Back to top

After the Tournament


After the Tournament

from: Lyrics and Old World Idylls (Pp. 340 - 341)  1907

The good Knight, SIR LIONELL DE GANIS, wounded unto death, addresses his
, EVALOTT, in the Forest of Dean, whither he has been borne on his shield.

And shall it be, when white thorns flake
With blossoms all the Maytime brake,
      The rustle of a flower or leaf
            Will let thee know
      That I am near thee, as thy grief,
            As long ago?

Or shall it be, when blows and dies
The wood-anemone, two eyes
      Will gaze in thine, as faint as frost?
            And thou, in dreams,
      Wilt hear the sigh of one long lost,
            Who near thee seems.

Or shall it be, where waters soothe
The stillness, thou wilt hear the smooth
      Dim notes of a familiar lute,
            And in thine ears
      Old Provence melodies, long mute,
            Like falling tears? . .

Now doff my helm. – Loop thy white arm
Beneath my hair. So. Let thy warm
      Blue eyes gaze in mine for a space,
            A little while . . .
      Love, it will rest me . . . And thy face –
            Ah, let it smile.

Now art thou thou. Yet – let thy hair,
A golden wonder, fall; thy fair
      Full throat bend low; thy kiss be hot
            With love, not dry
      With anguish. – Sweet, my Evalott!
            Now let me die.