 | Contributions to a Ballad History of England and the States Sprung from Her |  |
36
THE WATCH OF THE CRUSADES.
1099.
She sits in the eastern turret
Of that castle rugged and grey,
And ever her watch is eastward kept,
Till the long day dies away.
Of that castle rugged and grey,
And ever her watch is eastward kept,
Till the long day dies away.
Till, behind her, dies the sunset,
And darkness the far view fills
That she looks across, from its English walls
To its circling English hills.
And darkness the far view fills
That she looks across, from its English walls
To its circling English hills.
Yet they rise unseen before her,
Those hills of her own green Kent,
For ever a far-off landscape here
Is with her, since first he went;
Those hills of her own green Kent,
For ever a far-off landscape here
Is with her, since first he went;
Since, the cross on his knightly shoulder,
And his vassals arrayed, O woe!
Lost, and, how long to be lost to her!
Years since, she saw him go.
And his vassals arrayed, O woe!
Lost, and, how long to be lost to her!
Years since, she saw him go.
And ever the eastmost turret
She climbs to, to look in vain
To the turn in the road that must show him first,
When he comes, if he comes again.
She climbs to, to look in vain
To the turn in the road that must show him first,
When he comes, if he comes again.
And there, from that eastward turret,
Her looks will roam and roam
Down the one grey road, from the broidery raised
That is worked to greet him home.
Her looks will roam and roam
Down the one grey road, from the broidery raised
That is worked to greet him home.
37
Her maids may whisper and chatter,
But, jest and laugh as they may,
She tries in vain to heed their mirth,
All lost to what they say.
But, jest and laugh as they may,
She tries in vain to heed their mirth,
All lost to what they say.
But most she loves to clamber
Up, up the steep winding stair,
To that grey still chamber, when no one,
No voice, and no laugh are there.
Up, up the steep winding stair,
To that grey still chamber, when no one,
No voice, and no laugh are there.
Then, then, in that grey still turret,
What sounds in her hushed ears ring!
What scenes of sorrow, and ever one form,
To her eyes, her heart's fears bring!
What sounds in her hushed ears ring!
What scenes of sorrow, and ever one form,
To her eyes, her heart's fears bring!
Look! now, to her inward vision,
A cloudless sky is given,
A glaring earth, that fiercely glows
To the glow of a glaring heaven.
A cloudless sky is given,
A glaring earth, that fiercely glows
To the glow of a glaring heaven.
Blind to all outward seeing,
In thought, she only sees
The stirless shade of the desert palms
That know not of air or breeze.
In thought, she only sees
The stirless shade of the desert palms
That know not of air or breeze.
And the stretch of the blinding desert
Glares redly across her sight,
Still sands that know no motion,
Bathed in eternal light.
Glares redly across her sight,
Still sands that know no motion,
Bathed in eternal light.
Then forms are seen and horsemen
Upon the hot wastes rise,
The ranks of the worn Crusaders,
They flicker before her eyes.
Upon the hot wastes rise,
The ranks of the worn Crusaders,
They flicker before her eyes.
38
“Water! O Jesu! water!
“One drop!” she hears that yell,
As if 'twere Dives, shrieking up
To Lazarus, out from hell.
“One drop!” she hears that yell,
As if 'twere Dives, shrieking up
To Lazarus, out from hell.
And one gaunt shape she watches,
Wordless, amid the din,
That onward toils through the molten sands,
To the mocking spring to win.
Wordless, amid the din,
That onward toils through the molten sands,
To the mocking spring to win.
On the hot sand, who lies dying,
Too weak to scare away
The vulture from his charger's eyes,
He soon the foul bird's prey?
Too weak to scare away
The vulture from his charger's eyes,
He soon the foul bird's prey?
Or, fetlock-deep, their chargers
Are toiling and toiling sore,
While ever some sink 'neath the weary load
They never shall bear more.
Are toiling and toiling sore,
While ever some sink 'neath the weary load
They never shall bear more.
A moment, the silence rings with shouts.
And the Arabs' yell she hears,
The Christians' shrieks, and the Paynim's cries,
And the splinter and crash of spears.
And the Arabs' yell she hears,
The Christians' shrieks, and the Paynim's cries,
And the splinter and crash of spears.
Again, and the swarthy Moslem
Are gone, and the host toil by;
God! have they left him there alone,
Wounded, unshrived, to die?
Are gone, and the host toil by;
God! have they left him there alone,
Wounded, unshrived, to die?
O that her love could bear her,
As swift as her wild fear flies,
To pillow on hers his dying head,
And to bless his dying eyes!
As swift as her wild fear flies,
To pillow on hers his dying head,
And to bless his dying eyes!
39
But sometimes the eastmost turret
Gives her brain as weary dreams
Of cities and kiosked gardens,
And fountains and golden streams.
Gives her brain as weary dreams
Of cities and kiosked gardens,
And fountains and golden streams.
For, ever those gardens tending,
A Christian slave is there,
That the bitter scoff of the Pagan hounds,
Must, smitten and shackled, bear;
A Christian slave is there,
That the bitter scoff of the Pagan hounds,
Must, smitten and shackled, bear;
Till the knightly heart is broken.
And the haughty eye grows dim,
And the stately form is bowed and bent,
Till the meanest can scoff at him.
And the haughty eye grows dim,
And the stately form is bowed and bent,
Till the meanest can scoff at him.
Or, hark! his haughty spirit
Unbroken, Mahound has curst,
And spat at the dogs who know not Christ,
And hath dared them to their worst.
Unbroken, Mahound has curst,
And spat at the dogs who know not Christ,
And hath dared them to their worst.
And, crouched in that ghastly dungeon,
Where newt and adder crawl,
She sees him, tortured, and crushed, and worn
By misery worse than all.
Where newt and adder crawl,
She sees him, tortured, and crushed, and worn
By misery worse than all.
O terrors! in shapes, how ghastly,
You scare and affray her eyes!
And hope, no fairer visions,
No sweeter dreams, supplies?
You scare and affray her eyes!
And hope, no fairer visions,
No sweeter dreams, supplies?
Yes; ever the first in glory,
In danger, saved through all,
Joy shows him, Christ's dear soldier,
Not doomed to sink or fall.
In danger, saved through all,
Joy shows him, Christ's dear soldier,
Not doomed to sink or fall.
40
And ever the deadly mêlée,
And burning wastes are trod,
Secure, by him she loveth,
Her warrior, loved of God.
And burning wastes are trod,
Secure, by him she loveth,
Her warrior, loved of God.
And ever, as on he battles
To where Christ's triumphs were,
His thoughts, she knows, are of his Lord,
His Lord alone, and her.
To where Christ's triumphs were,
His thoughts, she knows, are of his Lord,
His Lord alone, and her.
Then sometimes, calmly sinking
In such sweet dreams to rest,
With a yet, yet dearer vision
Her happier eyes are blest.
In such sweet dreams to rest,
With a yet, yet dearer vision
Her happier eyes are blest.
O joy of joys ecstatic!
A glad cry strikes her dumb
With gladness, calling to her,
“Come down! our lord has come!”
A glad cry strikes her dumb
With gladness, calling to her,
“Come down! our lord has come!”
Then, then, the glorious angels
That guard her, smile and know.
Heaven's blessedness at times is shown
To mortals yet below.
That guard her, smile and know.
Heaven's blessedness at times is shown
To mortals yet below.
| Contributions to a Ballad History of England and the States Sprung from Her | |