Then clear rang out the huntsman’s shout,
Right merrily cried he,
“God’s with the son of Hardigrave
Who loves La Belle Marie!”
Oh, deep cursed Giles of Clariveaux
To hear his sister’s name,
While ’neath his vizor burned his eyes
Like orbs of evil flame!
“Have at thee, Hardigrave!” he hissed,
“This riding thou shalt rue!”
And round them like a fiery mist
The spiteful sparks outflew.
’Twas parry, cut and countercut,
And fiercer-faced the while
Grew treacherous Giles of Clariveaux
To mark the huntsman’s smile.
And seeing he was sore beset,
That urgent grew his need,
He aimed a caitiff’s coward blow
To maim his foeman’s steed.
But vain that cruel, craven thrust,
For whiles he strove to rein
The shoulder of his sword-arm
Was riven half in twain.
* * * * *
O starling in the thicket, see
Where, eyes with love aglow,
Adown the forest pathway goes
The rose of Clariveaux!
And hearken, O ye holly boughs!
And, O ye larches, list!
It is the song of one who rides
To keep his Christmas tryst.
A Knight’s Christmas
I hear the shrilling hautboys sound,
The thrilling drums take up the din,
And through the doorway’s gaping bound
A lusty, mincing manikin
Bears, garlanded, the boar’s head in.
The great bells clamor in the tower
Their jubilation. Down the hall
Mirth bursts into a brilliant flower
Of quip and toast and madrigal;
“Noel! Noel! Noel!” cry all.