Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition
Ballade de Marguerite (Author: Oscar Wilde)
- I am weary of lying within the chase
When the knights are meeting in market-place.
- Nay, go not thou to the red-roofed town
Lest the hooves of the war-horse tread thee down.
- But I would not go where the Squires ride,
I would only walk by my Lady's side.
- Alack! and alack! thou art overbold,
A Forester's son may not eat off gold.
- Will she love me the less that my Father is seen,
Each Martinmas day in a doublet green?
- Perchance she is sewing at tapestrie,
Spindle and loom are not meet for thee.
- Ah, if she is working the arras bright
I might ravel the threads by the fire-light.
- Perchance she is hunting of the deer,
How could you follow o'er hill and mere?
- Ah, if she is riding with the court,
I might run beside her and wind the morte.
- Perchance she is kneeling in St. Denys,
(On her soul may our Lady have gramercy!)
- Ah, if she is praying in lone chapelle,
I might swing the censer and ring the bell.
- Come in my son, for you look sae pale,
The father shall fill thee a stoup of ale.
- But who are these knights in bright array?
Is it a pageant the rich folks play?
- 'Tis the King of England from over sea,
Who has come unto visit our fair countrie.
- But why does the curfew toll sae low
And why do the mourners walk a-row?
- O 'tis Hugh of Amiens my sister's son
Who is lying stark, for his day is done.
- Nay, nay, for I see white lilies clear,
It is no strong man who lies on the bier.
- O 't is old Dame Jeannette that kept the hall,
I knew she would die at the autumn fall.
- Dame Jeannette had not that gold-brown hair,
Old Jeannette was not a maiden fair.
- O 't is none of our kith and none of our kin,
(Her soul may our Lady assoil from sin!)
- But I hear the boy's voice chaunting sweet,
Elle est morte, la Marguerite.
- Come in my son and lie on the bed,
And let the dead folk bury their dead.
- O mother, you know I loved her true:
O mother, hath one grave room for two?