“This seven year with right good cheer
We twain our bridal keep,
So take for your mate another knight
And let my dear lord sleep.”
Then up and spake Sir Geoffrey’s bride,
“What bridal cheer is this?
I would think scorn to have the lips
Who could not have the kiss!
“I would think scorn to take the half
Who could not have the whole;
I would think scorn to steal the body
Who could not take the soul!
“For, though ye hold his body fast
This seven weary year,
His soul walks ever at my side
And whispers in my ear.
“I would think scorn to hold in sleep
What, if it waked, would flee,
So let his body join his soul
And both fare forth with me;
“For I have learned a spell more strong
Than yours that laid him low,
And I will speak it for his sake
Because I love him so!”
The white lady threw back her hair,
Her eyes began to shine—
“His soul is thine these seven years?—
To-night it shall be mine!
“I have been brave to hold him here
While seven long years befell,
Rather than let a bridal be
Whose seed should flower in hell.
“I have not looked into his eyes
Nor joined my lips to his,
For fear his soul should spring to flame
And shrivel at my kiss.
“I have been brave to watch his sleep
While the long hours come and go,
To hold the body without the soul,
Because I love him so.
“But since his soul this seven year
Has sat by thee,” she said,
“His body and soul to-night shall lie
Upon my golden bed.