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The Chapel In Lyonesse

IR

NA.

All day long and every day,

From Christmas-Eve to Whit-Sunday,

Within that Chapel-aisle I lay,  And no man came a-near.

Naked to the waist was I,

And deep within my breast did lie,

Though no man any blood could spy,  The truncheon of a spear.

No meat did ever pass my

Those days.  Alas! the sunlight

From off the gilded parclose, dips,  And night comes on apace.

My arms lay back behind my head;

Over my raised-up knees was spreadA samite cloth of white and red;  A rose lay on my face.

Many a time I tried to shout;

But as in dream of battle-rout,

My frozen speech would not well out;  I could not even weep.

With inward sigh I see the

Fade off the pillars one by one,

My heart faints when the day is done,  Because I cannot sleep.

Sometimes strange thoughts pass through my head;

Not like a tomb is this my bed,

Yet oft I think that I am dead;  That round my tomb is writ,"Ozana of the hardy heart,  Knight of the Table Round,

Pray for his soul, lords, of your part;  A true knight he was found."Ah! me,

I cannot fathom it.[He

IR

AD.

All day long and every day,

Till his madness pass'd away,

I watch'd Ozana as he lay  Within the gilded screen.

All my singing moved him not;

As I sung my heart grew hot,

With the thought of Launcelot  Far away,

I ween.

So I went a little

From out the chapel, bathed my

In the stream that runs apace  By the churchyard wall.

There I pluck'd a faint wild rose,

Hard by where the linden grows,

Sighing over silver rows  Of the lilies tall.

I laid the flower across his mouth;

The sparkling drops seem'd good for drouth;

He smiled, turn'd round towards the south,  Held up a golden tress.

The light smote on it from the west;

He drew the covering from his breast,

Against his heart that hair he prest;  Death him soon will bless.

IR

RS.

I enter'd by the western door;  I saw a knight's helm lying there:

I raised my eyes from off the floor,  And caught the gleaming of his hair.

I stept full softly up to him;  I laid my chin upon his head;

I felt him smile; my eyes did swim,  I was so glad he was not dead.

I heard Ozana murmur low,  "There comes no sleep nor any love."But Galahad stoop'd and kiss'd his brow:  He shiver'd;

I saw his pale lips move.

IR

NA.

There comes no sleep nor any love;  Ah me!  I shiver with delight.

I am so weak I cannot move;  God move me to thee, dear, to-night!

Christ help!  I have but little wit:

My life went wrong;

I see it writ,"Ozana of the hardy heart,  Knight of the Table Round,

Pray for his soul, lords, on your part;  A good knight he was found."Now I begin to fathom it.[He

IR

RS.

Galahad sits dreamily;

What strange things may his eyes see,

Great blue eyes fix'd full on me?

On his soul,

Lord, have mercy.

IR

AD.

Ozana, shall I pray for thee?  Her cheek is laid to thine;

No long time hence, also I see  Thy wasted fingers

Within the tresses of her hair  That shineth gloriously,

Thinly outspread in the clear air  Against the jasper sea.

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William Morris

William Morris (24 March 1834 – 3 October 1896) was a British textile designer, poet, novelist, translator, and socialist activist associated wi…

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