POEMS



BY



DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.



A NEW EDITION.



LONDON:

ELLIS & WHITE, 29 NEW BOND STREET.

1881.

   

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POEMS .
• THE BLESSED DAMOZEL . . . . . . . . . . 3
• SISTER HELEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
• STRATTON WATER . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
• THE STAFF AND SCRIP . . . . . . . . . .34
• AVE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .45
• DANTE AT VERONA . . . . . . . . . . . .51
• TROY TOWN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .77
• EDEN BOWER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82
• THE CARD-DEALER . . . . . . . . . . . .92
• LOVE'S NOCTURN . . . . . . . . . . . . 95
• THE STREAM'S SECRET . . . . . . . . . 103
• JENNY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115
• THE PORTRAIT . . . . . . . . . . . . .133
• MY SISTER'S SLEEP . . . . . . . . . . 138
• DOWN STREAM . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142
• A LAST CONFESSION . . . . . . . . . . 144
• THE BURDEN OF NINEVEH . . . . . . . . 170
• WELLINGTON'S FUNERAL . . . . . . . . .180
• AN OLD SONG ENDED . . . . . . . . . . 184
• WORLD'S WORTH . . . . . . . . . . . . 185
• ASPECTA MEDUSA . . . . . . . . . . . .187
• THE BRIDE'S PRELUDE . . . . . . . . . 188

LYRICS .
• LOVE-LILY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237
• FIRST LOVE REMEMBERED . . . . . . . . 239
• PLIGHTED PROMISE . . . . . . . . . . .240
• SUDDEN LIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . .242
• A LITTLE WHILE . . . . . . . . . . . .243
• THE SONG OF THE BOWER . . . . . . . . 245
• PENUMBRA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .247
• A NEW-YEAR'S BURDEN . . . . . . . . . 249
• EVEN SO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250
• THE WOODSPURGE . . . . . . . . . . . .251
• THE HONEYSUCKLE . . . . . . . . . . . 252
• A YOUNG FIR-WOOD . . . . . . . . . . .253
• THE SEA-LIMITS . . . . . . . . . . . .254

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SONNETS .
• FOR ‘OUR LADY OF THE ROCKS’ BY LEONARDO DA
  
  VINCI . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259
• FOR A VENETIAN PASTORAL BY GIORGIONE . . 260
• FOR AN ALLEGORICAL DANCE OF WOMEN BY ANDREA
  
  MANTEGNA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .261
• FOR ‘RUGGIERO AND ANGELICA’ BY INGRES . 262-3
• FOR ‘THE WINE OF CIRCE’ BY EDWARD BURNE
  
  JONES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264
• MARY'S GIRLHOOD . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265
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• THE PASSOVER IN THE HOLY FAMILY . . . . . 266
• MARY MAGDALENE AT THE DOOR OF SIMON THE
  
  PHARISEE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267
• CASSANDRA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .268-9
• VENUS VERTICORDIA . . . . . . . . . . . .270
• PANDORA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .271
• ON REFUSAL OF AID BETWEEN NATIONS . . . .272
• ON THE ‘VITA NUOVA’ OF DANTE . . . . . 273
• DANTIS TENEBRÆ . . . . . . . . . . . . .274
• BEAUTY AND THE BIRD . . . . . . . . . . .275
• A MATCH WITH THE MOON . . . . . . . . . .276

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TRANSLATIONS .
• THE BALLAD OF DEAD LADIES (VILLON) . . . . 279
• TO DEATH, OF HIS LADY (VILLON) . . . . . . 281
• HIS MOTHER'S SERVICE TO OUR LADY (VILLON) .282
• JOHN OF TOURS (OLD FRENCH) . . . . . . . . 284
• MY FATHER'S CLOSE (OLD FRENCH) . . . . . . 286
• BEAUTY (SAPPHO) . . . . . . . . . . . . . .288
• YOUTH AND LORDSHIP (ITALIAN STREET-SONG) . 289
• THE LEAF (LEOPARDI) . . . . . . . . . . . .292
• FRANCESCA DA RIMINI (DANTE) . . . . . . . .293

       

• The blessed damozel leaned out
• From the gold bar of Heaven;
• Her eyes were deeper than the depth
• Of waters stilled at even;
• She had three lilies in her hand,
• And the stars in her hair were seven.

• Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem,
• No wrought flowers did adorn,
• But a white rose of Mary's gift,
• 10 For service meetly worn;
• Her hair that lay along her back
• Was yellow like ripe corn.

• Herseemed she scarce had been a day
• One of God's choristers;
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• The wonder was not yet quite gone
• From that still look of hers;
• Albeit, to them she left, her day
• Had counted as ten years.

• (To one, it is ten years of years.
• 20 . . . Yet now, and in this place,
• Surely she leaned o'er me—her hair
• Fell all about my face. . . .
• Nothing: the autumn-fall of leaves.
• The whole year sets apace.)

• It was the rampart of God's house
• That she was standing on;
• By God built over the sheer depth
• The which is Space begun;
• So high, that looking downward thence
• 30 She scarce could see the sun.

• It lies in Heaven, across the flood
• Of ether, as a bridge.
• Beneath, the tides of day and night
• With flame and darkness ridge
• The void, as low as where this earth
• Spins like a fretful midge.

• Around her, lovers, newly met
• 'Mid deathless love's acclaims,
• Spoke evermore among themselves
• 40 Their heart-remembered names;
• And the souls mounting up to God
• Went by her like thin flames.

• And still she bowed herself and stooped
• Out of the circling charm;
• Until her bosom must have made
• The bar she leaned on warm,
• And the lilies lay as if asleep
• Along her bended arm.

• From the fixed place of Heaven she saw
• 50 Time like a pulse shake fierce
• Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strove
• Within the gulf to pierce
• Its path; and now she spoke as when
• The stars sang in their spheres.

• The sun was gone now; the curled moon
• Was like a little feather
• Fluttering far down the gulf; and now
• She spoke through the still weather.
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• Her voice was like the voice the stars
• 60 Had when they sang together.

• (Ah sweet! Even now, in that bird's song,
• Strove not her accents there,
• Fain to be hearkened? When those bells
• Possessed the mid-day air,
• Strove not her steps to reach my side
• Down all the echoing stair?)

• ‘I wish that he were come to me,
• For he will come,’ she said.
• ‘Have I not prayed in Heaven?—on earth,
• 70 Lord, Lord, has he not pray'd?
• Are not two prayers a perfect strength?
• And shall I feel afraid?

• ‘When round his head the aureole clings,
• And he is clothed in white,
• I'll take his hand and go with him
• To the deep wells of light;
• As unto a stream we will step down,
• And bathe there in God's sight.

• ‘We two will stand beside that shrine,
• 80 Occult, withheld, untrod,
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• Whose lamps are stirred continually
• With prayer sent up to God;
• And see our old prayers, granted, melt
• Each like a little cloud.

• ‘We two will lie i' the shadow of
• That living mystic tree
• Within whose secret growth the Dove
• Is sometimes felt to be,
• While every leaf that His plumes touch
• 90 Saith His Name audibly.

• ‘And I myself will teach to him,
• I myself, lying so,
• The songs I sing here; which his voice
• Shall pause in, hushed and slow,
• And find some knowledge at each pause,
• Or some new thing to know.’

• (Alas! We two, we two, thou say'st!
• Yea, one wast thou with me
• That once of old. But shall God lift
• 100 To endless unity
• The soul whose likeness with thy soul
• Was but its love for thee?)

• ‘We two,’ she said, ‘will seek the groves
• Where the lady Mary is,
• With her five handmaidens, whose names
• Are five sweet symphonies,
• Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen,
• Margaret and Rosalys.

• ‘Circlewise sit they, with bound locks
• 110 And foreheads garlanded;
• Into the fine cloth white like flame
• Weaving the golden thread,
• To fashion the birth-robes for them
• Who are just born, being dead.

• ‘He shall fear, haply, and be dumb:
• Then will I lay my cheek
• To his, and tell about our love,
• Not once abashed or weak:
• And the dear Mother will approve
• 120 My pride, and let me speak.

• ‘Herself shall bring us, hand in hand,
• To him round whom all souls
• Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads
• Bowed with their aureoles:
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• And angels meeting us shall sing
• To their citherns and citoles.

• ‘There will I ask of Christ the Lord
• Thus much for him and me:—
• Only to live as once on earth
• 130 With Love,—only to be,
• As then awhile, for ever now
• Together, I and he.’

• She gazed and listened and then said,
• Less sad of speech than mild,—
• ‘All this is when he comes.’ She ceased.
• The light thrilled towards her, fill'd
• With angels in strong level flight.
• Her eyes prayed, and she smil'd.

• (I saw her smile.) But soon their path
• 140 Was vague in distant spheres:
• And then she cast her arms along
• The golden barriers,
• And laid her face between her hands,
• And wept. (I heard her tears.)

   

• ‘Why did you melt your waxen man,
• Sister Helen?
• To-day is the third since you began.’
• ‘The time was long, yet the time ran,
• Little brother.’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Three days to-day, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘But if you have done your work aright,
• Sister Helen,
• 10You'll let me play, for you said I might.’
• ‘Be very still in your play to-night,
• Little brother.’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Third night, to-night, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘You said it must melt ere vesper-bell,
• Sister Helen;
• If now it be molten, all is well.’
• ‘Even so,—nay, peace! you cannot tell,
• Little brother.’
• 20 ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• O what is this, between Hell and Heaven?)

• ‘Oh the waxen knave was plump to-day,
• Sister Helen;
• How like dead folk he has dropped away!’
• ‘Nay now, of the dead what can you say,
• Little brother?’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• What of the dead, between Hell and Heaven?)

• ‘See, see, the sunken pile of wood,
• 30 Sister Helen,
• Shines through the thinned wax red as blood!’
• ‘Nay now, when looked you yet on blood,
• Little brother?’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• How pale she is, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘Now close your eyes, for they're sick and sore,
• Sister Helen,
• And I'll play without the gallery door.’
• ‘Aye, let me rest,—I'll lie on the floor,
• 40 Little brother.’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• What rest to-night, between Hell and Heaven?)

• ‘Here high up in the balcony,
• Sister Helen,
• The moon flies face to face with me.’
• ‘Aye, look and say whatever you see,
• Little brother.’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• What sight to-night, between Hell and Heaven?)

• 50‘Outside it's merry in the wind's wake,
• Sister Helen;
• In the shaken trees the chill stars shake.’
• ‘Hush, heard you a horse-tread as you spake,
• Little brother?’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• What sound to-night, between Hell and Heaven?)

• ‘I hear a horse-tread, and I see,
• Sister Helen,
• Three horsemen that ride terribly.’
• 60‘Little brother, whence come the three,
• Little brother?’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Whence should they come, between Hell and Heaven?)

• ‘They come by the hill-verge from Boyne Bar,
• Sister Helen,
• And one draws nigh, but two are afar.’
• ‘Look, look, do you know them who they are,
• Little brother?’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• 70 Who should they be, between Hell and Heaven?)

• ‘Oh, it's Keith of Eastholm rides so fast,
• Sister Helen,
• For I know the white mane on the blast.’
• ‘The hour has come, has come at last,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Her hour at last, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘He has made a sign and called Halloo!
• Sister Helen,
• 80And he says that he would speak with you.’
• ‘Oh tell him I fear the frozen dew,
• Little brother.’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Why laughs she thus, between Hell and Heaven?)

• ‘The wind is loud, but I hear him cry,
• Sister Helen,
• That Keith of Ewern's like to die.’
• ‘And he and thou, and thou and I,
• Little brother.’
• 90 ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• And they and we, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘Three days ago, on his marriage-morn,
• Sister Helen,
• He sickened, and lies since then forlorn.’
• ‘For bridegroom's side is the bride a thorn,
• Little brother?’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Cold bridal cheer, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘Three days and nights he has lain abed,
• 100 Sister Helen,
• And he prays in torment to be dead.’
• ‘The thing may chance, if he have prayed,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• If he have prayed, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘But he has not ceased to cry to-day,
• Sister Helen,
• That you should take your curse away.’
• ‘ My prayer was heard,—he need but pray,
• 110 Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Shall God not hear, between Hell and Heaven?)

• ‘But he says, till you take back your ban,
• Sister Helen,
• His soul would pass, yet never can.’
• ‘Nay then, shall I slay a living man,
• Little brother?’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• A living soul, between Hell and Heaven!)

• 120‘But he calls for ever on your name,
• Sister Helen,
• And says that he melts before a flame.’
• ‘My heart for his pleasure fared the same,
• Little brother.’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Fire at the heart, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘Here's Keith of Westholm riding fast,
• Sister Helen,
• For I know the white plume on the blast.’
• 130‘The hour, the sweet hour I forecast,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Is the hour sweet, between Hell and Heaven?)

• ‘He stops to speak, and he stills his horse,
• Sister Helen;
• But his words are drowned in the wind's course.’
• ‘Nay hear, nay hear, you must hear perforce,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• 140 What word now heard, between Hell and Heaven?)

• ‘Oh he says that Keith of Ewern's cry,
• Sister Helen,
• Is ever to see you ere he die.’
• ‘In all that his soul sees, there am I,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• The soul's one sight, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘He sends a ring and a broken coin,
• Sister Helen,
• 150And bids you mind the banks of Boyne.’
• ‘What else he broke will he ever join,
• Little brother?’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• No, never joined, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘He yields you these and craves full fain,
• Sister Helen,
• You pardon him in his mortal pain.’
• ‘What else he took will he give again,
• Little brother?’
• 160 ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Not twice to give, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘He calls your name in an agony,
• Sister Helen,
• That even dead Love must weep to see.’
• ‘Hate, born of Love, is blind as he,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Love turned to hate, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘Oh it's Keith of Keith now that rides fast,
• 170 Sister Helen,
• For I know the white hair on the blast.’
• ‘The short short hour will soon be past,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Will soon be past, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘He looks at me and he tries to speak,
• Sister Helen,
• But oh! his voice is sad and weak!’
• ‘What here should the mighty Baron seek,
• 180 Little brother?’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Is this the end, between Hell and Heaven?)

• ‘Oh his son still cries, if you forgive,
• Sister Helen,
• The body dies but the soul shall live.’
• ‘Fire shall forgive me as I forgive,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• As she forgives, between Hell and Heaven!)

• 190‘Oh he prays you, as his heart would rive,
• Sister Helen,
• To save his dear son's soul alive.’
• Fire cannot slay it, it shall thrive,
• Little brother!
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Alas, alas, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘He cries to you, kneeling in the road,
• Sister Helen,
• To go with him for the love of God!’
• 200‘The way is long to his son's abode,
• Little brother.’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• The way is long, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘A lady's here, by a dark steed brought,
• Sister Helen,
• So darkly clad, I saw her not.’
• ‘See her now or never see aught,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• 210 What more to see, between Hell and Heaven?)

• ‘Her hood falls back, and the moon shines fair,
• Sister Helen,
• On the Lady of Ewern's golden hair.’
• ‘Blest hour of my power and her despair,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Hour blest and bann'd, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘Pale, pale her cheeks, that in pride did glow,
• Sister Helen,
• 220'Neath the bridal-wreath three days ago.’
• ‘One morn for pride and three days for woe,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Three days, three nights, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘Her clasped hands stretch from her bending head,
• Sister Helen;
• With the loud wind's wail her sobs are wed.’
• ‘What wedding-strains hath her bridal-bed,
• Little brother?’
• 230 ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• What strain but death's, between Hell and Heaven?)

• ‘She may not speak, she sinks in a swoon,
• Sister Helen,—
• She lifts her lips and gasps on the moon.’
• ‘Oh! might I but hear her soul's blithe tune,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Her woe's dumb cry, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘They've caught her to Westholm's saddle-bow,
• 240 Sister Helen,
• And her moonlit hair gleams white in its flow.’
• ‘Let it turn whiter than winter snow,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Woe-withered gold, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘O Sister Helen, you heard the bell,
• Sister Helen!
• More loud than the vesper-chime it fell.’
• ‘No vesper-chime, but a dying knell,
• 250 Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• His dying knell, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘Alas! but I fear the heavy sound,
• Sister Helen;
• Is it in the sky or in the ground?’
• ‘Say, have they turned their horses round,
• Little brother?’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• What would she more, between Hell and Heaven?)

• 260 ‘They have raised the old man from his knee,
• Sister Helen,
• And they ride in silence hastily.’
• ‘More fast the naked soul doth flee,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• The naked soul, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘Flank to flank are the three steeds gone,
• Sister Helen,
• But the lady's dark steed goes alone.’
• 270 ‘And lonely her bridegroom's soul hath flown,
• Little brother.’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• The lonely ghost, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘Oh the wind is sad in the iron chill,
• Sister Helen,
• And weary sad they look by the hill.’
• ‘But he and I are sadder still,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• 280 Most sad of all, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘See, see, the wax has dropped from its place,
• Sister Helen,
• And the flames are winning up apace!’
• ‘Yet here they burn but for a space,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Here for a space, between Hell and Heaven!)

• ‘Ah! what white thing at the door has cross'd,
• Sister Helen?
• 290 Ah! what is this that sighs in the frost?’
• ‘A soul that's lost as mine is lost,
• Little brother!’
• ( O Mother, Mary Mother,
• Lost, lost, all lost, between Hell and Heaven!)

   

• ‘O have you seen the Stratton flood
• That's great with rain to-day?
• It runs beneath your wall, Lord Sands,
• Full of the new-mown hay.

• ‘I led your hounds to Hutton bank
• To bathe at early morn:
• They got their bath by Borrowbrake
• Above the standing corn.’

• Out from the castle-stair Lord Sands
• 10 Looked up the western lea;
• The rook was grieving on her nest,
• The flood was round her tree.

• Over the castle-wall Lord Sands
• Looked down the eastern hill:
• The stakes swam free among the boats,
• The flood was rising still.

• ‘What's yonder far below that lies
• So white against the slope?’
• ‘O it's a sail o' your bonny barks
• 20 The waters have washed up.’

• ‘But I have never a sail so white,
• And the water's not yet there.’
• ‘O it's the swans o' your bonny lake
• The rising flood doth scare.’

• ‘The swans they would not hold so still,
• So high they would not win.’
• ‘O it's Joyce my wife has spread her smock
• And fears to fetch it in.’

• ‘Nay, knave, it's neither sail nor swans,
• 30 Nor aught that you can say;
• For though your wife might leave her smock,
• Herself she'd bring away.’

• Lord Sands has passed the turret-stair,
• The court, and yard, and all;
• The kine were in the byre that day,
• The nags were in the stall.

• Lord Sands has won the weltering slope
• Whereon the white shape lay:
• The clouds were still above the hill,
• 40 And the shape was still as they.

• Oh pleasant is the gaze of life
• And sad is death's blind head;
• But awful are the living eyes
• In the face of one thought dead!

• ‘In God's name, Janet, is it me
• Thy ghost has come to seek?’
• ‘Nay, wait another hour, Lord Sands,—
• Be sure my ghost shall speak.’

• A moment stood he as a stone,
• 50 Then grovelled to his knee.
• ‘O Janet, O my love, my love,
• Rise up and come with me!’
• ‘O once before you bade me come,
• And it's here you have brought me!

• ‘O many's the sweet word, Lord Sands,
• You've spoken oft to me;
• But all that I have from you to-day
• Is the rain on my body.

• ‘And many's the good gift, Lord Sands,
• 60 You've promised oft to me;
• But the gift of yours I keep to-day
• Is the babe in my body.

• ‘O it's not in any earthly bed
• That first my babe I'll see;
• For I have brought my body here
• That the flood may cover me.’

• His face was close against her face,
• His hands of hers were fain:
• O her wet cheeks were hot with tears,
• 70 Her wet hands cold with rain.

• ‘They told me you were dead, Janet,—
• How could I guess the lie?’
• ‘They told me you were false, Lord Sands,—
• What could I do but die?’

• ‘Now keep you well, my brother Giles,—
• Through you I deemed her dead!
• As wan as your towers seem to-day,
• To-morrow they'll be red.

• ‘Look down, look down, my false mother,
• 80 That bade me not to grieve:
• You'll look up when our marriage fires
• Are lit to-morrow eve.

• ‘O more than one and more than two
• The sorrow of this shall see:
• But it's to-morrow, love, for them,—
• To-day's for thee and me.’

• He's drawn her face between his hands
• And her pale mouth to his:
• No bird that was so still that day
• 90 Chirps sweeter than his kiss.

• The flood was creeping round their feet.
• ‘O Janet, come away!
• The hall is warm for the marriage-rite,
• The bed for the birthday.’

• ‘Nay, but I hear your mother cry,
• “Go bring this bride to bed!
• And would she christen her babe unborn
• So wet she comes to wed?”

• ‘I'll be your wife to cross your door
• 100 And meet your mother's e'e.
• We plighted troth to wed i' the kirk,
• And it's there you'll wed with me.’

• He's ta'en her by the short girdle
• And by the dripping sleeve:
• ‘Go fetch Sir Jock my mother's priest,—
• You'll ask of him no leave.

• ‘O it's one half-hour to reach the kirk
• And one for the marriage-rite;
• And kirk and castle and castle-lands
• 110 Shall be our babe's to-night.’

• ‘The flood's in the kirkyard, Lord Sands,
• And round the belfry-stair.’
• ‘I bade you fetch the priest,’ he said,
• ‘Myself shall bring him there.

• ‘It's for the lilt of wedding bells
• We'll have the hail to pour,
• And for the clink of bridle-reins
• The plashing of the oar.

• Beneath them on the nether hill
• 120 A boat was floating wide:
• Lord Sands swam out and caught the oars
• And rowed to the hill-side.

• He's wrapped her in a green mantle
• And set her softly in;
• Her hair was wet upon her face,
• Her face was grey and thin;
• And ‘Oh!’ she said, ‘lie still, my babe,
• It's out you must not win!’

• But woe's my heart for Father John
• 130 As hard as he might pray,
• There seemed no help but Noah's ark
• Or Jonah's fish that day.

• The first strokes that the oars struck
• Were over the broad leas;
• The next strokes that the oars struck
• They pushed beneath the trees;

• The last stroke that the oars struck,
• The good boat's head was met,
• And there the gate of the kirkyard
• 140 Stood like a ferry-gate.

• He's set his hand upon the bar
• And lightly leaped within:
• He's lifted her to his left shoulder,
• Her knees beside his chin.

• The graves lay deep beneath the flood
• Under the rain alone;
• And when the foot-stone made him slip,
• He held by the head-stone.

• The empty boat thrawed i' the wind,
• 150 Against the postern tied.
• ‘Hold still, you've brought my love with me,
• You shall take back my bride.’

• But woe's my heart for Father John
• And the saints he clamoured to!
• There's never a saint but Christopher
• Might hale such buttocks through!

• And ‘Oh!’ she said, ‘on men's shoulders
• I well had thought to wend,
• And well to travel with a priest,
• 160 But not to have cared or ken'd.

• ‘And oh!’ she said, ‘it's well this way
• That I thought to have fared,—
• Not to have lighted at the kirk
• But stopped in the kirkyard.

• ‘For it's oh and oh I prayed to God,
• Whose rest I hoped to win,
• That when to-night at your board-head
• You'd bid the feast begin,
• This water past your window-sill
• 170 Might bear my body in.’

• Now make the white bed warm and soft
• And greet the merry morn.
• The night the mother should have died,
• The young son shall be born.

   

• ‘Who rules these lands?’ the Pilgrim said.
• ‘Stranger, Queen Blanchelys.’
• ‘And who has thus harried them?’ he said.
• ‘It was Duke Luke did this:
• God's ban be his!’

• The Pilgrim said: ‘Where is your house?
• I'll rest there, with your will.’
• ‘You've but to climb these blackened boughs
• And you'll see it over the hill,
• 10 For it burns still.’

• ‘Which road, to seek your Queen?’ said he.
• ‘Nay, nay, but with some wound
• You'll fly back hither, it may be,
• And by your blood i' the ground
• My place be found.’

• ‘Friend, stay in peace. God keep your head,
• And mine, where I will go;
• For He is here and there,’ he said.
• He passed the hill-side, slow,
• 20 And stood below.

• The Queen sat idle by her loom:
• She heard the arras stir,
• And looked up sadly: through the room
• The sweetness sickened her
• Of musk and myrrh.

• Her women, standing two and two,
• In silence combed the fleece.
• The Pilgrim said, ‘Peace be with you,
• Lady;’ and bent his knees.
• 30 She answered, ‘Peace.’

• Her eyes were like the wave within;
• Like water-reeds the poise
• Of her soft body, dainty thin;
• And like the water's noise
• Her plaintive voice.

• For him, the stream had never well'd
• In desert tracts malign
• So sweet; nor had he ever felt
• So faint in the sunshine
• 40 Of Palestine.

• Right so, he knew that he saw weep
• Each night through every dream
• The Queen's own face, confused in sleep
• With visages supreme
• Not known to him.

• ‘Lady,’ he said, ‘your lands lie burnt
• And waste: to meet your foe
• All fear: this I have seen and learnt.
• Say that it shall be so,
• 50 And I will go.’

• She gazed at him. ‘Your cause is just,
• For I have heard the same:’
• He said: ‘God's strength shall be my trust.
• Fall it to good or grame,
• 'Tis in His name.’

• ‘Sir, you are thanked. My cause is dead.
• Why should you toil to break
• A grave, and fall therein?’ she said.
• He did not pause but spake:
• 60 ‘For my vow's sake.’

• ‘Can such vows be, Sir—to God's ear,
• Not to God's will?’ ‘My vow
• Remains: God heard me there as here,’
• He said with reverent brow,
• ‘Both then and now.’

• They gazed together, he and she,
• The minute while he spoke;
• And when he ceased, she suddenly
• Looked round upon her folk
• 70 As though she woke.

• ‘Fight, Sir,’ she said; ‘my prayers in pain
• Shall be your fellowship.’
• He whispered one among her train,—
• ‘To-morrow bid her keep
• This staff and scrip.’

• She sent him a sharp sword, whose belt
• About his body there
• As sweet as her own arms he felt.
• He kissed its blade, all bare,
• 80 Instead of her.

• She sent him a green banner wrought
• With one white lily stem,
• To bind his lance with when he fought.
• He writ upon the same
• And kissed her name.

• She sent him a white shield, whereon
• She bade that he should trace
• His will. He blent fair hues that shone,
• And in a golden space
• 90 He kissed her face.

• Born of the day that died, that eve
• Now dying sank to rest;
• As he, in likewise taking leave,
• Once with a heaving breast
• Looked to the west.

• And there the sunset skies unseal'd,
• Like lands he never knew,
• Beyond to-morrow's battle-field
• Lay open out of view
• 100 To ride into.

• Next day till dark the women pray'd:
• Nor any might know there
• How the fight went: the Queen has bade
• That there do come to her
• No messenger.

• The Queen is pale, her maidens ail;
• And to the organ-tones
• They sing but faintly, who sang well
• The matin-orisons,
• 110 The lauds and nones.

• Lo, Father, is thine ear inclin'd,
• And hath thine angel pass'd?
• For these thy watchers now are blind
• With vigil, and at last
• Dizzy with fast.