Poems by Adam Lindsay Gordon Part 31

Eustace: Hus.h.!.+

Ralph has persuaded our guest to sing.

Thurston: I have known the day when his voice would ring Till the rafters echoed.

Eustace: 'Tis pleasant still, Though far too feeble this hall to fill.

Harold (sings): On the current, where the wide Windings of the river Eddy to the North Sea tide, Shall I in my shallop glide, As I have done at her side?

Never! never! never!

In the forest, where the firs, Pines, and larches quiver To the northern breeze that stirs, Shall my lips be press'd to hers, As they were in by-gone years?

Never! never! never!

In the battle on the plain, Where the lance-shafts s.h.i.+ver, And the sword-strokes fall like rain, Shall I bear her scarf again As I have done--not in vain?

Never! never! never!

In a fairer, brighter land, Where the saints rest ever, Shall I once more see her stand, White, amidst a white-robed band, Harp and palm-branch in her hand?

Never! never! never!

SCENE--The Same.

EUSTACE, THURSTON, and followers of HUGO. HAROLD.

Enter, by the hall door, HUGO, ERIC, and THORA.

Eustace (and others standing up): Welcome, Lord Hugo!

Hugo: Welcome or not, Thanks for your greeting all.

Ha, Eustace! what complaints hast thou got?

What grievances to recall?

Eustace: Count William came with a numerous band, Ere the snows began to fall, And slew a buck on your lords.h.i.+p's land, Within a league of the wall.

Hugo: Count William has done to us no more Than we to him. In his vineyard Last summer, or later, maybe, a boar Was slaughter'd by Thurston's whinyard.

Thurston: Aye, Hugo! But William kept the buck, I will wager marks a score, Though the tale is new to me; and, worse luck, You made me give back the boar.

Harold (advancing): Lord Hugo!

Hugo: What! Art thou living yet?

I scarcely knew thee, Sir Dane!

And 'tis not so very long since we met.

Harold: 'Twill be long ere we meet again. (gives a letter) This letter was traced by one now dead In the Holy Land; and I Must wait till his dying request is read, And in his name ask the reply.

Thora (aside): Who is that stranger, Hugo?

Hugo: By birth He is a countryman of thine, Thora. What writing is this on earth?

I can scarce decipher a line.

Harold: The pen in the clutch of death works ill.

Hugo: Nay, I read now; the letters run More clearly.

Harold: Wilt grant the request?

Hugo: I will.

Harold: Enough! Then my task is done. (He holds out his hand.) Hugo, I go to a far-off land, Wilt thou say, "G.o.d speed thee!" now?

Hugo: Sir Harold, I cannot take thy hand, Because of my ancient vow.

Harold: Farewell, then.

Thora: Friend, till the morning wait.

On so wild a night as this Thou shalt not go from my husband's gate; The path thou wilt surely miss.

Harold: I go. Kind lady, some future day Thy care will requited be.

Thora: Speak, Hugo, speak.

Hugo: He may go or stay, It matters little to me.

[Harold goes out.]

Thora: Husband, that man is ill and weak; On foot he goes and alone Through a barren moor in a night-storm bleak.

Eric: Now I wonder where he has gone!

Hugo: Indeed, I have not the least idea; The man is certainly mad.

He wedded my sister, Dorothea, And used her cruelly bad.

He was once my firmest and surest friend, And once my deadliest foe; But hate and friends.h.i.+p both find their end-- Now I heed not where he may go.

SCENE--A Chamber in the Castle.

HUGO, THORA, and ERIC.

Hugo: That letter that came from Palestine, By the hands of yon wandering Dane, Will cost me a pilgrimage to the Rhine.

Thora: Wilt thou travel so soon again?

Hugo: I can scarce refuse the dying request Of my comrade, Baldwin, now; His bones are dust. May his soul find rest He once made a foolish vow, That at Englemehr, 'neath the watchful care Of the Abbess, his child should stay, For a season at least. To escort her there I must start at the break of day.

Thora: Is it Agatha that goes, or Clare?

Hugo: Nay, Clare is dwelling in Spain With her spouse.