Silverpoints — Le Chevalier Malheur

LE CHEVALIER MALHEUR

Grim visor'd cavalier!

Rides silently MISCHANCE.

Stabbed is my dying heart of his unpitying lance.

My poor hearts blood leaps forth, a single crimson jet.

The hot sun licks it up where petals pale are wet.

Deep shadow seals my sight, one shriek my lips has fed.

With a wrung, sullen shudder my poor heart is dead.

The cavalier dismounts;

and, kneeling on the ground, His finger iron-mailed he thrusts into the wound.

Suddenly, at the freezing touch, the iron smart, At once within me bursts a new, a noble heart.

Suddenly, as the steel into the wound is pressed, A heart all beautiful and young throbs in my breast.

Trembling, incredulous I sat; but ill at ease, As one who, in a holy trance, strange visions sees.

While the good cavalier, remounted on his horse, Left me a parting nod as he retook his course, And shouted to me (still I hear his cries): "Once only can the miracle avail.

--Be wise!"