William Morris(1834–1896)
The Haystack in the Floods
Had she come all the way for this,
To part at last without a kiss
Yea, had she borne the dirt and rain
That her own eyes might see him slain
Beside the haystack in the floods
Along the dripping leafless woods,
The stirrup touching either shoe,
She rode astride as troopers do;
With kirtle 0 kilted to her knee,long skirt
To which the mud splashed wretchedly;
And the wet dripped from every tree
Upon her head and heavy hair,
And on her eyelids broad and fair;
The tears and rain ran down her face.
By fits and starts they rode apace,
And very often was his place
Far off from her; he had to ride
Ahead, to see what might betide
When the roads crossed; and sometimes, when
There rose a murmuring from his men,
Had to turn back with promises;
Ah me! she had but little ease;
And often for pure doubt and dread
She sobbed, made giddy in the head
By the swift riding; while, for cold,
Her slender fingers scarce could hold
The wet reins; yea, and scarcely, too,
She felt the foot within her shoe
Against the stirrup: all for this,
To part at last withotit a kiss
Beside the haystack in the floods
For when they neared that old soaked hay,
They saw across the only way
That Judas, Godmar, and the three
Red running lions dismally
Grinned from his pennon, under which,banner
In one straight line along the ditch,
They counted thirty heads.
So then,
While Robert turned round to his men,
She saw at once the wretched end,
And, stooping down, tried hard to rend
Her coif the wrong way from her head,
And hid her eyes; while Robert said:
"Nay, love, 'tis scarcely two to one,
At Poitiers where we made them run
So fast—why, sweet my love, good cheer.
The Gascon frontier is so near,
Nought after this.
But, "O, she said,
"My God! my God! I have to tread
The long way back without you; then
The court at Paris; those six men;2
The gratings of the Chatelet;
The swift Seine3 on some rainy day
Like this, and people standing by,
And laughing, while my weak hands try
To recollect how strong men swim,4
All this, or else a life with him,
For which I should be damned at last,
Would God that this next hour were past!
He answered not, but cried his cry,
"St. George for Marny! cheerily;
And laid his hand upon her rein.
Alas! no man of all his train 0following
Gave back that c h e e r y cry again;
A n d , w h i l e for rage his t h u m b beat fast
U p o n his sword-hilts, s o m e o n e cast
A b o u t his n e c k a kerchief long,
A n d b o u n d him.
T h e n they w e n t a l o n g
To Godmar; w h o said: "Now, J e h a n e ,
Your lover's life is on the w a n e
So fast, that, if this very h o u r
You yield n o t as my paramour,
He will n o t see the rain leave o f f —
Nay, k e e p your tongue from gibe and s c o f f ,
Sir Robert, or I slay you now.
S h e laid her h a n d u p o n her brow,
T h e n gazed u p o n the palm, as t h o u g h
S h e t h o u g h t her forehead bled, a n d — " N o , "
S h e said, a n d turned her h e a d away,
As there were nothing else to say,
A n d everything were settled: red
G r e w Godmar's face from c h i n to head:
"Jehane, on yonder hill there stands
My castle, guarding well my lands:
W h a t h i n d e r s me from taking you,
A n d d o i n g that I list to do
To your fair willful body, while
Your knight lies dead
A wicked smile
W r i n k l e d her face, her lips grew thin,
A l o n g w a y o u t s h e thrust her chin:
"You k n o w that I sho u l d strangle y o u
W h i l e y o u were sleeping; or bite t h r o u g h
Your throat, by God's help—ah! s h e said,
"Lord J e s u s , pity your poor maid!
For in s u c h w i s e they h e m me in,
I c a n n o t c h o o s e b u t sin and sin,
W h a t e v e r h a p p e n s : yet I think
T h e y c o u l d n o t m a k e me eat or drink,
A n d so s h o u l d I just reach my rest.
"Nay, if you do not my behest,
O J e h a n e ! t h o u g h I love you well,
Said G o d m a r , "would I fail to tell
All that I know. "Foul lies, s h e said.
"Eh lies my J e h a n e ? by God's head,
At Paris folks w o u l d d e e m t h e m true!
Do y o u k n o w , J e h a n e , they cry for you,
'Jehane the brown! J e h a n e the brown!
Give us J e h a n e to burn or drown!'—
E h — g a g m e R o b e r t ! — s w e e t m y friend,
This were i n d e e d a p i t e o u s e n d
For t h o s e l o n g f i n g e r s , a n d l o n g f e e t ,
And long neck, and smooth shoulders sweet;
An end that few men would forget
T h a t s a w i t — s o , a n h o u r yet:
C o n s i d e r , J e h a n e , w h i c h to take
Of life or death!
So, s c a r c e a w a k e ,
D i s m o u n t i n g , did s h e leave t h a t p l a c e ,
A n d totter s o m e yards: w i t h h e r f a c e
T u r n e d u p w a r d to t h e sky s h e lay,
H e r h e a d on a w e t h e a p of hay,
A n d fell asleep: a n d w h i l e s h e slept,
A n d did n o t d r e a m , t h e m i n u t e s crept
R o u n d t o t h e t w e l v e again; b u t s h e ,
B e i n g w a k e d at last, s i g h e d quietly,
A n d strangely childlike c a m e , a n d said:
"I will not. Straightway Godmar's head,
As though it hung on strong wires, turned
M o s t sharply r o u n d , a n d his f a c e b u r n e d .
For R o b e r t — b o t h his e y e s w e r e dry,
He could not weep, but gloomily
H e s e e m e d t o w a t c h t h e rain; yea, too,
H i s lips w e r e f i r m ; h e tried o n c e m o r e
T o t o u c h h e r lips; s h e r e a c h e d out, sore
A n d vain desire s o tortured t h e m ,
T h e p o o r gray lips, a n d n o w t h e h e m
O f his s l e e v e b r u s h e d t h e m .
W i t h a start
U p G o d m a r rose, thrust t h e m apart;
F r o m Robert's throat h e l o o s e d t h e b a n d s
O f silk a n d mail; w i t h e m p t y h a n d s
Held out, she stood and gazed, and saw,
T h e l o n g bright b l a d e w i t h o u t a flaw
G l i d e o u t f r o m G o d m a r ' s s h e a t h , his h a n d
I n Robert's hair; s h e s a w h i m b e n d
B a c k Robert's h e a d ; s h e s a w h i m s e n d
T h e thin s t e e l d o w n ; t h e b l o w told well,
Right b a c k w a r d t h e k n i g h t R o b e r t fell,
A n d m o a n e d a s d o g s do, b e i n g half dead,
U n w i t t i n g , as I d e e m : so t h e n
G o d m a r t u r n e d g r i n n i n g t o his m e n ,
W h o ran, s o m e five or six, a n d b e a t
H i s h e a d t o p i e c e s a t their f e e t .
T h e n G o d m a r t u r n e d again, a n d said:
"So, J e h a n e , t h e first fitte5 is read!
T a k e n o t e , m y lady, t h a t y o u r w a y
Lies b a c k w a r d to t h e C h a t e l e t ! "
S h e s h o o k h e r h e a d a n d g a z e d a w h i l e
At h e r c o l d h a n d s w i t h a r u e f u l s m i l e ,
A s t h o u g h this t h i n g h a d m a d e h e r m a d .
T h i s w a s t h e parting t h a t t h e y h a d
Beside the haystack in the floods