 | The Vow of the Peacock, and Other Poems |  |
7
Years, years have past along
Since the sword, and since the song
Made alike the bright and bold—
What one wrought—the other told.
When the lady in her bower
Held her beauty's conscious power;
When the knight's wild life was spent
Less in castle than in tent;
When romance, excitement, strife,
Flung the picturesque o'er life.
Since the sword, and since the song
Made alike the bright and bold—
What one wrought—the other told.
When the lady in her bower
Held her beauty's conscious power;
When the knight's wild life was spent
Less in castle than in tent;
When romance, excitement, strife,
Flung the picturesque o'er life.
Lo, the past yields up an hour
To the painter's magic power—
Mastered into life and light,
Breathing beautiful and bright,—
One bright hour in glory dyed
Of the old chivalric pride.
To the painter's magic power—
Mastered into life and light,
Breathing beautiful and bright,—
One bright hour in glory dyed
Of the old chivalric pride.
8
With war-music round them poured,
With the sunshine on the sword,
With the battlemented towers,
Crimsoning in the morning hours,
Girdled by their southern clime,
Stand a group of olden time.
They are gathered,—wherefore now?
'Tis the Peacock's noble vow!
Vow that binds a knightly faith
Sure as love and strong as death.
With the sunshine on the sword,
With the battlemented towers,
Crimsoning in the morning hours,
Girdled by their southern clime,
Stand a group of olden time.
They are gathered,—wherefore now?
'Tis the Peacock's noble vow!
Vow that binds a knightly faith
Sure as love and strong as death.
Doth that kneeling bright-haired dame
Succour or protection claim?
Is she wronged, is she forsaken?
Wherefore must that vow be taken?
What wild tale of old romance
Haunteth that bright lady's glance?
What proud deed of coming fight
Bares the blade of yonder knight?
Dare I give the colours words,—
Ask their music from the chords?
Succour or protection claim?
Is she wronged, is she forsaken?
Wherefore must that vow be taken?
What wild tale of old romance
Haunteth that bright lady's glance?
9
Bares the blade of yonder knight?
Dare I give the colours words,—
Ask their music from the chords?
| The Vow of the Peacock, and Other Poems | |