



Produced by Ted Garvin, Josephine Paolucci, and Project
Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders











THE RIDE TO THE LADY

And Other Poems

BY

HELEN GRAY CONE

1891







  CONTENTS

  The Ride to the Lady

  The First Guest

  Silence

  Arraignment

  The Going Out of the Tide

  King Raedwald

  Ivo of Chartres

  Madonna Pia

  Two Moods of Failure

  The Story of the "Orient"

  A Resurrection

  The Glorious Company

  The Trumpeter

  Comrades

  The House of Hate

  The Arrowmaker

  A Nest in a Lyre

  Thisbe

  The Spring Beauties

  Kinship

  Compensation

  When Willows Green

  At the Parting of the Ways

  The Fair Gray Lady

  The Encounter.

  Summer Hours

  Love Unsung

  The Wish for a Chaplet

  Sonnets:
  The Torch Race
  To Sleep
  Sister Snow
  The Contrast
  A Mystery
  Triumph
  In Winter, with the Book we had in Spring
  Sere Wisdom
  Isolation
  The Lost Dryad
  The Gifts of the Oak
  The Strayed Singer
  The Immortal Word




  THE RIDE TO THE LADY


  "Now since mine even is come at last,--
  For I have been the sport of steel,
  And hot life ebbeth from me fast,
  And I in saddle roll and reel,--
  Come bind me, bind me on my steed!
  Of fingering leech I have no need!"
  The chaplain clasped his mailed knee.
  "Nor need I more thy whine and thee!
  No time is left my sins to tell;
  But look ye bind me, bind me well!"
  They bound him strong with leathern thong,
  For the ride to the lady should be long.

  Day was dying; the poplars fled,
  Thin as ghosts, on a sky blood-red;
  Out of the sky the fierce hue fell,
  And made the streams as the streams of hell.
  All his thoughts as a river flowed,
  Flowed aflame as fleet he rode,
  Onward flowed to her abode,
  Ceased at her feet, mirrored her face.
  (Viewless Death apace, apace,
  Rode behind him in that race.)

  "Face, mine own, mine alone,
  Trembling lips my lips have known,
  Birdlike stir of the dove-soft eyne
  Under the kisses that make them mine!
  Only of thee, of thee, my need!
  Only to thee, to thee, I speed!"
  The Cross flashed by at the highway's turn;
  In a beam of the moon the Face shone stern.

  Far behind had the fight's din died;
  The shuddering stars in the welkin wide
  Crowded, crowded, to see him ride.
  The beating hearts of the stars aloof
  kept time to the beat of the horse's hoof,
  "What is the throb that thrills so sweet?
  Heart of my lady, I feel it beat!"
  But his own strong pulse the fainter fell,
  Like the failing tongue of a hushing bell.
  The flank of the great-limbed steed was wet
  Not alone with the started sweat.

  Fast, and fast, and the thick black wood
  Arched its cowl like a black friar's hood;
  Fast, and fast, and they plunged therein,--
  But the viewless rider rode to win,
  Out of the wood to the highway's light
  Galloped the great-limbed steed in fright;
  The mail clashed cold, and the sad owl cried,
  And the weight of the dead oppressed his side.

  Fast, and fast, by the road he knew;
  And slow, and slow, the stars withdrew;
  And the waiting heaven turned weirdly blue,
  As a garment worn of a wizard grim.
  He neighed at the gate in the morning dim.

  She heard no sound before her gate,
  Though very quiet was her bower.
  All was as her hand had left it late:
  The needle slept on the broidered vine,
  Where the hammer and spikes of the passion-flower
  Her fashioning did wait.
  On the couch lay something fair,
  With steadfast lips and veiled eyne;

  But the lady was not there,
  On the wings of shrift and prayer,
  Pure as winds that winnow snow,
  Her soul had risen twelve hours ago.
  The burdened steed at the barred gate stood,
  No whit the nearer to his goal.
  Now God's great grace assoil the soul
  That went out in the wood!




  THE FIRST GUEST


  When the house is finished, Death enters.
  _Eastern Proverb_

  Life's House being ready all,
  Each chamber fair and dumb,
  Ere life, the Lord, is come
  With pomp into his hall,--
  Ere Toil has trod the floors,
  Ere Love has lit the fires,
  Or young great-eyed Desires
  Have, timid, tried the doors;
  Or from east-window leaned
  One Hope, to greet the sun,
  Or one gray Sorrow screened
  Her sight against the west,--
  Then enters the first guest,
  The House of life being done.

  He waits there in the shade.
  I deem he is Life's twin,
  For whom the house was made.
  Whatever his true name,
  Be sure, to enter in
  He has both key and claim.

  The daybeams, free of fear,
  Creep drowsy toward his feet;
  His heart were heard to beat,
  Were any there to hear;
  Ah, not for ends malign,
  Like wild thing crouched in lair,
  Or watcher of a snare,
  But with a friend's design
  He lurks in shadow there!

  He goes