where great Damascus now doth stand,
Ages agone his line was born
Ere yet men knew the gift of corn;
And there, anigh to Paradise,
His ancestors grew stout and wise;
And certes he from Asia bore
No little of their piercing lore.
Look then to have great happiness,
For every wrong shall he redress.”