The Birth Of The Ivy
The Birth of the Ivy
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Many and many a year ago
(I tell the tale as ’twas told to me)
A lady lived in her own proud hall
A lady of high degree
And many a knight came wooing her
For stately and fair was she
The fairest, statellest flower that bloomed
Where the Rhine ran down to the sea
And one of the knights she loved full well
And he bowed low at her feet,
“I’ve wooed thee for three long years,” he said,
“Now when wilt thou wed me, sweet?”
But she with a light laugh answered,
“Walt” “I will wait one year,” said he
“And then I will come and claim your hand
Where the Rhine runs down to the sea”
Away to the holy wars he hicd
To fight with the Moslem horde,
And the whole land rang with the praise of him
And the might of his good sword
After & twelvemonth back he came
And again at her feet knelt he
“Now thou wilt wed me, lady fair
Where the Rhine rune down to the sea?”
But her pride than her love was stronger still
And she lifted her haughty head
“Walt longer He who patiently waits
In never a loser” she said
The knight rose up with a stifled sigh
But never a prayer prayed he
And, mounting his steed, he rode away
Where the Rhine runs down to the sea
The lady frowned, and the lady wept
In her love and wrath and pain
She had not thought he would thus obey
And ride from her side again
Then twice the seasons came and went
With bird and blossom and bee,
With the summer rose and the winter snows
Where the Rhine runs down to the sea
And then again to his lady’s bower
Strode the knight with a ringing tread
“Two years I’ve waited patiently”
Were the only words he said
But still with a pride that o’ermastered love
Wait longer answered she
“If I wait I’ll wait forever” he said
Where the Rhine runs down to the sea
Then wait forever” she coldly sald
And she drew her white hands away,
Bure he would fall at her feet again,
For his lady’s grace to pray
But never another word he spoke
And never & sign made he,
As he sprang to his saddle and rode away
Where the Rhine runs down to the sea
How dragged the slow months, one by one
The lady, in sore distress
Went night and day in her lonely bower
Bewalling her naughtiness
One morning she summoned her trusty page
“Speed over the hills,” said she
“Tell my lover I say come back to me
Where the Rhine runs down to the sea”
But the knight caine not, nor sent he word
Save this one short mesage “Wait”
And the sun rose up, and the sun went down,
And the flowers died, soon or late
At length she summoned her page again
And again to him said she:
“Go tell my knight that I wait for him
Where the Rhine runs down to the sea”
The page came back, and he deffed his hat
But this was the word he bore:
“He lowes nothing who patiently waits”
And not one syllable more
“He remembers well,” the lady cried
And in wan despair lived she
Two more long, desolate years alone,
Where the Rhine runs down to the sea
“Now go to my lord once more,” she prayed
“And tell him my death is near
Tell him I wait bis face to see,
That I wait his voice to hear”
The pare came back with a lagging pace,
“Oh, what does he say? cried she
“Dear lads, he tells you to walt for aye
Where the Rhine rung down to the sea”