Classic Poem

This is the cruellest of cruel things, —
That I, the daughter of a line of kings,
Should humbly love a passing minstrel bold;
Nor fair is he, nor young, but strangely old,
With weary lips that only curve in song,
(Ah! heaven, how his weary arms are strong!)
And eyes so ardent that they have no place
Within the coldness of his thin white face.

Oh, did his songs, or did his glowing eyes
Call to my heart beneath the music's sighs
The night he came into my father's hall
With vagrant jests and careless rhymes for all?
I have remembered since that eagerly
His passing gaze most often paused at me;
" And surely, " said I, to my troubled heart,
" He is grotesque as now he stands apart
With hungry arms, and hungry cruel face " —
I turned to smile upon a courtier's grace;
But all the world had vanished from my sight.
I saw two eyes, mysterious, alight!
What unknown fires burned there? What joy or pain?
I looked upon the minstrel's face again.
Now faster, wilder, grew the revelry!
But all my mirth was dead, for close to me
He drew ... he heard my breath come painfully,
He knew I pitied him, — alas, he knew!
And laughed aloud as some strange god might do.

My hair by knights has oft' been called pure gold,
The ballad-makers have my beauty told,
My tiring-maids have ever stood aside
And wondered when my hair hung loose, untied,
While I, with no more covering than it,
Have blushed because they thought me exquisite.

He laughed, at me , as some strange god might do,
And from the hall in trembling haste I flew, —
But not before I heard his laughter cease,
And strange and sudden tears had brought me peace.
Was I the princess of the courtiers' praise?
Was I the girl whose feet trod gracious ways?
Within a mirror, silver through the gloom,
I sought myself, there kneeling in my room.

That night I wept who never wept before. ...
Anon I heard the minstrel by my door;
I was a princess, surely came he then
A suppliant, who was no king of men.
My thought was gentle; I would let him bow
And for his boldness ask forgiveness now ...
His eyes were ardent on me with their sin —
His hungry arms about me swept me in —
(I know the moon was like a splendid song
That ran the casements of the night along,
While stars made their appointed music sweet
And winds and shadows swooned about our feet!)
And thrice, with fear and joy and passing pride,
I would have fallen fainting by his side
But that my heart was strong and glad with love,
And fierce with all the tenderness thereof;
Mine eyes beheld the bitter way Love's feet
Must follow, and the poisoned wine and sweet;
I took the bitter way; I drained the wine:
And in that hour I found a gift divine, —
His weariness and love and songs were mine!
That he had brought no gifts of power and place,
Or royal dignities of pride and race,
But made more sweet my pity of his days
When on the road he sang his minstrel lays,
And cared not whether fortune led him on
Through night beneath the moon, through days of sun.

He lingers here within my father's house
And leads the court in laughter and carouse;
My women jest with him, but smiling hide
Their secret joy to keep him by their side.
I, who am jealous of this dalliance,
Alone may never call him with my glance.
Oh, that my head, so bowed in love and pain,
Might lift itself in fearless pride again!

My maids no more have wondering eyes to see
My fairness, and I feel that pityingly
They have surmised what fever makes me faint
And burns upon my face like wantons paint;
I heard one say, " 'Tis surely that brave knight
Come to the tourney wearing gold and white,
Whose beauty sickens her with secret love,
For she is strange and timid as a dove
And would not seek his preference though she die, —
And no knight dares to lifThis eyes so high. "
Well, — let them think this thing, for what care I?
And let my sin consume me, day by day,
Until I fall where I was wont to pray,
Before the shining crucifix I shun,
Before the tortured face of Mary's Son!

A prince is coming from a distant place,
And he is fairly famed for skill and grace;
'Tis said that many women love his face.
He comes to claim me as his queen and bride;
My father pledged my troth to him with pride.
Another moon will come and pass away
Before the dawning of the wedding-day,
Before the hour when I shall kiss the book,
And touch the sceptre that my fathers took.
And make the vows, and wear the bridal gown,
And bow my head beneath the gleaming crown,
And hear the clinging music of the lyre,
The joyous singing of the maiden choir,
And see the bridegroom's face through mists of veil;
Before the day when many boats will sail
To bear these tidings into far-off ports,
Before the merriment of feasts and sports,
Before the marriage-eve will bring to pass
A band of maidens dancing on the grass. ...

Then am I jealous that a minstrel stays
To please my women with his mocking praise?
How often has he called me more than fair!
And looked long in mine eyes, and kissed my hair,
And kissed my throat, and bidden me to dance, —
Then as I circled caught me close, perchance!

I well have loved the purple and the crown;
I cannot throw my toy of greatness down;
I cannot follow him for love of whom
I have held out mine hands to sin and doom.

There is a dagger hidden in my breast;
There is a death-draught in the ancient crest
Upon the ring I wear. ... There is a stream. ...
Besides its gliding darkness oft' I dream;
There is a sickening fear in every pain;
A faintness and a fever and a pain;
There is a madness ever in my brain!
Oh, is this love so great that I must die —
Spent — like a weakling bird that seeks the sky?
I touch the dagger ... tremble at a sound!
Think of his songs ... and turn the ring around. ...
I am the daughter of a line of kings, —
This is the cruellest of cruel things.