Poems (McDonald)/A Sigh for the Past

by Mary Noel McDonald

A SIGH FOR THE PAST.

"Alas! for the sordid propensities of modern days, when everything is coined into gold, and
this once holiday planet of ours, is turned into a mere working-day world."
Washington Irving.

Oh! for the days of chivalry,
 For a knight of heroic deed,
With a glittering helmet on his head,
 And a fiery, prancing steed.
I'm tired of beaux with beaver hats,
 And coats of black or blue—
Oh! for the days of old romance,
 And their mail-clad heroes too.

It must have been a pleasant thing
 To dwell in a castle high,
With a draw-bridge o'er a deep dark moat,
 And turrets against the sky;
To have a warder on the wall,
 And a banner waving free,
And a lover who came from the Holy-land,
 And wooed upon bended knee.

I wish I had lived in those glorious days,
 Some centuries ago,
With good broad lands and plenty of gold,
 And a will of my own, I trow;
A tapestried chamber with secret doors,
 And galleries lone and long;
Such as I've read of a thousand times,
 In volumes of tale and song.

I'd have braided the locks of my raven hair,
 And woven each shining tress
With the richest gems of the earth and sea,
 To add to my loveliness.
And over embroidery rich and rare,
 Have bent through the livelong day,
And a little maiden at my feet,
 With a lute and a pleasant lay.

And I would have graced the tournament
 Where knights were in the list,
Or swept along with a merry train,
 And a falcon on my wrist:
I'd have had a milk-white palfrey too,
 And a page in green and gold;
And tales of love should have lulled mine ear,
 By a wandering harper told.

I'm weary of all the things I see,
 Of steeples and chimnies high;
Of houses standing in long straight rows,
 With carriages rolling by;
I hate a modern residence,
 Fine sofas and Brusseled floors,
And a chandelier from the ceiling hung,
 Or a mansion with folding doors.

And I must dress quite a-la-mode,
 From bonnet to silken hose,
And follow the fashions of foolish France,
 For a reason nobody knows:
I have to walk with outrageous men,
 Who I'm sure I could never love,
With monstrous whiskers, and little canes,
 And hand in a hosskin glove.

Oh! for the golden days gone by,
 The days of old romance,
When there were knights in armor clad,
 With shield, and spear, and lance;
When to noble dames and ladies fair,
 They bent the willing knee:—
Would I had lived in those glorious times,
 For they were the days for me!