Sing, sing,
Spring and birth!
A maid shall be mother of all the earth.
Winter's bones lie bare and bleak,
Scattered white on the mountain peak.
Through stark woods the Madonna Spring
Glides with her unborn offering.
Where she treads dead flowers stir
And raise their heads to gaze after her,
And trees make dense their boughs with green
That her motherhood may not be seen.
Summer lies hid 'neath her girlish breast;
Till her babe is bom she shall find no rest.
Yet is she glad in her wandering
And weaves meek songs 'gainst her mothering.
Birth, birth,
Lave and mirth!
Spring is Madonna of all the earth.
Son of God, thou little child
O'er whose sleep the Virgin smiled,
Guard us, though this night be wild,
From Lilith—Lilith.
Guard us, though our watch be slack,
Guard us, though the night be black,
Though this night all stars should lack
From Lilith—Lilith.
Stay her steps from drawing nigh,
Kiss my baby lest he cry,
And she hear him, and he die
From Lilith—Lilith.
Son of God, thou little child
O'er whose sleep the Virgin smiled,
May his soul be unbeguiled
By Lilith—Lilith.
Is there light of moon or sun
In the land where thou hast gone?
Does the rush of wind and rain
Smite thy woodlands green again?
Do dawn-birds rise up and sing,
Sunrise. Sunrise," heralding?
Dost thou fear, as once, the stark
Hours of panther-footed dark?
Oh, little maiden, sweetly frail,
Naught can these empty words avail.
For thee I clasp God's mantle fast,
Praying till night is overpast.
"Bianca of the yellow hair,
With witch-face white as ivory,
Yield to our might that we may bear
Thy body back to Rimini."
And thus the foemen cried all day
And strove to daunt with fierce display
Of armoured strength her maiden heart,
So that with them she might depart
From out that hill-tower where with three
She'd held the pass right fearlessly—
So that with them she might depart
To shameful death in Rimini.
Bianca, child of Abramo
The despot lord of Reggio,
Had set our country-side on flame
With the binning torch of her beauty's fame,
And a deadman's hate of her deadly name.
For she had gazed with cold gray eyes
On Rufo—he now starkly lies
Deep in a sculptured sepulchre,
Smitten with death through love of her.
Rufo, the heir of Ugo Count
Qf Rimini and vast amount
Of warrior-men and chivalry,
Had come to claim her haughtily;
But had scorched his soul in her golden hair.
As a wounded beast creeps to his lair,
So he vilely died by slow degrees
Of heart-break and a sore disease,
Till his eyes grew glazed and ceased to stir,
And his life gave out for his love of her.
Then Ugo swore a mighty oath,
By God's own Christ and by Christ's truth,
Though I go unarmed and go alone,
For my son's death she shall atone.
I'll take this witch of Reggio
And through the flames will make her go,
Till her sweet red lips grow cracked and sere,
Till her eyes are scarred and mad with fear,
Till her false young tongue cannot speak love's
name,
Till her tender feet drop off with flame—
Till she hath naught left that men desire
She shall pass and pass through consuming fire."
This was the oath which he did swear
When he cursed her face in his hate of her.
So Ugo rode on Reggio
And called on the name of Abramo,
Claiming the body of her who wrought
Love's enchantments and made distraught
The souls of the lovers who came to her,
And told of the oath which he did swear.
They bade him stand without the wall
And bore his tidings to the hall.
From early mom he stood till eve,
And still no message did receive.
When night was falling, dusk and dim,
A city harlot drew nigh to him
And grayly glimmered along the wall,
And stopped where the Count was standing tall.
What news," he cried, "from Abramo,
Must I raze this city of Reggio?"
He reared his plume to its towering height.
She leaned far out in the waning light.
He clutched with one hand his saddle-bow
And saw her smile when she answered, "No,"
And spat on his face and strained down on
him.
He rode away 'neath the crescent rim
Of a new-made moon through an olive-grove,
And evil passions within him strove;
In anger he gained the shining sea
Which silvers the shores of Rimini.
There he made great stir and called out his men,
And marshalled their ranks on a level fen,
And clothed them in black and gave beside
His knights black stallions which to ride,
And ordered no singing. "For," said he,
We mourn one dead in Rimini."
Over the hills he caused to go
His sombre ranks to Reggio;
Through pleasant valleys and dew-drenched woods
His horsemen paced in their sable hoods
With no shrill of bugle or revelry,
Like angels of Death's dread company.
At night they stole to the dty-wall
And clustered beneath the ramparts tall;
And hearkened for noise of warlike din,
And found no breath of strife within;
And watched for lights in the houses' eyes,
And saw but the stars within the skies.
Then as one voice they raised the shout,
The echo eddied their cry about,
We call on you men of Reggio
To give us the daughter of Abramo,
That she pass and pass through consuming fire
Till she hath naught left that men desire.
Give us the daughter of Abramo."
Swift and dread, dark-robed and dim,
Like thunder about a crater's brim,
They surged round the city at dead of night
And chased their shadows in stately flight,
And swept the circle with beating hoof,
And flashed their blades on high as proof
Of the hate they had; nor ceased to moan
Like men long dead 'neath the charnel-stone,
Give us the daughter of Abramo."
The dawn was groping up the sky,
An early bird was heard to cry;
Forth from the gate with haunted eyes
Four figures crept in leper's guise,
And two had long and yellow hair
And none had face or body bare.
Swiftly they ran from tree to tree
And wound their way all secretly
Through gloom and grove to the rising sun,
And through that day did onward run
Till evening came, and they drew at length
To the lonely might and granite strength
Of the hill-tower in the narrow pass
Where refuge and a safety was.
Then did they lock and bar the door
And armed themselves, for they knew before
Another moon should flood the sky
They would hear Count Ugo's hunting cry,
Yield to us, daughter of Abramo."
Two frail maids, two boyish men,
Lovers all in the good days when
Only the sun was in the sky
Nor clouds of grief came trailing by;
Two brave maids and two brave men
Now, in an hour of darkness, when
Only the clouds were in the sky
Loved more dearly than formerly.
Corrado, page of Bianca's court,
Had loved his mistress and long had sought
To speak his heart but feared, for he
Was a love-child owned of no family.
Celia was her half-sister,
Wondrous sweet and like to her,
So like that she had fled lest she
For Bianca's self should mistaken be.
Ciro, son of a noble name,
Loved this girl, therefore he came
To give his life, if need should be,
He loved her life so utterly.
Oft in the hush of a summer's night
When earth has rest from the savage might
Of flaming suns, and starlight sheds
Kindness of dew on flowers' heads,
And birds have got them away to rest,
These lads had whispered breast to breast
Of the joy they felt and happy thrills
When they heard so much as the shaken frills
Of these they loved in the passing by;
And then, betwixt a sob and sigh,
Had dreamed of a day when they should wed.
Vain dream! Vain dream! now here, instead,
With Bianca fled to the hill-side tower
They should strain and hearken hour by hour,
With clutching hands and bated breath,
For man's last bride—the Woman, Death.
And thus they sat a lengthy while
Till one face lit with a wandering smile:
Come now, my lords," Bianca said,
Why sit ye heavy-eyed and sad?
Men say ye each have loved a maid;
Surely, I think, I should be glad
To draw so near for an hour or two
The maid I loved, though well I knew
The early mom should find me dead."
Then he who loved her, laughed and said,
Yea, lady mine, I will be bold
Too long my love hath lain untold;
Yet mine was not an unshared sorrow
But grief for thine and thy sad to-morrow
If my lord, thy father, fail to send
His cavalry."
'God will defend
His maid," she said, "God will provide.
But, if to Rimini I ride,
I shall be glad recalling this,
That thou did'st not withhold thy kiss
When all my loves had forsaken me."
Aye love, brief love, sweet love," sighed he,
Thou art more than life—far more, far more."
So through that night, by the fast-locked door,
They spake of lové till they drooped to sleep,
Nor heard at dawn the wary creep
Of one who traced the outer-wall,
And found the marks of their foot-fall.
When mists were lifting off the sky
They sprang from dreams at a sudden cry,
And gazed with startled eyes around:
"'Tis naught," they laughed, "'twas a country
sound—
A late-awakened bird did call,
A wind blew through the water-fall.
'Tis naught—'tis naught."
But afar they heard
A wail not made by beast or bird;
A hungry moan, long-drawn and low,
"Give us the daughter of Abramo."
She stretched her arms along the wall
And leant aside as she would fall,
And cowered low 'neath her yellow hair
As though its weight were too much to bear.
And, "Oh, sweet God, dear God," she cried,
Hark how they come! They ride, they ride!
What ill have I ever done to Thee
That men should bum my fair body?
Stoop from Thy skies and succour me."
"Yea, God hath stooped. Fear not, dear heart,
For I and Ciro will play God's part,
And Celia sweet shall comfort thee
While we brand these dogs of Rimini."
With hurried feet they clomb the stair
And quickly gained the outer air,
And ghostly saw through the morning haze
The winding funeral arrays
Of Ugo's knights and warrior-men.
Dumbly they watched, and heard often
Their hunting cry borne down the breeze.
Corrado laughed with an ugly ease,
And thus it is he comes with these:
Strong stallions, lances, Genoese—
To take one slim and fragrant girl!
Oh, Ciro mine, our hands shall hurl
These valiant fighters from the wall,
Though we be lads and they be tall.
If God there be above us all,
Then love shall give us strength this day."
Down on the stones they kneeled to pray
That He who brought their lives to be
Should crown their loves with victory.
They rose and flew their heraldry:
An evening star, a saffron sea,
And on the sea, the star below,
The dry-shod pard of Reggio.
No answer made the sable foe,
But round the tower, with footsteps slow,
Paced till his journeys numbered three;
Then from the host one silently,
Thrust on a spear for mockery,
And raised the head of Abramo.
Swift round the tower in mirthless rout
They raced and tossed the words about,
"Bianca of the yellow hair,
With witch-face white as ivory,
Yield to our might that we may bear
Thy body back to Rimini,"
'Twas thus the foemen cried all day
And strove to daunt with fierce display
Of armoured strength her maiden heart,
So that with them she might depart
To shameful death in Rimini.
Bianca, in the vault below,
Crouched at her prayers and did not know
This death, and of her father's shame;
But heard their shouts and heard her name.
Oh, little hands," she softly sighed,
Wherefore should ye be crucified,
What have ye done that men should see
Naught in your grace, save witchery?
Oh, yellow hair, so like the sun,
What is this sin that thou hast done
That men should have such hate of thee?
And sweet grave face of ivory,
So made for love and for desire,
Why should they crave thee for the fire?
Fire of love was meant for thee."
Her sister bent and kissed the hands
Which hung straight down like two white wands,
And hid her lips in a yellow tress,
And kissed the breasts where they met the dress,
And laid her cheek on the weary face
To wipe away each tear's distress,
To cleanse of grief each grievous place.
And this for thee," she said and kissed.
And this for thee," and held each wrist.
And this for thee," and met the lips.
As priest in sacred water dips
His hand at last confessional
To purge each thoroughfare of sense
And bring again lost innocence,
So she made pure and perfect all.
Shrill through their peace shrieked the battle-
call,
Per Jesum Christum! Reggio!
Have at them Death! They fall, they fall!"
And hoarse, hard-breathed, the wall below,
Surged up the wrath of the hungry foe,
Give USs the daughter of Abramo."
Fierce through that day the struggle went,
And blood was spilt and swords were bent.
The sun sank bloody in the West;
The day died bitter and unblest.
The mountains strained against the sky
And angrily, as they would try
To wrench from earth their trampled gowns.
An eagle o'er the upland downs
Hung poised, then beat his wings, as he
Refused to share man's cruelty.
At nightfall, when the host withdrew,
A spearman, whom they counted dead,
In dying strength raised up his head
And sped a poisoned dart, which slew
Ciro, who from the tower's height
Leaned out to watch the evening light.
And thus of four there remained but three.
Celia clomb the winding stair
And thought of how her yellow hair
Could save the three, if she should dare
To yield herself to Rimini.
For I am very like to her,"
She said, "so like that if I were
To feign myself for my sister
By night—this night if I should go,
I think the Count would never know
Till they were safe and I was burned."
The last bend in the stair she turned
And halted as she gained the roof,
And stretched her gaze abroad for proof
Of where her lover might keep guard.
There, where a shafted moonbeam barred
An alcove of gray masonry,
His face shone out, so tranquilly
She thought him sleeping; but his eyes
Were wide, intent on her and wise
Beyond the sight of living men.
Softly she called to him and, when
He answered not, 'twas then she knew. . .
She kissed his forehead, and withdrew
Her tired feet adown the stair.
Bianca kneeled entranced in prayer
And noticed not her passing by,
But counted fast her rosaRy.
Corrado, touched upon the arm,
Reeled as he turned in fierce alarm.
She said, "We change the watch this hour.
I will abide; guard you the tower."
Then, as he set his foot to go,
Kiss me, dear friend, for you must know
We may not ever meet again,
This war has brought us so much pain."
He gazed on her a tender while,
And wondered at the gracious smile
Around her lips. "While we are four,"
He said, "we need not fear this war;
Love is more than life ... far more, far more."
She answered, "Not while we are four."
Ah, have no fear at all," he said;
"She prays for us, see how her head
Is bowed in reverence to God."
He took his sword and clanking trod
The stone-paved vault and winding stair,
Till she could judge him mounting where
Another turn would bring to sight
Her dead love's face in the shafted light
Where the moonbeam washed the turret white.
She bared her feet and crept the floor,
With eager hands wrenched loose the door,
And weeping passed into the night.
The dawn thrust up a wild white face
And stared toward the lonely place,
Where through the vigil, hour by hour,
Corrado guarded well the tower.
It seemed his own reflected face,
So wannish and so wide of eye;
The lips moved and he caught their sigh,
I am thyself and I must die."
Thus did he learn the uttermost,
The live man meeting his own ghost,
And knew that surely he must die.
The sun flashed up; the face was fled.
By night he knew he must be dead.
He leaned beyond the parapet
To scan the rocky pass if yet
Some help might wind around the hill.
The morning air was very still;
He heard the noise of climbing feet,
Of something dragged across the peat,
And saw two knights who, drawing near,
Bore that which clogged his heart with fear—
A white gown, sown with golden threads
Which held the light as do the meads
When dandelions toss their heads
Mid meadow-sweet and field-clover,
Which poppy-leaves drift red over—
A long white gown and smirched with red,
And hands so still, they must be dead.
They laid her on a grass-grown bank
And loosed about her neck the stole,
So that her gold hair round her sank
To frame a burning aureole.-
How now, ye dogs of Rimini,
What crime is this that ye have done
To show to God's new-risen sun,
Which he will tell God secretly?"
And one in shame drew back a pace,
And one raised up his vizored face,
No crime, Sir Knave. God's work, I trow.
Give us the witch, and we will go—
The match to this, from Reggio."
We have no witch, as well ye know."
But, as he spake, he heard with pain
Their scornful laugh.
To make things plain,
The black knight pitched his voice and said
And pointed, "Ho sir, turn your head;
The witch stands by you even now."
The world across his eyes and brow
Streamed scarlet. By his side she stood,
Her eyes bent on a distant wood
Wherein the shadows came and went,
Where horsemen from their stallions leant
All eager for the bugle cry.
We fight in vain," he heard her sigh,
God wills it thus, that I should die."
Nay, courage, sweetheart, while I stand
With strength to grasp a sword in hand
No harm shall come thee nigh nor by."
But she had seen that on the hill
Which made her moan, so that she still
Kept looking and, "Oh, Christ," she sobbed,
What is that thing so palely robed?"
Her shadow slid throughout the space
Until it reached across the face
Of that dead maid, until their lips
Strained to the kiss, their finger-tips
Met at the touch.
The enemy
Shouted, "A witch, yea, verily,
See how her shade feeds on the dead."
Oh, I must go to her," she said:
She sleeps alone, alone, alone."
Her thin hands grazed against the stone,
So blindly did she walk, her throat
Stretched back, her hair far out did float
Like sun-clouds following the sun.
He followed her, passed down the stair,
On through the vault and halted where
She paused to swing the iron door;
Then, out upon the trampled moor.
There, where the dead girl lay, she knelt
And made of her fair arms a belt
Around the corse; there, with her hair,
Wiped clean the face of earth and blood;
There, with her mouth, rebuked the stare
Of those strange eyes; last, made all good
By placing in the hands for rood
That which she pluck't from out the breast.
They watched if God should stand the test.
Ah, see," she cried, "God is awake,
The dagger's bloodstains weep and make
Large tears of red: the metal bleeds!"
If Lord God is awake and heeds,
He must heed quickly." So he said,
For wading up the river-bed,
Half-hid between its tree-topped banks,
He caught the gleam of horses' flanks
And, mingled with the water's flow,
The low-breathed panting of the foe.
Yea, God doth heed, and even now
His finger burns across each brow
His final lettering of doom:
Not one of these beyond Hell's gloom
Shall thrive to win a Heavenly home."
The words fell so remote and meek
She seemed not her own self to speak,
But with her eyes to voice the spell
Which should bring true the oracle.
He caught her hand. "Come quick,"
cried,
Come back, dear heart! See where they ride
With sword in hand across the grass
To thwart us, so we may not pass
Within the tower-gate."
"Too late,"
She said: "We may not win the gate.
Yet now, true friend, though I must burn
At Rimini, time is to learn
One little lesson more of love:
What would you?"
"That I die your knight."
Eh, truly?" So she held above
And touched him with his jagged sword,
And whispered low the crowning word
Which flooded all his face with light.
He said, "I shall not fear to die."
She raised him, smiling wondrously,
Nor I to ride to Rimini,
When you have died my knight."
Twelve lancers circled into sight.
Count Ugo gallopped through the green
And laughed at that which he had seen.
And yet one lover more?" scoffed he,
God's death, you use them royally;
Maids grow less bold in Rimini."
My only lover and my last,"
She said. He scowled and caught her fast,
Twisting his steel-glove in her hair,
Jerked back her head, her eyes on him,
So that her throat and breasts shone bare
Above her corset's jewelled rim.
Too good for fuel," he hissed, "too fair;
Yet those pale cheeks, this yellow hair,
Were not too good to deal out death.
Eh? Hark to what the vixen saith,
'She did not sin, nor meant to kill.'
My son lies dead, say what you will;
Lies dead because of you, you witch,
While leprous things in our town's ditch
Crawl, mate, and spawn beneath God's sky;
Therefore. . .
He raised his hand on high
As he would smite her upturned face.
A sword leapt flashing down through space
And lopt the coward at the joint.
Corrado on his blade's red point
Pricked up the hand, "Tis thus we use
Our dastard knights, whose hands abuse
Our womenfolk in Reggio."
The thunder rumbled long and low.
Oh hark," she cried, "God is awake;
He walks communing for our sake."
Yea, He hath sent me here to take
Your wilful body to the fire,
Till all is marred that men desire.
Slay me that boy," Count Ugo said.
One, who stood near, smote off his head.
She hid her eyes so as not to see,
Shuddered, swung round convulsively,
Stooped as a broken lily dips
To kiss the water—kissed his lips;
Then dumbly rode to Rimini.
And every pace the march along
The hunters sang their hunting song,
" Bianca of the yellow hair,
With witch-face white as ivory,
Thy tender body back we bear
To die the death in Rimini."
Within the lands of rising night
And fields of departing day,
What hours we wandered, you and I,
How fain were we to stay!
Star-flowers were in your maiden hands—
The stars were white with May.
Between moon-set and morning sun
Where mist of the Dreamland lies,
What glory there was yours and mine,
What love was in our eyes!
For Sleep and Love walk hand-in-hand,
And Sleep with morning flies.
Our star-lit land was wholly ours,
No warning of beast or bird
Perturbed the twilight of our peace,
No watchers' tread was heard;
We dwelt alone and loved alone,
Naught save our lips was stirred.
Would that this holiest mystery
Might come again to me!
The radiance of thy moon-lit face,
The eyes of purity—
The wide gray eyes, the beckoning lips,
The silent cloudland sea.