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Unpublished Early Poems of William Morris

[Numbers refer to checklist entries. All unpublished poems and fragments, except early or alternate drafts of published work (entries *34 and *48, the latter in places nearly illegible), have been included.]

9. The ruined Castle.

[f. 32] The dream of a castle, standing alone
In the midst of a leafless wood;
A ruined castle under the moon;
Three walls and a turret stood.

The ancients surely were fools thought I
When they talked of the huntress moon,
I think she screams, for she dwells in the sky
Both day and night alone:

The clouds are below her, far below,
And the stars are far above,
Neither stars above, nor clouds below
The lonely moon do love.

And the withered leaves in the castle walls
Do mock her, spinning around,
The brittle bough from the poplar falls,
Carved figures lie on the ground.

But the brazen vane on the turretted stair
That faced the steady west wind,
It seemed to love the moon so drear
In the moonlight it looked kind --

Wild, wild, with love she had left her home
She had wandered into the night;
Through the three drear walls long time she did roam
In the midst of the ghostly light.

[f. 32v] For bright by times, and dull by times
Did the yearning moon look on her;
And the long steady wind through the leafless limes
Blew the withered leaves upon her.

She cast her eyes on the turreted stair,
The stair that led to nothing;
Chipped was the rugged stone, and there
Lay a broken mail coat rusting.

There were great brown stains on the granite stair;
They looked so much like blood,
In darksome corner, very drear,
An armed statue stood.

It had lain in the chapel many a night
While the monks say miserere,
There it lay as if resting after the fight,
Of the fight with the dragon weary

But now it standeth bolt upright
It is shadowed as with a curtain
In the top of its battered helm, the light
Falls from the moon uncertain.

A dismal tale rang in the lady's head
Of a lord of that castle old;
'Twas [a] dismal tale of men long dead [MS, as]
By a bright fireside once told:

How an ancient lord of gloomy cheer
Slew his lovely lady bright
[f. 33] And buried her under the turret stair
In the winter-moon's ghastly light;

And, how throughout that castle old,
Since the day when the deed was done,
On wall and floor grew fearful red mould,
There ever since it has grown.

It grew in spots on floor and wall
In the midst of the banquet's light,
From it blood ran on floor and wall,
On the murdered lady's night.

Now the vane went creaking round in the wind,
To the east the wind swept suddenly,
And the late gaunt poplar 'gan to find
Its branches dipping plungingly.

While the west wind blew the yellow eyed owl
Stared from the ivy quietly,
When the wind swept round, with a scream, the owl
Flew from the ivy heavily.

Then the dismal tale, and the lady's thought
In her brain a strange whirl wound,
Owl vane and wind strange dreaming wrought,
On the leaves she lay in a swound.

When she woke the moon was low in the west,
It was changing from gold to white,
The lark was singing, leaving his nest,
As the day rose out from the night.

f. 33v] Through the fall of her golden, shining hair
She could see a face above her;
Two eyes shone moist in the morning air,
Truly they seemed to love her --

10. The Dedication of the Temple

[f. 6] Ornan threshed wheat upon the threshing floor
When all about a strange light shone that made
His face look wild; he hid himself, with him
His four sons hid themselves: and then alone
The glory shone, making all common things
Look fearful in its light: behind the straw
They crouched, but soon they looked out timidly.
The fearful thing looked from the rocky ledge
Towards the City: in its hand a sword
Waved as its fiery wings waved fearfully. 10
Often those men that hid behind the straw
Had heard of Angels singing before God
For ever and for ever: often heard
Of how the Captain of the Lord's own host
Stood before Joshua long ago: of how
Aaron rushed in between the quick & dead
His censer clanging in the tainted air.
They knew the Angel, and about them crept
A horror like to his who stands alone
Upon a moor, when black clouds creep along 20
Against the east wind blowing sullenly,
Bringing the thunder towards the sultry wind
Which has prayed for it blowing many days
Towards the house of thunder: So felt they
For ne'er before upon that threshing floor
Had such a wind blown the small straws about
As that, which blowing from the fiery wings,
Raised the curls up upon his snow-white brow
And let them fall again, as the lull came
Which the great wings swept back, or for awhile 30
Rested, an arch of light above his head
Of light that scorched not; so for long time stood
The awful angel on that threshing floor,
And Ornan trembled, till he heard a step,
As if of one burdened with many woes,
Come slowly towards the straw he hid him in.
He heard a sigh drawn from the inmost heart
Of one so pressed upon by misery.
He could not tremble at the angel there
But only wept and wept; while evermore 40
His long robe dragged the stones along the ground.
He knew the King, King David whom he loved
And straightway fell before his feet, for love
Had all o'er mastered fear, and he forgot
The Angel, who still stood upon the floor;
His great wings sweeping grandly to and fro
[f. 7] And while he stood there calmly looking forth,
Without a doubt upon his loving soul,
An altar rose, and from it went the smoke,
About, about, in many curls and wreaths 50
Up to God's throne, who answered David there
As he lay praying, thinking of the flowers
That grow about the hills of Bethlehem.

Who knoweth how the dreadful angel went?
Or how he came upon the threshing floor?
But he was gone and from the city rose
Grand hymns in very solemn rolls of sound
That dwelt for long about the o'erhanging hills
Entangled in the Olives. Years passed by
The temple rose up from the rocky ledge. 60
No tool of iron smote upon the stone
The white chips flying from it: silently
The gold was clasped upon the cedar wood:
And silently the cherubim stretched out
Their heavy wings, on which the gold lay thick.
The brazen lilies round the sea of brass
Threw wondrous shadows when the moon was up
On the clear water under them, through up:
The brass showed yellow darker than the moon[.]
The narrow windows let the sun come in 70
And strike the gold, and redden where it struck
As though it drew out blood -- A solemn place
Even before the glory of the Lord
Had entered it: and when the moon alone
Shone there by night, the sun alone by day:
A solemn place -- but soon a day came on,
When all the people stood about the rock[.]
How many thousands! hushed in deep despair
With solemn heads bowed down unto the dust
While the king blessed them then he turned him round 80
And prayed many things upon his knees,
And they prayed with him till the Altar blazed
With fierce white flame that licked the victim up[.]
The Lord had come down to his sanctuary.
An aweful place the temple was that night.
The moon was on it, there was something else
Shone in it and about it, not the moon
For when the sun rose from above the hills
And struck it from the east, he changèd not
The wondrous light that shone for ever there. 90
For ever? Ah! how many shameful sins
Were wrought upon the bosom of the Land:
[f. 8] For ever! Ah how many were the hills
On which the west wind blew the palms about
With all their branches blackened by the smoke
That foully rose from altars which the Lord
Held cursed always: So the temple fell,
How terribly the gorgeous temple fell
The brass all vanished from the polished rose[,]
The gold all vanished from Araunah's floor 100
The wild winds threshed the charrèd cedar beams
As erst the tread of oxen threshed the grain.
Where once the incense stirred the purple veil
With its low breathing, now the wind bent down
The green grass waving o'er the Holy place.
How strangely shines the moon in Bethlehem,
How strangely fall the shadows on the hills;
While sit the warriors keeping watch by night,
Not like the quiet watch the shepherds kept,
When shone the moon upon the word made Man 110
When shone the moon upon the manger wall,
Making a shadow larger than the life
Upon the white wall, of a babe and maid,
A babe and Mother; aye the moon shone bright
Upon a hill where three black crosses stood,
Black, and black shadowed; where the white sky lay,
Broken and ghastly on the withered grass.
Then in a garden fair the moon shone once,
The light fell full upon a sepulchre,
Hewn in the rock, with armèd men around; 120
There where the light was grey about the tree,
And the moon sunk, the sun not risen yet,
Then women came to view the sepulchre
With eyes that weeping had made red, with hands
That twitched at their garments evermore,
Twisting them unto knots; with faint slow steps
Bringing to Him Who lay no longer there
Sweet spices: many a summer flower sprung up;
Famished and withered in that garden sweet;
Beneath the sun and wind, beneath the cold. 130
But now the garden and the trees are gone;
From far off lands both men and women come,
Strong men and weak, and women very weak
[f. 9] That they may lie upon that blessèd stone
Where lay the piercèd body of the Lord,
That they may die upon it, kissing it;
That they may kiss their sins away on it,
Such reverence pay they e'en to dead cold stone,
That could not feel God's body as It lay
Wrapt in the linen, hidden in the rock. 140
And Oman's threshing floor! Years years ago,
A marble temple stood, where stood of old
That other temple with the gilded beams
Of cedar and of olive -- years ago
The marble burned slowly into dust
While shouts and shrieks rang round it: filthy things
Are filled now upon the level rock,
Instead of marble pilèd into walls
With splendour on them from the morning dew
With splendour on them from the summer winds, 150
That sweetly slid along the marble smooth.
And now the warriors are upon the hill.
Some sleep and dream, not of the clashing swords
Dreaming of faces very far away
Some sit and twist the grass about their hands
Dreaming awake: some talk about the fight,
And some there are, who pacing up and down
Are weary, weary, with the watch they keep.
About them stand all glittering in the moon
Tall things bright-headed, blades, but not of grass[,] 160
Bright-headed, but they will be dulled soon
When blood dries brown on them, these are the men
Who have swept over many lands with these
Tall spears bright-headed that I tell about.
What people stood before them? on they come.
How may the dwellers in Jerusalem
Keep close their gates against them? very soon
The gates are opened, and the lances gleam
From street to street in dots of trembling light
From which the women shrink back shuddering[.] 170
The warriors who lay dreaming on the hills
Lie dreaming now within their quiet graves
Or seem to dream, for there the white bones lie
With nothing moving them: Ornan is dead
And in its sheath his great sword perishes
As the rust eats it: On Araunah[']s floor
Another temple lifts its splendour up,
So gorgeous, that perchance some simple ones
Think it the same that Solomon did build
Without the sound of hammers: it is sweet 180
To see the many marble pillars stand,
To see within, the many arches cross:
[f. 10] To see the arches other arches make
In dark and light upon the marble floor.
In sooth it is a very beauteous place.
And I perchance could rest within its walls
Could rest within its smooth and barred walls
But round me ever a confused noise,
Swells up and falls and clearer swells again.
Well know I what it means that aweful sound. 190
O North! O north! about thy quiet hills
How fair thy flowers are in summer time.
O north! O north how oft the west-wind brings
The purple haze to lie upon the elms,
And make them purple too, in autumn eves
When twilight shades the streets and underneath
The thick trees, darkness makes. O north! O north! [MS, O! north O! north]
Under thy hills now fairly dance the waves
Showing the slate stones lying in the lake,
And throwing shadows on them from the sun. 200
O! south sky without a cooling cloud,
O! sickening yellow sand without a break,
O! palm with dust a-lying on thy leaves,
O! scarlet flowers burning with the sun.
I cannot love thee South for all thy sun,
For all thy scarlet flowers or thy palms[,]
But in the North for ever dwells my heart.
The North with all its human sympathies,
The glorious North, where all amidst the sleet
Warm hearts do dwell, warm hearts sing out with joy. 210
The North that ever loves the poet well,
The north where in the spring the primrose lies
So thick amongst the moss and hazel roots,
The North, where all the purple clouds do course
From out the north-west making green the trees[,]
Shout for the North, O! brothers shout with me
Pray for the North. O brothers pray with me.

A piteous tale that holy hermit told
In all the listening ears of Christendom,
A piteous tale to all the swelling hearts: 220
He told of pilgrims dying at the gate,
The wardens mocking at their agony[.]
He told of bishops with their hoary beards
A-lying in the grasp of Saracens[,]
Of Christ's name cursèd in the very place
Where he had blessed so many solemnly[.]
[f. 11] To those new warriors that are on the hills,
The hills that hang about Jerusalem,
Come from the North that they might free the tomb
Of Him who bought them they have come from far[,] 230
From towns where all over the houses rise
White spires in the light: from pleasant hills
Which look down on the river where the trees
Are dark above the stream and dark below:
Where all the bank and all the pollard trees
Lie in the water clearer than above
They come from woods where underneath the beech
The ground is hard, the air is almost green
From the green leaves above, while in the den
The notchèd fern is laughing merrily[.] 240
Ah me they come from many a lovely place[,]
And there their voices are weeping in the night
And there their children breathing heavily
Dreaming of horrors as the night goes on
With changes of the clouds -- they dream perhaps
Of all the horrors that lie round about
The line of march the Christian soldiers took.
Perchance they dream that there for many a mile
Great bones be whitening in the southern sun,
And over armour crawls the loathly asp[,] 250
His flat head clubbing at the close steel rings
Of broken swords, whose hilts are wrought about
With what the Saints have suffered for the Lord,
That they may die while on the army goes.
Of friends that stay behind, to die with them
And hold the cross against their parched lips.
It may be that their sire is such a one,
A-dying on the sand, but there all night
The soldiers watch about Jerusalem.
Shout! for the ladder catching on the wall, 260
Shout! for the mailcoat falling back again
From the knees slackening underneath its fold:
Shout! As the Christians press against the foe[.]
Shout! as the turbans wave despairingly:
Shout as the swords clash on the parapet
And fall in shivers underneath the wall,
Shout for the brave knight raising well his knee
Amid the glimmer of the scimitars:
Shout as the sword rises above his head
And falls again amidst the turbaned ones. 270
[f. 12] Hurrah! for sloping down the narrow streets
Hurrah! for rushing unto Omar's mosque
Where all the marble pillars stand aghast
As if they feared the shadows of the men
Shall cross the shadows of the arches there.
Ah m! they slew the woman [and] the babe[,]
They slew the old man with his hoary hair[,]
The youth who asked not mercy, and the child
Who prayed sore that he might see the sun
Some few days more -- those soldiers of the Cross[.] 280
Pray Christians for the sins of Christian men[.]
Then for long years the mosque of Omar felt
The long hymns which beat against the domed roof[,]
The hymns which Solomon had sung of old[,]
His full heart swelling, in the golden wall,
His gift, from which the Cherubim looked down[,]
It saw the image of the Crucified
Over the Altar, and it saw the priest
Stand with his chasuble in heavy folds[,]
The jewels on it hiding from the sun. 290
About the arches rolled the incense-cloud
As once it rolled about the cedar roof --
Now all is changed -- When will the cross once more
Be lifted high above its central Home?
Never perhaps. Yet many wondrous things
That silent dome has looked on quietly.
And truly very many wondrous things
The rock on which the temple stood has seen.
I wonder what Araunah's floor was like
Before the flood came down upon the Earth - 300

11.

[f. 13] From all other moving shadows
Today before the sun went down
Behind the purple hills
The maple tree with its buds was blown
O'er the hollow the primrose fills.

That hollow under the maple tree
The primrose fills alway:
In the autumn and summer the broad leaves be,
In the spring the blossoms gay.

In the winter the ground is hard and the snow
Is white above the ground:
But the primrose roots they lie below
With the maple leaves around.

So today before the sun was set
The wind blew on one cloud:
Towards the east hand the rock was wet
With the water splashing up loud.

And a young knight stood by the maple tree:
With his right hand resting on it:
And in his left hand you might see
A letter, his blue eyes upon it.

Now the west was all a blaze with the sun,
There were purple clouds in the blaze:
The colours kept changing; the sun going down
And the east was soft with haze.

And the knight he gazed at the letter still
With his hand on the maple tree,
Till the sun was hidden by the hill
And he scarce could the letter see.

The wind sank down, when the sun went down,
And still the rock was wet:
And the daisies bent their heads adown
For they knew the sun was set.

Then the knight from the letter lifted his eyes
And he looked down on the night [?]

12.

[f. 14] And then as the ship moves over the deep,
She moves with her mariners all asleep;
They dream very sweetly.
And so our ship moved on through the night
Swiftly sailed, under the light,
Swiftly and gently.
And all our mariners lay asleep
I did not dream, I did not sleep.
The Mermaid sang gently.
Under the moon I saw the surf,
I heard the mermaid gently laugh,
As we sailed to it.
I knew the coral reef was there
I could not speak I could not stir
Though we sailed to it.
Scarce can I my wild tale tell
While the wave sounds like a knell.
Now my hair is very grey;
On the morning of that day
Black it curled about my brow[,]
That was very long ago.
That night beneath the moon
To the surf we sailed on;
As I gazed, it seemed to me
That it was the rock, not we,
That moved over the sea.
O! how horrible was the crash,
And a fiery straining flash
Dazzled my doomed eyes
Instead of the light of the skies
Which were so blue above
Where the moon and the clouds did mrove.
Jesu! how the shrieks rang out!
How the shriek rang, and the shout!
As the ship staggered;
As the masts wavered
As the ship sank through the blue water
* * * * * * * * * * *
Over are waved the boughs of the palm
When I woke up all things were calm
In the dreary desert isle.
How many years have I wandered here,
By the purple sea, through the purple air,
In the dreary desert isle?
Notches I cut for each day in the year
In the bark of the palm, that rises in air
In the dreary desert isle.

14. The Blackbird

[f. 34] Listen [to] the blackbird singing
To the red flush in the west!
Of all that sing the spring in
The blackbird singeth best

O! how the music swelleth!
As he flutters there hard by,
For joy of the tales he telleth,
For the song that shall never die.

The young lime where he singeth
Will remember all his song,
When on his trunk time bringeth
The mosses clinging long.

To the bees by the blossoms humming
The leaves will tell the tale
In the summer that is coming
As they flutter in the gale

His singing riseth higher
To the small clouds overhead,
It goeth on to the fire
By the small clouds that is fed.

Sunsets will keep his singing,
When the lime is on the ground.
In the ivy about it clinging
Will thoughts of the song be found.

30.

A time there was in days long past away
Whereof the romance telleth when all laws
Were kept far better than they are today
That time no man escaped without due cause

That time as Gods knowing both good and ill
With unsealed eyes upon the judgement seat
Sat dukes and kings and wrought out all their will
And those were glad who sat beneath their feet

Yet verily as all the wise men say
Man may know much the high God knoweth all
Yea such a man a man [sic] was righteous yesterday
Today he sinneth let[?] the sword fall

So say they not being merciful like God
Who lets him live the next day and do well
So comes it many bones beneath the sod
Lie buried quietly whom the hangman fell

Had dealt with but that God the pitiful
At some bad times when they were full of fear
And all seemed failing made their judges dull [?]
Lo such a tale as this is written here

A knight there was and he was young enow
But battered in the wars of many lands
And likewise in estate was fallen so low
Nothing he had but what his sword and hands

Might win from year to year nevertheless
The maid at court of noble house and state
Gave him her love and in all recklessness
A desperate man he quite forgot his fate

And cherished it and warmed himself thereat
To mind today tomorrow God may mind
Look you it was high treat for one who sat
Not so high up above the salt to find

The silkwound vellum fall before his feet
While red as fire yet with what Count Guy
Had just now said or while his heart y beat
With smothered rage at Earl John's stations [?] high.

I say no wonder if he scarce could see
For giddy pleasure what fair words were writ
Upon the vellum flower and bird and tree
Danced in the merry sun because of it

I say no wonder if he found it sweet
After some foil in field or tournament
Kissing together to sit feet to feet
And ever round him her two long arms went
And ever surely twas a great content

Shortly no wonder and not too much blame
If he forgot how hard the times were then
If he forgot the wretchedness and shame
His love would surely win among all men

Yea he forgot that law so pitiless
Whereby as saith the romance what Lady
Of that court fell in sinful love no less
Than burnt she was without more remedy

And though no doubt a many times he thought
All this and more yet nonetheless because
While love and honour so hard in him fought
By no process of thinking might he pause

To leave the brawl and jungle of the hall
For quiet hours in the distant place
She and her ladies dwelt in and hear fall
The conduit in its basin: face to face

Meanwhile they sat and sang and stories old
Made them but mindful of their own delight
Forgetful of their troubles and so bold
And tender did his face seem in her sight

That all seemed won already and such love
From her compassionate eyes shone down on him
Twixt falling of the blossoms from above
That thought and memory both began to swim

In giddy dream and if he could have thought
Better is love than honour he had said
For unto another world love had them brought
And there they made their own laws by my head

Upon a day there came a time at last
When both to him and her was no return
Hands off with honour love had got him fast
For weal and woe in this flame him doth [?] burn

Alas she with him
Take notice though that being as they
Fair of good estate, right many men
Loved her in one way or another way
And often was she hard put to it when

They sought her love upon the bended knee
By due answer to hold her secret fast
In spite of all out would it certainly
Swathe a Snake up in wool, at last

Out comes the head with the black forked tongue
Quivering before it all was but in vain
And openly the bitter secret thing
In spite of all the watchfulness and pain

There was Sir Aloyse in that court [a] Knight
Of name and wealth a man of cruel heart
Cold you had said[,] who nonetheless took light
And burnt with love towards her for his part

But no wise might he win her cold and proud
She was to most, although for bitter care
She trembled at such praises loud
The more through heavy thoughts her beauty [?] where

Stood Sir Aloyse with roses in his hand
And fierce love at his heart: Kiss them he said
And give them back to me. Spring was on the land
And the may blossoms rained upon her head

The warm wind blew the medlar leaves apart
And shook the starred white flowers she looked round
At him first then about for help her heart
Almost stopped beating at the grating sound

And dainty seemed right dangerous and hard
And he who held him wise loved not with her
And evilly her would beloveds fared

Of those few words because indeed they meant
More than they said, his eager eye
His flushed face smiling proud and confident
Nought in the way now meant they certainly.

She stood a moment quivering with great fear
Then turned to run he caught her by the hand
With a great spring then said nay stop and hear
A story that I know sit while I stand

She sat upon the grass and over her
Feeling his cutlace edge stood Sir Aloyse
The sound of his slow speaking reached her ear
Dreadful and dreamlike as the constant noise

Of falling waters. So, he said time goes.
I knew you as a merry child one tide
And that is past great love for you arose
Within my heart since then set that aside

I thought I had a chance once let that go
But think Margaret how in the many fights
We men of war have been in that we know
Things women do not think of and see sights

Whereof they do not dream I saw one day
Upon a battle field [a] young knight dead
There with clenched hands throat cut wide he lay
And it was I who killed him by my head

Who was it but my brother times change much
Who would have thought that he of all other men
Should thwart and thwart me till I changed too such
Close friends we were once yet I killed him then

I was not sorry I had killed him though
But sorry we had quarrelled all alas
But as go other things so goes sorrow
I grieve. Alas you will not love me now time was

I would have served you well; but for Richard
I hold it pity that you should give up
Your life for him. [T]o die so young is hard
But who so casts aside a golden cup

Let him go drink grey waters from the brook
And foul his hosen with the mud thereof
I must away I fear much I must look
To hear strange tidings while my broken love

Makes me sit brooding in my hall alone
I judge that it might happen any day
Those dreadful laws may be fulfilled to the bone
And marrow I am sorry I must say

You seem to hate me why do you look so pale
I fear it is not that you pity me
Your own grief doubtless roused up by this tale
This string of words that minglingly [?]

I have been pouring out is it farewell
Will you live Margaret years and years and years
To help you help
With love and honor--now [?] you have a bell
With Richards arms upon it yes Cicel

I think her name is your own pretty maid
Gave it to me--ah not discreet enow Tis pretty
Cicely picked it up she said
In your own bower is it farewell now

Do you reach your hand to say good bye
No let me keep the bell and give me leave
To say be careful of the sweet Cicely
For keeping secrets she is like a sief

For holding water--well I must away
Alls ended [?] the end is just begun
Margaret farewell. She was as pale as clay
While he was speaking as when he was done.

And gone away she sat and held her knees
And for awhile in rocking to and fro
Now vaguely thought she of departed peace
And now half pondered what thing she might do

To save her body and her love from death
Whether he lied or not Sir Richard's bell
That went for nothing Cicely though her breath
Went when she thought of what she knew full well [?]

Hard was it to die young and hard to face
The bitter world with lies and lies and lies
And then she thought how well she knew the place
Where she was to be burnt with what surprise

Her kindred over sea would hear of it
And would they arm for vengeance or just take
Some pounds of gold and after that would sit
In some gilt chantrey silent for her sake

Wishing the mass well over giddily
She rose at last and in her bower she lay
Wishing that that spring day were all gone by
And night were come nought recked she of the day

That in the merry wind beat up and down
Nought recked she of the ousels how they sung
The short sweet laughter of the thrushes brown
There she lay quiet--but her hands she wrung

And softly lest that anyone should hear
And yet above her breath, she called on God
And sometimes half risen up she shook for fear
If any footstep in the passage trod

About sunset the minstrels in the hall
Blew up sweet tunes while lords and knights drank wine
And heavily then on sleep she gan to fall
And sleeping wept upon her fingers fine

But in the night she woke full of[t] and wept
For very pity that she found the tears
Still wet upon her cheeks and when she slept
She dreamt of all things happening bitter fear.

But hope with it and outlet due at last
The next day and the next she lay abed
Sick as her maids told those who asked for her
For Sir Aloyse went not as he had said
And till he had gone Margaret for pure fear

Durst not to send for Richard the third day
She heard the trumpets blow up merrily
Outside her heart beat quick as there she lay
She rose and crossed the room that she might see

The base court from the other window thence
Into a corner huddled stealthily

And God shall try it in the fenced lists
Twixt him and me and trust me to the word
Shall never leave my lips that have been kist
By yours Margaret she said one day I heard

Two knights who spoke of this thing and they said
They never yet of anyone who herein
Lived and came safe therefrom--by my head
God is a mighty Lord and he will win

Ah sweet I say whatever happeneth
The little word never shall be said by me
No doubt this is the worst--for you my death
Nought to fear afterwards Margaret for see:

The Commons love us let your squires sing
Your name aloud proved innocent by then
Think well the rough-joyed puisance [?] and goose wing*
May help you well among these cruel men.

That is the worst; but why should the worst come
Think of the best Sir Aloyse gibbeted
And we at peace among our folks at home
To love together till we both are dead

But in himself he thought yet she may die
Before her trial comes she is changed much
These last days Aloys[e] wrought us this misery
I wonder in God's name why he made such

As Aloyse and I are she started up and cried
Help me Richard so faint I feel and sick
Therewith she put her hand unto her side
And sank down swooning as a dog might lick

The face of his dead master, on his knees
Over and over kissed he her sweet face
Fixed and dead pale and art nowise at peace
For the brows frowned the half opened mouth showed trace

Of pain and struggling when she woke again
And now once more could speak she touched his wrist
And languidly beheld him as if fain
To say a thing but noting as he kissed

Her lips and eyes what look his own eyes had
She held her peace and silent there sat there
Lamenting in their thoughts these changes sad
Bitterly thinking of the times that where [sic]

Brooding they sat there in such kind of dream
As I have heard that dying men have oft
When pain is gone and life and sorrow seem
A tale well told. Sweet and soft

They heard the sobbing whistle of the thrush
They heard the kestrels cry from tower to tower
They heard outside the pink flowers may bough brush
Against the painted window of the bower

Over the yellow crowns of kings who sit
White robed betwixt the sun and yellow moon
Betwixt the flowers did the finches flit
And gently through the locks did the wind croon

And in their thoughts they wandered to and fro
Sometimes it seemed an easy thing to bear
Sometimes their hearts nigh broke for bitter woe
Unbearable, but there came hope and fear

At last and woke them up to their real pain
Then with slow sigh rose Sir Richard up
And said behold you Margaret we are fain
To put aside from us this bitter cup

That love holds out to us ah yet I knew
That sweet and bitter mingled bitterer is
Than any other surely unto you
My love has been a bitter Judas kiss.

And now I cannot die but you must die
I cannot give my life for you my sweet
How shall I pray your pardon and mercy
I can scarce speak it -- then said Margaret

My head whirls neither can I think at all
How much we may have sinned but if God gives
That we come safe out of our bitter fall
For his sake we will live such holy lives

As never men lived

* goose wing - arrow

31. [The Lady of Havering]

God save the Kings highness
And right well mote he be
It was when King Edward ruled this land
There lived a fair lady

She had no father or mother
She was the kings own ward
There sought her many a good knight
And many a rich lord

On a day the king sent for her
And said damsel I will ye wed
There she but hanged her face down
And right little she said

Like the red side of a ripe apple
The face grew of this maid;
Then said the king Say out your mind
And be ye not afraid

Then spake Sir Thomas Knolles
Under his breath right to her
My lord loveth all bright ladies
I rede you have no fear

Then she spake right sweetly
My good lord for to please you
I would wed three times over
Howsoever I might rue

But I have a vow to our lord God
Also to S. Lucy
That I would wed no man on earth
But if he brought me things three

And first from King Phillip of France
He must take the right hand glove
When I wear this on my right hand
So far he shall have my love

And next from King David of Scotland
He shall take the signet ring
He shall be nearer to my love
When he hath done this thing

The third he shall take the gold crown
From off the great souldan
When he hath done these three things
I shall hold him as my man

To that man who doeth this
Whomsoever he may be
Be he of high estate or low
I shall yield my body cheerfully

But no man shall lie with me
Be he Kaiser or King
Or any Lord that is on earth
Who feareth to do this thing

Thereat the king studied awhile
And he looked right grimly
Dame I count your wit but small
That ye speak thus to me

I rede you choose right speedily
One of these knights twaine
Either my own good knight Sir James
Or Sir John of Behnaine [?]

That Dame she waxed as deadly pale
As privet on a green bush
From her head to her yellow hair
She shook like any rush

Do ye doubt me nothing said the king
That ye say never a word
Ye are a hardy Damozel
By St. George our good lord

She brast out sore a weeping
By his foot she set her knee
Alas my fair lord and king
What will ye do with me

Of your might I have great doubt
But I doubt the Lord God more
I must needs say the same words again
I lightly said before

Then said Sir Walter of Mayar [?a variant of Manny?]
My lord this dame will not forswear
She had liefer to die in the pain dure
I rede you the better love her

Sir I hold her of right great faith
As was my lady St. Catherine
She is right tall and her colour is fair
As if it were snow and Guienne wine

I pray you give me license Sir King
The King of France dwells not in the moon
Nor is the Soldan in the Sun
By the help of God I shall come back soon

Me[d]dle no more Sir Walter Manny [?]
Ye be a good man with your glaive
But methinks your wit is grown but dull
Ho may the saints me save

If ye have made a fool oath
Ye shall keep it by Christ
Ye shall lie still in your shroud
Or ever your lips be kissed

Ho dame proud and insolent
Ye speak like the goddess Diane
Are ye not made like other women
That ye will not wed no man

Heed ye well Sir Scheneschal
Take good care of this lady
In the little red house by Havering
Let her abide both night and day

It standeth right pleasantly
At the skirt of Waltham Chase
Let her bide in that house and garden
She shall see no man's face

But she may have Damozels
To wait on her body
And all things fitting to her estate
Such as it should be

Right little time they lost I trow
In a barget they set her
With hale and how they set sail
Upon the Thames river

Right evil cheer had the Lady Anne
The wan water was but cold
But she said as she fell a weeping
I shall have no joy till I am old

But they went up the river of Thames on
Till to Barking town came they
And they mounted on goodly steeds
And gat them quick away

To the little red house by Havering
They rode through the green wood
When the door shut after that lady
Right cold became her blood

She would not put on gay gowns
But ever she went in black
She ate nought but bitter bread and water
Though of good meats there was no lack

She would not drink the red wine
Either of Almayne or Guienne
If I drink wine I shall live twelve months
I would live but ten

She took no joy in the yellow sun
Or in the sweet white moon
She had little joy but in sleeping
She said I shall die soon

And she said to her damozels
I pray you sweet sisters
Let me sleep what time I will
And cry not in my ears

For when I sleep I dream well
Of many a fair thing
I dream of being in a fair garden
Clipping and kissing

For wete you well my good maidens
My love is a poor knight
Yet I love him right sorely
For he is strong and whyht

It was but a short while agone
Since first he kissed me
And I loved him sorely for that same
None kissed me before but he

But I said fair knight have ye got broad lands
And many a rich fee
Have ye got kists with oer gilt lock [kists, chests]
To hold the red money

He said my lands are narrow lands
I have but o poor fee
I am no jew or Lombard carle
I have but scant money

I said have ye ridden among the Scots
Have ye borne your glaive in French land
Or have ye tilted in Paynimrie
Have ye smitten Mahomed with your hand

I have not ridden among the Scots
I have stayed at home in mine own land
I have not justed in Paynimrie
Or met a frenchman hand to hand

But I doubt not for your love
I shall do many a worthy deed
I shall seek for adventures
Whereas the Lord God may lead

It may chance to you fair love
To have an adventure ere you wot
He said fair love I must away
Although my love for you is so hot

I shall come back and do some deed
All men may well speak of
He kissed me often on the mouth
And said farewell mine Owen love

He held me out at his arms length
And looked hard into my face
He said I am a little afeard
This court is a great place

There be men over strong of might
A maid is but a weak thing
I said proudly by my fay
Another song I will make them sing

Since my will is good I shall keep it
Whatso sayeth carle or Lord
For no man will I forget you
Have here this last word

He took his hands about my head
And kissed me on the eyen twain
Many a time he kissed my mouth
I trow shall never be kissed again

He rade away with a little menee
He rode into the north country
He will be wood when he cometh back
That never again he may see me.

End of fytte one-

36. The Sleeve of Gold

The first twenty-two and final six stanzas are from the B. L. Murray draft, the rest from the Fitzwilliam Morris autograph version.

It was when the thrushes sing their best
In the pleasant month of May
Fair Catherine looked from her window
With a weary thing to say.

Ye sing so sweet oh thrushes she said
But little to my liking
Are the blossoms sweet to smell
She said a bitter thing

She said; but if God loved me still
I should pray here to Him
That some cold winter wind might blow
And pierce me limb by limb

Unless God had forgotten me
I should kneel down and pray
That I might go quite cold and stiff
Ere the dawning of the day.

I pray that God may strike me dead
Ere July comes, said she
That my small bones may all be white
Ere apples are red on the tree

For two sorrows in one day
Made a grief great and sore
This child that will be born one time
And my love I see no more

At Christmas when the frost was here
But and the cold wan snow
In my bower he lay anight
This makes me bitter woe

When the moon set he rode away
Small noise his horse-hoofs made
I sat and wept on my fair-wrought bed
By myself I was afraid

But or ever he went he said to me:
My sweet child and fair may,
Pray you be as glad when I come back
As you weep now I go away.

Before three months are wholly gone
Fair may I shall come back
And instead of the green coat of Fierne [?]
I shall wear the grey steel jack

And instead of grey heron's feather
The salade on my head [salade, var. of sallet, helmet]
And instead of the serving-man's brass badge
My shield of white and red

I shall carry my shield of white and red
And the three hawks thereon
And whoever else shall have that same
It shall not be lightly won

And at my back shall men well see
Whether it be bright or mirk
The spears of my good men and true
As thick as these woods of birk

Now yonder lyeth on your fair bed
Your goodly gown of green
Thereto the sleeves of fine red gold
Are right richly beseen.

I pray you give me one of them
That I may bear it in every place
Between the hawks on my great helm
For simple joy of your sweet face

So that no man among the press
Whosoever he may be
But by great pain and much labour
May lightly win of me

So that no man be so hardy
But if he be right great of might
To meet me body to body
In clean armour for the fight.

It was mirk in the winter morning,
Small noise his lone hoofs made;
I sat and shivered till the light.
I was right bitterly afraid.

Among the ladies in the hall
I went that day in mortal dread
And whiles for fear my lips were white
And whiles for shame my cheeks were red.

They said; there goeth the sleeveless
She hath given away her sleeve,
To some leman we make no doubt,
Thereof shall she grieve

When he comes not back again,
Nor her fine sleeve of gold
Before a year is well passed over
She'll wish to be under the mould.

Yea so, my arm was bare and cold
All the wan winter long
And in the sweet May gardens
When the minstrels are at their song

The hot sun burns it bitterly
And my shame draws on apace
My feet feel weak on the daisies
The south wind chills my face

Fair Catherine bided at her window
Till the yellow moon shone fair
And she looked like Gods dear mother
For her fingers and her hair

But as it grew to the midnight
She heard one who went below
She deemed it was but the carle archer
At his watch walking slow.

Sleep you or wake you may Catherine
Have here your golden sleeve
Mount up behind may Catherine
And ask no mans leave

O Knight Richard my love Richard
How can I come to thee
There are thick walls and many things
Betwixt you and mee

Withouten a ladder shall I climb
Adown my fathers wall
Shall I swim the moat in my kirtle
Though I am proper and tall

Will the silk across my white breast
Serve for a jack of steel
To keep the steel bolt from my heart
That no leech then can heal

For every hour of the night
Six archers strong and tall
With winded arblasts and steel bolts [arbalest or arblast, field bow, used to fire stone]
Go round the castle wall

O May Catherine O may Catherine
When shall I come back
And bring with me my true men
With spear and sword and jack

Knight Richard in o week from this,
Hay harvest will begin
Come to the wet croft with your true men
For I shall be therein

There all day long we maidens fair
Weave wreaths both fresh and sweet
Of Lady smock and the white daisies
That men clepe Marguerite

And all our men both carle and Lord
To the upland meads shall be gone
With the long scythe and the tedding fork
We dames shall be alone

Go hooly my knight I hear the watch
Cry out along the wall
Knight Richard swam the outer dyke
He was both strong and tall

Knight Richard loup the outer pale [loup, Morris' construction; M.E. "loupen," to leap]
Where the grass grew long
And he loup up to his bonny grey steed
That was both fair and strong

He weareth no arms but an old salade
Thereby I could not see his face

It was merry times [tunes?] in the good house
In that sweet month from day to day
Always was there fair sport
Deeds of arms or minstrels play

Knights and ladies deem'd that tide
The time went merry and fast enow
Fair Catherine thought by my fay
That the time never went so slow

Fair dames looked this way and that
At minstrel singing or clean armed knight
May Catherine on her part
Turned neither to the left or right

Those fair dames for play and joy
Held their faces red as rose
Fair Catherines face was grown as white
As any lily that blows

But when it came to hay harvest
To the wet croft they went to play
And all the men folk both Lord and carle
To the upland fields were away

And there they wove them fresh garlands
Of the Ladysmock so sweet
And of the little white daisies
That men clepe Margueruite [sic]

Fair Catherine drank the wan water
Many a time that day
For doubt her heart could scarce beat
While she seemed well to play

Catherine drank the wan water
She sickened from hour to hour
As she stooped over her golden shoes
To pull the bonny flower

The sun was down behind the birks
When Knight Richard came
My fair child and bonny May
I am here to bring you hame.

The sone was down behind the hils
Ere Knight Richard rode away
With the tall spears of his good men
About the bonny may.

My fair friends and good ladies
My sleeve is back ye see
And the stout arm of a good knight
Is a leal staff for me.

Say farewell to my father dear
And my mother the good dame
I shall soon be clean forgotten
For she has many more at home [hame?]

In the gloaming with horns blowing
So blithely they rode away
But or ever the yellow moon was up
They were met among the hay

Are our hands so light that we should flee
Said then the Knight Richard
Fair knight our hands are heavy enow
To give strokes full hard

Give back what you have stolen Sir Knight
And I will let you free
She shall go freely said Sir Richard
She shall choose twixt thee and me

I hold two things in my hand father
The one was given to me
The other I chose by mine own self
And mine shall it ever be

I rede you father go home again
And take Alice on your knee
Let my mother comb her yellow hair
But say farewell to me

Let all my sisters pray for me
Arow in the chapel fair
Go back without me father
With one lock of my gold hair

By God quoth he alive or dead
Spears for Lord Lawrence spare no soul
Verily then you might have seen
Many a man in the swathies [?] roll.

[swath - a measure of grass land, originally determined by the sweep of a scyth; swathy - a rare usage for swaths]

By Saint Mary the spear points
Rent her kirtle here and there
By God I swear that some mans sword
Cleft the coif above her hair

Strange husbandry they held by moonlight
In the uplands by my fay
And instead of the crutched tedding forks [crutched, crossed]

With strong spears they turned the hay

To have seen Sir Richard fight
A man would have had great joy
For he was more wood than Launcelot
Or Sir Hector of Troy.

This and that he ranged the field
He smote down many a man
And great wrath had the Lord Sir Lawrence
When that he saw nothing wan

But those that fight against maidens
May well feel faint of heart
They gat away right hastely [sic]
Who were of his part

Lo here is a hole in my coat of fenice
Some hammer hath made I wis
Thrust thy sword through Sir Richard I pray
And make a good end of this

So that my daughter Catherine
May dance with her fair feet
Over my bones at her wedding
Than to live this will be more sweet

My Lord to pray for her pardon
My May in sooth durst not come here
Though she thinks right nought but good
That you are crazed she hath great fear

Wherefore I kneel and pray for grace
This must be the good Lords will
That we should come together at last
Good Sir I pray our joy fulfill

My Lord I say by the Soldan
I was bound with an iron chain
Not for that I broke prison
I came to my may again.

And great rocks by Illyrica
I was wrecked in the salt sea
With many dangers of robbers
I came through Pruce and Bohemie

I think God took me out of the sea
I think also God broke my chain
It was Gods will no doubt
I should come to my may again.

You were an hundred to fourscore
And yet lo Sir your men are fled
If it had not been but by Gods help
I think we should have been but dead

Yea this is ever the way with maids
Under foot may she be trod
I trow they do right what they list
Then say this thing is of God

Lo Sir and is it the Lords will
I should curse her and thee
By God whosever will it is
I do it now right heartily.

Nathless they wed the morrow morn
Though she was but a cursed child
Sir Richard had a sorrowful weeping bride
Twas little that they smiled

But or ever the priest did on his cape
Lord Laurence came in there
Like a wood man he ran apace
Up to the altar fair

He spread out his arms wide
And took Catherine up therein
He put back her yellow hair
And kissed her cheek and chin

He yode to the Knight Richard
And kissed him on the mouth
Thereat came the priest forth
From the sacristy on the south

Shut up your book awhile Sir Priest
I have a thing to tell
That will be a right good sermon
In church it will go right well

As I lay abed last night
For pure rage I fell asleep
My lady wife lay there by me
And she did little but weep

Then as I slept I dreamed a dream
I was in church right fair
But by St. Mary good orange trees
And fair roses grew up there

And the altar was of red gold
And likewise the great pix thereon
That held Gods body seemed right well
To be cut out of a goodly stone

And there was music sung therein
More goodly than I ever heard
By the saints it was so over sweet
That I grew faint and sore afeard

And yet none sung this most sweet song
But red birds in the orange trees
I thought if the very thrushes of heaven
Sing such wonderful songs as these

How do the angels sing right so
They sung no more and I saw then
A man and a maid stand aright
As folks are married among men

A priest also I saw well
Who gave a ring in that mans hand
That he that marry that fair may
[By] The Saints I had no will to stand

Fair Catherine made as if she rowed
Upon the grass so green
Why do you sit as if you rowed and row Catherine
When no ship can be seen.

I sit and row me to my love
Though no boat can be seen
For summer is a-coming on
And all the grass is green.

We heard to-day and yesterday
Your father lyeth on bier
May God have mercy on his soul
Still have I got my dear
My true love draweth near.

We heard today and yesterday
That your true love is dead
Now will I lie down on the earth
And throw dust on my head

Rise up rise up fair Catherine
Here comes your father dear
Why should I stand upon my feet
Then may the good God keep him
While my love lies on his bier

Rise up rise up May Catherine
Your true [love] cometh near
Now shall I sit upon the grass
And get [?] kisses from my dear.

37. [The Lady of the Wasted Land]

Listen good folk to my ryme.
There was a house upon a time
Good and fair by a woodside
And this time it was Christmastide
Therein lived a fair lady
Fatherless I trow was she
And motherless: thereto perfay
She saw no man from day to day
Only dames might be with her
Old or young or foul or fair
So on a time as my song saith
This lady lay sick nigh to death
So she said in a fine voice
Clear though with so little noise
To her handmaidens and said
Sisters you deem I am but dead
But I trow the God of heaven
Such a grace to me has given
I shall not die all utterly
Before that my true love I see
Therefore I pray the[e]
Blanche my maid
Who art of few things afraid
Some token unto him to bear
Ho give me what lieth there
This same was a girdle fair
Wrought with gold in strange manner
And chiefly in the midst of it
Where the twyfold clasp did fit
Was a red heart and a sun
She handled it and one by one
Over the scales her fingers drew
Till she came to the clasps two
Then eft she essayed to speak
But wept as if her heart would break
And crossed her feet within the bed
And on the billow [pillow?] rolled her head
Then each to each her maids said
Right sorrowfully--Such fantasies
Hold her now as these and these
Alas before the more doubtless
She will die of this distress
And what can we. but then again
She spoke sobbing and with pain. .

Since this draft ends at the end of a page, the poem seems to have continued on.

Lo Sirs a desolate damozel
In all highways I made my moan
With words on parchment written well
To help men to get back mine own

And at the crossways that lead down
To either sea and the waste land
The forest and the golden town
I set a pursuivant to stand

Beside a cross of white and red
And each day many knights passed by
Some bravely were apparelled
And had most things that gold can buy

And some came poorly from the wars
With broken arms and visages
Scarred by the Saracen scimitars—
And unto each and all of these

My pursuivant cried loud and well
The words upon the parchment writ
By me the desolate Damozel—
Fair knights—I do you all to wit

My lady a most noble dame
A recent traitor hath appealed
And surely Sirs it were great blame
Such a fair noble dame to yield

Unto the fire Sirs I say
Before God she sweareth well
She hath the right by my fay
It were a hard thing to tell

How fair she is and Sirs therefore
My dame this goodly appellant
Being grieved by a strong traitor
Of some good knight hath great want

In the name of God some knight would say
How call you then the defendant
Sir John le blanc then by my fay
She is hardly an appellant—

How say you fellows which of you
Would arm for a fight such as this
For many a day he should rue
Who met Sir John le blanc I wiss

Some spake thus and some spake
With great ruth and courteously
But there was no Knight for my sake
Would meet such a man as he

Thus some spake and so some spake-
At last there came a goodly knight
A lion in a green brake
Would not be a fairer sight

When my herald had said his say
Quod He, they say among men of wit
Take that you long for while you may
Or you may chance to lose it

I may well say Sir pursuivant
That every day of this my life
This is the thing I most want
A most fair dame to be my wife

Therefore if she will wed with me
I will right joyfully do her will
And if will not then perdie
For Gods sake I will fight still

39. Introduction to the "Story of the Flower"

There were not ten men in all the house
Because of the deep peace in the land
Such honor this King Louis hath
None dares contrary his command
Upon the walls we lay one noon
Sweet Alice and I. St. James' tower
Kept off the hot September sun
We read the Story of the Flower

46. [Sir Richard]

The good Sir Richard slept right fast
But his damsel waked by his side
And O but she was sore adrad
And twas little but she cried

But whiles she thought it was the wind
Beat on the dormer pane
And while she thought it was the wind
Twisting the golden vane

And whiles when she strained hard to hear
The dogs below howled out
And still this fair dame quok for dread
Till she could never hear that shout

Rise up my Lord Sir Richard she said
They cry from street to street
Town won town won arm quick she said
Go down your foes to meet

Out out Good Squire Giles he said
There are many glories to win
Nay nay my Lord these traitor gascons
Have let the frenchmen in

There is no boot but to stay here
Within our fair great wall. . . .
[line crossed out]
Of the hard haps that us befall

Here is a fair child my lord
Shall do our message well
And these French thieves shall all be caught
Like toads in a dry well"

O hold me up my Squire he said
I doubt that I am slain
I shall never see merry England more
I shall die here in Maine

This steele quarrel grieves me so sore
Many an one shall die in fear
Of these false french if you die
Natheless but I hope better cheer

If you die here in Maine he said
I shall have small joy to live
I shall go among the press
Doughtly strokes for to give

I trow if my head today
Were but a silly eggshell
I should go out among these french
Many a man for to kill

They sound on a trumpet now fair lord
We will [?] crafty wiles
I shall be Sir Richard the good
And you shall be my squire Giles

I will do on your red tabard
And your basnet of gold clean to see
I will show myself little he said
There is none shall know me

We will not let these Frenchmen wit
That you here wounded lie
I shall speak from the wall with a great voice
And Sir Richard I shall well seem to be

I am the Vicount of Rohane
If you are Sir Richard of Corton
Yield up your tower now in haste
For we have the town well won

This is King Charles heritage
If you will not give it to me
I shall mightily brenn it up with fire
And hang you all on ae tree

Thou sayst false Sir Viscount of Rohane
I will not yield it up to you
All Maine longeth to Sir Edward
And so doth all Poictou

See here Sir Viscount of Rohane
If our stone walls were weaten [sic] bread
I would not give up my lords house
Till on the door step I lay dead

You may wish well then weaten [sic] bread
If we build sastides round about you
There will be no rat but you shall eat him
And your sword belts shall schew

My lord of Rohane thou art a false traitor villian
Two times thou hast turned thy coat
Thou deservest well to die
I would we were alone you and I.

I counsel you go back again
You shall be taken I you tell
Sir John Chandos shall catch you all
Like foul toads in a dry well

Then said Sir Reginald du Roy
Thou art a bold knave
But a false squire
So may God me save

Thou art not Sir Richard Corton
Said Sir Reginald du Roy
Lo Sirs Sir Richard now is dead their captain [sic]
Thereof have we great joy

That is false Sir Knight he said
In thy throat I give thee the lie
Thou art a false knave Sir Squire
I hope well to see thee die

I wonder muckle thou art so bold
But thou shalt not endure right long
When we pull this tower down
On a high tree thou shall hang.

Let us no more words said than [sic?] this good squire
Lo archers pulleth your bows
Whoso is a good man today
Nothing shall he lose.

Who putteth himself in jeopardy
He shall tyne naething I trow [tyne, from Scandinavian, to become lost, perish]

My lord Sir Edward shall make him rich
Who is right good at his bow.

They shot so well together then
These good yeoman [sic] bold
There was no ladder nor eke an axe
That a frenchman might hold

How does my lord Sir Richard Corton
I shall be hole of my hurt
In ae month the good leech saith
But the frenchmen tread us like dirt

But the frenchmen hung us on a tree
I shall be of right merry cheer
I would Sir Hugh Calverly
Or Sir John Chandos were come here

In there came uncle Peter
He was a yeoman bold
My lord these french all go aback
They may nothing hold

In there came uncle Peter
My Lord I fair pennon see
What [are] these bearings
Peter Tell that quick to me

In there came John blackbeard
He was a yeoman strong
My lord these french may do nothing
They will not habyde long

In there came Oliver Gurton
Of his speech he was sweet
My Lord I see a great rout
Fillen up all the street.

In came Gregory Evanton
My lord good news I bring
Our English ranks cometh hither
And right sweetly they sing

That is Hugh Calverly
A good knight of his hands
There is no knight is better
In King Edwards lands

What song sing they Gregory
Said my lord in a voice fine
My Lord they cry ever
Out out the Kentish kine

In there came uncle Peter
My Lord I fair pennon see
What [are] these bearing Peter
Tell that quick to me

My lord to say soothly
It was silver a red stake
That is Sir John Chandos
He is come quick for my sake

We shall hold high feast I trow tonight
In our great hall that is so fair
All the great French captains
Shall eat with us there

Though I may not drink wine
For the heating of my blood
Yet shall I drink sweet posset
And that taste as good

I am so full of joy
that this tower I have holden
That posset shall be better to me now
That wine if I had been yolden

Good sport had the Seneschal
And Sir Hugh Calvery I you tell
All these french were slain or taken
Like toads in a dry well

And those French lords that were taken
Ere they gat them away
Many florins for certain
They did pledge them to pay.

Then I trow Squire Giles
Won well in plain fight
The captain Sir Reginald du Roy
Though he was a good knight

47.

Dear friends, I lay awake in the night
When I sung of the willow-tree
And I thought, as I lay awake in the light,
Of what you had said to me.

For you remember how you had said,
That I should be a poet
Ah me: it almost made me sad,
As I lay in the light, to know it.

For I knew, as every poet does,
What a poet ought to be:
Straightway before me there uprose,
My hideous sins to me.

Sweet friends[,] I pray you pray for me
To Him Whose hands are pierced
That, as, on the breast of His Mother, He,
So I on His breast may be nursed.
William.

*50. Mad as I was I stopped

Mad as I was I stopped & thought there now
I knew that I had seen that place before
And those pavilions why twas even so
Last year; then some fear pierced my hearts core
I entered through that same close rose fence
And went toward the great pavilion whence
Some fear or horror [illegible] struck upon my sense
O pity me I pray you this is what I saw
A silken carpet lay upon the grass
And on a silken bed (on that whereon) lay Eleanore
I was in time to see the last breath pass

*50. Mad as I was I stopped

B. L. Add. MS 74,255.

Mad as I was I stopped & thought there now
I knew that I had seen that place before
And those pavilions why twas even so
Last year; then some fear pierced my hearts core
I entered through that same close rose fence
And went toward the great pavilion whence
Some fear or horror [illegible] struck upon my sense
O pity me I pray you this is what I saw
A silken carpet lay upon the grass
And on a silken bed (on that whereon) lay Eleanore
I was in time to see the last breath pass
From her half opened lips, besides I saw
Sitting along the bed on the further side
Ten maidens fairly robbed and thus they cried
Here comes Sir Johnne to claim his doomed bride . . . .
I knew not where I was, but felt a globe
of whirling black with spots of red & green
Shrink and expand before me . . .
When she was lifted up I saw no deep green robe
No robe of Eleanore but only deep green meads
Between the hazel hedge the gleaming of gold sheaves. . . .
I used to think it was a sort of right
That I should get each day some happiness
In which time clean forgotten was the night . . . .