THE DUEL

“I am here to time, you see;

The glade is well-screened — eh?— against alarm;

Fit place to vindicate by my arm

The honour of my spotless wife,

Who scorns your libel upon her life

In boasting intimacy!

“‘ All hush-offerings you'll spurn,

My husband. Two must come; one only go,’

She said.‘ That he'll be you I know;

To faith like ours Heaven will be just,

And I shall abide in fullest trust

Your speedy glad return.’”

“Good. Here am also I;

And we'll proceed without more waste of words

To warm your cockpit. Of the swords

Take you your choice. I shall thereby

Feel that on me no blame can lie,

Whatever Fate accords.”

So stripped they there, and fought,

And the swords clicked and scraped, and the onsets sped;

Till the husband fell; and his shirt was red

With streams from his heart's hot cistern. Nought

Could save him now; and the other, wrought

Maybe to pity, said:

“Why did you urge on this?

Your wife assured you; and‘ t had better been

That you had let things pass, serene

In confidence of long-tried bliss,

Holding there could be nought amiss

In what my words might mean.”

Then, seeing nor ruth nor rage

Could move his foeman more — now Death's deaf thrall -

He wiped his steel, and, with a call

Like turtledove to dove, swift broke

Into the copse, where under an oak

His horse cropt, held by a page.

“All's over, Sweet,” he cried

To the wife, thus guised; for the young page was she.

“‘ Tis as we hoped and said‘ t would be.

He never guessed... We mount and ride

To where our love can reign uneyed.

He's clay, and we are free.”