CHILDE MAURICE by ANONYMOUS

Childe Maurice hunted the Silver Wood,
He whistled and he sang:
"I think I see the woman yonder
That I have loved lang."
He called to his little man John,
"You do not see what I see;
For yonder I see the very first woman
That ever loved me."
"Here is a glove, a glove," he says,
"Lined all with fur it is;
Bid her to come to Silver Wood
To speak with Childe Maurice.
"And here is a ring, a ring," he says,
"A ring of the precious stone:
He prays her come to Silver Wood
And ask the leave of none."
"Well do I love your errand, master,
But better I love my life.
Would you have me go to John Steward's castle,
To tryst away his wife?"
"Do not I give you meat?" he says,
"Do not I give you fee?
How dare you stop my errand
When that I bid you flee?"
When the lad came to John Steward's castle,
He ran right through the gate
Until he came to the high, high hall
Where the company sat at meat.
"Here is a glove, my lady," said he,
"Lined all with fur it is;
It bids you to come to Silver Wood
And speak with Childe Maurice.
"And here is a ring, a ring of gold,
Set with the precious stone:
It prays you to come to Silver Wood
And ask the leave of none."
Out then spake the wily nurse,
With the bairn upon her knee:
"If this be come from Childe Maurice
It's dearly welcome to me."
"Thou liest, thou liest, thou wily nurse,
So loud as I hear thee lie!
I brought it to John Steward's lady,
And I trow thou be not she."
Then up and rose him John Steward,
And an angry man was he:
"Did I think there was a lord in the world
My lady loved but me!"
He dressed himself in his lady's gown,
Her mantle and her hood;
But a little brown sword hung down by his knee,
And he rode to Silver Wood.
Childe Maurice sat in Silver Wood,
He whistled and he sang,
"I think I see the woman coming
That I have loved so lang."
But then stood up Childe Maurice
His mother to help from horse:
"O alas, alas!" says Childe Maurice,
"My mother was never so gross!"
"No wonder, no wonder," John Steward he said,
"My lady loved thee well,
For the fairest part of my body
Is blacker than thy heel."
John Steward took the little brown sword
That hung low down by his knee;
He has cut the head off Childe Maurice
And the body put on a tree.
And when he came to his lady --
Looked over the castle-wall --
He threw the head into her lap,
Saying, "Lady, take the ball!"
Says, "Dost thou know Childe Maurice' head,
When that thou dost it see?
Now lap it soft, and kiss it oft,
For thou loved'st him better than me."
But when she looked on Childe Maurice' head
She ne'er spake words but three:
"I never bare no child but one,
And you have slain him, trulye."
"I got him in my mother's bower
With mickle sin and shame;
I brought him up in the good greenwood
Under the shower and rain."
And she has taken her Childe Maurice
And kissed him, mouth and chin:
"O better I loved my Childe Maurice
Than all my royal kin!"
"Woe be to thee!" John Steward he said,
And a woe, woe man was he;
"For if you had told me he was your son
He had never been slain by me."
Says, "Wicked be my merry men all,
I gave meat, drink and cloth!
But could they not have holden me
When I was in all that wrath?"

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...