John William Waterhouse, La Belle Dame Sans Merci (detail) public domain
This is my first attempt at a poetry post - please be kind?
The story is a retelling of the legend of “Tristram and Iseult” - a doomed medieval romance where Tristram is sent by his uncle, King Mark of Cornwall, to fetch Iseult, the daughter of the Irish King Anguish (yes, I know…) who has been promised to him in marriage.
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But there is a twist!
Tristram and Iseult fall hopelessly in love (in many versions an enchanted wine is involved, intended for the husband but mistakenly drunk by the couple). But honour being honour, and vows being vows, they swallow their heartache and do the right thing. Iseult marries King Mark, and Tristram goes off to France to forget his woes in knightly deeds of honour.
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Eventually Tristram is mortally wounded, and sends his best friend to bring Iseult to him — in some versions she is known to be a wise woman with magical healing skills. His friend promises to fly white sails from his ship if Iseult is on board, black if he could not bring her.
Tristram lies, close to death, watching the horizon for sails…
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The poem version is below…
Medieval ship, Canva
White Sails
At Christmastide, I took a ship
And sailed across the sea
I little knew how I would rue
What fate had writ for me
Or with what art she’d steal my heart—
My uncle’s bride-to-be.
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My friend unto the bitterest end,
Kai Hir, was at my side,
The sails were set, the good ship met
The rising of the tide
We sailed across the Irish sea,
To fetch my uncle’s bride.
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I was my uncle’s truest knight,
Close kinsman to the king
In Mark of Cornwall’s sacred trust
I bore his plight-troth ring
An Irish princess to betroth
And safely home to bring.
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His truest knight, my honour bright,
My reputation fair
I never dreamt forbidden love
Could trap me in its snare
Or how she’d chain my heart with naught
But one bright strand of hair.
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Sir Frances Dicksee, Romeo and Juliet (detail) pubic domain
There was a spell, the stories tell,
A magic draught of wine,
That bound the wrong man deep in love,
By ill-luck or design —
I was that wrong man, bound to one
Meant never to be mine.
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There was a spell, the stories tell,
But all the stories lie,
Iseult the fair enchanted me
With naught but her bright eye,
Iseult the fair, her copper hair,
The music of her sigh.
And if she wrought a spell on me,
Then so, on her, did I.
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John William Waterhouse, Tristan and Isolde (detail) public domain
And all too late — oh wicked fate! —
I learned Iseult’s name,
And she that I was not her groom,
That came her hand to claim,
All, all too late to snuff the spark
That flared into a flame.
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A flame that burned. The ship returned
Across that fated sea,
I brought Mark’s bride upon the tide
As he commanded me.
Iseult’s and Tristram’s was a love
We knew could never be.
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And yet, one glance, one stolen chance
One brush of hand on hand,
One kiss that burned upon our lips
More searing than a brand,
Oh! We were lost at sea, long ere
We came in sight of land.
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Edward Burne-Jones, Love Among the Ruins (detail) public domain
And no man knew, no not the crew,
Nor courtier, nor maid,
How by his knight and lady bright
My uncle was betrayed
None but Kai Hir, hips lips clamped tight,
His true heart sore dismayed.
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With souls like lead, in deepest dread
We came at last to land,
And Mark of Cornwall waited there,
To claim his new bride’s hand,
For though Iseult held my heart,
She’d wear his wedding band.
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For Iseult’s word and Tristram’s sword
Both to King Mark were sworn
And vows are vows, and cannot bend,
However hearts are torn.
Iseult wed my Uncle Mark —
I left the self-same morn.
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Edmund Blair Leighton, God Speed, public domain
Across the sea to Brittany
I fled, to seek my fate,
There desperation made me brave,
Wretchedness made me great.
My daring deeds concealed a thirst
Only her love could sate.
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None but Kai Hir, my loyal friend,
Forever at my side,
Knows what sad longing drives my deeds,
The yearning that they hide,
And now at last I have a wound
That matches that inside.
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Arthur Hughes, Sir Galahad (detail) public domain
“Ah Kai! My friend! At last, my end
Is come, I fear, I bleed.
I beg you, let your sister tend
My wound, your help I need —
Fetch me my love, my Iseult fair,
I beg you, make all speed!”
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“Tell her I die, tell her I lie
Here cold and at death’s door —
Here will I wait to know my fate
Upon this dreary shore,
Where she must seek me one last time,
Or never see me more.”
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“My friend!” Kai cries, tears in his eyes,
“Your dying wish I hear,
My sister knows I love you well,
And holds you no less dear;
With her I leave you till I come
To bring your Iseult near.”
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“And while you wait to know your fate:
If she will come or no,
I promise you, that if she does,
White sails my ship will show,
But if she fails you, blackest sails
I’ll hoist, to tell your woe.”
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John William Waterhouse, Destiny (detail) public domain
And so he went, my truest friend,
To bid Iseult to come,
And here I lie upon the shore,
My body cold and numb,
Kai’s sister weeping over me,
Her heartbeat like a drum.
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“Oh do you see, upon the sea,
Kai’s sister kind, a sail?”
“I see no ship, Tristram dear heart,”
Her voice is low and frail.
Her hand is soft, her eyes are wet,
Her cheek is cold and pale.
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John William Waterhouse, Miranda (detail) public domain
“Have pity, please, and scan the seas
One more time, look again”
“I see no sail, Tristram, my dear,”
Once more is her refrain.
Her face is drawn, her eyes cast down,
Her lips are tight with strain.
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“I grow so weak, I beg you, speak,
Kai’s sister, do you see
A snow-white sail upon the wave,
To bring Iseult to me?”
Her face grows dark, she turns her back
And stares upon the sea.
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Her voice is frost, her voice is lost,
Her voice begins to crack,
As she replies, “I see a ship!
My brother hastens back!”
“For pity, tell me of the sails?”
“The sails – the sails – are black!”
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Oh Iseult fair! Oh Iseult cruel!
How could you fail my cry?
How could you fail to come to me,
To say your last goodbye?
How could you fail to come to me,
And leave me here to die?
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My heart grows weak, my soul is bleak
My vision dims and pales,
My blood is crimson on the sand,
My breathing flags and fails,
No longer can I strain my sight
For any trace of sails.
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And still Kai’s sister turns away
And will not meet my eye,
Is it my fate that every soul
Forsake me as I die?
And how could Iseult fail to come?
And was our love a lie?
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The hour grows late, the hand of fate
Turns Tristram’s body cold,
Kai’s sister weeps for her lost love
And for the lie she told,
For in the bay there nears a ship
With white sails all unfurled.
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Iseult comes! Iseult runs!
She weeps at Tristram’s side
“Did he not see the snowy sails?
Did he not know I tried?”
Kai’s sister turns with face like ice:
“He did not know. I lied.”
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Rogelio de Egusquiza - Tristan and Isolt (Death) Courtesy of Wiki Commons
The stories tell how Iseult fell
Stark lifeless to the ground.
From their twin graves, two rose-trees grew
And close together wound
So that no man could sunder them,
So tightly were they bound.
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So tightly bound, those rose-trees wound
About each other so,
As if their limbs were lovers’ limbs
That never should let go,
As if those rose-trees knew a love
No fate could overthrow.
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Copyright notice
© Moll Moonlight. All rights reserved.
🌙✨💕If you enjoyed this ballad of doomed love, please like and restack💕✨🌙
Want more? Read my historical romance “Taken by the Highwayman”:
Moll, this is incredible! I’ll say again that your poetry is truly matchless. Call yourself what you will (or won’t), but you an incredible poet is just one of many things you are! I will need to read this many times if I am to afford it the appreciation it deserves. But for now, I want to restack it in hopes that other readers may see this comment, grow curious, read and enjoy such a literary treat. Beautiful, brilliant work, Moll! I couldn’t be more pleased!
So tightly bound, those rose-trees wound
About each other so,
As if their limbs were lovers’ limbs
That never should let go,
As if those rose-trees knew a love
No fate could overthrow.