Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems by the late Thomas Haynes Bayly; Edited by his Widow. With A Memoir of the Author. In Two Volumes |
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| SONGS
OF THE
DAYS OF CHIVALRY. |
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 | Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems |  |
263
SONGS OF THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY.
THE KNIGHT WITH THE AZURE PLUME.
I
Where is the knight with the azure plume,With his eye of light, and his cheek of bloom;
Whose arm seem'd made for the martial lance,
Yet whose foot was fam'd for the joyous dance?
A maiden sighs for that gay young knight:
Say, how he far'd in the distant fight.
II
Brave was the knight with the azure plume,Though he lov'd the jess'mine bower's perfume,
Though he shunn'd the hunter's wild pursuit,
To list to the lay of a lady's lute;
Though the sports of peace were his heart's delight,
Laurels he won in the distant fight.
III
Where is the knight with the azure plume?A maiden weeps o'er his trophied tomb.
That tomb she has raised with mournful care,
But the form of her lover is not there!
Cold on the plain lies the noble Knight,
In the arms he wore in the distant fight.
264
MY FATHER'S SWORD.
I
My father's sword upon the wallHas slumber'd since his death;
Oh, give it me, for now 'tis time
To throw away the sheath.
Too long I've been content to wear
The laurels that he won;
Give me the sword—and it shall gain
New laurels for his son!
II
My father's sword! Oh, blame me not,Though tears bedew the steel;
Though nerveless now may fall my arm,
It is not fear I feel.
I weep to think how oft his hand
Hath laid aside that sword,
While he hath stoop'd to kiss my brow,
And breathe some gentle word.
III
My father's sword!—this silken knotMy own dear mother wove.
Take hence the weapon—let it grace
The halls she used to love.
Give me another,—if my prayer
In after years be heard—
It shall not be unfit to hang
Beside my father's sword.
265
A LIGHT FROM HER CASEMENT BEAMS.
I
A light from her casement beams,'Tis the only light in the tower!
What keeps her still from the land of dreams?
'Tis past the midnight hour.
To that lamp I am meant to steer,
'Tis a lure that love hath taught her;
And now she is leaning forth to hear
My oars dip in the water!
II
I come, sweet maid, I come!You shall have no cause to doubt me,
For now it is plain, in your princely home,
You are not quite blest without me.
Can so poor a youth be dear
To so proud a baron's daughter?
Then hence with me, and none shall hear
Our oars dip in the water!
HE WILL BE THERE!
I
He will be there!On his white Arab steed, in his bright suit of mail,
He will poise the good lance, never yet known to fail.
He will be there!
Oh, the gauntlet he'll seize that the proudest throw down,
And on conquerors conquer'd he'll raise his renown.
He will be there!
266
II
I will be there!The gem that I gave on his helmet will shine,
And the name that he breathes in the fight will be mine.
I will be there!
A thousand bright eyes my love's triumph will see,
My love 'mid ten thousand would single out me.
I will be there!
LOOK!—DO YOU SEE NO HORSEMAN THERE?
I
Look!—do you see no horseman there?Hark!—do you hear no drum?
Look out, look out—I'll not despair—
Come—oh my own love—come!
Look from the battlement, look again,
Some straggler soon you'll see:
You're weary with the search, 'tis plain,
Resign the task to me!
Look!—do you see no horseman there?
Hark!—do you hear no drum?
Look out, look out—I'll not despair—
Come, oh my own love, come!
II
Why do you weep? I shed no tear,What tho' so long we wait,
Oh! do not breathe a sound of fear
To greet him at the gate.
I know you think he'll not return,
Dare not to speak your dread!
Or when he comes, my lord will learn
That his poor bride is dead.
Look!—do you see no horseman there?
Hark!—do you hear no drum?
Look out, look out—I'll not despair—
Come, oh my own love, come!
267
OH! DARK-EYED MAID OF PALESTINE.
I
Oh, dark-eyed maid of Palestine,Though thou hast set me free,
Mistake me not—I cannot breathe
Affection's vow to thee!
The love that I can never feel
My lip would scorn to feign,
Then summon forth thy father's guard,
And give me back my chain.
II
Far in a land thou ne'er wilt view,I left a gentle bride;
I know that in my plighted vow
Her fond heart will confide;
She may be told that far away
Her captive love was slain,
She shall not hear that I was false,
Then give me back my chain.
III
I see a tear steal o'er thy cheek—My sentence I await;
But now thy trembling finger points
To yonder open gate!
Dark maid of Palestine, I seek
My plighted bride again,
And when we cease to pray for thee,
Oh! give me my chain again.
268
AH! WHO CAN SAY?
I
Throw down the lute and seize the lance,This is no time for song and dance;
Go quench the festive lamps again;
And check the bard's too joyous strain!
At dawn of day they'll ride away—
When to return—ah! who can say?
II
How full of change, and full of strifeMust be the warrior's roving life!
But danger gives his heart relief—
He hath no time to nourish grief.
At dawn of day, they'll ride away—
When to return—ah! who can say?
III
But woman has a dreary fate—He goes—she lingers at the gate—
And where he left her, lives to miss
All that once made that life seem bliss!
At dawn of day they'll ride away—
When to return—ah! who can say?
| Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems | |