Robert Buchanan - Joyous Garde lyrics

I. 'Mid fragrant flowers and fairest The scorpion oft will bide, And ripest fruits and rarest The vengeful hornet hide. O'er Sodom's lake in beauty The tempting clusters hung; But plucked, like soot that baleful fruit It mocked the loathing tongue! The summer cloud rains fastest When rainbows brightest shine; The deadliest draught is couched and quaffed In cups of choicest wine: And lawless love, with ecstacy, Though snatched in bed or bower, Hath in its honey poison, A scorpion in its flower! ***************************** II. So thought, I ween, Sir Launcelot, So thought Queen Guinevere, When Arthur camped round Garde Joyeuse To seek his wrong's repair, And banner broad and banderol Streamed thick o'er the array Of knight, and squire, and yeoman, Beseiged it night and day. The walls are stout -- the garners Are full -- and week by week, In vain by force or famine To win that tower they seek: But day by day Sir Launcelot With gibe and jeer they taunt -- And traitor hail, and bordeller, And hoot him recreant! III. "Now Christ me save, Sir Uncle! This may no more be borne; But let us out, and yonder rout, We'll soon abate their scorn! Like fox that skulks in cover It shames me here to shield," Cried fierce Sir Bors -- "To-morrow We'll ride us forth a'field -- So redd ye well that crow so loud, Look to your battle-gear, For we will stir your slumbers With prick of lance and spear!" ***************************** IV. And fair it rose that morrow, Brought in a doleful day; On braird and bent the blobs besprent Like drops of diamond lay: Like darkling sea, the mountains Heaved in their misty screen, And Tweed sang soft his morning song Beneath his shroud unseen. But when that cloudy curtain rose, Brave sight it was to see On plain apost, Sir Arthur's host Drawn out in battles three: And on their hinges shrieking The heavy gates are swung, And forth thereout, with clang and shout, Three gallant armies flung! V. Their banners wapped and wavered O'er streams of rushing steel; And hoarsely brayed the trumpet's blast Their onset's deadly peal. Rose shout and cheer, and laughter wild, And shriek and frenzy-curse, The glint of glaive, the dint of mace, The thud of falling horse. Are helm and hauberk ringing To swords are smiting keen; Are battered casque, and cloven shield, And showers of arrows sheen: -- Now backward, and now forward, Now swells, now sinks the fray; Like forest heaves and hollows Beneath the tempest's sway. Sir Blamor, and Sir Lionel, Sir Bors, and Palamede, That day in battle bore the bell For deeds of doughtyhede: For Arthur still, and fierce Gawayne, Nor heed nor hinder not, But keep their swords undinted For only Launcelot. ***************************** VI. And they have pressed him hot and sore, All round the battle-field; But ever he their feud forbore, And kept him with his shield. Then upspake Lavayne angrily, Sir Launcelot, think thee well, Thy nephews twain, are nigh to slain, Sir Bors and Lionel, And yet thy most thou sparest still, Nor slayest them that slay; But skulk'st like hunted badger, Or stand'st like boar at bay. To see thee braved and baited thus, Puts thine to evil cheer; The foe but mocks thy mercy, And counts it all of fear." ***************************** VII. He led him where on sward aswoon Sir Bors lay bleeding fast; All pale for rage grew Launcelot, And tears for anger brast -- He cheered his steed -- he set his teeth -- He raised his battle-cry -- And where the d**h-drift fierceliest drove, Flashed there his sword on high! With shout and cheer hath followed him His gallant chivalry; -- Lavayne, Safyr, and Bellangere, And Urre of Hungary. Fought yeoman stout, fought burgher bold, Each man as he were wood; Ere even-song, Sir Launcelot Rode fetlock-deep in blood!