Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
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The Mine Spirit.
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 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
251
The Mine Spirit.
The lists were set, the tents were pitched,
The rosy country people clustered,
The flags flew forth, the herald's train
Around the great pavilion mustered;
When, from what region no one knew,
Rode in a stately stranger knight,
And, without word of courtesy,
Addressed him to the coming fight.
The rosy country people clustered,
The flags flew forth, the herald's train
Around the great pavilion mustered;
When, from what region no one knew,
Rode in a stately stranger knight,
And, without word of courtesy,
Addressed him to the coming fight.
Like a fair image all of gold
He rode, careering round the lists,
As the rude warders checked the crowd
With truncheon-strokes and blows of fists.
When the fierce trumpet had blown thrice
All people's eyes were eager turned
To where the radiance of the sun
A glory on his helmet burned.
He rode, careering round the lists,
As the rude warders checked the crowd
With truncheon-strokes and blows of fists.
When the fierce trumpet had blown thrice
All people's eyes were eager turned
To where the radiance of the sun
A glory on his helmet burned.
His saddle-housing was half gold,
Gold spangled shone his ostrich feather,
Like a winged creature of the stars,
He blazed, that radiant July weather.
Upon his breast a golden sun,
Upon his helm two silver stars,
With vizor down the stranger rode,
The very prototype of Mars.
Gold spangled shone his ostrich feather,
Like a winged creature of the stars,
He blazed, that radiant July weather.
Upon his breast a golden sun,
Upon his helm two silver stars,
With vizor down the stranger rode,
The very prototype of Mars.
Without a bow to lord or dame,
Without due homage to the king,
Fierce, hot, and swift as running flame,
Around the dark red trampled ring,
With poising lance and shaking sword,
He spurred and churned the tilt-yard dust;
His sword was of the spotless steel,
His battle-axe was one of trust.
Without due homage to the king,
Fierce, hot, and swift as running flame,
Around the dark red trampled ring,
With poising lance and shaking sword,
He spurred and churned the tilt-yard dust;
His sword was of the spotless steel,
His battle-axe was one of trust.
When the harsh trumpets blew together
The knights met, rough as northern seas,
With angry shouts, war-cries, and clamour,
As of the blast that fells great trees.
Swift through them, like a thunderbolt
From storm-clouds riven, broke the knight,
Unharmed he rode, the victor proved
Of that wild, jostling, clashing fight.
The knights met, rough as northern seas,
With angry shouts, war-cries, and clamour,
As of the blast that fells great trees.
Swift through them, like a thunderbolt
From storm-clouds riven, broke the knight,
Unharmed he rode, the victor proved
Of that wild, jostling, clashing fight.
Five spears had broken on his breast,
Yet he was heart-whole. Cold he laughed
When axes snapped upon his helm,
And maces shivered at the haft.
He bore him on and waved his spear,
Then made his charger leap and prance,
Or caracole, with spring and bound,
As he dashed onward with his lance.
Yet he was heart-whole. Cold he laughed
When axes snapped upon his helm,
And maces shivered at the haft.
He bore him on and waved his spear,
Then made his charger leap and prance,
Or caracole, with spring and bound,
As he dashed onward with his lance.
The prize was his, he donned the crown,
But never spoke nor kissed his hand,
Nor deigned a look to where there lay
Four knights loud groaning on the sand,
And when the people gave a cheer,
He flung them glittering showers of gold.
Then, without homage, word, or smile,
Rode sternly forth across the wold.
But never spoke nor kissed his hand,
Nor deigned a look to where there lay
Four knights loud groaning on the sand,
And when the people gave a cheer,
He flung them glittering showers of gold.
Then, without homage, word, or smile,
Rode sternly forth across the wold.
The proud king sent to call him back,
But he rode on, and never turned
Until they touched his silver robe:
Then his fierce eyes upon them turned.
He drew his falchion whistling forth,
And slew the first: “On him the blood!”
He cried, and stately rode away,
Down a dark vista of the wood.
But he rode on, and never turned
Until they touched his silver robe:
Then his fierce eyes upon them turned.
He drew his falchion whistling forth,
And slew the first: “On him the blood!”
He cried, and stately rode away,
Down a dark vista of the wood.
“Out on the knave!” the monarch stormed,
And leapt upon his snowy barb.
“Who am I, slaves, and who is this
That dares to spit upon my garb?”
Crowned as he was, he led the chase,
And all his train rode humble then;
They overtook the stranger knight
Beside a brook deep in the glen.
And leapt upon his snowy barb.
“Who am I, slaves, and who is this
That dares to spit upon my garb?”
Crowned as he was, he led the chase,
And all his train rode humble then;
They overtook the stranger knight
Beside a brook deep in the glen.
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Wrathful he proved, and slew the king,
And from his temples tore the crown;
Then rode amongst the trembling train,
Smiting the bravest of them down.
Yet, when they struck, they struck the air:
The knight was gone, nor left a sign;
But from the rocks this echo came,
“I am the Spirit of the Mine!”
And from his temples tore the crown;
Then rode amongst the trembling train,
Smiting the bravest of them down.
Yet, when they struck, they struck the air:
The knight was gone, nor left a sign;
But from the rocks this echo came,
“I am the Spirit of the Mine!”
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |