1. |
1. |
2. |
THE EPIC |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
2. |
1. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
5. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
19. |
20. |
21. |
22. |
23. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
5. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
19. |
20. |
21. |
22. |
23. |
24. |
25. |
26. |
27. |
28. |
29. |
30. |
31. |
32. |
33. |
34. |
35. |
36. |
37. |
38. |
39. |
40. |
41. |
42. |
43. |
44. |
45. |
46. |
47. |
48. |
49. |
50. |
51. |
52. |
53. |
54. |
55. |
56. |
57. |
58. |
59. |
60. |
61. |
62. |
63. |
64. |
65. |
66. |
67. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
The poems of Madison Cawein | ||
183
THE EPIC
“To arms!” the battle bugles blew.
The daughter of their Chief was she,—
Lord of a thousand spears and true;—
He but a squire of low degree.
The daughter of their Chief was she,—
Lord of a thousand spears and true;—
He but a squire of low degree.
The horns of war blew up to horse:
He kissed her mouth; her face was white:
“God grant they bear thee back no corse!”
“God give I win my spurs to-night!”
He kissed her mouth; her face was white:
“God grant they bear thee back no corse!”
“God give I win my spurs to-night!”
The watch-towers' blazing beacons scarred
With blood-red wounds the face of night:
She heard men gallop battleward;
She saw their armor gleam with light.
With blood-red wounds the face of night:
She heard men gallop battleward;
She saw their armor gleam with light.
“My God, deliver me and mine!
My child! my love!”—all night she prayed:
She watched the battle beacons shine;
She watched the battle beacons fade. . . .
My child! my love!”—all night she prayed:
She watched the battle beacons shine;
She watched the battle beacons fade. . . .
184
They brought him on a bier of spears.—
For him, the death-won spurs and name;
For her, the grief of lonely years,
And donjon walls to hide her shame.
For him, the death-won spurs and name;
For her, the grief of lonely years,
And donjon walls to hide her shame.
The poems of Madison Cawein | ||