Poems By the Way Part 13

He burnt the harvests many a time, He made fair houses heaps of lime; Whatso man loved wife or maid Of Evil-head was sore afraid.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

He slew good men and spared the bad; Too long a day the foul dog had, E'en as all dogs will have their day; But G.o.d is as strong as man, I say.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

For a valiant knight, men called Boncoeur, Had hope he should not long endure, And gathered to him much good folk, Hardy hearts to break the yoke.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

But Boncoeur deemed it would be vain To strive his guarded house to gain; Therefore, within a little while, He set himself to work by guile.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

He knew that Maltete loved right well Red gold and heavy. If from h.e.l.l The Devil had cried, "Take this gold cup,"

Down had he gone to fetch it up.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

Twenty poor men's lives were nought To him, beside a ring well wrought.

The pommel of his hunting-knife Was worth ten times a poor man's life.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

A squire new-come from over-sea Boncoeur called to him privily, And when he knew his lord's intent, Clad like a churl therefrom he went.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

But when he came where dwelt Maltete, With few words did he pa.s.s the gate, For Maltete built him walls anew, And, wageless, folk from field he drew.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

Now pa.s.sed the squire through this and that, Till he came to where Sir Maltete sat, And over red wine wagged his beard: Then spoke the squire as one afeard.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

"Lord, give me grace, for privily I have a little word for thee."

"Speak out," said Maltete, "have no fear, For how can thy life to thee be dear?"

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

"Such an one I know," he said, "Who hideth store of money red."

Maltete grinned at him cruelly: "Thou florin-maker, come anigh."

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

"E'en such as thou once preached of gold, And showed me lies in books full old, Nought gat I but evil bra.s.s, Therefore came he to the worser pa.s.s.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

"Hast thou will to see his skin?

I keep my heaviest marks therein, For since nought else of wealth had he, I deemed full well he owed it me."

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

"Nought know I of philosophy,"

The other said, "nor do I lie.

Before the moon begins to s.h.i.+ne, May all this heap of gold be thine."

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

"Ten leagues from this a man there is, Who seemeth to know but little bliss, And yet full many a pound of gold A dry well nigh his house doth hold.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

"John-a-Wood is he called, fair lord, Nor know I whence he hath this h.o.a.rd."

Then Maltete said, "As G.o.d made me, A wizard over-bold is he!"

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

"It were a good deed, as I am a knight, To burn him in a fire bright; This John-a-Wood shall surely die, And his gold in my strong chest shall lie.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

"This very night, I make mine avow, The truth of this mine eyes shall know."

Then spoke an old knight in the hall, "Who knoweth what things may befall?"

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

"I rede thee go with a great rout, For thy foes they ride thick about."

"Thou and the devil may keep my foes, Thou redest me this gold to lose.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_."

"I shall go with but some four or five, So shall I take my thief alive.

For if a great rout he shall see, Will he not hide his wealth from me?"

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

The old knight muttered under his breath, "Then mayhap ye shall but ride to death."

But Maltete turned him quickly round, "Bind me this gray-beard under ground!

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

"Because ye are old, ye think to j.a.pe.

Take heed, ye shall not long escape.

When I come back safe, old carle, perdie, Thine head shall brush the linden-tree."

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

Therewith he rode with his five men, And Boncoeur's spy, for good leagues ten, Until they left the beaten way, And dusk it grew at end of day.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

There, in a clearing of the wood, Was John's house, neither fair nor good.

In a ragged plot his house anigh, Thin coleworts grew but wretchedly.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

John-a-Wood in his doorway sat, Turning over this and that, And chiefly how he best might thrive, For he had will enough to live.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

Green coleworts from a wooden bowl He ate; but careful was his soul, For if he saw another day, Thenceforth was he in Boncoeur's pay.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.

So when he saw how Maltete came, He said, "Beginneth now the game!"

And in the doorway did he stand Trembling, with hand joined fast to hand.

_Deus est Deus pauperum_.