[NSW Poem] A Cherry With No Stone

[Point Man]

I wrote this one as a tribute to some friends in our Middle Ages reenactment group who were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. It's written in a style similar to the 14th century English poet who wrote Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Sir Orfeo, and Pearl. Comments welcome! Be warned: it's looong!

 

Come fifty years, full five times ten,

Had Price and Alice married been

When came the call throughout the land

“Let all who hear, both mean and grand,

Come help us celebrate this fall

And join us in the feasting hall

Where lords and ladies, young and hoar,

Would dine upon the head of boar

With cherries serv’ed as is meet,

In dishes warm, both tart and sweet.

 

“Let gather there both squire and knight

To join the lists, each one to fight

To gain himself the champion’s share

And honour for his lady faire.

And when the tournament be done

The victor, that strong lord who won,

Proclaim to all, both far and near,

Inspir’d he was by maid most dear,

The beauty of whose lovely face

Is equaled only by her grace.

 

“Of artists should no lack be found,

For there upon the feasting ground,”

Declared our grand and noble host,

“If God allows we make our boast

To have among Earth’s craftsmen fine

The best of those skilled in design

Of wares, and art, and minstrelsy,

Then bid them come for all to see

Their craft, and let the prize be sought

For work of art or craft best wrought.

 

“Let tales be told. Let songs be played.

Let joyous merriment be made.

And when, at last the time is come

For all to head back to their home

Let all who come this day to dine

With us in company most fine

Proclaim to all who heeded not

The call to come to feast, ‘I wot

No better time by lass or lad

Was in this Kingdom ever had.’

 

Now therefore do I bring this lay

To celebrate this wondrous day.

For how could we be so remiss

To honour not the wedded bliss

Of such a fine and lovely pair,

Our Baron and his Lady Faire?

And more the negligence would be

(Let all blame fall on only me)

If left untold the tale remained

Of how young Price his Alice gained

And how those names they came to own.

For though it be not widely known

Please listen and it shall be shown

This love, which of loves stands alone,

Came from a cherry with no stone.

 

 

 

 

In years ago, two score eleven,

When bright and shining as in heaven

The morning dawned, and with it brought

The fairest day that God e’er wrought,

A wondrous thing to say the least,

For ‘twas that day All Hallows Feast,

Then Lord Antonio did wake.

And when he sat his fast to break

He thought, “Let no man ever say

I hunted not this All Saints Day.”

 

Then gathered he his servants near

His side and told them strong and clear,

“On days as this the hunting grounds

Call men, so go and loose the hounds.

The horses saddle right and good.

For hunt I would, and by the Rood,

No heart shall on this day escape

Its fate, and that, I make no jape,

So long as God may make me able

Shall be to end up at my table.

 

Obeying then their lord they went

And gathered the accoutrement

That needed for the hunt would be.

To slay the game he carried three

Spears sharp and gleaming bright, one bow

Of yew, the best that man may know.

The bridle on his horse in place,

A noble beast of Arab race,

With twelve strong men at arms he rode

And took his leave from his abode.

 

The keen-nosed hounds soon found the scent

And, baying, full pell-mell they went

Down trails so crooked and so narrow

No chance there was to shoot an arrow.

Through thicket close and choked with weeds,

Still huntsmen followed on their steeds

In valley deep and over hill.

Then all at once the noise was still.

The barking of the hounds was stayed;

Antonio was sore dismayed.

 

“What means,” quoth he, “this silence drear?

For ne’er on Earth did aught bring fear

Upon my hounds, nor did they break

Pursuit once gained,” so Anton spake.

“A beast must be the source of dread,”

His huntsmen cried. Lord Anton said,

“If beast it was that made them still,

Come, good my lords, let’s climb yon hill

To see what beast could be so fell

The baying of my hounds to quell.”

And when at last their way they made

To crest of hill, they reached a glade

Where sat the hounds beside a maid.

On beauty such as she displayed

no mortal eyes had ne’er been laid.

 

 

 

 

When Lord Antonio espied

The maid his jaw dropped open wide.

Her face like alabaster white,

Unblemished, perfect in his sight,

Lay framed by tresses bearing hue

Of burnished cherry wood—‘tis true—

In tiny ringlets falling down.

From shapely shoulders hung her gown.

As smooth and white as foam on wave

Her beauty made his heart her slave.

 

Reason came not; his speech was stalled.

Antonio was so enthralled

No more than stand there could he do.

He gazed at her, and then he knew

That he must go and say to her,

“Sweet maid of beauty rare and pure,

Please come with me, stay by my side,

And marry me and be my bride.

For I had liever lose my life

Than take thee not to be my wife.

 

“My Lord,” quoth she, “how can this be?

Thou know’st me not, nor I know thee.

How could I ever think to wed

A man like thee? Thou art well bred—

For I can see that thou art grand

With servants ever at thy hand—

While I am from a family mean.

No castle have I ever seen.

Please make for thee an equal yoke

With someone worthy,” thus she spoke.

 

Anton then said, “Thou dost me wrong

To think my love be not so strong

That I care not from whence you came,

Nor what your rank or family name.

Those things mean naught to me, my dear.

I love but thee, so have no fear.

If name it be that keepeth thou

Declaring not thy wedding vow

To name thee “noble” I delight;

By “Alice” shalt thou now be hight.

 

Sweet Alice then to him replied,

“To evermore be by your side

And live with you as man and wife

Would bring great joy into my life.

For I can tell thou lovest me,

And, by the Rood, so I do thee.

Yet, wed thee now, that I dare not.

For it has ever been my lot

Before I pledge a man my troth

I must fulfill this sacred oath.

While on his deathbed he did tarry

My father, guarded, weak and wary,

Said, “Promise me ere me you bury

To prove his worth the man you marry

Must bring to you a stoneless cherry.

 

 

 

 

“A cherry with no stone?” said he.

“A cherry with no stone,” said she.

“Though difficult may be the task,

One thing I crave, one thing I ask:

To this same glade come one year hence

And prove to me your excellence.

If you can bring me then this prize

By any means, by any wise,

My promise then fulfilled will be

And I shall pledge my troth to thee.

 

Antonio to her replied,

“Whate’er may come, whate’er betide

This promise now to thee I make—

God strike me down if word I break—

I’ll place into thy hand this thing

Of which you speak, and then my ring

I’ll place upon that lovely hand

As for the priest we two shall stand.

And we shall live in wedded bliss.

Come, let us seal it with a kiss.

 

He kissed her then and took his leave

Although it caused his heart to grieve.

Forgotten was the hunting trip

Once he had tasted of her lips.

Back home he went, and for her pined

All winter long, out of his mind.

He could not think; he could not reason.

How could he bring so late in season

A stoneless cherry to this maid,

If such a thing God ever made?

 

When springtime came and filled the trees

With blossoms that the heart doth please

Antonio went on his quest

Through north and south, from east to west,

To seek the tree, if such be known,

That groweth cherries with no stone.

He climbed the tops of mountains high

Where air is rare and eagles cry.

He searched the vales where rivers wind.

Still, what he sought he did not find.

 

From showr’s of spring to summer’s heat

Each day his searching would repeat.

But each day, like the one before,

To his frustration added more.

Still, kept he Alice in his mind

And went out ev’ry morn to find

That prize which would her hand him gain.

Endure these hardships? He would fain

If by such trials he might secure

A wife so lovely and so pure.

But when a chill crept in the air

And come the day was to prepare

To meet next morn his lady faire

He fell into a deep despair

And lifted up this humble prayer.

 

 

 

“O Lord of all the heav’nly host,

In whom alone I make my boast,

Our Father, of all kings the King,

Whose glory makes the angels sing

Glad Hallelujahs—Praise the Lord!—

O Prince of Peace, Eternal Word

Who brings us everlasting life

And freedom from this earthly strife

To Thee, O Lord, I humbly bow

And ask that Thou would hear me now.

 

“For all my sins confess I must.

For I have often placed my trust

In things of man and not of God.

So kneel I down here in this sod

And beg forgiveness of Thee, Lord.

I pray no record hast Thou stored

Of all the times I heeded not

The good commands of Him who bought

My soul by purchase of his blood,

Which stained the ground in crimson flood.

 

“I pray, forgive ingratitude

That I have shown, for by the Rood,

Though I have much to thank Thee for,

I always ask Thee, Lord, for more.

Most often, Lord I fail to give

The proper thanks that I can live

In blest assurance of Thy love,

Which makes Thee look down from above

And mercy take on Adam’s race,

Although he seeketh not Thy face.

 

“I thank Thee, Lord, for all this list,

Though, surely, many will be missed:

For raiment, shelter, welcome friends;

A mother’s love that never ends;

The beauty of the flow’rs in Spring;

For birds, which joyfully do sing;

For sunsets, violet, orange and red;

For honey served on fresh, hot bread;

And, lastly, Lord of heav’n above,

Thank You that I have tasted love.

 

“This taste, with which I was so blest,

Sustained me on this year-long quest.

But ever after filled with sorrow

My life would be if, on the morrow,

I come my true love for to meet

The quest she gave me incomplete

And bearing in my hands no fruit,

Thus ending all my vain pursuit.

So now, my Lord, I thee implore

To grant Thy servant one thing more:

If Alice I am meant to marry

Please help me find this stoneless cherry.

I cannot from this quest now vary.

For well You know that I have nary

A moment left with which to tarry.

 

 

 

 

He said “Amen;” his feet he took.

Then came a sound from by a brook.

He saw there such a wondrous sight

It filled his heart with great delight:

A crowd of faeries dancing ‘round

A hole there in the rocky ground.

He knew then where to find this cherry.

Its home must be the land of Faerie!

And then dispersed the faerie din.

Lord Anton went and entered in.

 

He walked for miles there in the dark

Without a torch, nor yet a spark.

Then stepped he out into the light.

Many a strange and curious sight

Was there to greet his wond’ring eye.

Of all the things he did espy

No man could make a complete list.

‘Twould folly be, e’en if I whist.

Of adventures that to him befell

A few of these I now can tell.

 

He entered into valley green,

The lushest he had ever seen.

Before him kingly castle stood,

A sturdy structure not of wood,

But gleaming gemstones, and of gold,

A sight most wondrous to behold.

A river flowed beside it there

Of water clear and pure as air.

He saw as down he knelt to drink

The greatest sight of all, I think.

 

Behind the castle, by the spring

From which the river flowed, this thing:

In garden well and neatly groomed

A cherry tree, and yet it bloomed!

Young Anton answer had at last.

His year-long quest was almost past.

He went then straight to castle gate

And knocked three times; he could not wait.

He told the porter, “I would seek

This castle’s lord, with him to speak.

 

The porter, he then quickly brought

Lord Anton to a throne room wrought

Completely out of shining gold

Where court the Fairy-King would hold.

Approaching him and bowing low,

Thus boldly spoke Antonio,

“O Mighty King, so full of power,

Before whom mighty nations cower,

Great King of whom the legends speak,

Your aid this day I come to seek.

One year now have I been on quest

To seek at my true love’s behest

A thing with which thou hast been blest.

So now to help me pass this test

Would thou please aid thy humble guest?

 

 

 

 

The King then answered, “By no means!

Dost thou not know that kings and queens

Have more to do than give thee aid?

Now leave this place!” But Anton stayed.

Replied he to the Fairy-King

“If thou wilt not give me this thing,

Then challenge I of thee now make.

To win this prize my soul I stake.

If you can answer questions four

I’ll be you servant evermore.

 

“But if you cannot answer me

For all time shall my soul be free

And I shall get to choose my prize

From all things here before my eyes.”

“In truth,” the King then did report

“This game you play is right good sport.

But of this fact I must thee warn:

Since day that Adam first was born

Of besting me no man can boast.

I take thy challenge,” said the host.

 

“Have at thy questions,” said the King.

Antonio said, answering,

“Pray tell these things that I speak of:

I gave two gifts to my true love.

I gave a cherry with no stone.

I gave a chicken with no bone.

A babe that cried not did I tend.

I told a story with no end.

And now, O King, please answer me

How can all of these things be?

 

The King to him said, “By my word,

Of all the riddles I have heard

Those are the hardest to explain.

And though it causes me great pain

I must to thee admit defeat,

For fairly now thou hast me beat.

Of all you see before your eyes

You shall be free to choose your prize

And evermore your soul shall live.

But first, my lord, the answers give.

 

“Good King,” said Lord Antonio,

“I tell thee now, so thou shalt know,

A cherry blossom has no stone.

A chicken egg, it has no bone.

A sleeping baby did I tend.

My love’s a story with no end.”

“In faith, thou hast now truly told,”

The King said in his room of gold.

“So pick thee now from all my treasure.

What item brings thee greatest pleasure?”

Then Anton said, “What pleases me

Is not in here, but thou shalt see,

If out the window behind thee

Thou gaze at yonder cherry tree.

One branch is all I need,” said he.

 

 

 

“Marry, sir, so small a price?

You need not try to be so nice.

For with your sport you bested me.

A better prize I give to thee.

Here, take from me this golden chalice.”

“Nay, Majesty, for my love Alice,

Who has the pow’r to end my sorrow,

Has asked that we meet on the morrow.

And I must bring a stoneless cherry

If Alice I would hope to marry.

 

So if you give me what I ask

Completed then will be my task.

Then I will go and meet this maid

Where first I spied her in a glade

While hunting on last All Saints Day.”

“Let all be done here as you say.”

Then out to garden they did go

Where wondrous cherry tree did grow,

Cut off with knife both sharp and strong

A flow’ring branch a cubit long.

 

“Before I give this branch to thee,”

Thus spoke the King, “Please tell to me

By what good name, sir, art thou hight?

Come, tell me now both true and right.”

Then kneeling down and bending low

He answered him, “Antonio,

And from the Waterhouse, my line.”

The King said, “Let this be a sign,

Since such small price thou asked of me,

Now Price thou evermore shalt be.

 

“But one last thing I ask of thee:

Guard well your cutting from this tree.

For if you graft this cherry flower

Then it will give that tree its power

To evermore its blossoms bring

In grand display, as if ‘twere Spring.

And to those blossoms will it hold

Forever, be it ne’er so cold.”

Then gave he Price the priceless bough,

And said, “With haste thou must go now.”

 

Then Price went back through tunnel dark,

His heart as happy as a lark.

On coming back to hearth and home

He swore then nevermore to roam.

He took his dinner in his keep

Then settled into slumber deep.

At dawn’s first light his way he made

To meet with Alice at the glade.

Her prize in hand, they then not tarried

And next day by the priest were married.

These fifty years could not them rieve,

So honour now what they achieve.

For grand it is, I do believe.

And though it makes my heart to grieve,

Good gentles, now I take my leave.