Lays of France (Founded on The Lays of Marie.) By Arthur O'Shaughnessy. Second Edition |
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THE LAY OF ELIDUC. |
 | Lays of France |  |
145
THE LAY OF ELIDUC.
146
Combien que j'aie demouré
Hors de ma douce contrée
Et maint grant travail enduré
En terre maleurée,
Pour ce n'ai-je pas oublié
Le dous mal qui si m'agrée,
Dont jà n'en quier avoir santé
S'en France ne m'est trouvée!
Guillaume de Ferrières.
Hors de ma douce contrée
Et maint grant travail enduré
En terre maleurée,
Pour ce n'ai-je pas oublié
Le dous mal qui si m'agrée,
Dont jà n'en quier avoir santé
S'en France ne m'est trouvée!
Guillaume de Ferrières.
I went to her who loveth me no more,
And prayed her bear with me, if so she might,
For I had found day after day too sore,
And tears that would not cease night after night;
And so I prayed her, weeping, that she bore
To let me be with her a little; yea,
To soothe myself a little with her sight
Who loved me once, ah many a night and day.
And prayed her bear with me, if so she might,
For I had found day after day too sore,
And tears that would not cease night after night;
And so I prayed her, weeping, that she bore
To let me be with her a little; yea,
To soothe myself a little with her sight
Who loved me once, ah many a night and day.
Then she who loveth me no more, maybe,
She pitied somewhat: and I took a chain
To bind myself to her and her to me;
Yea, so that I might call her mine again:
Lo, she forbade me not; but I and she
Fettered her fair limbs and her neck more fair,
Chained the fair wasted white of love's domain
And put gold fetters on her golden hair.
She pitied somewhat: and I took a chain
To bind myself to her and her to me;
Yea, so that I might call her mine again:
Lo, she forbade me not; but I and she
Fettered her fair limbs and her neck more fair,
Chained the fair wasted white of love's domain
And put gold fetters on her golden hair.
O the vain joy it is to see her lie
Beside me once again; beyond release,
Her hair, her hand, her body, till she die,
All mine for me to do with as I please!
—For after all I find no chain whereby
To chain her heart to love me as before;
Nor fetter for her lips, to make them cease
From saying still she loveth me no more.
Beside me once again; beyond release,
Her hair, her hand, her body, till she die,
All mine for me to do with as I please!
—For after all I find no chain whereby
To chain her heart to love me as before;
Nor fetter for her lips, to make them cease
From saying still she loveth me no more.
147
Hard is the banishment from thee,
Fair France! And, like a minstrelsy,
The very naming of thy lands
Rouseth the heart, and eke the hands
Of any son indeed of thine,
In any land of the sunshine
Where his feet tarry or are held;
For, but to think of thee, is spelled
With all his joy or all his woe,
As he shall come again, or no,
To die thy rose gardens among,
Thou land of roses and of song!
Fair France! And, like a minstrelsy,
The very naming of thy lands
Rouseth the heart, and eke the hands
Of any son indeed of thine,
In any land of the sunshine
Where his feet tarry or are held;
For, but to think of thee, is spelled
With all his joy or all his woe,
As he shall come again, or no,
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Thou land of roses and of song!
This Lay is of Sir Eliduc
And all his warfare, and the luck
He had of love; bitter and sweet:
Ladies, it is a thing full meet
For minstrelsy; whereof indeed
Fair singers have well taken heed
In times before; but, first of all,
In many a stead and castle-hall,
In Brittany it was a lay,
And such as all could sing or say.
And all his warfare, and the luck
He had of love; bitter and sweet:
Ladies, it is a thing full meet
For minstrelsy; whereof indeed
Fair singers have well taken heed
In times before; but, first of all,
In many a stead and castle-hall,
In Brittany it was a lay,
And such as all could sing or say.
He was in honour of his king;
And rich, and crowned with every thing,
That, through the hardest years of war
A knight may yearn and battle for,
To be his guerdon and his pride:
Yea, for at length, right far and wide,
He was the most beloved of knights
For valorous deeds, restoring rights
To all oppressed, both mean and fair;
And him all voices did declare
The very saviour of his land
And king from the strong growing hand
Of bitter enemies, whose might
Had brought to many an evil plight
The shrinking borders of the realm,
—Whom Eliduc did overwhelm
With such a swift and perfect stroke
In all their quarters, that he broke
Their utter strength, and put in fear
All other foes that might be near.
And rich, and crowned with every thing,
That, through the hardest years of war
A knight may yearn and battle for,
To be his guerdon and his pride:
Yea, for at length, right far and wide,
He was the most beloved of knights
For valorous deeds, restoring rights
To all oppressed, both mean and fair;
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The very saviour of his land
And king from the strong growing hand
Of bitter enemies, whose might
Had brought to many an evil plight
The shrinking borders of the realm,
—Whom Eliduc did overwhelm
With such a swift and perfect stroke
In all their quarters, that he broke
Their utter strength, and put in fear
All other foes that might be near.
And now, for many a great emprise;
And, because, also, he was wise
As any elder, and his word
In every council was most heard,
His name was grown the highest name
Of theirs who in the king's hall came;
And through the whole land he was known
Next to the king; and, for his own,
He had a palace like the king's,
Royal and served with sumptuous things.
And, because, also, he was wise
As any elder, and his word
In every council was most heard,
His name was grown the highest name
Of theirs who in the king's hall came;
And through the whole land he was known
Next to the king; and, for his own,
He had a palace like the king's,
Royal and served with sumptuous things.
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Yet, for the envying of some,
To see how great he was become
In places where they once had part
But now scarce stood with any art,
—For this sad cause, or else for none,
Since man more noble than this one
Was ne'er in any place at all—
Sir Eliduc came to his fall.
Even he saw how, leaguered round
With false tongues and the feigning sound
Of courtiers, who made constant wile
To work him ill with all their smile,
The king's face fell indeed from him,
And the king's smile at last was dim
And his trust fencèd round with doubt:
Then from the king's house he went out,
Saying a proud word to them all,
To wit, they should have need, and call
Some fair way on him, ere again
He should be there in that king's reign.
To see how great he was become
In places where they once had part
But now scarce stood with any art,
—For this sad cause, or else for none,
Since man more noble than this one
Was ne'er in any place at all—
Sir Eliduc came to his fall.
Even he saw how, leaguered round
With false tongues and the feigning sound
Of courtiers, who made constant wile
To work him ill with all their smile,
The king's face fell indeed from him,
And the king's smile at last was dim
And his trust fencèd round with doubt:
Then from the king's house he went out,
Saying a proud word to them all,
To wit, they should have need, and call
Some fair way on him, ere again
He should be there in that king's reign.
But, surely, in the court that day,
There was full many a one to say
That this should never have been so—
To let that goodliest of them go,
And with so little thank at last
For all his serving in time past;
Yea, for he held their hearts long while,
He had so fair and free a smile;
Half soft, yet sharp and grey like steel
His eyes were; and from head to heel
Shaped fair he was; and, or with sword
Or gentler wielding of fair word,
Could win his will in everything
Through field or court, with queen or king;
Yet was there no man certainly
Knew aught of him but loyalty.
But swift was he to ride that day
Back to his lands and castle grey,
Vast lands of meadows fair and green,
Over whose last swell there was seen
The blue sea,—castle grey, with moat,
And walls that many an axe had smote,
Upon a hill set, strong and high
With thronging towers against the sky.
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That this should never have been so—
To let that goodliest of them go,
And with so little thank at last
For all his serving in time past;
Yea, for he held their hearts long while,
He had so fair and free a smile;
Half soft, yet sharp and grey like steel
His eyes were; and from head to heel
Shaped fair he was; and, or with sword
Or gentler wielding of fair word,
Could win his will in everything
Through field or court, with queen or king;
Yet was there no man certainly
Knew aught of him but loyalty.
But swift was he to ride that day
Back to his lands and castle grey,
Vast lands of meadows fair and green,
Over whose last swell there was seen
The blue sea,—castle grey, with moat,
And walls that many an axe had smote,
Upon a hill set, strong and high
With thronging towers against the sky.
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There came his people all to seek
His face; but when they heard him speak
With changed voice, and beheld his brow
Where heavy thoughts like clouds were now,
—O they were silent; and, made sad,
Spoke not of tithe or harvest glad,
Nor of their fortunes bad or good;
But all with downcast look they stood,
Thinking of him their fair good lord,
Whose praise in each man's heart was stored.
Then he more saddened them with speech,
Yea, deeply in the heart of each;
For now he bade them, till some while,
Farewell, and spoke of hard exile;
For wrath was in him, and his pride
Let him not any more abide
In any realm of that his king
Unthankful; but he chose to bring
The glory he was wont to bear
And service of his sword somewhere
To nobler patron over seas,
Where valour of a knight could please
And any fair thing was to do;
Yea, so he bade them all adieu.
His face; but when they heard him speak
With changed voice, and beheld his brow
Where heavy thoughts like clouds were now,
—O they were silent; and, made sad,
Spoke not of tithe or harvest glad,
Nor of their fortunes bad or good;
But all with downcast look they stood,
Thinking of him their fair good lord,
Whose praise in each man's heart was stored.
Then he more saddened them with speech,
Yea, deeply in the heart of each;
For now he bade them, till some while,
Farewell, and spoke of hard exile;
For wrath was in him, and his pride
Let him not any more abide
In any realm of that his king
Unthankful; but he chose to bring
The glory he was wont to bear
And service of his sword somewhere
To nobler patron over seas,
Where valour of a knight could please
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Yea, so he bade them all adieu.
And on that very day, at noon,
To his dear wife he came full soon,
These bitter wrongs of his to tell,
And this last heavier thing as well.
He found her fair indeed that day,
Where she was sitting, robed and gay,
In lonesome coloured chamber high
Over the blue sea; there were nigh
Her jewelled lute with golden strings,
And many fair wrought golden things,
And bright quaint tapestries did lie
On floor and wall, of various dye,
Wrought out in painted histories
Of fair women in every guise;
And, while she sat in listless mood
Sweetening that fair solitude,
She read an open book of rhyme,
Or heeded most the gay noontime
Out on the sunny coloured bar
Shedding in showers many a star
Or like bright scales of glittering gold
Wondrous and lovely to behold.
All there was fit to serve her heart
With pastime; while the greater part
Her thoughts were tuned in sad accord,
Mourning for him their distant lord.
And now full red it made her cheek
To hold him there and hear him speak,
And have so soon of his return
All sweet for which her heart could yearn.
To his dear wife he came full soon,
These bitter wrongs of his to tell,
And this last heavier thing as well.
He found her fair indeed that day,
Where she was sitting, robed and gay,
In lonesome coloured chamber high
Over the blue sea; there were nigh
Her jewelled lute with golden strings,
And many fair wrought golden things,
And bright quaint tapestries did lie
On floor and wall, of various dye,
Wrought out in painted histories
Of fair women in every guise;
And, while she sat in listless mood
Sweetening that fair solitude,
She read an open book of rhyme,
Or heeded most the gay noontime
Out on the sunny coloured bar
Shedding in showers many a star
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Wondrous and lovely to behold.
All there was fit to serve her heart
With pastime; while the greater part
Her thoughts were tuned in sad accord,
Mourning for him their distant lord.
And now full red it made her cheek
To hold him there and hear him speak,
And have so soon of his return
All sweet for which her heart could yearn.
Ah, quick return that brought, alas,
A word whose grief was long to pass!
Ah, sweet—the hardest bought of all
Her heart's rare sweet! Soon hearing all
The evil tale of change and fate
—That now she should indeed but wait,
Might be long years, with no fair sight
Of him or coming of delight,
—Her hope all unassured and long,
Uncertain striving mid a throng
Of dismal fears and thought of foes
Innumerable, and distant woes
Already being wrought perhaps,
—Forefeeling through the doubtful lapse
The bitterness of many days,—
She fell a-swooned; and, in all ways
Of sorrow, passed from thought to thought,
Despairing of all good; nor sought
Too much to turn him from the will
To do that bitter thing; for still
She knew he loved her, and not vain
Could be his deed, while he had pain
As much as hers at heart for it.
A word whose grief was long to pass!
Ah, sweet—the hardest bought of all
Her heart's rare sweet! Soon hearing all
The evil tale of change and fate
—That now she should indeed but wait,
Might be long years, with no fair sight
Of him or coming of delight,
—Her hope all unassured and long,
Uncertain striving mid a throng
Of dismal fears and thought of foes
Innumerable, and distant woes
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—Forefeeling through the doubtful lapse
The bitterness of many days,—
She fell a-swooned; and, in all ways
Of sorrow, passed from thought to thought,
Despairing of all good; nor sought
Too much to turn him from the will
To do that bitter thing; for still
She knew he loved her, and not vain
Could be his deed, while he had pain
As much as hers at heart for it.
So all that eve they twain did sit
Together, losing not a space;
Each gazing on the other's face,
To fill each other's heart right well
With treasure of its love, a spell
Against long parting and all crime
Of falseness through the bitter time.
Full many a vow she had of him
That evening in the twilight dim,
That, in what lands or with what men
His fate were, all his joy, as then,
Should be in holding her most fair
And thought of soon returning there.
Together, losing not a space;
Each gazing on the other's face,
To fill each other's heart right well
With treasure of its love, a spell
Against long parting and all crime
Of falseness through the bitter time.
Full many a vow she had of him
That evening in the twilight dim,
That, in what lands or with what men
His fate were, all his joy, as then,
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And thought of soon returning there.
Natheless, upon the morrow morn
There was a blowing of the horn
All round about that castle grey;
Not later than the first of day
That came up from the hills behind
All cheerless; while the chill new wind
Fretted between the sea and shore,
And pale lights changing more and more
The dim land and the grey cold sea
Gleamed on fair warriors who should be
Embarked in that day's enterprise;
And all men were not slow to rise
And get them forth to see the start,
Grieving or envying at heart.
There was a blowing of the horn
All round about that castle grey;
Not later than the first of day
That came up from the hills behind
All cheerless; while the chill new wind
Fretted between the sea and shore,
And pale lights changing more and more
The dim land and the grey cold sea
Gleamed on fair warriors who should be
Embarked in that day's enterprise;
And all men were not slow to rise
And get them forth to see the start,
Grieving or envying at heart.
So Eliduc, with warriors ten,
His most beloved, well-chosen men
And tried, his friends in many a fight,
Stood by the ship in the pale light;
And ere the halo from the day
Was fallen, or the misty spray
Gleamed wholly silver in the sun,
Their hardy voyage was begun.
His most beloved, well-chosen men
And tried, his friends in many a fight,
Stood by the ship in the pale light;
And ere the halo from the day
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Gleamed wholly silver in the sun,
Their hardy voyage was begun.
Fair is the south of England's isle:
There the sun maketh a full smile
On broad sweet grass of mountain side,
Or through great woods where birds abide
Full cheerily till summer wanes;
And, in the quaint long pleasant lanes,
—Whose hedgerows gleam with bindweed bells
And fragile particoloured shells—
At warm noontide, quite dries the dews
From narrow footways lovers use
A-wandering hand in hand till eve;
And there indeed the folk believe
In holy Christ and Mary sweet,
Yea, and are fairly wont to meet
In gentle tournay; not unlearned
Of chivalry; but some have earned
In all of Christendom good name,
Whereof indeed the greatest fame
Had Arthur and that Launcelot
Of whom is song that ceaseth not.
But, all before and after these,
The folk hath had but little ease
From evils dire and manifold;
For in the forests dark and old
Was ever many a lurking harm
Of foe unseen; and a strong arm
Of weird enchantment too hath been
Stretched over that land fair and green.
There the sun maketh a full smile
On broad sweet grass of mountain side,
Or through great woods where birds abide
Full cheerily till summer wanes;
And, in the quaint long pleasant lanes,
—Whose hedgerows gleam with bindweed bells
And fragile particoloured shells—
At warm noontide, quite dries the dews
From narrow footways lovers use
A-wandering hand in hand till eve;
And there indeed the folk believe
In holy Christ and Mary sweet,
Yea, and are fairly wont to meet
In gentle tournay; not unlearned
Of chivalry; but some have earned
In all of Christendom good name,
158
Had Arthur and that Launcelot
Of whom is song that ceaseth not.
But, all before and after these,
The folk hath had but little ease
From evils dire and manifold;
For in the forests dark and old
Was ever many a lurking harm
Of foe unseen; and a strong arm
Of weird enchantment too hath been
Stretched over that land fair and green.
Now, longwhile, in a goodly town
Reigned hereabout, with all renown,
A king both wise and valorous,
And happy too in all his house;
For in his time, full many a year,
The land had peace from every fear,
And was quite easeful now become
With heaped-up wealth in every home.
Bright was the palace that he built,
With carven walls and work of gilt,
In every part wrought at command
By many a Southern craftsman's hand;
And treasure he had now well stored
In many a hidden guarded hoard;
Noble he was and served with love
Of all that folk he reigned above,
Honouring all things fair and free
And caring well for chivalry.
Reigned hereabout, with all renown,
A king both wise and valorous,
And happy too in all his house;
For in his time, full many a year,
The land had peace from every fear,
And was quite easeful now become
With heaped-up wealth in every home.
Bright was the palace that he built,
With carven walls and work of gilt,
In every part wrought at command
159
And treasure he had now well stored
In many a hidden guarded hoard;
Noble he was and served with love
Of all that folk he reigned above,
Honouring all things fair and free
And caring well for chivalry.
Yet after some long while that thus
All men were living prosperous
In happy peace at home, and fain
To think not else should be again
Their lot, yea to forget well-nigh
The old hard Past and dream to die
Even beneath that sunny fate
Of joy; and so were grown elate
With pride indeed of all;—I say,
After somewhile it was this way,
There happened many a sudden strange
And fearful omen of sad change
And terror coming surely soon.
All men were living prosperous
In happy peace at home, and fain
To think not else should be again
Their lot, yea to forget well-nigh
The old hard Past and dream to die
Even beneath that sunny fate
Of joy; and so were grown elate
With pride indeed of all;—I say,
After somewhile it was this way,
There happened many a sudden strange
And fearful omen of sad change
And terror coming surely soon.
But lo, the Princess Guilliadun
—Fair I shall show her as I may,
Of whom indeed is all this Lay—
Before the eyes of men she stood
Filling her year of maidenhood;
And now, for all her wealth, and e'en
For her fair beauty that was seen,
Her hand was sought of many a king,
Who came with goodly offering
To that rich court her father had,
And thought to be made rich and glad
With love of her and greater far
Than any other, helped in war
With mighty aid of him her sire.
And with the rest there did aspire
A certain king, no way the least;
Who, past the forests, to the east
Had realms and cities counted fair;
But rude he was, and took no care
Of much that well beseems a knight
In bearing him; nor to the sight
Seemed other than some rugged lord
And leader of outlandish horde.
160
Of whom indeed is all this Lay—
Before the eyes of men she stood
Filling her year of maidenhood;
And now, for all her wealth, and e'en
For her fair beauty that was seen,
Her hand was sought of many a king,
Who came with goodly offering
To that rich court her father had,
And thought to be made rich and glad
With love of her and greater far
Than any other, helped in war
With mighty aid of him her sire.
And with the rest there did aspire
A certain king, no way the least;
Who, past the forests, to the east
Had realms and cities counted fair;
But rude he was, and took no care
Of much that well beseems a knight
In bearing him; nor to the sight
Seemed other than some rugged lord
And leader of outlandish horde.
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When he with little grace was heard
Among the suitors, nor preferred
In any way by the king's hand
Above the lowest who for land
Paid tribute,—wroth, he left the court,
Leave-taking after no smooth sort,
But threatening vengeance quick and great;
And now he sought his wrath to sate.
And it befell that, in no fair
And knightly order of warfare,
But, in his way barbarian,
—Lurking in wait with many a man
And marking well the fitting while
When was no dream of foe nor guile,—
He came upon that town and wrought
No little panic while men sought,
Bewildered in the strange turmoil
Their arms; and, with much precious spoil,
He 'scaped them, ere their hands were strong
To do great battle with that throng
Of ravagers made greatly bold
For sake of many a prize of gold.
Among the suitors, nor preferred
In any way by the king's hand
Above the lowest who for land
Paid tribute,—wroth, he left the court,
Leave-taking after no smooth sort,
But threatening vengeance quick and great;
And now he sought his wrath to sate.
And it befell that, in no fair
And knightly order of warfare,
But, in his way barbarian,
—Lurking in wait with many a man
And marking well the fitting while
When was no dream of foe nor guile,—
He came upon that town and wrought
No little panic while men sought,
Bewildered in the strange turmoil
Their arms; and, with much precious spoil,
He 'scaped them, ere their hands were strong
To do great battle with that throng
Of ravagers made greatly bold
For sake of many a prize of gold.
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Alas, there was an evil sight
At morn in all that city bright,
And every head with grief was bowed;
For many a dwelling-house or proud
Fair treasury, or holy place
Was now made poor of store and grace;
And the great crowd of spoiling feet
Had trodden through the gardens sweet
And made a wreck for all that year;
And little was there held most dear
Of king or townsmen that was found
Unruined all the city round.
So but beginning was their woe;
For now was strengthened every foe
At hearing only what was done;
And with them fought full many a one
Of those contending kings at length,
Ending their strife for common strength
To make their single vengeance sure:
And long the warfare did endure
With various fate on either hand;
But so their foes grew in the land,
Pressing upon them more and more,
That, in a year, they scarcely bore
Against them any equal part;
And were become quite faint of heart,
Because they saw at length small chance
Or hope of new deliverance.
At morn in all that city bright,
And every head with grief was bowed;
For many a dwelling-house or proud
Fair treasury, or holy place
Was now made poor of store and grace;
And the great crowd of spoiling feet
Had trodden through the gardens sweet
And made a wreck for all that year;
And little was there held most dear
Of king or townsmen that was found
Unruined all the city round.
So but beginning was their woe;
For now was strengthened every foe
At hearing only what was done;
And with them fought full many a one
Of those contending kings at length,
Ending their strife for common strength
To make their single vengeance sure:
And long the warfare did endure
With various fate on either hand;
But so their foes grew in the land,
163
That, in a year, they scarcely bore
Against them any equal part;
And were become quite faint of heart,
Because they saw at length small chance
Or hope of new deliverance.
So, while the thing was in such state,
—Ordered of God's own will and fate,
There came to help those failing men
Sir Eliduc with his knights ten.
When he was come into that land,
And learnt what king there had command,
And, verily, what evil plight
They now were in, he deemed it right
To bear him to the palace straight;
And there, before the guarded gate,
Full hardily to stand and crave
To enter in with his knights brave.
And when the king of his intent
Knew perfectly, right glad he sent
A chamberlain to show them grace
And bring them all before his face.
—Ordered of God's own will and fate,
There came to help those failing men
Sir Eliduc with his knights ten.
When he was come into that land,
And learnt what king there had command,
And, verily, what evil plight
They now were in, he deemed it right
To bear him to the palace straight;
And there, before the guarded gate,
Full hardily to stand and crave
To enter in with his knights brave.
And when the king of his intent
Knew perfectly, right glad he sent
A chamberlain to show them grace
And bring them all before his face.
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Then, surely, he beheld how fair
And goodly knights those strangers were,
And most what person of high mien
Was Eliduc; and, having seen,
He joyed at heart such guests to know
And prayed them now no further go
In quest of knightly toils, but stay
And be right welcome many a day,
And help him if they would at need;
Therewith he bade his folk take heed
Those strangers should be nobly served
According as their rank deserved,
And in a mansion of the town
Be straight regaled with all his own.
Right royally with wine and meat
He made them fare, and all things sweet
Was fain unto them to have done:
But Eliduc spake everyone
His knights, and gave them this command;
That they should take nought of his hand,
But use their own in every way;
And this until the fortieth day.
And goodly knights those strangers were,
And most what person of high mien
Was Eliduc; and, having seen,
He joyed at heart such guests to know
And prayed them now no further go
In quest of knightly toils, but stay
And be right welcome many a day,
And help him if they would at need;
Therewith he bade his folk take heed
Those strangers should be nobly served
According as their rank deserved,
And in a mansion of the town
Be straight regaled with all his own.
Right royally with wine and meat
He made them fare, and all things sweet
Was fain unto them to have done:
But Eliduc spake everyone
His knights, and gave them this command;
That they should take nought of his hand,
But use their own in every way;
And this until the fortieth day.
165
And now, when through the leaguered place
The fame of these was spread apace,
And their fair vows of timely aid,
A new and warlike heart was made
In breast of every warrior there,
And strength again to go and dare
The legion of oppressors rude;
And, day by day, more grew the mood,
As through the street was fairly seen
The comely and undaunted mien
Of those fair foreign knights, all clad
In ready arms, yet wholly glad
And fain of laugh and merriment,
The while an idle time they spent,
As though there were no foes indeed
Or war at hand: scarce in more heed
Seemed he—the leader of the band—
Who with a free and careless hand
Kept feast-time there right bounteously.
No longer did men think to die,
But felt again all goodly pride;
And every day were fain to ride
Hotly against the lurking place
Of that ignoble banded race
Of praiseless fighters with the sling
And treacherous shaft, whom none could bring
To open battle in the field;
But now would Eliduc not yield
His word for battle or foray,
Until, upon a wished-for day,
Was told him how along the plain
The foe was seen to rise again,
Coming up in a phalanx dim
From the low dusky forest rim.
Then he caused blast of horn and shout
To clamour all the town about;
And the roused warriors, strong and bright
In ready mail, came to his sight
From every dwelling in the town;
With a great clangour they came down,
More knights than men knew in that realm
To wield bright lance or wear hard helm,
For so almighty was the sound
Of those who stood on high and wound
The brazen brilliant clarion there,
No youth or old man could forbear.
The fame of these was spread apace,
And their fair vows of timely aid,
A new and warlike heart was made
In breast of every warrior there,
And strength again to go and dare
The legion of oppressors rude;
And, day by day, more grew the mood,
As through the street was fairly seen
The comely and undaunted mien
Of those fair foreign knights, all clad
In ready arms, yet wholly glad
And fain of laugh and merriment,
The while an idle time they spent,
As though there were no foes indeed
Or war at hand: scarce in more heed
Seemed he—the leader of the band—
Who with a free and careless hand
Kept feast-time there right bounteously.
No longer did men think to die,
But felt again all goodly pride;
And every day were fain to ride
Hotly against the lurking place
166
Of praiseless fighters with the sling
And treacherous shaft, whom none could bring
To open battle in the field;
But now would Eliduc not yield
His word for battle or foray,
Until, upon a wished-for day,
Was told him how along the plain
The foe was seen to rise again,
Coming up in a phalanx dim
From the low dusky forest rim.
Then he caused blast of horn and shout
To clamour all the town about;
And the roused warriors, strong and bright
In ready mail, came to his sight
From every dwelling in the town;
With a great clangour they came down,
More knights than men knew in that realm
To wield bright lance or wear hard helm,
For so almighty was the sound
Of those who stood on high and wound
The brazen brilliant clarion there,
No youth or old man could forbear.
167
But when he turned and led them all
To battle past the city wall,
I ween already far away
The foe was struck with their array,
Where sunshine on the gleaming gold
And glittering silver fell and rolled
In a proud wave that far and near
Broke on some plumèd head or spear
Wrought of the hard and threatening steel:
So eager was each man to deal
His vengeance on those robber bands,
The spoilers of his wealth and lands,
That all with spur and eager rein
Set forward to the midmost plain;
And there they met them, and soon paired
With lance against round shield, and cared
Not much, in all their perfect mail,
For stone or javelin or fierce hail
Of fluttering arrows; but right close
They smote among them there with blows
Of mighty battle-axe and sword;
And, while the war grew up and roared
Around them, each one did rejoice
To hear the great undaunted voice
Of Eliduc, and knew no fear;
And not long could the spoilers bear
Such rage as theirs; but, while they fell
Slain more than any song can tell,
With backward steps along the plain
They strove a safer place to gain
Among the trees, where, so pursued,
The hoof-delaying underwood
Might aid and give them yet a hope.
But still, that some might be to cope
Against them in the place they sought
And bring them utterly to nought,
Sir Eliduc gave quick command,
And straightway chose him out a band
Of swordsmen lithe of limb and keen
To follow, without horse, between
The close and thronging trunks a space;
Till they should wholly turn their face,
And be past hope or power more.
O, on that day he smote them sore;
And left them dying far away
Out in the forest! And when gray
Of evening fell, he turned him round;
And with much spoil and prisoners bound
Led back that troop of his elate,
And came before the city's gate.
So with a golden victory
He saved the king and set him free.
To battle past the city wall,
I ween already far away
The foe was struck with their array,
Where sunshine on the gleaming gold
And glittering silver fell and rolled
In a proud wave that far and near
Broke on some plumèd head or spear
Wrought of the hard and threatening steel:
So eager was each man to deal
His vengeance on those robber bands,
The spoilers of his wealth and lands,
That all with spur and eager rein
Set forward to the midmost plain;
And there they met them, and soon paired
With lance against round shield, and cared
Not much, in all their perfect mail,
For stone or javelin or fierce hail
Of fluttering arrows; but right close
They smote among them there with blows
Of mighty battle-axe and sword;
And, while the war grew up and roared
168
To hear the great undaunted voice
Of Eliduc, and knew no fear;
And not long could the spoilers bear
Such rage as theirs; but, while they fell
Slain more than any song can tell,
With backward steps along the plain
They strove a safer place to gain
Among the trees, where, so pursued,
The hoof-delaying underwood
Might aid and give them yet a hope.
But still, that some might be to cope
Against them in the place they sought
And bring them utterly to nought,
Sir Eliduc gave quick command,
And straightway chose him out a band
Of swordsmen lithe of limb and keen
To follow, without horse, between
The close and thronging trunks a space;
Till they should wholly turn their face,
And be past hope or power more.
O, on that day he smote them sore;
And left them dying far away
169
Of evening fell, he turned him round;
And with much spoil and prisoners bound
Led back that troop of his elate,
And came before the city's gate.
So with a golden victory
He saved the king and set him free.
Now is it time indeed and right
To tell of Guilliadun the fair.
Sweet was her head with woven hair,
A tender colour to behold
Between the beauty of fair gold
And some soft palour of fair brown;
Lovely she was past all renown;
Her face was of no tint one knows,
Save only that of the Primrose,
With all its strange rare seeming too
That charmeth so in the spring new
After long waiting. Now, in truth,
All in a tender year of youth,
She moved in her scarce maidenhood—
Like any Lady to be wooed
In bower and served of lord or knight:
Upon her neck and her arms white
Was many an ornament vermeil
Or filigree of gold-work frail;
And in rich vestures of a queen
All amply broidered she was seen;
Yea, in a robe of silk most fine
Inwrought with many a gem to shine
On train, or in fair shapely sleeve
Of fabrics such as women weave.
To tell of Guilliadun the fair.
Sweet was her head with woven hair,
A tender colour to behold
Between the beauty of fair gold
And some soft palour of fair brown;
Lovely she was past all renown;
Her face was of no tint one knows,
Save only that of the Primrose,
With all its strange rare seeming too
That charmeth so in the spring new
After long waiting. Now, in truth,
All in a tender year of youth,
She moved in her scarce maidenhood—
170
In bower and served of lord or knight:
Upon her neck and her arms white
Was many an ornament vermeil
Or filigree of gold-work frail;
And in rich vestures of a queen
All amply broidered she was seen;
Yea, in a robe of silk most fine
Inwrought with many a gem to shine
On train, or in fair shapely sleeve
Of fabrics such as women weave.
So was she; and scarce knew her state,
And fair things done to her of fate;
The while, about her form and face,
Gracious beginnings of all grace
Wrought their most subtly fashioned spell;
And within her was seen to dwell
Some spirit of bright thoughts and new,
Swift glancing out of deep eyes blue.
Her beauty was as sweet a thing
As is the primrose in the spring.
And fair things done to her of fate;
The while, about her form and face,
Gracious beginnings of all grace
Wrought their most subtly fashioned spell;
And within her was seen to dwell
Some spirit of bright thoughts and new,
Swift glancing out of deep eyes blue.
Her beauty was as sweet a thing
As is the primrose in the spring.
171
She wondered whether she should die
And ne'er find out the mystery
Of Love; but daily more and more
She sought out all his gentle lore;
And, like a maiden pure and bright,
She wooed him, many a day and night,
With her chaste worship all apart,
And many an offering in her heart
Of happy blushing thoughts made mute,
And with the music of her lute.
And ne'er find out the mystery
Of Love; but daily more and more
She sought out all his gentle lore;
And, like a maiden pure and bright,
She wooed him, many a day and night,
With her chaste worship all apart,
And many an offering in her heart
Of happy blushing thoughts made mute,
And with the music of her lute.
She had a sweet bright-coloured bower
Hidden with many a leaf and flower;
Wrought all beneath the gay sunshine
With leaf and flower of eglantine,
And branches green upon the side.
There was her heart set open wide,
To heed the marvels of sweet sound
Of the trees singing all around,
Moving like many a shapen hand
Their leaves,—all shining as some band
Of goodly armoured men of war
What time the sun his light doth pour
On their clashed coats of glittering steel;
And she would hear each sound reveal
Some omen spoken to her heart,
And, in each sight familiar, start
At some new sense or strangeness caught
Making an answer to her thought.
Hidden with many a leaf and flower;
Wrought all beneath the gay sunshine
With leaf and flower of eglantine,
And branches green upon the side.
There was her heart set open wide,
To heed the marvels of sweet sound
Of the trees singing all around,
Moving like many a shapen hand
Their leaves,—all shining as some band
Of goodly armoured men of war
172
On their clashed coats of glittering steel;
And she would hear each sound reveal
Some omen spoken to her heart,
And, in each sight familiar, start
At some new sense or strangeness caught
Making an answer to her thought.
And there, between the leaves and leaves,
In yellow summer noons and eves,
When thousand sorceries of sweet
In strange enchantment seemed to meet,
She took fair sprays of flowers and wove
Her many a destiny of love;
And prayed love would bless this and this,
Seeking yet more some further bliss;
Or after all, forgetting these,
Would dream of fair loves over seas,
Thinking of Tristan and Ysolde
And many another story told,
And almost hear the rich lute strain
From many a royal tented plain
Or golden barge on waters blue:
So she would tempt indeed and woo
Love's self, and much her thought would err
Dreaming what he should do with her.
In yellow summer noons and eves,
When thousand sorceries of sweet
In strange enchantment seemed to meet,
She took fair sprays of flowers and wove
Her many a destiny of love;
And prayed love would bless this and this,
Seeking yet more some further bliss;
Or after all, forgetting these,
Would dream of fair loves over seas,
Thinking of Tristan and Ysolde
And many another story told,
And almost hear the rich lute strain
From many a royal tented plain
Or golden barge on waters blue:
173
Love's self, and much her thought would err
Dreaming what he should do with her.
God, in all things that He hath made,
Full many a jewel hath inlaid;
For first He hath set all on high
That fair enamel of the sky,
Brilliant of blue and eke of white;
Then He hath shed the pearl of light,
And made that jewel-work the seas:
Nor less a gem indeed than these
I count His miracle the Rose,
To love more precious than all those:
But now—a fairer jewel yet—
In every woman He hath set
Her heart, some sort of precious stone;
He shall know perfectly alone
—Who all the stars of heaven can call—
The worth and number of them all.
Most are they given away, or sold
For so much love or so much gold,
Yea, no man knoweth of their cost;
But well I ween that some are lost,
And some are of small worth I say,
And some are broken and cast away.
Full many a jewel hath inlaid;
For first He hath set all on high
That fair enamel of the sky,
Brilliant of blue and eke of white;
Then He hath shed the pearl of light,
And made that jewel-work the seas:
Nor less a gem indeed than these
I count His miracle the Rose,
To love more precious than all those:
But now—a fairer jewel yet—
In every woman He hath set
Her heart, some sort of precious stone;
He shall know perfectly alone
—Who all the stars of heaven can call—
The worth and number of them all.
Most are they given away, or sold
For so much love or so much gold,
Yea, no man knoweth of their cost;
174
And some are of small worth I say,
And some are broken and cast away.
It is the fairest thing you can,
Ladies, to give this to a man
—This precious jewel that God gave:
One such is all a man may crave.
Ladies, to give this to a man
—This precious jewel that God gave:
One such is all a man may crave.
Now when the Princess Guilliadun
Had heard what things were done; and soon,
How gracious was that foreign knight
And wonderful in all men's sight,—
She was but fain some way to seek
His presence, so to hear him speak,
And win some tale from him perchance
Of foreign wonder and of France:
So with all salutation meet
And many a goodly word and sweet,
On the first morrow of that day
She sent her Chamberlain to pray
Sir Eliduc, of courtesy
That to her presence he would hie
When so he might, and gain her meed
Of praise for all his noble deed.
Had heard what things were done; and soon,
How gracious was that foreign knight
And wonderful in all men's sight,—
She was but fain some way to seek
His presence, so to hear him speak,
And win some tale from him perchance
Of foreign wonder and of France:
So with all salutation meet
And many a goodly word and sweet,
On the first morrow of that day
She sent her Chamberlain to pray
Sir Eliduc, of courtesy
That to her presence he would hie
175
Of praise for all his noble deed.
And, soon as she at length beheld
That chivalrous man of court and field,
Fair, with fair locks unhelmed, and face
Changed from all sternness to all grace,
Yea, found what smiles in him were stored,
Knowing him such a perfect lord
In foreign courts of kings,—alas
She thought some dream were come to pass
Of Love's own sending: with his kiss
He touched her hand; nor less than this
Fair salutation did he make
With many a sweet word for her sake;
Then even to her side he came,
And told her many a thing of fame,
Sitting anigh her on a couch.
That chivalrous man of court and field,
Fair, with fair locks unhelmed, and face
Changed from all sternness to all grace,
Yea, found what smiles in him were stored,
Knowing him such a perfect lord
In foreign courts of kings,—alas
She thought some dream were come to pass
Of Love's own sending: with his kiss
He touched her hand; nor less than this
Fair salutation did he make
With many a sweet word for her sake;
Then even to her side he came,
And told her many a thing of fame,
Sitting anigh her on a couch.
But, while he heeded not her touch,
Nor what fair hanging of her sleeve
Or robe upon his own might cleave—
O she was feeling in her breast
A spell she knew not, breaking rest
And thoughts too sweet for shame or fear
Making a strange new trouble there,
Shaking her breath with many a start;
And very colours of her heart
Did ofttime rise upon her cheek,
Until she scarce knew what to speak;
And now the more on him she gazed
The more within that sight she praised,
And knew that she could love him quite;
Yea, sooth, if any were her knight,
Sir Eliduc—it might be he.
Nor what fair hanging of her sleeve
Or robe upon his own might cleave—
O she was feeling in her breast
176
And thoughts too sweet for shame or fear
Making a strange new trouble there,
Shaking her breath with many a start;
And very colours of her heart
Did ofttime rise upon her cheek,
Until she scarce knew what to speak;
And now the more on him she gazed
The more within that sight she praised,
And knew that she could love him quite;
Yea, sooth, if any were her knight,
Sir Eliduc—it might be he.
Thereat so weak at heart fell she,
Troubled a way she could not hide
With him there sitting at her side,
It surely had not failed at last
But on his breast she there had cast
Her head quite weeping.—O, what lack
Of wiles to hide the sore heart-rack
Beginning all love's secret woe,
Yea, of such wiles as women know,
—What lack I say was here!—to sigh
And let the thoughts come up so high
Out of the heart; yea, as it would,
To let the heart beat unwithstood
And do its pleasure with the cheek!
Love was so strong and she so weak.
Troubled a way she could not hide
With him there sitting at her side,
It surely had not failed at last
But on his breast she there had cast
Her head quite weeping.—O, what lack
Of wiles to hide the sore heart-rack
Beginning all love's secret woe,
Yea, of such wiles as women know,
—What lack I say was here!—to sigh
177
Out of the heart; yea, as it would,
To let the heart beat unwithstood
And do its pleasure with the cheek!
Love was so strong and she so weak.
But not like one unskilled I ween
Was Eliduc, when he had seen
The trouble of her breast and eye,
And her breath striving with its sigh;
Nay, surely, for he was well taught,
Oft having seen how love had wrought
With many a queen and lady fair;
So of his tokens had good care:
That day he left her with a bland
And sweet leave-taking of her hand.
Was Eliduc, when he had seen
The trouble of her breast and eye,
And her breath striving with its sigh;
Nay, surely, for he was well taught,
Oft having seen how love had wrought
With many a queen and lady fair;
So of his tokens had good care:
That day he left her with a bland
And sweet leave-taking of her hand.
Now all the toil of war was done;
And joy it was to everyone
To rest that morn in garden sweet,
Or wander through the idle street;
Or, as though foe had never been,
To seek fair wood and meadow green
And feel the sun's rich hour of glow;
That day, as in time long ago,
Came round the yellow smile of noon
Bringing the easeful shadows soon.
And joy it was to everyone
To rest that morn in garden sweet,
Or wander through the idle street;
Or, as though foe had never been,
To seek fair wood and meadow green
178
That day, as in time long ago,
Came round the yellow smile of noon
Bringing the easeful shadows soon.
And now this knight, whom all men blest
—In fair pavilion full of rest,
Made sweet with many a perfumed thing—
He lay, half glad, half sorrowing.
Amid the silken curtains there
Tarried the soft-lipped summer air,
With many a murmurous tiding brought
From woodlands far of sweet things wrought
Under the cool leaves all that day,
Or from the blue sea far away.
Yea, he was glad indeed awhile,
All through the sorrow of exile;
For now, no thought of war at hand,
Full of new pleasure seemed that land;
Like soft enchantments in a dream
Under fair floating blue did seem
The summer colours, where, in woods
Of quaint-cut golden leaves, sweet broods
Of pied birds and the painted jay
Flouted with clamours strange and gay;
Or where, in wilds of forest grass,
Through sun and shade was wont to pass
The shrinking spirit-slender herd
Of roes; and, far as his sight erred,
The straitened particoloured mead
Was like some fair mosaic indeed:
—In fair pavilion full of rest,
Made sweet with many a perfumed thing—
He lay, half glad, half sorrowing.
Amid the silken curtains there
Tarried the soft-lipped summer air,
With many a murmurous tiding brought
From woodlands far of sweet things wrought
Under the cool leaves all that day,
Or from the blue sea far away.
Yea, he was glad indeed awhile,
All through the sorrow of exile;
For now, no thought of war at hand,
Full of new pleasure seemed that land;
Like soft enchantments in a dream
Under fair floating blue did seem
The summer colours, where, in woods
Of quaint-cut golden leaves, sweet broods
179
Flouted with clamours strange and gay;
Or where, in wilds of forest grass,
Through sun and shade was wont to pass
The shrinking spirit-slender herd
Of roes; and, far as his sight erred,
The straitened particoloured mead
Was like some fair mosaic indeed:
And there, for many an hour of rest,
His heart of all things counted best
The thought of goodly Guilliadun;
And—through such soft times of the noon
When most is pleasant need to steep
The sense in dreamy wines or sleep—
Remembered all her beauty fair,
And fragrance of her presence, rare
And haunting as some flower's is;—
The blue of pale anemones
Her eyes were; and her bosom's white,
With every changing hue and sight
That love or shame could make of it;
And with what grace it did befit
Her hands,—their toying with the lace
On her rich vest's embroidered place.
His heart of all things counted best
The thought of goodly Guilliadun;
And—through such soft times of the noon
When most is pleasant need to steep
The sense in dreamy wines or sleep—
Remembered all her beauty fair,
And fragrance of her presence, rare
And haunting as some flower's is;—
The blue of pale anemones
Her eyes were; and her bosom's white,
With every changing hue and sight
That love or shame could make of it;
And with what grace it did befit
180
On her rich vest's embroidered place.
Then on warm mountain side was seen
Full many a broadcast shadow green,
And, from the homesteads deep among
The thronging trees, some strain was sung
Such as the shepherds make at eve;
And soon the unseen hands, that weave
The sweet spell of the summer night,
Were changing softly each fair sight
In all the pleasant world; and soon
The long pale fingers of the moon
Touching all weary things with sleep
Through flower-land and forest deep.
Full many a broadcast shadow green,
And, from the homesteads deep among
The thronging trees, some strain was sung
Such as the shepherds make at eve;
And soon the unseen hands, that weave
The sweet spell of the summer night,
Were changing softly each fair sight
In all the pleasant world; and soon
The long pale fingers of the moon
Touching all weary things with sleep
Through flower-land and forest deep.
How many a magic Love doth quite
Perform in one short summer night—
Wherein is scarcely space for dreams,
While, on each side the world, it seems
The days nigh join with amber hands,
Over the dimly gleaming lands,
Where under thin-veiled shifting sky
Gleams many a flower with white eye
Unclosed!—On moonlight paven path
How many a meeting place Love hath—
Where dreams, or yearning thoughts that thrill,
Parted in vain, may find their will,
And come together as they range,
And fall into sweet interchange
Like waves with waves, whereof some sign
Felt at the trembling ripple-line
Of either brimming heart doth bring
A rich unwonted comforting!
Perform in one short summer night—
Wherein is scarcely space for dreams,
While, on each side the world, it seems
The days nigh join with amber hands,
Over the dimly gleaming lands,
Where under thin-veiled shifting sky
181
Unclosed!—On moonlight paven path
How many a meeting place Love hath—
Where dreams, or yearning thoughts that thrill,
Parted in vain, may find their will,
And come together as they range,
And fall into sweet interchange
Like waves with waves, whereof some sign
Felt at the trembling ripple-line
Of either brimming heart doth bring
A rich unwonted comforting!
Not else I ween, nor without aid
Of love's sweet miracle, now strayed
The restless seeking thoughts that brake
The breast of Guilliadun, for sake
Of things some hand of fate had brought
So near, yet thereof left her nought
But loss and love, and like a sore
Filling the heart up more and more:
And her sighs, full of that fair ill,
Set free, drew near, I think, at will
E'en to the breast of him they sought,
And there a sweet contagion wrought:
Else, in some way no man can tell,
Love did renew with greater spell
All heart-enthralling memories
Of Guilliadun and her fair eyes;
And cherished still the slender strain
Of her last words; and wrought again,
From all the balmy pores of night,
The very perfume and delight
It was to be at her fair side;
For over him a charm did glide:
And through the fair hours came a dream
Of her beside him; she did seem
Still hearkening, with her hands at fret,
As in the same fair trouble yet;
The while almost upon his own
The tremor of her arm seemed known,
And in her breath a short half sigh
Hung fluttering; and his heart felt nigh
To some rich living flower—stood still
For fear of breaking some rich thrill.
Then, it seemed, all their words had been
Of nothing else than love; and e'en
Their trouble, that they could not say
How sweet it was, and in what way
It wrought with each of them at heart;—
For, now, it seemed, he, for his part,
Loved most because of the sweet hue
Her eyes held, purer than all blue;
And now for ways her neck was curved;
Or for some secret sweet reserved
In her curled smiles; but now, in truth,
'Twas only for her body's youth,
And the whole strangeness of the grace
Belonging to its every place.
So, a long time, athwart his trance,
Such thoughts love's power did all enhance.
Of love's sweet miracle, now strayed
The restless seeking thoughts that brake
The breast of Guilliadun, for sake
Of things some hand of fate had brought
So near, yet thereof left her nought
But loss and love, and like a sore
Filling the heart up more and more:
And her sighs, full of that fair ill,
Set free, drew near, I think, at will
E'en to the breast of him they sought,
182
Else, in some way no man can tell,
Love did renew with greater spell
All heart-enthralling memories
Of Guilliadun and her fair eyes;
And cherished still the slender strain
Of her last words; and wrought again,
From all the balmy pores of night,
The very perfume and delight
It was to be at her fair side;
For over him a charm did glide:
And through the fair hours came a dream
Of her beside him; she did seem
Still hearkening, with her hands at fret,
As in the same fair trouble yet;
The while almost upon his own
The tremor of her arm seemed known,
And in her breath a short half sigh
Hung fluttering; and his heart felt nigh
To some rich living flower—stood still
For fear of breaking some rich thrill.
Then, it seemed, all their words had been
Of nothing else than love; and e'en
183
How sweet it was, and in what way
It wrought with each of them at heart;—
For, now, it seemed, he, for his part,
Loved most because of the sweet hue
Her eyes held, purer than all blue;
And now for ways her neck was curved;
Or for some secret sweet reserved
In her curled smiles; but now, in truth,
'Twas only for her body's youth,
And the whole strangeness of the grace
Belonging to its every place.
So, a long time, athwart his trance,
Such thoughts love's power did all enhance.
Yet afterward came with a tear
The memory of his own wife dear,
And of her love through all time past,
And of her words and grief at last:
Yea, now he thought, and with it wept,
Of the church where his fathers slept
In the midst of the grey sea town,
In the land where they had renown,
And he was honoured with them all,
When, under shield armorial,
He stood, on holy day and seemed
Before his folk all things they dreamed
Noblest and highest to attain.
The memory of his own wife dear,
And of her love through all time past,
And of her words and grief at last:
Yea, now he thought, and with it wept,
Of the church where his fathers slept
In the midst of the grey sea town,
In the land where they had renown,
184
When, under shield armorial,
He stood, on holy day and seemed
Before his folk all things they dreamed
Noblest and highest to attain.
Alas, his heart had been nigh fain
To fall away from all that state;
And, for some fair uncertain fate
In alien land, to bear no more,
Laid up in many a precious store,
The thoughts of what had quite made fair
All fates of many a former year,
The long rich pasts of love and fame;
—So at length, till his very name
Should weary on the lips of men,
And in his home among his kin
Should come to be no more a boast,
And he to seem as one quite lost
Or one quite false. Thereof he thought
Full bitterly, till he was wrought
To utter grief; and in his breast
His erring heart at length confest
The treason love had there begun;
And how it had well nigh undone
His constancy; and did intend
Surely no honourable end,
But to bring on him shameful stain
In sight of all men who were fain
To call him noble,—yea, to cast
Him wholly from their praise at last,
As one scarce true with heart and hand
To king and love and fatherland.
To fall away from all that state;
And, for some fair uncertain fate
In alien land, to bear no more,
Laid up in many a precious store,
The thoughts of what had quite made fair
All fates of many a former year,
The long rich pasts of love and fame;
—So at length, till his very name
Should weary on the lips of men,
And in his home among his kin
Should come to be no more a boast,
And he to seem as one quite lost
Or one quite false. Thereof he thought
Full bitterly, till he was wrought
To utter grief; and in his breast
His erring heart at length confest
185
And how it had well nigh undone
His constancy; and did intend
Surely no honourable end,
But to bring on him shameful stain
In sight of all men who were fain
To call him noble,—yea, to cast
Him wholly from their praise at last,
As one scarce true with heart and hand
To king and love and fatherland.
But soon, for all such shame, he found
That love had made indeed a wound
Already inmost in his heart;
And that it was quite hard to part
At once from the so sweetened sting,
Whereto the aching thoughts would cling
Right fondly, spite of all his strength:
Then thought he with himself at length,
That neither had he needs take heed
—Like a mere youth unskilled indeed,
To fly a straight inglorious flight
Because of such first simple sight
Of love—that snarer of man's heart,
Nor yet should he forget with art
To be full armed, so in the end
To foil the harm love did intend.
For surely, with no spell or snare
Should he be taken unaware,
Who had well known all subtle ways
Wherein that enemy most lays
His ambush, yea, and of long time
Seen many an one fall in fair crime
Of love, trapped most unwittingly;
—Himself in Love's court held to be
A very courtier above all:
—Yea, little need he fear to fall
Through aught of love's familiar guile!
That love had made indeed a wound
Already inmost in his heart;
And that it was quite hard to part
At once from the so sweetened sting,
Whereto the aching thoughts would cling
Right fondly, spite of all his strength:
Then thought he with himself at length,
That neither had he needs take heed
—Like a mere youth unskilled indeed,
To fly a straight inglorious flight
Because of such first simple sight
186
Nor yet should he forget with art
To be full armed, so in the end
To foil the harm love did intend.
For surely, with no spell or snare
Should he be taken unaware,
Who had well known all subtle ways
Wherein that enemy most lays
His ambush, yea, and of long time
Seen many an one fall in fair crime
Of love, trapped most unwittingly;
—Himself in Love's court held to be
A very courtier above all:
—Yea, little need he fear to fall
Through aught of love's familiar guile!
Verily, too, love hath some wile
Laid deeply in the sweet sunshine
And woven in the tissue fine
Of the mere light and floating air;
And in the purest place his snare
Is surely set—in field or home
Or wheresoe'er a man may roam
About the world, in day or night,
In moods of sadness or delight,
In crowds or solitudes sought out
Or dreams;—so must He go quite out
Of all the pleasant world, and joy
No more in living, or destroy
The very heart,—whoso would flee
Where no more taint of love shall be.
Laid deeply in the sweet sunshine
And woven in the tissue fine
Of the mere light and floating air;
And in the purest place his snare
Is surely set—in field or home
Or wheresoe'er a man may roam
187
In moods of sadness or delight,
In crowds or solitudes sought out
Or dreams;—so must He go quite out
Of all the pleasant world, and joy
No more in living, or destroy
The very heart,—whoso would flee
Where no more taint of love shall be.
Moreover, in his exile sad,
I ween, some kind of sweet he had,
Dwelling in any thought or dream
Of love; and so alone did seem
Softened at all his utmost fate
In that far foreign land; for great
Indeed Love's power is to charm,
And he can stretch a magic arm
Over all sadness to prevail.
I ween, some kind of sweet he had,
Dwelling in any thought or dream
Of love; and so alone did seem
Softened at all his utmost fate
In that far foreign land; for great
Indeed Love's power is to charm,
And he can stretch a magic arm
Over all sadness to prevail.
Then, after all, it doth not fail
—Yea, Ladies, as ye know, I say,—
But there be many a sweet half way,
Wherein is pleasantness enough,
That one may quite come nigh to love,
And e'en accomplish some fair part
Of longing, and regale the heart
Ofttimes with many a tender bliss,
Or feast of passionate looks or kiss;
Yea, many a rapturous thing begin
Whereto shall cleave no word of sin.
—Yea, Ladies, as ye know, I say,—
But there be many a sweet half way,
Wherein is pleasantness enough,
188
And e'en accomplish some fair part
Of longing, and regale the heart
Ofttimes with many a tender bliss,
Or feast of passionate looks or kiss;
Yea, many a rapturous thing begin
Whereto shall cleave no word of sin.
Now Guilliadun was grown quite weak
Against her love; and ways did seek
To break the spells of silence set
Hard over all her thoughts; while yet
She sought how, without shame or sin,
She might most favourably win
To some new solace-giving sight
Of fair Sir Eliduc her knight.
She took the fairest ring she had,
And scarf embroidered from Bagdad,
—Of silk it was, rich to behold,
Crimson and wrought upon with gold;
These gifts,—that therewith she might send
Some message written with her hand
To pray him be her knight indeed,
And come and learn some present need
She had of succour: so she fained,
And tenderly her will explained
In words most delicate and meet
To win all things they did entreat.
Against her love; and ways did seek
To break the spells of silence set
Hard over all her thoughts; while yet
She sought how, without shame or sin,
She might most favourably win
To some new solace-giving sight
Of fair Sir Eliduc her knight.
She took the fairest ring she had,
And scarf embroidered from Bagdad,
—Of silk it was, rich to behold,
Crimson and wrought upon with gold;
These gifts,—that therewith she might send
Some message written with her hand
To pray him be her knight indeed,
189
She had of succour: so she fained,
And tenderly her will explained
In words most delicate and meet
To win all things they did entreat.
Then one day,—while, each day's long round,
Full of a fond expectancy,
Yet heavy at her heart, and nigh
Foreboding sore was Guilliadun,—
Failing not still to importune
Each barren hour that brought not peace—
He came; and made at once to cease
The bitter pulse of fear and doubt
That racked her heart; for there, about
His waist, was girded that sweet thing
The scarf her gift, and the fair ring
She saw upon his finger set:
O, her heart joyed, and did beget
A pleasant trust in all its fate.
Full of a fond expectancy,
Yet heavy at her heart, and nigh
Foreboding sore was Guilliadun,—
Failing not still to importune
Each barren hour that brought not peace—
He came; and made at once to cease
The bitter pulse of fear and doubt
That racked her heart; for there, about
His waist, was girded that sweet thing
The scarf her gift, and the fair ring
She saw upon his finger set:
O, her heart joyed, and did beget
A pleasant trust in all its fate.
That day the company was great
About the King, in good array;
For many a noble kind of play
The guests were met; but when the name
Of Eliduc among them came,
The King went to him in mid-hall
And gave him welcome before all.
Anon, he took him, with all grace,
And brought him straightway to the place
Where stood the Princess Guilliadun;
And bade that soon might be begun
Her favour to so great a knight,
As she would show forth her delight
In nobleness and valorous deeds.
About the King, in good array;
190
The guests were met; but when the name
Of Eliduc among them came,
The King went to him in mid-hall
And gave him welcome before all.
Anon, he took him, with all grace,
And brought him straightway to the place
Where stood the Princess Guilliadun;
And bade that soon might be begun
Her favour to so great a knight,
As she would show forth her delight
In nobleness and valorous deeds.
—O, as some music strain that leads
The enthralled sense, on willing feet,
Through new discoveries of sweet,
And leaves it dreaming in some heaven
Of half found rapture,—O, as even
All simple solace-giving things,
Proved now that sweet word of the King's,
Heard in the heart of each of these,
Wherein it healed one same disease
Of restless yearning: and, long pent
In many a secret languishment,
Some inmost thought of Guilliadun
—She could not stay it now—too soon
It rose up like a flood with rush
Out of her heart, and sent its blush
Of rapture to the fairest place
Upon her bosom and her face.
The enthralled sense, on willing feet,
Through new discoveries of sweet,
And leaves it dreaming in some heaven
Of half found rapture,—O, as even
All simple solace-giving things,
Proved now that sweet word of the King's,
Heard in the heart of each of these,
Wherein it healed one same disease
Of restless yearning: and, long pent
191
Some inmost thought of Guilliadun
—She could not stay it now—too soon
It rose up like a flood with rush
Out of her heart, and sent its blush
Of rapture to the fairest place
Upon her bosom and her face.
Into a chamber now they came,
Apart, where no one was to shame
The fair fruition that they took
At once in many a mingling look.
Ah, to their hearts that place seemed sweet,
A fitting place wherein to meet
One's love indeed. Rich to the eyes
It showed, with couch and tapestries
Wrought all of precious stuffs and new
From conquered East,—rich with a hue
Of changeful purples; and therein
Gleamed many an ornament of thin
And precious filigree of gold,
And marble things fair to behold
Through the dim shadows of noontide:
There, too, the casement, open wide
To many a pleasant singing breeze
And moving shadow of fair trees,
Let in the balmy breath all day,
From many a lovely garden way,—
Ay, fair that chamber was, and sweet
For lovers such as they to meet.
Apart, where no one was to shame
The fair fruition that they took
At once in many a mingling look.
Ah, to their hearts that place seemed sweet,
A fitting place wherein to meet
One's love indeed. Rich to the eyes
It showed, with couch and tapestries
Wrought all of precious stuffs and new
From conquered East,—rich with a hue
Of changeful purples; and therein
Gleamed many an ornament of thin
And precious filigree of gold,
And marble things fair to behold
Through the dim shadows of noontide:
192
To many a pleasant singing breeze
And moving shadow of fair trees,
Let in the balmy breath all day,
From many a lovely garden way,—
Ay, fair that chamber was, and sweet
For lovers such as they to meet.
Long time love kept their hearts too faint
For words; and all a sweet restraint
They suffered, daring scarce to dream
The joy they had, that still did seem
Too fair for trusting: then they broke
That precious spell, and words they spoke,—
Such gentle words as knight or dame
May alway, without sin or shame.
And, first, Sir Eliduc would please
That lady's fancy, at her ease,
With all the wonders of the war;
And tales of fair deeds done afar
In harsh fight with her father's foes,
Who so long time oppressed with woes
And bitter dread that pleasant land;
He told her how the heathen band
Cried out at sight of the fair line
Of pointed spears; and how, in fine,
They turned and fled, and were most left
A-dying on the field bereft
Of all their arms and spoil, or died
Fleeing about the forests wide;
And how not such a foe, he thought,
Should now for many a year be brought
From any land of theirs again.
Then too, to tell her he was fain
Some foreign history of kings
And knights, whereof the minstrel sings
Already many a fair romance:
And much he said indeed of France
And of its royal court, with fame
Of many a noble and bright dame.
For words; and all a sweet restraint
They suffered, daring scarce to dream
The joy they had, that still did seem
Too fair for trusting: then they broke
That precious spell, and words they spoke,—
Such gentle words as knight or dame
May alway, without sin or shame.
And, first, Sir Eliduc would please
That lady's fancy, at her ease,
With all the wonders of the war;
And tales of fair deeds done afar
In harsh fight with her father's foes,
Who so long time oppressed with woes
And bitter dread that pleasant land;
193
Cried out at sight of the fair line
Of pointed spears; and how, in fine,
They turned and fled, and were most left
A-dying on the field bereft
Of all their arms and spoil, or died
Fleeing about the forests wide;
And how not such a foe, he thought,
Should now for many a year be brought
From any land of theirs again.
Then too, to tell her he was fain
Some foreign history of kings
And knights, whereof the minstrel sings
Already many a fair romance:
And much he said indeed of France
And of its royal court, with fame
Of many a noble and bright dame.
Meanwhile not less seemed very dear
To him that time while she was near;
Yea, and amid such fair discourse
The depth of many a troublous source
Of feeling came well nigh to break
Its false restraint, yearning to slake
In many a warmer spoken word
Its passion; and each time he heard
Her breath in many a liquid sigh,
Scarce fain he was to let it die
Unculled upon her lips; nor less
Was touched indeed to sweet distress
His heart, with heeding many a staid
And gentle wooing her eyes made
Right piteously amid their fear;
Yea, bitter seemed it to forbear
From satisfying the least part
Of the great longing of the heart,
With any exquisite delight
Of touch, wrought on the flower white
Of hand or shoulder, where the sin
Of sight made well nigh to begin
Some rosy shame: yea, bitter seemed
To let the moments, unredeemed
With aught of love's sufficing gain,
Fall from the precious present, vain—
To pass and dwindle fruitlessly
Into a vanishing memory,
As of frail dreams, dissolving deep
And far away in clouds of sleep.
To him that time while she was near;
Yea, and amid such fair discourse
The depth of many a troublous source
Of feeling came well nigh to break
194
In many a warmer spoken word
Its passion; and each time he heard
Her breath in many a liquid sigh,
Scarce fain he was to let it die
Unculled upon her lips; nor less
Was touched indeed to sweet distress
His heart, with heeding many a staid
And gentle wooing her eyes made
Right piteously amid their fear;
Yea, bitter seemed it to forbear
From satisfying the least part
Of the great longing of the heart,
With any exquisite delight
Of touch, wrought on the flower white
Of hand or shoulder, where the sin
Of sight made well nigh to begin
Some rosy shame: yea, bitter seemed
To let the moments, unredeemed
With aught of love's sufficing gain,
Fall from the precious present, vain—
To pass and dwindle fruitlessly
Into a vanishing memory,
195
And far away in clouds of sleep.
But when again some space was wrought
Heavy through silence, with the thought
Of each, that added burdens more
To every throbbing of the sore
And anguished heart,—he did renew
Fair chosen speech in praise most due
For the rich gifts her hand had sent;
And, more, for the full favour meant
In every gracious word she wrote;
And, thanking her, his heart he smote
And said that he was ready now
—Yea said and sealed it with a vow—
Both with his hand and all he was
To serve her straight in any cause,
Unto the utmost of all right,
As he was now indeed her knight.
Heavy through silence, with the thought
Of each, that added burdens more
To every throbbing of the sore
And anguished heart,—he did renew
Fair chosen speech in praise most due
For the rich gifts her hand had sent;
And, more, for the full favour meant
In every gracious word she wrote;
And, thanking her, his heart he smote
And said that he was ready now
—Yea said and sealed it with a vow—
Both with his hand and all he was
To serve her straight in any cause,
Unto the utmost of all right,
As he was now indeed her knight.
O rich the moments were with joy,
Such as no future could destroy—
Strange, wrought through many an inward throe
And miracle of feeling. Lo
It was the noon; and you might hear
Now, from the open casement near,
Faint sounds that came through sun and shade;
And the mysterious rapture made
Among the leaves and flowers and things
Each rapid summer moment brings
Richly to life. But, on that day,
The garden flowers from far away,—
Yea, even from her own bower apart,
Where so long wearily the heart
Of Guilliadun was wont to dwell,—
They seemed to have a subtler spell
Inwoven with their wafted gift
Of sweetness; and she could not lift
Some urging hand, that seemed to press
Upon her heart and with sore stress
Compel it to some passionate thing
Through many a fearful shuddering:
And love's great magic seemed to meet
With silence of that time, and sweet,
And many a long remembered vow
That urged its true fulfilment now
Out of the lonely maiden past
Of waiting: yea some league at last
Was surely made against her there;
And hard it was for her to bear.
Such as no future could destroy—
Strange, wrought through many an inward throe
196
It was the noon; and you might hear
Now, from the open casement near,
Faint sounds that came through sun and shade;
And the mysterious rapture made
Among the leaves and flowers and things
Each rapid summer moment brings
Richly to life. But, on that day,
The garden flowers from far away,—
Yea, even from her own bower apart,
Where so long wearily the heart
Of Guilliadun was wont to dwell,—
They seemed to have a subtler spell
Inwoven with their wafted gift
Of sweetness; and she could not lift
Some urging hand, that seemed to press
Upon her heart and with sore stress
Compel it to some passionate thing
Through many a fearful shuddering:
And love's great magic seemed to meet
With silence of that time, and sweet,
And many a long remembered vow
That urged its true fulfilment now
197
Of waiting: yea some league at last
Was surely made against her there;
And hard it was for her to bear.
—And, that she could no more withstand,
Full well her fluttering lily hand
Betrayed; and, troubled with its sighs,
Her breast beneath its broideries;
And even her tender foot was seen
To tremble, scarcely hid between
The silken folds wherein it dwelt.
Full well her fluttering lily hand
Betrayed; and, troubled with its sighs,
Her breast beneath its broideries;
And even her tender foot was seen
To tremble, scarcely hid between
The silken folds wherein it dwelt.
In all her soul a fear she felt;
For she thought, on that summer day,
Sure Love was either come to slay
Her heart that moment, or must do
Some miracle to save her through
At once, what way He only can.
For she thought, on that summer day,
Sure Love was either come to slay
Her heart that moment, or must do
Some miracle to save her through
At once, what way He only can.
And then, indeed, her lips began
All in a passionate way, and spake
Quite blindly, as the heart did break
Straight into many a beautiful word
Of love; the which, when she had heard,
Seemed fearful with some direst sin
That leaves a rankling stain within
And dread for ever.
All in a passionate way, and spake
Quite blindly, as the heart did break
198
Of love; the which, when she had heard,
Seemed fearful with some direst sin
That leaves a rankling stain within
And dread for ever.
Other far,
And but the sweetest words that are,
They seemed to Eliduc I think;
And scarcely fain was he to shrink
From one of them: but when, aghast,
She ceased,—softly he took at last
Her hand, that, like a bird quite faint
With fluttering, failed of all restraint,
And lay in his, so white and fair
That his lips did not long forbear
From kissing out their love on it:
Nor after did they quite omit
Their pleasant lore of eloquence;
Nor did the heart in any sense
Fail to suffice their utmost need.
For, in that place, beset, indeed,
With every sweet conspiring spell,
His heart withstood no more; but fell,
Past saving, into such deep snare
And passionate sin of love, that bare
Of joy seemed any former place
Of rapturous vows, and dim the face
That any earlier lover bore;
And with his lips he quite forswore
—Yea, now, with praise of that hour's bliss,
All former spoken rhapsodies.
And but the sweetest words that are,
They seemed to Eliduc I think;
And scarcely fain was he to shrink
From one of them: but when, aghast,
She ceased,—softly he took at last
Her hand, that, like a bird quite faint
With fluttering, failed of all restraint,
And lay in his, so white and fair
That his lips did not long forbear
From kissing out their love on it:
Nor after did they quite omit
Their pleasant lore of eloquence;
Nor did the heart in any sense
Fail to suffice their utmost need.
For, in that place, beset, indeed,
With every sweet conspiring spell,
His heart withstood no more; but fell,
199
And passionate sin of love, that bare
Of joy seemed any former place
Of rapturous vows, and dim the face
That any earlier lover bore;
And with his lips he quite forswore
—Yea, now, with praise of that hour's bliss,
All former spoken rhapsodies.
Of all the things a man may have
Before he cometh to the grave—
Of all the joys that he may win
Through any toil or any sin,
This is the richest: to possess
One yearned-for hour in loneliness
Beside one's love, in some fair clime,
In some fair purple Autumn time;
For quite shall be forgotten then
The pains and labours among men,
The bitter things of thought and fear;
The bitter ends of hope; and, near,
Quite at one's side, yea, on one's heart,
Yea, touching, with no more to part
The yearning hands or looks that meet,
Shall seem the often dreamed-of sweet
Much more than all the glowing things
To which the fondest memory clings—
Much more than any rapturous past
Or future in fair heaven at last.
And this—the fairest moment, sure,
In each man's life—it shall endure
Some noon; while creeping twilight dims
Slowly some flower's purple rims,
Or some green distance suffers change
Fading before us: then this strange
And precious rapture—it shall pass,
And never come again, alas!
Nay, for there shall be bliss and bliss,
And love and love, and kiss and kiss,
And many a pleasant touch of hands,
And place for love in many lands,
And communings of heart with heart,
Much to be gained much to impart,—
All these; but, surely, never more
Doth any time at all restore
That faded purple of delight,
And the same sweet and the same sight
As when one's love in that fair place
Blushed with strange crimson, face to face
With every inward passionate thought
Into real living blisses wrought,
And the heart, through some mystery,
Seemed filling earths and heavens to be
—Yea, things and spaces dimly known—
With endless feelings of its own.
Before he cometh to the grave—
Of all the joys that he may win
Through any toil or any sin,
This is the richest: to possess
One yearned-for hour in loneliness
Beside one's love, in some fair clime,
In some fair purple Autumn time;
For quite shall be forgotten then
The pains and labours among men,
The bitter things of thought and fear;
The bitter ends of hope; and, near,
Quite at one's side, yea, on one's heart,
Yea, touching, with no more to part
200
Shall seem the often dreamed-of sweet
Much more than all the glowing things
To which the fondest memory clings—
Much more than any rapturous past
Or future in fair heaven at last.
And this—the fairest moment, sure,
In each man's life—it shall endure
Some noon; while creeping twilight dims
Slowly some flower's purple rims,
Or some green distance suffers change
Fading before us: then this strange
And precious rapture—it shall pass,
And never come again, alas!
Nay, for there shall be bliss and bliss,
And love and love, and kiss and kiss,
And many a pleasant touch of hands,
And place for love in many lands,
And communings of heart with heart,
Much to be gained much to impart,—
All these; but, surely, never more
Doth any time at all restore
That faded purple of delight,
201
As when one's love in that fair place
Blushed with strange crimson, face to face
With every inward passionate thought
Into real living blisses wrought,
And the heart, through some mystery,
Seemed filling earths and heavens to be
—Yea, things and spaces dimly known—
With endless feelings of its own.
Hereafter, surely I may say,
That, many an hour in night or day,
Those lovers knew some precious part
Of all the joy that heart with heart
Can so beget. Often they came,
And found that silken place the same
In purple growing glooms at eve;
And sat while pleasure would deceive
Their thoughts with many a changing dream
Wrought of each momentary gleam
Of the unearthly twilight blue,
That seemed to make the world anew,
Like some enamelled picture fair
With jewelled stars and leaves: now there,
And now in wanderings amid
The pleasant flower-paths, half hid
Beneath safe shadows of the trees,
They dreamed some dream enough to please
All silently; or, one by one,
In their own soft and murmurous tone,
Spoke all the spells that love hath set
In wild sweet words, that ever fret
The lips of lovers, till his gold
And honied secret be all told.
That, many an hour in night or day,
Those lovers knew some precious part
Of all the joy that heart with heart
Can so beget. Often they came,
And found that silken place the same
In purple growing glooms at eve;
And sat while pleasure would deceive
Their thoughts with many a changing dream
Wrought of each momentary gleam
Of the unearthly twilight blue,
That seemed to make the world anew,
Like some enamelled picture fair
202
And now in wanderings amid
The pleasant flower-paths, half hid
Beneath safe shadows of the trees,
They dreamed some dream enough to please
All silently; or, one by one,
In their own soft and murmurous tone,
Spoke all the spells that love hath set
In wild sweet words, that ever fret
The lips of lovers, till his gold
And honied secret be all told.
So, of his exile, day by day,
This joy took many an hour away:
It seemed to Eliduc, perchance,
Like some fair love in some romance,
Passed wholly in strange foreign land
And beneath some presiding hand
Of magic.—At his heart did lie
The amulets of memory
In unsought places falling dim,
Till the past was nigh lost to him:
This joy took many an hour away:
It seemed to Eliduc, perchance,
Like some fair love in some romance,
Passed wholly in strange foreign land
And beneath some presiding hand
Of magic.—At his heart did lie
The amulets of memory
In unsought places falling dim,
Till the past was nigh lost to him:
203
And yet, somewhile, amid this sweet,
The voice within him would repeat
The living vow his heart had made
To sacred loves, and the words said;
And the face of his own wife dear
Some days was with him everywhere
Between the times of that strange love;
As though from far away she strove;
And her face, pleading speechless, bore
Great shadows and forebodings sore;
And often, through the silent night,
She seemed to come with the moonlight;
And, with one known look, holding him
In fair arms to her bosom dim
Through many a tear-stained broidery,
Mutely some importunity
She seemed all earnestly to keep
—Yea through the hours of his sad sleep,
And quite until the strange wide morn
Was opened yellow and the horn
Of foreign huntsmen filled the land.
The voice within him would repeat
The living vow his heart had made
To sacred loves, and the words said;
And the face of his own wife dear
Some days was with him everywhere
Between the times of that strange love;
As though from far away she strove;
And her face, pleading speechless, bore
Great shadows and forebodings sore;
And often, through the silent night,
She seemed to come with the moonlight;
And, with one known look, holding him
In fair arms to her bosom dim
Through many a tear-stained broidery,
Mutely some importunity
She seemed all earnestly to keep
—Yea through the hours of his sad sleep,
And quite until the strange wide morn
Was opened yellow and the horn
Of foreign huntsmen filled the land.
204
Sometimes he could not well withstand
The yearning fairly to behold
Her face and know what it foretold
Of dim calamity; or still
Within him grew some weaker will
To visit now and see how fared
His lands, and whether any cared
For what was his, and if perchance,
Saved from the evil governance
Of plotters vile, the king were turned
Again to him so wrongly spurned.
The yearning fairly to behold
Her face and know what it foretold
Of dim calamity; or still
Within him grew some weaker will
To visit now and see how fared
His lands, and whether any cared
For what was his, and if perchance,
Saved from the evil governance
Of plotters vile, the king were turned
Again to him so wrongly spurned.
Meanwhile it had but come to pass,
His king,—sore grieved, finding, alas,
How, with deep traitorous intent,
Those false reviling ones had bent
His mind to a wrath all unjust
Against one worthiest of all trust;
And further, for that he was pressed
Right hotly now in lands possessed
Upon a border, by hard foes;—
He sent an embassy of those
His noblest, who the most were dear
To Eliduc; and bade them bear
A royal word of full regret
Praying him wholly to forget
His wrong and exile, and to bring
His unmatched sword back to his king.
His king,—sore grieved, finding, alas,
How, with deep traitorous intent,
Those false reviling ones had bent
His mind to a wrath all unjust
Against one worthiest of all trust;
And further, for that he was pressed
Right hotly now in lands possessed
Upon a border, by hard foes;—
He sent an embassy of those
205
To Eliduc; and bade them bear
A royal word of full regret
Praying him wholly to forget
His wrong and exile, and to bring
His unmatched sword back to his king.
But lo, no sooner had he heard
Than he was glad of every word.
Yet was he troubled other way;
And held his heart still day by day
From seeking such a bitter thing
As his free parting from that king
Who had so soothed his hard exile
With perfect favour of his smile:
But, more than all, for the fair sake
Of Guilliadun, and fear to break
The very life within her heart
At the first seeking to depart;
For this, full many a bitter thought
Most deeply in his bosom wrought,
Stirring the love within him straight;
And all the tenderness that late
Had gathered in the inmost core
Of feeling, now it made right sore
The very soul of him within.
Than he was glad of every word.
Yet was he troubled other way;
And held his heart still day by day
From seeking such a bitter thing
As his free parting from that king
Who had so soothed his hard exile
With perfect favour of his smile:
But, more than all, for the fair sake
Of Guilliadun, and fear to break
The very life within her heart
At the first seeking to depart;
For this, full many a bitter thought
Most deeply in his bosom wrought,
Stirring the love within him straight;
And all the tenderness that late
206
Of feeling, now it made right sore
The very soul of him within.
—O Ladies, when you will begin
With love, you know scarce on what dark
And eddying stream you do embark
A skiff so frail and rudderless
As this poor heart! nor can you guess
How soon, and in what subtle way,
Love will procure you for his prey,
Quite trapped sometime at unawares
In dire entanglement and snares
Past all your own wit to undo:
Yea, but ye know that this is true:
And now ye see that noble knight
Sir Eliduc, holy and right
Before all men, is come to fall,
And so without his fault at all,
In such a perilous strait indeed,
Of love, between two ways that lead
Each to some equal ill,—I deem
That well before him it must seem
A hard and hopeless thing to live
For any day, now he must strive
In seekings or forsakings sore:
I pray you pity him therefore.—
With love, you know scarce on what dark
And eddying stream you do embark
A skiff so frail and rudderless
As this poor heart! nor can you guess
How soon, and in what subtle way,
Love will procure you for his prey,
Quite trapped sometime at unawares
In dire entanglement and snares
Past all your own wit to undo:
Yea, but ye know that this is true:
And now ye see that noble knight
Sir Eliduc, holy and right
Before all men, is come to fall,
And so without his fault at all,
In such a perilous strait indeed,
Of love, between two ways that lead
Each to some equal ill,—I deem
That well before him it must seem
207
For any day, now he must strive
In seekings or forsakings sore:
I pray you pity him therefore.—
And when he found that Guilliadun
Fell in her sorrow nigh to swoon
At word of parting from him so,—
And that no joy again could grow
In her sad bosom for the sake
Of other love, but she would take
At once some inward death for him,
To waste her body and quite dim
Her sad remainder of life's space—
When this he saw upon her face,
Knowing her trust and truth in love,
He could not quite forbear; but strove
To soothe her heart with promise fair,
That, surely, no toil would he spare
To win some near day of return,
Whereto he ne'er should cease to yearn.
Fell in her sorrow nigh to swoon
At word of parting from him so,—
And that no joy again could grow
In her sad bosom for the sake
Of other love, but she would take
At once some inward death for him,
To waste her body and quite dim
Her sad remainder of life's space—
When this he saw upon her face,
Knowing her trust and truth in love,
He could not quite forbear; but strove
To soothe her heart with promise fair,
That, surely, no toil would he spare
To win some near day of return,
Whereto he ne'er should cease to yearn.
So Guilliadun beheld him go;
And stayed her sorrow and her woe;
For she could love him all the while
Waiting, and think of his last smile;
And trust his tender uttering,
And dream of the fair future thing.
208
For she could love him all the while
Waiting, and think of his last smile;
And trust his tender uttering,
And dream of the fair future thing.
Then in his land he did arrive;
And made the joy of all to thrive
With sight of him, whom all men knew
Long time so noble and so true,
And now again their very strength
And saviour; for no foe at length
Endured before his armèd hand:
Right soon he beat them from the land.
And made the joy of all to thrive
With sight of him, whom all men knew
Long time so noble and so true,
And now again their very strength
And saviour; for no foe at length
Endured before his armèd hand:
Right soon he beat them from the land.
A year he was in field and court;
And now his honour fell not short
Of anything a king may give;
And, save the king, no man did live
So royally in all men's eyes.
And now his honour fell not short
Of anything a king may give;
And, save the king, no man did live
So royally in all men's eyes.
But, after all the hard emprise
And triumph of the war were past,
He did become as one downcast
With some o'er-measured weight of things
Sad in some memory that clings
Speechless about the heart. And slow,
Against his will he seemed to go
To tilt or tournay or fair sport;
So that, for him, in all the court,
Was truly now great heaviness,
And many an one would strive to guess
What thing so ailed him. Then again
He did return—as one most fain
Of solitude—to his own place.
And triumph of the war were past,
209
With some o'er-measured weight of things
Sad in some memory that clings
Speechless about the heart. And slow,
Against his will he seemed to go
To tilt or tournay or fair sport;
So that, for him, in all the court,
Was truly now great heaviness,
And many an one would strive to guess
What thing so ailed him. Then again
He did return—as one most fain
Of solitude—to his own place.
There they were right glad of his face;
And there, maybe, he stayed awhile
In such fair peace as would beguile
The living sadness that he bore,
And thoughts that should not evermore
Be slain or ended; there, maybe,
In his grey castle by the sea,
The pleasant holy pasts renewed
Awhile their hold on him, and sued
About his heart not all in vain;
Or it seemed precious to regain
Each old accustomed thing and mode,
And find for him there still abode
Unchanged the honourable love;
And many a time he sought to move,
With sudden tenderness new felt,
Some little memory that dwelt
Far away in its hidden place
Among the rest; or on the face
Unchanging sweet of his true wife,
Fair with the love of all his life,
He would find still, and prize it best,
Some likeness of the tenderest
And first love-look.
And there, maybe, he stayed awhile
In such fair peace as would beguile
The living sadness that he bore,
And thoughts that should not evermore
Be slain or ended; there, maybe,
In his grey castle by the sea,
The pleasant holy pasts renewed
Awhile their hold on him, and sued
About his heart not all in vain;
210
Each old accustomed thing and mode,
And find for him there still abode
Unchanged the honourable love;
And many a time he sought to move,
With sudden tenderness new felt,
Some little memory that dwelt
Far away in its hidden place
Among the rest; or on the face
Unchanging sweet of his true wife,
Fair with the love of all his life,
He would find still, and prize it best,
Some likeness of the tenderest
And first love-look.
—Alas, I say,
For afterward he fell away
From all this; ah, his bitter fate—
It could but have him soon or late!
And sadness and the utter strength
Of thoughts divided, and, at length,
The whole real passion of strange love,
Foregone awhile, rolled back and drove
His soul to its sweet sin again.
For afterward he fell away
From all this; ah, his bitter fate—
It could but have him soon or late!
And sadness and the utter strength
Of thoughts divided, and, at length,
The whole real passion of strange love,
Foregone awhile, rolled back and drove
His soul to its sweet sin again.
211
But still he lingered, as though fain
He would deny the thing, and deem
That some mere false and evil dream
Were but defrauding him awhile
With strange delusion; a sad guile
Taught him to do in every way
His wont; nor ceased he any day
From chace with hounds or falconry;
And yet when there was none to see
He ceased maybe from all, subdued
At once with some most bitter mood
Of thoughts that chimed not with his deed;
And, as though inwardly did bleed
Some sudden wound, he reined up short,
In very middle of the sport,
In any lonely wood or place
Of cover,—heeding not his chace
Nor yelping of his hounds returned
Sadly about him. But he spurned
Long time such weakness and forbore;
Yet more the weakness grew and more;
Until he could not bear the day,
So irksome seemed to him his way,
So bitter was this inward strife.
The very sweetness of his wife
And every tender silent look
Became a thing he dared not brook
And harder than the hardest taunt
Against his falseness.—In no haunt
Familiar with the fair times past
And lost, for him now could there last
Repose or peace; but he would flee
Long dreary miles beside the sea
In rough paths of the rocks, and dare
Some solitude no man knew where,
And battle all day with that foe,
His fate of passionate sin and woe.
He would deny the thing, and deem
That some mere false and evil dream
Were but defrauding him awhile
With strange delusion; a sad guile
Taught him to do in every way
His wont; nor ceased he any day
From chace with hounds or falconry;
And yet when there was none to see
He ceased maybe from all, subdued
At once with some most bitter mood
Of thoughts that chimed not with his deed;
And, as though inwardly did bleed
Some sudden wound, he reined up short,
In very middle of the sport,
In any lonely wood or place
Of cover,—heeding not his chace
Nor yelping of his hounds returned
Sadly about him. But he spurned
Long time such weakness and forbore;
Yet more the weakness grew and more;
Until he could not bear the day,
212
So bitter was this inward strife.
The very sweetness of his wife
And every tender silent look
Became a thing he dared not brook
And harder than the hardest taunt
Against his falseness.—In no haunt
Familiar with the fair times past
And lost, for him now could there last
Repose or peace; but he would flee
Long dreary miles beside the sea
In rough paths of the rocks, and dare
Some solitude no man knew where,
And battle all day with that foe,
His fate of passionate sin and woe.
But, one night, in a ship well manned
With speedy oarsmen, to the land
Of Guilliadun once more he sped.
Darkness and storm were overhead;
And there, apprised some secret way
He took her—glad through her dismay
At any sight of him at last
And end of bitter waiting past.
And through the night upon his breast
Love made indeed her terror rest;
Till on the morrow the pure sun
Seemed mindful of no wild deed done.
With speedy oarsmen, to the land
Of Guilliadun once more he sped.
Darkness and storm were overhead;
And there, apprised some secret way
He took her—glad through her dismay
At any sight of him at last
213
And through the night upon his breast
Love made indeed her terror rest;
Till on the morrow the pure sun
Seemed mindful of no wild deed done.
And now that all the sky above
Was blue and their hearts full of love;
And all about them fell a sound
Of golden waves like laughs around
Their rapid keel; the while, afar,
To the fair coloured distant bar
Of the bright ocean, gleamed the hue
Of halcyon hours,—ah, now they two
Joyed in great silent overflow
Of loves: for them, the very glow,
And myriad-woven sounds of wind,
And mingling sounds of waves combined
In many a mystery of sweet;
And, in accomplishment complete
Of some ineffable thing dreamed,
With secret inmost soul they seemed
To touch now wholly; and a thrill
Of inward rapture did fulfil
The long desire of every look,
So that their thoughts now scarcely took
The weary and imperfect ways
Of words, as in those fainter days
When they were sadly bound to speak
Their hearts in repetition weak,
Or in an agonised embrace
To kill some doubt or to efface
The constant marring bitterness.
Now, in the mute and pure caress
Of liquid looks and secret thought,
As though at length all love had wrought
Some miracle of peace, they lay,
Voyaging in their bark made gay
With many a coloured pennon bright
And canopy beneath the light
Floating in silken folds; and near,
Time after time, they loved to hear
The silver sound of oars, and oft
The music of the lutes, played soft
About the prow, and like a song
Fallen from some æolian tongue
Of zephyr. All about them came
A strange sweet pleasure above name
Or word or thought: and things around,
In living sight or living sound,
Grew in mysterious sort akin
To every feeling sense within
Their hearts; and many an unseen kiss
Seemed to be covering them with bliss;
For the most trivial noise, that thrilled
From the sail fluttering or filled
With breath from some rich unseen lip,
Or the least murmur of the ship
Came to them changed some way, and fraught
With strange enchantment or strange thought
—Fell into accents at their heart
With tenderness enough to start
Their pleasant tears. And, as they went,
Sometimes a little wonderment
Would move them, or they thought, perchance,
That they were fallen in some trance
Of joy too perfect to endure:
For, now, the world seemed all so pure
Down through the waves or far above
Through heavenly blue, and, for their love,
Breaking in colours fair and oft
Like smiles ineffable and soft
Out on the calm, and all for them,
Breaking in many a flower and stem
Of wonders beautiful with light,
Revealing liquid depths of sight
Under each amber-coloured wave.
—So joyed they. Ladies so I crave,
Yea, so I pray Love keep for me
Some halcyon hour upon the sea
With one most loved,—some hour all brief
Between the sins and all the grief
Of love,—between the day and night
Of bitter life, one hour's delight!
Was blue and their hearts full of love;
And all about them fell a sound
Of golden waves like laughs around
Their rapid keel; the while, afar,
To the fair coloured distant bar
Of the bright ocean, gleamed the hue
Of halcyon hours,—ah, now they two
Joyed in great silent overflow
Of loves: for them, the very glow,
And myriad-woven sounds of wind,
And mingling sounds of waves combined
In many a mystery of sweet;
And, in accomplishment complete
Of some ineffable thing dreamed,
With secret inmost soul they seemed
To touch now wholly; and a thrill
214
The long desire of every look,
So that their thoughts now scarcely took
The weary and imperfect ways
Of words, as in those fainter days
When they were sadly bound to speak
Their hearts in repetition weak,
Or in an agonised embrace
To kill some doubt or to efface
The constant marring bitterness.
Now, in the mute and pure caress
Of liquid looks and secret thought,
As though at length all love had wrought
Some miracle of peace, they lay,
Voyaging in their bark made gay
With many a coloured pennon bright
And canopy beneath the light
Floating in silken folds; and near,
Time after time, they loved to hear
The silver sound of oars, and oft
The music of the lutes, played soft
About the prow, and like a song
Fallen from some æolian tongue
215
A strange sweet pleasure above name
Or word or thought: and things around,
In living sight or living sound,
Grew in mysterious sort akin
To every feeling sense within
Their hearts; and many an unseen kiss
Seemed to be covering them with bliss;
For the most trivial noise, that thrilled
From the sail fluttering or filled
With breath from some rich unseen lip,
Or the least murmur of the ship
Came to them changed some way, and fraught
With strange enchantment or strange thought
—Fell into accents at their heart
With tenderness enough to start
Their pleasant tears. And, as they went,
Sometimes a little wonderment
Would move them, or they thought, perchance,
That they were fallen in some trance
Of joy too perfect to endure:
For, now, the world seemed all so pure
Down through the waves or far above
216
Breaking in colours fair and oft
Like smiles ineffable and soft
Out on the calm, and all for them,
Breaking in many a flower and stem
Of wonders beautiful with light,
Revealing liquid depths of sight
Under each amber-coloured wave.
—So joyed they. Ladies so I crave,
Yea, so I pray Love keep for me
Some halcyon hour upon the sea
With one most loved,—some hour all brief
Between the sins and all the grief
Of love,—between the day and night
Of bitter life, one hour's delight!
Alas! for they had come perchance
Now even to the land of France;
But ere they touched it, and with feet
Quite saved from all the sea,—the sweet
False wand of their enchantment fell;
And sudden broken was the spell
Which love had laid on all their fate
To blind them: and the treacherous state
And smiles of the dissembling sea
Changed fearfully to many a free
And foamy utterance of wrath.
Sudden before them all their path
Showed horrible with writhing sight
Of restless billows without light
Athwart the feeble ruling tides,
With bounding backs and seething sides,
Urging their wild tumultuous way,
Lolling out forkèd tongues of spray:
Then, with a quick and rushing blast,
The dismal tempest clouds were cast
All ruin-filled across the face
Of heaven, marring each sweet space,
And rending all the false fair blue.
Quickly each sudden peril grew.
And soon the wind and stormy noise
Broke forth above them—a great voice
In torrent menaces of death;
And soon, from greatest depths beneath,
The monstrous multitude of waves
Came up from all the darksome caves
Ploughed over by their goading keel,
And stood around them, harsh as steel,
Brandishing many a fearful point
And whitening crest, above dark glint
Of cloven seas that opened wide
Vast mouths of waters on each side.
Now even to the land of France;
But ere they touched it, and with feet
Quite saved from all the sea,—the sweet
False wand of their enchantment fell;
And sudden broken was the spell
Which love had laid on all their fate
217
And smiles of the dissembling sea
Changed fearfully to many a free
And foamy utterance of wrath.
Sudden before them all their path
Showed horrible with writhing sight
Of restless billows without light
Athwart the feeble ruling tides,
With bounding backs and seething sides,
Urging their wild tumultuous way,
Lolling out forkèd tongues of spray:
Then, with a quick and rushing blast,
The dismal tempest clouds were cast
All ruin-filled across the face
Of heaven, marring each sweet space,
And rending all the false fair blue.
Quickly each sudden peril grew.
And soon the wind and stormy noise
Broke forth above them—a great voice
In torrent menaces of death;
And soon, from greatest depths beneath,
The monstrous multitude of waves
Came up from all the darksome caves
218
And stood around them, harsh as steel,
Brandishing many a fearful point
And whitening crest, above dark glint
Of cloven seas that opened wide
Vast mouths of waters on each side.
And when there was no sort of peace,
But dread did utterly release
The trembling ribald tongues of men
—Thinking that surely they were then
To deal at once with death,—there grew
A fearful thought among that crew
Of fated men, and through the ship
A murmur went from lip to lip.
But dread did utterly release
The trembling ribald tongues of men
—Thinking that surely they were then
To deal at once with death,—there grew
A fearful thought among that crew
Of fated men, and through the ship
A murmur went from lip to lip.
And, at last, one man from the crowd
Came forth, and bitterly and loud
He cried that hard upon the head
Of each of them was punishèd
The grievous sin of one alone;
And that the wrath of heaven was shown
Now clearly for Sir Eliduc,
And all they had this evil luck
Because that, foully, in despite
Of every law and holy right,
He bore that maiden to the land
Where yet one, wedded with his hand,
Lady and wife, dwelt sweet and good:
And surely none could change the mood
Of heaven; and, till their souls were seen
Quite purged from all such guilt and clean,
This hand of punishment so sore
Would not depart; but the dear shore
Of that their native land would quake
Beneath them and reject to take
Them so polluted anywhere.
Came forth, and bitterly and loud
He cried that hard upon the head
Of each of them was punishèd
The grievous sin of one alone;
And that the wrath of heaven was shown
Now clearly for Sir Eliduc,
219
Because that, foully, in despite
Of every law and holy right,
He bore that maiden to the land
Where yet one, wedded with his hand,
Lady and wife, dwelt sweet and good:
And surely none could change the mood
Of heaven; and, till their souls were seen
Quite purged from all such guilt and clean,
This hand of punishment so sore
Would not depart; but the dear shore
Of that their native land would quake
Beneath them and reject to take
Them so polluted anywhere.
So cried he loudly, coming there
To Eliduc, heeding no threat,
And, ere indeed he yielded yet,
One word had wrought its bitter sting
—One word that told an evil thing;
Launched fatal, like some wingèd dart,
It struck unerringly the heart
Of Guilliadun, pale where she lay,
Half fainting in the mere dismay
At thought of death in midst of bliss;
The sense thereof she could not miss.
The sense of all the treacherous woe
That fate and love had made her know.
Then, with a wound, upon her smote
The pang of all her life remote,
To distant days made full of grief,
And to all days beyond relief,
Yea, while she yet lived Guilliadun.
And so at once as in a swoon
Or death she fell. O all in vain
Was any leech to bring again
The precious throbbings of her heart,
Or any kiss to melt apart
Her sealèd lips and from beneath
Draw forth the spirit of her breath.
But Eliduc, half mad was he,
And would not have that this could be
Her death; and now, in all men's sight,
He strove with the full passionate might
Of kisses and entreaties hot,
Wrought breathlessly upon each spot
Where lingered yet the tender hue
Of her scarce life: so burning too
With rage and vengeance was each word
He said, no man of them that heard
Durst come before him now for dread,
No man durst say that she was dead.
To Eliduc, heeding no threat,
And, ere indeed he yielded yet,
One word had wrought its bitter sting
—One word that told an evil thing;
Launched fatal, like some wingèd dart,
It struck unerringly the heart
Of Guilliadun, pale where she lay,
220
At thought of death in midst of bliss;
The sense thereof she could not miss.
The sense of all the treacherous woe
That fate and love had made her know.
Then, with a wound, upon her smote
The pang of all her life remote,
To distant days made full of grief,
And to all days beyond relief,
Yea, while she yet lived Guilliadun.
And so at once as in a swoon
Or death she fell. O all in vain
Was any leech to bring again
The precious throbbings of her heart,
Or any kiss to melt apart
Her sealèd lips and from beneath
Draw forth the spirit of her breath.
But Eliduc, half mad was he,
And would not have that this could be
Her death; and now, in all men's sight,
He strove with the full passionate might
Of kisses and entreaties hot,
Wrought breathlessly upon each spot
221
Of her scarce life: so burning too
With rage and vengeance was each word
He said, no man of them that heard
Durst come before him now for dread,
No man durst say that she was dead.
—But lo, such sudden way appeased
Was all the wrath of heaven, and ceased
From any troubling of them more;
And very soon they came to shore.—
Was all the wrath of heaven, and ceased
From any troubling of them more;
And very soon they came to shore.—
Then wholly taken up with grief
—With all the growing thought of grief—
Sir Eliduc he did not stay
For help or vengeance on that day;
But himself from the bitter shore
That tender Guilliadun he bore.
And quickly to a hidden place,
Hidden and hard for steps to trace,
Athwart the pathless forest dim
He brought her. There all known to him
A little sanctuary stood
Hallowed in middle of the wood,
A silent place deserted quite;
And there upon the altar white
He placed her, beauteous with closed eyes,
A perfect lover's sacrifice.
—With all the growing thought of grief—
Sir Eliduc he did not stay
For help or vengeance on that day;
But himself from the bitter shore
That tender Guilliadun he bore.
And quickly to a hidden place,
Hidden and hard for steps to trace,
Athwart the pathless forest dim
He brought her. There all known to him
A little sanctuary stood
222
A silent place deserted quite;
And there upon the altar white
He placed her, beauteous with closed eyes,
A perfect lover's sacrifice.
It seemed as though the forest made
For that white place a deeper shade;
And there the trees all vast and old
Stood with their secrets manifold
All shrouded up in shadowy thought,
Between broad leaves together brought,
Like vast hands folded in repose.
It was the place some hermit chose
To solemnise with all his tears;
And of his strivings through long years,
And all the penitence he did,
And all the holy life he hid,
—The leaves and flowers, of all these things,
Cherished maybe rememberings,
—Kept tender secrets of the ways
He lived and hallowed all his days,
The tears he shed, the sighs he sighed,
And the sweet spot on which he died.
For that white place a deeper shade;
And there the trees all vast and old
Stood with their secrets manifold
All shrouded up in shadowy thought,
Between broad leaves together brought,
Like vast hands folded in repose.
It was the place some hermit chose
To solemnise with all his tears;
And of his strivings through long years,
And all the penitence he did,
And all the holy life he hid,
—The leaves and flowers, of all these things,
Cherished maybe rememberings,
—Kept tender secrets of the ways
He lived and hallowed all his days,
223
And the sweet spot on which he died.
There was a holy sort of gloom
As though most certainly a tomb
Were hidden thereabout somewhere,
With scarce a sign, but very dear
To all the flowers and to God:
And certainly the perfumed sod
Seemed consecrated all around.
As though most certainly a tomb
Were hidden thereabout somewhere,
With scarce a sign, but very dear
To all the flowers and to God:
And certainly the perfumed sod
Seemed consecrated all around.
So Eliduc a place had found,
A place quite sweet and lone enough
To make an end of such a love
—Not ineffectual at the last,
But, out of all its short sweet past,
Furnishing some great fund of tears
And memories to enrich long years
With many a secret rhapsody:
So the real flower of love should be,
—O flower unearthly, over-rife,
Too frail for any soil of life!—
Henceforth some immaterial bloom
Of ever-lingering perfume;
So he should keep that precious sin
A thing henceforth all hid within
The heart, not judged of any man:
Let Him judge Eliduc who can!
A place quite sweet and lone enough
To make an end of such a love
—Not ineffectual at the last,
But, out of all its short sweet past,
Furnishing some great fund of tears
And memories to enrich long years
With many a secret rhapsody:
So the real flower of love should be,
—O flower unearthly, over-rife,
Too frail for any soil of life!—
Henceforth some immaterial bloom
224
So he should keep that precious sin
A thing henceforth all hid within
The heart, not judged of any man:
Let Him judge Eliduc who can!
But, while he had her there alone,
A little season, to atone,
With many an utterance agonised
Of tears and utmost grief unprized,
—Before the bitter silences
Of fates, that hearkened pitiless,
Weighing nought of the words and sighs,
Gazing from cold futurities
Immutable with doomful gaze,
—And more than all before her face
Silent more fearfully indeed,—
Truly she did not fail to plead
Fairly with him for all her wrong;
Yea, piteously indeed and long,
Her whole face, with no smile beneath,
Made seeming sad for aye with death,
Reproached him with an endless look;
The very mouth from which he took
Its kiss, seemed now, in some clear way
Its own, to form what it would say,
And in a wordless whispering
Absolve itself from everything
That left him solace after all:
Seeming with pressed lips to recall
The spirit from each little kiss
Denying all the past of bliss.
And this was more than to have heard
The vengeance of some poisoned word
Or seen one look of sad adieu
And disavowal,—this, to sue
For ever, with remorseful cares
And penitential pain and prayers,
Her face, that seemed still to retain
A sad account of every stain
His sinful passionate touch had wrought,—
Her face that seemed in holy thought,
Beyond relenting the least while
Into the faintest, purest smile.
A little season, to atone,
With many an utterance agonised
Of tears and utmost grief unprized,
—Before the bitter silences
Of fates, that hearkened pitiless,
Weighing nought of the words and sighs,
Gazing from cold futurities
Immutable with doomful gaze,
—And more than all before her face
Silent more fearfully indeed,—
Truly she did not fail to plead
Fairly with him for all her wrong;
Yea, piteously indeed and long,
Her whole face, with no smile beneath,
Made seeming sad for aye with death,
Reproached him with an endless look;
225
Its kiss, seemed now, in some clear way
Its own, to form what it would say,
And in a wordless whispering
Absolve itself from everything
That left him solace after all:
Seeming with pressed lips to recall
The spirit from each little kiss
Denying all the past of bliss.
And this was more than to have heard
The vengeance of some poisoned word
Or seen one look of sad adieu
And disavowal,—this, to sue
For ever, with remorseful cares
And penitential pain and prayers,
Her face, that seemed still to retain
A sad account of every stain
His sinful passionate touch had wrought,—
Her face that seemed in holy thought,
Beyond relenting the least while
Into the faintest, purest smile.
In truth he had her fallen there,
As though she were some flower fair,
Ruined with eager wanton hand,
So that no man should understand
The mystery of its sweetness—now
Dissolved in the sad overthrow
Of petals yielding to each breath
Their passionless unfruitful death:
226
Ruined with eager wanton hand,
So that no man should understand
The mystery of its sweetness—now
Dissolved in the sad overthrow
Of petals yielding to each breath
Their passionless unfruitful death:
So a mere bitter fruitless thing
At length, after all suffering
Of love and long desire and sin,
It was in such a sort to win
That shadow of possessing her,
That joyless liberty to stir
The fallen blossom of her face,
To put her hand in any place,
And weary of each wondrous touch
His heart had coveted so much:
At length, after all suffering
Of love and long desire and sin,
It was in such a sort to win
That shadow of possessing her,
That joyless liberty to stir
The fallen blossom of her face,
To put her hand in any place,
And weary of each wondrous touch
His heart had coveted so much:
Now indeed there was none to care
What he should do with her sweet hair;
But he could wind it as of old
Around her head, or loose its gold
In lavish waste upon her neck;
And all the gems that used to deck
The fair white place above her breast,
The jewelries upon her vest,
And starry rings that made her hands
Like flowers on which a fair dew stands,
Piercing the light with sudden hues,
—All these were his to touch and use;
Sad playthings now were they, alas,
Pastimes for grief that could not pass.
What he should do with her sweet hair;
But he could wind it as of old
Around her head, or loose its gold
227
And all the gems that used to deck
The fair white place above her breast,
The jewelries upon her vest,
And starry rings that made her hands
Like flowers on which a fair dew stands,
Piercing the light with sudden hues,
—All these were his to touch and use;
Sad playthings now were they, alas,
Pastimes for grief that could not pass.
How false a solace was it, so
To smooth her hair aside, and show,
Pale as a pearl shed on some flake
Of snow, her ear; to touch and take
Its ornament of filigree,
And never win therewith to see
One kindled change in any place
Of tender feeling on her face!
How sorely earned a right was this
To know the tender mysteries
Of her apparel, intricate
In all its fragrant mazes, late
So pure a marvel of sweet guile
Enamouring long his heart; the while
Around him, dwindling less and less
The faint blown fragrance of her dress,
Seemed like some thinnest part of all
Her spirit fading past recall!
To smooth her hair aside, and show,
Pale as a pearl shed on some flake
Of snow, her ear; to touch and take
Its ornament of filigree,
And never win therewith to see
One kindled change in any place
Of tender feeling on her face!
How sorely earned a right was this
To know the tender mysteries
Of her apparel, intricate
In all its fragrant mazes, late
228
Enamouring long his heart; the while
Around him, dwindling less and less
The faint blown fragrance of her dress,
Seemed like some thinnest part of all
Her spirit fading past recall!
O for some long and bitter space,
Weeping beside her in that place,
I ween, not otherwise he sought
To fill his heart, but with sad thought
And fantasy of grief like this,
Feeding the fountainous abyss
Of tears.
Weeping beside her in that place,
I ween, not otherwise he sought
To fill his heart, but with sad thought
And fantasy of grief like this,
Feeding the fountainous abyss
Of tears.
—And like some watery blast,
Brought from the whole warm west and cast
Upon the rotting summer woods,
That sweeps with constant rage of floods
Down all the wild and rainy way
The undergrowth of many a day,
And mighty wounded limbs of trees
Torn from them writhing, and, with ease,
The timid multitude of leaves
Falling with every sigh that heaves
The trembling forest; and, at length,
Sated in all its tyrant strength
With ruin of the beauteous year,
Leaves the whole forest still and drear
With tall trees leafless letting through
The skies of winter calm and blue:
—So was that torrent of his tears
From all the heaped-up source of years
And gushing springs of thought within:
It washed away much love and sin,
Yea, from the deep grounds of his heart,
And left him like a man apart,
Henceforth, from all man's fitful fate
Of stormy feelings passionate.
Brought from the whole warm west and cast
Upon the rotting summer woods,
That sweeps with constant rage of floods
Down all the wild and rainy way
The undergrowth of many a day,
And mighty wounded limbs of trees
Torn from them writhing, and, with ease,
The timid multitude of leaves
229
The trembling forest; and, at length,
Sated in all its tyrant strength
With ruin of the beauteous year,
Leaves the whole forest still and drear
With tall trees leafless letting through
The skies of winter calm and blue:
—So was that torrent of his tears
From all the heaped-up source of years
And gushing springs of thought within:
It washed away much love and sin,
Yea, from the deep grounds of his heart,
And left him like a man apart,
Henceforth, from all man's fitful fate
Of stormy feelings passionate.
The grey cold sadness of his eyes
Was very like the winter skies;
And now that all the tears were past
He rose; and felt some peace at last,
To think that love had surely done
His worst there, and would even shun
That heart of his for evermore,
Leaving the precious dust it bore
In every tortured place of thought,
Leaving the tarnished treasure brought
Through bitter paths of memory;
And that no future could deny,
Through any new uncertain fate,
These things he held in such sweet state
Of memory—eternal so,
This passionate past of joy and woe.
Was very like the winter skies;
And now that all the tears were past
He rose; and felt some peace at last,
To think that love had surely done
His worst there, and would even shun
That heart of his for evermore,
230
In every tortured place of thought,
Leaving the tarnished treasure brought
Through bitter paths of memory;
And that no future could deny,
Through any new uncertain fate,
These things he held in such sweet state
Of memory—eternal so,
This passionate past of joy and woe.
There, as he found her day by day,
Her beauty did not pass away;
But Death seemed tenderly to touch
Her cheek, quite slow to wither much
Her tender hue; quite fain to spare
The semblance of her spirit fair
In her face fading flowerwise.
Her beauty did not pass away;
But Death seemed tenderly to touch
Her cheek, quite slow to wither much
Her tender hue; quite fain to spare
The semblance of her spirit fair
In her face fading flowerwise.
And, when, from looking on her eyes
He could not stay sometimes his love,
But in some tremulous way did move
One of the fringed and perfect rims,
There seemed not such a death as dims
Even the innermost frailest hue
Of living; but still, looking through
Pale glistening waters warm and deep,
Seemed all her soul there, as in sleep,
Or smiling through some fond deceit,
And seeing truly fair and sweet
The great blue heaven above her spread,
And the bright branches overhead,
And all the place indeed and him:
Yea, as though all were some fair whim!
He could not stay sometimes his love,
But in some tremulous way did move
One of the fringed and perfect rims,
There seemed not such a death as dims
231
Of living; but still, looking through
Pale glistening waters warm and deep,
Seemed all her soul there, as in sleep,
Or smiling through some fond deceit,
And seeing truly fair and sweet
The great blue heaven above her spread,
And the bright branches overhead,
And all the place indeed and him:
Yea, as though all were some fair whim!
And, often through the long golden noon
When the day's summer seemed to swoon,
And the rich sunlight far and wide
Transfigured and so glorified
The forest, passing to and fro
Like a blonde angel; and the glow
Grew wondrous and the place was thrilled,
And fervid purple flowers filled
More mightily the place with bloom,
—O then it seemed some blessèd doom
Of peace was still pronouncèd there;
Or some past mystery of prayer
Was hallowing the silence yet;
Yea, so that death might there forget,
Or be in wonder, tarrying long,
Or come quite changed there from the throng
Of flowers, in some perfumed way,
And with no envy of decay:
When the day's summer seemed to swoon,
And the rich sunlight far and wide
Transfigured and so glorified
The forest, passing to and fro
Like a blonde angel; and the glow
Grew wondrous and the place was thrilled,
And fervid purple flowers filled
More mightily the place with bloom,
—O then it seemed some blessèd doom
Of peace was still pronouncèd there;
Or some past mystery of prayer
232
Yea, so that death might there forget,
Or be in wonder, tarrying long,
Or come quite changed there from the throng
Of flowers, in some perfumed way,
And with no envy of decay:
O it was good to be there then
With her, and all so far from men!
With her, and all so far from men!
And sometimes, after he had wept,
With strange and holy feeling crept
A greater peace into his heart
Than came of any dream or art
Of thought,—a part of some long calm
Quite after death—a mystic balm
Of saving shed from some fair vase
In heaven, in such pure way as awes
Through the full sunshine everywhere:
O it was blessèd to be there!
With strange and holy feeling crept
A greater peace into his heart
Than came of any dream or art
Of thought,—a part of some long calm
Quite after death—a mystic balm
Of saving shed from some fair vase
In heaven, in such pure way as awes
Through the full sunshine everywhere:
O it was blessèd to be there!
Or sometimes all the heart fell faint
With inward thinking of the Saint;
And, dying some pure death of trance,
Or purified past all hindrance
Of each participating dross
Of sense, beheld His spirit cross
One of the gleaming ways and melt
Into the light; beheld or felt
And knew Him walking through the place,
And all his presence like a grace
Working that miracle of peace.
With inward thinking of the Saint;
233
Or purified past all hindrance
Of each participating dross
Of sense, beheld His spirit cross
One of the gleaming ways and melt
Into the light; beheld or felt
And knew Him walking through the place,
And all his presence like a grace
Working that miracle of peace.
—So Eliduc came to great ease
At length in all his soul within,
Like one whom all his mortal sin
God hath forgiven. Who can tell
How great a holiness and spell
Shall be and evermore abide
In the place where a saint hath died!
At length in all his soul within,
Like one whom all his mortal sin
God hath forgiven. Who can tell
How great a holiness and spell
Shall be and evermore abide
In the place where a saint hath died!
Then one day, through God's grace above,
—While he was looking on his love,
And thinking how it had been sweet
If before death they two could meet,
And for some little space so live
Without sin, God should quite forgive—
This miracle was wrought for him:
A little ermine swift and slim
And purely white with spirit eyes,
Out of the forest came; and thrice,
In a strange fearful way like light,
It ran across the bosom white,
Yea, and the upturned face as well
Of Guilliadun; and then it fell
Straight to the ground and would have fled;
But as it fell it lay there dead.
And while he wondered much thereat,
Another ermine, white as that,
Came from the wood seeking its mate;
Then, in a way disconsolate,
Finding it stark and with cold eye
Dazzled with death, a sharp sad cry
He gave, and ran back as he came,
And brought a strange bright flower like flame
Or redder than the hue of blood,
Gathered in some place in the wood,
And set this with an unknown care
In the mouth of the other there,
Upon the loosened languid tongue:
And, after this, it was not long
Before that great and simple charm
Worked potently against all harm,
And, by its virtue, did renew
In all the body the quick hue
And litheness of the life again;
And then those ermines were so fain
Of their fair life sportive and sweet,
That with the swiftness of their feet
Straightway they fled and entered quick
The forest mazes cumbered thick
With flowers.
—While he was looking on his love,
And thinking how it had been sweet
If before death they two could meet,
And for some little space so live
234
This miracle was wrought for him:
A little ermine swift and slim
And purely white with spirit eyes,
Out of the forest came; and thrice,
In a strange fearful way like light,
It ran across the bosom white,
Yea, and the upturned face as well
Of Guilliadun; and then it fell
Straight to the ground and would have fled;
But as it fell it lay there dead.
And while he wondered much thereat,
Another ermine, white as that,
Came from the wood seeking its mate;
Then, in a way disconsolate,
Finding it stark and with cold eye
Dazzled with death, a sharp sad cry
He gave, and ran back as he came,
And brought a strange bright flower like flame
Or redder than the hue of blood,
Gathered in some place in the wood,
And set this with an unknown care
In the mouth of the other there,
235
And, after this, it was not long
Before that great and simple charm
Worked potently against all harm,
And, by its virtue, did renew
In all the body the quick hue
And litheness of the life again;
And then those ermines were so fain
Of their fair life sportive and sweet,
That with the swiftness of their feet
Straightway they fled and entered quick
The forest mazes cumbered thick
With flowers.
—Eager at this sight
Was Eliduc, to try what might
There yet were in that wondrous spell:
Nor was he doubtful, feeling well
Some holy purpose in the thing,
Above his fond imagining;
And so he found without delay
The fallen flower, where it lay
Redder indeed than any flame;
And, praying well in Jesu's name,
He wrought the charm as he had seen.
And as that flower touched between
The deathless lips of Guilliadun,
It broke the mystery of her swoon,
And let her open blithe and wide
Her eyes from which no thought had died,
And gave her mastery of her breast
To wake out of their fit of rest
The fitful happy tides of breath;
All through her body, which no death
Had sullied nor availed to chill
Went many times the blush and thrill
Of pleasant living; and, at length,
Her spirit, summoned by the strength
Of all the charmed and yearning gaze
Of her real love, through many a maze
Of half-sighs faltering, was brought,
From bodiless abodes of thought,
Back to the perfect summer light,
To flush her whole face with delight,
Finding each kiss of love there still.
Was Eliduc, to try what might
There yet were in that wondrous spell:
Nor was he doubtful, feeling well
Some holy purpose in the thing,
Above his fond imagining;
And so he found without delay
The fallen flower, where it lay
Redder indeed than any flame;
And, praying well in Jesu's name,
236
And as that flower touched between
The deathless lips of Guilliadun,
It broke the mystery of her swoon,
And let her open blithe and wide
Her eyes from which no thought had died,
And gave her mastery of her breast
To wake out of their fit of rest
The fitful happy tides of breath;
All through her body, which no death
Had sullied nor availed to chill
Went many times the blush and thrill
Of pleasant living; and, at length,
Her spirit, summoned by the strength
Of all the charmed and yearning gaze
Of her real love, through many a maze
Of half-sighs faltering, was brought,
From bodiless abodes of thought,
Back to the perfect summer light,
To flush her whole face with delight,
Finding each kiss of love there still.
O what like love can cure the ill
Of love? That moment overthrew
All timorous thinking; and they knew
Henceforth for ill no sort of name
But Death; for all the world became
Their own; and trivial seemed all fear,
And light all other things to bear,
While they could each the other find
In any place of life, and bind
Their souls together in such wise.
237
All timorous thinking; and they knew
Henceforth for ill no sort of name
But Death; for all the world became
Their own; and trivial seemed all fear,
And light all other things to bear,
While they could each the other find
In any place of life, and bind
Their souls together in such wise.
And so, beneath those summer skies,
Full of their hearts, that did begin
Most overflowingly within
A fresh fertility of bliss;
—Delayed I think by many a kiss,
And ofttimes by such fervid tide
Within their hearts as would abide
No long restraint indeed or loss
Of perfect interchange,—across
The flowering forest paths they came,
In all this rapture without name;
And tenderly their steps would cling
To each delicious wandering;
And many a soft delay they found,
Where with new smiles the forest ground
Lured them to press its printless soils
Of yielding mosses; or where coils
Of festal flowers held their feet,
Or rose up fairly to entreat
And half compel them to abide,
Would not be alway thrust aside.
Full of their hearts, that did begin
Most overflowingly within
A fresh fertility of bliss;
—Delayed I think by many a kiss,
And ofttimes by such fervid tide
Within their hearts as would abide
No long restraint indeed or loss
Of perfect interchange,—across
The flowering forest paths they came,
In all this rapture without name;
And tenderly their steps would cling
To each delicious wandering;
238
Where with new smiles the forest ground
Lured them to press its printless soils
Of yielding mosses; or where coils
Of festal flowers held their feet,
Or rose up fairly to entreat
And half compel them to abide,
Would not be alway thrust aside.
And they—scarce in a haste were they:
Lo, now I leave them on the way.
Lo, now I leave them on the way.
Alas, for here I have to tell
Of all the sickness that befell
Unto a lady worth all love:
Surely there was none fair above
That lady Eliduc called wife,
None fitter for one's love in life;
And now that she is gone, I say,
Even from all this life away,
And with her love and holiness
Saved from that time of her distress
For ever,—as it came to pass—
Who shall be like her now alas?
Of all the sickness that befell
Unto a lady worth all love:
Surely there was none fair above
That lady Eliduc called wife,
None fitter for one's love in life;
And now that she is gone, I say,
Even from all this life away,
And with her love and holiness
239
For ever,—as it came to pass—
Who shall be like her now alas?
O in the early day when she
Was left, but first not utterly,
But with a false fair thought of joy
And hope, bright seeming, to destroy
The burning canker of despair,—
Her heart made promise to forbear,
Indeed, from any bitter grief
Or doubt of fate, and took relief
In golden seeming of the sweet
Fair days that brought the future fleet.
Was left, but first not utterly,
But with a false fair thought of joy
And hope, bright seeming, to destroy
The burning canker of despair,—
Her heart made promise to forbear,
Indeed, from any bitter grief
Or doubt of fate, and took relief
In golden seeming of the sweet
Fair days that brought the future fleet.
And in that chamber, where she dwelt
Most with the thought of him, she felt
—O many a tender ecstasy,
In lonely noontime when the sea
Glowed and made music from afar,
Or in the twilight when the star
Of Venus sweet came out to rule
The dreams and fancies beautiful
Of lovers; and if any sight
Or time or thing gave her delight,
Yea, if the golden time or dim
She loved, it was because of him.
And when,—amid the changeful round
Of deeds wherein her fancy found
Some consolation or pastime,
Through precious toil or chanted rhyme
Of song, that many an hour made full
Of solace,—in delicious lull
His voice would reach her, and the tide
Of the soft parting words would glide
Through the calm space of thoughts and sighs
Her heart was,—she would dearly prize
That moment:
Most with the thought of him, she felt
—O many a tender ecstasy,
In lonely noontime when the sea
Glowed and made music from afar,
Or in the twilight when the star
Of Venus sweet came out to rule
The dreams and fancies beautiful
240
Or time or thing gave her delight,
Yea, if the golden time or dim
She loved, it was because of him.
And when,—amid the changeful round
Of deeds wherein her fancy found
Some consolation or pastime,
Through precious toil or chanted rhyme
Of song, that many an hour made full
Of solace,—in delicious lull
His voice would reach her, and the tide
Of the soft parting words would glide
Through the calm space of thoughts and sighs
Her heart was,—she would dearly prize
That moment:
And she had no fear
That he—the only one she loved—
Could be of any other moved
To real forgetting. Many a way
She found to keep her heart half gay,
And pleased with every wanton thought
The hope or memory of him brought.
Then there was ever and again
Upon her lips the happy stain
His kiss had left there like a touch
Of flowers,—a little thing, not much
In telling, but indeed a charm
Quite potent to keep off the harm
Of many a doubt and bitter fret
Of sorrow, yea, to soothe her yet.
That he—the only one she loved—
Could be of any other moved
To real forgetting. Many a way
She found to keep her heart half gay,
And pleased with every wanton thought
The hope or memory of him brought.
Then there was ever and again
241
His kiss had left there like a touch
Of flowers,—a little thing, not much
In telling, but indeed a charm
Quite potent to keep off the harm
Of many a doubt and bitter fret
Of sorrow, yea, to soothe her yet.
But in some little while, despite
Her joyous will and the thoughts bright,
That ever like a little rill
Of tender laughter sought to fill
Serenely all the quiet day,—
But in some little while, I say,
Her inward love failed not to start
Oft in such trouble at her heart,
Suffusing with such purple glow
Her bosom emulous of the snow
For peace and whiteness, that she learned
Almost with trembling how she yearned
To have him back, e'en but to speak
Some mightier word than all words weak
Her tenderness had found before.
Her joyous will and the thoughts bright,
That ever like a little rill
Of tender laughter sought to fill
Serenely all the quiet day,—
But in some little while, I say,
Her inward love failed not to start
Oft in such trouble at her heart,
Suffusing with such purple glow
Her bosom emulous of the snow
For peace and whiteness, that she learned
Almost with trembling how she yearned
To have him back, e'en but to speak
Some mightier word than all words weak
Her tenderness had found before.
242
Then when, a day long waited for,
She held him in her arms, and gazed
Upon the face her heart so praised,
And saw a strange new shadow there;
And when she felt his voice forbear
From touching many a wonted tone
Whose meaning was best loved and known;
And, wondering, she must confess
Now wholly foiled and powerless
Each tender magic she could make,
That, all about her, used to take
His looks, in many a guiltless snare
Her fond inventing would prepare,
—That day, when such a thing she found,
Her heart took a great bitter wound
Of doubt and poisoned thought within.
She held him in her arms, and gazed
Upon the face her heart so praised,
And saw a strange new shadow there;
And when she felt his voice forbear
From touching many a wonted tone
Whose meaning was best loved and known;
And, wondering, she must confess
Now wholly foiled and powerless
Each tender magic she could make,
That, all about her, used to take
His looks, in many a guiltless snare
Her fond inventing would prepare,
—That day, when such a thing she found,
Her heart took a great bitter wound
Of doubt and poisoned thought within.
Yea, after that, she did begin
—O through the dreary ways untold
Of sorrow, secret, unconsoled—
To fall away from all her place
In that fair heaven of love and grace
Which she had so long held her own,
Whose precious state had even grown
The very custom of her life;
Yea, spite of all the hidden strife
Her heart in all its meekness made,
She must behold now change and fade
Away from her that gilded light
Of the known love that made so bright
Her life around her; she must miss
That air which seemed to hold a kiss
Dwelling about her evermore,
That mute look seeming to adore
Her very presence everywhere.
—O through the dreary ways untold
Of sorrow, secret, unconsoled—
To fall away from all her place
In that fair heaven of love and grace
243
Whose precious state had even grown
The very custom of her life;
Yea, spite of all the hidden strife
Her heart in all its meekness made,
She must behold now change and fade
Away from her that gilded light
Of the known love that made so bright
Her life around her; she must miss
That air which seemed to hold a kiss
Dwelling about her evermore,
That mute look seeming to adore
Her very presence everywhere.
Maybe, she could not quite despair
At first, and with some clinging hope,
Maybe, her fondness sought to cope
Against this hidden woe and strange
That did so desolate and change
Her husband's all belovèd look:
For very hard it was to brook
The sight of him, whom all men's eyes
Saw bearing secret miseries
Of thought, and heavy all the day
And weary of his former way,
—For her with whom had ever been
His heart, it was right hard, I ween,
To see this, and, in no hour dim,
Draw more than others nigh to him.
—Ah bitterly she learned the truth
That he could no more turn to her
And leave it to her hand to stir
The sadness from about his thought.
At first, and with some clinging hope,
Maybe, her fondness sought to cope
Against this hidden woe and strange
That did so desolate and change
Her husband's all belovèd look:
For very hard it was to brook
The sight of him, whom all men's eyes
Saw bearing secret miseries
244
And weary of his former way,
—For her with whom had ever been
His heart, it was right hard, I ween,
To see this, and, in no hour dim,
Draw more than others nigh to him.
—Ah bitterly she learned the truth
That he could no more turn to her
And leave it to her hand to stir
The sadness from about his thought.
Then she found how for her he wrought
A very sad and cruel guile,
A piteous semblance of a smile,
As though he deemed she should not know
How she was served with feigning now.
Alas, he marked not her sweet ways,
And grieved that charmer of his days!
A very sad and cruel guile,
A piteous semblance of a smile,
As though he deemed she should not know
How she was served with feigning now.
Alas, he marked not her sweet ways,
And grieved that charmer of his days!
But when she quite believed, at last,
She was from all sweet love outcast,
A quick disease and mortal sort
Of sorrow took her, to make short
The bitter time she could not bear.
She was from all sweet love outcast,
A quick disease and mortal sort
Of sorrow took her, to make short
245
Her golden chamber grew most drear;
And now, about her so forlorn,
The sweetest things there seemed to mourn,
And all the spells of pleasantness
Were changed to working her distress;
Her precious playthings seemed to reach
For her a plaintive kind of speech,
Holding a language all day long
Together, like a funeral song;
And from her lute there broke a sigh,
Or like a sob when none was nigh,
Appalling her, as though she heard
Her own voice uttering some great word
That broke her life's sharp chord of ill:
And now, about her so forlorn,
The sweetest things there seemed to mourn,
And all the spells of pleasantness
Were changed to working her distress;
Her precious playthings seemed to reach
For her a plaintive kind of speech,
Holding a language all day long
Together, like a funeral song;
And from her lute there broke a sigh,
Or like a sob when none was nigh,
Appalling her, as though she heard
Her own voice uttering some great word
That broke her life's sharp chord of ill:
There, more and more, she felt the chill
Of fate's mysterious encroach;
And shuddered now from all approach
Of the rough outward stir of life;
Her eyes made tremulous weak strife
With the once fair familiar light
Of day, that now seemed over-bright,
With never any tempered gleam
Fit for the sadness of her dream;
At length, when twilight made that room
Most dim, there seemed no place of gloom
So dim as the dim place she sought
To hide the shadow of her thought.
Of fate's mysterious encroach;
And shuddered now from all approach
Of the rough outward stir of life;
Her eyes made tremulous weak strife
With the once fair familiar light
246
With never any tempered gleam
Fit for the sadness of her dream;
At length, when twilight made that room
Most dim, there seemed no place of gloom
So dim as the dim place she sought
To hide the shadow of her thought.
And Eliduc was far away,
No man knew where or till what day
He tarried, but alas, all vain
For her was now his face again:
Since she was nothing at his side,
What mattered it how soon she died?
No man knew where or till what day
He tarried, but alas, all vain
For her was now his face again:
Since she was nothing at his side,
What mattered it how soon she died?
For, now that all within her felt
So sure of change, and well nigh dwelt
With death already in her dreams,
To the most tender summer gleams,
The blue skies, and the sunniest sights
Of life—to these her heart held rights
No longer; but, without complaint,
Her dreams would bear her spirit faint
To sunless places, far away
In some wild forest, where the gray
And ancient leaves, each like a whole
Dead shrivelled remnant of a soul
Withered and shrunk away at last
From every part of a life past,
Their nameless sort of burial found,
In shifting graves upon the ground,
Or frittered the long hours of death
Away with every changeful breath
That swept them from their shallow tomb.
So sure of change, and well nigh dwelt
With death already in her dreams,
To the most tender summer gleams,
The blue skies, and the sunniest sights
Of life—to these her heart held rights
No longer; but, without complaint,
Her dreams would bear her spirit faint
247
In some wild forest, where the gray
And ancient leaves, each like a whole
Dead shrivelled remnant of a soul
Withered and shrunk away at last
From every part of a life past,
Their nameless sort of burial found,
In shifting graves upon the ground,
Or frittered the long hours of death
Away with every changeful breath
That swept them from their shallow tomb.
So did her soul forefeel some doom
Grey cold and unremembering,
And more and more seemed hovering
On borders where the dim mists dwell,
Nigh within feeling of the spell.
And ever weaker grew the thread
That held her from among the dead,
And could recall her painfully
To any bleeding memory
Of the defrauded life she left.
Grey cold and unremembering,
And more and more seemed hovering
On borders where the dim mists dwell,
Nigh within feeling of the spell.
And ever weaker grew the thread
That held her from among the dead,
And could recall her painfully
To any bleeding memory
Of the defrauded life she left.
248
Truly, with her, sorrow had reft,
Quicker than any ailment can,
The right of that short summer span
Her life from her; and, in quick space,
The conscious fading of her face
Foreswore its emulous coloured sign:
Yea, quickly, as the flower most fine
Sudden disheartened may forsake
And shed its purple flake by flake
In one short day, till with pale head
It stands disrobed as do the dead.
Quicker than any ailment can,
The right of that short summer span
Her life from her; and, in quick space,
The conscious fading of her face
Foreswore its emulous coloured sign:
Yea, quickly, as the flower most fine
Sudden disheartened may forsake
And shed its purple flake by flake
In one short day, till with pale head
It stands disrobed as do the dead.
At length, one day, some seeking her
Entered, and found her not astir;
And knew death's touches everywhere
And, at once, all that chamber fair
Deflowered and quite transformed with death;
For gone was the most magic breath,
And all the eloquent sights were mute:
Only, as though upon her lute
A hand smote passing, was there still
In all the silence some sad thrill
Of the last sobbing musical
Of broken chords. There, after all,
They felt fulfilled the inward thought
Which daily in their hearts had taught
Such shadowy fear; and, where they now
Beheld her sitting, need—I trow—
Was small for one to touch her hand,
Or e'en her lips, to understand
The truth of the pale change they kept.
Entered, and found her not astir;
And knew death's touches everywhere
And, at once, all that chamber fair
Deflowered and quite transformed with death;
For gone was the most magic breath,
And all the eloquent sights were mute:
Only, as though upon her lute
A hand smote passing, was there still
In all the silence some sad thrill
249
Of broken chords. There, after all,
They felt fulfilled the inward thought
Which daily in their hearts had taught
Such shadowy fear; and, where they now
Beheld her sitting, need—I trow—
Was small for one to touch her hand,
Or e'en her lips, to understand
The truth of the pale change they kept.
Then surely each one of them wept
That Eliduc was still away:
And, now,—alas, for him I say;
For, surely, when he doth return
Sir Eliduc shall have to mourn.
That Eliduc was still away:
And, now,—alas, for him I say;
For, surely, when he doth return
Sir Eliduc shall have to mourn.
250
Has summer come without the rose,
Or left the bird behind?
Is the blue changed above thee,
O world? or am I blind!
Will you change every flower that grows,
Or only change this spot—
Where she who said, I love thee,
Now says I love thee not?
Or left the bird behind?
Is the blue changed above thee,
O world? or am I blind!
Will you change every flower that grows,
Or only change this spot—
Where she who said, I love thee,
Now says I love thee not?
The skies seemed true above thee;
The rose true on the tree;
The bird seemed true the summer through;
But all proved false to me:
World, is there one good thing in you—
Life, love, or death—or what?
Since lips that sang I love thee
Have said I love thee not?
The rose true on the tree;
The bird seemed true the summer through;
But all proved false to me:
World, is there one good thing in you—
Life, love, or death—or what?
Since lips that sang I love thee
Have said I love thee not?
I think the sun's kiss will scarce fall
Into one flower's gold cup;
I think the bird will miss me,
And give the summer up:
O sweet place, desolate in tall
Wild grass, have you forgot
How her lips loved to kiss me,
Now that they kiss me not?
Into one flower's gold cup;
I think the bird will miss me,
And give the summer up:
O sweet place, desolate in tall
Wild grass, have you forgot
How her lips loved to kiss me,
Now that they kiss me not?
Be false or fair above me;
Come back with any face
Summer; do I care what you do?
You cannot change one place—
The grass, the leaves, the earth, the dew—
The grave I make the spot,
Here where she used to love me,
Here where she loves me not.
Come back with any face
Summer; do I care what you do?
You cannot change one place—
The grass, the leaves, the earth, the dew—
The grave I make the spot,
Here where she used to love me,
Here where she loves me not.
| Lays of France | |