Poems (Hinchman)/"Now shame come to this heart of mine

by Anne Hinchman

XXXV SIR ANASTASIUS

"Now shame come to this heart of mine
 For loving true and long;
No peace nor pleasure have I found,
 But woe and weary wrong.

"Yet, oh, my lady's eyes are bright!
 Nay, but her tongue's a sword;
'T is fifty deaths a day I die,
 Slain by her cruel word.

"One death's enough a man to die,
 My bright brand I will pull
And thrust it deep into my heart
 Till it drink my life's blood full."

He has taken his sword from out its sheath
 And turn'd it in his hand,
Now nay, for bitter love is sweet,
 Has put by his shining brand.

It was dusky eve before starlight,
 The sun had sunk full low;
He has wander'd far in the sombre wood,
 Still brooding on his woe.

He has wander'd far in the dusky shade,
 "Would my love were at my side,
No fair word has she given to me,
 Now would that I had died."

The pale, pale sky bent overhead
 As he stepp'd from the wood,
And white against the dark, dark copse
 A wonder where he stood:

A lady, white as the shining moon,
 No dress nor shoe had she,
Close follow'd by a mounted knight
 Whom she did ever flee;
And ever as she fled before
 As swiftly on came he;

And ever in her panting flight
 Two hounds leapt there along.
They have torn the flesh of her white, white side
 And bath'd each eager tongue.

The knight has come to the lady's side,
 She has fallen on her knee.
Now: "Mercy, mercy, for your past love
 Take not my heart from me."

The knight has lifted his heavy sword,
 The hounds fret at her side;
Anastasius starts from his bitter trance
 And: "Hold, Sir Knight!" he has cried.

"It were great wrong to slay a man
 Naked and fallen as she;
Now shame, Sir Knight, to chase as prey
 A delicate, fair lady!"

He has taken a stick of the sturdy oak
 And to part them he is fain.
"Let be, let be, and thou shalt see
 Thy mercy is in vain.

"Hear first my tale that I will tell,
 A tale that fiends would move:
This lady when we liv'd on earth
 Did scorn my too great love.

"My all I spent to give to her
 What man can think to give,
But such her cruelty to me
 Man could not bear and live;
With this same sword I took my life,
 And Heaven let her not live.

"Let be, let be, and thou shalt see
 What Heaven has order'd so:
My love is turn'd to bitter hate,
 Ah me, a greater woe!
And she that scorn'd my love before
 Would have it now I trow."

The knight sweeps down his darksome sword,
 To the hounds he throws her heart.
"Each Friday here this must be done
 As slow day doth depart;
As many years this must be done
 As months she wore my heart."

Afar she flies through the fallen gloom,
 The knight pursues again.
Anastasius museth: "For my lady
 To see this I were fain.

"For my lady bright to have seen this night
 This vision I were fain.
A Friday here must she be brought
 When day is at the wane."

·········

With mirth and song and talk among,
 To supper there is set
A company, with gaiety
 There in the wild wood met.

The feast is stopp'd on the table-board,
 The harper drops his hand,
Each lightsome maid is now afraid,
 Each lover is unmann'd.

A wondrous sight! a lady bright,
 Slain by a phantom lord;
She let him seek a desperate death,
 She dies by the same sword.

One lady, of all that company,
 Is white as the vision there,
In the crimson gown that she has on,
 Is her pale face wondrous fair.

She has risen up from the table-board,
 And never a word said she.
But the priest has join'd two silent hands;
Anastasius turns to her where she stands,
 And a kiss of her lips has he.