r. f. murray-his poems with a memoir-第15节
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To build this minster high。
Bury the robber where ye may；
But here he shall not lie。'
The holy brethren bid him cease；
But he will not be stilled；
And soon the house of God's own peace
With noise and strife is filled。
And some cry shame on Asselin；
Such tumult to excite；
Some say； it was Duke William's sin；
And Asselin does right。
But he round whom their quarrels keep；
Lies still and takes no heed。
No strife can mar a dead man's sleep；
And this is rest indeed。
Now Asselin at length is won
The land's full price to take；
And let the burial rites go on；
And so a peace they make。
When Harold； king of Englishmen；
Was killed in Senlac fight；
Duke William would not yield him then
A Christian grave or rite。
Because he fought for keeping free
His kingdom and his throne；
No Christian rite nor grave had he
In land that was his own。
And just it is； this Duke unkind；
Now he has come to die；
In plundered land should hardly find
Sufficient space to lie。
THE DEATH OF WILLIAM RUFUS
The Red King's gone a…hunting； in the woods his father made
For the tall red deer to wander through the thicket and the glade；
The King and Walter Tyrrel； Prince Henry and the rest
Are all gone out upon the sport the Red King loves the best。
Last night； when they were feasting in the royal banquet…hall；
De Breteuil told a dream he had； that evil would befall
If the King should go to…morrow to the hunting of the deer；
And while he spoke； the fiery face grew well…nigh pale to hear。
He drank until the fire came back； and all his heart was brave；
Then bade them keep such woman's tales to tell an English slave；
For he would hunt to…morrow； though a thousand dreams foretold
All the sorrow and the mischief De Breteuil's brain could hold。
So the Red King's gone a…hunting； for all that they could do；
And an arrow in the greenwood made De Breteuil's dream come true。
They said ‘twas Walter Tyrrel； and so it may have been；
But there's many walk the forest when the leaves are thick and
green。
There's many walk the forest； who would gladly see the sport；
When the King goes out a…hunting with the nobles of his court；
And when the nobles scatter； and the King is left alone；
There are thickets where an English slave might string his bow
unknown。
The forest laws are cruel； and the time is hard as steel
To English slaves； trod down and bruised beneath the Norman heel。
Like worms they writhe； but by…and…by the Norman heel may learn
There are worms that carry poison； and that are not slow to turn。
The lords came back； by one and two； from straying far apart；
And they found the Red King lying with an arrow in his heart。
Who should have done the deed； but him by whom it first was seen？
So they said ‘twas Walter Tyrrel； and so it may have been。
They cried upon Prince Henry； the brother of the King；
And he came up the greenwood； and rode into the ring。
He looked upon his brother's face； and then he turned away；
And galloped off to Winchester； where all the treasure lay。
‘God strike me；' cried De Breteuil； ‘but brothers' blood is thin！
And why should ours be thicker that are neither kith nor kin？'
They spurred their horses in the flank； and swiftly thence they
passed；
But Walter Tyrrel lingered and forsook his liege the last。
They say it was enchantment； that fixed him to the scene；
To look upon his traitor's work； and so it may have been。
But presently he got to horse； and took the seaward way；
And all alone within the glade； in state the Red King lay。
Then a creaking cart came slowly； which a charcoal…burner drove。
He found the dead man lying； a ghastly treasure…trove；
He raised the corpse for charity； and on his wagon laid；
And so the Red King drove in state from out the forest glade。
His hair was like a yellow flame about the bloated face；
The blood had stained his tunic from the fatal arrow…place。
Not good to look upon was he； in life； nor yet when dead。
The driver of the cart drove on； and never turned his head。
When next the nobles throng at night the royal banquet…hall；
Another King will rule the feast； the drinking and the brawl；
While Walter Tyrrel walks alone upon the Norman shore；
And the Red King in the forest will chase the deer no more。
AFTER WATERLOO
On the field of Waterloo we made Napoleon rue
That ever out of Elba he decided for to come；
For we finished him that day； and he had to run away；
And yield himself to Maitland on the Billy…ruffium。
‘Twas a stubborn fight； no doubt； and the fortune wheeled about；
And the brave Mossoos kept coming most uncomfortable near；
And says Wellington the hero； as his hopes went down to zero；
‘I wish to God that Blooker or the night was only here！'
But Blooker came at length； and we broke Napoleon's strength；
And the flower of his armythat's the old Imperial Guard …
They made a final sally； but they found they could not rally；
And at last they broke and fled； after fighting bitter hard。
Now Napoleon he had thought； when a British ship he sought；
And gave himself uncalled…for； in a manner； you might say；
He'd be treated like a king with the best of every thing；
And maybe have a palace for to live in every day。
He was treated very well； as became a noble swell；
But we couldn't leave him loose； not in Europe anywhere；
For we knew he would be making some gigantic undertaking；
While the trustful British lion was reposing in his lair。
We tried him once before near the European shore；
Having planted him in Elba； where he promised to remain；
But when he saw his chance； why； he bolted off to France；
And he made a lot of troublebut it wouldn't do again。
Says the Prince to him； ‘You know； far away you'll have to go；
To a pleasant little island off the coast of Africay；
Where they tell me that the view of the ocean deep and blue；
Is remarkable extensive； and it's there you'll have to stay。'
So Napoleon wiped his eye； and he wished the Prince good…bye；
And being stony…broke； made the best of it he could；
And they kept him snugly pensioned； where his Royal Highness
mentioned；
And Napoleon Boneyparty is provided for for good。
Now of that I don't complain； but I ask and ask in vain；
Why me； a British soldier； as has lost a useful arm
Through fighting of the foe； when the trumpets ceased to blow；
Should be forced to feed the pigs on a little Surrey farm；
While him as fought with us； and created such a fuss；
And in the whole of Europe did a mighty deal of harm；
Should be kept upon a rock； like a precious fighting cock；
And be found in beer and baccy； which would suit me to a charm？
DEATH AT THE WINDOW
This morning； while we sat in talk
Of spring and apple…bloom；
Lo！ Death stood in the garden walk；
And peered into the room。
Your back was turned； you did not see
The shadow that he made。
He bent his head and looked at me；
It made my soul afraid。
The words I had begun to speak
Fell broken in the air。
You saw the pallor of my cheek；
And turnedbut none was there。
He came as sudden as a thought；
And so departed too。
What made him leave his task unwrought？
It was the sight of you。
Though Death but seldom turns aside
From those he means to take；
He would not yet our hearts divide；
For love and pity's sake。
MAKE…BELIEVES
When I was young and well and glad；
I used to play at being sad；
Now youth and health are fled away；
At being glad I sometimes play。
A COINCIDENCE
Every critic in the town
Runs the minor poet down；
Every criticdon't you know it？
Is himself a minor poet。
ART'S DISCIPLINE
Long since I came into the school of Art；
A child in works； but not a child in heart。
Slowly I learn； by her instruction mild；
To be in works a man； in heart a child。
THE TRUE LIBERAL
The truest Liberal is he
Who sees the man in each degree；
Who merit in a churl can prize；
And baseness in an earl despise；
Yet censures baseness in a churl；
And dares find merit in an earl。
A LATE GOOD NIGHT
My lamp is out； my task is done；
And up the stair with lingering feet
I climb。 The staircase clock strikes one。
Good night； my love！ good night； my sweet！
My solitary room I gain。
A single star makes incomplete
The blackness of the window pane。
Good night； my love！ good night； my sweet！
Dim and more dim its sparkle grows；
And ere my head the pillows meet；
My lids are fain themselves to close。
Good night； my love！ good night； my sweet！
My lips no other words can say；
But still they murmur and repeat
To you； who slumber far away；
Good night； my love！ good night； my sweet！
AN EXILE'S SONG
My soul is like
