A Child of the People And Other Poems. By James Chapman Woods |
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THE LADY'S LEAF. |
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 | A Child of the People |  |
45
THE LADY'S LEAF.
We rode to Camelot, I and he.
It was the time of Spring turned lover.
A wind, caught in the greenery,
Shredded with glancing shafts the cover,
Crept out and in, and stirred the rill
That ran beside us round the hill
Onward to Camelot, it and we.
It was the time of Spring turned lover.
A wind, caught in the greenery,
Shredded with glancing shafts the cover,
Crept out and in, and stirred the rill
That ran beside us round the hill
Onward to Camelot, it and we.
We rode to Camelot, he and I.
The bells rang ever on his bridle.
I said, “What sing the bells, and why,
Whose silver tongues are never idle?”
He said, “Of joy-bells whisper these,
When we beneath the balconies
Ride into Camelot, thou and I!”
The bells rang ever on his bridle.
I said, “What sing the bells, and why,
Whose silver tongues are never idle?”
He said, “Of joy-bells whisper these,
When we beneath the balconies
Ride into Camelot, thou and I!”
We rode to Camelot, I and he.
Far off we heard its joy-bells ringing.
Anon, the sun smote suddenly,
High up, a golden dragon clinging.
“To-day the dragon clings,”—he said;
“To-morrow,”—half his thought I read,
Riding to Camelot, I and he.
Far off we heard its joy-bells ringing.
Anon, the sun smote suddenly,
High up, a golden dragon clinging.
“To-day the dragon clings,”—he said;
“To-morrow,”—half his thought I read,
Riding to Camelot, I and he.
46
We rode to Camelot, he and I.
His eyes sought ever crowns to win them;
Yet when they sought mine with a sigh
There was a hint of sorrow in them.
He spake not often; when he spake,
With fear my woman's heart would ache,
Riding to Camelot, he and I.
His eyes sought ever crowns to win them;
Yet when they sought mine with a sigh
There was a hint of sorrow in them.
He spake not often; when he spake,
With fear my woman's heart would ache,
Riding to Camelot, he and I.
We rode to Camelot, I and he.
“None of us ride here, save we only.
All ride with Arthur over-sea,
So ever now the roads are lonely.
Where are no knights the heathen are;
Pray we pass safe 'neath sun and star,
To Camelot on, the rill and we!”
“None of us ride here, save we only.
All ride with Arthur over-sea,
So ever now the roads are lonely.
Where are no knights the heathen are;
Pray we pass safe 'neath sun and star,
To Camelot on, the rill and we!”
We rode to Camelot, he and I.
Three ravens crossed us for an omen;
A trampled lawn we rested nigh
At noon, gave signal of near foemen.
He leapt like bloodhound on the slot:—
“Who rides so close to Camelot?”
We were alone, just he and I.
Three ravens crossed us for an omen;
A trampled lawn we rested nigh
At noon, gave signal of near foemen.
He leapt like bloodhound on the slot:—
“Who rides so close to Camelot?”
We were alone, just he and I.
We rode to Camelot, I and he,
Adown the heathen tracks disdainful.
Their horses half a score may be;—
He had ridden faster 'gainst a plainfull.
The stream ran muddy just below;—
“They watered here an hour ago,
Riding to Camelot, they and we.”
Adown the heathen tracks disdainful.
Their horses half a score may be;—
He had ridden faster 'gainst a plainfull.
47
“They watered here an hour ago,
Riding to Camelot, they and we.”
We rode to Camelot, he and I.
“Lo you, their lance-heads gleaming golden,
That dripping life-blood by and by
May be of the low sun beholden!
God knows, Sir Launcelot would allow
Our day's diversion rare enow,
Riding to Camelot, thou and I!”
“Lo you, their lance-heads gleaming golden,
That dripping life-blood by and by
May be of the low sun beholden!
God knows, Sir Launcelot would allow
Our day's diversion rare enow,
Riding to Camelot, thou and I!”
We rode to Camelot, I and he.
Full speed he sped,—a heathen crossed him;
Would Launcelot had been there to see
How my knight twice a lance-length tossed him!
Three in that tilt he overbore:—
Could Launcelot's self with twelve do more,
Riding to Camelot, I and he?
Full speed he sped,—a heathen crossed him;
Would Launcelot had been there to see
How my knight twice a lance-length tossed him!
Three in that tilt he overbore:—
Could Launcelot's self with twelve do more,
Riding to Camelot, I and he?
In sight of Camelot, he and I!
They drove him back: I called on Heaven!
The life-blood in my heart 'gan dry;—
Two more down! Still their swords are seven!—
Ah joy! Who drives across the field,
Three ramping lions in his shield?—
Now on to Camelot, you and I!
They drove him back: I called on Heaven!
The life-blood in my heart 'gan dry;—
Two more down! Still their swords are seven!—
Ah joy! Who drives across the field,
Three ramping lions in his shield?—
Now on to Camelot, you and I!
48
We rode to Camelot, all we three.—
“Had you not hard, Sir Launcelot, ridden,
The rill had run alone for me,—
Of me all bells had rung unbidden,
And dust had dimmed the dragon's pride,
And my maid saddened. Now we ride
Gaily to Camelot, thou and we!”
“Had you not hard, Sir Launcelot, ridden,
The rill had run alone for me,—
Of me all bells had rung unbidden,
And dust had dimmed the dragon's pride,
And my maid saddened. Now we ride
Gaily to Camelot, thou and we!”
“No art could tell how Launcelot's blade ran blood,”
I said, “as silence did!
You, Sibyl? Nay, I tell you, 'tis the mood
Of a mad Bassarid,
Driven swifter than the sting on a snake's hiss
To the heart of prophecy.
Lame follows yours my song of a queen's kiss,
Which your third leaf shall buy.”
I said, “as silence did!
You, Sibyl? Nay, I tell you, 'tis the mood
Of a mad Bassarid,
Driven swifter than the sting on a snake's hiss
To the heart of prophecy.
Lame follows yours my song of a queen's kiss,
Which your third leaf shall buy.”
| A Child of the People | |