THE LORD OF NEUFCHATEL.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XX, Issue 4, 30 October 1891, Page 23

THE LORD OF NEUFCHATEL.

This tale, rehearsed five hundred years ago At Yule-tide unto William of Hainault, By that high Lord of Ostrevant, whose name Is blazjned in John Froißsart's book of fame, With mention of great deeds of prowess done, What time their victory in Frießland won, Both camps at Holland with the Dutch folk lay, I sing again to make you glad to-day.

Steadily blew the drear December blast Bene&th low skies with gray clouds overcast, Until, as day waned unto eventide, And like some houseless waif the cold wind cried, The pent-up storm, half-sleet, half snow, came down. Shrouding with white the bard road, bare and brown, That stretched o'er many a hill and poplar plain, Through many a thorpe and town of fair Lorraine, Northward and east until it neared the sea At Neufchatel in warlike Normandy. Now, there the broad way turned, and rising, wound Up to the rocky fastness, castle-crowned, Where John the Knight of Neufchatel held sway O'er some starved lands that ■tretched a league away.

Brave was this Lot d ; so bold that all folk said The very fiend himself held him in dread. And so they called his hold the black hawk's nest, Whence he, the hawk, on many a lawless quest Of bloody rapine bent, would sally forth To rob the Flemish merchants journeying north To sell their precious stuffs along the coast. Now, while the storm was at its uttermost And the black knight then three full days away, Having fared forth, as was his wont, for prey, Three begging friars, as it strangely fell, Climbed the sheer slope that led to Neufchatel And craved for hospice ?t the castle gate. " God save you, holy men ; you travel late," Cried out the gray, old seneschil, a man But poorly mated with the castellan, For that bis heart knew pity and could feel Sorrow or joy at tale of woe or weal. '• How now so late and on what fooli h quest Come you thus praying to the back hawk's nest? ' : Whereat the begging friars answer made : '" We journey to Dieppe ; but now delayed By thid dire str'ui, s_-ek hicUk fjr a spici For Camt'a dear di'-sa, w us 3 birfi draws ni^'i ap ica." Then answer gave the gray old seneschal : " Cold welcome waits yoa ia my master's hall. Bethink you oE th.it friir wnj, mjiths ajo \V~a3 driven heiio wi h many a lasty blow? Certes, I grieve to apei'-c yo i n this wis^ ; Bat I any not tb ; b ick L >rl's vjv I despise ; And he by UhrigJs rj 1 woua la hit i swjru t j m±, That priest or p p e' Ue ne'or dhilL g l^stid b 3 In Neufehitel'd gray t >wjrs —Go I spje 1 you. well, And send yoa gentler ho*t th 11 N -at jhatal," Then turned the monks to go ; when lo I there came A henchman from Mane, the castle dame, To bid them gladly welcome — This Marie,

A high-born lady of fair Picardy, Wife to this warlike lord of lessor worth, As ofttimes happens oa this sorry earth, Lived, wasting the wlite glory of h^r grace, Lovely and hly-hke in this lone place, And yet, withal, most patient. She bad heard The meek petition of the monks, and stirred To saintly charity like some pweet nun Whose life is happie3t in service done, And bjlder made, withal, for that it Beemed Her lord woalil late return that week, had deemel It meet that housing to the monks be given, For the tweet sAc of the Lord Christ in Heavea Now, here ws s God'd 'Urecting hand, I wis ; No deed, in his name done, sh-ill gu amisa Fven in this roor world so void of right. Sir John ot Neufchatel returned tint ni^ht, Drunk with the gladness of a triumph won, And hearing of the deed his wife had done. Laughed loud and long for very merriment, Vowing himself in very wise content.

" Perdie," he cried, " and by my soul, sweet dame. My heart dares nut deny thy gentle claim. One deed of good I'll do before I die ; Mayhap some grace may come to me thereby. But hold ! my mercy 'shall ba merry too, It I this most unwonted thing mast do. Ho ! henchman, say thou to the seneschal To house the friara in my charger's stall ; Hang trappings there ; the night wind whistles keen And bring fresh straw, well shaken, crisp and clean, " The King Ohrist lay on straw when he was born Then why should shiftless monks or friars shorn Sleep better than their blessed Master slept I Bo was it done. The friars were housed and kept. Now one of these three monks, by name Pierre, Grieved at such wicked blasphemy, made prayer, With many tears that fell upon the straw, That this lewd Lord who held not God in awe, Might yet find gracious mercy ere his death. G jd's ways are not as man's," the prophet saith. Ten years went by ; and John as folks said well Was still the lawless lord of Neafchatel ; Save that his humour bettered day by day, Since la belle dame Marie had passed away. One morn it came to pass as Yule duew nigh,* Men went to see a solemn mystery, Holden byjnany a learned monk and priest, At old Dieppe, in honour of the feast. " God's ways are not as man's," the prophet eaith. All things in life in love He ordereth — All things—and we see not nor understand This myseery was marvellously planned, Folks said. And John the Lord of.Neufchatel, * For what strange cause nor man nor child might tell, Rode forth to old Dieppe to see the play. Moodily sang the wind on that same day, As he rode back to towered Neufchatel, Humming in broken bars half audible, A sad church tune and musing on what had been. Tbat night be dreamed, conjuring up the scene. Life-like and wonirous fair to look upon, Which he, when at Dieppe, ten hours agone, Had viewed —theiMother-Maid, the lowbuilt shed' Saint Joseph and the Christ-Child's manger bed. Shepherds and kings and all ; and as he gazed, Full of strange memories and much amazed, The Lord Christ looked at him with soft, mild eyes, Full of divine compassion and surprise, Then fled from him he ever following on. Under the spent stars eastward toward the dawn, Both went, Christ and the Knight ; and thus they passed Into the city glorious and vast, Jerusalem, where all man's deeds are weighed. There did the rough Lord, pale and sore afraid, Wait for his doom ; there too, by Christ there stood. Michael with the dread scales that weigh all good. And in one pan that dipped far down lay Foul deeds of violence done day by day In God's despite ; and in the other naught. Vainly his guardian angel trembling sought, Pressing his hand, to bring the light pan down ; When lo 1 some faded straw, all crisp and brown, Dawed with a poor mmk's tears, ny Alary cast Into the pan, swung back the ssaje atjaat. "Oh ruth of God I" cried waking Neufchatel. What wonder if, as monkish writers toll, He died a holy friar in his cell. This story told five hundred years ago At Yule-tide unto William of Hainault, By that high Lord of Ostrevant, whose name Is blazoned in John Froissart's book of fame, I've sung again for you in my poor way, Striving to make you somewhat glad to-day. Christ make us wise, and may we ponder well, The story of Sir John of Neufchatel 1