Classic Poem

Now when Joanna heard that doleful tale,
Soft pity filled her: and she minded then
To be in misery of some avail
Therefore she bade the cottage denizen
To lead her to that home of cruelty,
Nor feared alone to visit such foul den.
Right glad the peasant was: forth did they hie,
And sought it through the woods a weary stage;
So in the long woods leave we them thereby.
For now, too, love in quest of Gerbert sage
Hath sent Sir Mano forth: and straight rode he
Along the river in such pilgrimage
When casting round his eye he changed to see
A man, who lay as dead in the green shaw:
To whom speaking, groans him answered grievously
Then riding near, the wretch's eyes he saw
Wrapped in a bandage poor, bedrenched with gore;
And bitter torments seemed his limbs to draw;
For his white face turned toward the heaven he bore,
Shuddering and moaning still. " What man art thou, "
Said Mano, " dying in this weather frore,
" That mid the battering leaves dost mope and mow? "
— " Cold is this place, and bitter is the ache
Of ceaseless pain, " the other answered slow,
" But well it is, if thou darest vengeance take
On evil doer, that I nursed my breath
To speak the wrongs which me thus wretched make. "
Then Mano raised the man, who seemed nigh death,
And comforted him all that there he could:
And presently with pain the other saith:
" Behold this napkin stiff with oozing blood:
It hides the sightless circles of mine eyes,
Which never more shall look on ill or good:
They only feel, not see, their miseries,
Themselves a sight most piteous, seeing nought,
Though of my sorrows faithful witnesses.
I was a surgeon once, and wisely taught,
Save that I trusted in my art too well:
For too much confidence me hither brought.
Southward from hence a castellan doth dwell,
And many miles is spread his wide domain:
On whom erewhile a foul disease there fell,
Which in dark scales his eyelids still doth chain;
As thou art knight of gentle courtesy,
On him, beseech thee, wreak my wrongs amain.
For from that caitiff's heart of cruelty
This custom vile against them was begun
Who should their art to him in vain apply,
That they should for ill surgery atone
By loss of their own eyes: — full many tried
The dangerous venture: and I, wretched one,
Who on a mighty medicine relied,
Likewise in turn to do him good essayed,
Alas, in vain: me did that fiend deride,
Gladder that I was vanquished in my trade
Than sorry for his eyesight unrestored:
And thence he bade me be to doom conveyed
His ministers with point of piercing sword
Put out my light for ever, and so left
To grope my dark way from their felon lord
The loss of eyes of living me bereft:
Cold, darkness, wandering, and weariness
And hunger unappeased my being cleft:
Cast was death's shuttle through my mind's distress;
Down, down, I fell; and dying here I lie. "
Then said Sir Mano, " By death's holiness,
" These wrongs upon that felon wreak will I,
If he be named. " — " Giroie de Montreuil, "
The other said, and Mano made reply,
" To hear that name a double spur I feel,
Since scarcely he my friend: yet is he told
A better knight than thou dost him reveal,
" And in his actions gentle, just, and bold. "
Then said the other, " Death is here; I give
To thee a guerdon in this ring of gold,
" And bid thee keep it safe while thou shalt live:
It bears a poison of such quality,
That whoso in his mouth the same receive,
" In that same moment of earth's ills is free:
To use it on myself was in my mind;
Think I am grateful if I give it thee. "
Then that man's soul with pain did death unbind,
And Mano felt great pity to behold,
And in its garments did the poor corpse wind,
Composed it decently, and in the mould
Dug, as he could, a grave, the same to hide
From wolf or lynx, and great logs thither rolled,
And beat them in with earth on every side,
And set a brushwood fence both thick and high
All round, the which atop with twigs he tied,
Using a fallen tree that lay thereby;
And over all he laid great boughs across;
And after labour long, he forth did hie,
To find the man who caused this harm and loss.