Part 4 (2/2)

Her true love shot a mighty hart Among the standing rye, When on him leapt that keeper old From the fern where he did lie.

The forest laws were sharp and stern, The forest blood was keen; They lashed together for life and death Beneath the hollies green.

The metal good and the walnut wood Did soon in flinders flee; They tost the orts to south and north, And grappled knee to knee.

They wrestled up, they wrestled down, They wrestled still and sore; Beneath their feet the myrtle sweet Was stamped to mud and gore.

Ah, cold pale moon, thou cruel pale moon, That starest with never a frown On all the grim and the ghastly things That are wrought in thorpe and town:

And yet, cold pale moon, thou cruel pale moon, That night hadst never the grace To lighten two dying Christian men To see one another's face.

They wrestled up, they wrestled down, They wrestled sore and still, The fiend who blinds the eyes of men That night he had his will.

Like stags full spent, among the bent They dropped a while to rest; When the young man drove his saying knife Deep in the old man's breast.

The old man drove his gunstock down Upon the young man's head; And side by side, by the water brown, Those yeomen twain lay dead.

They dug three graves in Lyndhurst yard; They dug them side by side; Two yeomen lie there, and a maiden fair A widow and never a bride.

In the New Forest, 1847.

THE RED KING

The King was drinking in Malwood Hall, There came in a monk before them all: He thrust by squire, he thrust by knight, Stood over against the dais aright; And, 'The word of the Lord, thou cruel Red King, The word of the Lord to thee I bring.

A grimly sweven I dreamt yestreen; I saw thee lie under the hollins green, And through thine heart an arrow keen; And out of thy body a smoke did rise, Which smirched the suns.h.i.+ne out of the skies: So if thou G.o.d's anointed be I rede thee unto thy soul thou see.

For mitre and pall thou hast y-sold, False knight to Christ, for gain and gold; And for this thy forest were digged down all, Steading and hamlet and churches tall; And Christes poor were ousten forth, To beg their bread from south to north.

So tarry at home, and fast and pray, Lest fiends hunt thee in the judgment-day.'

The monk he vanished where he stood; King William sterte up wroth and wood; Quod he, 'Fools' wits will jump together; The Hamps.h.i.+re ale and the thunder weather Have turned the brains for us both, I think; And monks are curst when they fall to drink.

A lothly sweven I dreamt last night, How there hoved anigh me a griesly knight, Did smite me down to the pit of h.e.l.l; I shrieked and woke, so fast I fell.

There's Tyrrel as sour as I, perdie, So he of you all shall hunt with me; A grimly brace for a hart to see.'

The Red King down from Malwood came; His heart with wine was all aflame, His eyne were shotten, red as blood, He rated and swore, wherever he rode.

They roused a hart, that grimly brace, A hart of ten, a hart of grease, Fled over against the kinges place.

The sun it blinded the kinges ee, A fathom behind his hocks shot he: 'Shoot thou,' quod he, 'in the fiendes name, To lose such a quarry were seven years' shame.'

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