The Jacquerie. A Fragment Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BBCCDEFGDHIJKLDDMNND ODDPQRDDSDTDUVWDDXDY ZA2B2C2LDDD2E2DF2DDG 2SDH2DDDDDI2DDDDDJ2K 2L2M2ZN2DK2O2J2DDK2P 2C2DDQ2G2DTJG2R2Q2Q2 FJ2ZS2P DDQ2T2DU2RV2DDW2G2DD X2Y2Z2A3DDB3DZC3Q2D Z2Z2DDDDDFFD3E3SZ2F3 G3G2FQ2U2J2DDDQ2FX2Z 2U2H3DAI3 A H3H3DDDH3H3DH3H3DJ3F DH3DH3K3JDH3L3H3DAZ2 A3H3M3H3DZ2H3Z2H3N3H 3H3DO3VZ2DDZ2Z2VZ2DP 3Q2Z2DO3H3H3FDQ2DQ2D DDZ2A3DDDDM3Z2VDL2Q3 H3DDDZ2H3DDDFFDH3DDD R3Q2S3T3S3H3S3DS3Z2S 3DU3DM3DV3DFDW3Z2X3H 3DDH3SZ2H3Z2DSY3H3H3 H3H3Z3H3DDH3K3H3A4 Z2DFDK3H3FZ2DZ2H3DH3 DZ2B4I3C4X3DH3DM3Z2H 3H3D4F3H3H3H3L2H3FDH 3DDDH3H3ZH3DDDF3I3F3 DA4DK2DA4A3A4H3H3E4Z H3Q2H3DH3 DQ2Z2VDDDDDH3DSH3E4Q 2H3H3DF4FDE4G4Q2Z2B4 H3DH3DDDZ2Z2H3FDH3H3 H4S A H3H3H3Q2H3DZ2DDDH3Z2 Q2N3H3FH3JH3DFH3H3VV I4DQ2DDI3ZDH3Z Q2H3H3Z2FDH3H3JH3J4K 4DA3N3H3DDDH3H3FDDDH 3H3A4DQ2H3DDH3FH3DZ2 DL4FDL4DQ2Z2DK2Q2A3 Q2Z2I3DM3H3D H3DO3H3A3B4H3B4D K2 DK2H3H3DH3DDDDDDH3H3 H3H3H3X3Q2DH3H3H3DB4 DDDK2DH3DM4H3SDDDDH3 DH3DDH3H3DK2N4A3H3DD Q2O4DDDDDQ2H3P4DDQ4O 4H3H3Z2A3DDO3DH3DH3A 3DQ2O3DDDVH3DL2DDDH3 D DH3R4H3H3DH3H3Q2H3Q2 DDH3C4Q2H3DDDQ2H3H3D H3H3Q2DX3H3H3DDH3DDF DDH3K2A3FDDI3S4K2DH3 H3H3DFB4DDH3K2FDH3FD H3DB4H3DH3H3H3O4DUT4 DH3Q2H3H3DDH3L2DH3Q2 U4H3D V4| Chapter I | A |
| - | |
| Once on a time a Dawn all red and bright | B |
| Leapt on the conquered ramparts of the Night | B |
| And flamed one brilliant instant on the world | C |
| Then back into the historic moat was hurled | C |
| And Night was King again for many years | D |
| Once on a time the Rose of Spring blushed out | E |
| But Winter angrily withdrew it back | F |
| Into his rough new bursten husk and shut | G |
| The stern husk leaves and hid it many years | D |
| Once Famine tricked himself with ears of corn | H |
| And Hate strung flowers on his spiked belt | I |
| And glum Revenge in silver lilies pranked him | J |
| And Lust put violets on his shameless front | K |
| And all minced forth o' the street like holiday folk | L |
| That sally off afield on Summer morns | D |
| Once certain hounds that knew of many a chase | D |
| And bare great wounds of antler and of tusk | M |
| That they had ta'en to give a lord some sport | N |
| Good hounds that would have died to give lords sport | N |
| Were so bewrayed and kicked by these same lords | D |
| That all the pack turned tooth o' the knights and bit | O |
| As knights had been no better things than boars | D |
| And took revenge as bloody as a man's | D |
| Unhoundlike sudden hot i' the chops and sweet | P |
| Once sat a falcon on a lady's wrist | Q |
| Seeming to doze with wrinkled eye lid drawn | R |
| But dreaming hard of hoods and slaveries | D |
| And of dim hungers in his heart and wings | D |
| Then while the mistress gazed above for game | S |
| Sudden he flew into her painted face | D |
| And hooked his horn claws in her lily throat | T |
| And drove his beak into her lips and eyes | D |
| In fierce and hawkish kissing that did scar | U |
| And mar the lady's beauty evermore | V |
| And once while Chivalry stood tall and lithe | W |
| And flashed his sword above the stricken eyes | D |
| Of all the simple peasant folk of France | D |
| While Thought was keen and hot and quick | X |
| And did not play as in these later days | D |
| Like summer lightning flickering in the west | Y |
| As little dreadful as if glow worms lay | Z |
| In the cool and watery clouds and glimmered weak | A2 |
| But gleamed and struck at once or oak or man | B2 |
| And left not space for Time to wave his wing | C2 |
| Betwixt the instantaneous flash and stroke | L |
| While yet the needs of life were brave and fierce | D |
| And did not hide their deeds behind their words | D |
| And logic came not 'twixt desire and act | D2 |
| And Want and Take was the whole Form of life | E2 |
| While Love had fires a burning in his veins | D |
| And hidden Hate could flash into revenge | F2 |
| Ere yet young Trade was 'ware of his big thews | D |
| Or dreamed that in the bolder afterdays | D |
| He would hew down and bind old Chivalry | G2 |
| And drag him to the highest height of fame | S |
| And plunge him thence in the sea of still Romance | D |
| To lie for aye in never rusted mail | H2 |
| Gleaming through quiet ripples of soft songs | D |
| And sheens of old traditionary tales | D |
| On such a time a certain May arose | D |
| From out that blue Sea that between five lands | D |
| Lies like a violet midst of five large leaves | D |
| Arose from out this violet and flew on | I2 |
| And stirred the spirits of the woods of France | D |
| And smoothed the brows of moody Auvergne hills | D |
| And wrought warm sea tints into maidens' eyes | D |
| And calmed the wordy air of market towns | D |
| With faint suggestions blown from distant buds | D |
| Until the land seemed a mere dream of land | J2 |
| And in this dream field Life sat like a dove | K2 |
| And cooed across unto her dove mate Death | L2 |
| Brooding pathetic by a river lone | M2 |
| Oh sharper tangs pierced through this perfumed May | Z |
| Strange aches sailed by with odors on the wind | N2 |
| As when we kneel in flowers that grow on graves | D |
| Of friends who died unworthy of our love | K2 |
| King John of France was proving such an ache | O2 |
| In English prisons wide and fair and grand | J2 |
| Whose long expanses of green park and chace | D |
| Did ape large liberty with such success | D |
| As smiles of irony ape smiles of love | K2 |
| Down from the oaks of Hertford Castle park | P2 |
| Double with warm rose breaths of southern Spring | C2 |
| Came rumors as if odors too had thorns | D |
| Sharp rumors how the three Estates of France | D |
| Like old Three headed Cerberus of Hell | Q2 |
| Had set upon the Duke of Normandy | G2 |
| Their rightful Regent snarled in his great face | D |
| Snapped jagged teeth in inch breadth of his throat | T |
| And blown such hot and savage breath upon him | J |
| That he had tossed great sops of royalty | G2 |
| Unto the clamorous three mawed baying beast | R2 |
| And was not further on his way withal | Q2 |
| And had but changed a snarl into a growl | Q2 |
| How Arnold de Cervolles had ta'en the track | F |
| That war had burned along the unhappy land | J2 |
| Shouting since France is then too poor to pay | Z |
| The soldiers that have bloody devoir done | S2 |
| And since needs must pardie a man must eat | P |
| Arm gentlemen swords slice as well as knives ' | - |
| And so had tempted stout men from the ranks | D |
| And now was adding robbers' waste to war's | D |
| Stealing the leavings of remorseless battle | Q2 |
| And making gaunter the gaunt bones of want | T2 |
| How this Cervolles called Arch priest by the mass | D |
| Through warm Provence had marched and menace made | U2 |
| Against Pope Innocent at Avignon | R |
| And how the Pope nor ate nor drank nor slept | V2 |
| Through godly fear concerning his red wines | D |
| For if these knaves should sack his holy house | D |
| And all the blessed casks be knocked o' the head | W2 |
| HORRENDUM all his Holiness' drink to be | G2 |
| Profanely guzzled down the reeking throats | D |
| Of scoundrels and inflame them on to seize | D |
| The massy coffers of the Church's gold | X2 |
| And steal mayhap the carven silver shrine | Y2 |
| And all the golden crucifixes No | Z2 |
| And so the holy father Pope made stir | A3 |
| And had sent forth a legate to Cervolles | D |
| And treated with him and made compromise | D |
| And last had bidden all the Arch priest's troop | B3 |
| To come and banquet with him in his house | D |
| Where they did wassail high by night and day | Z |
| And Father Pope sat at the board and carved | C3 |
| Midst jokes that flowed full greasily | Q2 |
| And priest and soldier trolled good songs for mass | D |
| And all the prayers the Priests made were pray drink ' | - |
| And all the oaths the Soldiers swore were drink ' | - |
| Till Mirth sat like a jaunty postillon | Z2 |
| Upon the back of Time and urged him on | Z2 |
| With piquant spur past chapel and past cross | D |
| How Charles King of Navarre in long duress | D |
| By mandate of King John within the walls | D |
| Of Crevacoeur and then of strong Alleres | D |
| In faithful ward of Sir Tristan du Bois | D |
| Was now escaped had supped with Guy Kyrec | F |
| Had now a pardon of the Regent Duke | F |
| By half compulsion of a Paris mob | D3 |
| Had turned the people's love upon himself | E3 |
| By smooth harangues and now was bold to claim | S |
| That France was not the Kingdom of King John | Z2 |
| But By our Lady his by right and worth | F3 |
| And so was plotting treason in the State | G3 |
| And laughing at weak Charles of Normandy | G2 |
| Nay these had been like good news to the King | F |
| Were any man but bold enough to tell | Q2 |
| The King what bitter sayings men had made | U2 |
| And hawked augmenting up and down the land | J2 |
| Against the barons and great lords of France | D |
| That fled from English arrows at Poictiers | D |
| POICTIERS POICTIERS this grain i' the eye of France | D |
| Had swelled it to a big and bloodshot ball | Q2 |
| That looked with rage upon a world askew | F |
| Poictiers' disgrace was now but two years old | X2 |
| Yet so outrageous rank and full was grown | Z2 |
| That France was wholly overspread with shade | U2 |
| And bitter fruits lay on the untilled ground | H3 |
| That stank and bred so foul contagious smells | D |
| That not a nose in France but stood awry | A |
| Nor boor that cried not FAUGH upon the air | I3 |
| - | |
| - | |
| Chapter II | A |
| - | |
| Franciscan friar John de Rochetaillade | H3 |
| With gentle gesture lifted up his hand | H3 |
| And poised it high above the steady eyes | D |
| Of a great crowd that thronged the market place | D |
| In fair Clermont to hear him prophesy | D |
| Midst of the crowd old Gris Grillon the maimed | H3 |
| A wretched wreck that fate had floated out | H3 |
| From the drear storm of battle at Poictiers | D |
| A living man whose larger moiety | H3 |
| Was dead and buried on the battle field | H3 |
| A grisly trunk without or arms or legs | D |
| And scarred with hoof cuts over cheek and brow | J3 |
| Lay in his wicker cradle smiling | F |
| Jacques | D |
| Quoth he My son I would behold this priest | H3 |
| That is not fat and loves not wine and fasts | D |
| And stills the folk with waving of his hand | H3 |
| And threats the knights and thunders at the Pope | K3 |
| Make way for Gris ye who are whole of limb | J |
| Set me on yonder ledge that I may see | D |
| Forthwith a dozen horny hands reached out | H3 |
| And lifted Gris Grillon upon the ledge | L3 |
| Whereon he lay and overlooked the crowd | H3 |
| And from the gray grown hedges of his brows | D |
| Shot forth a glance against the friar's eye | A |
| That struck him like an arrow | Z2 |
| Then the friar | A3 |
| With voice as low as if a maiden hummed | H3 |
| Love songs of Provence in a mild day dream | M3 |
| And when he broke the second seal I heard | H3 |
| The second beast say Come and see | D |
| And then | Z2 |
| Went out another horse and he was red | H3 |
| And unto him that sat thereon was given | Z2 |
| To take the peace of earth away and set | H3 |
| Men killing one another and they gave | N3 |
| To him a mighty sword | H3 |
| The friar paused | H3 |
| And pointed round the circle of sad eyes | D |
| There is no face of man or woman here | O3 |
| But showeth print of the hard hoof of war | V |
| Ah yonder leaneth limbless Gris Grillon | Z2 |
| Friends Gris Grillon is France | D |
| Good France my France | D |
| Wilt never walk on glory's hills again | Z2 |
| Wilt never work among thy vines again | Z2 |
| Art footless and art handless evermore | V |
| Thou felon War I do arraign thee now | Z2 |
| Of mayhem of the four main limbs of France | D |
| Thou old red criminal stand forth I charge | P3 |
| But O I am too utter sorrowful | Q2 |
| To urge large accusation now | Z2 |
| Nathless | D |
| My work to day is still more grievous Hear | O3 |
| The stains that war hath wrought upon the land | H3 |
| Show but as faint white flecks if seen o' the side | H3 |
| Of those blood covered images that stalk | F |
| Through yon cold chambers of the future as | D |
| The prophet mood now stealing on my soul | Q2 |
| Reveals them marching marching marching See | D |
| There go the kings of France in piteous file | Q2 |
| The deadly diamonds shining in their crowns | D |
| Do wound the foreheads of their Majesties | D |
| And glitter through a setting of blood gouts | D |
| As if they smiled to think how men are slain | Z2 |
| By the sharp facets of the gem of power | A3 |
| And how the kings of men are slaves of stones | D |
| But look The long procession of the kings | D |
| Wavers and stops the world is full of noise | D |
| The ragged peoples storm the palaces | D |
| They rave they laugh they thirst they lap the stream | M3 |
| That trickles from the regal vestments down | Z2 |
| And lapping smack their heated chaps for more | V |
| And ply their daggers for it till the kings | D |
| All die and lie in a crooked sprawl of death | L2 |
| Ungainly foul and stiff as any heap | Q3 |
| Of villeins rotting on a battle field | H3 |
| 'Tis true that when these things have come to pass | D |
| Then never a king shall rule again in France | D |
| For every villein shall be king in France | D |
| And who hath lordship in him whether born | Z2 |
| In hedge or silken bed shall be a lord | H3 |
| And queens shall be as thick i' the land as wives | D |
| And all the maids shall maids of honor be | D |
| And high and low shall commune solemnly | D |
| And stars and stones shall have free interview | F |
| But woe is me 'tis also piteous true | F |
| That ere this gracious time shall visit France | D |
| Your graves Beloved shall be some centuries old | H3 |
| And so your children's and their children's graves | D |
| And many generations' | D |
| Ye O ye | D |
| Shall grieve and ye shall grieve and ye shall grieve | R3 |
| Your Life shall bend and o'er his shuttle toil | Q2 |
| A weaver weaving at the loom of grief | S3 |
| Your Life shall sweat 'twixt anvil and hot forge | T3 |
| An armorer working at the sword of grief | S3 |
| Your Life shall moil i' the ground and plant his seed | H3 |
| A farmer foisoning a huge crop of grief | S3 |
| Your Life shall chaffer in the market place | D |
| A merchant trading in the goods of grief | S3 |
| Your Life shall go to battle with his bow | Z2 |
| A soldier fighting in defence of grief | S3 |
| By every rudder that divides the seas | D |
| Tall Grief shall stand the helmsman of the ship | U3 |
| By every wain that jolts along the roads | D |
| Stout Grief shall walk the driver of the team | M3 |
| Midst every herd of cattle on the hills | D |
| Dull Grief shall lie the herdsman of the drove | V3 |
| Oh Grief shall grind your bread and play your lutes | D |
| And marry you and bury you | F |
| How else | D |
| Who's here in France can win her people's faith | W3 |
| And stand in front and lead the people on | Z2 |
| Where is the Church | X3 |
| The Church is far too fat | H3 |
| Not mark by robust swelling of the thews | D |
| But puffed and flabby large with gross increase | D |
| Of wine fat plague fat dropsy fat | H3 |
| O shame | S |
| Thou Pope that cheatest God at Avignon | Z2 |
| Thou that shouldst be the Father of the world | H3 |
| And Regent of it whilst our God is gone | Z2 |
| Thou that shouldst blaze with conferred majesty | D |
| And smite old Lust o' the Flesh so as by flame | S |
| Thou that canst turn thy key and lock Grief up | Y3 |
| Or turn thy key and unlock Heaven's Gate | H3 |
| Thou that shouldst be the veritable hand | H3 |
| That Christ down stretcheth out of heaven yet | H3 |
| To draw up him that fainteth to His heart | H3 |
| Thou that shouldst bear thy fruit yet virgin live | Z3 |
| As she that bore a man yet sinned not | H3 |
| Thou that shouldst challenge the most special eyes | D |
| Of Heaven and Earth and Hell to mark thee since | D |
| Thou shouldst be Heaven's best captain Earth's best friend | H3 |
| And Hell's best enemy false Pope false Pope | K3 |
| The world thy child is sick and like to die | H3 |
| But thou art dinner drowsy and cannot come | A4 |
| And Life is sore beset and crieth help ' | - |
| But thou brook'st not disturbance at thy wine | Z2 |
| And France is wild for one to lead her souls | D |
| But thou art huge and fat and laggest back | F |
| Among the remnants of forsaken camps | D |
| Thou'rt not God's Pope thou art the Devil's Pope | K3 |
| Thou art first Squire to that most puissant knight | H3 |
| Lord Satan who thy faithful squireship long | F |
| Hath watched and well shall guerdon | Z2 |
| Ye sad souls | D |
| So faint with work ye love not so thin worn | Z2 |
| With miseries ye wrought not so outraged | H3 |
| By strokes of ill that pass th' ill doers' heads | D |
| And cleave the innocent so desperate tired | H3 |
| Of insult that doth day by day abuse | D |
| The humblest dignity of humblest men | Z2 |
| Ye cannot call toward the Church for help | B4 |
| The Church already is o'erworked with care | I3 |
| Of its dyspeptic stomach | C4 |
| Ha the Church | X3 |
| Forgets about eternity | D |
| I had | H3 |
| A vision of forgetfulness | D |
| O Dream | M3 |
| Born of a dream as yonder cloud is born | Z2 |
| Of water which is born of cloud | H3 |
| I thought | H3 |
| I saw the moonlight lying large and calm | D4 |
| Upon the unthrobbing bosom of the earth | F3 |
| As a great diamond glittering on a shroud | H3 |
| A sense of breathlessness stilled all the world | H3 |
| Motion stood dreaming he was changed to Rest | H3 |
| And Life asleep did fancy he was Death | L2 |
| A quick small shadow spotted the white world | H3 |
| Then instantly 'twas huge and huger grew | F |
| By instants till it did o'ergloom all space | D |
| I lifted up mine eyes O thou just God | H3 |
| I saw a spectre with a million heads | D |
| Come frantic downward through the universe | D |
| And all the mouths of it were uttering cries | D |
| Wherein was a sharp agony and yet | H3 |
| The cries were much like laughs as if Pain laughed | H3 |
| Its myriad lips were blue and sometimes they | Z |
| Closed fast and only moaned dim sounds that shaped | H3 |
| Themselves to one word Homeless' and the stars | D |
| Did utter back the moan and the great hills | D |
| Did bellow it and then the stars and hills | D |
| Bandied the grief o' the ghost 'twixt heaven and earth | F3 |
| The spectre sank and lay upon the air | I3 |
| And brooded level close upon the earth | F3 |
| With all the myriad heads just over me | D |
| I glanced in all the eyes and marked that some | A4 |
| Did glitter with a flame of lunacy | D |
| And some were soft and false as feigning love | K2 |
| And some were blinking with hypocrisy | D |
| And some were overfilmed by sense and some | A4 |
| Blazed with ambition's wild unsteady fire | A3 |
| And some were burnt i' the sockets black and some | A4 |
| Were dead as embers when the fire is out | H3 |
| A curious zone circled the Spectre's waist | H3 |
| Which seemed with strange device to symbol Time | E4 |
| It was a silver gleaming thread of day | Z |
| Spiral about a jet black band of night | H3 |
| This zone seemed ever to contract and all | Q2 |
| The frame with momentary spasms heaved | H3 |
| In the strangling traction which did never cease | D |
| I cried unto the spectre Time hath bound | H3 |
| Thy body with the fibre of his hours ' | - |
| Then rose a multitude of mocking sounds | D |
| And some mouths spat at me and cried thou fool' | Q2 |
| And some thou liest' and some he dreams' and then | Z2 |
| Some hands uplifted certain bowls they bore | V |
| To lips that writhed but drank with eagerness | D |
| And some played curious viols shaped like hearts | D |
| And stringed with loves to light and ribald tunes | D |
| And other hands slit throats with knives | D |
| And others patted all the painted cheeks | D |
| In reach and others stole what others had | H3 |
| Unseen or boldly snatched at alien rights | D |
| And some o' the heads did vie in a foolish game | S |
| OF WHICH COULD HOLD ITSELF THE HIGHEST and | H3 |
| OF WHICH ONE'S NECK WAS STIFF THE LONGEST TIME | E4 |
| And then the sea in silence wove a veil | Q2 |
| Of mist and breathed it upward and about | H3 |
| And waved and wound it softly round the world | H3 |
| And meshed my dream i' the vague and endless folds | D |
| And a light wind arose and blew these off | F4 |
| And I awoke | F |
| The many heads are priests | D |
| That have forgot eternity and Time | E4 |
| Hath caught and bound them with a withe | G4 |
| Into a fagot huge to burn in hell | Q2 |
| Now if the priesthood put such shame upon | Z2 |
| Your cry for leadership can better help | B4 |
| Come out of knighthood | H3 |
| Lo you smile you boors | D |
| You villeins smile at knighthood | H3 |
| Now thou France | D |
| That wert the mother of fair chivalry | D |
| Unclose thine eyes unclose thine eyes here see | D |
| Here stand a herd of knaves that laugh to scorn | Z2 |
| Thy gentlemen | Z2 |
| O contumely hard | H3 |
| O bitterness of last disgrace O sting | F |
| That stings the coward knights of lost Poictiers | D |
| I would but now a murmur rose i' the crowd | H3 |
| Of angry voices and the friar leapt | H3 |
| From where he stood to preach and pressed a path | H4 |
| Betwixt the mass that way the voices came | S |
| - | |
| - | |
| Chapter III | A |
| - | |
| Lord Raoul was riding castleward from field | H3 |
| At left hand rode his lady and at right | H3 |
| His fool whom he loved better and his bird | H3 |
| His fine ger falcon best beloved of all | Q2 |
| Sat hooded on his wrist and gently swayed | H3 |
| To the undulating amble of the horse | D |
| Guest knights and huntsmen and a noisy train | Z2 |
| Of loyal stomached flatterers and their squires | D |
| Clattered in retinue and aped his pace | D |
| And timed their talk by his and worked their eyes | D |
| By intimation of his glance with great | H3 |
| And drilled precision | Z2 |
| Then said the fool | Q2 |
| 'Twas a brave flight my lord that last one brave | N3 |
| Didst note the heron once did turn about | H3 |
| And show a certain anger with his wing | F |
| And make as if he almost dared not quite | H3 |
| To strike the falcon ere the falcon him | J |
| A foolish damnable advised bird | H3 |
| Yon heron What Shall herons grapple hawks | D |
| God made the herons for the hawks to strike | F |
| And hawk and heron made he for lords' sport | H3 |
| What then my honey tongued Fool that knowest | H3 |
| God's purposes what made he fools for | V |
| For | V |
| To counsel lords my lord Wilt hear me prove | I4 |
| Fools' counsel better than wise men's advice | D |
| Aye prove it If thy logic fail wise fool | Q2 |
| I'll cause two wise men whip thee soundly | D |
| So | D |
| Wise men are prudent prudent men have care | I3 |
| For their own proper interest therefore they | Z |
| Advise their own advantage not another's | D |
| But fools are careless careless men care not | H3 |
| For their own proper interest therefore they | Z |
| Advise their friend's advantage not their own ' | - |
| Now hear the commentary Cousin Raoul | Q2 |
| This fool unselfish counsels thee his lord | H3 |
| Go not through yonder square where as thou see'st | H3 |
| Yon herd of villeins crick necked all with strain | Z2 |
| Of gazing upward stand and gaze and take | F |
| With open mouth and eye and ear the quips | D |
| And heresies of John de Rochetaillade | H3 |
| Lord Raoul half turned him in his saddle round | H3 |
| And looked upon his fool and vouchsafed him | J |
| What moiety of fastidious wonderment | H3 |
| A generous nobleness could deign to give | J4 |
| To such humility with eye superb | K4 |
| Where languor and surprise both showed themselves | D |
| Each deprecating t'other | A3 |
| Now dear knave | N3 |
| Be kind and tell me tell me quickly too | H3 |
| Some proper reasonable ground or cause | D |
| Nay tell me but some shadow of some cause | D |
| Nay hint me but a thin ghost's dream of cause | D |
| So will I thee absolve from being whipped | H3 |
| Why I Lord Raoul should turn my horse aside | H3 |
| From riding by yon pitiful villein gang | F |
| Or ay by God from riding o'er their heads | D |
| If so my humor serve or through their bodies | D |
| Or miring fetlocks in their nasty brains | D |
| Or doing aught else I will in my Clermont | H3 |
| Do me this grace mine Idiot | H3 |
| Please thy Wisdom | A4 |
| An thou dost ride through this same gang of boors | D |
| 'Tis my fool's prophecy some ill shall fall | Q2 |
| Lord Raoul yon mass of various flesh is fused | H3 |
| And melted quite in one by white hot words | D |
| The friar speaks Sir sawest thou ne'er sometimes | D |
| Thine armorer spit on iron when 'twas hot | H3 |
| And how the iron flung the insult back | F |
| Hissing So this contempt now in thine eye | H3 |
| If it shall fall on yonder heated surface | D |
| May bounce back upward Well and then What then | Z2 |
| Why if thou cause thy folk to crop some villein's ears | D |
| So evil falls and a fool foretells the truth | L4 |
| Or if some erring crossbow bolt should break | F |
| Thine unarmed head shot from behind a house | D |
| So evil falls and a fool foretells the truth | L4 |
| Well quoth Lord Raoul with languid utterance | D |
| 'Tis very well and thou'rt a foolish fool | Q2 |
| Nay thou art Folly's perfect witless man | Z2 |
| Stupidity doth madly dote on thee | D |
| And Idiocy doth fight her for thy love | K2 |
| Yet Silliness doth love thee best of all | Q2 |
| And while they quarrel snatcheth thee to her | A3 |
| And saith Ah 'tis my sweetest No brains mine ' | - |
| And 'tis my mood to day some ill shall fall | Q2 |
| And there right suddenly Lord Raoul gave rein | Z2 |
| And galloped straightway to the crowded square | I3 |
| What time a strange light flickered in the eyes | D |
| Of the calm fool that was not folly's gleam | M3 |
| But more like wisdom's smile at plan well laid | H3 |
| And end well compassed In the noise of hoofs | D |
| Secure the fool low muttered Folly's love ' | - |
| So Silliness' sweetheart no brains ' quoth my Lord | H3 |
| Why how intolerable an ass is he | D |
| Whom Silliness' sweetheart drives so by the ear | O3 |
| Thou languid lordly most heart breaking Nought | H3 |
| Thou bastard zero that hast come to power | A3 |
| Nothing's right issue failing Thou mere pooh' | B4 |
| That Life hath uttered in some moment's pet | H3 |
| And then forgot she uttered thee Thou gap | B4 |
| In time thou little notch in circumstance | D |
| - | |
| - | |
| Chapter IV | K2 |
| - | |
| Lord Raoul drew rein with all his company | D |
| And urged his horse i' the crowd to gain fair view | K2 |
| Of him that spoke and stopped at last and sat | H3 |
| Still underneath where Gris Grillon was laid | H3 |
| And heard somewhile with languid scornful gaze | D |
| The friar putting blame on priest and knight | H3 |
| But presently as 'twere in weariness | D |
| He gazed about and then above and so | D |
| Made mark of Gris Grillon | D |
| So there old man | D |
| Thou hast more brows than legs | D |
| I would quoth Gris | D |
| That thou upon a certain time I wot | H3 |
| Hadst had less legs and bigger brows my Lord | H3 |
| Then all the flatterers and their squires cried out | H3 |
| Solicitous with various voice Go to | H3 |
| Old Rogue or Shall I brain him my good Lord | H3 |
| Or So let me but chuck him from his perch | X3 |
| Or Slice his tongue to piece his leg withal | Q2 |
| Or Send his eyes to look for his missing arms | D |
| But my Lord Raoul was in the mood to day | H3 |
| Which craves suggestions simply with a view | H3 |
| To flout them in the face and so waved hand | H3 |
| Backward and stayed the on pressing sycophants | D |
| Eager to buy rich praise with bravery cheap | B4 |
| I would know why he said thou wishedst me | D |
| Less legs and bigger brows and when | D |
| Wouldst know | D |
| Learn then cried Gris Grillon and stirred himself | K2 |
| In a great spasm of passion mixed with pain | D |
| An thou hadst had more courage and less speed | H3 |
| Then ah my God then could not I have been | D |
| That piteous gibe of a man thou see'st I am | M4 |
| Sir having no disease nor any taint | H3 |
| Nor old hereditament of sin or shame | S |
| But feeling the brave bound and energy | D |
| Of daring health that leaps along the veins | D |
| As a hart upon his river banks at morn | D |
| Sir wild with the urgings and hot strenuous beats | D |
| Of manhood's heart in this full sinewed breast | H3 |
| Which thou may'st even now discern is mine | D |
| Sir full aware each instant in each day | H3 |
| Of motions of great muscles once were mine | D |
| And thrill of tense thew knots and stinging sense | D |
| Of nerves nice capable and delicate | H3 |
| Sir visited each hour by passions great | H3 |
| That lack all instrument of utterance | D |
| Passion of love that hath no arm to curve | K2 |
| Passion of speed that hath no limb to stretch | N4 |
| Yea even that poor feeling of desire | A3 |
| Simply to turn me from this side to that | H3 |
| Which brooded on into wild passion grows | D |
| By reason of the impotence that broods | D |
| Balked of its end and unachievable | Q2 |
| Without assistance of some foreign arm | O4 |
| Sir moved and thrilled like any perfect man | D |
| O trebly moved and thrilled since poor desires | D |
| That are of small import to happy men | D |
| Who easily can compass them to me | D |
| Become mere hopeless Heavens or actual Hells | D |
| Sir strengthened so with manhood's seasoned soul | Q2 |
| I lie in this damned cradle day and night | H3 |
| Still still so still my Lord less than a babe | P4 |
| In powers but more than any man in needs | D |
| Dreaming with open eye of days when men | D |
| Have fallen cloven through steel and bone and flesh | Q4 |
| At single strokes of this of that big arm | O4 |
| Once wielded aught a mortal arm might wield | H3 |
| Waking a prey to any foolish gnat | H3 |
| That wills to conquer my defenceless brow | Z2 |
| And sit thereon in triumph hounded ever | A3 |
| By small necessities of barest use | D |
| Which since I cannot compass them alone | D |
| Do snarl my helplessness into mine ear | O3 |
| Howling behind me that I have no hands | D |
| And yelping round me that I have no feet | H3 |
| So that my heart is stretched by tiny ills | D |
| That are so much the larger that I knew | H3 |
| In bygone days how trifling small they were | A3 |
| Dungeoned in wicker strong as 'twere in stone | D |
| Fast chained with nothing firmer than with steel | Q2 |
| Captive in limb yet free in eye and ear | O3 |
| Sole tenant of this puny Hell in Heaven | D |
| And this all this because I was a man | D |
| For in the battle ha thou know'st pale face | D |
| When that the four great English horsemen bore | V |
| So bloodily on thee I leapt to front | H3 |
| To front of thee of thee and fought four blades | D |
| Thinking to win thee time to snatch thy breath | L2 |
| And by a rearing fore hoof stricken down | D |
| Mine eyes through blood my brain through pain | D |
| Midst of a dim hot uproar fainting down | D |
| Were 'ware of thee far rearward fleeing Hound | H3 |
| - | |
| - | |
| Chapter V | D |
| - | |
| Then as the passion of old Gris Grillon | D |
| A wave swift swelling grew to highest height | H3 |
| And snapped a foaming consummation forth | R4 |
| With salty hissing came the friar through | H3 |
| The mass A stillness of white faces wrought | H3 |
| A transient death on all the hands and breasts | D |
| Of all the crowd and men and women stood | H3 |
| One instant fixed as they had died upright | H3 |
| Then suddenly Lord Raoul rose up in selle | Q2 |
| And thrust his dagger straight upon the breast | H3 |
| Of Gris Grillon to pin him to the wall | Q2 |
| But ere steel point met flesh tall Jacques Grillon | D |
| Had leapt straight upward from the earth and in | D |
| The self same act had whirled his bow by end | H3 |
| With mighty whirr about his head and struck | C4 |
| The dagger with so featly stroke and full | Q2 |
| That blade flew up and hilt flew down and left | H3 |
| Lord Raoul unfriended of his weapon | D |
| Then | D |
| The fool cried shrilly Shall a knight of France | D |
| Go stabbing his own cattle And Lord Raoul | Q2 |
| Calm with a changing mood sat still and called | H3 |
| Here huntsmen 'tis my will ye seize the hind | H3 |
| That broke my dagger bind him to this tree | D |
| And slice both ears to hair breadth of his head | H3 |
| To be his bloody token of regret | H3 |
| That he hath put them to so foul employ | Q2 |
| As catching villainous breath of strolling priests | D |
| That mouth at knighthood and defile the Church | X3 |
| The knife Rest of line lost | H3 |
| To place the edge Rest of line lost | H3 |
| Mary the blood it oozes sluggishly | D |
| Scorning to come at call of blade so base | D |
| Sathanas He that cuts the ear has left | H3 |
| The blade sticking at midway for to turn | D |
| And ask the Duke if 'tis not done | D |
| Thus far with nice precision and the Duke | F |
| Leans down to see and cries 'tis marvellous nice | D |
| Shaved as thou wert ear barber by profession | D |
| Whereat one witling cries 'tis monstrous fit | H3 |
| In sooth a shaven pated priest should have | K2 |
| A shaven eared audience and another | A3 |
| Give thanks thou Jacques to this most gracious Duke | F |
| That rids thee of the life long dread of loss | D |
| Of thy two ears by cropping them at once | D |
| And now henceforth full safely thou may'st dare | I3 |
| The powerfullest Lord in France to touch | S4 |
| An ear of thine and now the knave o' the knife | K2 |
| Seizes the handle to commence again and saws | D |
| And ha Lift up thine head O Henry Friend | H3 |
| 'Tis Marie walking midway of the street | H3 |
| As she had just stepped forth from out the gate | H3 |
| Of the very very Heaven where God is | D |
| Still glittering with the God shine on her Look | F |
| And there right suddenly the fool looked up | B4 |
| And saw the crowd divided in two ranks | D |
| Raoul pale stricken as a man that waits | D |
| God's first remark when he hath died into | H3 |
| God's sudden presence saw the cropping knave | K2 |
| A pause with knife in hand the wondering folk | F |
| All straining forward with round ringed eyes | D |
| And Gris Grillon calm smiling while he prayed | H3 |
| The Holy Virgin's blessing | F |
| Down the lane | D |
| Betwixt the hedging bodies of the crowd | H3 |
| Part of line lost majesty | D |
| Part of line lost a spirit pacing on the top | B4 |
| Of springy clouds and bore straight on toward | H3 |
| The Duke On him her eyes burned steadily | D |
| With such gray fires of heaven hot command | H3 |
| As Dawn burns Night away with and she held | H3 |
| Her white forefinger quivering aloft | H3 |
| At greatest arm's length of her dainty arm | O4 |
| In menace sweeter than a kiss could be | D |
| And terribler than sudden whispers are | U |
| That come from lips unseen in sunlit room | T4 |
| So with the spell of all the Powers of Sense | D |
| That e'er have swayed the savagery of hot blood | H3 |
| Raying from her whole body beautiful | Q2 |
| She held the eyes and wills of all the crowd | H3 |
| Then from the numbed hand of him that cut | H3 |
| The knife dropped down and the quick fool stole in | D |
| And snatched and deftly severed all the withes | D |
| Unseen and Jacques burst forth into the crowd | H3 |
| And then the mass completed the long breath | L2 |
| They had forgot to draw and surged upon | D |
| The centre where the maiden stood with sound | H3 |
| Of multitudes of blessings and Lord Raoul | Q2 |
| Rode homeward silent and most pale and strange | U4 |
| Deep wrapt in moody fits of hot and cold | H3 |
| End of Chapter V | D |
| - | |
| - | |
| - | |
| Macon Georgia | V4 |
Sidney Lanier
(1)
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About The Jacquerie. A Fragment
The Jacquerie. A Fragment is a poem by Sidney Lanier. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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