Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE DUKE OF GUELDRES' WEDDING (1405), by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE DUKE OF GUELDRES' WEDDING (1405), by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The queen and all her waiting maids
Last Line: As blithe and bonny a bride!
Alternate Author Name(s): Duclaux, Madame Emile; Darmesteter, Mary; Robinson, A. Mary F.
Subject(s): Marriage; Weddings; Husbands; Wives


THE Queen and all her waiting maids
Are playing at the ball;
Mary Harcourt, the King's cousin,
Is fairest of them all.

The Queen and all her waiting maids
Are out on Paris green;
Mary Harcourt, the King's cousin,
Is fairer than the Queen.

The King sits in his council room,
The grey lords at his side,
And thro' the open window pane
He sees the game outside.

The King sits in the Council-room,
The young lords at his feet;
And through the pane he sees the ball,
And the ladies young and fleet.

"O bonny Mary Harcourt
Is seventeen to-day;
'Tis time a lover courted her,
And carried her away.

"Where shall I give my own cousin?
Where shall I give my kin?
And who shall be the peer of France
Her slender hand to win?"

Then up and spake an old grey lord,
And keen, keen was his eye:
"Your friends ye have already, Sire;
Your foes ye'll have to buy."

Then up and spake that old grey lord,
And keen, keen, was his glance:
"Marry the girl to Gueldres, Sire,
And gain a friend to France!"

"O how shall I wed my own cousin
To a little Flemish lord?"
-- "Nay; Gueldres is a gallant duke
And girt with many a sword."

"What will the Duke of Limburg say
If such a deed be done?"
-- "Last night your foes were twain, my lord;
To-day there'll be but one."

"Yet Limburg is a jealous man
And Gueldres quick and wroth."
-- "To-morrow they'll hew each other down,
And you'll be quit of both!"

O blithe was Mary Harcourt
The blithest of them all.
When forth there stepped that old grey lord
Out of the Council-hall.

O sad was Mary Harcourt
And sorry was her face
When back there stepped that old grey lord
And left her in her place.

"O shall I leave my own country,
And shall I leave my kin?"
O strange will be the Flemish streets
My feet shall wander in!

"O shall I learn to brace a sword,
And brighten up a lance?
I've learned to pull the flowers all day,
All night I've learned to dance!

"O shall I marry a Flemish knight,
And learn a Flemish tongue?
Would I had died an hour ago,
When I was blithe and young?"

Twice the moon and thrice the moon
Has waxed and waned away;
The streets of Gueldres town are braw
With sammet and with say;

And out of every window hang
The crimson squares of silk;
The fountains run with claret wine,
The runnels flow with milk.

The ladies and the knights of France,
How gallantly they ride!
And all in silk and red roses
The fairest is the bride.

"Now welcome, Mary Harcourt,
Thrice welcome, lady mine;
There's not a knight in all the world
Shall be so true as thine.

"There's venison in the aumbry, Mary,
There's claret in the vat.
Come in and dine within the hall
Where once my mother sat."

They had not filled a cup at dine,
A cup but barely four,
When the Duke of Limburg's herald
Came riding to the door.

"O where's the Duke of Gueldres?
O where's the groom so gay?
My master sends a wedding-glove
To grace the wedding-day.

"O where's the Duke of Gueldres
Upon his wedding night:
That I may cast this iron glove
And challenge him to fight?"

Gueldres is a gallant knight,
Gallant and good to see;
So swift he bends to raise the glove,
Lifting it courteously.

His coat is of the white velvet,
His cap is of the black,
A cloak of gold and silver work
Hangs streaming at his back.

He's ta'en the cloak from his shoulders
As gallant as may be:
"Take this, take this, Sir Messenger,
You've ridden far for me!

"Now speed you back to Limburg
As quickly as you may,
I'll meet your lord to-morrow morn,
To-day's my wedding-day."

The morrow Mary Harcourt
Is standing at the door:
"I let him go with an angry word,
And I'll see him never more.

"Mickle I wept to leave my kin,
Mickle I wept to stay
Alone in foreign Gueldres, when
My ladies rode away.

"With tears I wet my wedding-sheets,
That were so fine and white --
But for one glint of your eye, Gueldres,
I'd give my soul to-night!"

O long waits Mary Harcourt,
Until the sun is down;
The mist creeps up along the street,
And darkens all the town.

O long waits Mary Harcourt,
Till grey the dawn up springs;
But who is this that rides so fast
That all the pavement rings?

"Is that youself in the dawn, Gueldres?
Or is it your ghost so wan?"
-- "Now hush ye, hush ye, my bonny bride,
'Tis I, a living man.

"There's blood upon my hands, Mary,
There's blood upon my lance.
Go in and leave a rougher knight
Than e'er ye met in France."

"O what's the blood of a foe, Gueldres,
That I should keep away?
I did not love you yesternight;
I'd die for you to-day.

"I'll hold your dripping horse, Gueldres,
I'll hold your heavy lance:
I'd rather die your serving maid
Than live the Queen of France."

He's caught her in his happy arms,
He's clasped her to his side.
Now God give every gallant knight.
As blithe and bonny a bride!





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