Gold or gems she did not wear,
But her yellow rippled hair,
Like a veil, hid Guendolen!
'Twixt the sunlight and the shade,
My rough hands so strangely made,
Folded Golden Guendolen.
Hands used to grip the sword-hilt hard,
Framed her face, while on the sward
Tears fell down from Guendolen.
Guendolen now speaks no word,
Hands fold round about the sword:
Now no more of Guendolen.
Only 'twixt the light and shade
Floating memories of my maid
Make me pray for Guendolen.
Guendolen.
I kiss thee, new-found name! but I will never go:
Your hands need never grip the hammer'd sword again,
But all my golden hair shall ever round you flow,
Between the light and shade from Golden Guendolen.
Afterwards, in the Palace.
King Sebald.
I TOOK my armour off,
Put on king's robes of gold;
Over the kirtle green
The gold fell fold on fold.