The Geste of Duke Jocelyn

Jeffery Farnol

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• Publié par: nuthong
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 34
• Langue: English

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Title: The Geste of Duke JocelynAuthor: Jeffery Farnol
Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8165] [Yes, we
are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This
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Edition: 10
Language: English
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG
EBOOK THE GESTE OF DUKE JOCELYN ***
Produced by Ted Garvin & the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team
THE GESTE OF
DUKE JOCELYN
byJeffery Farnol
with illustrations in color by
Eric Pape
Copyright, 1920,
BT LITTLE, BBOWN, AND COMPANY.
All rights reserved Published September, 1920
Norwood Press
Set up and electrotyped by J. S. Cushing Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
My GILLIAN, thou child that budding woman art
For whom to-day and yesterday lie far apart
Already thou, my dear, dost longer dresses wear
And bobbest in most strange, new-fangled ways
thy hair;
Thou lookest on the world with eyes grown
serious
And rul'st thy father with a sway imperious
Particularly as regards his socks and ties
Insistent that each with the other harmonise.
Instead of simple fairy-tales that pleased of yore
Romantic verse thou read'st and novels by the
score
And very oft I've known thee sigh and call them
"stuff"
Vowing of love romantic they've not half enough. Wherefore, like fond and doting parent, I
Will strive this want romantic to supply.
I'll write for thee a book of sighing lover
Crammed with ROMANCE from cover unto cover;
A book the like of which 't were hard to find
Filled with ROMANCE of every sort and kind.
I'll write it as the Gestours wrote of old,
In prose, blank-verse, and rhyme it shall be told.
And GILLIAN—
Some day perhaps, my dear, when you are
grown
A portly dame with children of your own
You'll gather all your troop about your knee
And read to them this Geste I made for thee.
ILLUSTRATIONS
"Nobles of Brocelaunde, salute your Duchess
Yolande"
They saw afar the town of Canalise
"Brave soldier, I do thank thee well!" she sighed
"Hush, poor Motley!" whispered the maid.
With mighty bound, bold Robin leaping came
The long blades whirled and flashed
PRELUDE
Long, long ago when castles grim did frown, When massy wall and gate did 'fend each town;
When mighty lords in armour bright were seen,
And stealthy outlaws lurked amid the green
And oft were hanged for poaching of the deer,
Or, gasping, died upon a hunting spear;
When barons bold did on their rights insist
And hanged or burned all rogues who dared
resist;
When humble folk on life had no freehold
And were in open market bought and sold;
When grisly witches (lean and bony hags)
Cast spells most dire yet, meantime, starved in
rags;
When kings did lightly a-crusading fare
And left their kingdoms to the devil's care—
At such a time there lived a noble knight
Who sweet could sing and doughtily could fight,
Whose lance thrust strong, whose long sword bit
full deep
With darting point or mighty two-edged sweep.
A duke was he, rich, powerful—and yet
Fate had on him a heavy burden set,
For, while a youth, as he did hunt the boar,
The savage beast his goodly steed did gore,
And as the young duke thus defenceless lay,
With cruel tusk had reft his looks away,
Had marred his comely features and so mauled
him
That, 'hind his back, "The ugly Duke" folk called
him—
My daughter GILLIAN interposeth:
GILL: An ugly hero?MYSELF: That is so.
GILL: An ugly hero, father? O, absurd! Whoever of
an "ugly" hero heard?
MYSELF: I'll own, indeed, I've come across but few
—
GILL: But a duke—and ugly! Father, this from you?
MYSELF: My duke is ugly, very, for good reason,
As shall appear in due and proper season!
GILL: I'm sure no one will want to read him then,
For "heroes" all should be most handsome men.
So make him handsome, please, or he won't do.
MYSELF: By heaven, girl—no, plain heroes are too
few!
GILL: Then ev'ry one will leave him on the shelf!
MYSELF: Why, then, I'll read the poor fellow
myself.
GILL: I won't!
MYSELF: Then don't! Though, I might say, since
you're set on it, child, My duke was not so ugly
when he smiled—
GILL: Then make him smile as often as you can.
MYSELF: I might do that, 't is none so bad a plan.GILL: And the lady—she must be a lady fair.
MYSELF: My dear, she's beautiful beyond
compare.
GILL: Why, then—
MYSELF: My pen!
So here and now I do begin
The tale of young Duke Jocelyn,
For critics, schools,
And cramping rules,
Heedless and caring not a pin.
The title here behold
On this fair page enrolled,
In letters big and bold,
As seemeth fit—
To wit:—
FYTTE I
Upon a day, but when it matters not,
Nor where, but mark! the sun was plaguy hot
Falling athwart a long and dusty road
In which same dust two dusty fellows strode.
One was a tall, broad-shouldered, goodly wight
In garb of motley like a jester dight,
Fool's cap on head with ass's ears a-swing,
While, with each stride, his bells did gaily ring;
But, 'neath his cock's-comb showed a face somarred
With cheek, with brow and lip so strangely
scarred
As might scare tender maid or timid child
Unless, by chance, they saw him when he smiled,
For then his eyes, so deeply blue and bright,
Did hold in them such joyous, kindly light,
That sorrow was from heavy hearts beguiled—
This jester seemed less ugly when he smiled.
Here, O my Gill, right deftly, in a trice
I've made him smile and made him do it—twice.
That 't was the Duke of course you've guessed at
once
Since you, I know, we nothing of a dunce.
But, what should bring a duke in cap and bells?
Read on and mark, while he the reason tells.
Now, 'spite of dust and heat, his lute he
strummed,
And snatches of a merry song he hummed,
The while askance full merrily he eyed
The dusty knave who plodded at his side.
A bony fellow, this, and long of limb,
His habit poor, his aspect swart and grim;
His belt to bear a long broad-sword did serve,
His eye was bold, his nose did fiercely curve
Down which he snorted oft and (what is worse)
Beneath his breath gave vent to many a curse.
Whereat the Duke, sly laughing, plucked
lutestring
And thus, in voice melodious did sing: "Sir Pertinax, why curse ye so?
Since thus in humble guise we go
We merry chances oft may know,
Sir Pertinax of Shene."
"And chances woeful, lord, also!"
Quoth Pertinax of Shene.
"To every fool that passeth by
These foolish bells shall testify
That very fool, forsooth, am I,
Good Pertinax of Shene!"
"And, lord, methinks they'll tell no lie!"
Growled Pertinax of Shene.
Then spake the Knight in something of a pet,
"Par Dex, lord Duke—plague take it, how I sweat,
By Cock, messire, ye know I have small lust
Like hind or serf to tramp it i' the dust!
Per De, my lord, a parch-ed pea am I—
I'm all athirst! Athirst? I am so dry
My very bones do rattle to and fro
And jig about within me as I go!
Why tramp we thus, bereft of state and rank?
Why go ye, lord, like foolish mountebank?
And whither doth our madcap journey trend?
And wherefore? Why? And, prithee, to what
end?"
Then quoth the Duke, "See yonder in the green
Doth run a cooling water-brook I ween,
Come, Pertinax, beneath yon shady trees,
And there whiles we do rest outstretched at ease
Thy 'wherefores' and thy 'whys' shall answered