 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
41
THE MINSTREL LOVER
We met when roses wreathed the grey ramparts of O'Connor,
She a maid of Royal blood, her proud father's minstrel I;
Her eyes looked love in mine, but my lips were sealed by honour,
So I sailed from Connaught kind for Espan's alien sky;
But her last faithful glance cheered my gloom and charmed my slumbers,
And I toiled on in trust that her hand I yet might claim,
Till the harp her spirit swayed thrilled all Europe with its numbers,
And the chief of Erin's poets for her dear sake I became.
She a maid of Royal blood, her proud father's minstrel I;
Her eyes looked love in mine, but my lips were sealed by honour,
So I sailed from Connaught kind for Espan's alien sky;
But her last faithful glance cheered my gloom and charmed my slumbers,
And I toiled on in trust that her hand I yet might claim,
Till the harp her spirit swayed thrilled all Europe with its numbers,
And the chief of Erin's poets for her dear sake I became.
Her haughty father sped, again I sought her castle,
For the joyous Beltane feast as a roaming bard arrayed,
And when each minstrel else had made music for the wassail,
Before my lady bright I stood forth once more and played.
I told my tale of love, and when its transport ended,
Cast off my wanderer's weeds and my name of fame confessed;
In her rapture she arose—from her silver seat descended,
And owned me her heart's lord before each glittering guest.
For the joyous Beltane feast as a roaming bard arrayed,
And when each minstrel else had made music for the wassail,
Before my lady bright I stood forth once more and played.
I told my tale of love, and when its transport ended,
Cast off my wanderer's weeds and my name of fame confessed;
In her rapture she arose—from her silver seat descended,
And owned me her heart's lord before each glittering guest.
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |