II

The lords of the Court they sighed heart-sick, Heart-free Lord Dusiote laughed: I prize her no more than a fling o’ the dice, But, or shame to my manhood, a lady of ice,

We master her by craft! Heart-sick the lords of joyance yawned, Lord Dusiote laughed heart-free: I count her as much as a crack o’ my thumb,

But, or shame of my manhood, to me she shall come Like the bird to roost in the tree! At dead of night when the palace-guard Had passed the measured rounds,

The young princess awoke to feel A shudder of blood at the crackle of steel Within the garden-bounds. It ceased, and she thought of whom was need,

The friar or the leech; When lo, stood her tirewoman breathless by: Lord Dusiote, madam, to death is nigh, Of you he would have speech.

He prays you of your gentleness, To light him to his dark end. The princess rose, and forth she went, For charity was her intent,

Devoutly to befriend. Lord Dusiote hung on his good squire's arm, The priest beside him knelt: A weeping handkerchief was pressed

To stay the red flood at his breast, And bid cold ladies melt. O lady, though you are ice to men, All pure to heaven as light

Within the dew within the flower, Of you‘ tis whispered that love has power When secret is the night. I have silenced the slanderers, peace to their souls!

Save one was too cunning for me. I die, whose love is late avowed, He lives, who boasts the lily has bowed To the oath of a bended knee.

Lord Dusiote drew breath with pain, And she with pain drew breath: On him she looked, on his like above; She flew in the folds of a marvel of love,

Revealed to pass to death. You are dying, O great-hearted lord, You are dying for me, she cried; O take my hand, O take my kiss,

And take of your right for love like this, The vow that plights me bride. She bade the priest recite his words While hand in hand were they,

Lord Dusiote's soul to waft to bliss; He had her hand, her vow, her kiss, And his body was borne away.