THE BEGGAR-MAN by DORA SIGERSON SHORTER

A BEGGAR sat by the King's highway,
@3O, but the road was long!@1
His hair was black and his beard was grey.
@3Hark to the linnet's song!@1
He sat him down by the churchyard gate,
He beat his breast and bemoaned his fate.
There passed the King in his royal state.
@3Gay ride the merry throng.@1

There rode the King with his golden crown,
@3A hawk in the far blue sky.@1
His haughty Queen in her silken gown.
@3O, bleats a lamb close by?@1
Then came full slow on her palfrey white
The Princess, pale as the March moonlight,
And woeful it was to watch her plight.
@3Hark to the lost lamb's cry!@1

Then passed the Prince of a far-off land,
@3What can you buy for gold?@1
Who came for his claim on the maid's small hand,
@3A lamb that has lost its fold.@1
His eyes were chill as the snow-set thorn,
And he rode all grim on his marriage morn,
He scowled at the maid who his suit did scorn.
@3O, but the wind blows cold!@1

By went the page in his coat of brown,
@3Gay was the song he sung.@1
He knocked the beggar's old oak staff down;
@3O, but the world was young!@1
His laugh was rude as he danced away,
He mocked and jeered in his foolish play,
But never a word did the old man say.
@3Hark, have the church bells rung?@1

Next came, all chattering, knight and dame,
@3See how the rooks perch low!@1
"To marry a maiden so were shame,"
@3Twelve dark birds all a-row.@1
They blamed the Prince for his cruelty,
To wed with a maid all sad as she,
Whose heart he knew his could never be.
@3O, for a good cross-bow!@1

Now when they came to the great church-door,
@3Sing hey for the wedding-ring!@1
The maid she fell to a passion sore;
@3Hark how the choir-boys sing!@1
"This deed," she said, "I do scorn and hate,
And would it save me from my sad fate,
I'd wed the beggar beside the gate."
@3Ah, love is a grievous thing!@1

Now when this wish the proud Prince did hear,
@3The priest to the altar goes,@1
And on her cheek saw the bitter tear,
@3Pale is the frost-kissed rose,@1
He made a low and a scornful bow,
"Of love I too have had all enow,
This rival suit I shall glad allow."
@3O, what a grey wind blows!@1

Then spake the King like the pale-cold dead,
@3An ill day is full long,@1
"So you with the beggar-man would wed?"
@3Still is the linnet's song.@1

He drew her up to the old man's side,
He said, "Arise, and behold your bride.
She, for your sake, has a Prince denied."
@3Loud are the laughing throng.@1

"Then," said the King, "come and claim your bride,"
"@3My false love bid me wait,@1"
And she shall sing on the bleak hillside,
"@3Ah, doleful is my fate!@1"
He chid his Queen when she dared to speak;
Who kissed the maid on her death-cold cheek,
And held her close lest her heart should break.
"@3My love will come too late.@1"

The King strode on with a fearsome frown,
@3O, for the book and bell!@1
His weeping Queen in her silken gown.
@3Long is the tale to tell.@1
The Princess wan as the March moonlight,
Who cried alone, all a doleful sight,
Of slighted hope and of broken plight.
@3A slow love is not well.@1

And the gay young page all full of glee,
@3Sweet was his tuneful cry.@1
For in this coil not a tear found he.
@3Alack that youth must die!@1
Each knight with his lady curious came,
To speak of the King with a muttered blame,
"To wed these two were a woeful shame."
@3See how the black rooks fly!@1

Then the priest did bless the marriage-ring,
"@3Long shall I live to rue,@1"
And the wedding-bells all high did swing.
"@3Go, for I love not you!@1"
But the bride she bowed her golden head,
And she sighed, "O would that I were dead,
Since my false love I may never wed!"
@3Ah, that her love were true!@1

The tears flowed quick from her drooping eyes,
@3O, but her cheeks were pale!@1
And she gave her gentle breast to sighs.
@3Low did she weep and wail.@1
"When my haughty sire your suit denied
You swore to make me still your bride,
All brave you stood and his rage defied."
@3Alack that trust should fail!@1

But the little page he mocked and jeered,
@3Gay was the song he sung,@1
And he plucked the old man by the beard,
@3O, but his heart was young!@1
And he pulled right hard in youthful play
Till he plucked the beggar's beard away,
And there stood Shaun of Dun Clonleigh.
@3Full loud his laughter rung.@1

And there stood Shaun, all so good to see,
@3Now let the joy-bells chime.@1
Of Irish manhood full six-foot-three.
@3Love brings the summer clime.@1
And when this pother the King did know,
He out from the church did furious go,
And he bade his smiling Queen also.
@3Spring is the mating time.@1

And by them quick went the Prince so proud.
@3The hawk is flying by.@1
His face was like the grey thunder-cloud.
@3Hark to the lost lamb's cry!@1
He flung himself on his chafing steed,
And rode away at his utmost speed,
And no good wish did he make, or deed.
@3The shepherd's arm is nigh.@1

Then slow did follow the fair young bride,
@3Strew roses for her feet!@1
Her own true lover was by her side,
@3And O, but youth is sweet!@1
And the little page with laughter gay,
From whose smooth chin with a great display
There hung the beggar-man's beard of grey.
@3Woe that time is fleet!@1

But loitering last came knight and dame,
@3So ends this holiday.@1
To whisper oft their grief and shame,
@3Much did they find to say,@1
How she bade a Prince come forth to woo,
And then his fond heart broke in two;
This was no thing for a maid to do,
@3All on the King's highway!@1

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