Fair Elsey

On grassy paddock they dance and fling,
Along the strand of the sea they go.
Their rioting wakes the chambered king.
He's lucky who never lias tasted woe,

The meadow they next so gaily tread,
Their revel is heard by the king in bed.

Sir Iver he leads the joyous band,
The liveliest knight in all the land.

Up starts from his midnight dream the king;
"What harper so skillfully strikes the string?"

"No harper was that, nor harpstring twang;
"With voice so thrilling Sir Iver sang."

"The midsummer night is mild and short,
"I'll up and ride there, and see the sport."

The king bids saddle his courser gray;
"I'll e'en to the mead, and see the play."

The king halts under a linden tree
Those graceful and active swains to see.

"A finer man I have never known,
"Nor is there in all the land but one.

"As slender is he as a crane and light,
"His skin it is like a swan's so white."

"Yet" answered the pageboy "rumour tells,
"That him his sister by far excels:

"So graceful, so lovely, so sweet and fair,
"She may with a princess well compare.

"And when in ermine she stands array'd,
"Is nobler than e'en a royal maid:

"As white as a lily, as fine as grass,
"For other maidens a looking-glass.

"By night she joins not the dancers' throng,
"Nor stands to list to the warbler's song."

The king twice round the meadow rode.
On Iver his special glance bestow'd.

Then sprang in amid the dancers' band,
And eagerly seiz'd Sir Iver's hand.

"Hark now, Sir Iver, youth so gay,
"And where is thy sister, Elsey, say."

"She works with gold in her lonely bower,
"And seldom she knows a cheerful hour.

"She sits in her bower, and weaves the braid,
"As well it beseems an orphan maid."

"Now hark, Sir Iver, thou well bred knight,
"Go fetch her hither to dance tonight."

"Thy wishes, my King, I am loth to cross,
"But dare not for fear of her honour's loss.

"For ill it becomes one gently bred,
"With drunken men in a dance to tread."

The king hi" prancing horse bestrode,
And homeward in -sullen temper rode.

The night long he tossed a sleepless head,
With thoughts of all that his page had said.

"Say, knave, if thou knowest a time and place,
"Where view we may catch of Elsey's face?"

"Five nuns tomorrow will take the veil,
"And she to be with them will not fail."

The king he dress'd, and his horse bestrode.
And off at once to the Abbey rode.

As walk'd fair Elsey in veil attired,
Her graceful figure the king admired.

The nuns stripp'd off their blyand small.
And clad themselves all in cloister pall.

Away their gold and brocade they threw.
And coarsest linen upon them drew.

The bishop before the altar stood,
And chatmted as march'd the sisterhood.

Around her curling and silky hair
A chaplet of pearl fair Elsey bare.

As back from the altar she turn'd her round,
Amid the gazers the king she found.

With reverence due she humbly bent.
But sorrow was in her bosom pent.

The king came forward and spake so free,
"Fair Elsey, give thy troth to me/'

"Nay, sire/' she answer'd with much despite,
"he child am I of a generous knight.'

She straight to her fostermother went,
Her fears to tell, and her grief to vent.

"O let me, mother, thy counsel hear,
"The king intends me some ill, I fear.

"And better be poor without a stain,
"Than wealth with a loss of honour gain."

She call'd to her maid "O haste," said she,
"Come hither and change thy dress with me."

"My mistress shall always find me true,
"Whatever she orders me to do."

Her maid in a silken dress she clad,
Herself in a coarse grey woollen plaid.

Her golden brooch to the maid she lent.
Herself in a menial raiment went.

"Now take thy seat in the gilded wain,
"I'll bid my servants to form thy train."

So proudly out of the church she drove.
That every eye to see her strove.

In costly raiment the maid was clad,
Her lady in cloak as coarse and sad.

The king stepp'd forward like humble swain.
And aided the maid to mount her wain.

The maid, she drove, and the king he rode,
Bat Elsey turned to her own abode.

Her plan she delay'd not a single hour,
But locked herself into a secret bower.

Its entrance was hidden within the wall,
That so it might be unknown to all.

Those others they reach'd the grove of rose,
And there would the king a while repose.

He took her up in his arms again,
To lift her down from the gilded wain.

"Fair Elsey, o let it not now displease
"To stroll with me under the linden trees.

"The road is weary, the daylight long,
"We'll stay and list to the warbler's song.

"We'll make us a couch of linden spray,
"And taste the sweets of a summer day."

"King, give over your warm caress,
"For I have in charge my lady's dress."

Her veil of blyand aside she threw.
And gray and wrinkled she stood to view.

"Away, wench! thee may the hangman fetch;
"Thy mistress I'll yet find means to catch.

"Nay tho' she journey from hence to Rome,
"I'll find her again, and bring her home."

The midsummer night was short and cold.
As rode the king in the wood and wold.

Himself he rode, and his servants run,
But trace of Elsey they found there none;

For hidden from sight in bosky dell
Was under the ground fair Elsey's cell.

But when they enter'd the Rosewood, hark!
They heard the sound of a lapdog's bark.

They roird the stones, they delved the ground.
And there the lily again they found.

They seized on her gold-embroider'd band,
And bound with it fast her fair white hand.

"Thy band we shall use to make a chain,
"Thou wilt not so easily slip again."

In horseman's mantle they wrapp'd the fair,
And lifted her up with tender care.

They rode with her off to the wood of rose,
And there would the king awhile repose.

"Virgin Mary, hear thou my cry!
"And undishonour'd oh! let me die."

Fair Elsey she scream'd so loud, the sound
Was heard by pirates who lay aground.

They heard her, as e'en they came from sea;
"Now what can that cry of anguish be?"

The king was riding along the strand,
And met on their march the pirate band.

"Hold still, Sir Knight, and thy valour prove,'
"Or give us in prize thy lady-love.

"Surrender at once the gentle maid,
"Or dead on the ground shalt then be laid."

"Take her, — I rather resign the wife,
"Than hazard for her to lose my life."

In sunder they cut the golden band,
And loosed the maiden's lily hand.

The mantle they doff'd that wrapp'd her round.
And gently placed her upon the ground.

In ermine and martin they dress'd the fair,
And off to their ship the maiden bare.

But while they were sailing, and while they row'd,
Her tears in silent anguish flow'd.

"Cease, beauteous lady, cease to grieve,
"A noble shall soon your hand receive.

"We carry you hence to the land of Spain,
"A noble lover you there will gain.

"You Ul into so rich a land be sold,
"With ladles they count us their heaps of gold."

They hardly had left the Danish shore,
Ere furious winds began to roar.

Amid the tempest's howl and hiss
Down sank the ship to the dark abyss.

The billows, that drown'd the pirate crew.
On England's coast fair Elsey threw.

Wet, sad, and weary, and all alone.
She sat to rest on a block of stone.

She sat there wringing her silken dress,
And wept with her pain and weariness.

In tears she was pacing the lonely strand,
As rode there a knight along the sand.

"Now tell me who are you, my lady fair?
"Whence come you, and why are you waiting there?"

"Abroad I have needlework been taught,
"And hither against my will been brought."

He wrapped in his mantle the maid so fair.
And lifted her up on his horse with care.

They rode, and they came to his courtyard gate.
Where waiting her son his mother sate.

"Hark, Adelman! tell me, my dearest son,
"That lovely maiden where hast thou won?"

"As e'en I was riding along the strand,
"I found the lady upon the sand.

"Abroad she has needlework been taught.
"And hither against her will been brought."

"If here with us she would like to stay,
"All honour will we the lady pay."

Three weeks she tarried with them, or four.
And daily they loved her more and more.

Some nine weeks longer she there had stay'd.
And better and better they loved the maid.

The knight and his mother, the worthy dame,
Were sitting at board to play a game.

"Now, Adelman, tell me, my dearest son,
"What thoughts in thy head so strangely run?

"Thou seemest to take of the Rookh no care
"In thinking about the lady fair."

"'Tis all the maiden from yon sea-side,
"But do not, mother, I prithee, chide.

"'Tis Elsey, 'tis she my heart has won,
"But knows not herself what she has done."

"But what wilt thou with a lady win,
"Who cannot lay claim to kith or kin?"

"And tho' she may have no kinsmen more,
"Her virtue alone is an ample store."

His mother was smiling beneath her cloak;
'Twas only to try her son she spoke.

"My wish any longer I cannot hide
"To see. thee take her to be thy bride."

Five months the banquet did they prepare.
And Elsey was living devoid of care.

A knight rode up to the courtyard gate.
As there Sir Adelman's mother sate.

"O tell me. Lady, has not for gold
"Been lately to you a maiden sold?"

"My son was riding along the strand,
"And found a maid on the lonely sand.

"We're e'en now holding their wedding day,
"Go in, and join in a group so gay."

As into the hall she saw him stride,
Beneath her mantle smiled the bride.

"My only brother, Sir Iver, see!
"He comes to me over the salty sea/'

"O give your consent" the bridegroom said,
"That I may your sister Elsey wed."

Sir Iver answer'd in courteous strain,
"No happier lot could maid attain.

"In this my sister behold your wife,
"In me a brother and friend for life."

They sold their lands and returned no more,
But stay'd for life upon England's shore.