The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems Part 24

He had a coat of fine red gold, And a bascinet of steel; Take note his goodly Collayne sword Smote the spur upon his heel.

And by his side, on a grey jennet, There rode a fair lady, For every ruby Ellayne wore, I count she carried three.

Say, was not Ellayne's gold hair fine, That fell to her middle free?

But that lady's hair down in the street, Fell lower than her knee.

Fair Ellayne's face, from sorrow and grief, Was waxen pale and green: That lady's face was goodly red, She had but little tene.

But as he pa.s.s'd by her window He grew a little wroth: O, why does yon pale face look at me From out the golden cloth?

It is some burd, the fair dame said, That aye rode him beside, Has come to see your bonny face This merry summer-tide.

But Ellayne let a lily-flower Light on his cap of steel: O, I have gotten two hounds, fair knight, The one has served me well;

But the other, just an hour agone, Has come from over sea, And all his fell is sleek and fine, But little he knows of me.

Now, which shall I let go, fair knight, And which shall bide with me?

O, lady, have no doubt to keep The one that best loveth thee.

O, Robert, see how sick I am!

Ye do not so by me.

Lie still, fair love, have ye gotten harm While I was on the sea?

Of one gift, Robert, that ye gave, I sicken to the death, I pray you nurse-tend me, my knight, Whiles that I have my breath.

Six fathoms from the Stamford bridge He left that dame to stand, And whiles she wept, and whiles she cursed That she ever had taken land.

He has kiss'd sweet Ellayne on the mouth, And fair she fell asleep, And long and long days after that Sir Robert's house she did keep.

RIDING TOGETHER

For many, many days together The wind blew steady from the East; For many days hot grew the weather, About the time of our Lady's Feast.

For many days we rode together, Yet met we neither friend nor foe; Hotter and clearer grew the weather, Steadily did the East wind blow.

We saw the trees in the hot, bright weather, Clear-cut, with shadows very black, As freely we rode on together With helms unlaced and bridles slack.

And often as we rode together, We, looking down the green-bank'd stream, Saw flowers in the sunny weather, And saw the bubble-making bream.

And in the night lay down together, And hung above our heads the rood, Or watch'd night-long in the dewy weather, The while the moon did watch the wood.

Our spears stood bright and thick together, Straight out the banners stream'd behind, As we gallop'd on in the sunny weather, With faces turn'd towards the wind.

Down sank our threescore spears together, As thick we saw the pagans ride; His eager face in the clear fresh weather, Shone out that last time by my side.

Up the sweep of the bridge we dash'd together, It rock'd to the crash of the meeting spears, Down rain'd the buds of the dear spring weather, The elm-tree flowers fell like tears.

There, as we roll'd and writhed together, I threw my arms above my head, For close by my side, in the lovely weather, I saw him reel and fall back dead.

I and the slayer met together, He waited the death-stroke there in his place, With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather, Gapingly mazed at my madden'd face.

Madly I fought as we fought together; In vain: the little Christian band The pagans drown'd, as in stormy weather, The river drowns low-lying land.

They bound my blood-stain'd hands together, They bound his corpse to nod by my side: Then on we rode, in the bright March weather, With clash of cymbals did we ride.

We ride no more, no more together; My prison-bars are thick and strong, I take no heed of any weather, The sweet Saints grant I live not long.

FATHER JOHN'S WAR-SONG

THE REAPERS.

So many reapers, Father John, So many reapers and no little son, To meet you when the day is done, With little stiff legs to waddle and run?

Pray you beg, borrow, or steal one son.

Hurrah for the corn-sheaves of Father John!

FATHER JOHN.

O maiden Mary, be wary, be wary!

And go not down to the river, Lest the kingfisher, your evil wisher, Lure you down to the river, Lest your white feet grow muddy, Your red hair too ruddy With the river-mud so red; But when you are wed Go down to the river.

O maiden Mary, be very wary, And dwell among the corn!

See, this dame Alice, maiden Mary, Her hair is thin and white, But she is a housewife good and wary, And a great steel key hangs bright From her gown, as red as the flowers in corn; She is good and old like the autumn corn.

MAIDEN MARY.

This is knight Roland, Father John, Stark in his arms from a field half-won; Ask him if he has seen your son: Roland, lay your sword on the corn, The piled-up sheaves of the golden corn.

KNIGHT ROLAND.

Why does she kiss me, Father John?

She is my true love truly won!

Under my helm is room for one, But the molten lead-streams trickle and run From my roof-tree, burning under the sun; No corn to burn, we had eaten the corn, There was no waste of the golden corn.

FATHER JOHN.

Ho, you reapers, away from the corn, To march with the banner of Father John!

THE REAPERS.

We will win a house for Roland his son, And for maiden Mary with hair like corn, As red as the reddest of golden corn.

OMNES.