King Baldwin
In gay procession southward rode a bride
From Antioch, sister to its baby prince,
By proxy to an unseen husband wed,
The far-off King of Hungary, to whom
She hastened with a joyous ignorance,
A queen and spouse already bound for ever.
To meet her with due honour, our young King
(Antioch's liege lord) a half-day's journey rode,
Dreaming, it may be, of the bride his own
High fancy sought, but still despaired to find.
The sultry heat still pressed with leaden weight
On all things; the baked earth cracked as for breath,
When from below I heard the tramp of steeds
With a wild Syrian music; then, just then,
A blackness fell upon the skies, and, bright
Against the storm-cloud, with gay banners shone
The advancing troop, and in their midst the bride
A picture on the purple shadow traced
In youthful sunbeams, and my heart turned cold;
For with his eyes I saw her, saw his fate,
His dream made real, but too late, too late.
They met—he greeted, her young silver voice
Rang sweet and clear in answer; one short moment
And then the storm-cloud burst!
And that white world of lightning sheeted us
All round with horror; women shrieked, and steed
From Antioch, sister to its baby prince,
By proxy to an unseen husband wed,
The far-off King of Hungary, to whom
She hastened with a joyous ignorance,
A queen and spouse already bound for ever.
To meet her with due honour, our young King
(Antioch's liege lord) a half-day's journey rode,
Dreaming, it may be, of the bride his own
High fancy sought, but still despaired to find.
The sultry heat still pressed with leaden weight
On all things; the baked earth cracked as for breath,
When from below I heard the tramp of steeds
With a wild Syrian music; then, just then,
A blackness fell upon the skies, and, bright
Against the storm-cloud, with gay banners shone
The advancing troop, and in their midst the bride
A picture on the purple shadow traced
In youthful sunbeams, and my heart turned cold;
For with his eyes I saw her, saw his fate,
His dream made real, but too late, too late.
They met—he greeted, her young silver voice
Rang sweet and clear in answer; one short moment
And then the storm-cloud burst!
And that white world of lightning sheeted us
All round with horror; women shrieked, and steed
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