Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 15, No. 90, June, 1875. Various

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      There thrust the bold straightforward horn

      To battle for that lady lorn;

      With heartsome voice of mellow scorn,

      Like any knight in knighthood's morn.

      "Now comfort thee," said he,

      "Fair Ladye.

      Soon shall God right thy grievous wrong,

      Soon shall man sing thee a true-love song,

      Voiced in act his whole life long,

      Yea, all thy sweet life long,

      Fair Ladye.

      Where's he that craftily hath said

      The day of chivalry is dead?

      I'll prove that lie upon his head,

      Or I will die instead,

      Fair Ladye.

      Is Honor gone into his grave?

      Hath Faith become a caitiff knave,

      And Selfhood turned into a slave

      To work in Mammon's cave,

      Fair Ladye?

      Will Truth's long blade ne'er gleam again?

      Hath Giant Trade in dungeons slain

      All great contempts of mean-got gain

      And hates of inward stain,

      Fair Ladye?

      For aye shall Name and Fame be sold,

      And Place be hugged for the sake of gold,

      And smirch-robed Justice feebly scold

      At Crime all money-bold,

      Fair Ladye?

      Shall self-wrapt husbands aye forget

      Kiss-pardons for the daily fret

      Wherewith sweet wifely eyes are wet—

      Blind to lips kiss-wise set—

      Fair Ladye?

      Shall lovers higgle, heart for heart,

      Till wooing grows a trading mart

      Where much for little, and all for part,

      Make love a cheapening art,

      Fair Ladye?

      Shall woman scorch for a single sin

      That her betrayer can revel in,

      And she be burnt, and he but grin

      When that the flames begin,

      Fair Ladye?

      Shall ne'er prevail the woman's plea,

      We maids would far, far whiter be

      If that our eyes might sometimes see

      Men maids in purity,

      Fair Ladye?

      Shall Trade aye salve his conscience-aches

      With jibes at Chivalry's old mistakes,

      The wars that o'erhot knighthood makes

      For Christ's and ladies' sakes,

      Fair Ladye?

      Now by each knight that e'er hath prayed

      To fight like a man and love like a maid,

      Since Pembroke's life, as Pembroke's blade,

      I' the scabbard, death, was laid,

      Fair Ladye.

      I dare avouch my faith is bright

      That God doth right and God hath might,

      Nor time hath changed His hair to white,

      Nor His dear love to spite,

      Fair Ladye.

      I doubt no doubts: I strive, and shrive my clay,

      And fight my fight in the patient modern way

      For true love and for thee—ah me! and pray

      To be thy knight until my dying day,

      Fair Ladye,"

      Said that knightly horn, and spurred away

      Into the thick of the melodious fray.

      And then the hautboy played and smiled,

      And sang like a little large-eyed child,

      Cool-hearted and all undefiled.

      "Huge Trade!" he said,

      "Would thou wouldst lift me on thy head,

      And run where'er my finger led!

      Once said a Man—and wise was He—

      Never shalt thou the heavens see,

      Save as a little child thou be."

      Then o'er sea-lashings of commingling tunes

      The ancient wise bassoons,

      Like weird

      Gray-beard

      Old harpers sitting on the wild sea-dunes,

      Chanted runes:

      "Bright-waved gain, gray-waved loss,

      The sea of all doth lash and toss,

      One wave forward and one across.

      But now 'twas trough, now 'tis crest,

      And worst doth foam and flash to best,

      And curst to blest.

      "Life! Life! thou sea-fugue, writ from east to west,

      Love, Love alone can pore

      On thy dissolving score

      Of wild half-phrasings,

      Blotted ere writ,

      And double erasings.

      Of tunes full fit.

      Yea, Love, sole music-master blest,

      May read thy weltering palimpsest.

      To follow Time's dying melodies through,

      And never to lose the old in the new,

      And ever to solve the discords true—

      Love alone can do.

      And ever Love hears the poor-folks' crying,

      And ever Love hears the women's sighing,

      And ever sweet knighthood's death-defying,

      And ever wise childhood's deep implying,

      And never a trader's glozing and lying.

      "And yet shall Love himself be heard,

      Though long deferred, though long deferred:

      O'er СКАЧАТЬ