The Poetical Works of William Lisle Bowles Volume Ii Part 37

16 And who art thou, the porter cried, Young troubadour, now say, For welcome in the castle hall Will be to-night thy lay;

17 For this the birthday is of one, Whose father now is cold; An English maiden, rich in fee, And this year twelve years old.

18 I love, myself, now growing old, To hear the wild harp's sound: But whence, young harper, dost thou come, And whither art thou bound?

19 Though I am young, the harper said, From Syria's sands I come, A minstrel warrior of the Cross, Now poor and wandering home.

20 And I can tell of mighty deeds, By bold King Richard done, King Richard of "the Lion's heart,"

Foes quail to look upon.

21 Then lead me to the castle hall, And let the fire be bright, For never hall nor bower hath heard A lay like mine to-night.

22 The windows gleam within the hall, The fire is blazing bright, And the young harper's hair and harp Are s.h.i.+ning in the light.

23 Fair dames and warriors clad in steel Now gather round to hear, And oft that little maiden's eyes Are glistening with a tear.

24 For, when the minstrel sang of wars, At times, with softer sound, He touched the chords, as mourning those Now laid in the cold ground.

25 He sang how brave King Richard pined In a dark tower immured, And of the long and weary nights, A captive, he endured.

26 The faithful Blondel to his harp One song began to sing; It ceased; the king takes up the strain; It is his lord and king!

27 Of Sarum then, and Sarum's plain, That poor child heard him speak, When the first tear-drop in her eye Fell silent on her cheek.

28 For, as the minstrel told his tale, The breathless orphan maid Thought of the land where, in the grave, Her father's bones were laid.

29 Hush, hus.h.!.+ the winds are piping loud, The midnight hour is sped, The hours of morn are stealing fast, Harper, to bed! to bed!

PART SECOND.

1 The two long years had pa.s.sed away, When castle Galliard rose, As built at once by elfin hands, And scorning time or foes.[212]

2 It might be thought that Merlin's imps Were tasked to raise the wall, That unheard axes fell the woods, While unseen hammers fall.

3 As hung by magic on a rock, The castle-keep looked down O'er rocks and rivers, and the smoke Of many a far off town.

4 And now, young knights and minstrels gay Obeyed their masters' call, And loud rejoicing held the feast In the new raftered hall.

5 His minstrels and his mailed peers Were seated at the board, And at his side the highest sat William of the Long Sword.

6 This youthful knight, of princely birth, Was dazzling to behold, For his chain-mail from head to foot All glistened o'er with gold.

7 His surcoat dyed with azure blue In graceful foldings hung, And there the golden lions ramped, With b.l.o.o.d.y claws and tongue.

8 With crimson belt around his waist His sword was girded on; The hilt, a cross to kiss in death, Radiant with jewels shone.

9 The names and banners of each knight It were too long to tell; Here sat the brave Montgomery, There Bertrand and Rozell.

10 Of Richard's unresisted sword A n.o.ble minstrel sung, Whilst to an hundred answering harps The blazing gallery rung.

11 So all within was merriment-- When, suddenly, a shout, As of some unexpected guest, Burst from the crowd without.

12 Now not a sound, and scarce a breath, Through the long hall is heard, When, with a young maid by his side, A vizored knight appeared.

13 Up the long hall they held their way, On to the royal seat; Then both together, hand in hand, Knelt at King Richard's feet.

14 Talbot, a Talbot! rang the hall With gratulation wild, Long live brave Talbot,[213] and long live Earl William's new found child!

15 Amid a scene so new and strange, This poor maid could not speak; King Richard took her by the hand, And gently kissed her cheek;

16 Then placed her, smiling through a tear, By his brave brother's side: Long live brave Longspe! rang the hall, Long live his future bride!

17 To n.o.ble Richard, this fair child, His ward, was thus restored; Destined to be the future bride Of Him of the Long Sword.

THE ARK: A POEM FOR MUSIC.

MICHAEL, ARCHANGEL.

High on Imaus' solitary van, Which overlooked the kingdoms of the world, With stature more majestic, his stern brow In the clear light, the thunder at his feet; In his right hand the flaming sword that waved O'er Eden's gate; and in his left the trump, That on the day of doom shall sound and wake Earth's myriads, starting from the wormy grave, The great archangel stood: and, hark, his voice!

AIR.

It comes, it comes, o'er cities, temples, towers; O'er mountain heights I see the deluge sweep; Heard ye from earth the cry at that last hour?

Heard ye the tossing of the desert deep?

How dismal is its roar!

I heard the sound of mult.i.tudes no more.

Great Lord of heaven and earth, thy voice is fate; Thou canst destroy, as first thou didst create!

He stood and sounded the archangel's trump; And now a choir of seraphim drew near, By Raphael led: in sad and solemn strains, They raised their supplication to Heaven's throne.

CHORUS.

O Thou whose mighty voice, "Let there be light!"

Dread Chaos heard, when the great sun from night Burst forth, and demon shadows fled away, And the green earth sprang beautiful to day!

Oh! merciful in judgment, hear our prayer; Behold the world which Thou hast made so fair, And man the mourner, man the sinner, spare.

GABRIEL (RECITATIVE).

Oh! what a change have sin and sorrow made!

In the beginning, G.o.d created heaven And earth; and man, amid the works of G.o.d, Majestic stood, his n.o.blest creature, formed In G.o.d's own image; and his fair abode Was visited by seraph shapes of light, And sin and death were not.

TRIO.

Mourn, mourn, ye bowers Of paradise, ye pleasant hills and woods!