Classic Poem

PART IV.

Before his tent Lord Saimpi stood,
And scornfully did say —
" Small hope is there, by holy rood!
Of knightly sport to-day.
Will none of all take heart of grace
To meet my swift career?
This countess, sure, is dark of face,
Or I have bred a fear.
Go, page, and bid my bugler sound
A blast upon his horn. "
He cast a jeering look around —
He spake the words in scorn.

Of willing knights, who heard, I trow,
There was not any want,
And many a scowl, and bended brow
Answered Lord Saimpi's vaunt.
Much burned the lusty bachelours
The boastful knight to tame;
But they were bound by their amours,
And might not dare the game.
Upspake the Regent — " Is there none
The course will undertake,
And meet this doughty champion
For the sweet lady's sake? "
Even as he spoke, a winded horn
Rang out with sudden sound,
And a stout courier, travel-worn,
Entered the listed ground.

" Now, courier, say whence comest thou —
What errand dost thou bear? "
Answer he made with covered brow,
Nor deigned he preface fair.
Much lacked the wight of courtesy,
He cast no word away,
But, upright in his saddle tree,
Right stoutly said his say.
" Lord Arundel, Sir John Cathore,
Of England, Sieur Herchaunce
Of Rhineland, from the northern shore
Draw on to break a lance —
If France so will it — in the game
For a fair lady's hand,
Whereof advertisement of fame
Hath reached the northern land. "

" Now, Lord of Clary! speed thee well —
Ride with a gallant train,
And greet the good Lord Arundel,
And greet his comrades twain.
Fail nothing of our state, pardie —
Stint nothing of their due;
In honours of a welcome free
Be thou our vicar true. "
Even as he spoke, a winded horn
Rang out with sudden sound:
Again a horseman, travel-worn,
Entered the listed ground.

" Now, horseman, say whence comest thou —
What errand dost thou bear? "
Answered the wight with reverent brow,
And after preface fair —
" My masters, gallant gentlemen
Of the Duke Edward's court,
Have journeyed, hither from Guienne
For share of knightly sport.
The knights of Felton, Parthenay,
La Poule, and Percy tried,
Sir Godfrey Hall, Sir Walter Grey,
Have deigned, for love, to ride —
Hopeful of enterprise — in train
Of a most worthy knight,
Young, but of note in Aquitaine,
Sir Gawen Bolton hight.
The gentle knights now make delay
At a near hamlet by the way,
And bade me ride thus much to say. "

Quoth Charles, " This purse of ruddy gold
Take thou, for fair news fairly told.
Felton, La Poule, and Parthenay,
Percy, stout Hall, and Walter Grey,
Renown hath loudly bruited them!
But Edward hath no goodlier gem,
In the bright ring of valour, which
Engirds his state with lustre rich,
Than Gawen Bolton, trusty knight.
We read the gentleman aright

Some months agone; good fortune made
His prowess instrument of aid
To many here, who now will show
Their love in grateful overflow.
Brave Lord of Clisson! make array,
And go thou forth upon the way
With a proud train of gentlemen,
To meet the worthies of Guienne.
And bear in mind, right trusty lord —
What Christian lands, with fair accord,
Avow unquestioned truth to be —
That the sweet virtue courtesy
Hath chosen our Frankish hearts for bowers,
Wherein to rear her loveliest flowers. "

I ween the maid of Rousillon —
Bending, to listen, from her throne —
Heard, with a flutter of the heart,
The messenger his tale impart,
Sir Gawen's name wrought like a spell;
The maiden's dire despair to quell.
To God in heaven, with upward gaze,
And aspect beaming with the rays
Of a sweet trembling hope, she prays,
As one late rescued from despair,
And heart-assured of granted prayer.
If her fair thought had utterance won
Thus would its hopeful speech have run —
" Sir Gawen's heart is true and bold,
And, cased in armour manifold,
Of a good cause, can take no harm;
And stalwart is the knight of arm,
Sturdy in brunt of man and horse,
And skill'd to run chivalric course.
Love, kind to all who love — the right,
Dear to high heaven — his own proud might,
These to my heart, so beating, bear
Assurance strong of issue fair. "

And ere the lady's courage fell
From the high tone it held so well,
The gentlemen of Aquitaine
Appeared in distance on the plain.
The knights had taken respite brief —
For dalliance wrought Sir Gawen grief —
And, mounting, came so close behind
Their messenger, that as the wind
Shifted to meet them, they might hear
The hoof-strokes of his swift career.

Under proud escort of a band,
The noblest of the Frankish land,
The knights of merry England came.
Welcome of lord and smile of dame,
And flying tongues subdued of tone,
As the proud men-at-arms drew on,
Greeted their presence graciously.
In van of all, great Normandy
Expended many a phrase of love,
The fulness of his joy to prove.
At stately height among the rest,
His mistress saw Sir Gawen's crest,
And caught the triumph of his eye,
And read the silent speech, whereby.

He spake his gallant hope and love.
She saw, and read the truth, and strove
Dominion of her mood to gain;
But the sweet lady strove in vain.
Her utmost art might not repress
Tears of a hopeful happiness.
Love, in a gentle nature, rears
His home beside the fount of tears,
And scouts the art which fain would quell
The sweet flow of the crystal well.

The English cavaliers were spent
With the way's toil, and Charles, intent
To do them pleasure, did adjourn
All feats of arms until the morn.
But for my lengthened lay, I fain
Would say how sped in Bar-by-Seine
A night of revel; how the day
Broke timeless in on banquet gay;
How Arundel — who reached the town
An hour before the sun went down,
With John Cathore, and stout Herchaunce, —
Surpassed the gayest wits of France,
And, solemnly installed high-priest
Of the blithe wine-god, ruled the feast
Until the lighting of the east.
Sir Gawen feasted not that night,
But husbanded his force aright.
At dawn, ere yet the festive mirth
Had found an end, he sallied forth,
Saw that his steeds were brave of trim,
Healthful of mettle and of limb;
And then, returning, meekly made
His orisons for Mary's aid;
And, after, with observance shrewd,
His knightly arms and armour viewed,
For more to him than death and life
Rested on issue of the strife.

I know not if the earnest knight
Passed greeting with his lady bright.
But, rumour said, the Kentish page,
With sober step, and aspect sage,
Did pass, and errand seem to bear
Betwixt the knight and lady fair.
Now to fair field! with mandate loud
Heralds make order in the crowd,
And clear free space for man and steed.
The last day of the five decreed
Is climbing onward to its noon:
The knightly sports will ope full soon.
Where, orderly, the crowd divides,
Into the lists Sir Gawen rides
Manful upon his charger black;
Percy and Hall ride at his back,
And the bold three pass slowly round
The circle of the tourney ground,
Beneath the eyes of ladies gay,
Greeting and greeted by the way.
This done, Sir Gawen did desire
Stout Thomelyn of Kent, his squire,
To strike Lord Saimpi's shield in sign
Of gage accepted. Thomelyn
Drew to the lord's pavilion,
Where, glistering bravely in the sun,
The broad shield hung: and, winning near,
Smote on its face, with point of spear.
Lord Saimpi issued forth with speed,
And donned his helm, and took his steed.

Now Gawen Bolton! fortune yield
To love, and to the right,
The shelter of her magic shield;
There is no sturdier knight,
In the wide realm of lovely France,
Or any Christian land,
Than Saimpi's lord — in war of lance,
Or battle-axe and brand.
But the stout islander, I trow,
Has not a heart to faint;
In hope, not fear, he made his vow
To his kind patron saint.
Once looked he to the golden sun —
Once to his lady dear —
Then like a willing champion,
Took ground for his career.

At signal of a bugle blast,
Sharp and of sudden sound,
The knights set forward, fiery fast,
And met in middle ground:
Met with stern shock of man and horse,
And din of crashing spears; —
But neither champion won the course,
They parted there like peers.
Again — again! and respite none
Will hot Lord Saimpi yield:
Swift he demands with haughty tone
Renewal of the field.
Whereto, Sir Gawen, urged to speak,
Answers, as haughtily,
" By God! proud knight — I nothing seek
So much as strife with thee. "
Thus spake he, and his visor closed,
As to his post he passed.
Again the armed men, opposed,
Await the signal blast.
Sudden it came! with hearts of flame,
The champions, at the sound,
Drove each his steed to furious speed,
And met in middle ground.

The Frankish champion struck amain —
Struck with a force so dire
On Gawen's helmet, that his brain
Streamed with a flood of fire.
But Gawen smote the knight of France
Full on his sturdy breast,
And, driven perforce, the trusty lance
Through shield and corslet prest —
Crashing through steel, the weapon good
Lord Saimpi's bosom found,
Nor broke until the sudden blood
Gushed darkly from the wound.
Manful against the lance's force
Lord Saimpi bore him well,
And passed Sir Gawen in the course,
All upright in his selle:
But, with the gallop of his horse,
He reeled — and swayed — and fell.

" Now yield thee, Lord of Saimpi, yield! "
No word Lord Saimpi said;
The fount of haughty speech was sealed,
Lord Saimpi's life was sped —
Sped gallantly: and on his shield,
Distained so bloody red,
His servants bore him from the field,
At slow and solemn tread.

With the lord's death, a hush of awe
Fell down on tongue and heart,
And you might mark the nobles draw
In sombre groups apart.
Few were who loved the haughty lord,
And vauntful port and jeering word
Prefaced the stroke of doom;
But none reck now of these — the proud
Beauty, and valour, of the crowd,
One aspect wear of gloom.
Said gentle Charles, " A woful end!
May Jesu's potent love befriend
The brave Lord Saimpi in his want.
A rude audacity defaced —
Audacity and sins of vaunt —
His prowess, but the knight was graced.

With gallant virtues. Better lance —
Despite that taint of arrogance —
Or stouter heart, was not in France.
Sir Gawen Bolton — all will say —
Hath borne him gallantly to-day,
And we, as right is, willingly,
Perforce of our fair powers, decree
That — Saimpi dead — this champion bold,
And proved of valiant worth, shall hold
Possession of the knightly ring,
All armed comers challenging.
All rights of field by Saimpi won,
Transferred by Saimpi, now undone,
Rest with his victor. Cheerfully,
So much of course we now decree.
And, gallants! hearken what we say —
Who holds this field at set of day
Will bear the game's fair prize away. "

Into the lists Lord Arundel —
A gay, glad knight, known passing well
In courts of kings, and famed for skill
To vanquish woman to his will,
And trained in all accomplishments
Of dance, and song, and martial fence,
And master too of dexterous art
With the sweet harp to reach the heart —
This worthy gentleman, I say,
Entered the lists with bearing gay,
And said: " For the fair lady's sake,
I humbly crave a spear to break,
When the good knight of Bolton's force
Is mended from his double course. "
Whereto Sir Gawen answer made,
Gallant and fair, and nothing stayed,
But, with high heart of hopeful cheer,
And proud glance to his lady dear,
Took post again, and couched his spear.