I.

Broad the forests stood (I read) on the hills of Linteged,
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And three hundred years had stood mute adown each hoary wood,
       &nbspLike a full heart having prayed.

II.

And the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And but little thought was theirs of the silent antique years,
       &nbspIn the building of their nest.

III.

Down the sun dropt large and red on the towers of Linteged,—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Lance and spear upon the height, bristling strange in fiery light,
       &nbspWhile the castle stood in shade.

IV.

There the castle stood up black with the red sun at its back—
Toll slowly—
Like a sullen smouldering pyre with a top that flickers fire
       &nbspWhen the wind is on its track.
V.

And five hundred archers tall did besiege the castle wall—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And the castle, seethed in blood, fourteen days and nights had stood
       &nbspAnd to-night was near its fall.

VI.

Yet thereunto, blind to doom, three months since, a bride did come—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
One who proudly trod the floors and softly whispered in the doors,
"       &nbspMay good angels bless our home."

VII.

Oh, a bride of queenly eyes, with a front of constancies:
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Oh, a bride of cordial mouth where the untired smile of youth
       &nbspDid light outward its own sighs!

VIII.

'T was a Duke's fair orphan-girl, and her uncle's ward—the Earl—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Who betrothed her twelve years old, for the sake of dowry gold,
       &nbspTo his son Lord Leigh the churl.
IX.

But what time she had made good all her years of womanhood—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Unto both these lords of Leigh spake she out right sovranly,
       &nbsp"My will runneth as my blood.

X.

"And while this same blood makes red this same right hand's veins," she said—
Toll slowly—
"'T is my will, as lady free, not to wed a lord of Leigh,
       &nbspBut Sir Guy of Linteged."

XI.

The old Earl he smilèd smooth, then he sighed for wilful youth—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Good my niece, that hand withal looketh somewhat soft and small
       &nbspFor so large a will, in sooth."

XII.


She too smiled by that same sign, but her smile was cold and fine—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Little hand clasps muckle gold, or it were not worth the hold
       &nbspOf thy son, good uncle mine!"
XIII.

Then the young lord jerked his breath, and sware thickly in his teeth—
Toll slowly—
"He would wed his own betrothed, an she loved him an she loathed,
       &nbspLet the life come or the death."

XIV.

Up she rose with scornful eyes, as her father's child might rise—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Thy hound's blood, my lord of Leigh, stains thy knightly heel," quoth she,
       &nbsp"And he moans not where he lies:

XV.

"But a woman's will dies hard, in the hall or on the sward"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"By that grave, my lords, which made me orphaned girl and dowered lady,
       &nbspI deny you wife and ward!"

XVI.

Unto each she bowed her head and swept past with lofty tread.
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Ere the midnight-bell had ceased, in the chapel had the priest
       &nbspBlessed her, bride of Linteged.

XVII.

Fast and fain the bridal train along the night-storm rode amain—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Hard the steeds of lord and serf struck their hoofs out on the turf,
       &nbspIn the pauses of the rain.

XVIII.

Fast and fain the kinsmen's train along the storm pursued amain—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Steed on steed-track, dashing off,—thickening, doubling, hoof on hoof,
       &nbspIn the pauses of the rain.

XIX.

And the bridegroom led the flight on his red-roan steed of might—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And the bride lay on his arm, still, as if she feared no harm,
       &nbspSmiling out into the night.

XX.

"Dost thou fear?" he said at last. "Nay," she answered him in haste,—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Not such death as we could find—only
life with one behind.
       &nbspRide on fast as fear, ride fast!"
XXI.

Up the mountain wheeled the steed—girth to ground, and fetlocks spread—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Headlong bounds, and rocking flanks,—down he staggered, down the banks,
       &nbspTo the towers of Linteged.

XXII.

High and low the serfs looked out, red the flambeaus tossed about—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
In the courtyard rose the cry, "Live the Duchess and Sir Guy!"
       &nbspBut she never heard them shout.

XXIII.

On the steed she dropped her cheek, kissed his mane and kissed his neck—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"I had happier died by thee than lived on, a Lady Leigh,"
       &nbspWere the first words she did speak.

XXIV.

But a three months' joyaunce lay 'twixt that moment and to-day—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
When five hundred archers tall stand beside the castle wall
       &nbspTo recapture Duchess May.

XXV.

And the castle standeth black with the red sun at its back—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And a fortnight's siege is done, and, except the duchess, none
       &nbspCan misdoubt the coming wrack.

XXVI.

Then the captain, young Lord Leigh, with his eyes so grey of blee—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And thin lips that scarcely sheath the cold white gnashing of his teeth,
       &nbspGnashed in smiling, absently,—

XXVII.

Cried aloud, "So goes the day, bridegroom fair of Duchess May!"
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Look thy last upon that sun! if thou seest to-morrow's one
       &nbsp'T will be through a foot of clay.

XXVIII.

"Ha, fair bride! dost hear no sound save that moaning of the hound?"
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Thou and I have parted troth, yet I keep my vengeance-oath,
       &nbspAnd the other may come round.

XXIX.

"Ha! thy will is brave to dare, and thy new love past compare"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Yet thine old love's falchion brave is as strong a thing to have,
       &nbspAs the will of lady fair.


XXX.

"Peck on blindly, netted dove! If a wife's name thee behove"—
Toll slowly—
"Thou shalt wear the same to-morrow, ere the grave has hid the sorrow
       &nbspOf thy last ill-mated love.

XXXI.

"O'er his fixed and silent mouth, thou and I will call back troth":
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"He shall altar be and priest,—and he will not cry at least
       &nbsp'I forbid you, I am loth!'

XXXII.

"I will wring thy fingers pale in the gauntlet of my mail":
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"'Little hand and muckle gold' close shall lie within my hold,
       &nbspAs the sword did, to prevail."

XXXIII.

Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Oh, and laughed the Duchess May, and her soul did put away
       &nbspAll his boasting, for a jest.

XXXIV.

In her chamber did she sit, laughing low to think of it,—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Tower is strong and will is free: thou canst boast, my lord of Leigh,
       &nbspBut thou boastest little wit."

XXXV.

In her tire-glass gazèd she, and she blushed right womanly—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
She blushed half from her disdain, half her beauty was so plain,
       &nbsp—"Oath for oath, my lord of Leigh!"

XXXVI.

Straight she called her maidens in—"Since ye gave me blame herein"—
Toll slowly—
"That a bridal such as mine should lack gauds to make it fine,
       &nbspCome and shrive me from that sin.

XXXVII.

"It is three months gone to-day since I gave mine hand away":
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Bring the gold and bring the gem, we will keep bride-state in them,
While we keep the foe at bay.

XXXVIII.

"On your arms I loose mine hair; comb it smooth and crown it fair":
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"I would look in purple pall from this lattice down the wall,
       &nbspAnd throw scorn to one that's there!"

XXXIX.

Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
On the tower the castle's lord leant in silence on his sword,
       &nbspWith an anguish in his breast.

XL.

With a spirit-laden weight did he lean down passionate:
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
They have almost sapped the wall,—they will enter therewithal
With no knocking at the gate.

XLI.

Then the sword he leant upon, shivered, snapped upon the stone—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Sword," he thought, with inward laugh, "ill thou servest for a staff
       &nbspWhen thy nobler use is done!

XLII.

"Sword, thy nobler use is done! tower is lost, and shame begun!"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"If we met them in the breach, hilt to hilt or speech to speech,
       &nbspWe should die there, each for one.

XLIII.

"If we met them at the wall, we should singly, vainly fall"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"But if I die here alone,—then I die who am but one,
       &nbspAnd die nobly for them all.

XLIV.

"Five true friends lie for my sake in the moat and in the brake"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Thirteen warriors lie at rest with a black wound in the breast,
And not one of these will wake.

XLV.

"So, no more of this shall be! heart-blood weighs too heavily"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"And I could not sleep in grave, with the faithful and the brave
       &nbspHeaped around and over me.

XLVI.

"Since young Clare a mother hath, and young Ralph a plighted faith"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Since my pale young sister's cheeks blush like rose when Ronald speaks,
       &nbspAlbeit never a word she saith—

XLVII.

"These shall never die for me: life-blood falls too heavily":
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"And if I die here apart, o'er my dead and silent heart
       &nbspThey shall pass out safe and free.

XLVIII.


"When the foe hath heard it said—'Death holds Guy of Linteged'"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"That new corse new peace shall bring, and a blessèd, blessèd thing
Shall the stone be at its head.

XLIX.

"Then my friends shall pass out free, and shall bear my memory"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Then my foes shall sleek their pride, soothing fair my widowed bride
       &nbsp       &nbspWhose sole sin was love of me:

L.

"With their words all smooth and sweet, they will front her and entreat"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"And their purple pall will spread underneath her fainting head
       &nbspWhile her tears drop over it.

LI.

"She will weep her woman's tears, she will pray her woman's prayers"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"But her heart is young in pain, and her hopes will spring again
       &nbspBy the suntime of her years.


LII.

"Ah, sweet May! ah, sweetest grief!—once I vowed thee my belief"—
Toll slowly—
"That thy name expressed thy sweetness,—May of poets, in completeness!
       &nbspNow my May-day seemeth brief."

LIII.

All these silent thoughts did swim o'er his eyes grown strange and dim—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Till his true men, in the place, wished they stood there face to face
       &nbspWith the foe instead of him.

LIV.

"One last oath, my friends that wear faithful hearts to do and dare!"
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Tower must fall and bride be lost—swear me service worth the cost!"
       &nbspBold they stood around to swear.

LV.

"Each man clasp my hand and swear by the deed we failed in there"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Not for vengeance, not for right, will ye strike one blow to-night!"
       &nbspPale they stood around to swear.

LVI.

"One last boon, young Ralph and Clare! faithful hearts to do and dare!"
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Bring that steed up from his stall, which she kissed before you all.
       &nbspGuide him up the turret-stair.


LVII.

"Ye shall harness him aright, and lead upward to this height:"
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
       &nbsp"Once in love and twice in war hath he borne me strong and far:
       &nbspHe shall bear me far to-night."

LVIII.

Then his men looked to and fro, when they heard him speaking so—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"'Las! the noble heart," they thought, "he in sooth is grief-distraught:
       &nbspWould we stood here with the foe!"

LIX.

But a fire flashed from his eye, 'twixt their thought and their reply—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Have ye so much time to waste? We who ride here, must ride fast
       &nbspAs we wish our foes to fly."

LX.

They have fetched the steed with care, in the harness he did wear—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Past the court and through the doors, across the rushes of the floors,
       &nbspBut they goad him up the stair.

LXI.

Then from out her bower chambère did the Duchess May repair:
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Tell me now what is your need," said the lady, "of this steed,
       &nbspThat ye goad him up the stair?"

LXII.

Calm she stood; unbodkined through, fell her dark hair to her shoe:
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And the smile upon her face, ere she left the tiring-glass,
       &nbspHad not time enough to go.

LXIII.

"Get thee back, sweet Duchess May! hope is gone like yesterday":
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
One half-hour completes the breach; and thy lord grows wild of speech—
       &nbspGet thee in, sweet lady, and pray!

LXIV.

"In the east tower, high'st of all, loud he cries for steed from stall":
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"'He would ride as far,' quoth he, 'as for love and victory,
       &nbspThough he rides the castle-wall.'

LXV.

"And we fetch the steed from stall, up where never a hoof did fall"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Wifely prayer meets deathly need: may the sweet Heavens hear thee plead
       &nbspIf he rides the castle-wall!"

LXVI.

Low she dropt her head, and lower, till her hair coiled on the floor—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And tear after tear you heard fall distinct as any word
       &nbspWhich you might be listening for.

LXVII.

"Get thee in, thou soft ladye! here is never a place for thee!"
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Braid thine hair and clasp thy gown, that thy beauty in its moan
       &nbspMay find grace with Leigh of Leigh."

LXVIII.

She stood up in bitter case, with a pale yet steady face:
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Like a statue thunderstruck, which, though quivering, seems to look
       &nbspRight against the thunder-place.

LXIX.

And her foot trod in, with pride, her own tears i' the stone beside—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Go to, faithful friends, go to! judge no more what ladies do,
       &nbspNo, nor how their lords may ride!"

LXX.

Then the good steed's rein she took, and his neck did kiss and stroke:
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Soft he neighed to answer her, and then followed up the stair
       &nbspFor the love of her sweet look:

LXXI.

Oh, and steeply, steeply wound up the narrow stair around—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Oh, and closely, closely speeding, step by step beside her treading
       &nbspDid he follow, meek as hound.

LXXII.

On the east tower, high'st of all,—there, where never a hoof did fall—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Out they swept, a vision steady, noble steed and lovely lady,
       &nbspCalm as if in bower or stall.

LXXIII.

Down she knelt at her lord's knee, and she looked up silently—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And he kissed her twice and thrice, for that look within her eyes
       &nbspWhich he could not bear to see.

LXXIV.

Quoth he, "Get thee from this strife, and the sweet saints bless thy life!"
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"In this hour I stand in need of my noble red-roan steed,
       &nbspBut no more of my noble wife."

LXXV.

Quoth she, "Meekly have I done all thy biddings under sun":
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"But by all my womanhood, which is proved so, true and good,
I will never do this one.
       &nbspLXXVI.

"Now by womanhood's degree and by wifehood's verity"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"In this hour if thou hast need of thy noble red-roan steed,
       &nbspThou hast also need of me.

LXXVII.

"By this golden ring ye see on this lifted hand pardiè"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"If, this hour, on castle-wall can be room for steed from stall,
       &nbspShall be also room for me.

LXXVIII.

"So the sweet saints with me be," (did she utter solemnly)—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"If a man, this eventide, on this castle wall will ride,
       &nbspHe shall ride the same with me."

LXXIX.

Oh, he sprang up in the selle and he laughed out bitter-well—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Wouldst thou ride among the leaves, as we used on other eves,
       &nbspTo hear chime a vesper-bell?"

LXXX.

She clung closer to his knee—"Ay, beneath the cypress-tree!"
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Mock me not, for otherwhere than along the greenwood fair
       &nbspHave I ridden fast with thee.

LXXXI.

"Fast I rode with new-made vows from my angry kinsman's house":
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"What, and would you men should reck that I dared more for love's sake
As a bride than as a spouse?

LXXXII.

"What, and would you it should fall, as a proverb, before all"—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"That a bride may keep your side while through castle-gate you ride,
       &nbspYet eschew the castle-wall?"

LXXXIII.

Ho! the breach yawns into ruin and roars up against her suing—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
With the inarticulate din and the dreadful falling in—
       &nbspShrieks of doing and undoing!

LXXXIV.

Twice he wrung her hands in twain, but the small hands closed again.
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Back he reined the steed—back, back! but she trailed along his track
       &nbspWith a frantic clasp and strain.

LXXXV.

Evermore the foemen pour through the crash of window and door—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And the shouts of Leigh and Leigh, and the shrieks of "kill!" and "flee!"
       &nbspStrike up clear amid the roar.

LXXXVI.

Thrice he wrung her hands in twain, but they closed and clung again—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
While she clung, as one, withstood, clasps a Christ upon the rood,
       &nbspIn a spasm of deathly pain.

LXXXVII.

She clung wild and she clung mute with her shuddering lips half-shut.
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Her head fallen as half in swound, hair and knee swept on the ground,
       &nbspShe clung wild to stirrup and foot.

LXXXVIII.

Back he reined his steed back-thrown on the slippery coping-stone:
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Back the iron hoofs did grind on the battlement behind
       &nbspWhence a hundred feet went down:

LXXXIX.

And his heel did press and goad on the quivering flank bestrode—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Friends and brothers, save my wife! Pardon, sweet, in change for life,—
B       &nbsput I ride alone to God."

XC.

Straight as if the Holy name had upbreathed her like a flame—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
She upsprang, she rose upright, in his selle she sate in sight,
       &nbspBy her love she overcame.

XCI.

And her head was on his breast where she smiled as one at rest—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
"Ring," she cried, "O vesper-bell in the beechwood's old chapelle—
       &nbspBut the passing-bell rings best!"

XCII.

They have caught out at the rein which Sir Guy threw loose—in vain—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
For the horse in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised in air,
       &nbspOn the last verge rears amain.

XCIII.

Now he hangs, he rocks between, and his nostrils curdle in—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Now he shivers head and hoof and the flakes of foam fall off,
       &nbspAnd his face grows fierce and thin:

XCIV.

And a look of human woe from his staring eyes did go:
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And a sharp cry uttered he, in a foretold agony
       &nbspOf the headlong death below,—

XCV.

And, "Ring, ring, thou passing-bell," still she cried, "i' the old chapelle!"
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Then, back-toppling, crashing back—a dead weight flung out to wrack,
Horse and riders overfell.
Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And I read this ancient Rhyme, in the churchyard, while the chime
       &nbspSlowly tolled for one at rest.

II.

The abeles moved in the sun, and the river smooth did run—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And the ancient Rhyme rang strange, with its passion and its change,
       &nbspHere, where all done lay undone.

III.

And beneath a willow tree I a little grave did see—
Toll slowly—
Where was graved—Here, undefiled, lieth Maud, a three-year child,
       &nbspEighteen hundred forty-three.

IV.

Then O spirits, did I say, ye who rode so fast that day—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Did star-wheels and angel wings with their holy winnowings
       &nbspKeep beside you all the way?

V.

Though in passion ye would dash, with a blind and heavy crash—
Toll slowly—
Up against the thick-bossed shield of God's judgment in the field,—
       &nbspThough your heart and brain were rash,—

VI.

Now, your will is all unwilled; now, your pulses are all stilled:
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Now, ye lie as meek and mild (whereso laid) as Maud the child
       &nbspWhose small grave was lately filled.

VII.

Beating heart and burning brow, ye are very patient now—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And the children might be bold to pluck the kingcups from your mould
       &nbspEre a month had let them grow.

VIII.

And you let the goldfinch sing in the alder near in spring—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
Let her build her nest and sit all the three weeks out on it,
       &nbspMurmuring not at anything.

IX.

In your patience ye are strong, cold and heat ye take not wrong—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
When the trumpet of the angel blows eternity's evangel,
       &nbspTime will seem to you not long.

X.

Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And I said in underbreath,—All our life
is mixed with death,
       &nbspAnd who knoweth which is best?

XI.

Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west—
       &nbsp       &nbspToll slowly.
And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness,—
       &nbspRound our restlessness, His rest.