Part V

The Earl return'd in joyful case
Unto his fathers' dwelling-place.
Every day brought back to him
A part of his joy, which had waxed dim;
And he grew now, of face and mien,
More comely than ever he had been.
And unto all who in former years
Had been his friends and his comforters,
He told how God's all-mercifulness
Had deliver'd him out of his distress.
And they rejoiced, giving the praise
To God and His unsearchable ways.

Then thitherward full many a road
Men came, a gladsome multitude;
They came in haste, they rode and they ran,
To welcome the gallant gentleman;
Their own eyes they could scarce believe,
Beholding him in health and alive.
A strange sight, it may well be said,
When one revives that was counted dead.

The worthy peasant who so long
Had tended him when the curse was strong,
In the good time stay'd not away,
Nor his wife could be brought to stay.
'Twas then that after long suspense
Their labour gat its recompense.
They who had hoped no other thing
Than the sight of their lord, on entering
Saw the sweet damsel by his side,
In perfect measure satisfied,
Who caught them round with either arm,
And clave to them closely and warm.

Long time they kissed her, in good sooth —
They kissed her on her cheeks and mouth.
Within their breasts their hearts were light;
And eyes which first laughed and were bright
Soon overbrimmed with many tears,
The tokens of the joy that was theirs.

Then the good honest Swabians
Who erst had shared the inheritance
Of the sick lord, gave back the land,
Unasked, which they had ta'en at his hand.
Him did they wholly reinstate
In every title and estate
That heretofore he had possess'd.
But ever he pondered in his breast
Upon those wondrous things which once
God wrought on his flesh and in his bones.

Nor did he in anywise forget
The friendly pair whose help, ere yet
His hours of pain were overpast,
Had stood him in such stead. The taste
Of bitter grief he had brought on them
Found such reward as best became —
He gave the little farm and the field,
With the cattle whereby they were till'd,
With servants eke, to the honest twain;
So that no fears plagued them again
Lest any other lord should come
At length and turn them from their home.
Also his thankful favour stay'd
Evermore with the pious maid:
Many a day with her he spent,
And gave her many an ornament,
Because of what is said in my rhyme
And the love he bore her from old time.

Thus, it may be, a year went o'er:
Then all his kinsfolk urged him sore
Some worthy woman for to woo,
And bring her as his wife thereto.
And he answer'd, "Truly as I live,
This is good counsel that ye give."

So he summoned every lord his friend,
That to this matter they might bend
Such help as honest friends can bring.
And they all came at his summoning,
Everywhence, both far and near;
And eke his whole vassalage was there, —
Not a single man but was come:
It made, good sooth, a mighty sum.
And the earl stepp'd forward in their sight,
Saying, "Sirs, my mind is fixed aright
To wed even as your wills decide:
Take counsel then, and choose me a bride."
So they got together and began;
But there was a mind for every man.
Both ways they wrangled, aye and no,
As counsellors are sure to do.

Then again he spake to them and cried;
"Dear friends, now let alone the bride,
And rede me a thing. All of ye know,
Doubtless, that I, a while ago,
With a most loathsome ill was cross'd,
And appear'd to be altogether lost,
So that all people avoided me
With cursings and cruel mockery.
And yet no man scorneth me now,
Nor woman either; seeing how
God's mercy hath made me whole again.
Then tell me, I pray of ye full fain,
What I may do to His honouring
Who to mine aid hath done this thing."

And they all answered immediately:
"By word and deed it behoveth thee
To offer thyself to the Most High,
And work for Him good works thereby,
That the life He spared may be made His."

"Then," quoth the Earl, "hearken me this.
The damozel who standeth here, —
And whom I embrace, being most dear, —
She it is unto whom I owe
The grace it hath pleased God to bestow.
He saw the simple-spirited
Earnestness of the holy maid,
And even in guerdon of her truth
Gave back to me the joys of my youth,
Which seem'd to be lost beyond all doubt
And therefore I have chosen her out
To wed with me, knowing her free.
I think that God will let this be.
But now if I fail, and not obtain,
I will never embrace woman again;
For all I am, and all I have,
Is but a gift, sirs, that she gave.
Lo! I enjoin ye, with God's will,
That this my longing ye fulfil:
I pray ye all, have but one voice,
And let your choice go with my choice."

Then the cries ceased, and the counter-cries,
And all the battle of advice,
And every lord, being content
With Henry's choice, granted assent.

Then the priests came, to bind as one
Two lives in bridal unison.
Into his hand they folded hers,
Not to be loosed in coming years,
And utter'd between man and wife
God's blessing on the road of their life.

Many a bright and pleasant day
The twain pursued their steadfast way,
Till, hand in hand, at length they trod
Upward to the kingdom of God.
Even as it was with them, even thus,
And quickly, it must be with us.
To such reward as theirs was then,
God help us in His hour. Amen.