Page:Poems Barrett.djvu/116

"I said, 'My steed neighs in the court;
 My hark rocks on the brine;
And the warrior's vow, I am under now,
 To free the pilgrim's shrine:
But fetch the ring, and fetch the priest,
 And call that daughter of thine;
And rule she wide, from my castle on Nyde,
 While I am in Palestine.'

"In the dark chambere, if the bride was fair,
 Ye wis, I could not see;
But the steed thrice neighed, and the priest fast prayed,
 And wedded fast were we.
Her mother smiled upon her bed,
As at its side we knelt to wed;
 And the bride rose from her knee,—
And kissed the smile of her mother dead,
 Or ever she kissed me.

"My page, my page, what grieves thee so,
 That the tears run down thy face? "—
"Alas, alas! mine own sistèr
Was in thy lady's case!
But she laid down the silks she wore
And followed him she wed before,
Disguised as his true servitor,
 To the very battle-place."

And wept the page, and laughed the knight.—
 A careless laugh, laughed he:
"Well done it were for thy sister,
 But not for my ladye!
My love, so please you, shall requite
No woman, whether dark or bright,
 Unwomaned if she be."

The page stopped weeping, and smiled cold—
 "Your wisdom may declare
That womanhood is proved the best
By golden brooch and glossy vest