Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/117

He drew her up to the old man's side,
He said, “Arise, and behold your bride.
She, for your sake, has a Prince denied.”
Loud are the laughing throng.

“Then,” said the King, “come and claim your bride,”
“My false love bid me wait,”
And she shall sing on the bleak hillside,
“Ah, doleful is my fate!”
He chid his Queen when she dared to speak;
Who kissed the maid on her death-cold cheek.
And held her close lest her heart should break.
“My love will come too late.”

The King strode on with a fearsome frown,
O, for the book and bell!
His weeping Queen in her silken gown.
Long is the tale to tell.
The Princess wan as the March moonlight,
Who cried alone, all a doleful sight,
Of slighted hope and of broken plight.
A slow love is not well.

And the gay young page all full of glee,
Sweet was his tuneful cry.
For in this coil not a tear found he.
Alack that youth must die!
Each knight with his lady curious came.
To speak of the King witii a muttered blame,
“To wed these two were a woeful shame.”
See how the black rooks fly!

Then the priest did bless the marriage-ring,
“Long shall I live to rue,”
And the wedding-bells all high did swing.
“Go, for I love not you!”