The Poetical Works of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart. M.P Part 26

"Thy vow! I pledge thee mine in turn, Ere the third sun shall sink,--or bring A fair outs.h.i.+ning yonder ring, Or find mine oath as thine is now Inflexible and stern.

"Thy sword, unmeet to serve the right,-- Thy spurs, unfit for churls to wear, Torn from thee;--through the crowd, which heard Our Lady weep at va.s.sal's word, Shall hiss the hoot,--'Behold the knight, Whose lips belie the fair!'

"Three days I give; nor think to fly Thy doom; for on the rider's steed, Though to the farthest earth he ride,-- Disgrace once mounted, clings beside; And Mockery's barbed shafts defy Her victim's swiftest speed."

Far to the forest's stillest shade, Sir Elvar took his lonely way: Beneath the oak, whose gentle frown Still dimm'd the noon, he laid him down, And saw the Fount that through the glade Sang sparkling up to day.

Alas, in vain his heart address'd, With sighs, with prayers, his elfin bride;-- What though the vow conceal'd the name, Did not the boast the charms proclaim?

The spell has vanish'd from his breast, The fairy from his side.

Oh, not for vulgar homage made, The holier beauty form'd for one; It asks no wreath the arm can win; Its lists--its world--the heart within; All love, if sacred, haunts the shade-- The star shrinks from the sun!

Three days the wand'rer roved in vain; Uprose the fatal dawn at last!

The Lists are set, the galleries raised, And, scorn'd by all the eyes that gazed, Alone he fronts the crowd again, And hears the sentence pa.s.s'd.

Now, as, amidst the hooting scorn, Rude hands the hard command fulfil, While rings the challenge--"Sun and air Ne'er shone, ne'er breathed, on form so fair As Arthur's Queen,"--a single horn Came from the forest hill.

A note so distant and so lone, And yet so sweet,--it thrill'd along, It hush'd the Champion on his steed, Startled the rude hands from their deed, Charm'd the stern Arthur on his throne, And still'd the shouting throng.

To North, to South, to East, and West, They turn'd their eyes; and o'er the plain, On palfrey white, a Ladye rode; As woven light her mantle glow'd.

Two lovely shapes, in azure dress'd, Walk'd first, and led the rein.

The crowd gave way, as onward bore That vision from the Land of Dreams; Veil'd was the gentle rider's face, But not the two her path that grace.

How dim beside the charms they wore All human beauty seems!

So to the throne the pageant came, And thus the Fairy to the King: "Not unto thee for ever dear, By minstrel's song, to knighthood's ear Beseems the wrath that wrongs the vow, Which hallows ev'n a name.

"Bloom there no flowers more sweet by night?

Come, Queen, before the judgment throne; Behold Sir Elvar's nameless bride!

Now, Queen, his doom thyself decide."

She raised her veil,--and all her light Of beauty round them shone!

The bloom, the eyes, the locks, the smile, That never earth nor time could dim;-- Day grew more bright, and air more clear, As Heaven itself were brought more near.-- And oh! _his_ joy, who felt, the while, That light but glow'd for him!

"My steed, my lance, vain Champion, now To arms: and Heaven defend the right!"-- Here spake the Queen, "The strife is past,"

And in the Lists her glove she cast, "And I myself will crown thy brow, Thou love-defended Knight!"

He comes to claim the garland crown; The changeful thousands shout his name; And faithless beauty round him smiled, How cold, beside the Forest's Child, Who ask'd not love to bring renown, And clung to love in shame!

He bears the prize to those dear feet: "Not mine the guerdon! oh, not mine!"

Sadly the fated Fairy hears, And smiles through unreproachful tears; "Nay, keep the flowers, and be they sweet When I--no more am thine!"

She lower'd the veil, she turn'd the rein, And ere his lips replied, was gone.

As on she went her charmed way, No mortal dared the steps to stay: And when she vanish'd from the plain All s.p.a.ce seem'd left alone!

Oh, woe! that fairy shape no more Shall bless thy love nor rouse thy pride!

He seeks the wood, he gains the spot-- The Tree is there, the Fountain not;-- Dried up:--its mirthful play is o'er.

Ah, where the Fairy Bride?

Alas, with fairies as with men, Who love are victims from the birth!

A fearful doom the fairy shrouds, If once unveil'd by day to crowds.

The Fountain vanish'd from the glen, The Fairy from the earth!

[A] As the subject of this tale is suggested by one of the Fabliaux, the author has represented Arthur and Guenever, according to the view of their characters taken in those French romances--which he hopes he need scarcely say is very different from that taken in his maturer Poem upon the adventures and ordeal of the Dragon King.

[B] "With hair that gilds the water as it glides."--MARLOWE, Edw.

II.

[C] As Guenever is often called Genevra in the French romances, the latter name is here adopted for the sake of euphony.

THE BEACON.

I.

How broad and bright athwart the wave, Its steadfast light the Beacon gave!

Far beetling from the headland sh.o.r.e, The rock behind, the surge before,-- How lone and stern and tempest-sear'd, Its brow to Heaven the turret rear'd!

Type of the glorious souls that are The lamps our wandering barks to light, With storm and cloud round every star, The Fire-Guides of the Night!

II.

How dreary was that solitude!

Around it scream'd the sea-fowl's brood; The only sound, amidst the strife Of wind, and wave, that spoke of life, Except when Heaven's ghost-stars were pale, The distant cry from hurrying sail.

From year to year the weeds had grown O'er walls slow-rotting with the damp; And, with the weeds, decay'd, alone, The Warder of the lamp.

III.

But twice in every week from sh.o.r.e Fuel and food the boatmen bore; And then so dreary was the scene, So wild and grim the warder's mien, So many a darksome legend gave Awe to that Tadmor of the wave, That scarce the boat the rock could gain, Scarce heaved the pannier on the stone, Than from the rock and from the main, Th' unwilling life was gone.

IV.

A man he was whom man had driven To loathe the earth and doubt the heaven; A tyrant foe (beloved in youth) Had call'd the law to crush the truth; Stripp'd hearth and home, and left to shame The broken heart--the blacken'd name.

Dark exile from his kindred, then, He hail'd the rock, the lonely wild: Upon the man at war with men The frown of Nature smiled.

V.

But suns on suns had roll'd away; The frame was bow'd, the locks were grey: And the eternal sea and sky Seem'd one still death to that dead eye; And Terror, like a spectre, rose From the dull tomb of that repose.

No sight, no sound, of human-kind; The hours, like drops upon the stone!

What countless phantoms man may find In that dark word--"ALONE!"

VI.