gers intertwined: ay, feel my sword!
I wrought it long ago, with golden hair
Flowing about the hilts, because a word,
Sung by a minstrel old, had set me dreaming
Of a sweet bow'd down face with yellow hair;
Betwixt green leaves I used to see it gleaming,
A half smile on the lips, though lines of care
Had sunk the cheeks, and made the great eyes hollow;
What other work in all the world had I,
But through all turns of fate that face to follow?
But wars and business kept me there to die.
O child, I should have slain my brother, too,
My brother, Love, lain moaning in the grass,
Had I not ridden out to look for you,
When I had watch'd the gilded courtiers pass
From the golden hall. But it is strange your name
Is not the same the minstrel sung of yore;
You call'd it Rapunzel, 'tis not the name.
See, love, the stems shine through the open door.
_Morning in the woods._
RAPUNZEL.
O love! me and my unknown name you have well won;
The witch's name was Rapunzel: eh! not so sweet?
No! but is this real grass, love, that I tread upon?
What call they these blue flowers that lean across my feet?
THE PRINCE.
Dip down your dear face in the dewy grass, O love!
And ever let the sweet slim harebells, tenderly hung,
Kiss both your parted lips; and I will hang above,
And try to sing that song the dreamy harper sung.
_He sings._
'Twixt the sunlight and the shade
Float up memories of my maid:
God, remember Guendolen!
Gold or gems she did not wear,
But her yellow rippled hair,
Like a veil, hid Guendolen!
'Twixt the sunlight and the shade,
My rough hands so strangely made,
Folded Golden Guendolen.
Hands used to grip the sword-hilt hard,
Framed her face, while on the sward
Tears fell down from Guendolen.
Guendolen now speaks no word,
Hands fold round about the sword:
Now no more of Guendolen.
Only 'twixt the light and shade
Floating memories of my maid
Make me pray for Guendolen.
GUENDOLEN.
I kiss thee, new-found name! but I will never go:
Your hands need never grip the hammer'd sword again,
|