From Uwaine's realm she came to serve
At court in Hoel's land;
No maid so fair in Brittany
E'er knelt and kissed his hand;
The Fool who saw the King's eyes flame
Shuddered to understand.
Her eyes she lifted to the King,
And — startled — grew afraid,
As if she felt upon her heart
Some heavy joy were laid;
A sudden gladness left her weak,
A little prayer she made;
She did not know it was a prayer, —
The sob her breath drew in;
" Beware his kiss, what can it mean
But fear and shame and sin?
Beware his kiss, 'tis woe and death! "
Thus soft sang Gawdelin.
She heard the song the good Fool sang:
The King, he too had heard,
And something in his soul awoke
To flutter like a bird;
He took her hands between his hands,
But neither spoke a word. ...
The summer sun that lately shone
Above the garden there,
Descended 'mid the far-off hills
And shadows ventured where
The day still lingered in the warmth
And sunlight of her hair.
Came darkness soft, and peace, until
The deep unknown unrest
That stirred her heart was echoed from
The song the night loves best, —
The nightingale's flame song that burns
Strange wounds in every breast.
Anon the King's arms held her close,
Their lips met, ardent, then;
Anon the King's arms held her off
A little way, as when
He looked at her as though she were
The one maid left to men. ...
The Fool stole forth and late it was;
The revels screamed within.
" Beware his kiss, what can it mean
But shame and fear and sin?
Beware his kiss, 'tis woe and death! "
Again sang Gawdelin.
The Fool's lips lingered to his flute,
And prayed in melody;
It was a tender tune he made,
As piteous as could be, —
Then sad, anon, he stole away,
Unnoticed, silently.
And when again the Fool had gone
The King put love aside;
Compassionate, he turned from her,
Whose heart had vanquished pride;
With many tears and broken words,
" Stay — Sire, oh, stay! " she cried.
In love and sorrow Hoel turned;
He knew not what to say;
But as he fled from her sweet voice
He knew his heart would stay
Behind him in the darkness where
She, swooning, fell and lay. ...
At last her grief called out to her;
She woke to memory,
To weep in humble loneliness;
" Despite his care for me
I would I were a light-o'-love, —
I would I were! " sobbed she.
Long Hoel lived, and fought, and smiled;
None knew his secret pain,
Except the Fool who played to him
Sweet music, soft like rain;
And in a convent 'mid the hills
The maiden prayed, in vain.
At court in Hoel's land;
No maid so fair in Brittany
E'er knelt and kissed his hand;
The Fool who saw the King's eyes flame
Shuddered to understand.
Her eyes she lifted to the King,
And — startled — grew afraid,
As if she felt upon her heart
Some heavy joy were laid;
A sudden gladness left her weak,
A little prayer she made;
She did not know it was a prayer, —
The sob her breath drew in;
" Beware his kiss, what can it mean
But fear and shame and sin?
Beware his kiss, 'tis woe and death! "
Thus soft sang Gawdelin.
She heard the song the good Fool sang:
The King, he too had heard,
And something in his soul awoke
To flutter like a bird;
He took her hands between his hands,
But neither spoke a word. ...
The summer sun that lately shone
Above the garden there,
Descended 'mid the far-off hills
And shadows ventured where
The day still lingered in the warmth
And sunlight of her hair.
Came darkness soft, and peace, until
The deep unknown unrest
That stirred her heart was echoed from
The song the night loves best, —
The nightingale's flame song that burns
Strange wounds in every breast.
Anon the King's arms held her close,
Their lips met, ardent, then;
Anon the King's arms held her off
A little way, as when
He looked at her as though she were
The one maid left to men. ...
The Fool stole forth and late it was;
The revels screamed within.
" Beware his kiss, what can it mean
But shame and fear and sin?
Beware his kiss, 'tis woe and death! "
Again sang Gawdelin.
The Fool's lips lingered to his flute,
And prayed in melody;
It was a tender tune he made,
As piteous as could be, —
Then sad, anon, he stole away,
Unnoticed, silently.
And when again the Fool had gone
The King put love aside;
Compassionate, he turned from her,
Whose heart had vanquished pride;
With many tears and broken words,
" Stay — Sire, oh, stay! " she cried.
In love and sorrow Hoel turned;
He knew not what to say;
But as he fled from her sweet voice
He knew his heart would stay
Behind him in the darkness where
She, swooning, fell and lay. ...
At last her grief called out to her;
She woke to memory,
To weep in humble loneliness;
" Despite his care for me
I would I were a light-o'-love, —
I would I were! " sobbed she.
Long Hoel lived, and fought, and smiled;
None knew his secret pain,
Except the Fool who played to him
Sweet music, soft like rain;
And in a convent 'mid the hills
The maiden prayed, in vain.