2. The Imprisonment

Word they brought to Leopold,

Spake in Austria's ear;

“Rejoice this day that brings your prey,

Your enemy Richard is here;

“Now is revenge for an ancient grudge

Given into your hand,

He mocked aloud‘ mid the allies’ crowd

And is now alone in your land.”

Leopold started out of his seat;

“Good be the news indeed!

Now quickly bring to me hither the king,

He shall sue to me in his need.”

Richard the King is before the Duke,

Garbed in a mean disguise,

Yet kingship claim the mighty frame

And the glance of the kingly eyes,

And the Jove-like head with its close-cut hair,

And the flowing golden beard;

No rags can hide the huge limbs’ pride,

In kingly cradle reared.

Gay, and kingly, and debonair

The Lion-hearted stood.

“Fair come to land, by this right hand,

Your welcome shall be good.”

“Fair thanks to you, our cousin the Duke,”

Said Richard, no whit beguiled;

“I thought not to prove the worth of your love

When I entered your land,” he smiled.

“Being in haste to return to my land,

I passed in this disguise,

For I would not stay the rich display

Your ducal bounty supplies.”

Leopold snarled like an angry wolf.

“How came you hither?” said he;

“No choice of mine, but by rule divine,”

— Said Richard — “I came by sea,

“Travelling in haste from Palestine

To assure me England's throne;

But a storm arose, and my fears suppose

That I was saved alone.”

“Now bind his hands,” cried Leopold,

“For he comes as a spy, I see.”

The King's eyes blazed in wrath amazed,

“A ducal greeting,” quoth he.

“These bonds are unfitting, Duke Leopold,

Both mine and your degree,

Nor consorts my fame with a spying name,

In your throat let your own words be.”

Amazed were they all at Richard's taunts,

But he smiled with easy pride.

“Now what prevents that my fury vents

Itself?” the Austrian cried.

“Now what prevents that I kill you straight

And your corpse to the ravens fling?

‘ Twere easy to say you were ocean's prey.”

“But you dare not,” said Richard the King.

Leopold turned to his feudal lords,

Who stood in wondering;

“Now prison me straight this runagate,”

Said he, “let us lodge this King!”

They have taken Richard the Lion-heart

And fettered him fast and sure,

In a narrow cell they have chained him well

With chains that shall endure.

And even Richard's stout heart fails

When he hears the great doors clang,

And he knows at last that they have him fast,

Whose fame through Europe rang.

“Oh, what prevents the crafty Duke

From poison or secret knife,

For no one knows that Richard goes

In disguise, in fear of his life;

“My brother John will well believe

That I was drowned at sea;

Nay, he scarce will ask, but will take the task

Of kingship gleefully;

“And my people will easily forget

Their monarch so little seen,

And almost my name will be lost to fame,

I shall be as I ne'er had been.”

Many a weary week and month

Must darken prison walls;

And the King's eye dims, and his mighty limbs

Waste, as the leaf that falls.

And his face is blanched, and sorrow sits

Carven upon his brow,

And his right arm slacks for the battle-axe,

The warlike field to plough.

And yet and anon comes Leopold

His captive lord to see,

And revenge to taste, as he sees him waste,

“How fares the Lion?” cries he.

“Cousinly questioned,” says the King,

And kingly flashes his eye;

“Let the hog beware of the lion's lair,

Though the lion couchant lie.”

And then gives back Duke Leopold,

And his laugh has a hollow ring;

Once more he goes, and the shadows close

Round the head and the heart of the King.

Then word comes suddenly, flying fast,

“Masters, the King is found!”

And from distant lands the poet stands

At last upon English ground.

“I have found him, Blondel de Nesle!

As I wandered, harp in hand,

Through breadth and length of Austria's strength,

I saw a tower stand,

“And nearer drew, I knew not why,

Till I heard a man's voice sing

With something of skill, and my heart stood still —

‘ Twas the voice of Richard the King,

“Singing a fitte that we both had made

Once in a banquet hall,

When his heart was light, of a captive knight

Who out upon Fate did call.

“Then I took up King Richard's words

And sang the fitte again,

And did descry — Oh! hope was high!— -

That he of it was fain.

“So I struck my harp and sang once more

Of a minstrel wandering far,

Till he reached the strand of a distant land

Where trusty yeomen are,

“Where hearts will swell with joy to hear

Of their dear and distant King,

And burn for shame of his knightly fame

And the false imprisoning ——

“And Richard sang from his mighty throat

‘ Oh Blondel, blessed be thou,

Thy star of birth makes glad the earth,

Thy wit shall save me now.

“‘ Oh tell my people that I am woe

For my absence long and drear,

When the land did bleed under wolfish greed

And the shepherd was not near.’”

( Sullen and black was the brow of John

Like an angry thunder-cloud,

But the poet recked not in his respect,

His message spake aloud. )

“‘ And tell my people Richard sends

His heart in the minstrel's hand,

And my eyes shall yearn until they turn

On the cliffs of my loyal land.

“‘ And this do I add at night and morn,

When I pray for the fall of Zion:

To my people send a better friend,

Oh God, than Richard the Lion!’”