The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| XVIII. |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
199
III.
“I AM TRISTRAM”
I am Tristram watching how the young souls tilt.—
I lean with thee, my dark-haired tourney-bride,
Against this pillar,—press thee to my side,
And sheathe my strong sword bloodied to the hilt.
The stains of blood are dry thereon. Unspilt
Shall be the red flood in this battle-tide:—
No more my plume goes, swaying in its pride,
Athwart the mêlée: hushed my battle-lilt.
I lean with thee, my dark-haired tourney-bride,
Against this pillar,—press thee to my side,
And sheathe my strong sword bloodied to the hilt.
The stains of blood are dry thereon. Unspilt
Shall be the red flood in this battle-tide:—
No more my plume goes, swaying in its pride,
Athwart the mêlée: hushed my battle-lilt.
Sweet, watch with me the combatants,—nor ask
Thy knightly Tristram to unsheathe his sword.
To unhorse these youths were all too easy task:
Their maidens' kisses are not my reward.
Lo! I am Tristram. Iseult, share with me
The swordless bloodless calm of victory.
Thy knightly Tristram to unsheathe his sword.
To unhorse these youths were all too easy task:
Their maidens' kisses are not my reward.
Lo! I am Tristram. Iseult, share with me
The swordless bloodless calm of victory.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |