Enguilbert! oh Enguilbert, the sword is in thine hand,
Thou hast vowed before our Lady’s shrine to seek the Sainted land:
--Thou goest to fight for glory--but what will _glory_ be,
If thou lov’st me, and return’st to find a tomb and dust for _me_?
Look on me Enguilbert, for I have lost the shame
That should have stayed these tears and prayers from one of
Tournay’s name:
--Look on me, my own bright-eyed Love--oh wilt thou leave me--say
To droop as sunless flowers do, lacking thee--light of _my_ day?
Oh say that I may wend with thee--I’ll doff my woman’s ’tire,
Sling my Father’s sword unto my side, and o’er my back my lyre:
I’ll roam with thee a Troubadour, by day--by night, thy bride--
--Speak Enguilbert--say _yes_,--or see my heart break if denied.
Oh shouldst thou fall, my Enguilbert, whose lips thy wounds will
close?--
Who but thine own fond Emeugarde should watch o’er thy repose?
And pierced, and cold her faithful breast must be e’er spear or
sword
Should ought of harm upon thee wreak, my Troubadour--my Lord.
--Nay smile not at my words, sweet-heart--the Goss hath slender beak
But brings its quarry nobly down--I _love_ tho’ I am _weak_
--My Blood hath coursed thro’ Charlemagne’s veins, and better it
should _flow_
Upon the field with Infidels’, than here _congeal_ with woe.
--Ah Enguilbert--my soul’s adored! the tear is in thine eye;
Thou wilt not--can’st not leave me like the widowed dove to die:
--No--no--thine arm is round me--that kiss on my hot brow
Spoke thy assent, my bridegroom love,--_we are_ ONE _for ever now_.