PART I. THERE was in all the world of France No singer half so sweet: The first note of his viol brought A crowd into the street. And as he sat in Avignon With princes at their wine, In all that lusty company Was none so fresh and fine. His kirtle's of the Arras-blue His cap of pearls and green, His golden curls fall tumbling round The bonniest face I've seen: But hark! the lords are laughing loud And lusty in their mirth For each has pledged his own lady The fairest dame on earth. "Now, hey, Rudel! You singer, Rudel! Say, who's the fairest lass? I'll wager many a lady's eyes Have been your looking-glass!" His lady's portrait each has ta'en, And dashed it on the board. Then lightly laugheth Geoffrey Rudel And counts the treasured hoard. He lifts them up and lays them down With fingers nimble and deft; He lifts them up and lays them down Till only one is left. There's only a twist of silver About a parchment skin, That's lain so close against a heart The colour's worn and thin. There's only a twist of foreign wire There's only a faded face... What ails, what ails Geoffrey Rudel? He has fallen from his place. He's fallen plumb across the board Without a word or sign; The golden curls that hide his face Are dabbled in the wine. He's fallen numb and dumb as death, While all the princes stare -- Then up one old Crusading Knight Arose, and touched his hair: "Rudel, Rudel, Geoffrey Rudel, Give me her picture back! Without her face against my breast The world grows dim and black. "Rudel, Rudel, Geoffrey Rudel, Give back my life to me! Or I will kill you, Geoffrey Rudel And take it desperately!" Then straightway awoke and rose Rudel -- And hey, but he was white! Thin and fierce his lips were set; His eyes were cold and bright. The picture's in his left hand, The dagger's in the right. Stabbed to the core, upon the floor Fell down that stranger-knight. Rang loud the swords in the scabbards, The voices loud and high -- "Let pass, let pass!" cried out Rudel, "Let pass before he die -- " The lords fell back in grim array Around the dying man: "For pity and pardon let him kneel And pray, if so he can!" But never a word said Geoffrey Save only, "Who is she?" One moment smiled the dying man -- "The Lady of Tripoli!" He opened wide his sea-blue eyes, Dead, in a face of stone.... Out to the windy dark Rudel, Unhindered, rushed alone. PART II. "Hew the timbers of sandal wood And planks of ivory, Rear up the shining masts of gold And let us put to sea. "Sew the sails with a silken thread That all are silken too, Sew them with scarlet pomegranates Upon a sheet of blue. "Rig the ship with a rope of gold And let us put to sea. And now goodbye to good Marseilles And hey for Tripoli!" Up and down the golden ship That's sailing to the south, Rudel goes singing to himself, A smile about his mouth. And up the masts and on the bridge The sailors stop to hear: There's not a lark in the May-heaven Can sing so high and clear! There's not a thrush or a nightingale Can sing so full and glad. Yet there's a soul that sighs i' the song, And the soul is wise and sad. Rudel goes singing to himself As he looks across the sea -- "Lady," he says, "I'll sing at last, Please God, in Tripoli." For pale across the wan water A shining wonder grows, As pale as on the murky night The dawn of pearl and rose. And dim across the flood so grey A city 'gins to rise, A pale, enchanted Eastern place, White under radiant skies. O domes and spires, O minarets, O heavy-headed drowse Of nodding palms, O strangling rose Sweet in the cypress boughs! "Heave-to, O mariners, heave ashore As swiftly as may be. Go, now, my stripling page, along The streets of Tripoli, And say Rudel, Rudel has come -- And say that I am he." An hour's gone by, an hour or two, But still we're far from night, When lo! there glides along the quay A lady like a light. You could not tell how tall she was So heaved the light and fell; The shining of enchanted gems, The waving of a veil, She drifts along the golden deck And stands before Rudel. But as she bends to kiss Rudel He starts to meet her eyes, That glitter in her ancient skin Like Fire that never dies. But as she bends to clasp Rudel, He trembles 'neath her hair, Ravelled in many a snowy ring About her shoulders bare. And as she calls his name aloud, Her voice is thin and strange As night-winds in the standing reeds When the moon's about to change. She's opened wide her bridal arms, She's bent her wintry face; -- What ails, what ails Geoffrey Rudel? He has fallen from his place. He's fallen plumb across the board Without a word or sign, His golden locks that stream so bright, Are dabbled in the wine. He's opened wide his dazzled eyes, Dead in a face of stone. 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