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Poem by Anne Bannerman


The Black Knight of the Water


EARL WILLIAM left his castle hall,
When the sun shone, burning bright, at noon,
He rode, rode on, thro' many a town
To the princely pile of Scoone !

King Robert stood on the battlements' height,
His train was bold, but few;
And he mark'd the course of that foaming horse,
Ere the crest of the knight he knew.

"All hail and welcome, William, he said,
For thine arm shall set me free !
In rest and rout, in weal and woe,
Thou still hast stood by me ....

"That proud baron, the bold Lord John,
Has rung his bugle horn,
And his rebel train have met on the plain,
Since the dawning of the morn;

"Earl William, you must ride, this night,
To his castle on the hill;
And count that train, as they sleep on the plain,
But hold thee close and still ....

"You must ride, ride on, by grass and stone,
Where the cross stands high on the lea ;
You will tarry there, and repeat a prayer,
It may not waved be !

"When you leave the cross of the holy St. Mark,
Beware of the marsh of sedge !
And utter thrice the name in Heav'n !
Ere you reach the water's edge :...

"And God thee speed, for thy king in need !"
Earl William bent his knee !
"May Heav'n me requite, if I fail this night
To bring that list to thee."...

O he hath rode till the sun declin'd,
He hath rode by hill and brake;
Ere he saw, on the right, the dank marsh weed,
And beyond, the stagnant lake ....

As he pass'd by the cross of the holy St. Mark,
He remember'd not to pray;
And he dar'd not turn his horse again,
'Twas the closing of the day....

The sun now sunk, and a stream of fire
Shone still on the saddle-bow;
And the gath'ring blast was coming fast;
With many a mile to go!

Earl William's courser rear'd and rear'd,
As they pass'd by the marsh of sedge !
Earl William's courser rear'd and rear'd,
Till they reach'd the water's edge.

Then all at once it stopp'd and still'd,
Save that it shook from knee to knee!
Earl William was wroth, and spurr'd and spurr'd,
But it might not moved be!

'Twas then he felt his heart beat hard,
And he thought on the sacred creed,
He lean'd his breast on the high lance-rest,
By the mane of his tranced steed.

A wind blew up,...it was sultry warm,
It shook the saddle-bow !
But not one hair of that bristly mane
Was waved to and fro ....

Earl William sprung from his stiff'ning steed,
As it stood by the water's edge,...
On the lake he gaz'd, and round and round,
And all by the marsh of sedge ;

When rushing quick, that wind came by,
And he felt his armour shake ;
And it whirl'd in wreaths for five feet round
The middle of the lake.

All white with foam, like a tossing sea,
Did that spot of water boil ;
But, without that bound, and all around,
It was glassy-smooth and still ....

With a moveless belt, that, heaving deep,
The stagnant waves inclose ;
When the turbid waters rent in twain,
And an armed knight arose !

In coal-black iron he was brac'd,
From the shoulder-tip to the heel !
All but the cross-belts at his knee,
And they were burnish'd steel:

On the waves he stood, that foamed high
O'er his helm of the silver pale ;
But not one drop of water wet
The meshes of his mail !

With couched lance one step he made,
From that whirling pool to the brink;
And the spot of earth, where his foot came down,
Did wither up and shrink:

Earl William mark'd the with'ring grass,
As the water-knight drew near;
His coal-black mail and the silver pale,
And he grasp'd his trusty spear ....

On a mound of earth he held him firm,
And he wav'd his arm of might ;
But not one pass of that massy spear
Could reach the iron knight:

It bended back like an autumn leaf,
He might not touched be !
That sword of proof, it wav'd in the wind
Like a branch of the willow tree !...

Earl William felt his palsied arm,
And the vital heat decay;
And the dull, dead eye of his courser nigh ....
He turn'd his eyes away !

Again there came that whistling gale
From the marsh and stagnant shore:
On the blasted ground it whizzed round,
Earl William mov'd no more !....

The form, o'er which that gale hath pass'd,
Will never life retain !
The eye, that hath seen the water-knight,
Will never move again ....

The hunters pass Earl William's gate,
Where the warder's horn had been !
The hunters pass Earl William's hall,
And all is still within:

They have coursed wide by the river's side,
And all by the marsh of sedge ;
But that waveless lake they cannot search,
Nor the bulrush on its edge.



Anne Bannerman


Anne Bannerman's other poems:
  1. The Penitent's Confession
  2. The Festival of St. Magnus the Martyr
  3. The Prophetess of the Oracle of Seam
  4. The Prophecy of Merlin
  5. Basil


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