Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems

<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</SPAN></span></p> <h2>THE LITTLE TOWER</h2> <div class="cpoem25"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="id0"><span class="dcap">U</span>P and away through the drifting rain!<br/></span> <span class="id0">Let us ride to the Little Tower again,<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Up and away from the council board!<br/></span> <span class="i0">Do on the hauberk, gird on the sword.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">The king is blind with gnashing his teeth,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Change gilded scabbard to leather sheath:<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Though our arms are wet with the slanting rain,<br/></span> <span class="i0">This is joy to ride to my love again:<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">I laugh in his face when he bids me yield;<br/></span> <span class="i0">Who knows one field from the other field,<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">For the grey rain driveth all astray?<br/></span> <span class="i0">Which way through the floods, good carle, I pray<br/></span><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</SPAN></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">The left side yet! the left side yet!<br/></span> <span class="i0">Till your hand strikes on the bridge parapet.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Yea so: the causeway holdeth good<br/></span> <span class="i0">Under the water? Hard as wood,<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Right away to the uplands; speed, good knight!<br/></span> <span class="i0">Seven hours yet before the light.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Shake the wet off on the upland road;<br/></span> <span class="i0">My tabard has grown a heavy load.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">What matter? up and down hill after hill;<br/></span> <span class="i0">Dead grey night for five hours still.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">The hill-road droppeth lower again,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Lower, down to the poplar plain.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">No furlong farther for us to-night,<br/></span> <span class="i0">The Little Tower draweth in sight;<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">They are ringing the bells, and the torches glare,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Therefore the roofs of wet slate stare.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">There she stands, and her yellow hair slantingly<br/></span> <span class="i0">Drifts the same way that the rain goes by.<br/></span><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</SPAN></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Who will be faithful to us to-day,<br/></span> <span class="i0">With little but hard glaive-strokes for pay?<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">The grim king fumes at the council-board:<br/></span> <span class="i0">Three more days, and then the sword;<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Three more days, and my sword through his head;<br/></span> <span class="i0">And above his white brows, pale and dead,<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">A paper crown on the top of the spire;<br/></span> <span class="i0">And for her the stake and the witches' fire.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Therefore though it be long ere day,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Take axe and pick and spade, I pray.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Break the dams down all over the plain:<br/></span> <span class="i0">God send us three more days such rain!<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Block all the upland roads with trees;<br/></span> <span class="i0">The Little Tower with no great ease<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Is won, I warrant; bid them bring<br/></span> <span class="i0">Much sheep and oxen, everything<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">The spits are wont to turn with; wine<br/></span> <span class="i0">And wheaten bread, that we may dine<br/></span><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</SPAN></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">In plenty each day of the siege.<br/></span> <span class="i0">Good friends, ye know me no hard liege;<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">My lady is right fair, see ye!<br/></span> <span class="i0">Pray God to keep you frank and free.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Love Isabeau, keep goodly cheer;<br/></span> <span class="i0">The Little Tower will stand well here<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Many a year when we are dead,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And over it our green and red,<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Barred with the Lady's golden head,<br/></span> <span class="i0">From mere old age when we are dead.<br/></span></div> </div></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />