Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LADYE MAUDE, by CORA RANDALL FABBRI


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LADYE MAUDE, by                    
First Line: Adown the dim-lit gallery I stept
Last Line: Happy now, o ladye maude!


ADOWN the dim-lit gallery I stept;
My foot awoke the echoes slumb'ring there,
A sunbeam fell with light subdued and fair
Upon the pictured forms of those who slept,

Gilding the portraits dim upon the wall,
Of stately dames and stalwart warriors bold;
Of virgins fair, with eyes both bright and cold,
And each has answered Death's imperial call.

An ancient portrait, mellowed by the gloom,
A pair of smiling lips, and cold, still face.
Time's heedless hand had hastened to erase
The name below. The rest was in the tomb.

Musing, I paused before one form, amid
The shadows dense and dark. Across the face
A filmy web was stretched; each pictured grace
By dust of gath'ring years was wellnigh hid.

I swept the dust away with reverent touch,
And gazed upon the face in dim surprise.
A little maid demure, with large, sad eyes,
Looked startled back at me, as though o'ermuch

My gaze had ventured on her dreams. The lips
Were wistful, and the face was over-grave
For one so young. The light crept on and gave
A mellowed radiance. Gold the sunbeam slips

From cheeks to lips, from lips to shoulders white,
The pearl-bound throat bore high with stately grace
The small, proud head and young, pure, flower-like face;
Her large-eyed gaze met mine across the light.

And underneath the pictured form was this:
"The Ladye Maude, born 1652,
Died 1674." So young! The rue
Was greater mingled in those years than bliss.

Musing, I gazed through retrospection's veil
Into those wistful eyes, and read therein
The tale I knew so well of what had been.
Oh, little Ladye Maude, so sad a tale!

Here, while the dusk comes on, and in the gloom,
List to the story of those few short years;
List to the mournful tale and let your tears
Drop down, drop down, for her within the tomb:

In the garden fair with Spring,
Where the stately lilies grow,
Where the green-leafed tree-tops swing,
Tipped with blossoms as with snow,
There the Ladye Maude did tread,
Fairer than the roses red,
Brighter than the sun o'erhead.

In her kirtle purely white,
And her hood of silver sheen,
With her face demurely bright,
Oft she stood beneath the green
By the ivied castle gate;
There she used to stand and wait
Where the sunbeams lingered late.

Wait till in the distance far
She could faintly see her love.
With the birth of twilight's star,
With the first gray shades above,
He would come to where she stood
Waiting by the leafy wood,
Perfect in her womanhood.

Then she welcomed her true knight,
Blissful shining in her face;
And the blossoms fell down white,
Carpeting their trysting-place,
Happy in their perfect love;
Only did the nested dove
Break the twilight's still above.

Ladye Maude, O Ladye Maude!
Fell a sadness on thine heart?
Did the shadow of the sword
That would cleft ye two apart
Strike betwixt thy joy and his—
Steal the sweetness from thy bliss,
And the warmness from his kiss?

Ere the blossoms white were dead,
War-red blood within his hand,
Dearth and mis'ry in his tread,
Awful swept throughout the land.
Now her true, brave knight was gone,
And the Ladye Maude each morn
In her turret sat forlorn.

Every night beside the gate
That had been their trysting-spot
Stood the Ladye desolate,
For his gallant steed came not.
To the war her knight was fled,
Fighting now among the dead,
With his sword all bloody red.

Still the weary time sped on;
Each day brought its deeper pain,
Woke her tears and killed her song;
For her knight came not again,
And no tidings stilled the woe
That her heart began to know,
And that grew and still did grow.

Every night beside the gate,
Desolate, alone, she stood.
Patiently she learned to wait;
With her strength of womanhood—
Trembling strength—she bravely fought
'Gainst the pain his absence wrought,
Strove to hold her fears for naught.

But the flame of hope soon died,
And she beat her hands in woe;
"To the battle-field," she cried,
"Where my knight is, I must go!
I will succor bring with speed,
I will find him in his need;
Straightway bring my gallant steed."

Ere the golden morning broke
She had donned her male attire,
And before the sun awoke,
Lighting up the distant spire,
She was speeding on her way,
In the dawn-light, dim and gray,
Where the battle meadow lay.

On and on she swifter sped,
Urging still her panting steed,
And the sky grew rosy red ...
"I will find him in his need.
Jesus," did the Ladye say,
"Guard me, guide me, smooth my way
Straight into the battle fray."

Straight into the battle-field
Where the dead lay, far and wide,
Gallant knights who once did wield
Sword and lances side by side.
Ah! she shuddered at the sight
Of the blood so red and bright,
And she called to her dear knight.

There she saw him, far away,
Fighting as the heroes fought.
And she swept amid the fray
Nearer to the one she sought.
Nearer to her love she came,
Then she called aloud his name:
Loudly, with no thought of shame.

All the warriors round her saw
But a fragile, fearless boy,
Sweeping onward evermore,
With a look of wondrous joy.
Saw they not Death's missiles fly,
Heard they not the ringing cry,
Nor did see her fall and die.

But the stalwart knight behind,
Whom her form had shielded well,
Saw her in a glory shrined
As she turned, and smiled, and fell.
Swift he dropped his bloody sword,
And he cried aloud on God,
For he knew his Ladye Maude.
* * * * * *

Quiet lay the battle-field,
Ghastly underneath the moon;
Every warrior who did wield
His good sword, or late or soon,
Lay upon the meadow dead,
Stiff, upon his last hard bed;
Calm the stars looked down o'erhead.

Pale the moon rose, full and round,
Liquid bright behind the hill;
And it shone upon the ground
Where two dead lay, cold and still;
Wrapt in one long, close embrace,
Heart to heart, and face to face,
Battle-field their trysting-place.

He the stalwart warrior died
For his country — it was well;
But the woman at his side,
For her love's dear sake she fell.
Red between them lies his sword,
Ne'er to part them, now with God,
Happy now, O Ladye Maude!





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