Poems (Dodd)/The Minstrel's Prize

THE MINSTREL'S PRIZE.

In a wide hall a maiden stood,
A maiden fair to see,
And round the dais steps there came
A goodly company.

Both lords and knights of courage tried,
And lineage high, I ween,
Who brought the homage valor pays
To beauty's chosen queen.

Their mail-clad forms passed proudly up
The polished oaken floor,
And streaming plume and dazzling crest
Bent low the maid before.

Though fair the lady's damsel train,
Which graced that ancient hall,
They were but stars, and she the sun
That far outshone them all.

A veil of Mechlin's richest lace,
Fell to her garment's hem;
Of violet velvet was her robe,
Of pearls her diadem.

Her train, with silver stars bespread,
Vied with the evening blue;
And then her little foot stole out
In high-heeled, satin shoe.

Over her pure and ivory brow,
When her fair face was bowed,
A shower of silken tresses fell,
Like a bright golden cloud.

Her soft eyes, with a liquid light,
From their long fringe beamed through
Like the blue hyacinth when bathed
In drops of summer dew.

Light was the tint upon her cheek,
As morning's faintest flush,
Which often deepened to the rose
With pleasure's sudden blush.

The charms of such a matchless maid
Could any knight withstand?
Her dowry was that castle proud,
And many roods of land.

The noble wooed with courtly words;
The minstrel strung his rhymes;
Much trouble had she with her beaus,
That maid of other times.

When for one only mid the train,
Her love should be confest,
What bliss for him, the chosen knight,
What woe for all the rest.

How many said their dearest joy
Was in her smiles to dwell;
How many vowed to drown themselves,
'T were vain for me to tell.

Some vowed to drain the poison bowl;
Some spoke of poisoned darts;
Ah me! it must be sad to break
So very many hearts.

Strange, that a maiden's charms should work
With such a potent power!
Was it the beauty of her face?
Or value of her dower?

Beneath the beaming sky of June,
Unto that castle gray,
Why came those proud and valiant knights
In all their bright array?

The lovely lady of their dreams,
That summer day had named,
On which to hear the suit of each,
And have her choice proclaimed.

First spoke a noble earl, and low
He bowed him to the ground,
While whispers and approving smiles
The damsel train went round.

"Bright queen of beauty! leagues of land,
And wealth untold is mine;
Upon thy robes shall diamonds rare,
And costly jewels shine.

"There is no wish thy heart can ask,
But it shall granted be,
And not a queen in all the land,
Shall e'er be served like thee."

"Now turn away, thou generous earl,
This hand can ne'er be thine;
And deem not either wealth or state,
May purchase love of mine."

Then came a knight of noble mien,
Glittering in silver mail,
And fear of unrequited love,
Turned his proud visage pale.

Over his gleaming helmet's crest,
A heron plume drooped low,
Shading with long and graceful sweep
His high and haughty brow.

"I, too, have wealth and lands, fair flower,
To humbly offer thee,
Joined with a name not all unknown
In deeds of chivalry.

"My joy should be, to see thee blest;
To wait upon thy will;
And ever guard thee with my life,
From danger and from ill."

"I am not worthy, noble knight,
To bless thy lofty love;
The eagle woos a bird of pride,
And mates not with the dove."

Next came a dainty, smiling youth,
To bend the ready knee;
No gleaming sword, or glittering crest,
Or armor proved had he.

But coat and doublet sown with pearls
The silver flowers among,
And velvet mantle gracefully
Over his shoulder flung.

Before the lady low he bent
With reverent air, and then
Shook his "ambrosial curls," and bowed
To her fair damsel train.

Fain would he have the maiden think
His heart was sad the while;
But in his deep blue, roughish eye,
There lurked a sunny smile.

"Thou peerless one! what has a prince
To offer, worthy thee?
Thou wouldst despise the countless gems
That shine beneath the sea.

"O, give me love for love! in bliss
Should glide each fleeting day,
And not a care might come to thee,
Which I could drive away.

"Thy home shall be a palace proud,
Where pleasure reigns supreme;
Thy heart the blessed shrine of joy;
Thy life a gorgeous dream."

"Fair prince, thy curls of sunny brown,
And merry eyes of blue,
Will win a princess for thy bride,
Whose years like thine are few.

"Go to thy father's brilliant court,
Where wit and beauty shine,
And waste thy gallant speech no more,
On ears so cold as mine."

Stand back! stand back, ye youthful knights!
What suitor comes this way?
With eagle eye, and bushy beard,
And locks of iron gray!

Of the brave soldiers of the cross
A valiant leader he,
And Paynim hosts before his might
All wild with terror flee.

Full fifty years has father Time
His hand upon him laid:
He has won honor and renown,
But will he win the maid?

"Thy thoughtful words and modest mien
So free from pride and art;
Thy beaming eyes and smiles have won
The soldier's iron heart.

"No lays of love in beauty's bower
By me have e'er been sung:
The tracks of time are on my brow,
But still my heart is young.

"My castile towers above the Thames,
With lawn and gardens wide;
To be an Eden it but needs
A bright and bonny bride.

"I would not suffer e'en the wind
Round thee to roughly blow,
And my right arm should shield thee well
From every mortal foe."

"Thanks, my good lord, for wishes kind;
In answer let me say,
This fact is proven to my mind,
December weds not May."

Still plumes are dancing in the hall;
There yet are full a score
Who wait to press their suit, and wish
The "fiery trial" o'er.

But while they pause, a manly step
Advances up the line,
And on that form no woven mail,
Or jeweled garments shine.

But far more modestly arrayed
In minstrel garb of green;
And by his side a shining lyre
Of silver sound is seen.

Dark, chestnut curls luxuriant wave
That polished brow above,
And his deep hazel eyes beam forth
The very soul of love.

And melting are the music tones
Those chiseled lips that part;
Such tones as cannot fail to reach
A youthful maiden's heart.

His is a gift more highly prized
Than wealth or rank, I ween,
The light of song a glory sheds
Around the minstrel's mien.

Love's liquid words, the lyre's deep notes,
Live not in lay of mine;
They filled the air, they wrapped the soul
In melody divine.

But cold appear the burning words
That time has breathed upon,
When the deep pathos passion gave
And the lyre-notes are gone.

"Thou morning-star, that first revealed
The dawn of love to me;
From the low earth I too have dared
To lift my eyes to thee.

"I drink thy beams, and wildly wish
To reach thy place of rest,
To fold thee fondly in mine arms,
And wear thee on my breast.

"Thou shouldst not miss the homage paid
The votaress of the sun;
The worship of a thousand hearts
Should centre all in one.

"The humblest of thy humble slaves,
No sacrifice I bring;
No gleaming gold, or flashing gems,
Round me their radiance fling.

"I offer but a heart that's steeped
In sorrow and in song,
Which on thy beauty, from afar,
Has gazed and worshiped long.

"To lordly tower and palace proud,
Dispense not all thy beams;
Glide through the lattice of my cot,
And gild my waking dreams.

"Deign from thy high ethereal home
Near my lone path to move;
O, cheer me with thy brilliant rays,
Thou morning-star of love!"

The lovely lady's face is still,
And passionless no more;
Why mounts the blush? why droops the eye
Of one so calm before?

The minstrel marked her tell-tale cheek
With those bright blushes dyed;
Forward he stepped, then silent stood
Enraptured by her side.

She stirred not, but she saw him there,
Through lashes drooping low;
She almost felt his balmy breath
Upon her burning brow.

A moment and she slowly turned
Those melting orbs of blue,
On him whose homage filled her heart
With hope and joy so new.

He saw the glance; he clasped her hand,
And whispered, "love, be mine!"
She hid her face within her veil,
And answered, "only thine!"

Then knight and noble cheered the bard,
And blessed his peerless bride;
And pride and valor turned away,
And left him by her side.

Around him gazed the son of song,
With bright, exulting eyes—
The lyre had vanquished crest and plume,
And love had won the prize.