The Poetical Works of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart. M.P Part 25

If human love hath yet been thine, Farewell,--our laws forbid thee mine.

The Children of the Star and Song, We may but bless the Pure!"

"Dream--lovelier far than e'er, I ween, Entranced the glorious Merlin's eyes-- Through childhood, to this happiest hour, All free from human Beauty's power, My heart unresting still hath been A prophet in its sighs.

"Though never living shape hath brought Sweet love, that second life, to me, Yet over earth, and through the heaven, The thoughts that pined for love were driven:-- I see thee--and I feel I sought Through Earth and Heaven for thee!"

PART II.

Ask not the Bard to lift the veil That hides the Fairy's bridal bower; If thou art young, go seek the glade, And win thyself some fairy maid; And rosy lips shall tell the tale In some enchanted hour.

"Farewell!" as by the greenwood tree, The Fairy clasp'd the Mortal's hand-- "Our laws forbid thee to delay-- Not ours the life of every day!-- And Man, alas! may rarely be The Guest of Fairy-land.

"Back to thy Prince's halls depart, The stateliest of his stately train: Henceforth thy wish shall be thy mine-- Each toy that gold can purchase, thine-- A fairy's coffers are the heart A mortal cannot drain."

"Talk not of wealth--that dream is o'er!-- These sunny looks be all my gold!"

"Nay! if in courts thy thoughts can stray Along the fairy-forest way, Wish but to see thy bride once more-- Thy bride thou shalt behold.

"Yet hear the law on which must rest Thy union with thine elfin bride; If ever by a word--a tone-- Thou mak'st our tender secret known, The spell will vanish from thy breast-- The Fairy from thy side.

"If thou but boast to mortal ear The meanest charm thou find'st in me, If"--here his lips the sweet lips seal, Low-murmuring, "Love can ne'er reveal-- It cannot breathe to mortal ear The charms it finds in thee!"

PART III.

High joust, by Carduel's ancient town, The Kingly Arthur holds to-day; Around their Queen; in glittering row, The Starry Hosts of Beauty glow.

Smile down, ye stars, on his renown Who bears the wreath away!

O chiefs who gird the Table Round-- O war-gems of that wondrous ring!-- Where lives the man to match the might That lifts to song your meanest knight, Who sees, preside on Glory's ground, His Lady and his King?

What prince as from some throne afar, s.h.i.+nes onward--s.h.i.+ning up the throng?

Broider'd with pearls, his mantle's fold Flows o'er the mail emboss'd with gold; As rides, from cloud to cloud, a star, The Bright One rode along!

Twice fifty stalwart Squires, in air The stranger's knightly pennon bore; Twice fifty Pages, pacing slow, Scatter his largess as they go; Calm through the crowd he pa.s.s'd, and, there, Rein'd in the Lists before.

Light question in those elder days The heralds made of birth and name.

Enough to wear the spurs of gold, To share the pastime of the bold.

"Forwards!" their wands the Heralds raise, And in the Lists he came.

Now rouse thee, rouse thee, bold Gawaine!

Think of thy Lady's eyes above; Now rouse thee for thy Queen's sweet sake, Thou peerless Lancelot of the Lake!

Vain Gawaine's might, and Lancelot's vain!-- _They_ know no Fairy's love.

Before him swells the joyous tromp, He comes--the victor's wreath is won!

Low to his Queen Sir Elvar kneels, The helm no more his face conceals; And one pale form amidst the pomp, Sobs forth--"My gallant son!"

PART IV.

Sir Elvar is the fairest knight That ever lured a lady's glance; Sir Elvar is the wealthiest lord That sits at good King Arthur's board; The bravest in the joust or fight, The lightest in the dance.

And never love, methinks, so blest As his, this weary world has known; For, every night before his eyes, The charms that ne'er can fade arise-- A star unseen by all the rest-- A Life for him alone.

And yet Sir Elvar is not blest-- He walks apart with brows of gloom-- "The meanest knight in Arthur's hall His lady-love may tell to all; He shows the flower that glads his breast-- His pride to boast its bloom!

"And I who clasp the fairest form That e'er to man's embrace was given, Must hide the gift as if in shame!

What boots a prize we dare not name?

The sun must s.h.i.+ne if it would warm-- A cloud is all my heaven!"

Much proud Genevra[C] marvell'd, how A knight so fair should seem so cold; What if a love for hope too high, Has chain'd the lip and awed the eye?

A second joust--and surely now The secret shall be told.

For, _there_, alone shall ride the brave Whose glory dwells in Beauty's fame; Each, for his lady's honour, arms-- His lance the test of rival charms.

Joy unto him whom Beauty gave The right to gild her name!

Sir Lancelot burns to win the prize-- First in the Lists his s.h.i.+eld is seen; A sunflower for device he took-- "_Where'er thou s.h.i.+nest turns my look._"

So as he paced the Lists, his eyes Still sought the Sun--his Queen!

"And why, Sir Elvar, loiterest thou?-- Lives there no fair thy lance to claim?"

No answer Elvar made the King; Sullen he stood without the ring.

"Forwards!" An armed whirlwind now On horse and horseman came!

And down goes princely Caradoc-- Down Tristan and stout Agrafrayn,-- Unscath'd, alone, amidst the field, Great Lancelot bears his victor-s.h.i.+eld; The sunflower bright'ning through the shock, And through that iron rain.

"Sound, trumpets--sound!--to South and North!

I, Lancelot of the Lake, proclaim, That never sun and never air, Or shone or breathed on form so fair As hers--thrice, trumpets, sound it forth!-- Our Arthur's royal dame!"

And South and North, and West and East, Upon the thunder-blast it flies!

Still on his steed sits Lancelot, And even echo answers not; Till, as the stormy challenge ceased, A voice was heard--"He lies!"

All turn'd their mute, astonish'd gaze, To where the daring answer came, And lo! Sir Elvar's haughty crest!-- Fierce on the knight the gazers press'd;-- Their wands the sacred Heralds raise,-- Genevra weeps for shame.

"Sir Knight," King Arthur smiling said (In smiles a king should wrath disguise), "Know'st thou, in truth, a dame so fair, Our Queen may not with her compare?

Genevra, weep, and hide thy head-- Sir Lancelot, yield the prize."

"O, grace, my liege, for surely each The dame he serves should peerless hold, To loyal eye and faithful breast The loved one is the loveliest."

The King replied, "Not crafty speech-- Bold deeds--excuse the bold!

"So name thy fair, defend her right!

A list!--Ho Lancelot, guard thy s.h.i.+eld.

Her name?"--Sir Elvar's visage fell: "A vow forbids the name to tell."

"Now out upon the recreant Knight Who courts yet shuns the field!

"Foul shame, were royal name disgraced By some light leman's taunting smile!

Whoe'er--so run the tourney's laws-- Would break a lance in Beauty's cause, Must name the Highborn and the Chaste-- The nameless are the vile."

Sir Elvar glanced, where, stern and high, The scornful champion rein'd his steed; Where o'er the Lists the seats were raised, And jealous dames disdainful gazed, He glanced, nor caught one gentle eye-- Courts grow not friends at need:

"King! I have said, and keep my vow."