University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
  
  

expand section 
expand section 
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
THE WOUNDED KNIGHT
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


186

THE WOUNDED KNIGHT

Let me rest! the fight is over; I am smitten unto death.
Leave me! I shall be unwounded by the worst the foeman saith:
Foeman's taunts no more can move him whom his friend dishonoureth.
O, 'tis thou hast struck my spirit, stabb'd me in the thickest fight
With thy doubt most false and cruel: thou and I had else such might,
That all odds had fallen before us, strong in brotherhood and right.
Thou didst hold thy shield before me; when my sword-point as of old
Cover'd thee, thou lookedst on me with a smile so scornful cold,
Saying—‘Henceforth I will guard me with an arm that is not sold.’

187

Thou spakest plainly, roundly chargedst me with a treason unconceived;
Badest me turn my sword against thee, only so to be believed;
Smotest me with a vile suspicion never more to be retrieved.
So I fell, fell fighting madly, without thee to shield my life;
All unused to fight dishonour'd, rushing blindly to the strife:
So fell, stabb'd to the heart,—O friendliest! stabb'd, and by no foeman's knife.
Leave me now! thy pity hurts me. Thou wilt think that thou wert wrong:
Thou wilt think?—O, henceforth rest thee in thy false assurance strong:
No such wound be thine as speeds me this dark flood of grief along!
Yet, true friend! thou didst not falsely, thou by treacherous words beguiled.
Closer! thy true tears fall on me! closer!—my words too were wild:
My death-smile would whisper to thee—how our love is reconciled.