Complete works of willia.., p.542
Complete Works of William Morris, page 542
I heard many brass horns bray,
And wide the gates were opened.
Then to that I thrust my head
That I might see what thing there came:
Sooth to say I had no shame
If folk might see me staring there,
There was not room for all my hair,
My mouth and nose and eyes scantly
If one came close he might chance to see.
I say the gates were opened,
With horns and shouts there entered
A Lady with a great meinie
Apparelled all most royally.
So when I saw them going there
I waxed ashamed and for my state
I mourned, for there was cloth of gold
And many a guisarme; stiff and bold
In good white armour many a knight
With fair tabard duly dight,
All such things as ‘longed once to me —
Yea also and so merrily
Their horns blew, I was constrained
To weep so hard as if it rained
Upon the sill.
But then with these
Between the bright sun and the trees
Came there riding that sweet thing:
At her rein did the bells ring,
Over her saddle of ivory
Fell her fair green gown so free.
Then when I saw her how she rode
A heat struck through my poor cold blood
And I forgot my poor estate,
And well thought I early and late
Will I be her knight perfay.
Thus said I, nor where I lay
Did I remember. What my foe
Would do with me I did not know
As at that time, or if I should win,
God being heavy on my sin.
But for joy of her sweet face
This despair I clean forgot,
Fell Foe Nought thought I of this or that
Till she had gone upon her way,
Then half awake longtime I lay —
And if I might again see her.
Within a while I heard a stir,
Round in the lock went the key,
Then came the jailor in to me;
Then spake he loud and merrily:
“Up up, Sir Knight, and leave this place.
My lord hath given you all free grace
That be knights and of good blood
Of those that lie ‘twixt stone and wood
In his strong prisons.”
Nought did I say
And to and fro did my heart play
Betwixt my doubt and joy that day.
“But what, my lord,” said he then,
“Shall I shut this door again?
Love you this place so heartily
You list not leave it?” “ Sir,” said I,
“I shall sing by and by
And dance for joy, I have no doubt,
That from my prison I am out:
But now my heart misgiveth me
This is a dream.” “Drink wine and see,”
Then quoth the carle with high glee;
“I trow strong wine shall make ye see,
For on this day it rains of wine:
Come eat and drink, old prisoner mine!”
Up to the great hall went I then
And there saw I right many men
Wretched and lean with garments rent,
By this great lord they had been shent:
Knights were they once as I had been
But now was their good day gone clean;
Yet that they saw the sun again
And were free now after such pain,
Their lean cheeks waxed red
And with joy their eyes sparkled.
At the dais sat that lord,
Well with cloths was dight the board,
And there was goodly wine and meat,
Thereby had many a lady seat.
And then a herald ‘gan to call
With high voice throughout the hall
The style and manner and high degree
Those knights once had that stood with me,
One by one in order fair.
At last heard I as I stood there,
“Ho now for the good knight
That beareth barry black and white,
Sir Robert du Leon well he hight.”
Up to the dais went I then
Dizzily walking among men
Who gazed at me curiously.
In some gold dish I did espy
What a wretch I was to see,
My hair unkempt and all dirty,
My visage yellow as honey;
Bare at shoulder and at knee,
An old rent tabard at my back
Where all grey was gone white and black.
Slowly I walked as if with age,
Gaunt and grive of my visage,
I boiled to see how as I went
Over tables the ladies leant
For fear of fouling of their dress.
Such was my grief and my distress
When I knelt before that lord
Mine eyes always I cast down:
“Sir,” quoth he,” once my fair town
You burned with fire, and did to me
Many a foul wrong and injury:
All which I now forgive to thee
In joy that God upon this day
Has given me the fairest may
In all this world to be my wife.
God give you joy now of your life!
Go you and bathe and put on you
Weed of scarlet and of blue,
Then come and eat in this my hall,
The next day go. Take what shall fall
From God, and I shall give to you
Beside this gown of red and blue
Twenty pounds of silver bright
And all that ‘longeth to a knight,
Both horse and arms.” While thus he said
The blood rose up into my head
And made me dizzy. I thought this:
I am twice beaten; he may kiss
My may upon the lips and take
Her first sweet look when she doth wake
In the merry morning, while I lie
Alone in all my poverty.
Then my heart swelled that nigh I wept,
But yet again my full heart leapt
Up to my mouth with this new thought:
Behold this morning I am brought
An idle show before my may;
It may hap on another day
That I may show her somewhat too.
So thought I and with courage new
Lift up mine eyen and beheld
That may who sat beneath the shield
Of red and blue. So steadily
I thanked him for his clemency
And went away.
When morning came
Out went I with my heart aflame
To do high deeds. The first was I
To ride of all that company;
Out rode I through the flowering trees,
And when I felt between my knees
The plated saddle once again
And heard my horse tread, I was fain
To sing old songs about my may.
You know, Sir Rafe, how day by day
The rumour of me goes: perfay
I shall be rich and great soon — well,
Tomorrow comes and many a selle
Shall empty be of Sienese,
Yet put I not much faith in these
French knights with their glittering —
John Hawkwood hath a bettering.
THE ROMANCE OF THE THREE WOOERS
YEARS agone it did befall
By a mouldering brick wall
Three knights strong and lithe and tall
Met as they had sworn to do.
The first knight had a lady’s shoe
The second had a silken fold
Shredden from a lady’s dress;
But the third knight bore a tress
Just the colour of the corn,
From a lady’s head ’twas shorn.
The first knight had about his head
A covering of russet red
That wrapped about his helm and crest,
And a red cloth on his breast,
So what his cognisance might be
The others could not lightly see.
The second knight had got no crest
Nor any bearing on his breast,
Plain linen, plain steel only, quite
Without device and only white.
The third knight wore upon his head
Two lilies, one was white, one red,
Likewise on his green surcoat he
Carried a purple-leaved lily.
That wall choked up with weeds and mould
Was the rampart of a castle old
Quite ruined now, but verily
Eld had not caused it so to be,
Indeed petraria-stones you saw
Had crashed through every window and door,
Besides through all the weedy court
In his hand, a shoe of gold;
Were scattered bones of men that fought
In that grim battle long ago —
Yea man had caused it to be so.
The slope of grass the knights sat on
Covered the bones of those that won
In that grim fight; moreover you
Could see hard by cat-towers two
The victors left behind them there;
They rotted in the autumn air.
An aspen-wood did grow close by
In which the trees hung all awry
Half fallen, yet they could not die,
Though summers since this way they fell,
The other trees propped them so well.
I think you wish to know from me
Something of this strange company,
Then listen: three years ago these three,
Wandering from whose court know I not
Nor from what land, nor know I what
Their friends said to them when they went.
Now these three were at first content
To have adventures such as might
Befall to any errant knight,
Until one morning at the dawn
Each one awaking found a torn
And bloody parchment on his mouth
And all their faces turned round South.
These scrolls were writ in black and red
And the same legend each one said,
“ By that which touches either cheek
Go Southward and the Gold Land seek.”
— Truly red blood was on each cheek.
Then rose they up with heavy cheer
And bathed them in a fountain near;
They could not wash that stain away,
It drove them onward day by day
Through many unknown lands till they
Heard rumours of a golden land,
And great men bowed at their command.
Joy grew within them when they found
That they would be so well renowned,
Arm linked in arm they would walk now
With straight drawn lips and unmoved brow,
They pitied those they chanced to see
Not being as they a mystery,
And going Southward nearer drew
To the Golden Land, as they well knew.
At last one morn of autumntide,
As thinking high things they did ride,
They came unto an aspen-wood
Where strange things nowise understood
Lay carved in stone their way beside.
A little further did they ride
That morning of late autumntide
And came out in a wide clear space
And there saw midways of that place
The Castle of the Golden Land.
Christ, it was hard to understand:
Each looked the other in the eyes,
Each saw no trace of wild surprise —
No sign of rage nor of distress,
Nothing but mere blank hopelessness.
They sat down on that slope of green
Where lay the dead men’s bones between
The soft grass and the inner fire,
They seemed to have no one desire
Not e’en for death, till the eldest knight
Who was yet young — Sir John he hight —
He said, “The bones lie in the court,
But did all die there where they fought,
Did none escape and freely rove?
— Knights, have ye ever been in love?”
They said not nay, they said not yea,
Then said he,” Knights, I have a way
To try if God be wholly bad
To us and we to him — yea sad
It may be in the aftertime —
To us it must be sad — now climb
With me this battered rampart-wall,
Link hands and swear together all.”
They stood together, said no word
For many minutes, then a bird
Whose head and legs were yellow, sat
Upon a tower; he looked fat
Because he puffed his feathers so
To screen him, for the wind did blow
Cold and full east — but he was thin:
They thought he looked like a great sin.
Sir John held up his hilt to kiss
Then said, “Now by Christ’s cross swear this
That we three different ways will rove,
Search heartily for a true love,
But when three years have passed by
Come here again to live or die;
For whoso loveth happily
Those three years through, the same shall die,
Him and his love, yea verily
If so it happen to us all
Likeways we and our loves shall fall.”
They swore with curled lips and straight brow,
The loathly bird that stood just now
Upon the tower-top did shrink
To his right size, croaked, gave one blink
And then let fall his yellow head
On his yellow neck and he was dead.
Natheless his body hung up there
Till all the bones were white and bare.
So when three years had passed away
The knights came as they swore that day
Back to the dismal castle-wall,
And each one to tell his love and all
His victory or defeat and fall.
ST. AGNES’ CONVENT
ST AGNES’ convent by the merry sea
That dashes on the shore of Brittany,
The tower that held our great bell, slim and red,
The deep-sunk fearful moat that the sea fed
Twice in a day; the fair churchyard and good
And therein over all the blessed rood,
Mary and John and soldiers with gilt spears
Stone-grey and moveless through these many years;
The hanging yellow flowers in the Church;
The watching from the walls the perilous lurch
Of the o’erladen dromond as it turned
To enter the glad harbour where there burned
Those three coal fires every windy day;
The strong west wind that drove the summer hay,
Driving my hair too all about my face;
That writing-room, each slim nun at her place
Specking the vellum with the red and black;
Our fireside converse wherein was no lack
Of talk about the world, of such a knight
And how he sped, who was held most bright
Of the court ladies, Arthur’s wars and deeds —
Yea I remember setting sunflower seeds
When willow trees were red, I watched them too
When these were grey and waning; justa few
Great bees about me humming all their best
And in that good time every thing had rest —
Gone, gone, Iseult! the happy days of old
Are vanished as a little tale is told:
The gay uprising, the glad lying down
Are gone for ever. To a painful frown
My brows draw when I sleep, for though I fall
Yards, fathoms down in dull dreams, not at all
Do I the less know what I am and what
I want and shall not get; my hands are hot
And moist this wretched day, though the cold wind —
Cold rain — cold air loves well enough to wind
And curl my body like a withered leaf —
This is enough. Moreover, like a thief
Comes creeping through a dark house in the night,
My woe comes on me when I think I might
Be merely wretched with the wind and rain,
But not for any moment will my pain
Grow softer even. Ay turn the mirror, let
Me see Nantes City with its streets afret
PALOMYDES QUEST
ABOUT the middle of the month of June
Sir Palomydes rode upon his quest,
Twixt sunrise and the setting of the moon:
Beast Glatysaunt did give him little rest
At midday, and at midnight must he sleep,
And still the beast trailed on unceasingly
Waking strange echoes in the forest deep,
Leaving strange scales on many a bush or tree.
So the days went and no lovesickness came
O’er the knight’s heart to weaken it or bow
His head; he rode on with the same
Set purpose still in his unwrinkled brow.
Until one day when that he rode thinking
Whether the beast as they met face to face
Would turn to fight him with a sudden spring,
Or creep away and whine in some dark place
Until he bound his jaws and led him out —
And then he thought until his heart grew hot
Of how the folk would laugh and sing and shout
As he should lead the beast through Camelot,
The heralds crying, “Ho good people, see!
For this is Palomydes the good knight
Who hath achieved his quest most gloriously
And won the Questing Beast in open fight!”
Thereat in sooth he almost seemed to be
There in the streets with all the bells ringing
And all the folk at window him to see,
Damsels and minstrels ready for to sing.
Almost he heard the praises of the King
