Classic Poem

Lady Beatris is kneeling,
Kneeling to pray;
And while the lady 's praying,
A fine youth comes that way.

With the violets he 's holding,
In sleep he makes her droop;
And when she 's sleeping soundly
He lifts her to his croup.

Seven leagues they ride together,
Still she 's sleeping sound;
When for seven leagues they 've travelled,
She wakes and looks around.

“For your wedded wife now take me,
My good Count Garí.”
“For my wife I will not have you;
I have a wife,” said he,

“More beautiful, more charming,
More white, more nobly bred;
The tow you will be weaving,
And she the linen thread.”


With her head at the window,
She looks with a smile:
What is the lady seeing,
That she laughs the while?

“I see my father coming
With knights a thousand strong.
They bear a blazoned banner;
And I hear its starling's song,

“That says in his bird language:
‘The Count Garí must die.’”
“Cover me with the curtains;
Don't say that it is I!”

At the door they are a-knocking;
She says: “Who may you be?”
“Now tell us have you seen the count,
The count Don Garí?”

It 's “no” her tongue is saying;
It 's “yes” that her eyes say.
They draw aside the curtains,
And Count Garí they slay.

When his head was on the pavement,
It spoke and said this:
“Oh, now you will be happy,
Donzella Beatris,

“For you can have the head now
Of the count Don Garí.”
“His head I am not wanting,
I have a head,” said she;

“His head I am not wanting,
I have a better head;
More beautiful, more charming,
More white, more nobly bred.”