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Translated by Edgar Taylor
THE BEAUTIFUL spring delights me well, | |
| When flowers and leaves are growing; | |
| And it pleases my heart to hear the swell | |
| Of the birds’ sweet chorus flowing | |
| In the echoing wood; | 5 |
| And I love to see, all scattered around, | |
| Pavilions, tents, on the martial ground; | |
| And my spirit finds it good | |
| To see, on the level plains beyond, | |
| Gay knights and steeds caparisoned. | 10 |
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| It pleases me when the lancers bold | |
| Set men and armies flying; | |
| And it pleases me, too, to hear around | |
| The voice of the soldiers crying; | |
| And joy is mine | 15 |
| When the castles strong, besieged, shake, | |
| And walls uprooted totter and crack, | |
| And I see the foemen join, | |
| On the moated shore all compassed round | |
| With the palisade and guarded mound. | 20 |
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| Lances, and swords, and stained helms, | |
| And shields, dismantled and broken, | |
| On the verge of the bloody battle-scene, | |
| The field of wrath betoken; | |
| And the vassals are there, | 25 |
| And there fly the steeds of the dying and dead; | |
| And where the mingled strife is spread, | |
| The noblest warrior’s care | |
| Is to cleave the foeman’s limbs and head,— | |
| The conqueror less of the living than dead. | 30 |
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| I tell you that nothing my soul can cheer, | |
| Or banqueting or reposing, | |
| Like the onset-cry of “Charge them!” rung | |
| From each side, as in battle closing, | |
| Where the horses neigh, | 35 |
| And the call to “Aid!” is echoing loud; | |
| And there on the earth the lowly and proud | |
| In the fosse together lie; | |
| And yonder is piled the mangled heap | |
| Of the brave that scaled the trench’s steep. | 40 |
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| Barons, your castles in safety place, | |
| Your cities and villages too, | |
| Before ye haste to the battle-scene! | |
| And, Papiol, quickly go, | |
| And tell the Lord of “Oc and No!” | 45 |
| That peace already too long hath been! | |
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