The Defence of Guenevere and Other PoemsA. Moring, 1904 - 255 стор. |
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Alice arms art thou kind Arthur's ballad Beata mea Domina belle jaune giroflée belle La Marguerite blood blue brow castellan Chimay Christ Clisson Constable of France dead dear DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE Dinadan dream Ellayne English Poetry eyes face fair lord feet fell flowers Froissart Gauwaine green grew grey Guendolen Guenevere Guesclin Guienne hand head heart INTRODUCTION Iseult Jacquerie Jehane JOHN CURZON Kelmscott Press King kiss knight lady Launcelot lily-seed to find lips Lord LYONESS Malory Margaret of Antioch Morris Ozana Palomydes pennon poems poet poetry pray qu'elle est belle RAPUNZEL ride rode Romantic Rossetti round scarce scarlet seem'd sing SIR LAMBERT SIR PETER spears stone Stones of Venice sweet sword tell Tennyson things thou art blind thou art sad thou wanderest tune of Seven turn'd walls wanderest the lily-seed weep WELLAND RIVER William Morris wind
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Сторінка 242 - He paweth in the valley and rejoiceth in his strength: He goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted; Neither turneth he back from the sword. The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear and the shield. He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage: Neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha; And he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.
Сторінка 229 - SUMMER DAWN PRAY but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips, Think but one thought of me up in the stars. The summer night waneth, the morning light slips, Faint and grey 'twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars, That are patiently waiting there for the dawn : Patient and colourless, though Heaven's gold Waits to float through them along with the sun. Far out in the meadows, above the young corn, The heavy elms wait...
Сторінка lviii - Listen, suppose your time were come to die, And you were quite alone and very weak; Yea, laid a dying while very mightily "The wind was ruffling up the narrow streak Of river through your broad lands running well: Suppose a hush should come, then some one speak: " 'One of these cloths is heaven, and one is hell, Now choose one cloth for ever; which they be, I will not tell you, you must somehow tell " 'Of your own strength and mightiness; here, seel...
Сторінка 201 - With kirtle kilted to her knee, To which the mud splash'd wretchedly; And the wet dripp'd from every tree Upon her head and heavy hair, And on her eyelids broad and fair; The tears and rain ran down her face. By fits and starts they rode apace, And very often was his place Far off from her; he had to ride Ahead, to see what might betide When the roads cross'd; and sometimes, when There rose a murmuring from his men, Had to turn back with promises; Ah, me!
Сторінка 230 - IN PRISON Wearily, drearily, Half the day long, Flap the great banners High over the stone; Strangely and eerily Sounds the wind's song, Bending the banner-poles. While, all alone, Watching the loophole's spark, Lie I, with life all dark, Feet tether'd, hands fetter'd Fast to the stone, The grim walls, square letter'd With prison'd men's groan. Still strain the banner-poles Through the wind's song, Westward the banner rolls Over my wrong.
Сторінка 7 - So — let God's justice work! Gauwaine, I say, See me hew down your proofs: yea, all men know Even as you said how Mellyagraunce one day, "One bitter day in la Fausse Garde...
Сторінка 163 - And my hair is all turn'd grey, But I met Sir John of the Fen Long ago on a summer day, And am glad to think of the moment when I took his life away. I am threescore and ten, And my strength is mostly pass'd, But long ago I and my men, When the sky was overcast, And the smoke roll'd over the reeds of the fen, Slew Guy of the Dolorous Blast.
Сторінка 200 - HAD she come all the way for this, To part at last without a kiss ? Yea, had she borne the dirt and rain That her own eyes might see him slain Beside the haystack in the floods...
Сторінка 205 - For those long fingers, and long feet, And long neck, and smooth shoulders sweet; An end that few men would forget That saw it — So, an hour yet : Consider, Jehane, which to take Of life or death!
Сторінка 204 - You know that I should strangle you While you were sleeping; or bite through Your throat, by God's help: ah!" she said. "Lord Jesus, pity your poor maid! For in such wise they hem me in, I cannot choose but sin and sin, Whatever happens: yet I think They could not make me eat or drink, And so should I just reach my rest." "Nay, if you do not my behest, O Jehane! though I love you well," Said Godmar, "would I fail to tell All that I know?