In Cornwall and Across the Sea With Poems Written in Devonshire. By Douglas B. W. Sladen |
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ALICE OF THE LEA.
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 | In Cornwall and Across the Sea |  |
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ALICE OF THE LEA.
(Founded upon a Legend Related by the Rev. R. S. Hawker.)
In the castle of the Grenvilles
Beside the Cornish sea,
There was to be a wassail
And dance and revelrie,
And who should be the fairest
But Alice of the Lea?
Beside the Cornish sea,
There was to be a wassail
And dance and revelrie,
And who should be the fairest
But Alice of the Lea?
With eyes as blue as heaven
When summer days are bright,
And like “the summer waters
When the sea is soft with light,”
But tresses like the raven,
On murk December night.
When summer days are bright,
And like “the summer waters
When the sea is soft with light,”
But tresses like the raven,
On murk December night.
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As graceful as the ash-tree
Down in her native west,
As stately as Tintagel,
With castle-cinctured crest,
In all the bounds of Cornwall,
Of all the maids the best.
Down in her native west,
As stately as Tintagel,
With castle-cinctured crest,
In all the bounds of Cornwall,
Of all the maids the best.
The daring knights of Devon
And squires of Cornish strand,
And lords from o'er the Severn Sea
Came courting for her hand.
But she loved the lordly Grenvilles
Alone of all the land.
And squires of Cornish strand,
And lords from o'er the Severn Sea
Came courting for her hand.
But she loved the lordly Grenvilles
Alone of all the land.
And who of all the Grenvilles
The maiden's heart should move?
Sir Bevil, the king's captain,
Who with the Roundheads strove,
Who battled like a hero
And died as heroes love.
The maiden's heart should move?
Sir Bevil, the king's captain,
Who with the Roundheads strove,
Who battled like a hero
And died as heroes love.
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But Bevil, the king's captain,
He thought not of the maid,
Who all her tender girlhood
And stately beauty laid
Before him, in rich sacrifice,
And little heed he paid.
He thought not of the maid,
Who all her tender girlhood
And stately beauty laid
Before him, in rich sacrifice,
And little heed he paid.
In the castle of the Grenvilles
Beside the Cornish Sea,
They gathered for a wassail
And dance and revelrie,
And who should be the fairest
But Alice of the Lea?
Beside the Cornish Sea,
They gathered for a wassail
And dance and revelrie,
And who should be the fairest
But Alice of the Lea?
But what availed it Alice
Though queen of all were she
If the proud heart of the Grenville
Should still unaltered be—
The peerless Lady Alice
Lady Alice of the Lea?
Though queen of all were she
If the proud heart of the Grenville
Should still unaltered be—
The peerless Lady Alice
Lady Alice of the Lea?
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“O mother and my maidens,
My velvet to me bring,
My gown of the black velvet—
Fit fabric for a king;
And from my jewel-casket
Give out the pixies' ring—
My velvet to me bring,
My gown of the black velvet—
Fit fabric for a king;
And from my jewel-casket
Give out the pixies' ring—
“The ring won from the pixies
By a wise wife of the Lea—
The mightiest in magic
Of all the West-countree?
To give the love of her true love
Whoever he might be.”
By a wise wife of the Lea—
The mightiest in magic
Of all the West-countree?
To give the love of her true love
Whoever he might be.”
But, because the ring was given
Against the pixies' will,
It never won a lover
Without a dower of ill,
And whenever lady wore it
There was thunder in the hill.
Against the pixies' will,
It never won a lover
Without a dower of ill,
And whenever lady wore it
There was thunder in the hill.
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“O Alice, daughter Alice,
Wear not that ring to-night,
For whoso wears that jewel
Defies the pixies' might,
And to-night the pixies are abroad
From dusk to dawn of light.
Wear not that ring to-night,
For whoso wears that jewel
Defies the pixies' might,
And to-night the pixies are abroad
From dusk to dawn of light.
“O Alice, daughter Alice,
I pray thee set it by;
When thou art in thy velvet,
No queen with thee may vie
For stately grace and lovely face
And glamour of the eye.
I pray thee set it by;
When thou art in thy velvet,
No queen with thee may vie
For stately grace and lovely face
And glamour of the eye.
“O Alice, daughter Alice,
The ladies of the Lea
Have jewels of their own enow
Without the pixies' fee;
I prayed thee then, I pray thee now,
To let that jewel be.
The ladies of the Lea
Have jewels of their own enow
Without the pixies' fee;
I prayed thee then, I pray thee now,
To let that jewel be.
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“O Alice, daughter Alice,
I would see thee fairly wed,
And comely children by thee
Before that I am dead,
By thine own royal beauty
Not by the pixies sped.”
I would see thee fairly wed,
And comely children by thee
Before that I am dead,
By thine own royal beauty
Not by the pixies sped.”
But the lovely lady Alice,
The lady of the Lea,
Answered her weeping mother,
Proudly and scornfully,
“I will wear the ring and win his love
Whatever knight it be.”
The lady of the Lea,
Answered her weeping mother,
Proudly and scornfully,
“I will wear the ring and win his love
Whatever knight it be.”
Then did she on her velvet
(Fit fabric for a king),
And on her slender finger
She drew the pixies' ring,
And then looked on her beauty
In the mirror glorying.
(Fit fabric for a king),
And on her slender finger
She drew the pixies' ring,
And then looked on her beauty
In the mirror glorying.
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“O Alice, daughter Alice,
There is thunder in the hill,
And I feel a brooding boding,
In mine inmost soul, of ill;
I pray thee, daughter mine, to pray,
If wear this ring thou will.
There is thunder in the hill,
And I feel a brooding boding,
In mine inmost soul, of ill;
I pray thee, daughter mine, to pray,
If wear this ring thou will.
“And I pray to Him in heaven
That thou mayest win the love
Of him, whose heart thou settest
Thy mother's prayers above,
And pray thou win not harm, like all
Who pixies' power would prove.”
That thou mayest win the love
Of him, whose heart thou settest
Thy mother's prayers above,
And pray thou win not harm, like all
Who pixies' power would prove.”
She gazed into the mirror
Upon her loveliness,
And on the flashing jewel
And her rich velvet dress,
And felt a glow of conscious pride
Through her whole being press.
Upon her loveliness,
And on the flashing jewel
And her rich velvet dress,
And felt a glow of conscious pride
Through her whole being press.
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And she gazed into the mirror
Upon her glorious eyes,
And she muttered, “Pray, or pray not,
Not Sir Bevil can despise
The glitter and the glamour
Which all my lovers prize.
Upon her glorious eyes,
And she muttered, “Pray, or pray not,
Not Sir Bevil can despise
The glitter and the glamour
Which all my lovers prize.
“I will not pray, my mother,
For surely he must yield
To mine own beauty had I
No pixies' ring to wield;
Nor care I for the pixies aught,
In hall or in the field.
For surely he must yield
To mine own beauty had I
No pixies' ring to wield;
Nor care I for the pixies aught,
In hall or in the field.
“I will not pray, my mother;
There's little done by pray'r
But may be done by woman's face
Or man's right arm, or care;
The pixies I defy to do
Whatever they may dare.
There's little done by pray'r
But may be done by woman's face
Or man's right arm, or care;
The pixies I defy to do
Whatever they may dare.
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Forthwith there shone a glare of light
Which dazzled all the place,
But when the glare had vanished
None saw the maiden's face,
Although they scoured the country side
For twelve long hours' space,
Which dazzled all the place,
But when the glare had vanished
None saw the maiden's face,
Although they scoured the country side
For twelve long hours' space,
And in the Grenvilles' castle
Beside the Cornish Sea
There was a gloom of sorrow,
For the fairest, where was she,
The queen of all who graced each ball,
The lady of the Lea?
Beside the Cornish Sea
There was a gloom of sorrow,
For the fairest, where was she,
The queen of all who graced each ball,
The lady of the Lea?
But when the news was brought them
They hasted, one and all,
Bedizened in the splendour
Done on them for the ball,
To scour the manor of the Lea
And search the ancient hall,—
They hasted, one and all,
Bedizened in the splendour
Done on them for the ball,
To scour the manor of the Lea
And search the ancient hall,—
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The daring knights of Devon
And squires of Cornish strand,
And lords from o'er the Severn Sea
Who sought the maiden's hand.
And Bevil whom the maiden loved
Alone of all the land.
And squires of Cornish strand,
And lords from o'er the Severn Sea
Who sought the maiden's hand.
And Bevil whom the maiden loved
Alone of all the land.
But never spied the maiden
Even a moment's space,
And they sorrowed, some for years,
O'er the beauty of her face,
And Bevil for her evil hap,
But no whit for her grace;
Even a moment's space,
And they sorrowed, some for years,
O'er the beauty of her face,
And Bevil for her evil hap,
But no whit for her grace;
Though he, alone, of all men
The maiden's heart might move,
But in a score of battles
Against the Roundheads strove,
And bore him like a hero,
And died as heroes love.
The maiden's heart might move,
But in a score of battles
Against the Roundheads strove,
And bore him like a hero,
And died as heroes love.
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Only the pixies' jewel
Beneath the earth was found,
Laid lightly near the surface
Of a mole's new-built mound—
The first of all the molehills
Cast up on Cornish ground.
Beneath the earth was found,
Laid lightly near the surface
Of a mole's new-built mound—
The first of all the molehills
Cast up on Cornish ground.
And the simple country people
Said that the little mole,
With her fur like rich black velvet
And her eye with hidden hole,
Was the lost and scornful maiden
Whom the angry pixies stole,
Said that the little mole,
With her fur like rich black velvet
And her eye with hidden hole,
Was the lost and scornful maiden
Whom the angry pixies stole,
With fur of rich black velvet,
Like the robe which she had worn,
And the eyes she was so proud of
That prayer she should scorn,
As a judgment for vain-glory,
Out of their sockets torn.
Like the robe which she had worn,
And the eyes she was so proud of
That prayer she should scorn,
As a judgment for vain-glory,
Out of their sockets torn.
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And they say that at the seasons
When pixies feast and jest,
She regains her shape and beauty
And is their honoured guest,
As honest folks have witnessed
In the borders of the West.
When pixies feast and jest,
She regains her shape and beauty
And is their honoured guest,
As honest folks have witnessed
In the borders of the West.
| In Cornwall and Across the Sea | |