Landon in The New Monthly 1826/Sir Guilbert
SIR GUILBERT.[1]
Why is thy bark upon the sea—
Thy sail spread for the wind?
That vessel may go on her way,
But thou must stay behind.
I've seen thee stand knee-deep in blood,
In battle by my side;
And both thy faith and loyalty
Are like thy good sword tried.
Look round! is not this a fair land?
Are not its daughters fair?
Are not its castles stately ones?
Choose thou and have thy share.—
"No! Conqueror, no!" Sir Guilbert said,
"My portion is not here;
The air bears on 't the widow's curse,
The ground the orphan's tear.
I join'd thy banner as a knight,
And not as a brigand:
My soldier's duty done, I will
Away to mine own land.
I will not have your English ground,
Nor yet your English dame;
I came with but my sword and steed,
I will go as I came.
A little tower in Normandie
Was where I had my birth;
I will return to it,—no blood
Cries from my father's hearth.
Sir King, thou art as brave a knight
As e'er stemm'd battle wave;
But thy heart's temper'd as thy brand.
Thou art as stern as brave.
For me, I am of softer mould,
I cannot bear the moan
That haunts me here;—whate'er my home.
At least it is mine own.
The breeze is rising on the sea,
I see the white sails swell;
My bark is waiting but for me,—
Sir King, farewell! farewell!" L. E. L.
- ↑ Founded on the answer given by a Norman knight to William the Conqueror—Thierry's History of the Conquest, vol. i. p. 322.