Classic Poem

From Lebanon red morning glances
On billows that foam and toss sunwards;
From Cyprus with white sails advances
The Crusader ship ever onwards.
Rudél, the young prince of Blaye, lies on
The deck, and with fever doth wrestle;
His swimming eyes scan the horizon
For the turrets of Tripoli's castle.

When the far Asian coastline is sighted
His familiar canzone he singeth:
‘O fair foreign Love, to whom plighted
My troth is, I 'm heart-sick for thee.’
Its flight a grey halcyon wingeth,
And prolongs the sweet note of repining;
The sun, on the white canvas shining,
In mist veils his face from the sea.

The vessel with furled sails lies gladly
At rest in the port. Then descendeth
Young Bertrand: alone and full sadly
His way up the hillside he wendeth.
Round Rudél's escutcheon a slender
Funereal scarf doth he wind;
To the castle then hastes: ‘Melisenda
Of Tripoli where shall I find?

‘I come as love's messenger hither,
I come as death's messenger: duty
And love bid me enter here, whither
I am sent by Rudél, lord of Blaye.
Men spake unto him of thy beauty;
Unseen he did love thee, did sing thee:
He comes, he is dying. I bring thee
Thy true poet's greeting to-day.’

The lady gazed long on the squire,
Deep plunged in her thoughts, then, deciding,
She rose, with a black veil the fire
Of her eyes and her loveliness hiding.
‘Sir squire,’ said she quickly, ‘come, show me
Where Jaufré lies dying. Thou waitest
Not vainly, true bard; thou shalt know me,
Shalt hear love's first words and love's latest.’

'Neath a stately pavilion extended
Lay Jaufré in sight of the ocean,
And, with notes of his canzone blended,
Breathed forth the last wish of his heart.
‘O God, who did'st for my devotion
Create this far Love, be it given
Unto me, clasped at last in the heaven
Of her arms, from this life to depart.’

Meanwhile with young Bertrand drew nigher
She on whom all this prayer was centred,
And, hearing his last notes expire,
Wept in pity awhile ere she entered.
Then straightway the veil that did cover
Her face she tore off, and drew near
With quick steps to the couch of her lover.
‘Look, Jaufré,’ she said, ‘I am here.’

In a moment the prince turned, upraising
His breast on the rugs strewn to soften
The couch: at those fair features gazing
Entrancèd, he breathed one long sigh.
‘Are these the bright eyes that so often
Love promised should shine on me waking?
Is this the fair brow to which, breaking
All barriers, my fond dreams would fly?’

As when on a May night beclouded
The moon her white radiance is streaming
O'er the world that in slumber lies shrouded,
And the air with night perfumes is teeming,
E'en so with a wondrous completeness
His pain by her beauty was ended,
And comfort divine in its sweetness
On the dying man's spirit descended.

‘Ah, lady, what 's life and its glory?
A dream and a shadow soon over.
Life reaches its end like a story!
'Tis love that alone lasts for aye.
Embrace then thy sorrowful lover!
At the Last Day these arms shall receive thee.
And now, Melisenda, I give thee
My soul in one kiss ere I die.’

The countess stooped low as she pressed him
To her bosom in speechless emotion,
Then thrice with the kiss of love kissed him
With pale lips that trembled to his.
As it dipped to the glittering ocean
The sun from a heaven unclouded
Lit her tresses of gold that enshrouded
The bard, who had died in the kiss.