Heard her the heavens' lord In his flaming seat in the sky: "Overbold of her years that will not be denied; She would be the Sun-G.o.d's bride!"

His brow it was like the flat of a sword, And levin the glance of his side.

And he bent unto her, and his mouth Burnt her like coals of fire; He gazed with pa.s.sionate eyes, Like flame that kindles and dries, And his breath suckt hers as the white rage of the South Draws life; his desire Was like to a tiger's drouth.

What shall the slim maiden avail?

Alas, and alas for her youth!

Tremble, O maids, that would set Your love-longing to the Sun!

For Clytie mourn, and take heed How she loved her king and did bleed Ere kissing had yet begun.

For lo! one shaft from his terrible eyes she met, And it burnt to her soul, and anon She paled, and the fever-fret Did bite to her bones; and wan She fell to rueing the deed.

Mark ye, maidens, and cower!

Lo, for an end of breath, Clytie, hardy and frail, Anguisht after her death.

For the Sun-flower droops and is pale When her king hideth his power, And ever draggeth the woe of her piteous tale, As a woman that laboureth Yet never reacheth the hour: So Clytie yearns to the Sun, for her wraith Moans in the bow'd sunflower.

Clytie, Hamadryad, Called was she that I sing: Flower so fair and frail that to work her this woe, Surely a pitiful thing!

_1894._

LAI OF GOBERTZ[1]

Of courteous Limozin wight, Gobertz, I will indite: From Poicebot had he his right Of gentlehood; Made monk in his own despite In San Leonart the white, Withal to sing and to write _Coblas_ he could.

Learning had he, and rare Music, and _gai saber_: No monk with him to compare In that monast'ry.

Full l.u.s.ty he was to bear Cowl and chaplet of hair G.o.d willeth monks for to wear For sanct.i.ty.

There in dortoir as he lay, To this Gobertz, by my fay, Came fair women to play In his sleep; Then he had old to pray, Fresh and silken came they, With eyen saucy and gray That set him weep.

May was the month, and soft The singing nights; up aloft The quarter moon swam and scoffed His unease.

Rose this Gobertz, and doffed His habit, and left that croft, Crying _Eleison_ oft At Venus' knees.

Heartly the road and the town Mauleon, over the down, Sought he, and the renown Of Savaric; To that good knight he knelt down, Asking of him in bown Almesse of laurel crown For his music.

Fair him Savaric spake, "If _coblas_ you know to make, Song and music to wake For your part, Horse and lute shall you take Of _Jongleur_, lightly forsake Cloister for woodland brake With good heart."

Down the high month of May Now rideth Gobertz his way To Aix, to Puy, to Alais, To Albi the old; In Toulouse mindeth to stay With Count Simon the Gay, There to abide what day Love shall hold.

Shrill riseth his song: _Cobla_, _lai_, or _tenzon_, None can render him wrong In that _meinie_-- Love alone, that erelong Showed him in all that throng Of ladies Tibors the young, None but she.

She was high-hearted and fair, Low-breasted, with hair Gilded, and eyes of vair In burning face: On her Gobertz astare, Looking, stood quaking there To see so debonnair Hold her place.

Proud _donzela_ and free, To clip nor to kiss had she Talent, nor for minstrelsy Was she fain; Mistress never would be, Nor master have; but her fee She vowed to sweet Chast.i.ty, Her suzerain.

Then this Gobertz anon Returneth to Mauleon, To Savaric maketh moan On his knees.

Other pray'r hath he none Save this, "Sir, let me begone Whence I came, since fordone My expertise."

Quod Savaric, "Hast thou sped So ill in _amors_?" Answered This Gobertz, "By my head, She scorneth me."

"_Hauberc_ and arms then, instead Of lute and begarlanded Poll, take you," he said, "For errantry."

Now rides he out, a dubbed knight, The Spanish road, for to fight Paynimry; day and night Urgeth he; In Saragoza the bright, And Pampluna with might Seeketh he what respite For grief there be.

War-dimmed grew his gear, Grim his visage; in fear Listened Mahound his cheer Deep in h.e.l.l.

Fled his legions to hear Gobertz the knight draw near.

Now he closeth the year In Compostell.

Offering there hath he made Saint James, candles him paid, Gold on the shrine hath laid; Now Gobertz Is for Toulouse, where that maid Tibors wonned unafraid Of Love and his accolade That breaketh hearts.

He rode north and by east, Nor rider spared he nor beast, Nor tempered spur till at least Forth of Spain; Not for ma.s.s-bell nor priest, For fast-day nor yet for feast Stayed he, till voyage ceased In Aquitaine.

Now remaineth to tell What this Gobertz befell When that he sought hostel In his land.

Dined he well, drank he well, Envy then had somedeal With women free in _bordel_ For to spend.

In poor _alberc_ goeth he Where bought pleasure may be, Careless proffereth fee For his bliss.

O Gobertz, look to thee.

Such a sight shalt thou see Will make the red blood to flee Thy heart, ywis.

Fair woman they bring him in Shamefast in her burning sin, All afire is his skin _Par amors_.

Look not of her look to win, Dare not lift up her chin, Gobertz; in that soiled fond thing Lo, Tibors!

"O love, O love, out, alas!

That it should come to this pa.s.s, And thou be even as I was In green youth, Whenas delight and solace Served I with wantonness, And burned anon like the gra.s.s To this ruth!"

But then lift she her sad eyes, Gray like wet morning skies, That wait the sun to arise, Tears to amend.

"Gobertz, _amic_," so she cries, "By Jesus' agonies. .h.i.ther come I by lies Of false friend.

"Sir Richart de Laund he hight, Who fair promised me plight Of word and ring, on a night Of no fame; So then evilly bright Had his will and delight Of me, and fled unrequite For my shame!

"Alas, and now to my thought Flieth the woe that I wrought Thee, Gobertz, that distraught Thou didst fare.

Now a vile thing of nought Fare I that once was so haught And free, and could not be taught By thy care."

But Gobertz seeth no less Her honour and her sweetness, Soon her small hand to kiss Taketh he, Saying, "Now for that stress Drave thee here thou shalt bless G.o.d, for so ending this Thy penury."

Yet she would bid him away, Seeking her sooth to say, In what woful array She was cast.

"Nay," said he, "but, sweet may, Here must we bide until day: Then to church and to pray Go we fast."

Now then to all his talent, Seeing how he was bent, Him the comfort she lent Of her mind.

Cried Gobertz, well content, "If love by dreariment Cometh, that was well spent, As I find."

Thereafter somewhat they slept, When to his arms she had crept For comfort, and freely wept Sin away.

Up betimes then he leapt, Calling her name: forth she stept Meek, disposed, to accept What he say.

By hill road taketh he her To the gray nuns of Beaucaire, There to shred off her hair And take veil.

Himself to cloister will fare Monk to be, with good care For their two souls. May his pray'r Them avail!

_1911._