The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems Part 16

And as I sit here, close at hand Four spikes of sad sick sunflowers stand; The castellan with a long wand Cuts down their leaves as he goes by, Ponderingly, with screw'd-up eye, And fingers twisted in his beard.

Nay, was it a knight's shout I heard?

I have a hope makes me afeard: It cannot be, but if some dream Just for a minute made me deem I saw among the flowers there My lady's face with long red hair, Pale, ivory-colour'd dear face come, As I was wont to see her some Fading September afternoon, And kiss me, saying nothing, soon To leave me by myself again; Could I get this by longing? vain!

The castellan is gone: I see On one broad yellow flower a bee Drunk with much honey.

Christ! again, Some distant knight's voice brings me pain, I thought I had forgot to feel, I never heard the blissful steel These ten years past; year after year, Through all my hopeless sojourn here, No Christian pennon has been near.

Laus Deo! the dragging wind draws on Over the marshes, battle won, Knights' shouts, and axes hammering; Yea, quicker now the dint and ring Of flying hoofs; ah, castellan, When they come back count man for man, Say whom you miss.

THE PAGANS, _from the battlements_.

Mahound to aid!

Why flee ye so like men dismay'd?

THE PAGANS, _from without_.

Nay, haste! for here is Launcelot, Who follows quick upon us, hot And shouting with his men-at-arms.

SIR GUY.

Also the Pagans raise alarms, And ring the bells for fear; at last My prison walls will be well past.

SIR LAUNCELOT, _from outside_.

Ho! in the name of the Trinity, Let down the drawbridge quick to me, And open doors, that I may see Guy the good knight!

THE PAGANS, _from the battlements_.

Nay, Launcelot, With mere big words ye win us not.

SIR LAUNCELOT.

Bid Miles bring up la perriere, And archers clear the vile walls there.

Bring back the notches to the ear, Shoot well together! G.o.d to aid!

These miscreants will be well paid.

Hurrah! all goes together; Miles Is good to win my lady's smiles For his good shooting: Launcelot!

On knights apace! this game is hot!

SIR GUY _sayeth afterwards_.

I said, I go to meet her now, And saying so, I felt a blow From some clench'd hand across my brow, And fell down on the sunflowers Just as a hammering smote my ears; After which this I felt in sooth, My bare hands throttling without ruth The hairy-throated castellan; Then a grim fight with those that ran To slay me, while I shouted: G.o.d For the Lady Mary! deep I trod That evening in my own red blood; Nevertheless so stiff I stood, That when the knights burst the old wood Of the castle-doors, I was not dead.

I kiss the Lady Mary's head, Her lips, and her hair golden red, Because to-day we have been wed.

OLD LOVE

You must be very old, Sir Giles, I said; he said: Yea, very old!

Whereat the mournfullest of smiles Creased his dry skin with many a fold.

They hammer'd out my basnet point Into a round salade, he said, The basnet being quite out of joint, Natheless the salade rasps my head.

He gazed at the great fire awhile: And you are getting old, Sir John; (He said this with that cunning smile That was most sad) we both wear on;

Knights come to court and look at me, With eyebrows up; except my lord, And my dear lady, none I see That know the ways of my old sword.

(My lady! at that word no pang Stopp'd all my blood). But tell me, John, Is it quite true that Pagans hang So thick about the east, that on

The eastern sea no Venice flag Can fly unpaid for? True, I said, And in such way the miscreants drag Christ's cross upon the ground, I dread

That Constantine must fall this year.

Within my heart, these things are small; This is not small, that things outwear I thought were made for ever, yea, all,

All things go soon or late, I said.

I saw the duke in court next day; Just as before, his grand great head Above his gold robes dreaming lay,

Only his face was paler; there I saw his d.u.c.h.ess sit by him; And she, she was changed more; her hair Before my eyes that used to swim,

And make me dizzy with great bliss Once, when I used to watch her sit, Her hair is bright still, yet it is As though some dust were thrown on it.

Her eyes are shallower, as though Some grey gla.s.s were behind; her brow And cheeks the straining bones show through, Are not so good for kissing now.

Her lips are drier now she is A great duke's wife these many years, They will not shudder with a kiss As once they did, being moist with tears.

Also her hands have lost that way Of clinging that they used to have; They look'd quite easy, as they lay Upon the silken cus.h.i.+ons brave

With broidery of the apples green My Lord Duke bears upon his s.h.i.+eld.

Her face, alas! that I have seen Look fresher than an April field,

This is all gone now; gone also Her tender walking; when she walks She is most queenly I well know, And she is fair still. As the stalks

Of faded summer-lilies are, So is she grown now unto me This spring-time, when the flowers star The meadows, birds sing wonderfully.

I warrant once she used to cling About his neck, and kiss'd him so, And then his coming step would ring Joy-bells for her; some time ago.

Ah! sometimes like an idle dream That hinders true life overmuch, Sometimes like a lost heaven, these seem.

This love is not so hard to s.m.u.tch.

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 giroflee._