Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

THE LADYE'S BRYDALle.

"COME hither! come hither, my little foot-page,
And beare to my gaye Ladye

This ring of the good red gowde, and be sure
Rede well what she telleth to thee:

"And take tent, little page! if my Ladye's cheeke
Be with watching and weeping pale,

If her locks are unkempt, and her bonnie eyes red,
And come back and tell me thy tale.

"And marke, little page! when thou shewest the ringe,

If she snatcheth it hastilye

If the red bloode mount up her slender throate,

To her forehead of ivorye ;

"And take good heede, if for gladnesse or griefe, So chaungeth my Ladye's cheere

Thou shalt know bye her eyes-if their light laugh out Throwe the miste of a startynge tear ;

"(Like the summer sun throwe a morninge cloude)
There needeth no further token,

That my Ladye brighte, to her own true Knighte,
Hath keepit her faithe unbroken.

"Nowe ryde, little page! for the sun peeres out
Ower the rimme of the eastern heaven;

And back thou must bee, with thye tydinges to mee,
Ere the shadowe falles far at even.'

Awaye, and awaye! and he's far on his waye,
The little foot-page alreddye,

For he's back'd on his Lord's owne gallant graye,
That steede so fleete and steddye.

But the Knighte stands there lyke a charmed man,
Watchinge with ear and eye,

The clatteringe speed of his noble steede,

That swifte as the wynde doth flye.

But the wyndes and the lightninges are loiterers alle
To the glaunce of a luver's mynde ;

And Sir Alwynne, I trowe, had call'd Bonnybelle slowe,
Had her fleetnesse outstrippit the wynde.

Beseemed to him, that the sun once more
Had stayedde his course that daye—
Never sicke man longed for morninge lighte,
As Sir Alwynne for eueninge graye.

But the longest daye must end at last,
And the brightest sun must sette.

Where stayedde Sir Alwynue at peepe of dawne,
There at euen he stayedde him yette:

And he spyethe at laste- Not soe, not soe,
'Tis a smalle graye cloude, Sir Knighte,
That risethe up like a courser's head
On that border of gowden lighte."

"But harke! but harke! and I heare it now-
'Tis the cominge of Bonnybelle !"

"Not soe, Sir Knighte! from that rockye height 'Twas a clattering stone that felle."

"That slothfulle boy! but I'll thinke no more

[ocr errors]

Of him and his lagging jade to-daye :"

Righte, righte, Sir Knighte!"-" Nay, more, bye this lighte, Here comethe mye page, and mye gallante graye."

"Howe nowe, little page! ere thou lighteste downe,
Speake but one word out hastilye;

Little page, hast thou seen mye Ladye luve?
Hath mye Ladye keepit her faithe with mee?"-

"I've seen thy Ladye luve, Sir Knighte,

And welle hath she keepit her faithe with thee.""Lighte downe, lighte downe, mye trustye page; A berrye browne barbe shall thy guerdon bee.

"Tell on, tell on; was mye Ladye's cheeke
Pale as the lilye, or rosie red?

Did she putte the ringe on her finger smalle?
And what was the verye firste word she said ?"—

Pale was thy Ladye's cheeke, Sir Knighte,

Blent with no streake of the rosie red.

I put the ringe on her finger smalle ;

But there is no voice amongste the dead."—

There are torches hurrying to and froe

In Raeburne Tower to-nighte;

And the chapelle doth glowe withe lampes alsoe,
As if for a brydalle ryte.

But where is the bryde? and the brydegroome where?
And where is the holye prieste?

And where are the guestes that shoulde bidden bee,
To partake of the marriage feaste?

The bryde from her chamber descendeth nowe,
And the brydegroome her hand hath ta'en;
And the guestes are met, and the holye prieste
Precedeth the marriage traine.

The bryde is the faire Maude Winstanlye,
And death her sterne brydegroome;
And her father follows his onlye childe

To her mother's yawning tombe.

An aged man,

and a woefull man,

And a heavye moane makes hee:

Mye childe! mye childe! myne onlye childe !
Would God I had dyed for thee !"

An aged man, those white hairs telle,
And that bended back and knee;

Yet a stalwart knighte, at Tewkesburye fighte,
Was Sir Archibald Winstanlye..

'Tis a moving thing to see the teares
Wrung out from an aged eye;

Seldom and slowe, lyke the scantye droppes
Of a fountaine that's near a-drye.

'Tis a sorrye sighte to see graye haires
Bro't downe to the grave with sorrowe;
Youth looks throwe the cloude of the present daye
For a gowden gleame to-morrowe.

But the olde white head, and the feeble knees

Berefte of earthlye staye!—

God help thee nowe, olde Winstanlye!

Good Christians for thee praye!

But manye a voice in that buriall traine

Breathes gloomilye aparte,

"Thou had'st not been childlesse now, olde man!

But for thine owne hard harte."

And manye a maide who streweth flowers

Afore the Lady's biere,

Weepes out, "Thou had'st not dyed, sweete Maude! If Alwynne had been heere."

[blocks in formation]

The holye altar blazethe brighte

With waxen tapers high,

Elsewhere in dimme and doubtfull lighte

Doth all the chapelle lye.

Huge, undefined shadows falle
From pillar and from tombe,
And manye a grimme old monumente
Lookes ghastlye throw the gloome.

And manye a rustye shirte of mail
The eye may scantlye trace,
And crestedde helmet, black and barr'd,
That grins with sterne grimace.

Banner and scutcheon from the walles
Wave in the cold night aire,
Gleames out their gorgeous heraldrye
In the ent'ring torches glare.

For now the mourninge companye,
Beneathe that arched doore,
Bear in the lovelye, lifeless claye,
pass there-out no more.

Shall

[blocks in formation]

And the gilded nails on one looke brighte,

And the velvet of cramoisie ;

She hath scarce lain there a full told yeare,
The last Dame Winstanlye.

"There's roome for thee here, oh daughter deare!" Methinks I heare her saye

"There's roome for thee, Maude Winstanlye! Come downe, make no delaye."

And from the vaulte, two grimlye armes

Upraisede, demaunde the dead

Hark! hark! 'tis the thunder of trampling steedes;

'Tis the clank of an armed tread!

[blocks in formation]
« ZurückWeiter »