Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, VENUS AND THE CHRISTIAN KNIGHT, by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

VENUS AND THE CHRISTIAN KNIGHT, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Why are thine eyes so red, sir knight?
Last Line: Poor sinners to despair.
Alternate Author Name(s): Houghton, 1st Baron; Houghton, Lord
Subject(s): Legends


"WHY are thine eyes so red, Sir Knight,
And why thy cheek so pale?
Thou tossest to and fro all night,
Like a ship without a sail."

The Knight rose up, and answered quick:
"Too long in lust I lie,
And now my heart is pleasure-sick;
I must go hence, or die.

"I must go hence, and strive to win,
By penitential tears,
God's pardon for the shame and sin
Of these luxurious years.

"No man his life can rightly keep
Apart from toil and pain;
I would give all these joys, to weep
My youth's sweet tears again!"

"I will not let thee go, Sir Knight;
But I will make thee new
Untold devices of delight,
That shall thy soul imbue;

"And thou, these sickly thoughts defy,
Undo these vain alarms;
What God can give thee more than I, --
More Heaven than in mine arms?"

"Venus! I fear thy wanton heart,
I fear thy glittering eyes;
I shrink and tremble, lest thou art
A demon in disguise."

With high disdain the Ladie strove,
Then uttered, sad and low,
"Oh! hard return for so much love!
Ungrateful mortal! go."

The Knight, with none to check or meet,
Thus left the marble dome;
And soon his weary, wounded, feet
Were near the gates of Rome.

There, where imperial Tiber flows,
Pope Urban rode along;
And "Kyrie Eleison," rose
From all the thickening throng.

"Thou that hast power to stay God's wrath,
And darkest souls to shrive,
Stop, holy Father! on thy path,
And save a soul alive.

"For I, a noble Christian Knight,
Have served, for many a year,
In dalliance of impure delight,
A demon, as I fear.

"If Venus sooth a demon be,
As thou hast skill to tell,
God's face how shall I ever see,
How shun the deep of hell?"

-- "Too well that fiend, and all her power,
Most hapless man! I know;
If thou hast been her paramour,
No grace can I bestow.

"I could the demon's self assoil,
As well as pardon thee;
Thy body hath been her willing spoil,
Thy soul must be her fee!

"For sooner shall this peeled staff
Put out both leaf and bloom,
Than God shall strike thy sentence off
His dreadful book of doom!"

The Knight his feeble knee upraised,
Past weeping through the crowd;
And some in silent pity gazed,
And some with horror loud.

"Then shall I never, never, see
Thy countenance divine,
Jesus! that died in vain for me, --
Sweet Mary, mother! thine?"

Now forth this child of woe had gone
Full fourteen days, when, lo!
The staff the Pope laid hand upon
Began to bud and blow:

Green leaves, and flowers of perfect white,
The very growth of heaven; --
Sure witness to that wretched Knight
Of all his sins forgiven!

Oh! far and wide, o'er earth and tide,
Swift messengers are sped,
To hail the sinner justified,
The late devoted head.

In vain -- in vain! Straight back again
He bent his hopeless way, --
And Venus shall her Knight retain,
Until God's judgment-day.

Mysterious end of good remorse!
Strong lesson to beware,
Ye priests of mercy! how ye force
Poor sinners to despair.





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