Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BEHIND THE ARRAS; A CHRISTMAS MASQUE, by HARRY SINCLAIR LEWIS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

BEHIND THE ARRAS; A CHRISTMAS MASQUE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: What star has given thee its care
Last Line: Inquiringly.)
Alternate Author Name(s): Lewis, Sinclair
Subject(s): Christmas; Yale University; Nativity, The


(Yvrel, a damosel, and Noel, a page, speak in this wise seated in a tapestry-bung corner of the
King's great Hall.)

YVREL

WHAT star has given thee its care,
My Noel, and has made thee fair?

NOEL

Hark! With antic and with mow
They drag the Yule block in; and now
The pompous steward tells them how.

What star has watched since I was born?
'Tis Mercury: That Christmas morn
There came a warlock to declare,
"Vain Mercury shall make him fair,
And he quicksilver shall be e'er."
He shook his cane, -- one of those staves
Of yew cut from adult'rers' graves, --
And added, "The red cock shall sing
Twice seven Christmas nights; then he
This babe, the heart that most will cling
To him, will break by vanity."

The rascal lied; I am to you
As leal as angels, and as true.
(In the ball sounds the peasants' Yule Log song. Noel, careless of Yvrel's troubled face,
listens to the song.)

CHORUS OF PEASANTS

The Yule log, the Yule log,
It be where fays do dwell.
From out their house pell mell
They flicker in a noisy crowd.
I heard one stammering aloud,
"By Mary," quotha, "Mistress Spark,
Our good log house is cracking: hark!
The flame folk beckon through our wall,
Come, Mistress Spark, away. They call."
(A page enters with tankards. The peasants sing.)

Here comes the ale
With a flagon for me,
And another for thee,
To the good King; hail!
Wench Marian,
With the beggar man,
And a wand'ring mime beside,
All giggle and wink
With a sinkful o' drink,
For 'tis the Christmas-tide!
(The peasants exeunt. Yvrel speaks.)

YVREL

Dear Noel, I believe you true.
You've sworn on Christmas eve to do
Aught I might bid; to break the spell
Of Barbarossa; or, through Hell,
Clean to the Nadir ride, and bring
Me up the trident of its king.

Last night the Princess promised me
As a novice to the nunnery;
Which, once a year, 'mid Christmas sport,
Is given a maiden of the court.
Let's on thy Father's wild chateau!

NOEL

Oh sweet Yvrel, I love you so
That, saving thee, mayhap I'll go
To-night and, --
(There breaks in a chorus from masquers assembling in the great ball.)

CHORUS

Hurl not the mace
Nor couch the lance.
In stately grace
Thy ladies dance.
Hence, -- rude steel case,
Hence, -- war horse prance,
Each lovely face
Now doth advance.
Thy gaze we hold
By sinuous fold
Of silks and lace.
We'll thee entrance,
Come, lest we scold,
Be gay, be bold.
Come! Come! Take place.
Come! Join the dance.
(Noel continues, excitedly peering forth at the gathering group.)

NOEL

We'll flee, perhaps, upon the morrow.
Take cheer, like me; nor trouble borrow.
These carols, wassail, boisterous fun,
Take all to-night; without ME none
Of all the sports were rightly done.

YVREL

The nun's damp veil fills me with dread.
I hate it; I were better dead.
Oh sweet, to-morrow is too late.
For, by thy sunny dear brown head,
These nuns will seize me if we wait.

NOEL

It is a pity. Well, -- I pray
That you'll be abbess there some day.
Were honor or thy life in need,
I'd save thee, by death-daring deed.
But peaceful is the nunnery,
And pleasant there thy life will be.
I love you, but --

YVREL

You love me not!
Oh God, how piteous is my lot!

NOEL

Now, now! Weep not, poor little maid.
Upon the long wolf-haunted way
I fear you would be sore afraid.
And weary, weary, never gay
Is life on Father's wild bleak moors.
Wouldst have ME a dull boor of boors?
When here at court --
(He looks eagerly around the hall, and continues),
See, only see!
There's Corisant of Telivit,
His doublet hath a villainous fit!
Saw'st how my new hose fitted me?
Come, dry these tears. Like me, scorn woe.
List, there the hautboys sound, I go.
Chuck, one last kiss; for I loved thee.
The dance begins; dear heart, I go.
(As he departs the dancer's song begins.)

CHORUS

Who loveth not smacking
And Burgundy wine
Anon may go packing,
He ne'er shall be mine.
My love, --
(They continue the song; whilst Yvrel, seeing Noel begin the dance with a fair maid, sinks down
on a stool, with frightened sobbing. A nun enters the hall, and looks about it
inquiringly.)





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