The First Wife

Ah, my lord, are the tidings true,

That thy mother's jewels are shapen anew?

I hear that a bride has chosen been,

The stars consulted, the parents seen.

Had I been childless, had never there smiled

The brilliant eyes from the face of a child,

Then at least I had understood

This thing they tell me thou findest good.

But I have been down to the River of Death,

With painful footsteps and shuddering breath,

Seven times; thou hast daughters three,

And four young sons who are fair as thee.

I am not unlovely, over my head

Not twenty summers as yet have sped.

‘ T is eleven years since my opening life

Was given to thee by my father's wife.

Ah, those days — They were lovely to me,

When little and shy I waited for thee.

Till I locked my arms round my lover above,

A child in form but a woman in love.

And I bore thy sons, as a woman should,

Year by year, as is meet and good.

Thy mother was ever content with me —

And Oh, Beloved, I worshipped thee!

And now it's over; alas, my lord,

Better I felt thy sharpest sword.

I hear she is youthful and fair as I

When I came to thee in the days gone by.

Her breasts are firmer; this bosom slips

Somewhat, weighted by children's lips.

But they were thy children. Oh, lord my king,

Ah, why hast thy heart devised this thing?

I am not as the women of this thy land,

Meek and timid, broken to hand.

From the distant North I was given to thee,

Whose daughters are passionate, fierce and free,

I could not dwell by a rival's side,

I seek a bridegroom, as thou a bride.

The night she yieldeth her youth to thee,

Death shall take his pleasure in me.