RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY.
201
Oh, a bride of queenly eyes, with a front of constancies,—
Toll slowly!
Oh, a bride of cordial mouth,—where the untired smile of youth
Did light outward its own sighs.
Toll slowly!
Oh, a bride of cordial mouth,—where the untired smile of youth
Did light outward its own sighs.
'Twas a Duke's fair orphan-girl, and her uncle's ward, the Earl
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Who betrothed her twelve years old, for the sake of dowry gold,
To his son Lord Leigh, the churl.
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Who betrothed her twelve years old, for the sake of dowry gold,
To his son Lord Leigh, the churl.
But what time she had made good all her years of womanhood,—
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Unto both those lords of Leigh, spake she out right sovranly,
"My will runneth as my blood."
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Unto both those lords of Leigh, spake she out right sovranly,
"My will runneth as my blood."
"And while this same blood makes red this same right hand's veins," she said,—
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"'Tis my will, as lady free, not to wed a lord of Leigh,
But Sir Guy of Linteged."
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"'Tis my will, as lady free, not to wed a lord of Leigh,
But Sir Guy of Linteged."
The old Earl he smiled smooth, then he sighed for wilful youth,—
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"Good my niece, that hand withal, looketh somewhat soft and small,
For so large a will, in sooth."
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"Good my niece, that hand withal, looketh somewhat soft and small,
For so large a will, in sooth."
She, too, smiled by that same sign,—but her smile was cold and fine,—
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"Little hand clasps muckle gold; or it were not worth the hold
Of thy son, good uncle mine!"
Toll slowly!
"Little hand clasps muckle gold; or it were not worth the hold
Of thy son, good uncle mine!"
