She bade the priest recite his words While hand in hand were they, Lord Dusiote's soul to waft to bliss; He had her hand, her vow, her kiss, And his body was borne away. III I. Lord Dusiote sprang from priest and squire; He gazed at her lighted room: The laughter in his heart grew slack; He knew not the force that pushed him back From her and the morn in bloom. II. Like a drowned man's length on the strong flood-tide, Like the shade of a bird in the sun, He fled from his lady whom he might claim As ghost, and who made the daybeams flame To scare what he had done. III. There was grief at Court for one so gay, Though he was a lord less keen For training the vine than at vintage-press; But in her soul the young princess Believed that love had been. IV. Lord Dusiote fled the Court and land, He crossed the woeful seas, Till his traitorous doing seemed clearer to burn, And the lady beloved drew his heart for return, Like the banner of war in the breeze. V. He neared the palace, he spied the Court, And music he heard, and they told Of foreign lords arrived to bring The nuptial gifts of a bridegroom king To the princess grave and cold. VI. The masque and the dance were cloud on wave, And down the masque and the dance Lord Dusiote stepped from dame to dame, And to the young princess he came, With a bow and a burning glance. VII. Do you take a new husband to-morrow, lady? She shrank as at prick of steel. Must the first yield place to the second, he sighed. Her eyes were like the grave that is wide For the corpse from head to heel. VIII. My lady, my love, that little hand Has mine ringed fast in plight: I bear for your lips a lawful thirst, And as justly the second should follow the first, I come to your door this night. IX. If a ghost should come a ghost will go: No more the lady said, Save that ever when he in wrath began To swear by the faith of a living man, She answered him, You are dead. IV I. The soft night-wind went laden to death With smell of the orange in flower; The light leaves prattled to neighbour ears; The bird of the passion sang over his tears; The night named hour by hour. II. Sang loud, sang low the rapturous bird Till the yellow hour was nigh, Behind the folds of a darker cloud: He chuckled, he sobbed, alow, aloud; The voice between earth and sky. III. O will you, will you, women are weak; The proudest are yielding mates For a forward foot and a tongue of fire: So thought Lord Dusiote's trusty squire, At watch by the palace-gates. IV.