4 posts tagged “medieval”
I found some really beautiful medieval paintings by Edmund Blair Leighton. I think "The Accolade" is my favorite! I want that as a poster. I also like "God Speed!" though. Actually I just really like the dresses. ;) And there's another Tristan and Isolde painting (I already posted a Waterhouse one). Lovely!
It was an English ladye bright,
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,)
And she would marry a Scottish knight,
For Love will still be lord of all.
Blithely they saw the rising sun
When he shone fair on Carlisle wall;
But they were sad ere day was done,
Though Love was still the lord of all.
Her sire gave brooch and jewel fine,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall;
Her brother gave but a flask of wine,
For ire that Love was lord of all.
For she had lands both meadow and lea,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,
And he swore her death, ere he would see
A Scottish knight the lord of all.
That wine she had not tasted well
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,)
When dead, in her true love's arms, she fell,
For Love was still the lord of all!
He pierced her brother to the heart,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall:--
So perish all would true love part
That Love may still be lord of all!
And then he took the cross divine,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,
And died for her sake in Palestine;
So Love was still the lord of all.
Now all ye lovers, that faithful prove,
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,)
Pray for their souls who died for love,
For Love shall still be lord of all!
--Ballad from "The Lay of the Last Minstrel" (1805) by Sir Walter Scott
O WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms, | |
| Alone and palely loitering? | |
| The sedge has wither’d from the lake, | |
| And no birds sing. | |
II. O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms! | 5 |
| So haggard and so woe-begone? | |
| The squirrel’s granary is full, | |
| And the harvest’s done. | |
III. I see a lily on thy brow | |
| With anguish moist and fever dew, | 10 |
| And on thy cheeks a fading rose | |
| Fast withereth too. | |
IV. I met a lady in the meads, | |
| Full beautiful—a faery’s child, | |
| Her hair was long, her foot was light, | 15 |
| And her eyes were wild. | |
V. I made a garland for her head, | |
| And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; | |
| She look’d at me as she did love, | |
| And made sweet moan. | 20 |
VI. I set her on my pacing steed, | |
| And nothing else saw all day long, | |
| For sidelong would she bend, and sing | |
| A faery’s song. | |
VII. She found me roots of relish sweet, | 25 |
| And honey wild, and manna dew, | |
| And sure in language strange she said— | |
| “I love thee true.” | |
VIII. She took me to her elfin grot, | |
| And there she wept, and sigh’d fill sore, | 30 |
| And there I shut her wild wild eyes | |
| With kisses four. | |
IX. And there she lulled me asleep, | |
| And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide! | |
| The latest dream I ever dream’d | 35 |
| On the cold hill’s side. | |
X. I saw pale kings and princes too, | |
| Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; | |
| They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci | |
| Hath thee in thrall!” | 40 |
XI. I saw their starved lips in the gloam, | |
| With horrid warning gaped wide, | |
| And I awoke and found me here, | |
| On the cold hill’s side. | |
XII. And this is why I sojourn here, | 45 |
| Alone and palely loitering, | |
| Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake, | |
| And no birds sing. - John Keats, 1819 |
