With purple streamers bright with flowers of gold,
To the small village paced of which I told.
To the next well, meanwhile, Griselda went,
Drew water, and sped home with this intent,
To do her household business out of hand,
And with her fellows at the door to stand,
To see the bridal pomp and courtly throng,
The noble bride and bridegroom pass along,
For it was said Lord Walter and his bride
Would through that village to the palace ride.

But as she reached the door, the Marquis came,
And softly spake, addressing her by name;
Her pitcher in the stall the village maid

Set down, and humbly knelt with visage staid:
"Where is your father?" "Here within, my Lord;"
She said and rose and called him with the word.
Her father came: the ruler of the land
Then took his poorest subject by the hand.
"I dare be sworn, Janicola," quoth he,
"Thou art a true and faithful liege to me;
My heart's long-cherished purpose I reveal,
Which I no longer may nor can conceal.
Thy daughter will I take to be my wife,
To love and cherish till our end of life.
Now tell me, wilt thou to this purpose draw,
To take and have me for thy son-in-law ?"
He reddened, and abashed and quaking all,
Could scarce reply: "My will to thine is thrall;
Just as thou wilt let all this matter be,

For with thy liking, Lord, must mine agree."
This, for they talked apart, none present heard,
But Walter said, our council needs a third,
And, calling both, into the cottage passed,
Next went the father, fair Griselda last.
She saw with wonder and with pale-white face
So great a lord in such an humble place.
Nor he to tell his purpose long delayed,
But gently spake to that ingenuous maid :-

"I come, Griselda, with the full intent
To take thee for my wife, if thou consent;
And if thou wilt, thy father's leave is found,
But answer first the questions I propound.
Wilt thou be meek with an obedient heart,
Whether I make thee laugh or inly smart:
And wilt thou never murmur night nor day,
And never to my yea' return a 'nay;
And never show, by word or any sign,
That thou hast any will opposed to mine?
Agree to this, and be to-day my bride.'
Trembling 'twixt fear and wonder, she replied:-
"My lord, of this high honour I profess
To feel and know my own unworthiness;

I swear to be a meek obedient wife;

Thy will shall be my only rule of life;

Nor word, nor look, nor frown, nor any sign
Shall ever show my mind opposed to thine;
And I will honour thee with all my heart,
And evermore obey, till death us part."

Then to the door he led Griselda fair,

And showed her to the throng with courteous air,
And bade them honour her, their prince's mate,
His joy of life, the partner of his state.
Then the court-ladies, though it hurt their pride,
Went to her chamber with the blushing bride;
They did his bidding, but were nothing glad
To touch the clothes wherein the maid was clad ;
They disarrayed her of her homely gear,
And in her bridal robes arrayed her there.

They combed her glossy hair, and twined with pearls
The shining top-knot of her braided curls;
Fastened with precious clasps her broidered gown,
And on her head they set a sparkling crown;
And round her virgin waist they clasped a zone,
That with bright gems of every colour shone;
And so much did these riches rare transmew her,
That when the people saw they scarcely knew her.
She like no peasant looked, but seemed to all
A princess born, sweetly majestical.

The ceremonial rite is duly done;
The jovial priest hath said the benison;
The Marquis leads the pomp, and by his side,
Set on a snow-white palfrey, rides the bride;
Amid the popular shouts, the glittering throng,
To Walter's palace slowly moves along.
The courtiers feast, and dance, and sing and play,
And the glad peasants have a holiday.

The happy months run fleetly; who could guess
That lady born in peasant ruggedness?
All who beheld her 'mid her court would swear
'Twas her right place, her graces native there.
And in her daily life such good was seen,
As is most rare in Marchioness or Queen.
Faithful, and kind of heart, of temper sweet,
Gracious in manners, eloquent, discreet,
Beloved of all that ever saw her face,

Her fame for goodness ran from place to place.
Through all her lord's domain her influence mild
Amended wrong and discords reconciled;
Rancour she turned to peace; her wisdom bland
Gave to her counsel air of just command;
Peacemaker best, and most persuasive friend,
No feud survived when once she bade it end;
And all the lowly folk in their distress
Found succour from the noble Marchioness.
Thus she bestowed heart's ease on rich and poor,
And ne'er was lady loved and honoured more.
With her Lord Walter lived in best content,
His easy days in peace and honour spent ;
And for he saw, which princes rarely did,
Great virtues in a mean condition hid,

With just and frank applause the public voice
Proclaimed his wisdom, and approved his choice.

To crown the marriage bed, the months complete, An infant daughter, delicate and sweet,

Lay on the bosom of Griselda mild

All would have welcomed more a mankind child;
But prince and people hailed her fruit with joy,
The mother of a girl may bear a boy.
How tyrannous is man!-how strangely bent
To try the ground-work of his own content!

How apt to doubt, or without doubt to prove
By cruel sleights a meek and patient love!
Some think such conduct shows a subtle wit,
But ill such tricks a husband's rule befit,
To try his consort when no need appears,
And make her heart-sick from incessant fears.
Thus Walter had assayed his wife before,
And now resolved to tempt her more and more.

With a stern trouble settled in his face
He came one night to tempt his lady's grace,
When with her lovely babe she lay in bed,
And thus with show of bitter grief he said :-
"Methinks, Griselda, thou dost not forget
The low estate in which thy life was set,
Nor the mean garb that on our wedding-day
Was by my order changed for rich array,
Nor in the splendour of thy husband's hall
Thy father's cottage with its neighbouring stall.
Dear, sweet, and in thy wifely conduct wise,
Would that my gentles viewed thee with mine eyes!
They pay lip-honour, but they think it scorn
To be the subjects of one meanly born;

And since our daughter's birth they love thee less,
And their ill thoughts more freely they express.
Therefore, to please them, for I wish, dear wife,
In peace and quietness to pass my life,
Thy little daughter, dear, must be dismist,
Not as I would, but as my gentles list.
God knows, to do this, I am very loath,
But show thy patience and maintain thine oath,
Whatever I should will or do or say,
Without demur to honour and obey."
All this she heard and patiently received,
In seeming not a whit disturbed nor grieved.
"My noble lord, I from my heart agree
My daughter, and myself belong to thee;
Thine own 'tis in thy power to save or spill,
Then do with us according to thy will.
So help me God, as I shall not repine
At any wish, word, act, command of thine;
Thyself alone, for nothing else I choose,
Is all I wish to have or fear to lose.
From this fixt point my wishes never range;
My heart cannot revolt, nor my affection change."
Though secret pleasure in her words he took,
Sombre his visage seemed and stern his look,
And sullenly he left her, like one bent
To do his purpose, that would not relent.

There was a sergeant of his body guard,

Of stalwart frame, with features harsh and hard:
But like a dog was faithful to his lord,
And did his bidding to the very word;

He never stopt to ask if right or wrong,

Nor for what others thought he cared a song.

His lord's command his conscience was and law;

His faith was partly love and partly awe.
This trusty subject, by the Marquis sent,
To the most meek Griselda's chamber went,
And said, "Madame! what mighty lords decree,
Though it may pain, thy wisdom knows must be,

1887.]

Griselda.

And servitors their masters must obey,
And so will I-there is no more to say-
This child must go with me." He roughly said,
And snatched the babe that from her bosom fed,
While, like a lamb, she bore the cruel sight,
Nor any outery made, nor screamed outright,
When the fierce sergeant clutched her baby dear,
And even made as he would slay it there.

Suspicious was the man in word, act, look,
The time suspicious; could the mother brook
To see it carried off, and not grow wild
From pity for her own and only child?

She screamed not, fainted not, nor blamed the groom,
For 'twas her lord enjoined the cruel doom;

But for a little time with meekness prayed

To have and kiss her little baby maid;

Then took, and laid, and lulled it on her knee,

And softly blessed, and kissed it tenderly.

And thus she spake: "Farewell, my darling child!
My pretty little babe, my undefiled!

Signed with the cross, of Him blest ever be,
Who died for us upon the cursed tree.

My baby dear! whose life this night shall end,
I to his tender love thy soul commend."
Had in a hireling's house this come to pass,
Well might a mother have cried out "alas!"
But poor Griselda hid her secret dread,
And to the cruel-seeming sergeant said,
In constancy and saintly patience staid,
"Now take again the little baby maid.
Whatever 'tis, obey my lord's behest,
But if his will permits, grant this request;
In some safe place this little body lay"
Secure from rending beasts and birds of prey."
The man replied not, but with sullen look
He went his way and her sweet baby took.

But notwithstanding this astounding blow
She did no sign of grief or passion show ;
No change in her the Marquis e'er could find,
For she was steadfast evermore and kind,
As cheerful, humble, notable as ever,
And dutiful in purpose, act, endeavour,
The loving wife that she was wont to be,
And of her daughter not a word spake she.

Five years passed by before Griselda mild
Brought to her wilful lord another child;
But then she bore a lively bouncing boy,
His sire's delight and all the country's joy.
Two happy years she saw him grow and thrive,
And hoped her lord would let his man-child live;
But he the while was fully bent to try,

As he had tried before, her constancy;

For of such proofs no measure husbands know
When wives in harness patiently will go.
But he, what time his boy was two years' old,
Thus to the mother her new trial told :—
"Wife, ever since our little son was born,
My people's rage is more, and more their scorn,
Because I wedded one of low degree,

Whose brat, they say, is lineal heir to me:
'Twere shame to see, they 'mong themselves declare,
A peasant's grandson in a prince's chair:

And much I fear that breaking through restraint
Of custom they will bring me their complaint.
Wherefore, since quiet I have ever loved,
I'd have the boy, as was the girl, removed.
But be thou patient since it must be done,
And be content to lose thy little son."
Tho' inly shocked, astonied, terrified,

With meek composure his sweet wife replied:-
"I never have, and will not now repine
At thy decrees: the government is thine.
What tho' my daughter and my son they kill,
It is enough for me, it is thy will.

I murmur not altho' of children twain

I've had no part, but sickness and sharp pain.
Thou art my lord, thy pleasure do as fit;
Sway is thy province, mine is to submit.
I left behind what freedom e'er I knew,
When with thy clothes I took thy service too.
Firm to the proof whate'er my love shall try,
For thee I live, for thee would gladly die.
Thy love beyond compare is more than life
To me thy ever fond and faithful wife."
So spake the patient dame: but when he saw
Her clear and constant mood without a flaw,
Proof against all the trials he contrived,
He wondered much from whence it was derived,
And mused awhile: then looking stern he went,
But in his heart there was a sweet content.

That officer, who took her other joy,
Came by his lord's command to take the boy.
Whate'er she felt, she showed not her distress,
But did her baby kiss and fondly bless;
And humbly prayed the man to dig a grave
From ravenous fowls and rending beasts to save
His tender limbs: with unrelenting eye
He took the child away, nor made reply.

No trace of grief was in Griselda seen, Calm her demeanour and unchanged her mien. The wilful Marquis wondered more and more How she so well such cruel trials bore. He knew it was not want of natural love, For she was tender as the brooding dove; And well he deemed that no finesse of art Could quench the feeling of a mother's heart. He mused and marvelled: but some folk there be That in their worst resolves no wrong can see; As though they were bound closely to a stake, No purpose will they leave, which once they make. So this lord's business was to tempt his mate, In which ill course he was most obstinate. He watched her much, but never could he find Change in her temper or her steadfast mind. She always was in heart and look the same, As she grew older his more loving dame. There was between them but one will exprest, His will was hers: such concord men like best,