Classic Poem

Romance

Look you be sure,
Take here the lure;
Ride you there, ride you for one two and three.
Down the king's fist
With the drag of the wrist,
Dragged down the pomegranates pierced with the bee.

There he sits thinking,
Stolid and blinking,
While the recorder doth read the decree;
Courtiers unto him
Talk the thing, view him;
There he sits gartered well under the knee.

Rightly be swift,
Lightly let lift
Bridle, and ride to the tower of the sea;
On the queen's face
Sorrow to trace
Seeds of the pomegranate sanguine and free.

There she lies faintly,
On her breast quaintly
Lies her plumed peacock fan; dead she may be:
With her together
One loosened feather
Waves near her mouth: she has drawn up her knee.

On to your courser,
Spare not his horsehair;
Ride to the knight of the tower of the sea;
Long ago bade he
Carry my lady
Into his tower; carry her, carry me.

There he sits waiting,
Counting and rating
Sunflowers that grow by his wall on the lea:
Sees the long grasses,
Browsed on by asses,
While he makes songs with his harp on his knee.

Now he is gone;
Cross-bolt or stone
Swiftlier fled never, think I, than he:
Hark how the feet
Lessen their beat:
Four dies to two; so there, give me the key.

There he emerges
Close where the verge is;
Now he is shot past our furthest off tree:
Grant he come back,
(Riding not slack,)
I, maiden Alice, will stand at his knee.English