 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
3
KALLIMAIS.
I.
Once—once upon a time in Nomansland,
Hard by the dim shore of the Mythic Sea,
Went forth in arms a young and valiant knight,
Sir Huon of the Rose, with whom there rode
Bold Ferribrand, his stout and trusty 'squire.
These through an oaken forest all day long
Seeking adventures fearless forced their way
Where limbs and leafy branches overhead,
And mighty trunks with mossy bark begirt
Standing on every hand made dismal shade;
But not a human creature met their eyes,
Nor things of life indeed, save once a deer
That scurried fast before the tramp of steeds,
And one scared lizard, warted, rough and grey,
Which for an instant threw a startled glance
From the dead trunk of an uprooted tree,
Then darted into covert. All day long
Thus rode the twain till darker grew the shadows,
When at the sunset hour they came upon
A treeless space, where in a garden fair,
With rose and lily planted, yews close-clipt,
Blue violets under foot, and many birds
Singing on sprays, a stately palace—
Whiter than snow the carven points whereon
The late light rested, tinged with blue the rest—
Lonely and fair it stood—a song in marble.
Straight to its gate of bronze Sir Huon rode,
And grasping there a silvern horn which hung
Suspended from above, a blast he blew
Which shook alarum over frieze and cornice,
Buttress and turret, moat and barbacan,
Piercing with shrilly tones the casements through,
Then faintly fading into distant echo.
Scarce ceased the notes ere rose the barred portcullis,
The drawbridge dropped and opened wide the gates,
And thence came forth a bent and grey old man
Who, bowing, helped them to dismount and then,
The tired steeds giving to the charge of grooms,
Ushered the wanderers to the mighty hall
With rushes fresh-bestrewn, and bringing seats,
With reverence low and courteous words inquired
How he could serve his visitors the best.
Hard by the dim shore of the Mythic Sea,
Went forth in arms a young and valiant knight,
Sir Huon of the Rose, with whom there rode
Bold Ferribrand, his stout and trusty 'squire.
These through an oaken forest all day long
Seeking adventures fearless forced their way
Where limbs and leafy branches overhead,
And mighty trunks with mossy bark begirt
Standing on every hand made dismal shade;
But not a human creature met their eyes,
Nor things of life indeed, save once a deer
That scurried fast before the tramp of steeds,
And one scared lizard, warted, rough and grey,
Which for an instant threw a startled glance
From the dead trunk of an uprooted tree,
Then darted into covert. All day long
Thus rode the twain till darker grew the shadows,
When at the sunset hour they came upon
A treeless space, where in a garden fair,
4
Blue violets under foot, and many birds
Singing on sprays, a stately palace—
Whiter than snow the carven points whereon
The late light rested, tinged with blue the rest—
Lonely and fair it stood—a song in marble.
Straight to its gate of bronze Sir Huon rode,
And grasping there a silvern horn which hung
Suspended from above, a blast he blew
Which shook alarum over frieze and cornice,
Buttress and turret, moat and barbacan,
Piercing with shrilly tones the casements through,
Then faintly fading into distant echo.
Scarce ceased the notes ere rose the barred portcullis,
The drawbridge dropped and opened wide the gates,
And thence came forth a bent and grey old man
Who, bowing, helped them to dismount and then,
The tired steeds giving to the charge of grooms,
Ushered the wanderers to the mighty hall
With rushes fresh-bestrewn, and bringing seats,
With reverence low and courteous words inquired
How he could serve his visitors the best.
Then said Sir Huon—“To your noble lord
Present my service and bespeak him thus—
‘The errant knight, Sir Huon of the Rose,
Craves entertainment for himself and 'squire.’”
Present my service and bespeak him thus—
‘The errant knight, Sir Huon of the Rose,
Craves entertainment for himself and 'squire.’”
Answered the porter next—“O, noble knight,
Whose deeds in arms outstripped his coming here,
This palace has no lord—a maiden rules.
The noble Lady Kallimais, sole child
Of good Sir Ebberon, now with the saints—
(Sir Ebberon, once marquis of this wood,
And all the border-land wherein it stands)
Is mistress uncontrolled of this domain.
But nevertheless your welcome is assured,
Where hospitality as free as air
Best fitting his degree each guest receives.”
Whose deeds in arms outstripped his coming here,
This palace has no lord—a maiden rules.
The noble Lady Kallimais, sole child
Of good Sir Ebberon, now with the saints—
(Sir Ebberon, once marquis of this wood,
And all the border-land wherein it stands)
5
But nevertheless your welcome is assured,
Where hospitality as free as air
Best fitting his degree each guest receives.”
Asked now Sir Huon—“Dwells she ever then
Alone and lonely, this fair damosel?”
Alone and lonely, this fair damosel?”
Spake then the porter in reply—“Not so;
Never alone, since she has men-at-arms
Prompt to obey (if need be, to defend)
And varlets stout, and maidens at her beck;
But lives she here with none of her degree,
Since to the Saracens from whence she came
Her step-dame went, the Princess Pharmakis.
Gloomy and terrible in mien was she,
And, so they whisper, wise in things forbidden,
Who loved not well the Lady Kallimais,
And at their parting flung back angry words
And threats of evil. I might more recount
But fear I prate too much. Be pleased to sit
While I acquaint my lady of your coming.”
Never alone, since she has men-at-arms
Prompt to obey (if need be, to defend)
And varlets stout, and maidens at her beck;
But lives she here with none of her degree,
Since to the Saracens from whence she came
Her step-dame went, the Princess Pharmakis.
Gloomy and terrible in mien was she,
And, so they whisper, wise in things forbidden,
Who loved not well the Lady Kallimais,
And at their parting flung back angry words
And threats of evil. I might more recount
But fear I prate too much. Be pleased to sit
While I acquaint my lady of your coming.”
Then came a page with store of amber wine,
In golden flask, and cups of amethyst,
And wheaten bread upon a silvern salver,
Of which the knight partook, the 'squire in turn.
In golden flask, and cups of amethyst,
And wheaten bread upon a silvern salver,
Of which the knight partook, the 'squire in turn.
Now presently came forth fair Kallimais,
As breaks the bright moon through a rift of clouds—
As shows the yellow moon from sombre clouds—
Lighting all things and beautifying all.
She came preceded by her seneschal,
Around her gathered her attendant maids,
Her white-haired old confessor close behind—
The Fray Baltasar, bent with years and vigils—
And with a gentle air and courteous speech
Welcomed the knight, and bade her servitors
Attend him to a chamber with his 'squire,
That he might change apparel at his will.
Now Kallimais was young and beautiful,
And had a charming manner and a grace
That well accorded with her youth and beauty;
And stout Sir Huon felt his heart athrill,
And a strange fear which was a joy in mask
Pass through his spirit as he left the hall.
And after then, his armor laid aside,
In velvet double-piled and sable clad,
And silken hose, and shoes of Barbary leather,
And linen fine, and golden baldric on,
He came fine-prankt to banquet in the hall,
And seated at the right hand of the lady
Was waited on with honor and respect,
Fell straight in love who still had laughed at love
In days before, and worn no lady's token,
And troubled was thereat, for he was poor
Though coming of a good and ancient strain,
While she not merely was of highest rank
But riches had to match her pedigree.
As breaks the bright moon through a rift of clouds—
As shows the yellow moon from sombre clouds—
Lighting all things and beautifying all.
She came preceded by her seneschal,
Around her gathered her attendant maids,
Her white-haired old confessor close behind—
6
And with a gentle air and courteous speech
Welcomed the knight, and bade her servitors
Attend him to a chamber with his 'squire,
That he might change apparel at his will.
Now Kallimais was young and beautiful,
And had a charming manner and a grace
That well accorded with her youth and beauty;
And stout Sir Huon felt his heart athrill,
And a strange fear which was a joy in mask
Pass through his spirit as he left the hall.
And after then, his armor laid aside,
In velvet double-piled and sable clad,
And silken hose, and shoes of Barbary leather,
And linen fine, and golden baldric on,
He came fine-prankt to banquet in the hall,
And seated at the right hand of the lady
Was waited on with honor and respect,
Fell straight in love who still had laughed at love
In days before, and worn no lady's token,
And troubled was thereat, for he was poor
Though coming of a good and ancient strain,
While she not merely was of highest rank
But riches had to match her pedigree.
And so that night Sir Huon in his sleep
Wandered through dream-land with sweet Kallimais—
Even in dreams with downcast eyes he gazed—
And wakened in the morn to think of her;
Yet had no thought of her when she was by,
For then both brain and heart were in a whirl;
And for the three days he remained as guest,
Grew more enraptured till at length he knew
He rather would be lord of that fair lady,
Than reign as king o'er all broad Nomansland.
Then went the knight away, bidding farewell
To Kallimais, and with his faithful 'squire
Journeyed to Palestine, where great renown
He won by fighting with the Paynim foe;
And all men held him, as a warrior
Valiant afield, and passing wise in council;
And went his name and fame to many lands;
But wheresoe'er he was his mind went back
To one fair palace standing in a garden,
And one fair damosel with golden hair.
Wandered through dream-land with sweet Kallimais—
Even in dreams with downcast eyes he gazed—
And wakened in the morn to think of her;
Yet had no thought of her when she was by,
For then both brain and heart were in a whirl;
And for the three days he remained as guest,
Grew more enraptured till at length he knew
He rather would be lord of that fair lady,
Than reign as king o'er all broad Nomansland.
7
To Kallimais, and with his faithful 'squire
Journeyed to Palestine, where great renown
He won by fighting with the Paynim foe;
And all men held him, as a warrior
Valiant afield, and passing wise in council;
And went his name and fame to many lands;
But wheresoe'er he was his mind went back
To one fair palace standing in a garden,
And one fair damosel with golden hair.
Two years had passed, when from the stirring wars
Seeking a rest from action, he came back,
And craved the hospitality again
Of Lady Kallimais, yet fairer grown,
Who welcomed him in honorable ways,
As did indeed the household of the lady
Which honored much the grave and silent knight,
Till something in her eyes emboldened him
To press his suit upon her, which he did.
Seeking a rest from action, he came back,
And craved the hospitality again
Of Lady Kallimais, yet fairer grown,
Who welcomed him in honorable ways,
As did indeed the household of the lady
Which honored much the grave and silent knight,
Till something in her eyes emboldened him
To press his suit upon her, which he did.
The lady heard him with a blush and sigh,
And said—“I feel it honor to be wooed
By one whose name is good on all men's tongues,
And frankly say that no man lives on earth
Whom I would rather take to be my lord.
But ere I yield my maiden state and freedom,
One boon I seek. Pledge me the sacred word
Of a good knight and true, that every week
Upon each Friday, save when it may chance
That holy Christmas falls upon that day,
You suffer me to pass alone the hours
From early dawn to nightfall, seeking not
To penetrate the chamber where I go,
Nor ask to know how I am occupied.
Promise me this upon your knightly faith,
And I your loving lady will become,
And you henceforth shall be my gracious lord,
The master of my life and all I have.”
And said—“I feel it honor to be wooed
By one whose name is good on all men's tongues,
And frankly say that no man lives on earth
Whom I would rather take to be my lord.
But ere I yield my maiden state and freedom,
One boon I seek. Pledge me the sacred word
Of a good knight and true, that every week
Upon each Friday, save when it may chance
That holy Christmas falls upon that day,
You suffer me to pass alone the hours
From early dawn to nightfall, seeking not
To penetrate the chamber where I go,
Nor ask to know how I am occupied.
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And I your loving lady will become,
And you henceforth shall be my gracious lord,
The master of my life and all I have.”
To her Sir Huon in a burst of joy—
“Freely I promise this which is a trifle,
As I would more than this—I would 'twere more!
Not as condition for the hand you grant,
But from affection, and the yielding love
Which may deny you nothing. So I pledge.”
“Freely I promise this which is a trifle,
As I would more than this—I would 'twere more!
Not as condition for the hand you grant,
But from affection, and the yielding love
Which may deny you nothing. So I pledge.”
And so in due time wedded were the twain—
The king, of whom the Lady Kallimais
Held land in fee, the match approving well;
And noble lords and ladies gentle born
Made festival through all the honeymoon,
And tenantry and vassals loud rejoiced;
And for a year the pair lived happily,
Naught to arrest the current of their bliss
And mutual fondness growing day by day.
The king, of whom the Lady Kallimais
Held land in fee, the match approving well;
And noble lords and ladies gentle born
Made festival through all the honeymoon,
And tenantry and vassals loud rejoiced;
And for a year the pair lived happily,
Naught to arrest the current of their bliss
And mutual fondness growing day by day.
II.
An old compagnon found Sir Huon soon—
Sir Ranulph of the Thistle—who at times
The palace visited, and since the twain
Had been in arms together in the past,
Was feasted and made welcome when he came.
Brave was Sir Ranulph, little fearing man,
Not fearing God at all—an envious wight,
And wicked, though his wickedness he hid
Beneath his roistering manner as a cloak.
Frank in his speech, but secret in his deed,
Open in manner, but with envy gnawed,
He felt chagrined Sir Huon should have won
Riches so great and eke a lovely dame
Who loved him dearly, and he strove to find
Some spot of weakness in the life of either
Which he might pierce and thus his malice sate.
And so he peered into the household ways,
And looked where no one saw his envious glance,
And heard where no one thought he used his ears,
Till, bit by bit, from casual words he learned
That from the cock-crow till the sunset hour
On every Friday, Lady Kallimais,
Locked in an inner chamber where no eye,
Save God's, could see her, passed the hours alone.
And marvelled not the household, for it deemed,
The day being one of fast, the lady there
In abstinence and prayer and meditation,
And wholesome mortification of the flesh,
As well became a sinful mortal, strove
To purge the spirit of its earthly dross.
Sir Ranulph smiled at this—some mystery,
He thought, was there beyond what met the senses
Which he would open. Hence he laid his plans.
Sir Ranulph of the Thistle—who at times
The palace visited, and since the twain
Had been in arms together in the past,
Was feasted and made welcome when he came.
Brave was Sir Ranulph, little fearing man,
Not fearing God at all—an envious wight,
And wicked, though his wickedness he hid
Beneath his roistering manner as a cloak.
Frank in his speech, but secret in his deed,
Open in manner, but with envy gnawed,
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Riches so great and eke a lovely dame
Who loved him dearly, and he strove to find
Some spot of weakness in the life of either
Which he might pierce and thus his malice sate.
And so he peered into the household ways,
And looked where no one saw his envious glance,
And heard where no one thought he used his ears,
Till, bit by bit, from casual words he learned
That from the cock-crow till the sunset hour
On every Friday, Lady Kallimais,
Locked in an inner chamber where no eye,
Save God's, could see her, passed the hours alone.
And marvelled not the household, for it deemed,
The day being one of fast, the lady there
In abstinence and prayer and meditation,
And wholesome mortification of the flesh,
As well became a sinful mortal, strove
To purge the spirit of its earthly dross.
Sir Ranulph smiled at this—some mystery,
He thought, was there beyond what met the senses
Which he would open. Hence he laid his plans.
And so it fell one Friday, ere the noon
Sir Ranulph came, and stayed till fish was served,
And learned the lady was at her devotions,
And could not be disturbed, for so her lord,
Having love and confidence, in truth believed.
Sir Ranulph came, and stayed till fish was served,
And learned the lady was at her devotions,
And could not be disturbed, for so her lord,
Having love and confidence, in truth believed.
Then, full of evil thought, Sir Ranulph said—
“A happy man are you, my dear old friend,
To have so good a wife, so pious too,
Of whom, and of whose ways you are assured.
Ah me! that there are men less blest than you!
Ah me! that there are dames less true than yours!
I knew a noble knight whose wife retired
Weekly as does the Lady Kallimais,
Your pure and virtuous consort. As for her,
A wicked wretch, and he, a man abused.
He knew not as he would not of her ways,
So confident was he; but chance revealed.
There was a smart young page—but that is naught:
The dame is dead—she was a wicked woman;
In truth I know not how the story came
Thus to my memory. Whence had you, pray,
This wine of Cyprus? 'Tis a toothsome drink,
And good for mind and body. Pledge me now
To the old days when both were bachelors,
And wish me some fair dame in whom I'll hold
That quiet trust you have, and should, in yours.”
Then he began to bring again to mind
Their old adventures, when they had the world
All free before them, and their swords were new,
And hearts were eager, and their thoughts were young;
And talking all, and listening none, soon wore
The hours, then took his leave and went away—
A wasp that ere it flew had left a sting.
“A happy man are you, my dear old friend,
To have so good a wife, so pious too,
Of whom, and of whose ways you are assured.
Ah me! that there are men less blest than you!
Ah me! that there are dames less true than yours!
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Weekly as does the Lady Kallimais,
Your pure and virtuous consort. As for her,
A wicked wretch, and he, a man abused.
He knew not as he would not of her ways,
So confident was he; but chance revealed.
There was a smart young page—but that is naught:
The dame is dead—she was a wicked woman;
In truth I know not how the story came
Thus to my memory. Whence had you, pray,
This wine of Cyprus? 'Tis a toothsome drink,
And good for mind and body. Pledge me now
To the old days when both were bachelors,
And wish me some fair dame in whom I'll hold
That quiet trust you have, and should, in yours.”
Then he began to bring again to mind
Their old adventures, when they had the world
All free before them, and their swords were new,
And hearts were eager, and their thoughts were young;
And talking all, and listening none, soon wore
The hours, then took his leave and went away—
A wasp that ere it flew had left a sting.
Strode through the hall Sir Huon all alone,
And out the portals to the garden fair,
And up and down the walks; but neither rose,
Of odorous petals tinged with delicate hues,
Nor stately lily with its snowy bell,
Nor modest violet from its timid lips
Offering its fragrance, had a charm for him.
He thought upon his dame, fair Kallimais—
So sweet, so pure, so true, fair Kallimais—
And yet so strange her ways, fair Kallimais.
Why, if devotion were alone her purpose,
Should she shut out the path to heaven above
She trod in to the loving lord she loved?
She was no wicked dame, fair Kallimais,
As she of whom his friend, Sir Ranulph, spake;
But good and sweet and filled with piety,
And fond of him beside—yea! loved him well.
And yet a wife who was a loving wife
Should have no secrets from her other self,
Not even in her intercourse with heaven;
A whole day in devotion; but one day,
And six which showed no thought of prayer or praise.
He might not spy—'twere mean indeed to spy;
He might not follow her—his promise barred
The way to that; he might not questions ply,
So he was pledged. Sir Huon's lot was hard.
And yet if by some mode outside his vow
He could discover aught, could find him why
Her fast was lone, and what she did within
That inner chamber from the world shut out,
Why then, his mind at ease, and then—and then.
So on another day, she being out,
He furtive sought that inner room, and found
But a mean altar with a crucifix,
A missal, and a vase of holy water,
A praying-stool of wood, and nothing more.
The stool was worn, and bore the marks of knees;
The missal worn, and bore the marks of use.
Never a man so shamed of his suspicions;
And yet when he beheld in the partition
A small round knot that outward fell on pressure,
And struck the floor of the adjoining room,
He let it stay there as it fell—of course.
And out the portals to the garden fair,
And up and down the walks; but neither rose,
Of odorous petals tinged with delicate hues,
Nor stately lily with its snowy bell,
Nor modest violet from its timid lips
Offering its fragrance, had a charm for him.
He thought upon his dame, fair Kallimais—
So sweet, so pure, so true, fair Kallimais—
And yet so strange her ways, fair Kallimais.
Why, if devotion were alone her purpose,
Should she shut out the path to heaven above
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She was no wicked dame, fair Kallimais,
As she of whom his friend, Sir Ranulph, spake;
But good and sweet and filled with piety,
And fond of him beside—yea! loved him well.
And yet a wife who was a loving wife
Should have no secrets from her other self,
Not even in her intercourse with heaven;
A whole day in devotion; but one day,
And six which showed no thought of prayer or praise.
He might not spy—'twere mean indeed to spy;
He might not follow her—his promise barred
The way to that; he might not questions ply,
So he was pledged. Sir Huon's lot was hard.
And yet if by some mode outside his vow
He could discover aught, could find him why
Her fast was lone, and what she did within
That inner chamber from the world shut out,
Why then, his mind at ease, and then—and then.
So on another day, she being out,
He furtive sought that inner room, and found
But a mean altar with a crucifix,
A missal, and a vase of holy water,
A praying-stool of wood, and nothing more.
The stool was worn, and bore the marks of knees;
The missal worn, and bore the marks of use.
Never a man so shamed of his suspicions;
And yet when he beheld in the partition
A small round knot that outward fell on pressure,
And struck the floor of the adjoining room,
He let it stay there as it fell—of course.
When Friday next came on, so ill at ease
Sir Huon, that he wandered round the house
Until he came to that same empty chamber
Next where his pious wife was knelt in prayer.
He crept there softly, like a thief he crept,
And would have shrunk away, had not his glance
Fell on the hole from which the knot had dropped.
Then curiosity o'ercame resolve,
And so he stood before the aperture,
And slowly placed his eye thereto, and saw.
Sir Huon, that he wandered round the house
Until he came to that same empty chamber
12
He crept there softly, like a thief he crept,
And would have shrunk away, had not his glance
Fell on the hole from which the knot had dropped.
Then curiosity o'ercame resolve,
And so he stood before the aperture,
And slowly placed his eye thereto, and saw.
And this he saw. At first a tiny mouse
That capered up and down the room—then, horror!
A tigress body, supple, long and strong—
Black stripes and white upon a yellow ground—
Fearfully beautiful, with frightful paws,
And cruel claws, and slender limbs and strong—
A tigress body, with no tigress head,
A tigress body, with a human head,
A tigress body, and the head his wife's—
The head was that of Lady Kallimais,
The golden hair down falling like a mane,
The blue eyes raining floods of earnest tears,
The rosy lips with mental woe contorted—
Enchantress, or enchanted, who might know?
Meanwhile the mouse kept capering up and down,
Frolic and joyous, leaping here and there;
And every time the eyes of Kallimais
Rested upon the tiny creature's form,
A shudder ran through body and through limbs,
A newer shadow on the forehead passed,
A sharper pang of anguish on the face,
While the salt tears fell ever faster, faster;
And the poor creature, whatsoe'er it was,
Monster, or form enchanted, or a vision,
Would rest its fore-paws on the altar there,
And bow its head before the crucifix,
And seem to pray; whereat the mouse would leap,
And jump and frolic as the thing were mad.
That capered up and down the room—then, horror!
A tigress body, supple, long and strong—
Black stripes and white upon a yellow ground—
Fearfully beautiful, with frightful paws,
And cruel claws, and slender limbs and strong—
A tigress body, with no tigress head,
A tigress body, with a human head,
A tigress body, and the head his wife's—
The head was that of Lady Kallimais,
The golden hair down falling like a mane,
The blue eyes raining floods of earnest tears,
The rosy lips with mental woe contorted—
Enchantress, or enchanted, who might know?
Meanwhile the mouse kept capering up and down,
Frolic and joyous, leaping here and there;
And every time the eyes of Kallimais
Rested upon the tiny creature's form,
A shudder ran through body and through limbs,
A newer shadow on the forehead passed,
A sharper pang of anguish on the face,
While the salt tears fell ever faster, faster;
And the poor creature, whatsoe'er it was,
Monster, or form enchanted, or a vision,
Would rest its fore-paws on the altar there,
And bow its head before the crucifix,
And seem to pray; whereat the mouse would leap,
And jump and frolic as the thing were mad.
13
Sir Huon had a noble soul and kind,
And knew some doom had fallen on his wife,
A fearful doom and weird and terrible.
Such agony had come not of her will;
'Twas dealt by one who had the mastery,
Or by her fault, or by his greater power;
But he would not believe 'twas through her fault
And so he left, and sought the open air,
And marvelled. When they met that night no word
Dropt from his lips to tell what he had seen;
But when she fell asleep upon his breast
He lay awake all night, and pondered much
How and through whom he might deliver her,
His dear wife Kallimais, from sore distress,
And free her from her bonds, nor break his vow;
For such his love that he believed her wronged,
And such his love he knew her innocent;
But innocent or guilty, nevertheless,
Or wronged or wronger, he would save her yet—
For, innocent or guilty, she was his,
Or wronged, or wronger, he was still her lord:—
For weal or woe he wedded that fair dame;
In weal or woe his love was still the same.
And knew some doom had fallen on his wife,
A fearful doom and weird and terrible.
Such agony had come not of her will;
'Twas dealt by one who had the mastery,
Or by her fault, or by his greater power;
But he would not believe 'twas through her fault
And so he left, and sought the open air,
And marvelled. When they met that night no word
Dropt from his lips to tell what he had seen;
But when she fell asleep upon his breast
He lay awake all night, and pondered much
How and through whom he might deliver her,
His dear wife Kallimais, from sore distress,
And free her from her bonds, nor break his vow;
For such his love that he believed her wronged,
And such his love he knew her innocent;
But innocent or guilty, nevertheless,
Or wronged or wronger, he would save her yet—
For, innocent or guilty, she was his,
Or wronged, or wronger, he was still her lord:—
For weal or woe he wedded that fair dame;
In weal or woe his love was still the same.
III.
Deep in the forest, in a mossy hut,
By boughs o'ershaded, where a bubbling spring
Rose eager from between the ferns and mosses,
And filled its basin with a crystal flood
Wherein the watercresses loved to grow,
There dwelt the anchorite Heremiton.
A saint was he who had a scholar been—
And hence a sinner, for who knows all things
Will do all things, and most of deeds are sin—
Master of every tongue, and every science
Permitted and forbidden, but of those
Forbidden he forebore. The mate of lords,
The favorite of kings, he left them all,
Flung riches, pomp and honors far away,
And came to end his days in solitude
Where man but rarely was, God evermore.
And there he lived a lonely, quiet life,
Save when some hind, sore smitten by disease,
Called forth his skill in leechcraft to his aid—
His food fresh herbs; his drink the limpid flow;
Rushes his bed; his thoughts upon the grave.
Sir Huon sought him out, and told him all.
By boughs o'ershaded, where a bubbling spring
Rose eager from between the ferns and mosses,
And filled its basin with a crystal flood
Wherein the watercresses loved to grow,
There dwelt the anchorite Heremiton.
A saint was he who had a scholar been—
And hence a sinner, for who knows all things
Will do all things, and most of deeds are sin—
Master of every tongue, and every science
14
Forbidden he forebore. The mate of lords,
The favorite of kings, he left them all,
Flung riches, pomp and honors far away,
And came to end his days in solitude
Where man but rarely was, God evermore.
And there he lived a lonely, quiet life,
Save when some hind, sore smitten by disease,
Called forth his skill in leechcraft to his aid—
His food fresh herbs; his drink the limpid flow;
Rushes his bed; his thoughts upon the grave.
Sir Huon sought him out, and told him all.
The anchorite a moment mused, then said—
“A capering mouse, the other seems to fear it?
Saw you no human being in the place?”
“Why, no,” replied the knight; “naught save these two—
And one is human surely though deformed,
The tigress body with my lady's head,
But saving this no trace of man or woman.
The mouse, the altar, and the crucifix,
The vase of holy water and the stool—
The room held nothing more—of that be sure.”
“A capering mouse, the other seems to fear it?
Saw you no human being in the place?”
“Why, no,” replied the knight; “naught save these two—
And one is human surely though deformed,
The tigress body with my lady's head,
But saving this no trace of man or woman.
The mouse, the altar, and the crucifix,
The vase of holy water and the stool—
The room held nothing more—of that be sure.”
“And so this form—your wife, or whatsoe'er
The creature be, if not illusion, knelt
Before the altar and the crucifix,
And not it seems in mockery. That proves
The shape and change is not the fault or will
Of Lady Kallimais. She has a foe
So potent as to scoff at holy symbols,
So strong it bids defiance to the church.
Book, bell and candle will not chase the fiend,
For here no fiend, but something even worse,
A raging woman. Has there ever been
A rival for your love who seeks revenge
On her who won your love? You shake your head.
Had then the gentle Lady Kallimais
No bitter foe who strikes for fancied wrongs?
No rival beauty whom in maiden frolic,
By some light word she wounded in her pride?”
The creature be, if not illusion, knelt
Before the altar and the crucifix,
And not it seems in mockery. That proves
The shape and change is not the fault or will
Of Lady Kallimais. She has a foe
So potent as to scoff at holy symbols,
So strong it bids defiance to the church.
Book, bell and candle will not chase the fiend,
For here no fiend, but something even worse,
15
A rival for your love who seeks revenge
On her who won your love? You shake your head.
Had then the gentle Lady Kallimais
No bitter foe who strikes for fancied wrongs?
No rival beauty whom in maiden frolic,
By some light word she wounded in her pride?”
The knight replied—“My lady has no foes,
That I have ever heard of—could not have;
For she is gentle as the morning dew,
And kindly is to every living thing,
And ever was. The only one who hated—
And she because my lady being heir
Barred her from all our lands—is leagues away,
The Princess Pharmakis. She is not here,
But far from hence in Paynim lands, where dwells
Her father, of a province there pashaw.”
That I have ever heard of—could not have;
For she is gentle as the morning dew,
And kindly is to every living thing,
And ever was. The only one who hated—
And she because my lady being heir
Barred her from all our lands—is leagues away,
The Princess Pharmakis. She is not here,
But far from hence in Paynim lands, where dwells
Her father, of a province there pashaw.”
Then said the anchorite—“Be 't whom it may
Be sure she comes, and in the mouse's shape;
And ere the charm be broken she must die,
Or when the charm is loosened she must die.
My magic staff, my books of magic art,
Are buried deep, and I had never thought
To bring them to the light. Nathless, I will.
And now observe me well. On Thursday night,
When twelve has told its number from the bell,
And loosed uneasy spirits from the graves,
I will be waiting at the postern gate;
Admit me then, and to that oratory
Where prays and suffers Lady Kallimais,
Conduct and leave me. Then at cockcrow go,
When once thy lady shall have left her couch,
And seek thy spot of vantage. Look within,
Note what shall meet thy gaze, then go thy way;
Come thou again at nightfall, and again
Note what thou seest, and there remain until
I call thee, and be glad of heart meanwhile;
For if I read this tale of thine aright,
And potence has not left me through disuse,
The sufferer shall from wrong delivered be,
The wronger perish at the place of wrong.
The saints protect and guard thee—go!”
Be sure she comes, and in the mouse's shape;
And ere the charm be broken she must die,
Or when the charm is loosened she must die.
My magic staff, my books of magic art,
Are buried deep, and I had never thought
To bring them to the light. Nathless, I will.
And now observe me well. On Thursday night,
When twelve has told its number from the bell,
And loosed uneasy spirits from the graves,
I will be waiting at the postern gate;
Admit me then, and to that oratory
Where prays and suffers Lady Kallimais,
Conduct and leave me. Then at cockcrow go,
When once thy lady shall have left her couch,
And seek thy spot of vantage. Look within,
16
Come thou again at nightfall, and again
Note what thou seest, and there remain until
I call thee, and be glad of heart meanwhile;
For if I read this tale of thine aright,
And potence has not left me through disuse,
The sufferer shall from wrong delivered be,
The wronger perish at the place of wrong.
The saints protect and guard thee—go!”
And so on Thursday at the midnight hour,
When the clock struck Sir Huon left his couch—
His wife still wrapt in slumber—oped the door,
And took Heremiton with book and staff
Straight to that inner chamber where he left him,
Then to his couch returned, but not to sleep.
When the clock struck Sir Huon left his couch—
His wife still wrapt in slumber—oped the door,
And took Heremiton with book and staff
Straight to that inner chamber where he left him,
Then to his couch returned, but not to sleep.
Ere the cock crowed the Lady Kallimais
Arose and touched her lord, who slumber feigned,
Then kissed him fondly as he lay and said—
“The Holy Mother be his shield!” and then
Hastily robing to her sorrow glided,
Whereat the knight with tenderness was filled.
Then crowed the cock within the palace yard,
And rising from his couch Sir Huon now
Followed, and sought his former hiding place
From whence he looked upon the scene within.
Arose and touched her lord, who slumber feigned,
Then kissed him fondly as he lay and said—
“The Holy Mother be his shield!” and then
Hastily robing to her sorrow glided,
Whereat the knight with tenderness was filled.
Then crowed the cock within the palace yard,
And rising from his couch Sir Huon now
Followed, and sought his former hiding place
From whence he looked upon the scene within.
His wife was kneeling at the altar's foot,
Her sweet head bowed the crucifix before,
When suddenly a dame, in velvet clad,
Her back toward him, in the room appeared.
The stranger spake not, stirred not, but a thrill
Went through her form, and then it shrunk and shrunk,
Smaller and smaller, shape and substance changing
Until it changed into a mouse which ran
And capered gaily in the chamber's space,
Then came and fixed its bright eyes on the dame.
Her sweet head bowed the crucifix before,
When suddenly a dame, in velvet clad,
Her back toward him, in the room appeared.
The stranger spake not, stirred not, but a thrill
Went through her form, and then it shrunk and shrunk,
Smaller and smaller, shape and substance changing
17
And capered gaily in the chamber's space,
Then came and fixed its bright eyes on the dame.
Then rose the lady from the altar, rose
As one enforced, and in the centre stood,
And trembled there; and then a change began.
Her robe spread to a tigress' hide, her limbs
Were clad with fur, her fingers armed with claws;
And bit by bit, all but her face and neck
Became a ravening, savage brute, while tears
Fell from her eyes, and o'er her tortured features
There spread a veil of woe. And then the mouse
Ran here and there, and leapt and frolicked fast,
Whereon Sir Huon softly went away.
He dared not enter, for his oath forbade,
But all that day he neither ate nor drank,
And waited till the night was drawing nigh,
When he returned, and looked again, and saw.
As one enforced, and in the centre stood,
And trembled there; and then a change began.
Her robe spread to a tigress' hide, her limbs
Were clad with fur, her fingers armed with claws;
And bit by bit, all but her face and neck
Became a ravening, savage brute, while tears
Fell from her eyes, and o'er her tortured features
There spread a veil of woe. And then the mouse
Ran here and there, and leapt and frolicked fast,
Whereon Sir Huon softly went away.
He dared not enter, for his oath forbade,
But all that day he neither ate nor drank,
And waited till the night was drawing nigh,
When he returned, and looked again, and saw.
There was the Lady Kallimais yet pacing,
And there the mouse was capering as before.
And now the last rays of the setting sun
Streamed through the oriel level from the west,
Wrapping them both in radiance like a flame,
When sudden stopt the tigress, so the mouse,
And shook the tigress, an expectant gaze
Crossing the face. The body shook and shook,
And bit by bit, the furred hide passed away,
The silken robes succeeding, and the limbs
Grew human once again, and on the stool
Before the crucifix the lady knelt
And thanked the Blessed Lord. Stood still the mouse,
And shook and shook, but on the instant then
A grey cat from beneath the altar crept,
With ears bent back, and whiskers quivering,
And sprang upon the mouse, and struck its claws
Into the creature's skull, and slew it straight.
Astounded stood the Lady Kallimais,
Then in a moment more the cat was changed,
And, book and staff in hand, before her stood
The grave, grey anchorite Heremiton.
And there the mouse was capering as before.
And now the last rays of the setting sun
Streamed through the oriel level from the west,
Wrapping them both in radiance like a flame,
When sudden stopt the tigress, so the mouse,
And shook the tigress, an expectant gaze
Crossing the face. The body shook and shook,
And bit by bit, the furred hide passed away,
The silken robes succeeding, and the limbs
Grew human once again, and on the stool
Before the crucifix the lady knelt
And thanked the Blessed Lord. Stood still the mouse,
And shook and shook, but on the instant then
A grey cat from beneath the altar crept,
18
And sprang upon the mouse, and struck its claws
Into the creature's skull, and slew it straight.
Astounded stood the Lady Kallimais,
Then in a moment more the cat was changed,
And, book and staff in hand, before her stood
The grave, grey anchorite Heremiton.
The anchorite remained within; the knight
Came to the door and met his wife, who swooned
Into his arms; and then he kissed her lips,
Whereat once more she came to life, and o'er
Her cheeks and lips the blood took course again.
Called loudly by the anchorite, they entered;
And there upon the floor, a lifeless corse,
The velvet-covered Princess Pharmakis
Lay stretched before them. But Heremiton,
Shunning their thanks, bade them thank God alone,
And left the palace for his woodland cell.
Came to the door and met his wife, who swooned
Into his arms; and then he kissed her lips,
Whereat once more she came to life, and o'er
Her cheeks and lips the blood took course again.
Called loudly by the anchorite, they entered;
And there upon the floor, a lifeless corse,
The velvet-covered Princess Pharmakis
Lay stretched before them. But Heremiton,
Shunning their thanks, bade them thank God alone,
And left the palace for his woodland cell.
That night the lady told her lord, with tears,
How once a beggar to the palace came—
A loathsome leper asking care and food,
Whereat she shuddered and avoided him,
On which he cursed her for a wretch, and then,
Her anger being roused, she bade her serfs
To scourge him off, of which she sore repented.
Up to that time the spells of sorcery
Of Pharmakis had never power; from thence
They fell in force; and, for she had a heart
So like a tigress on that day, was punished
By being made a tigress in her form
When fell the day she drove the leper off.
How once a beggar to the palace came—
A loathsome leper asking care and food,
Whereat she shuddered and avoided him,
On which he cursed her for a wretch, and then,
Her anger being roused, she bade her serfs
To scourge him off, of which she sore repented.
Up to that time the spells of sorcery
Of Pharmakis had never power; from thence
They fell in force; and, for she had a heart
So like a tigress on that day, was punished
By being made a tigress in her form
When fell the day she drove the leper off.
19
IV.
When came Sir Ranulph on one Friday morn,
And saw Sir Huon and his stately dame
Together in the garden, well he knew
Was happily solved the mystery of that pair
But not for him; and so he held his peace,
And leaving them, and going to the wars,
Was slain in a melée. No more of him.
And saw Sir Huon and his stately dame
Together in the garden, well he knew
Was happily solved the mystery of that pair
But not for him; and so he held his peace,
And leaving them, and going to the wars,
Was slain in a melée. No more of him.
But nevermore the Lady Kallimais
Knew change of form; the fearful doom had passed;
And lived her lord and she in happiness
For many years, and died upon one day.
From them the house of Tourblanc came, whose crest,
A tigress demi, with a woman's head,
Rampant, surmounts its arms, a turret argent,
Proper, upon an azure field displayed.
Knew change of form; the fearful doom had passed;
And lived her lord and she in happiness
For many years, and died upon one day.
From them the house of Tourblanc came, whose crest,
A tigress demi, with a woman's head,
Rampant, surmounts its arms, a turret argent,
Proper, upon an azure field displayed.
So ends the tale of Lady Kallimais.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |