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Home  »  The English Poets  »  True Love’s Dirge

Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. IV. The Nineteenth Century: Wordsworth to Rossetti

William Motherwell (1797–1835)

True Love’s Dirge

SOME love is light and fleets away,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

Some love is deep and scorns decay,

Ah, well-a-day! in vain.

Of loyal love I sing this lay,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

’Tis of a knight and lady gay,

Ah, well-a-day! bright twain.

He loved her,—heart loved ne’er so well,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

She was a cold and proud damsel,

Ah, well-a-day! and vain.

He loved her,—oh, he loved her long,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

But she for love gave bitter wrong,

Ah, well-a-day! Disdain!

It is not meet for knight like me,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

Though scorned, love’s recreant to be,

Ah, well-a-day! Refrain.

That brave knight buckled on his brand,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

And fast he sought a foreign strand,

Ah, well-a-day! in pain.

He wandered wide by land and sea,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

A mirror of bright constancy,

Ah, well-a-day! in vain.

He would not chide, he would not blame,

Heigho! the wind and rain,

But at each shrine he breathed her name,

Ah, well-a-day! Amen!

He would not carp, he would not sing,

Heigho! the wind and rain,

That broke his heart with love-longing.

Ah, well-a-day! poor brain.

He scorned to weep, he scorned to sigh,

Heigho! the wind and rain,

But like a true knight he could die,—

Ah, well-a-day! life ’s vain.

The banner which that brave knight bore,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

Had scrolled on it, ‘Faith Evermore.’

Ah, well-a-day! again.

That banner led the Christian van,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

Against Seljuck and Turcoman.

Ah, well-a-day! bright train.

The fight was o’er, the day was done,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

But lacking was that loyal one,—

Ah, well-a-day! sad pain.

They found him on the battle-field,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

With broken sword and cloven shield,

Ah, well-a-day! in twain.

They found him pillowed on the dead,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

The blood-soaked sod his bridal bed,

Ah, well-a-day! the Slain.

And his pale brow and paler cheek,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

The white moonshine did fall so meek,

Ah! well-a-day! sad strain.

They lifted up the True and Brave,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

And bore him to his lone cold grave,

Ah! well-a-day! in pain.

They buried him on that far strand,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

His face turned towards his love’s own land,

Ah, well-a-day! how vain.

The wearied heart was laid at rest,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

The dream of her he liked best,

Ah, well-a-day! again.

They nothing said, but many a tear,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

Rained down on that knight’s lowly bier,

Ah, well-a-day! amain.

They nothing said, but many a sigh,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

Told how they wished like him to die,

Ah, well-a-day! sans stain.

With solemn mass and orison,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

They reared to him a cross of stone,

Ah, well-a-day! in pain.

And on it graved with daggers bright,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

‘Here lies a true and gentle knight’

Ah, well-a-day! Amen!