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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339885" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Three Friends</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sword slew one in deadly strife ;<br>One perished by the bowl ;<br>The third lies self-slain by the knife ;<br>For three the bells may toll—<br>I loved her better than my life,<br>And better than my soul.<br> <br>Aye, father ! hast thou come at last ?<br>'Tis somewhat late to pray ;<br>Life's crimson tides are ebbing fast,<br>They drain my soul away ;<br>Mine eyes with film are overcast,<br>The lights are waning grey.<br> <br>This curl from her bright head I shore,<br>And this her hands gave mine ;<br>See, one is stained with purple gore,<br>And one with poison'd wine ;<br>Give these to her when all is o'er—<br>How serpent-like they twine !<br> <br>We three were brethren in arms,<br>And sworn companions we ;<br>We held this motto, 'Whoso harms<br>The one shall harm the three !'<br>Till, matchless for her subtle charms,<br>Beloved of each was she.<br> <br>(These two were slain that I might kiss<br>Her sweet mouth. I did well ;<br>I said, 'There is no greater bliss<br>For those in heaven that dwell' ;<br>I lost her ; then I said, 'There is<br>No fiercer pang in hell !')<br> <br>We have upheld each other's rights,<br>Shared purse, and borrow'd blade ;<br>Have stricken side by side in fights ;<br>And side by side have prayed<br>In churches. We were Christian knights,<br>And she a Christian maid.<br> <br>We met at sunrise, he and I,<br>My comrade—'twas agreed<br>The steel our quarrel first should try,<br>The poison should succeed ;<br>For two of three were doom'd to die,<br>And one was doomed to bleed.<br> <br>We buckled to the doubtful fray,<br>At first, with some remorse ;<br>But he who must be slain—or slay,<br>Soon strikes with vengeful force.<br>He fell ; I left him where he lay,<br>Among the trampled gorse.<br> <br>Did passion warp my heart and head<br>To madness ? And, if so,<br>Can madness palliate bloodshed ?—<br>It may be—I shall know<br>When God shall gather up the dead<br>From where the four winds blow.<br> <br>We met at sunset, he and I—<br>My second comrade true ;<br>Two cups with wine were brimming high,<br>And one was drugg'd—we knew<br>Not which, nor sought we to descry ;<br>Our choice by lot we drew.<br> <br>And there I sat with him to sup :<br>I heard him blithely speak<br>Of bygone days—the fatal cup<br>Forgotten seem'd—his cheek<br>Was ruddy : father, raise me up,<br>My voice is waxing weak.<br> <br>We drank ; his lips turned livid white,<br>His cheeks grew leaden ash ;<br>He reel'd—I heard his temples smite<br>The threshold with a crash !<br>And from his hand, in shivers bright,<br>I saw the goblet flash.<br> <br>The morrow dawn'd with fragrance rare,<br>The May-breeze, from the west,<br>Just fann'd the sleepy olives, where<br>She heard and I confess'd ;<br>My hair entangled with her hair,<br>Her breast strained to my breast.<br> <br>On the dread verge of endless gloom<br>My soul recalls that hour ;<br>Skies languishing with balm of bloom,<br>And fields aflame with flower ;<br>And slow caresses that consume,<br>And kisses that devour.<br> <br>Ah ! now with storm the day seems rife,<br>My dull ears catch the roll<br>Of thunder, and the far sea strife,<br>On beach and bar and shoal—<br>I loved her better than my life,<br>And better than my soul.<br> <br>She fled ! I cannot prove her guilt,<br>Nor would I an I could ;<br>See, life for life is fairly spilt !<br>And blood is shed for blood ;<br>Her white hands neither touched the hilt,<br>Nor yet the potion brew'd.<br> <br>Aye ! turn me from the sickly south,<br>Towards the gusty north ;<br>The fruits of sin are dust and drouth,<br>The end of crime is wrath—<br>The lips that pressed her rose-like mouth<br>Are choked with blood-red froth.<br> <br>Then dig the grave-pit deep and wide,<br>Three graves thrown into one,<br>And lay three corpses side by side,<br>And tell their tale to none ;<br>But bring her back in all her pride<br>To see what she hath done.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Adam+Lindsay+Gordon">Adam Lindsay Gordon</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339885" data-title="The Three Friends de Adam Lindsay Gordon" data-description="The sword slew one in deadly strife ;
One perished by the bowl ;
The third lies self-slain by the knife ;
For three the bells may toll—
I loved her better than my life,
And better than my soul.
 
Aye, father ! hast thou come at last ?
'Tis somew..."></div>
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