• BY none but me can the tale be told,
• The butcher of Rouen, poor Berold.
• ( Lands are swayed by a King on a throne.)
• 'Twas a royal train put forth to sea,
• Yet the tale can be told by none but me.
• ( The sea hath no King but God alone.)

• King Henry had pledged his oath plighted a vow
• That after his death his son should reign.

• And all the chiefs of the English land
• 10Had knelt & kissed the Prince's hand.

• And now next with his son he sailed to France
• To claim the Norman allegiance:

• And every baron of in Normandy
• Had taken the oath of fealty.

• 'Twas sworn & sealed, & the day had come
• When the King & the Prince might journey home:

• Stout Fitz-Stephen came to the King,—
• A captain pilot famous in sea-faring;

• And he said: “O King I “Liege Lord! my father guided the ship
• 20From whose deck boat your father's foot did slip
• When he caught the English soil in his grip

• ”And cried, “By this clasp I claim command
• O'er every rood of English land.”

• He was borne to the realm you rule o'er now
• In that ship with the archer carved at its prow,

• ”And thither I'll bear, an' it liketh you,
• Your father's son & his grandson too.

• “The famed White Ship is mine in the bay
• From Harfleur's harbour she sails to-day

• 30”With masts fair-pennoned as Norman spears
• And with fifty chosen mariners.“

• “My ships” uoth the King: ”are fixed upon,
• But I'll not say nay to Stephen's son.

• My son and daughter and fellowship
• Shall cross the water in the White Ship.

• And I Berold was the [?] meanest hind
• In all that train to the Prince assign'd.

• The King set sail with a fair the eve's south wind
• And soon he left th e at coast s behind.

• 40The Prince and all his, a princely show,
• Remained with in the fair good White Ship to go.

• These hundred souls With brilliant noble knights & with ladies fair
• And With courtiers & sailors gathered there,
• Three hundred living souls they we were.

• The Prince was a reckless lawless shameless youth,
• And if of King's heirs men said the truth They had called And Men held him as meat for the devil's tooth.

• Eighteen years till then he had seen,
• But And the devil's dues in him were more than eighteen.

• And now he cried: “Bring wine from below,
• 50Let the sailors drink before they shall revel ere yet they row:

• We Our speed shall o'ertake my father's flight
• Though we feast in sail from the harbour till at midnight.

Deleted TextThe sailors made good speed without check The Lords & ladies obeyed [?] The light [?] &
• The sailors rowers made good cheer without check;
• The lords &ladies obeyed his beck;
• The night was still light, and they danced on the deck.

• With the But at midnight's stroke they cleared the bay,
• And the White Ship furrowed the water-way.

• The sails were set, & the oars kept tune
• To the double flight of the ship & the moon.

• 60Swifter and swifter still they/she the White Ship sped
• With Till they she flew as the spirit flies from the dead.

• As white as a lily glimmered she
• Like a ship's wan fair ghost upon the sea.

• And the Prince cried, ”Friends, 'tis the hour to sing.
• What Is a songbird's fli course is more so swift on the wing?“

• And under the winter stars ' as they raced alon g still throng,
• From brown throats, white throats, merry & strong,
• The knights and the ladies raised a song.
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• No A song,— nay, a shriek that rose to the sky,
• That leaped o'er the waves;—like a distant wild far sigh
• The King's ships heard it and knew not why..

• A shriek that answered the instant shock
• 70As the ship's keel felt the hidden sunken rock.

• Pale Fitz-Stephen stood by the helm
• 'Mid all those folk that the waves must whelm.

• A great King's heir for the waves to whelm,
• And the helpless pilot pale at the helm!

• The ship was eager and sucked athirst,
• As a swimming bladder fills when pierced.

• And like the moil round a sinking cup,
• The waters against her crowded up.

• A moment the pilot's senses spin,—
• 80The next he snatched the Prince mid the din,
• Cut the boat loose, & the youth leaped in.

• A few friends leaped with him, standing near.
• ”Row! row! the sea's smooth and the night is clear.“

• ”What! none to be saved but these and I?“
• ”Row, row as you'd live! All here must die!“

• Out of the churn of the ailing choking ship
• Which the gulf grapples & the waves strip,
• They struck with the strained oars' flash & dip.

• 'Twas then o'er the splitting bulwarks' brim
• 90The Prince's sister screamed to him.

• He turned about, still rowing apace,
• And through the whirled surf he knew her face.

• To the toppling decks all clung amain
• As a fly clings to a window pane.

• I Berold was clinging anear;
• I prayed for myself & quaked with fear,
• But I saw his eyes as he looked at her.

• He knew her face and he heard her cry,
• And he said, “Put back! she shall must not die!”

• 100And back they sped through the fo/ foaming frill through the flying foam they reel
• As the a leaf sends in a water- mill wheel.

• 'Neath the ship's travail they scarce might float
• But he turned rose & stood in the rocking boat.

• Prone the poor ship lay on the tide:
• O'er the naked keel as she best might slide,
• The sister toiled to the brother's side.

• He reached an oar to her from below,
• And stiffened his arms to clutch her so.

• But now from the ship some spied the boat,
• And “Saved!” was the cry from many a throat.

• And down to the boat they leaped and fell:
• It turned as a bucket turns in a well,
• And nothing was there but the surge and swell.

• The Prince that was & the King to come,
• With the rest, by God's will, gone to his doom,

• Despite of all England's bended knee
• And maugre the Norman fealty!

• 120 A Prince He was a Prince of lust and pride,
• Yet to save his sister's life he died.

• He had made his father's heart to ache,
• Yet he died there for his sister's sake.

• When he should be King, he oft would vow,
• He'd yoke the peasant to his own plough.
• O'er him the ships score their furrows now.

• But where the Judge of all Kings doth stand,
• His sister knelt with him hand in hand.

• By none but me can the tale be told,
• The butcher of Rouen, poor Berold.
• 130( Lands are swayed by a King on a throne.)
• 'Twas a royal train went put forth to sea,
• Yet the tale can be told by none but me.
• ( The sea hath no King but God alone.)

• And now the end came on o'er the middle sea,
• Like the last great Day that's yet to be.

• Amid vain With prayers in vain & curses in vain,
• The White Ship sundered on the mid-main:

• And what were men & what was a ship
• Were toys & splinters in the sea's grip.

• 140I Berold was down in the sea;
• And passing strange though the thing may be,
• Of dreams then known I remember me.

• Blithe is the shout on Harfleur's strand
• When morning lights the sails to land:

• And blithe is Honfleur's echoing gloam
• When mothers call the children home:

• And blithe do the bells of Rouen beat
• When the Body of Christ goes down the street.

• These things & the like were heard & shown
• 150In a moment's space trance 'neath the sea alone;

• And when I rose, 'twas the sea did seem,
• And not these things, to be all a dream.

• The ship was gone & the crowd was gone,
• And the sea deep shuddered & the moon shone:

• And in a strait grasp my arms did span
• The mainyard split from the mast where it ran;
• And on it with me was another man.

• Where lands were none 'neath the dark sea-sky,
• We told our names, that man & I.

• 160“O I am Godefroy de l'Aigle hight,
• And son I am to a belted knight.”

• “And I am Berold the butcher's son
• Who slays the beasts in Rouen town.”

• Then cried we upon God's name, as we
• Did drift on the bitter biting sea.

• And each knew each as the hours moments sped,
• Less for one living than for one dead.

• But once a third face man rose o'er the wave,
• And we said, “Thank God! these too shall us three may He save!

• 170He clutched to the yard with panting stare,
• And we looked & knew Fitz-Stephen there.

• He clung, and “What of the Prince?” said he.
• “Lost, lost!” we cried. He cried, “Woe on me!”
• And left loosed his hold and sank down through through the sea.

• And soul with soul again in that space
• We two were together face to face:

• And every dim still star overhead
• Seemed an eye that knew we were but dead.

• And the hours passed; till the noble's son
• 180 Oer Sighed, “God be thy help! my strength's foredone!

• “O farewell, friend, for I can no more!”
• “Christ take thee!” I said moaned; & his life was o'er.

• Three hundred souls were all lost, but one;
• And I drifted over the sea alone.

• Then morning rose afar on the sea
• Like an angel's wing that beat tow'rds me.

• Sore numbed I was yet I still might float in my sheepskin coat;
• Yet I clung sore/all agéd/half dead Half dead I clung, & might little note,
• Till I woke sun-warmed in a fisher-boat.

• 190The sun was over high o'er the eastern brim
• As we I praised God & gave thanks to Him.

• Then first I told my tale to a priest,
• Who charged me, till my shrift were releas'd,
• That I should keep it in mine own breast.

• And thence I went with the priest to where
• The King held court at Winchester.

• I spoke with the King's high chamberlain,
• And he wept & made me tell it again,

• And round me ever there crowded fast
• Great men with faces all aghast:

• And who so bold that might tell the thing
• From me first learnt That now they knew to their lord the King?

• For two whole days The King had watched with a heart sore stirred
• For two whole days, & this was the third:

• And still to all his court would he say—
• What keeps the Prince so long away?

• And they said the ports lie far & wide
• That skirt the swell of the English tide,

• 210And England's cliffs are not more white
• Than her women are, and not more bright scarce so light
• Her skies as their eyes the are blue & bright bright

• And in some port that he reached from France
• The Prince has lingered for his pleasaùnce.

• But once the King asked: What distant cry
• Was that we heard 'twixt the sea & sky?

• 'Twas thus till now they had soothed his dread
• 220Albeit they knew not what they said.

• And one said, With suchlike shouts, pardie!
• Do the fishers fling their nets at sea.

• But who should speak to-day of the thing
• That all knew there except the King?

• Then pondering much they found a way,
• And met around/about round the King's high seat -Mead that day

• And the King sat with a heart sore stirred,
• And little was said & little seldom he spoke & seldom heard.
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• Then first 'Twas then through the hall the King was 'ware
• Of a little boy with golden hair,

• As bright as the golden poppy is
• 230That the beach breeds for the surf to kiss:

• Yet pale his cheek as the thorn in Spring,
• And his garb black like the raven's wing.

• Nothing heard but his foot through the hall,
• For now the lords were silent all.

• And the King wondered, & said, “Alack!
• Who sends me a fair boy dressed in black?

• “Why, sweet heart, do you pace through the hall
• As though my court were a funeral?”

• Then lowly kne lt eled the child at the dais,
• 240And looked up weeping in the King's face.

• “O wherefore black, O King, ye may say,
• For white is the hue of death to-day.

• Your son and all his fellowship
• Lie in the sea's bed with the White Ship.”

• Then the King fell as a man struck dead;
• And speechless still he lay in his bed
• When to him next day my rede I read.

• There's many an hour must needs beguile
• A King's high heart that he should smile,—

• 250Full many a lordly hour, full fain
• Of his realm's rule & pride of his reign:—
• But this King never smiled again.

• By none but me can the tale be told,
• The butcher of Rouen, poor Berold.
• ( Lands are swayed by a King on a throne.)
• 'Twas a royal train put forth to sea,
• Yet the tale can be told by none but me.
• ( The sea hath no King but God alone.)

D G Rossetti

1880

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