Take note, my lady, that your way
Lies backward to the Chatelet!"

She shook her head and gazed awhile
At her cold hands with a rueful smile,
As though this thing had made her mad.

This was the parting that they had
Beside the haystack in the floods.

William Morris

16

BRO

RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY1

ROAD the forests stood (I read) on the hills of
Linteged;

And three hundred years had stood mute adown each hoary wood,

Like a full heart having prayed.

And the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang

west;

And but little thought was theirs of the silent antique years In the building of their nest.

Down the sun dropt large and red on the towers of Linteged,Lance and spear upon the height, bristling strange in fiery light,

While the castle stood in shade.

There the castle stood up black with the red sun at its back Like a sullen, smoldering pyre with a top that flickers fir When the wind is on its track.

1 The prologue and epilogue of the poem, together with the parenthetica burden ("Toll slowly"), which appears between the first and second line of every stanza, are here omitted.

And five hundred archers tall did besiege the castle wall, And the castle seethed in blood, fourteen days and nights

had stood

And to-night was near its fall.

Yet thereunto, blind to doom, three months since, a bride did come,

One who proudly trod the floors, and softly whispered in the

doors,

"May good angels bless our home."

Oh, a bride of queenly eyes, with a front of constancies, Oh, a bride of cordial mouth where the untired smile of youth

Did light outward its own sighs!

'Twas a duke's fair orphan girl, and her uncle's wardthe earl,

Who betrothed her twelve years old, for the sake of dowry gold,

To his son Lord Leigh the churl.

But what time she had made good all her years of womanhood, Unto both these lords of Leigh spake she out right sovranly, "My will runneth as my blood.

"And while this same blood makes red this same right hand's veins,” she said,

""Tis my will as lady free, not to wed a lord of Leigh, But Sir Guy of Linteged."

The old earl he smiled smooth, then he sighed for willful

youth,―

"Good my niece, that hand withal looketh somewhat soft and small

For so large a will in sooth."

She, too, smiled by that same sign; but her smile was cold and fine.

"Little hand clasps muckle gold, or it were not worth the hold

Of thy son, good uncle mine.”

Then the young lord jerked his breath, and sware thickly in his teeth,

"He would wed his own betrothed, an she loved him an she loathed,

Let the life come, or the death."

Up she rose with scornful eyes, as her father's child might

rise,

"Thy hound's blood, my Lord of Leigh, stains thy knightly. heel," quoth she,

"And he moans not where he lies;

"But a woman's will dies hard, in the hall or on the sward— By that grave, my lords, which made me orphaned girl and dowered lady,

I deny you wife and ward!"

Unto each she bowed her head, and swept past with lofty tread. Ere the midnight bell had ceased, in the chapel had the priest Blessed her, bride of Linteged.

Fast and fain the bridal train along the night storm rode amain: Hard the steeds of lord and serf struck their hoofs out on the

turf,

In the pauses of the rain.

Fast and fain the kinsmen's train along the storm pursued amain,

Steed on steed-track, dashing off,-thickening, doubling, hoof on hoof,

In the pauses of the rain.

And the bridegroom led the flight on his red-roan steed of

might,

And the bride lay on his arm, still, as if she feared no harm, Smiling out into the night.

"Dost thou fear?" he said at last. "Nay," she answered him in haste,

"Not such death as we could find: only life with one behind. Ride on fast as fear, ride fast!”

Up the mountain wheeled the steed, girth to ground, and fetlocks spread,

Headlong bounds, and rocking flanks,-down he staggered, down the banks,

To the towers of Linteged.

High and low the serfs looked out, red the flambeaus tossed

about,

In the courtyard rose the cry, "Live the duchess and Sir Guy!" But she never heard them shout.

On the steed she dropped her cheek, kissed his mane, and kissed his neck,

"I had happier died by thee than lived on a Lady Leigh," Were the first words she did speak.

But a three-months' joyaunce lay 'twixt that moment and

to-day,

When five hundred archers tall stand beside the castle wall To recapture Duchess May.

And the castle standeth black, with the red sun at its back; And a fortnight's siege is done; and, except the duchess, none Can misdoubt the coming wrack.

Then the captain, young Lord Leigh, with his eyes so gray of blee,

And thin lips that scarcely sheath the cold white gnashing of his teeth,

Gnashed in smiling, absently,

Cried aloud, "So goes the day, bridegroom fair of Duchess

May!

Look thy last upon that sun! if thou seest to-morrow's one "Twill be through a foot of clay.

"Ha, fair bride! dost hear no sound, save that moaning of the

hound?

Thou and I have parted troth; yet I keep my vengeance-oath And the other may come round.

"Ha! thy will is brave to dare, and thy new love past com

pare;

Yet thine old love's falchion brave is as strong a thing to hav As the will of lady fair.

"Peck on blindly, netted dove! If a wife's name thee behove Thou shalt wear the same to-morrow, ere the grave has hi the sorrow

Of thy last ill-mated love.

"O'er his fixed and silent mouth thou and I will call ba

troth;

He shall altar be and priest; and he will not cry at least, 'I forbid you, I am loath!'