Classic Poem

Meanwhile the glad Joanna took her road
Toward Rouen, bearing forth that writing rare
Which held Sir Mano's story, and him showed
Both with the Archbishop and the Duke to share
A father's heart, a brother's part to claim.
To give this to Duke Richard was her care,
Or to Lord Robert, when she thither came:
But best she hoped the Duke in place to find,
Who might with gentler grace receive the same:
(For Richard ever gentle was and kind,)
But he was absent on a hunting great,
So fell it not according to her mind.
And on that prelate proud alone to wait,
Destiny hastened her, and she full soon
By right of beauty passed his palace gate
That cruel man, receiving her anon
With gentleness (such power had beauty tho')
Her tidings read: then in his grey eyes shone
A laughing spark of doubt: and round did go
Those puckering wrinkles which sprang instantly,
If aught misliked him, and sped to and fro.
Doubt only grew in him from testimony,
The while she heard with horrible dismay
From his hard lips, swollen and stiff to see,
How under deadly sentence Mano lay:
His insurrection with the peasants made,
The slaying of that knight he slew that day.
But at this telling, though so sick dismayed,
That hardly she her shaking breast controlled,
Yet in brave speech she strove, and sternly bade
The man to save his brother true and bold,
And give him welcome to his high estate,
As he his father's name in love would hold
She bade him his mild brother imitate,
(His brother eke) most gentle and sincere,
As he his own renown on high did rate:
She said that he was God's high overseer:
And all she added else that best might weigh
With one who kept for honour open ear.
He, marking her more than what she might say,
Yet answered her with promise good and fair,
And bade her come again at no long day:
He said that he his purpose would declare
In that behalf whereof she made request,
And in the meantime bade her have less care
So went the dove from out the vulture's nest,
Resolved with earliest light to come again,
And find in what design he seemed to rest
With earliest light she came again, certain,
And was received with more joyful cheer
Than her the former day did entertain.
He said that Mano's lineage stood clear
In his belief: that messengers were gone
To set him free withouten let or fear:
And that he might those rights assume anon
Which should to him out of all doubt belong,
As he to princes brother was and son.
Which lying guile wrought joy so high and strong
In poor Joanna, that her eyes gan glow
With radiance that had been away too long:
Her cheeks in colour rose, long pined with woe,
So that he thought was never aught so fair:
And bade her not with hurry thence to go.
But never could she stay, secure of care,
Whilst all in issue hung: eager of heart
Thither, where lay Sir Mano to repair.
So from the palace gate she doth depart
Though hardly granted thence: but her intent
To go to Mano doth no thing impart.
So she her way to Mano's prison went
Leaving the bishop and his guileful mind,
Who one true thing in all ne said ne meant
For whether he to evil were inclined
For love of it, and cruelty preferred
Of malice, and an instinct brute and blind;
Or whether that old hate within him stirred,
Which he to Thurold owed in former days:
Or whether he misdoubted Gerbert's word,
(Gerbert, whom he misliked in sundry ways)
Concerning Mano and his parentage,
Nor would from him accept Sir Mano's praise:
Uncertain is, nor need a thought engage.
But to stay Mano's death, or set him free
'tis certain that he sent no embassage.
'twere poor to ask what wrought with such as he,
Yet, might I judge, he acted in this wise
Mostly from simple incredulity,
Not out of hate: because that in his eyes
What Gerbert wrote appeared incredible.
For cold the heart that steeped in pleasure lies,
And unbelief and doubt the closest dwell
Within the baser mind and duller head
These are Fate's hammers: accident her bell. —
Fate beat her bell, the death of her doomed dead.
If Robert had been forth, Richard at home,
And each had acted in the other's stead,
Then truly had another end been come
To sad Joanna's quest: Richard's true eyes
Had seen the truth, and stayed the impending doom.
Fair was Joanna ever, I avise:
But I have heard of certain that e'en now
Her day of fairest beauty seemed to rise,
When sorrow and long love had made her brow
Tenderly radiant, as the hanging skies
When the south wind moves every winged bough:
Such o'er the changing wood the May cloud flies,
Soft, bright, and light, was she: one lovely fold,
That seemed to gather to grave thought her eyes,
Of bygone sorrow and old anguish told,
One sweet contraction, delicate and fine:
But youth to bear love's burden still is bold: —
Her looks were strong ('tis age that has to pine)
Her eyes were quick, and lightsome as of yore,
Her rounded cheeks as perfect in their line:
Her step was like the deer on ferny floor,
Her figure tall, and like a balanced tower,
Which from his place seems stepping evermore,
So wondrously 'tis fashioned through art's power. —
She had those years which bring to per fectness:
And stood full blown, like to the lily's flower
Ah! now consider well in her fair dress
This lily of earth's field, her lovely head
Who rears amid the waste, companionless:
Wide open stands her heart: no secret dread
Bids her enfold her petals, like the rose,
Over her golden bosom undismayed.
Oh, undefended thus to friends or foes,
Shall she endure, then, in her perfect state,
Until she ripen to a timely close,
By the kind season carried to her date;
Or must she tremble on her lofty stem
At the rough hand of sudden-working Fate,
Scattering to the winds her diadem,
Brushing the tender gold-bloom from her heart;
And die in her full hour, a perfect gem,
In whose fair essence all sweet things have part?