THE BALLAD OF CHAUS

THE BALLAD OF CHAUS

I

Chaus lay himself down Fully dressed in the Hall, To be at the ready For good Arthur’s call -

II

Chaus was a youth Of noble descent, For to act as his Squire King Arthur had sent -

III

Long was the journey And perilous too Chaus tried not to sleep But what could he do?...

IV

Chaus dreams that he wakes And Arthur is gone Chaus follows on horse Through the night and gloom -

V

Chaus comes to a Chapel In a dark wood Where white sepulchres In the moonlight brood -

VI

Chaus enters the Chapel, A Knight lies within Stretched out on a bier; A corse pale and thin -

VII

Two tapers flicker In candlesticks gold, (This is the legend As I have been told)

One at the head And one at the feet To honour the dead, As is right and meet VIII

IX

Chaus hesitates The gold gleams bright Chaus takes out one candle Extinguished its light!

X

Grasps the gold stick With a shuddering sigh, Thrusts it down quick Between hose and thigh;

XI

Creeps from the Chapel Among the white tombs But there in his pathway a stranger looms.

XII

“Have you met Arthur?” Chaus stammering asks. But the dark stranger Will not let him pass.

XIII

“No. I’ve met Chaus!” The stranger does grin. “A traitor and thief!” Chaus quails within.

XIV

He fingers the candlestick Pressed to his thigh; Will not give it up. “Return it or die!”

XV

Chaus holds his ground. The stranger replied With the thrust of a sharp knife Deep in Chaus’ side ...

XVI

Chaus woke with a cry. He was in Arthur’s Hall! He had dreamt the whole thing. Yet why did he call?

XVII

Why did his fingers Feel stickiness slide Between the knife-blade Which was still in his side?

XVIII

Why did his life’s blood Gush over his hand Like a wet-dream That no waking can end?

XIX

What was that dead weight Cold on his thigh? Arthur came running, Hearing his cry.

XX

Chaus lay there dying, His life ebbing fast From the deep wound Where the knife stuck fast,

XXI

The precious gold candlestick Clasped in his hand Arthur leant over him Ere his life end,

XXII

Called a Confessor, Absolved from his sin Smiling to Purgatory Chaus’ soul did win,

XXIII

Votive masses had said For that squire frail, Told the boy’s father The marvellous tale,

XXIV

And with his consent To the church of Saint Paul The candlestick gave, To be seen there by all,

XXV

That men might remember Down to this day How dreams are the one truth Which none can gainsay.