Once a Week (magazine)/Series 1/Volume 7/The lightsome ladye
THE LIGHTSOME LADYE.
I.
From Arlec’s towers a knight went forth,
In burnished steel ’yclad,
Sad-coloured trappings on his horse,
No cognisance he had.
II.
No badge, his visor closely barred,
His lineage none might tell;
And on his shield his sole device—
“Passants! Priez pour Elle.”
III.
All for a lightsome ladye’s love
He took his lance in hand,
And left fair Arlec’s pointed towers
For wooded Brocelande.
IV.
What time it chanced he saw a knight,
By two knights sorely pressed,
“Pour elle!” he cried, and spurred his steed,
And put his lance in rest.
V.
The craven twain fled, and the knight
Bade him his good name tell;
“Messer! en remembrance de moy,”
He saith, “Priez pour Elle.”
VI.
The while his lightsome ladye rode,
Under the green woods free,
On milk-white steed chasing the deer,
With gallant lovers three.
VII.
He cheered a pilgrim faint with dole,
Whose words in blessings fell;
He knelt, but craved no benison,
He saith, “Priez pour Elle.”
VIII.
And in her bower his ladye love
Braided her hair with pearls,
And smiled upon a gentle page,
Smoothing his sunny curls.
IX.
He met a knight in Brocelande,
On mounted Destrière,
Dragged at his side a lovely maid,
Tied by her knotted hair.
X.
Swords flash, the base knight wounded falls,
Free is the Damoiselle;
“En guerdon mande ce qui vëu,”
He saith, “Priez pour Elle.”
XI.
In a chapelle his ladye-love
The while her sins confessed,
Her dove-like eyes pierce Monseigneur
Thro’ rochet, alb, and vest.
XII.
Fighting for old King Marcomar,
He won him back his crown;
They bore him from the tented plain,
And gently laid him down.
XIII.
With helm unlaced, visor unbarred,
He sees the light of day,
All leechcraft vain, wounded to death,
His life-blood ebbs away.
XIV.
The while his lightsome ladye-love
Twisted a scarlet twine,
A bonnie bird perched on her wrist
And broke the slender line.
XV.
“Gentil oiseau! gentil oiseau!
Viens sur mes jolis doigts,
Sçavoir nouvelles des amants
T’es venu maintes fois.
XVI.
“Sçavoir lequel est occidé,
Monseigneur ou Messire
Nenni, mon beau page fidèle,
Gentil oiseau! faites ouïr!”
XVII.
“Ne Monseigneur, ne beau Messer,
Ne gentil Dameret,
Royne d’amour, belle Yseult,
Pour toy trépasserait.
XVIII.
“Plus sainct étez que Monseigneur
Plus loyal que Messire,
Plus beau que gentil Dameret,
Etez ton Chevalier!”
XIX.
“Gentil oiseau! gentil oiseau!
Ayez de moy mercye,
Que si est mort mon Chevalier,
Ne tiens point à la vye.
XX.
“Alme loyal! vaillante espèe,
Sir Tristan de Bretagne—
Adieu! ‘Qui me gagne me perd,
Et qui me perd me gagne!’”
XXI.
She died,—well for her in that hour,—
From north, south, east, and west
Much interceding prayer went forth
For her soul’s lasting rest.
XXII.
“Ci gist la très hault puissante
Yseult, belle des belles!”
Is on her tomb; on his alone—
“Passants! Priez pour Elle!”