The Blind Harper.

And thus it came my feet were led To wizard walls that hairy hung Old as their rock the moss made dead; And, like a ditch of fire flung Around it, uncouth flowers red Thrust spur and fang and tongue. And here I harped. Did dead men list? Or was it hollow hinges gnarred Huge, iron scorn in donjon-twist? And when I thought a face sword-scarred Would curse me, lo! a woman kissed At me hands ringed and starred. And so I sang; for she had leaned Rare beauty to me, dark and tall; I sang of Love, whose Court is queened Of Ali'nor the virginal, Nor saw how rolled on me a fiend Wolf-eyeballs from the wall. Oh, how I sang! until she laughed Red lips that made lute harmony; I sang of knights who fought and quaffed To Love's own paragon, Marie - Nor saw the suzerain whose shaft Was bowed and bent on me. And I had harped until she wept; But when I sang of Ermengarde Of Anjou, - where her Court is kept By brave, by beauty, and by bard, - She turned a raven there and swept Me, like a fury, 'ward. A bleeding beak had pierced my sight; A crimson claw each cheek had lined; One glimpse: wild walls of threatening night Heaped raven battlements behind A moat of blazing serpents bright - And then I wandered blind.