Queen Yseult's Bell
Sir Tristram, riding over field and fell
Afar from her he loved, in Lyonesse
By strange adventure won a fairy bell
Whose mellow magic drove all heaviness
From pining hearts. The talisman he sent
To bright Yseult, who, on the Cornish throne,
Discrowned, bewailed her lover's banishment.
Her white hand shook the bell; it's charmèd tone
Assuaged her bosom's grief. But, "Ah," she thought,
"Would I be glad while Tristram mourns for me?
Shall he buy Love with tears, and I pay naught?"—
She rose and flung the bauble far to sea.
They know not Love, that do not love to share
With those that give them love, both joy and care.
Afar from her he loved, in Lyonesse
By strange adventure won a fairy bell
Whose mellow magic drove all heaviness
From pining hearts. The talisman he sent
To bright Yseult, who, on the Cornish throne,
Discrowned, bewailed her lover's banishment.
Her white hand shook the bell; it's charmèd tone
Assuaged her bosom's grief. But, "Ah," she thought,
"Would I be glad while Tristram mourns for me?
Shall he buy Love with tears, and I pay naught?"—
She rose and flung the bauble far to sea.
They know not Love, that do not love to share
With those that give them love, both joy and care.
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