THE LADY AND THE FLOWER.

BY G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.

There be of British arms and deeds,

Who sing in noble strain,

Of Poictiers' field, and Agincourt,

And Cressy's bloody plain.

High tales of merry England,

Full often have been told,

For never wanted bard to sing

The actions of the bold.

But now I tune another string,

To try my minstrel power,

My story's of a gallant knight,

A lady, and a flower.

The noble sun that shines on all,

The little or the great,

As bright on cottage doorway small,

As on the castle gate,

Came pouring over fair Guienne

From the far eastern sea;

And glistened on the broad Garonne,

And slept on Blancford lea.

The morn was up, the morn was bright,

In southern summer's rays,

And Nature caroll'd in the light,

And sung her Maker's praise.

Fair Blancford, thou art always fair,

With many a shady dell,

And bland variety and change,

Of forest and of fell.

But Blancford on that morn was gay,

With many a pennon bright,

And glittering arms and panoply

Shone in the morning light.

For good Prince Edward, England's pride,

Now lay in Blancford's towers,

And weary sickness had consumed,

The hero's winter hours.

But now that brighter hopes had come,

With summer's brighter ray,

He called his gallant knights around,

To spend a festal day.

With tournament and revelry,

To pass away the hours,

And win fair Mary from her sire,

The Lord of Blancford's towers.

But why fair Mary's brow was sad

None in the castle knew,

Nor why she watched one garden bed,

Where none but wild pinks grew.

Some said that seven nights before

A page had sped away,

To where Lord Clifford with his power,

On Touraine's frontier lay.

To Blancford no Lord Clifford came,

And many a tale was told,

For well 'twas known that he had sought,

Fair Mary's love of old.

And some there said Lord Clifford's love

Had cooled at Mary's pride,

And some there said that other vows

His heart inconstant tied.

Foul slander, ready still to soil,

All that is bright and fair,

With more than Time's destructiveness,

Who never learned to spare.

The morn was bright, but posts had come,

Bringing no tidings fair,

For knit was Edward's royal brow,

And full of thoughtful care.

The lists were set, the parted sun

Shone equal on the plain,

And many a knight there manfully

Strove fresh applause to gain.

Sir Henry Talbot, and Sir Guy

Of Brackenbury, he

Who slew the giant Iron-arm,

On Cressy's famous lea,

Were counted best, and claimed the Prince

To give the sign that they

Might run the tilt, and one receive

The honors of the day.

"Speed, knights, perhaps those arms that shine

In peace," prince Edward said,

"Before a se'nnight pass, may well,

In Gallic blood be died.

"For here we learn that hostile bands,

Have gathered in Touraine,

And Clifford, with his little troop,

Are prisoners or slain.

"For with five hundred spears, how bold

Soe'er his courage show,

He never could withstand the shock,

Of such a host of foe."

Fair Mary spoke not, but the blood

Fled truant from her cheek,

And left it pale, as when day leaves

Some mountain's snowy peak.

But then there camp the cry of horse,

The east lea pricking o'er,

And to the lists a weary page

A tattered pennon bore.

Fast came a knight with blood-stained arms,

And dusty panoply,

And beaver down, and armed lance,

In chivalric array.

No crest, no arms, no gay device,

Upon his shield he wore,

But a small knot beside his plume,

Of plain wild pinks he bore.

For love, for love and chivalry,

Lord Clifford rides the plain,

And foul he lies who dares to say,

His honor e'er know stain.

And Mary's cheek 'gan blushing bright,

And Mary's heart beat high,

And Mary's breath that fear oppressed

Came in a long glad sigh.

Straight to the Prince the knight he rode,

"I claim these lists," he cried,

"Though late into the field I come,

My suit be not denied;

[pg 228]

"For we have fought beside the Loire,

And stained our arms in blood;

Not ever lost one step of ground,

So long as rebels stood.

"Hemmed in, I one time never thought

To die in British land,

Or see my noble prince again,

Or kiss his royal hand.

"But well fought every gallant squire,

And well fought every knight;

And rebels have been taught to feel

The force of British might.

"And now in humble terms they sue,

To know thy high command,

And here stand I these lists to claim,

For a fair lady's hand.

"For Mary's love, and chivalry,

I dare the world to fight,

And foul and bitterly he lies,

Who dares deny my right"

"No, no, brave Clifford," Edward said,

"No lists to-day for thee,

Thy gallant deeds beside the Loire,

Well prove thy chivalry.

"Sir Guy, Sir Henry, and the rest,

Have well acquit their arms,

But Edward's thanks are Clifford's due,

As well as Mary's charms."

"My lord, you are her sire," he said,

"Give kind consent and free,

And who denies our Clifford's right,

Shall ride a tilt with me."

Gay spake the prince, gay laughed the throng,

And Mary said not nay,

And bright with smile, and dance, and song,

Went down the festal day.

And when Lord Clifford to the board

Led down his Mary fair,

A knot of pinks was in his cap,

A knot was in her hair.

For it had been their sign of love,

And loved by them was still,

Till death came quietly on their heads,

And bowed them to his will.

And now, though years have passed away,

And all that years have seen,

And Clifford's deeds and Mary's charms,

Are as they ne'er had been,

Some wind, as if in memory

Has borne the seeds on high,

To deck the ruin's crumbling wall,

And catch the passing eye.

It tells a tale to those who hear;

For beauty, strength, and power,

Are but the idols of a day,

More short-lived than a flower.

Joy on, joy on, then, while ye may,

Nor waste the moments dear;

Nor give yourself a cause to sigh,

Nor teach to shed a tear.