The Poetical Works of John Payne Definitive Edition in Two Volumes |
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| IV. | IV.SIR WINFRITH. |
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 | The Poetical Works of John Payne |  |
IV.SIR WINFRITH.
I.
THE woodlarks welcome the risen day;
The ringdoves croon in the cool wood-way;
The meads are telling the tale of May.
The ringdoves croon in the cool wood-way;
The meads are telling the tale of May.
Sir Winfrith fares through the forest wide;
The glad Spring greets him on every side;
The brakes are ablaze with the blossom-tide.
The glad Spring greets him on every side;
The brakes are ablaze with the blossom-tide.
The glades, as he rideth, with glee-notes ring;
The cuckoos call him, the woodlarks sing,
“Ah, whither away, Sir Son of the King?”
The cuckoos call him, the woodlarks sing,
“Ah, whither away, Sir Son of the King?”
“Ah, whither so sadly?” The throstles cry.
“Who ever the son of a king heard sigh,
When the sun is aloft in the love-month's sky
“Who ever the son of a king heard sigh,
When the sun is aloft in the love-month's sky
And the larks are a-lilt in the blue above?”
“Alack for the lurdane,” rejoins the dove,
“Who fareth alone for default of love,
“Alack for the lurdane,” rejoins the dove,
“Who fareth alone for default of love,
Who goeth a-gloom in the gladsome day,
Who's dumb for desire in the merry May,
When all things else in the world are gay?
Who's dumb for desire in the merry May,
When all things else in the world are gay?
Who ever heard tell of the son of a king,
That sitteth forlorn in the flowered Spring,
When the brakes are a-bloom and the birds do sing?”
That sitteth forlorn in the flowered Spring,
When the brakes are a-bloom and the birds do sing?”
81
The king's son rideth; he heareth nought:
His brows are bound with the thorns of thought;
He fareth alone, unsquired, unsought.
His brows are bound with the thorns of thought;
He fareth alone, unsquired, unsought.
He rideth sans huntsman or merry moot;
His eyes are heedless, his lips are mute;
He's deaf to the beck of the blackbird's flute;
His eyes are heedless, his lips are mute;
He's deaf to the beck of the blackbird's flute;
He lendeth no ear to the linnet's lyre;
His soul is aflame with a seething fire;
His heart is heavy for wandesire.
His soul is aflame with a seething fire;
His heart is heavy for wandesire.
But hark! what hushes the throstle's throat?
What wild sweet sound in the air's afloat,
That all-to muteth the wild merle's note?
What wild sweet sound in the air's afloat,
That all-to muteth the wild merle's note?
A surge of song through the flowered trees,
A flood of fair tones and melodies,
That fareth a-wing on the wayward breeze;
A flood of fair tones and melodies,
That fareth a-wing on the wayward breeze;
A surge of singing so sweet and high,
It floodeth the forest far and nigh,
It beareth the soul to the bovemost sky.
It floodeth the forest far and nigh,
It beareth the soul to the bovemost sky.
It stirreth the spright with its blithesome breath;
It filleth the heart with hope and faith,
With love undeeming of life and death.
It filleth the heart with hope and faith,
With love undeeming of life and death.
The sweet sounds waken Sir Winfrith's ear;
His sense they deluge, his dreams they stir;
He stayeth his steed anon to hear.
His sense they deluge, his dreams they stir;
He stayeth his steed anon to hear.
So still he sitteth that who alone
Had lighted on him thus stirless grown
Had held him a man on a steed of stone.
Had lighted on him thus stirless grown
Had held him a man on a steed of stone.
Awhile he sitteth, till all around
The magic music hath weft and wound
His heart with its viewless webs of sound:
The magic music hath weft and wound
His heart with its viewless webs of sound:
82
Then, fenceless drawn by his longing's force,
He lighteth down from his careless course
And tethereth thereanigh his horse.
He lighteth down from his careless course
And tethereth thereanigh his horse.
Through thorn and thicket, through bog and brake,
'Twixt doubt and deeming, 'twixt sleep and wake,
He fareth on for that sweet song's sake.
'Twixt doubt and deeming, 'twixt sleep and wake,
He fareth on for that sweet song's sake.
Down sinketh the sun in the dark'ning West
And still Sir Winfrith, with panting breast,
Unfeared, ensueth that fleeting quest:
And still Sir Winfrith, with panting breast,
Unfeared, ensueth that fleeting quest:
And still the singing before him flees,
Now farther borne by the faithless breeze,
Now nearer turning among the trees.
Now farther borne by the faithless breeze,
Now nearer turning among the trees.
Good heart, Sir Winfrith! The goal is nigh.
Good heart to the chase! The tree-tops high
Show thinlier ever against the sky.
Good heart to the chase! The tree-tops high
Show thinlier ever against the sky.
And lo! where he comes, in the sunset hour,
To a glade in the midmost forest bower,
And there in the midst a darkling tower.
To a glade in the midmost forest bower,
And there in the midst a darkling tower.
No cresset flares from the turret's height;
No beacon beckons with lovesome light;
No window welcomes the wandering knight:
No beacon beckons with lovesome light;
No window welcomes the wandering knight:
Nay, there all darkling the tower doth stand,
The finger like of a giant hand
Uplift to threaten the heavenly land.
The finger like of a giant hand
Uplift to threaten the heavenly land.
But lo! from the top, like a golden bell,
The tones of the voice ineffable
In refluent melodies wane and swell.
The tones of the voice ineffable
In refluent melodies wane and swell.
Blithe is Sir Winfrith; he thinketh fast
The bird and the music to have at last;
He holdeth the pain and the labour past.
The bird and the music to have at last;
He holdeth the pain and the labour past.
83
But, though he seeketh on all sides four,
No sign he seeth of gate or door,
Nor port nor postern, behind, before,
No sign he seeth of gate or door,
Nor port nor postern, behind, before,
Nor wicket nor window open-eyed.
Blank is the bastion's every side,
Nought but the walls and the forest wide.
Blank is the bastion's every side,
Nought but the walls and the forest wide.
His horn he windeth both loud and high;
The wild wood echoes it far and nigh:
Except the echo there's no reply.
The wild wood echoes it far and nigh:
Except the echo there's no reply.
But still that voice from the turret tall
In waves of music doth rise and fall,
With maddening melody flooding all.
In waves of music doth rise and fall,
With maddening melody flooding all.
Sad is Sir Winfrith: the bird is there;
But built is its nest in the topmost air;
'Tis far from his hand as heaven's stair.
But built is its nest in the topmost air;
'Tis far from his hand as heaven's stair.
The music holds him; he may not flee;
And something warns him to wait and see;
He wakes and watches behind yon tree.
And something warns him to wait and see;
He wakes and watches behind yon tree.
II.
The sun dips under and all about
The tents of the moon a rabble-rout
Of clouds is camping; no star shines out.
The tents of the moon a rabble-rout
Of clouds is camping; no star shines out.
The birds are silent both far and nigh;
The breeze in the boughs hath ceased to sigh;
The black night blindeth the earth and sky.
The breeze in the boughs hath ceased to sigh;
The black night blindeth the earth and sky.
The voice is dumb with the vanished light,
The music mute for the fallen night;
Dead darkness holdeth the turret's height.
The music mute for the fallen night;
Dead darkness holdeth the turret's height.
84
But lo! in the midnight mirk and drear
A shudder runs through the air of fear,
A sense of somewhat of evil near.
A shudder runs through the air of fear,
A sense of somewhat of evil near.
The live night throbs with the thrill of dread
That stirs in the heart whose blood runs red
At sight and sense of the risen dead.
That stirs in the heart whose blood runs red
At sight and sense of the risen dead.
And sudden he feels, though his eyes see nought,
There pass him by, with the speed of thought,
A thing as swift as the thin fire-flaught;
There pass him by, with the speed of thought,
A thing as swift as the thin fire-flaught;
A wraith from the middle darkness' womb,
Of curses compound and death and doom:
And down by the tower-foot there rends the gloom
Of curses compound and death and doom:
And down by the tower-foot there rends the gloom
A voice like an osprey's shriek a-scare,
A cry that shrills through the shrivelled air;
“Rapunzel! Minion! Down with thy hair!”
A cry that shrills through the shrivelled air;
“Rapunzel! Minion! Down with thy hair!”
There beams at the tower-top something bright
And down by the wall, through the startled night,
There slides what himseems is a ladder of light;
And down by the wall, through the startled night,
There slides what himseems is a ladder of light;
A glittering fleece of golden hair,
From top to tower-foot it floateth there;
It hangs from the height like a shining stair.
From top to tower-foot it floateth there;
It hangs from the height like a shining stair.
Some black beast-thing on the tress lays hold
And speeds to the top by that stair of gold:
Ah God! 'tis a wizened witch-wife old!
And speeds to the top by that stair of gold:
Ah God! 'tis a wizened witch-wife old!
A beldam, whose hands like bird-claws show,
With nose like a beak and eyes that glow
Like red-hot coals through her locks of snow.
With nose like a beak and eyes that glow
Like red-hot coals through her locks of snow.
She wins to the top: without a sound,
The fleece floats up, as a skein is wound;
In dusk and silence the night is drowned.
The fleece floats up, as a skein is wound;
In dusk and silence the night is drowned.
85
The gleam is gone from the turret's height;
Abideth nothing for sound or sight;
All dark and still as the still dark night.
Abideth nothing for sound or sight;
All dark and still as the still dark night.
Frozen with fear is Sir Winfrith's blood;
He knows the witch-wife that haunts the wood,
Who hateth all that is fair and good.
He knows the witch-wife that haunts the wood,
Who hateth all that is fair and good.
The glad day gleams on the Eastern hill;
The tower stands darkling and stern and still;
Sir Winfrith forth of the forest will.
The tower stands darkling and stern and still;
Sir Winfrith forth of the forest will.
Through thorn and thicket his last night's track
He follows; he springs on his horse's back;
He fares to his father's palace back.
He follows; he springs on his horse's back;
He fares to his father's palace back.
III.
Again on the morrow, with risen day,
Ere morning have done the mists away,
Again through the forest he takes his way.
Ere morning have done the mists away,
Again through the forest he takes his way.
He wins to the tower at the time of noon,
The hour when enchantments wane and swoon,
That work their most with the waxing moon.
The hour when enchantments wane and swoon,
That work their most with the waxing moon.
The tower stands darkling; on all sides four
He seeketh it round, as he sought before,
But no sign seeth of gate or door;
He seeketh it round, as he sought before,
But no sign seeth of gate or door;
Then stands and calls through the sunlit air,
“Rapunzel! Sweet one! Down with thy hair!”
And down, like a fleece, falls the golden stair.
“Rapunzel! Sweet one! Down with thy hair!”
And down, like a fleece, falls the golden stair.
There, full at his feet, is the shining stream,
A stairway wrought of the gold sun's beam,
A pathway of price in a fairy dream.
A stairway wrought of the gold sun's beam,
A pathway of price in a fairy dream.
86
The King's son grippeth the shimmering strand;
A tress he holdeth in either hand;
They rise and raise him at his command.
A tress he holdeth in either hand;
They rise and raise him at his command.
In less than a score of time to tell,
He wins to the topmost turret-cell;
He stands by the side of Rapunzel.
He wins to the topmost turret-cell;
He stands by the side of Rapunzel.
Before him standeth a maiden bright,
With eyes of heaven and locks of light;
Ne'er live man looked on a lovelier sight.
With eyes of heaven and locks of light;
Ne'er live man looked on a lovelier sight.
She gazes on him and he on her;
The Spring and love in them live and stir,
Youth's blood aflame with the blossomed year.
The Spring and love in them live and stir,
Youth's blood aflame with the blossomed year.
Love to love, longing to longing, call;
They kiss, in each other's arms they fall;
The night with its curtain covers all.
They kiss, in each other's arms they fall;
The night with its curtain covers all.
IV.
Once more, on the morrow, the morning sun,
Arising, ready its course to run,
Awakens from sleep the stout King's son.
Arising, ready its course to run,
Awakens from sleep the stout King's son.
He armeth him well against assail,
Himself and his steed from head to tail
In armour of proof of Milan mail.
Himself and his steed from head to tail
In armour of proof of Milan mail.
He giveth him out for bounden war
To wage to the death on the fierce wild boar
That haunteth the heart of the forest core.
To wage to the death on the fierce wild boar
That haunteth the heart of the forest core.
The mass of the hunter for him they sing
Who dareth alone a deathly thing,
Who setteth his life on the venturing.
Who dareth alone a deathly thing,
Who setteth his life on the venturing.
87
The cross in the chapel he hath adored;
The priest hath hallowed his broad bright sword,
Hath sacred it o'er with the sign of the Lord.
The priest hath hallowed his broad bright sword,
Hath sacred it o'er with the sign of the Lord.
A ladder of silk he hath letten make,
A ladder of proof, that may not break,
He hath letten twist for his true love's sake.
A ladder of proof, that may not break,
He hath letten twist for his true love's sake.
He hath bounden it on his saddle-bow;
With him is he minded to bear it, so
She win with it may from aloft alow.
With him is he minded to bear it, so
She win with it may from aloft alow.
But time hastes by and the hour grows late;
The sun hangs high in the noontide strait,
Ere forth he fareth the palace-gate.
The sun hangs high in the noontide strait,
Ere forth he fareth the palace-gate.
Through thorn and thicket again his way
He takes, till the land with the parting ray
Is all adream of the dying day.
He takes, till the land with the parting ray
Is all adream of the dying day.
To the midwood glade, with the darkling tower,
Where black on the blaze is the maiden's bower,
He wins at the wane of the sunset hour.
Where black on the blaze is the maiden's bower,
He wins at the wane of the sunset hour.
He lights, he calls to the maiden fair,
“Rapunzel! Dearest! Down with thy hair!”
And down to his feet floats the fairy stair.
“Rapunzel! Dearest! Down with thy hair!”
And down to his feet floats the fairy stair.
He grips on the tresses, he holds them well;
They bear him aloft to the turret-cell;
Alack! there finds he no Rapunzel.
They bear him aloft to the turret-cell;
Alack! there finds he no Rapunzel.
But there, in the damsel's stead, ah woe!
The witch-wife waiteth, with hair of snow,
With hands like talons and eyes aglow.
The witch-wife waiteth, with hair of snow,
With hands like talons and eyes aglow.
She falls on the knight with tooth and nail;
His weapons against her nought avail;
She claws for his heart through his shirt of mail.
His weapons against her nought avail;
She claws for his heart through his shirt of mail.
88
She clutches his heart with claws of steel;
Already his limbs the death-sweats feel;
Already his eyes the death-mists seal.
Already his limbs the death-sweats feel;
Already his eyes the death-mists seal.
His forces fail him; his heart bleeds sore;
His sense is swooning; he can no more:
Yet but a moment and all is o'er.
His sense is swooning; he can no more:
Yet but a moment and all is o'er.
But sudden the thought of the holy sign
There thrills through his heart like a levin-shine,
And gripping his blade by the steel so fine,
There thrills through his heart like a levin-shine,
And gripping his blade by the steel so fine,
He calleth aloud on the name of the Lord;
Then strikes at the witch with the cross of the sword
And dead she drops on the tower-foot sward.
Then strikes at the witch with the cross of the sword
And dead she drops on the tower-foot sward.
V.
Now blithe is Sir Winfrith, the son of the King;
He hath broughten him home his tenderling;
He hath wedded his bird with book and ring.
He hath broughten him home his tenderling;
He hath wedded his bird with book and ring.
He sitteth in joy and him beside,
There sitteth with him his lovesome bride;
No longer lonely he needs must ride;
There sitteth with him his lovesome bride;
No longer lonely he needs must ride;
No longer the linnets to him shall sing,
“Who ever heard tell of the son of a king,
That fareth forlorn in the sunny Spring?”
“Who ever heard tell of the son of a king,
That fareth forlorn in the sunny Spring?”
VI.
Still frowns on the forest the darkling tower;
But never again in the midnight hour
The walls with the flashing tresses flower;
But never again in the midnight hour
The walls with the flashing tresses flower;
And never again from the turret-cell
The voice of the viewless Rapunzel
Soars up to the sky like a golden bell.
The voice of the viewless Rapunzel
Soars up to the sky like a golden bell.
89
The place of magic is void and mute;
No sound is there, save the throstle's flute,
The nightingale's note and the howlet's hoot;
No sound is there, save the throstle's flute,
The nightingale's note and the howlet's hoot;
And never again, in the midnight-air,
The voice of the witch will the silence scare
With “Rapunzel! Minion! Down with thy hair!”
The voice of the witch will the silence scare
With “Rapunzel! Minion! Down with thy hair!”
| The Poetical Works of John Payne | |