\.^ ^ 
 
Thi SKAITH of 
 GUILLARDUN 
 
 A BRETON ROMANCE 
 
 BY 
 
 C. WHITWORTH WYNNE 
 
 "Nae maiden lays her skaith to me, 
 I never loved but you." 
 
 Graham of Gartmore. 
 "It lies not in our power to love or hate, 
 For Will in us is over-ruled by Fate. 
 
 Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?" 
 
 - o Marlowe. 
 
 Paul R. Reynolds 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 1907 
 
/ 
 
 iJJirtArtY of CONGRESS* 
 
 
 ivro Ooples Kecelvool 
 
 OCT 2 I90f i ,^ >^' 
 
 Copyrieht Entry I 
 
 COPY ti. I 
 
 Copyright 1907 
 
 BY 
 
 Whitmore Wynne 
 
O FOR the simple themes of old Romance, 
 The world's glad youth now fled forever by ! 
 
 When knights were chivalrous, and lady's glance 
 Could kindle valour in a lover's eye; 
 
 .When lust of gold and worldly circumstance 
 Had not taught men true manhood to decry. 
 
 O souls of lovers, long since passed away, 
 
 Breathe your sweet plainings on this ancient lay! 
 
 Why should we break the chancel of the dead? 
 
 Why wrong them in their everlasting sleep? 
 Why idly deem that their bright souls have fled, 
 
 Whose lives in ours perpetual vigil keep? 
 O where are all our wistful fancies fled 
 
 With thoughts that they around us watch and weep ?- 
 Upon the air some fragrance lingereth yet 
 Of loves and passions that long time have set. 
 
 In Brittany there lived a stainless knight, 
 In gentleness no maid could tenderer be. 
 
 Yet mark him moving thro' the press of fight 
 And none more terrible in arms than he. 
 
 The strong are ever sparing of their might — 
 Mercy the radiant child on Valour's knee. 
 
 And as in war his courage none assail'd, 
 
 In peace his counsel over all prevail'd. 
 
 Thus by slow steps he won the confidence 
 Of his liege-lord, king over all that realm. 
 
 When distant lands call'd his loved master thence, 
 Whose hand but his should guide the state's proud helm? 
 
 Tho' nobles frown'd at his pre-eminence, 
 
 Their muttering thunder him could not o'erwhelm. 
 
 He bent the rebel barons to his will, 
 
 Enforced the feudal vows each should fulfil. 
 
Look not for gratitude from mortal Prince: 
 Sir Eliduc had served his master well 
 
 And faithfully, as one who would convince 
 
 By deeds, not by what braggart speech might tell. 
 
 Rebellion under him did writhe and wince, 
 And for too great a loyalty — he fell ! 
 
 Envy has access swift to royal ears, 
 
 Suspicion never slumbers, never spares ! 
 
 In bitterness of soul, Sir Eliduc 
 
 Grieved that his service long did naught avail ; { 
 
 All joy in life his countenance forsook, \ 
 
 Which now show'd harass'd, drawn, and deathly pale ; : 
 
 His banishment unjust he could not brook, | 
 
 Yet bore with even mind each venomous tale. j 
 
 Such dignity in sorrow still he wore, I 
 
 That those who loved him reverenced him the more. j 
 
 With loyalty unsulhed, home he came 
 
 And in the arms of his loved wife forgot 
 Much of the bitterness and biting shame, 
 
 Too plenteously apportion'd in his lot; 
 The cruel taunts, that fann'd his blood to flame. 
 
 By her were soothed, until they stung him not. 
 Rose at the last the spirit of the man \ 
 
 In fierce revolt at his opprobrious ban. j 
 
 I 
 
 '5 
 
 Then, gathering round him zealous knights and true, > 
 
 He swore to be avenged of his deep wrong. 
 
 The harp of David wrought in him anew — i 
 
 No rebel thoughts against his lord should throng; ;; 
 
 Nor yet, like great Achilles, would he mew ':: 
 
 Himself within his tent, vext griefs among. ; 
 
 His spirit bade him breast the surly seas, | 
 
 Nor bend to Fate's untowardly decrees. ; 
 
With sad farewells to many a trusty friend, 
 
 And straining to his breast his voiceless mate, I 
 
 He vow'd his love would stead her to the end, ! 
 
 Who was his life, the sweet elect of fate, ; 
 That evermore his thoughts would her attend. 
 
 Who might, heart-confident, his coming wait, ] 
 
 Then with sore longing, and of joy bereft, ; 
 
 Launch'd forth, and soon the sounding furrows cleft. '< 
 
 10 ; 
 
 Blow soft, ye winds, to soothe a hero's pillow, \ 
 
 Speak low, ye waves, that plash against his prow, i 
 
 Yet, if ye rage, let not the rolling billow i 
 
 Chafe his wrong'd soul, or vex his troubled brow, ] 
 
 Who under drooping ash and pendent willow ! 
 
 Th' acerbity of Fate did oft avow, j 
 
 Blow high, blow low, your breath is not so rude ' 
 
 As broken troth or man's ingratitude. \ 
 
 I 
 
 And many sunsets drew into the west. 
 
 And many a sunrise smote the kindling main, j 
 
 And many a morning woke his deep unrest, | 
 
 And many a night wore by in sleepless pain, 
 And bodeful anguish well'd within his breast 
 
 For her he nevermore might see again. 
 Till the white cliffs of Albion uprear'd 
 Thro' the soft mist, in pearly pink ensphered. | 
 
 12 1 
 
 So sailing far along that pleasant shore, I 
 
 The hungry seamew ever in his wake, | 
 
 With little left of his provision'd store, > 
 
 Toward Totenois he drew, as day did break, ^| 
 
 Here disembark'd, desirous to explore 1 
 
 The champaign fair, and find if hearts did ache j 
 
 Under a despot's iron-handed rule, I 
 
 Or if kings there had learnt harsh rage to school. ! 
 
13 
 
 Ah, little wot he of the war and strife 
 
 With which that fertile Providence was distraught ! 
 Ah, little wot he that his troublous life 
 
 With greater evil would eftsoons be fraught ! 
 The Angel of dark Fate, with severing knife. 
 
 E'en now the threads of Destiny had caught, 
 The warp and weft in other lives to weave- 
 Thrice vain from those fell hands to expect reprieve ! 
 
 14 
 
 At Excester, not many leagues removed, 
 An aged Monarch ruled, whose only child 
 
 Of all fair ladies was the best beloved, 
 Nathyet had any lover's tongue beguiled. 
 
 Of many suitors, none had she approved, 
 
 Tho' some were gentle, others rough and wild: 
 
 And of these last was one, a neighbouring Prince, 
 
 Who, foil'd in love, by force would her convince. 
 
 15 
 
 Her beauty deepen'd, like a cobalt sky 
 
 When, of an autumn ever, the moon breaks thro' 
 And, piercing the cloudrack racing by, 
 
 Suffuses all the heavens with lustre new; 
 And, like the Queen of Night enthroned on high, 
 
 All lesser beauties paled before her view ; 
 And dark and ravishing her braided hair, 
 Which show'd her face more delicately fair. 
 
 16 
 
 Sith nowise could he gain her sire's consent. 
 Nor win the maid to hearing of his suit. 
 That pride-vext lover, balk'd of his intent, 
 
 Averr'd that he would seize the tempting fruit— 
 Nor guard nor let his passion should prevent. 
 
 Fair Guillardun should bend, tho' pale and mute- 
 So laid the country waste with fire and sword, 
 By maid and childing wife alike abhorr'd. 
 
17 
 
 Now when Sir Eliduc learnt how it fared 
 With this old king, and that he suflFer'd much 
 
 By reason of a savagery that spared 
 
 Nor child nor maid caught up in that fell clutch, 
 
 Like true knight-errant, forthwith he repair'd 
 To Excester, and his address was such 
 
 That he received a gracious welcoming 
 
 From that o'erwrought and venerable king. 
 
 18 
 
 Thus was he bound in service for a year, 
 And straight devised expedients to entrap 
 
 The prince whose ruffian passion wrought such fear, 
 And left in once-bright homes a grievous gap. 
 
 No longer should that raider domineer. 
 And wreck his miscreant wrath without mishap ! 
 
 And many days he turn'd it in his mind 
 
 How best he might that prince of spoilers bind. 
 
 19 
 
 So bode his hour, and soon the chance he sought 
 Came, like the breath of summer, to his soul— 
 
 For flying child and matron tidings brought 
 That the arch-ravisher was levying toll 
 
 As he advanced, with gonfalons, high-wrought. 
 Their beauteous city, Excester, his goal; 
 
 And with him came a press of armed knights. 
 
 Whose glittering plumes the glorious sun bedights. 
 
 20 
 
 To the hoar king thus counsell'd Eliduc— 
 
 Tf your stout knights can hold the city walls, 
 
 I and my men for ambushment will look 
 In the swarth forest that to southward falls. 
 
 Then, when their pristine strength is spent and shook, 
 Or when his bugle from the fight recalls. 
 
 My trusty Breton knights will fall on him, 
 
 And battle shall he have both stark and grim!' 
 
21 
 
 The fire which smoulder'd in those aged eyes 
 Leapt flamelike o'er that kingly countenance, 
 
 With ruddier lights than equatorial skies 
 Take on at sunset, and his burning glance 
 
 The wintry years did swiftly exorcise, 
 And as a boy, in youth's exuberance, 
 
 Sniffs with keen zest the breeze of coming war, 
 
 So courted he the conflict from afar. 
 
 22 
 
 Defeat a brave man will not contemplate, 
 Tho' on the hazard all his hopes depend. 
 
 Let peril knock but at a loved one's gate, 
 
 They first know fear, whom nothing else could bend. 
 
 So, lest the chance of war his arms frustrate, 
 Heart-fear, heart-love did for the maid contend. 
 
 Hence to a castle, deem'd impregnable. 
 
 Fair Guillardun was sent, and guarded well. 
 
 23 
 
 Now happen'd it as Eliduc foresaw — 
 
 Th' assault was press'd with never-wavering zeal. 
 Nathless, in that defence, nor breach nor flaw 
 
 Could the besieger find, nor lodgment steal. 
 Whilst they, with burning pitch, did overawe 
 
 His bolder spirits and their hearts congeal. 
 Wave upon wave with backward hiss withdrew. 
 Yet higher still the next its storm-crests threw ! 
 
 24 
 Hard put was Eliduc to hold in check 
 
 Thro' that long day the ardour of his band. 
 Yet, that no stain their after-glory fleck, 
 
 On straining leash they listed his command. 
 Not doubting of the vengeance he would wreak 
 
 When he should bid them forth with leaping brand. 
 Then, as slow day to swifter evening wore. 
 His voice rang out above the battle's roar. 
 
25 
 
 Thus, taken in the flank by unknown force, 
 Th' invaders now unequal combat wage ! 
 
 Sir Eliduc press'd at their leader's horse, 
 And soon in mortal fray did him engage. 
 
 Now, both unsaddled, each has swift recourse 
 To shorter weapons as befits his rage. 
 
 No sweeter sound the warrior's Hfe affords 
 
 Than the soft clash and chime of crossing swords ! 
 
 26 
 
 Sir Eliduc's bright blade is at his throat, 
 Sir Eliduc's mail'd foot is on his breast, 
 
 The misty meadows round about him float, 
 Yet his unsleeping passion may not rest — 
 
 'Love, Guillardun ! tho' thou art far remote, 
 My spirit thro' all time resumes its quest/ 
 
 So saying closed his eyes on mortal pain, 
 
 To dwell with those lost souls in battle slain. 
 
 27 
 
 Thus Eliduc won honour of the king. 
 
 And many doughty deeds thereafter wrought. 
 
 Yet never did his mind conception bring 
 To view this later Helen all men sought. 
 
 As tho' Fate warn'd him of sweet communing 
 
 With one whose beauty with such ills was fraught! 
 
 And much she marvell'd that he never came. 
 
 Who in her cause had won undying fame. 
 
 28 
 
 And maiden pique and womanly constraint 
 For long a bitter war within her waged; 
 
 Until his harsh neglect she did attaint, 
 
 And her high pride noways could be assuaged ; 
 
 And, of her will, how she might him acquaint. 
 She turn'd it in her mind, so much outraged. 
 
 Perdie, from his own lips, she might request 
 
 The story of the prince's lower'd crest. 
 
29 i 
 
 So^ pleading interest in the prince's death, ; 
 
 She sent a simple message by her squire; l 
 And quickly came and went her tender breath. 
 
 Till she the answer had to her desire; 
 
 And much she question'd of his knightly faith, ^ 
 
 Oft wondering if herself he would admire. ] 
 
 Then 'gan she robe herself with quiet haste, ' 
 Lest he her blithe expectancy outpaced. 
 
 ! 
 
 And she hath placed a red rose in her hair — 
 O not more balmy than her frangrant tresses !— 
 
 And roses three from her bright birdie peer, 
 
 Of that dark tint that Love's true heart confesses ! 
 
 And she is all a rose, as sweet and fair 
 As any that June's gentle sun caresses! 
 
 O cruel Love, to pluck from such a stem 
 
 The freshest, fairest flower the dews begem! 
 
 31 
 
 With fluttering heart she hears his courser's tread. 
 And peeps beyond the lattice fearfully; 
 
 With colouring cheek she notes his noble steed 
 And him who sits it with such dignity. 
 
 Stand back, for Guillardun! the moments speed, 
 Thy woman's fate thou may'st no longer flee! 
 
 A few short breaths and he will kiss thy hand. 
 
 No more thy peace will be at thy command! 
 
 32 
 
 And he hath now her lily hand in his : 
 A lily shaken by the wind she stood, 
 
 For still she feels the tingling of his kiss 
 
 Convey'd by that sweet trespass to her blood. 
 
 The secret that she hoped his eyes might miss 
 Did mantle o'er her cheeks in crimson flood. 
 
 With chaste reserve her gentle hand she frees. 
 
 On silken couch she stays her trembling knees. 
 
33 
 
 And much she ponder'd on his troubled mien, 
 Which did but rouse her interest the more ; 
 
 And much she wonder'd if his smile might screen 
 A grief behind the countenance he wore ; 
 
 With covert glance and lashes droop'd between, 
 His unplumb'd depths next peer'd she to explore. 
 
 For women, ever since fair Eve began, 
 
 Are swift adepts to read the heart of man! 
 
 34 
 
 He takes his leave, and all her sun of life 
 Sinks with his courser in the crimson west; 
 
 And maiden hopes and fears in turgid strife 
 
 Now wage tempestuous war in that fair breast: 
 
 Her deep-drawn sighs are mutinously rife — 
 O to recall that too-late-welcomed guest! 
 
 The stealthy dark draws close on autumn eves. 
 
 Love's plaint alone the brooding silence grieves. 
 
 35 
 
 'Alas,' quoth she, 'what hapless woe is mine 
 To love a stranger knight so tenderly! 
 
 O wherefore at first sight my heart resign, 
 Who know not yet his kinship or degree! 
 
 Ah, fool ; to so entreat him with these eyne — 
 He must, meseems, think very light of me ! 
 
 Perchance he will not stay beyond the morrow. 
 
 And all my days will wear a crowning sorrow. 
 
 36 
 
 'Yet, an he be a true and courteous knight, 
 He never would procure a maid's distress : 
 
 He could not so my tender heart requite. 
 And syne I love him more love me the less ! 
 
 For one so goodly in the world's fair sight 
 Must certes be the soul of gentleness ! 
 
 But should he scorn my love, or slight my name. 
 
 How might I bear this ever-during shame!* 
 
37 
 
 So toss'd upon her pillow fev'rously, 
 
 And all the night with longing sweet outwore ; 
 
 She could not stem her heart's persistency, 
 For with each hope went ever one fear more — 
 
 Now thinking he would love, anon that he 
 Had pledged his heart in sovereign troth before. 
 
 When morn at last the dewy world awoke. 
 
 Love's sleepless vigil her flush'd cheeks bespoke. 
 
 38 
 
 Then, summoning her trusty chamberlain, 
 To his close ear her heart she did confide — 
 
 'Speech must I have with that true knight again. 
 Whatever ill or woe to me betide. 
 
 His lustrous eyes I may not long sustain. 
 Which, if he love me not, my death decide. 
 
 O speak ! how may the heart of maiden tell 
 
 H him she loves, eke loveth her full well?' 
 
 39 
 
 And thus to her the sage old counsellor — 
 
 Tf you of this knight's love would have sure proof, 
 
 Despatch to him a ring that you once wore 
 Or girdle-belt, and if he stand aloof 
 
 And your bright gifts forthwith to you restore. 
 Then know the knight is deaf to your behoof. 
 
 But, if he wear your favour or your ring. 
 
 Cast doubt aside — he is your true heart's king.' 
 
 40 
 
 And she hath sent a ruby ring thrice-kiss'd, 
 As token of her love's consuming fire; 
 
 And she hath sent a girdle that she list 
 
 Might clasp him with the arms of her desire ; 
 
 And scarcely could her tender heart subsist. 
 So vehemently did her soul suspire. 
 
 O Love, how fathomless are thy decrees ! 
 
 Thy bane is deadlier than the darksome seas ! 
 
41 
 
 How fared it with the knight, Sir EHduc? 
 
 Was he too taken in the self-same toils? — 
 As one, who on the burnish'd sun doth look, 
 
 Bedazed and sightless on himself recoils, 
 So with Love's blinding brilliance was he shook. 
 
 Her pail sweet face his inward peace despoils. 
 Who, that hath felt Love's mighty surges roll, 
 Can weigh the currents that o'erwhelm the soul? 
 
 42 
 
 What of his knighthood, and his knightly vow? 
 
 What of his pHghted troth, and broken trust? 
 What of a pride that not the world could bow? 
 
 What of his honour, spilt upon the dust? 
 All these were weigh'd, but these are not enow 
 
 When Love the tender scales of faith adjust ! 
 His wife's bedimm'd and desolated face 
 Now to a pale and crescent moon gives place. 
 
 43 
 
 Now Passion hath him in her silken snare, 
 
 Now dwells he on her bosom's ripening charm, 
 
 Now riots in the luxury of her hair, 
 Now wantons where no hindrance doth disarm. 
 
 Now fires he at the bliss that seems so near. 
 Now cools, now burns, one moment never calm. 
 
 And by these veering winds of hot desire 
 
 His unruled thought hath set his heart afire. 
 
 44 
 
 Reader, you deem my epithet misplaced. 
 And that a stain'd not 'stainless' knight was he. 
 
 Yet, till this hour. Sir Eliduc was chaste. 
 In thought and deed the glass of chivalry. 
 
 Ah, judge not this true knight in soulless haste, 
 For who of mortal men is passion free? 
 
 And some may cavil that he fell too soon — 
 
 Love counts not Time by changes of the moon ! 
 
45 
 
 All terrors that a noble mind constrict 
 
 When tost in anguish dire or tempest throe, 
 
 All pains that outraged conscience can inflict, 
 All toils that passionate natures undergo, 
 
 All tremors that the faithless heart convict. 
 All these he harbour'd in his sleepless woe. 
 
 Dawn-sweet desires drove night's dull fears away 
 
 His scruples fled before the full-orb'd day! 
 
 46 
 
 So, when Love's welcome messenger appear'd 
 And her heart's treasury open'd to his view, 
 
 Madly thro' all his veins his blood career'd — 
 What need of eloquence. Love's words are few ! 
 
 Her girdle soon his glittering mail ensphered. 
 And, where it press'd, it did with fire endue. 
 
 The token sweet of her unaltering faith 
 
 From his third finger's glimmers all too rath! 
 
 47 
 
 His fiery destrier now champings stands; 
 
 The rimy cobbles to his hoof resound; 
 Each glowing nostril fev'rously expands ; 
 
 His volley'd breath smokes fast along the ground ; 
 Impatiently he waits his lord's commands, 
 
 With twitching ears that strain at every sound. 
 Now mounts the knight to do his Love's behest; 
 Now to those glossy flanks the spur is press'd. 
 
 48 
 
 Whileas his foam-fleck'd course cut the air, 
 His boisterous heart ne'er omen'd the abyss 
 
 That yawns in front of those who love foreswear. 
 The richest prize in all the world was his— 
 
 A jewel that the mightiest king might wear- 
 Why had his laggard soul been so remiss? 
 
 How many loveless days untimely sped. 
 
 When every moment now was harvested ! 
 
49 
 
 What greater joy doth man's vext life afiford 
 Than to behold the soul of his desire 
 
 Expectantly awaiting Love's first word — 
 
 That master-word for which the Fates conspire? 
 
 The jewels that within her eyes are stored 
 A softer, deeper radiancy acquire ; 
 
 Like loadstars flashing thro' a wintry night, 
 
 They put all faint resolves to instant flight ! 
 
 50 
 
 He strains her to his passion-laden breast; 
 
 Like to a sheltering dove she seeks his arms. 
 His ardent lips against her own are press'd ; 
 
 She thrills and pants with poignant sweet alarms. 
 He straight disburdens him of love's unrest; 
 
 She breathes upon him all her fragrant charms. 
 His ravish'd eyes her rising colour note^ 
 And the swift heart-throbs at her column d throat. 
 
 51 
 
 Yet such the robe of innocence she wore, — 
 So pure and stainless was her virgin faith, — 
 
 I^or very knighthood he his strength forbore, 
 To him she should not owe her maiden scath ! 
 
 How could he bring dishonour to her door, 
 And make of her heart's love a piteous wraith? 
 
 No ! whilst he yet had courage to endure, 
 
 Her soul's distress he never would procure. 
 
 52 
 
 With many a brave and virtuous resolve. 
 
 His passion sore chastised more chasten'd grew. 
 
 Now doth his vacillating mind revolve 
 If it were wise such visits to renew. 
 
 Nor could he yet his smoking heart absolve, 
 Which kept the pale temptation full in view — 
 
 O Love, how may we bolt on thee the door. 
 
 Who entry can'st by unknown ways procure? 
 
53 
 
 Suffice it that they met on many eves, 
 And cuird the sweetness of each other's heart ; 
 
 Suffice it that no spectral shadow grieves 
 With thought that they can ever Hve apart. 
 
 The maid in his fond love herself deceives, 
 The knight hath long forgot his bitter smart. 
 
 This earth for them was paradise enow — 
 
 What richer could the blowing heavens bestow? 
 
 54 
 
 The sweetest dream foretells a rude awaking, 
 True love is oft the harbinger of pain — 
 
 How many hearts upon Life's wheel are breaking! 
 How many lips will seal their love in vain ! 
 
 How many souls, all earthly hopes forsaking, 
 Will yet set out upon Love's shoreless main ! 
 
 Witness these lovers — each had greatly dared. 
 
 So thro' the world they twain together fared. 
 
 55 
 
 But swift upon their dream came winged Fate — 
 Time had avenged him of his cruel wrong. 
 
 The land he loved fierce war did desolate. 
 
 Whilst round his liege a crowd of traitors throng. 
 
 Him now his anxious lord would reinstate. 
 
 And, vex'd that he his sojourn should prolong, 
 
 Besought him by his oath of fealty 
 
 To pressingly take ship across the sea. 
 
 56 
 
 Forthwith resolved, he sought the king, her sire, 
 And straight disclosed the seal of his recall. 
 
 'My lord,' quoth he, 'since you no more require 
 My faith and sword, for Peace reigns over all, 
 
 Of your free grace permit me to retire 
 
 To mine own land, which traitors hold in thrall. 
 
 Whilst danger threatens Brittany's dear lord, 
 
 My homage bids me carry hence my sword.' 
 
57 
 
 As lowering- clouds roll off the mountain's brow 
 When the full majesty of heaven bursts thro', 
 
 So lighten'd the king's face. His liegeman's vow 
 The genial monarch graciously withdrew. 
 
 Amply his friend's tried faith he did endow, 
 And wish'd success might wait on arms so true. 
 
 He then embraced the knight, and bade him seek 
 
 Fair Guillardum, his bitter news to break. 
 
 58 
 
 Sir Eliduc hath ta'en the maid aside, 
 And told her of the grief that him bestead. 
 
 His master's call might never be denied, 
 Tho' parting fill'd his heart with pressing dread. 
 
 Still manfully he must that pang abide. 
 And she, who wist not yet that he was wed 
 
 And fain had kept him near her evermore, 
 
 Against his breast love's passionate plaint did pour- 
 
 59 
 
 'Dear lord, your absence I may not sustain. 
 For I should die of anguish you being gone. 
 
 Perchance you might in battail sore be slain. 
 And I be left to everlasting moan! 
 
 Let not the waves dispart, nor winds constrain 
 Hearts that reverberate and beat as one ! 
 
 Beside you, I can banish thought of fear; 
 
 Without you, harsh suspense I could not bear.' 
 
 60 
 
 He penn'd her in his bosom's massy fold- 
 She felt the heave of that tempestuous heart- 
 Then full at arm's length did her sweet face hold, 
 
 Then drew her lips to his to ease his smart. 
 And all around them beeches rain'd their gold, 
 For Autumn here lay slain by Winter's dart.' 
 Her falling tears the russet wood-ways soak. 
 And chill and drear his numbling accents broke— 
 
61 
 
 'I may not take you with me, hertes dear, 
 Because of the deep faith I owe the king; 
 
 But this I promise — ere another year 
 
 Shall pass to fading leaf, it shall me bring 
 
 Back to your arms that all my world ensphere, 
 And for my pledge I give this golden ring.' 
 
 For answer she her wan face raised to his, 
 
 And seal'd him hers with one long deathless kiss. 
 
 62 
 
 Ah, fortunate that leagues of sea divide 
 
 The coast of Bretagne from fair Albion's shore ! 
 
 For those first severing days intensified 
 
 The gnawing anguish that his heart outwore. 
 
 Like one benumb'd, he view'd the ocean wide 
 And the white cliffs receding more and more. 
 
 When shadowy dusk across the waters crept, 
 
 Like one distraught his sentinel watch he kept. 
 
 63 
 
 And to the night winds cried out 'Guillardun,' 
 And thrice thro' space he call'd her tristfully 
 
 And 'Guillardun' he sigh'd to the pale moon, 
 And silverly responds the argent sea; 
 
 And evermore was 'Guillardun' his rune, 
 The music of her name his lullaby. 
 
 Whilst morn or ever her passionate pale face 
 
 Rose up to shatter his resolvd' peace. 
 
 64 
 
 Now all his mind was torn with love of her, 
 Yet from that knowledge he must screen his wife. 
 
 He could not be that true heart's murderer, 
 Whose love for him transcended love of life. 
 
 If she once read his soul's sad register, 
 
 He had not languishd'd long in mordant strife! 
 
 For she was cast in such heroic mould. 
 
 In martyrdom her passing bell had toll'd. 
 
65 
 
 Twixt Scylla and Charybdis of his fate, 
 
 On rock or whirlpool his riven heart must break. 
 
 Was ever knight in such a parlous strait? 
 Doth Fortune evermore her son forsake ? 
 
 Ah, only ye who learnt of Love too late 
 Can judge of his interminable ache! 
 
 He now endured, not sought his wife's caress ; 
 
 Yet in his heart he did not love her less. 
 
 66 
 
 But this new love did overwhelm his being, 
 He might not put it from him for an hour. 
 
 Each time he sought escape from Fate's decreeing. 
 Fell Love pursued him with relentless power. 
 
 Ah, hapless mortals, far beyond our seeing 
 
 Is that bright gift — the God's most fatal dower! 
 
 Can'st conquer love ? Ah, folly 'twere to try it ! 
 
 Yet still more foolish ye who think to fly it ! 
 
 67 
 
 And she, poor soul, perceived that he was changed, 
 Yet nowise could her mind divine the cause. 
 
 She felt his foretime love for her estranged. 
 And scann'd her heart for any seeming flaws — 
 
 Could he conceive that her sweet faith had ranged, 
 Who only sunn'd herself in his applause? 
 
 The world for her one man alone contain'd. 
 
 His alienated love the more constrained. 
 
 68 
 
 But little saw she of her pensive lord. 
 
 Whom king and country call'd from her chaste arms. 
 Her task to watch and wait, till Time restored 
 
 That sweet accustom'd tribute to her charms, 
 For surely Victory would crown his sword? — 
 
 Rich in this thought her bodeful heart she calms. 
 Poor stricken dove, the worst is yet to come ! 
 Ah, better death than Love's fast-closing doom! 
 
69 
 
 Sir Eliduc, now raised to highest trust, 
 
 And charged with the defences of the realm, 
 Cared Httle for the seals upon him thrust, 
 
 So that betimes he might his foes o'erwhelm. 
 One face before him fired the battle's lust, 
 
 Delay he found in each opposing helm- 
 So that he hew'd about him with fierce zeal, 
 And hapless he who cross'd that trenchant steel! 
 
 70 
 
 Within the measured time, he did compel 
 Th' insurgent baronage to sue for peace. 
 
 Then from the master he had served so well 
 Claim'd as reward an opportune release. 
 
 The turmoil at his heart he could not quell. 
 His headstrong passion did the more increase. 
 
 So, giving out the pledge for his return, 
 
 Once more his prow the frothy seas doth spurn. 
 
 71 
 
 His heart sings louder than the soaring gale. 
 His bosom riots in the blustering breeze. 
 
 His cheeks caress the lash of sleet and hail, 
 His spirit soars beyond the thundering seas, 
 
 His eager eyes peer thro' the watery veil 
 For those white cliffs that can alone appease, 
 
 His plunging prow disdains the arrowy blast, 
 
 His full sail swells before the straining mast. 
 
 72 
 
 He lands, and still he feels the rocking main 
 Beneath his feet— or doth his stout heart fail? 
 
 For honour to the last doth wildly strain 
 Against ignoble love— Ah, sad assail! 
 
 For now his mandate speeds to her amain 
 To meet him in the shadow of the pale. 
 
 When night o'er all her sable shroud hath thrown. 
 
 And she on wings of love to him hath flown. 
 
73 
 
 They met near by a pinewood's friendly shade : 
 O long and passionate their rapt embraces ! 
 
 Night's orb ensilvers all the forest glade: 
 O paler than her beams their ashen faces! 
 
 His love's dark tresses 'gainst his armour play'd, 
 As seaward sped his barb thro' moonlit spaces. 
 
 Now far, far out upon the glistening tide 
 
 These lovers in close-clasp'd enthalment glide ! 
 
 74 
 
 Now made they full amends for their lost days ! — 
 O ye that long have languish'd in suspense, 
 
 Cross'd with the bitterness of love's delays, 
 Ye only sound their spirits' opulence ! — 
 
 He thrill'd with joy each time he met her gaze, 
 And sunn'd his soul in sheer munificence ; 
 
 She gather'd all the rapture to her heart. 
 
 And found in giving Love's diviner part. 
 
 75 
 
 But Destiny swoop'd darkling on their course : 
 For, as they near'd the sunny shores of France, 
 
 A storm arose of such portentous force 
 
 Their sail was rent, and many a dire mischance 
 
 Befell the affrighted crew ; and vain remorse 
 Unloosed slow tongues to surly utterance — 
 
 The laws of God and man their chief had spurn'd. 
 
 His lady in the deep should be intern'd. 
 
 76 
 
 Sorely the knight chastised their cowardice — 
 He fell'd their leader, and his corpse did throw 
 
 To the vext seas, a signal sacrifice, 
 
 That all might learn the way that traitors go. 
 
 But, when he turn'd to meet his love's dear eyes, 
 Their light was quench'd before that direful blow. 
 
 Too late her heart divined that he was wed, 
 
 And with the knowledge her sweet soul had fled. 
 
n 
 
 Still masterful, th' unruly helm he seized, 
 
 And by his seacraft weather'd that fierce gale ; 
 Yet noway could his anger be appeased 
 
 Against the traitorous tongues that wrought his bale- 
 Harsh retribution now his passion eased, 
 
 Anon with stripes he did his own flesh flail. 
 Distraught, he drave his vessel up the shore. 
 Then leaping, landward his pale burden bore. 
 
 78 
 
 He now remember'd, as he rode towards home, 
 An hermit's sanctuary all husht and dim. 
 
 Unto this restful chapel is he come 
 To leave his lady's loved remains with him. 
 
 Till o'er her he might raise a lustrous dome. 
 
 Which the pale moon with peaceful light should brim. 
 
 But, when he came anigh that holy door, 
 
 The silent fane seem'd stiller than of yore. 
 
 79 
 
 And, where that hoar recluse was wont to pray. 
 
 The hillock of his everlasting rest 
 Rose moist and miry from the new-turn'd clay — 
 
 Not long his spirit had rejoin'd the blest. 
 At that lone shrine the knight his love did lay. 
 
 His crimson cloak about her silence press'd. 
 Then unto the great King and Lord of all 
 In utter desolation did he call. 
 
 80 
 
 'O Thou who fashion'd her so beautiful, 
 Forgive the hapless love that wrought her doom ! 
 
 How could this heart its passionate impulse rule 
 Before a flower of such transcendent bloom! 
 
 O Thou who dost our errant natures school, 
 And hast this heart enfolden in her tomb, 
 
 Cleanse and renew thy servant's sin-stain'd mind, 
 
 And let him in Thy bosom respite find! 
 
81 
 
 'Yet she was innocent, in thought and deed, 
 Mine is the guilt, as mine th' undying shame. 
 
 Thou, in Thy wisdom, hast her pure soul freed. 
 That she might never live to bear the blame. 
 
 Thou, only Thou, know'st my exceeding need — 
 O pardon grant in Christ's most previous Name ! 
 
 And evermore, throughout my length of days, 
 
 My penitence in stone to Thee Til raise.' 
 
 82 
 
 He kneels all mute beside his silent dove. 
 His crisped locks white as new fallen snow; 
 
 And thrice he kiss'd the pale lips of his love, 
 And thrice his hand caress'd the marble brow : 
 
 Then drew his silken scarf her face above. 
 And round her form did lenten lilies strow. 
 
 Now with bent head, and passion incomplete, 
 
 He homeward turns his anxious wife to greet. 
 
 83 
 
 With lightsome heart she hears his safe return. 
 And in rich vesture doth herself array; 
 
 Her veins run ichor, her warm pulses burn. 
 
 Whilst roseate blushes round her cheeks do play ; 
 
 All shadowy doubts her joyous mind doth spurn — 
 Will he not kiss her fondling fears away? 
 
 Once more to be enfolden in his arms 
 
 Were recompense for all her past alarms ! 
 
 84 
 
 But when she view'd his countenance o'ercast. 
 His down-droopt eye, his hair all silvery white, 
 
 A dreadful fear fell like an icy blast 
 Upon her soul, and wither'd all delight. 
 
 Thro' some fierce conflict her dear lord has pass'd, 
 His pallid looks her wofully aflfright. 
 
 Straight all her woman's heart went out to him, 
 
 Her soft caressing eyes bright tears bedim. 
 
85 
 
 She did not press him with unwelcome speech — 
 
 Silence is oft the truest comforter ! 
 She knew his soul towards hers must sometime reach, 
 
 And that their spirits would at length confer. 
 His loyalty she never would impeach, 
 
 For out of all the world he'd chosen her. 
 She could in sooth her present wish forego, 
 Till he should choose to unburden all his woe. 
 
 86 
 
 But several days went by, and still he fed 
 
 On his own thoughts, and pined, and grieved the more 
 
 And she was told how all his journeyings led 
 Thro' that dark forest to the hermit's door. 
 
 He could not so lament the old man dead. 
 And over this new wonder 'gan she pore. 
 
 Till at the last the woman in her cried 
 
 That it was shameful thus to be denied. 
 
 87 
 
 So, ere the first pale streaks of light appear'd. 
 She thro' that darksome forest wanly crept; 
 
 An old retainer, whom her lord revered, 
 
 Went with her, whilst the drowsy hamlet slept 
 
 And, when that lowly hermitage they near'd, 
 She trembHngly across the threshold stept — 
 
 Where lo, before the altar, mute and still, 
 
 A form that did all loveliness fulfil! 
 
 88 
 
 No more she marvell'd that her lord was sad. 
 When she beheld that face in death so fair. 
 
 For this was he in speechless woe yclad — 
 Her witchery had ta'en him unaware. 
 
 Of his devotion not a doubt she had. 
 
 Such beauty would the truest heart ensnare. 
 
 With poignant pity for her stricken lord. 
 
 No longer she her own dark grief did hoard. 
 
89 
 
 And, as she sorrow'd by that silent shrine, 
 
 A weasel ran from out the coverlet 
 That Guillardtin's fair body did confine, 
 
 Which, when her squire perceived, he straightway set 
 Himself to slay, and struck across the spine — 
 
 Its rash intrusion did his wrath beget — 
 Then flung the dead thing testily aside, 
 Ere his sweet mistress that rude stroke could chide. 
 
 90 
 
 But soon astonishment their senses bound — 
 Its furry mate, returning from the wood. 
 
 Ran full upon her partner's death-like swo.und. 
 And over his mute form immobile stood; 
 
 Then 'gan she search for his so grievous wound, 
 Raising the listless head in puzzled mood. 
 
 Eftsoons she scurried to a lonely heath, 
 
 And bore back with a red flower in her teeth. 
 
 91 
 
 This fragrant herb she placed upon the tongue 
 Of her drowsed love, who therewith did revive. 
 
 And perkily upon his helpmate hung ; 
 She capers in her joy to see him live ; 
 
 Athwart the forest shades they blithely sprung. 
 Discarding the sweet flower of Love's reprieve. 
 
 A petal of that rosy amulet 
 
 Between her rival's lips the lady set. 
 
 92 
 
 Who, waking as from sleep, bewilder'd gazed 
 About the curious place in wan dismay ; 
 
 Then loo'd upon that gentle dame amazed, 
 And flute-like fell her voice from far away, 
 
 'Some harrowing dream hath all my senses dazed 
 Methought that in my winding sheet I lay. 
 
 And that my love had ever me forsaken — 
 
 O speak ; for thy soft eyes compassion waken.' 
 
93 
 
 Straight was she gather'd to that guileless breast, 
 And precious tears upon her neck do fall ; 
 
 Now 'gan they rock their paining hearts to rest, 
 And to each other seem they all in all. 
 
 P'air Guillardun her tender love confest, 
 Unwitting that her words were barb'd with gall ; 
 
 Her auditor, with countenance serene, 
 
 Her own dull ache beneath her smiles did screen. 
 
 94 
 
 Now towards the dawn they glide with love-lock'd hands- 
 One dark and stately as the forest pines, 
 
 One fairer than the silver-streaming sands 
 When in the waning heavens the light declines. 
 
 The one, imperial, all men's hearts commands, 
 The other with a softer radiance shines. 
 
 A splendid contrast in their varying charm, 
 
 To either it were hard to assign the palm ! 
 
 95 
 
 The mists disperse, and lo ! before their eyes, j 
 
 The sun's rays visualising scarp and tower, J 
 
 Sir Eliduc's broad battlements uprise; \ 
 
 The warming landscape glistens like a flower i 
 
 When on its vestments morn's first emerald lies ; ' ; 
 
 The lark's blithe carol greets the stirring hour; ; 
 
 And on the air the sounds of busy life 
 
 Proclaim another day of toil and strife. ; 
 
 96 i 
 
 Where kneels the knight, absorbed in silent prayer, ] 
 
 With eyes enchain'd upon the glowing Cross? t 
 
 In his husht oratory, unaware i 
 
 How near is all his joy and all his loss; ; 
 
 The sunlight streams athwart his silver hair, | 
 
 And gilds the figures that his sword emboss. , 
 
 A hand is on his shoulder gently laid — 
 
 He turns, and sees the semblance of his maid. ^ 
 
97 
 
 'Love Gtiillardun ! this vision Christ assign'd, 
 As token that my pardon is procured; 
 
 For all my soul in fruitless grief repined 
 Until thy sweet forgiveness was assured; 
 
 Now on thy lips there breathes a placid wind, 
 Condoning that deep wrong thou hast endured. 
 
 O kiss me once, if but in spirit-wise, 
 
 Ere thou shalt fade before my spell-bound eyes!' 
 
 98 
 
 'My lord, it is no vision thou beholdest, 
 
 But her whom once thy passion didst constrain; 
 
 And, tho' thy heart my heart for aye enfoldest. 
 Not in this life shall we our hope attain ; 
 
 Return to her from whom thou now withholdest 
 The love that is her dearest earthly gain. 
 
 Renunciation is our portion here. 
 
 Let each be worthy of the cross we bear!' 
 
 99 
 
 And scarcely had she spoken, when a voice 
 
 Fell, like a chant from heaven, upon their souls : 
 
 'You twain shall in your deathless love rejoice. 
 
 Since He who made our hearts, their need controls. 
 
 For my brief days I ask no fairer choice— 
 His service more than earthyly love consoles. 
 
 Little is left save sweet humility 
 
 To plead v/ith the dear Christ for you and me.' 
 
 100 
 
 Years pass'd : and where that lowly hermitage 
 Secluded stood, a stately fane uprose. 
 
 To breathe its peace on each succeeding age. 
 Its first Abbesse her too-short life did close 
 
 In deeds that e'en the bitterest grief assuage. 
 Her memory with Time but brighter glows. 
 
 The knight therafter wed his Guillardun, 
 
 And perfect love did all their days attune. 
 
OCT. 2 1907 
 
.J 
 
LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
 
 ■Mi.