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 |
 |
The Death of Rufus.
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
27
The Death of Rufus.
In the White City's palace
Sat Rufus at the board,
And many an abbot round him,
And many a Norman lord.
Sat Rufus at the board,
And many an abbot round him,
And many a Norman lord.
The dark-red wine of Malvoisin
Flew fast amid the glee,
While the brutal laugh of Rufus
Rang o'er the revelry.
Flew fast amid the glee,
While the brutal laugh of Rufus
Rang o'er the revelry.
No need of torch in banquet hall,
For the sun was bright on high,
Like the blessed angels' dwelling-place
It glowed in yonder sky.
For the sun was bright on high,
Like the blessed angels' dwelling-place
It glowed in yonder sky.
At St. Swithin's shrine,
the shaven priest
A holy Mass has said,
A Mass for the buried Saxon prince,
A Mass for the royal dead.
A holy Mass has said,
A Mass for the buried Saxon prince,
A Mass for the royal dead.
Ah! little recked that savage king,
While the jest he shouted loud,
Of him who wore the Conqueror's crown,
Of battle or of shroud.
While the jest he shouted loud,
Of him who wore the Conqueror's crown,
Of battle or of shroud.
A white-robed monk rushed swiftly in;
Wild was his frenzied air;
Though his brain seemed seared by vision,
His hands were clasped in prayer.
Wild was his frenzied air;
Though his brain seemed seared by vision,
His hands were clasped in prayer.
On the tyrant's lip the mock of scorn
Died in a curse away,
As he stamped his foot and shouted,
“What would the driveller say?”
Died in a curse away,
As he stamped his foot and shouted,
“What would the driveller say?”
“Hear, monarch!” said the prophet:
“Beware thee of the chase;
I saw a blood-red comet
Hang o'er a blasted place.
“Beware thee of the chase;
I saw a blood-red comet
Hang o'er a blasted place.
“God's wrath is on thy cruel sport;
Outstretchéd is His hand,
His flaming sword He quivers
O'er a black and guilty land.”
Outstretchéd is His hand,
His flaming sword He quivers
O'er a black and guilty land.”
Silent the king in wonder
Gazed at the monk who spoke;
No voice of idle mocker
The solemn silence broke.
Gazed at the monk who spoke;
No voice of idle mocker
The solemn silence broke.
“I saw thee come in vision
Into St. Swithin's shrine,
Crowned as for fight or banquet,
With that haughty mien of thine.
Into St. Swithin's shrine,
Crowned as for fight or banquet,
With that haughty mien of thine.
“I saw thee like the were-wolf, King;
Seize on the relics there,
And with thy teeth” (stern Rufus smiled)
“The sainted treasure tear.
Seize on the relics there,
And with thy teeth” (stern Rufus smiled)
“The sainted treasure tear.
“And then a blow from unseen hand
Dashed thee into a tomb,
And smoke and flame from the vault came up,
Till the stars were hid in gloom.”
Dashed thee into a tomb,
And smoke and flame from the vault came up,
Till the stars were hid in gloom.”
“Is this thy dream, thou dotard?”
Wild laughter shook the hall:
“A tale to please a holy nun;
Go, paint it on thy wall.
Wild laughter shook the hall:
“A tale to please a holy nun;
Go, paint it on thy wall.
“A health!” he said, and gave the bowl
To him who sat him next.
“Waes hael! to the fat monk's treasures
Hid 'neath a rugged vest.
To him who sat him next.
“Waes hael! to the fat monk's treasures
Hid 'neath a rugged vest.
“Why silent?” quoth the monarch:
“I only love the bold.
'T is but a monk, a drivelling priest,
Who sells his dreams for gold.
“I only love the bold.
'T is but a monk, a drivelling priest,
Who sells his dreams for gold.
28
“Give the fool a hundred shillings.”—
He dashed them down in scorn.
“Thy soul will need some Masses
Before the morrow morn.”
He dashed them down in scorn.
“Thy soul will need some Masses
Before the morrow morn.”
“A sturdy knave,” grim Rufus cried.
“Fill up another bowl;
I'll never starve the body
In hopes to save the soul.
“Fill up another bowl;
I'll never starve the body
In hopes to save the soul.
“Let women pore o'er painted books,
And tremble at a dream;
Who mates with monks and shaven fools,
A coward knave I deem.
And tremble at a dream;
Who mates with monks and shaven fools,
A coward knave I deem.
“Let Robert, in a land of fire,
A beggared hermit roam,
While I with hound and falcon
Hunt in my royal home.
A beggared hermit roam,
While I with hound and falcon
Hunt in my royal home.
“Go, bid the vassals saddle
The steed at Mons I rode;
By the holy cross at Lucca,
'T is the best I e'er bestrode.
The steed at Mons I rode;
By the holy cross at Lucca,
'T is the best I e'er bestrode.
“I love the chase, 't is mimic war,
And the hollow bay of hound;
The heart of Norman chieftain
Beats quicker at the sound.”
And the hollow bay of hound;
The heart of Norman chieftain
Beats quicker at the sound.”
“Go not, my liege,” said Tyrrel.
“Already in yon bay,
The bands all bound for Poictou
For thee, their monarch, stay.”
“Already in yon bay,
The bands all bound for Poictou
For thee, their monarch, stay.”
“Prate not of dreams,” said Rufus—
And a savage oath he swore—
“Though yon woods were full of devils,
I'd hunt me there the boar.”
And a savage oath he swore—
“Though yon woods were full of devils,
I'd hunt me there the boar.”
Forth, as the sun is setting,
Rides the gay cavalcade,
By many a ruin'd village,
Through many a tangled glade.
Rides the gay cavalcade,
By many a ruin'd village,
Through many a tangled glade.
The wood in the calm fair sunset
Blazed with a fiery light,
O'er ruined church and hamlet
Came slowly on the night.
Blazed with a fiery light,
O'er ruined church and hamlet
Came slowly on the night.
Fair as the last sad parting
The sun will take of earth,
All silent rode the hunters,—
It seemed no place for mirth.
The sun will take of earth,
All silent rode the hunters,—
It seemed no place for mirth.
Deep lay the giant shadows,
Dark, dark, on every side,
Like a countless host of spirits
Stood the forest spreading wide.
Dark, dark, on every side,
Like a countless host of spirits
Stood the forest spreading wide.
High o'er the rest, like monarchs,
The oaks, hoar monsters, stood.
No eye may pierce the stillness,
The blackness of the wood.
The oaks, hoar monsters, stood.
No eye may pierce the stillness,
The blackness of the wood.
Like the roof of some great temple
Their old moss'd boughs were spread,
Scarce could the sun's last glory
Stream through the shade o'erhead.
Their old moss'd boughs were spread,
Scarce could the sun's last glory
Stream through the shade o'erhead.
A deer burst forth in panic
At the savage laugh and song.
Hounds from the leash are parted,
The hunters sweep along.
At the savage laugh and song.
Hounds from the leash are parted,
The hunters sweep along.
In a forest glade stands Rufus,
Intent on sylvan prize;
From the parting rays of sunlight
The monarch veils his eyes.
Intent on sylvan prize;
From the parting rays of sunlight
The monarch veils his eyes.
“Shoot, Tyrrel, shoot!” he thunders:
Swift came the glancing dart;
It has pierced the crownéd hunter,
It quivers in his heart.
Swift came the glancing dart;
It has pierced the crownéd hunter,
It quivers in his heart.
To the gate of the fair White City
Comes the charcoal burner's wain;
It brings no hart for abbot's board,
It bears the royal slain.
Comes the charcoal burner's wain;
It brings no hart for abbot's board,
It bears the royal slain.
29
At fall of eve, the holy Mass
Chants the monk at St. Swithin's shrine:
“Great God!” the dreamer mutters,
“Thine is the vengeance, Thine.”
Chants the monk at St. Swithin's shrine:
“Great God!” the dreamer mutters,
“Thine is the vengeance, Thine.”
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |