The Pre-Raphaelites- From Rossetti to Ruskin
Page 19
205 ‘Along the lists look to my stake and pen
With such a joyous smile, it made me sigh
From agony beneath my waist-chain, when
‘The fight began, and to me they drew nigh;
Ever Sir Launcelot kept him on the right,
210 And traversed warily, and ever high
‘And fast leapt caitiff’s sword, until my knight
Sudden threw up his sword to his left hand,
Caught it, and swung it; that was all the fight.
‘Except a spout of blood on the hot land;
215 For it was hottest summer; and I know
I wonder’d how the fire, while I should stand,
‘And burn, against the heat, would quiver so,
Yards above my head; thus these matters went:
Which things were only warnings of the woe
220 ‘That fell on me. Yet Mellyagraunce was shent,
For Mellyagraunce had fought against the Lord;
Therefore, my lords, take heed lest you be blent
‘With all this wickedness; say no rash word
Against me, being so beautiful; my eyes,
225 Wept all away the grey, may bring some sword
‘To drown you in your blood; see my breast rise,
Like waves of purple sea, as here I stand;
And how my arms are moved in wonderful wise,
‘Yea also at my full heart’s strong command,
230 See through my long throat how the words go up
In ripples to my mouth; how in my hand
‘The shadow lies like wine within a cup
Of marvellously colour’d gold; yea now
This little wind is rising, look you up,
235 ‘And wonder how the light is falling so
Within my moving tresses: will you dare,
When you have looked a little on my brow,
‘To say this thing is vile? or will you care
For any plausible lies of cunning woof,
240 When you can see my face with no lie there
‘For ever? am I not a gracious proof –
“But in your chamber Launcelot was found” –
Is there a good knight then would stand aloof,
‘When a queen says with gentle queenly sound:
245 “O true as steel come now and talk with me,
I love to see your step upon the ground
‘ “Unwavering, also well I love to see
That gracious smile light up your face, and hear
Your wonderful words, that all mean verily
250 ‘ “The thing they seem to mean: good friend, so dear
To me in everything, come here to-night,
Or else the hours will pass most dull and drear;
‘ “If you come not, I fear this time I might
Get thinking over much of times gone by,
255 When I was young, and green hope was in sight:
‘ “For no man cares now to know why I sigh;
And no man comes to sing me pleasant songs,
Nor any brings me the sweet flowers that lie
‘ “So thick in the gardens; therefore one so longs
260 To see you, Launcelot; that we may be
Like children once again, free from all wrongs
‘ “Just for one night.” Did he not come to me?
What thing could keep true Launcelot away
If I said “come?” there was one less than three
265 ‘In my quiet room that night, and we were gay;
Till sudden I rose up, weak, pale, and sick,
Because a bawling broke our dream up, yea
‘I looked at Launcelot’s face and could not speak,
For he looked helpless too, for a little while;
270 Then I remember how I tried to shriek,
‘And could not, but fell down; from tile to tile
The stones they threw up rattled o’er my head
And made me dizzier; till within a while
‘My maids were all about me, and my head
275 On Launcelot’s breast was being soothed away
From its white chattering, until Launcelot said –
‘By God! I will not tell you more to-day,
Judge any way you will – what matters it?
You know quite well the story of that fray,
280 ‘How Launcelot still’d their bawling, the mad fit
That caught up Gauwaine – all, all, verily,
But just that which would save me; these things flit.
‘Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,
Whatever may have happen’d these long years,
285 God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie!
‘All I have said is truth, by Christ’s dear tears.’
She would not speak another word, but stood
Turn’d sideways; listening, like a man who hears
His brother’s trumpet sounding through the wood
290 Of his foes’ lances. She lean’d eagerly,
And gave a slight spring sometimes, as she could
At last hear something really; joyfully
Her cheek grew crimson, as the headlong speed
Of the roan charger drew all men to see,
295 The knight who came was Launcelot at good need.
The Gilliflower of Gold
A golden gilliflower to-day
I wore upon my helm alway,
And won the prize of this tourney,
Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
5 However well Sir Giles might sit,
His sun was weak to wither it,
Lord Miles’s blood was dew on it:
Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
Although my spear in splinters flew,
10 From John’s steel-coat my eye was true;
I wheel’d about, and cried for you,
Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
Yea, do not doubt my heart was good,
Though my sword flew like rotten wood,
15 To shout, although I scarcely stood,
Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
My hand was steady too, to take
My axe from round my neck, and break
John’s steel-coat up for my love’s sake.
20 Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
When I stood in my tent again,
Arming afresh, I felt a pain
Take hold of me, I was so fain –
Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
To hear: ‘Honneur aux fils des preux!’
25 Right in my ears again, and shew
The gilliflower blossom’d new.
Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
The Sieur Guillaume against me came,
His tabard bore three points of flame
30 From a red heart: with little blame –
Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
Our tough spears crackled up like straw;
He was the first to turn and draw
His sword, that had nor speck nor flaw, –
35 Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
But I felt weaker than a maid,
And my brain, dizzied and afraid,
Within my helm a fierce tune play’d, –
Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
40 Until I thought of your dear head,
Bow’d to the gilliflower bed,
The yellow flowers stain’d with red; –
Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
Crash! How the swords met, ‘giroflée!’
45 The fierce tune in my helm would play,
‘La belle! la belle! jaune giroflée!’
Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
Once more the great swords met again,
50 ‘La belle! La belle!’ but who fell then
Le Sieur Guillaume, who struck down ten; –
Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
And as with mazed and unarm’d face,
Toward my own crown and the Queen’s place,
55 They led me at a gentle pace –
Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
I almost saw your quiet head
Bow’d o’er the gilliflower bed,
The yellow flowers stain’d with red –
60 Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
The Judgment of God
‘Swerve to the left, son Roger,’ he said,
‘When you catch his eyes through the helmet-slit,
Swerve to the left, then out at his head,
And the Lord God give you joy of it!’
5 The blue owls on my father’s hood
Were a little dimm’d as I turn’d away;
This giving up of blood for blood
Will finish here somehow to-day.
So – when I walk’d out from the tent,
10 Their howling almost blinded me;
Yet for all that I was not bent
By any shame. Hard by, the sea
Made a noise like the aspens where
We did that wrong, but now the place
15 Is very pleasant, and the air
Blows cool on any passer’s face.
And all the wrong is gathered now
Into the circle of these lists –
Yea, howl out, butchers! tell me how
20 His hands were cut off at the wrists;
And how Lord Roger bore his face
A league above his spear-point, high
Above the owls, to that strong place
Among the waters – yea, yea, cry:
25 ‘What a brave champion we have got!
Sir Oliver, the flower of all
The Hainault knights.’ The day being hot,
He sat beneath a broad white pall,
White linen over all his steel;
30 What a good knight he look’d! his sword
Laid thwart his knees; he liked to feel
Its steadfast edge clear as his word.
And he look’d solemn; how his love
Smiled whitely on him, sick with fear!
35 How all the ladies up above
Twisted their pretty hands! so near
The fighting was – Ellayne! Ellayne!
They cannot love like you can, who
Would burn your hands off, if that pain
40 Could win a kiss – am I not true
To you for ever? therefore I
Do not fear death or anything;
If I should limp home wounded, why,
While I lay sick you would but sing,
45 And soothe me into quiet sleep.
If they spat on the recreant knight,
Threw stones at him, and cursed him deep,
Why then – what then; your hand would light
So gently on his drawn-up face,
50 And you would kiss him, and in soft
Cool scented clothes would lap him, pace
The quiet room and weep oft, – oft
Would turn and smile, and brush his cheek
With your sweet chin and mouth; and in
55 The order’d garden you would seek
The biggest roses – any sin.
And these say: ‘No more now my knight,
Or God’s knight any longer’ – you,
Being than they so much more white,
60 So much more pure and good and true,
Will cling to me for ever – there,
Is not that wrong turn’d right at last
Through all these years, and I wash’d clean?
Say, yea, Ellayne; the time is past,
65 Since on that Christmas-day last year
Up to your feet the fire crept,
And the smoke through the brown leaves sere
Blinded your dear eyes that you wept;
Was it not I that caught you then,
70 And kiss’d you on the saddle-bow?
Did not the blue owl mark the men
Whose spears stood like the corn a-row?
This Oliver is a right good knight,
And must needs beat me, as I fear,
75 Unless I catch him in the fight,
My father’s crafty way – John, here!
Bring up the men from the south gate,
To help me if I fall or win,
For even if I beat, their hate
80 Will grow to more than this mere grin.
Spell-Bound
How weary is it none can tell,
How dismally the days go by!
I hear the tinkling of the bell,
I see the cross against the sky.
5 The year wears round to autumn-tide,
Yet comes no reaper to the corn;
The golden land is like a bride
When first she knows herself forlorn –
She sits and weeps with all her hair
10 Laid downward over tender hands;
For stained silk she hath no care,
No care for broken ivory wands;
The silver cups beside her stand;
The golden stars on the blue roof
15 Yet glitter, though against her hand
His cold sword presses for a proof
He is not dead, but gone away.
How many hours did she wait
For me, I wonder? Till the day
20 Had faded wholly, and the gate
Clanged to behind returning knights?
I wonder did she raise her head
And go away, fleeing the lights;
And lay the samite on her bed,
25 The wedding samite strewn with pearls:
Then sit with hands laid on her knees,
Shuddering at half-heard sound of girls
That chatter outside in the breeze?
I wonder did her poor heart throb
30 At distant tramp of coming knight?
How often did the choking sob
Raise up her head and lips? The light,
Did it come on her unawares,
And drag her sternly down before
35 People who loved her not? in prayers
Did she say one name and no more?
And once – all songs they ever sung,
All tales they ever told to me,
This only burden through them rung:
40 O! golden love that waitest me,
The days pass on, pass on a pace,
Sometimes I have a little rest
In fairest dreams, when on thy face
My lips lie, or thy hands are prest
45 About my forehead, and thy lips
Draw near and nearer to mine own;
But when the vision from me slips,
In colourless dawn I lie and moan,
And wander forth with fever’d blood,
50 That makes me start at little things,
The blackbird screaming from the wood,
The sudden whirr of pheasants’ wings.
O! dearest, scarcely seen by me –
But when that wild time had gone by,
55 And in these arms I folded thee,
Who ever thought those days could die?
Yet now I wait, and you wait too,
For what perchance may never come;
You think I have forgotten you,
60 That I grew tired and went home.
But what if some day as I stood
Against the wall with strained hands,
And turn’d my face toward the wood,
Away from all the golden lands;
65 And saw you come with tired feet,
And pale face thin and wan with care,
And stained raiment no more neat,
The white dust lying on your hair: –
Then I should say, I could not come;
70 This land was my wide prison, dear;
I could not choose but go; at home
There is a wizard whom I fear:
He bound me round with silken chains
I could not break; he set me her
e
75 Above the golden-waving plains,
Where never reaper cometh near.
And you have brought me my good sword,
Wherewith in happy days of old
I won you well from knight and lord;
80 My heart upswells and I grow bold.
But I shall die unless you stand,
– Half lying now, you are so weak, –
Within my arms, unless your hand
Pass to and fro across my cheek.
The Blue Closet
THE DAMOZELS
Lady Alice, lady Louise,
Between the wash of the tumbling seas
We are ready to sing, if so ye please;
So lay your long hands on the keys;
5 Sing, ‘Laudate pueri.’
And ever the great bell overhead
Boom’d in the wind a knell for the dead,
Though no one toll’d it, a knell for the dead.
LADY LOUISE
Sister, let the measure swell
10 Not too loud; for you sing not well
If you drown the faint boom of the bell;
He is weary, so am I.
And ever the chevron overhead
Flapp’d on the banner of the dead;
15 (Was he asleep, or was he dead?)
LADY ALICE
Alice the Queen, and Louise the Queen,
Two damozels wearing purple and green,
Four lone ladies dwelling here
From day to day and year to year;
20 And there is none to let us go;
To break the locks of the doors below,
Or shovel away the heaped-up snow;
And when we die no man will know
That we are dead; but they give us leave,
25 Once every year on Christmas-eve,
To sing in the Closet Blue one song;
And we should be so long, so long,
If we dared, in singing; for dream on dream,
They float on in a happy stream;
30 Float from the gold strings, float from the keys,
Float from the open’d lips of Louise;
But, alas! the sea-salt oozes through
The chinks of the tiles of the Closet Blue;