The Lay of Aotrou and Itroun. Verlyn Flieger

wear and fade,

      though flowers fall and leaves are laid,

      and winter winds his trumpet loud,

      and snows both fell and forest shroud,

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      though roaring seas upon the shore

      go long and white, and neath the door

      the wind cries with houseless voice,

      in fire and song yet men rejoice,

      till as a ship returns to port

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      the spring comes back to field and court.

      A song now falls from windows high,

      like silver dropping from the sky,

      soft in the early eve of spring.

      ‘Why do they play? Why do they sing?’

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      ‘Light may she lie, our lady fair!

       Too long hath been her cradle bare.

       Yestreve there came as I passed by

       the cry of babes from windows high.

       Twin children, I am told there be.

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      Light may they lie and sleep, all three!’

      ‘Would every prayer were answered twice!

       The half or nought must oft suffice

       for humbler men, who wear their knees

       more bare than lords, as oft one sees.’

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       ‘Not every lord wins such fair grace.

       Come wish them speed with kinder face!

       Light may she lie, my lady fair;

       long live her lord her joy to share!’

      A manchild and an infant maid

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      as fair as flowers in bed were laid.

      Her joy was come, her pain was passed;

      in mirth and ease Itroun at last

      in her fair chamber softly lay

      singing to her babes lullay.

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      Glad was her lord, as grave he stood

      beside her bed of carven wood.

      ‘Now full,’ he said, ‘is granted me

       both hope and prayer, and what of thee?

       Is ’t not, fair love, most passing sweet

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       the heart’s desire at last to meet?

       Yet if thy heart still longing hold,

       or lightest wish remain untold,

       that will I find and bring to thee,

      though I should ride both land and sea!’

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      ‘Aotrou mine,’ she said, ‘’tis sweet

       at last the heart’s desire to meet,

       thus after waiting, after prayer,

       thus after hope and nigh despair.

       I would not have thee run nor ride

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       to-day nor ever from my side;

       yet after sickness, after pain,

      oft cometh hunger sharp again.’

      ‘Nay, love, if thirst or hunger strange

       for bird or beast on earth that range,

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       for wine, or water from what well

       in any secret fount or dell,

      vex thee,’ he smiled, ‘now swift declare!

       If more than gold or jewel rare,

       from greenwood, haply, fallow deer,

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       or fowl that swims the shallow mere

       thou cravest, I will bring it thee,

       though I should hunt o’er land and lea.

       No gold nor silk nor jewel bright

       can match my gladness and delight,

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       the boy and maiden lily-fair

      that here do lie and thou did’st bear.’

      ‘Aotrou, lord,’ she said, ‘’tis true,

       a longing strong and sharp I knew

       in dream for water cool and clear,

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       and venison of the greenwood deer,

       for waters crystal-clear and cold

       and deer no earthly forests hold;

       and still in waking comes unsought

       the foolish wish to vex my thought.

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       But I would not have thee run nor ride

      to-day nor ever from my side.’

      In Brittany beyond the seas

      the wind blows ever through the trees;

      in Brittany the forest pale