Poems By The Way & Love Is Enough Part 43

KING PHARAMOND

Five years are pa.s.sed over since in the fresh dawning On the field of that fight I lay wearied and sleepless Till slumber came o'er me in the first of the sunrise; Then as there lay my body rapt away was my spirit, And a cold and thick mist for a while was about me, And when that cleared away, lo, the mountain-walled country 'Neath the first of the sunrise in e'en such a spring-tide As the spring-tide our horse-hoofs that yestereve trampled: By the withy-wrought gate of a garden I found me 'Neath the goodly green boughs of the apple full-blossomed; And fulfilled of great pleasure I was as I entered The fair place of flowers, and wherefore I knew not.

Then lo, mid the birds' song a woman's voice singing.

Five years pa.s.sed away, in the first of the sunrise.

[_He is silent, brooding_.

MASTER OLIVER

G.o.d help us if G.o.d is!--for this man, I deemed him More a glory of G.o.d made man for our helping Than a man that should die: all the deeds he did surely, Too great for a man's life, have undone the doer.

KING PHARAMOND (_rousing himself_)

Thou art waiting, my fosterer, till I tell of her singing And the words that she sang there: time was when I knew them; But too much of strife is about us this morning, And whiles I forget and whiles I remember.

[_Falls a-musing again._

MASTER OLIVER

_But a night's dream undid him, and he died, and his kingdom By unheard-of deeds fashioned, was tumbled together, By false men and fools to be fought for and ruined._ Such words shall my ghost see the chronicler writing In the days that shall be:--ah--what wouldst thou, my fosterling?

Knowest thou not how words fail us awaking That we seemed to hear plain amid sleep and its sweetness?

Nay, strive not, my son, rest awhile and be silent; Or sleep while I watch thee: full fair is the garden, Perchance mid the flowers thy sweet dream may find thee, And thou shalt have pleasure and peace for a little.-- (_Aside_) And my soul shall depart ere thou wak'st peradventure.

KING PHARAMOND

Yea, thou deemest me mad: a dream thou mayst call it, But not such a dream as thou know'st of: nay, hearken!

For what manner of dream then is this that remembers The words that she sang on that morning of glory;-- _O love, set a word in my mouth for our meeting; Cast thy sweet arms about me to stay my hearts beating!_ Ah, thy silence, thy silence! nought shines on the darkness!

--O close-serried throng of the days that I see not!

[_Falls a-musing again._

MASTER OLIVER

Thus the worse that shall be, the bad that is, bettereth.

--Once more he is speechless mid evil dreams sunken.

KING PHARAMOND (_speaking very low_).

_Hold silence, love, speak not of the sweet day departed; Cling close to me, love, lest I waken sad-hearted!_ [_Louder to OLIVER._ Thou starest, my fosterer: what strange thing beholdst thou?

A great king, a strong man, that thou knewest a child once: Pharamond the fair babe: Pharamond the warrior; Pharamond the king, and which hast thou feared yet?

And why wilt thou fear then this Pharamond the lover?

Shall I fail of my love who failed not of my fame?

Nay, nay, I shall live for the last gain and greatest.

MASTER OLIVER

I know not--all counsel and wit is departed, I wait for thy will; I will do it, my master.

KING PHARAMOND

Through the boughs of the garden I followed the singing To a smooth s.p.a.ce of sward: there the unknown desire Of my soul I beheld,--wrought in shape of a woman.

MASTER OLIVER

O ye warders of Troy-walls, join hands through the darkness, Tell us tales of the Downfall, for we too are with you!

KING PHARAMOND

As my twin sister, young of years was she and slender, Yellow blossoms of spring-tide her hands had been gathering, But the gown-lap that held them had fallen adown And had lain round her feet with the first of the singing; Now her singing had ceased, though yet heaved her bosom As with lips lightly parted and eyes of one seeking She stood face to face with the Love that she knew not, The love that she longed for and waited unwitting; She moved not, I breathed not--till lo, a horn winded, And she started, and o'er her came trouble and wonder, Came pallor and trembling; came a strain at my heartstrings As bodiless there I stretched hands toward her beauty, And voiceless cried out, as the cold mist swept o'er me.

Then again clash of arms, and the morning watch calling, And the long leaves and great twisted trunks of the chesnuts, As I sprang to my feet and turned round to the trumpets And gathering of spears and unfolding of banners That first morn of my reign and my glory's beginning.

MASTER OLIVER

O well were we that tide though the world was against us.

KING PHARAMOND

Hearken yet!--through that whirlwind of danger and battle, Beaten back, struggling forward, we fought without blemish On my banner spear-rent in the days of my father, On my love of the land and the longing I cherished For a tale to be told when I, laid in the minster, Might hear it no more; was it easy of winning, Our bread of those days? Yet as wild as the work was, Unforgotten and sweet in my heart was that vision, And her eyes and her lips and her fair body's fashion Blest all times of rest, rent the battle asunder, Turned ruin to laughter and death unto dreaming; And again and thrice over again did I go there Ere spring was grown winter: in the meadows I met her, By the sheaves of the corn, by the down-falling apples, Kind and calm, yea and glad, yet with eyes of one seeking.

--Ah the mouth of one waiting, ere all shall be over!-- But at last in the winter-tide mid the dark forest Side by side did we wend down the pa.s.s: the wind tangled Mid the trunks and black boughs made wild music about us, But her feet on the scant snow and the sound of her breathing Made music much better: the wood thinned, and I saw her, As we came to the brow of the pa.s.s; for the moon gleamed Bitter cold in the cloudless black sky of the winter.

Then the world drew me back from my love, and departing I saw her sweet serious look pa.s.s into terror And her arms cast abroad--and lo, clashing of armour, And a sword in my hand, and my mouth crying loud, And the moon and cold steel in the doorway burst open And thy doughty spear thrust through the throat of the foeman My dazed eyes scarce saw--thou rememberest, my fosterer?

MASTER OLIVER

Yea, Theobald the Constable had watched but unduly; We were taken unwares, and wild fleeing there was O'er black rock and white snow--shall such times come again, son?

KING PHARAMOND

Yea, full surely they shall; have thou courage, my fosterer!-- Day came thronging on day, month thrust month aside, Amid battle and strife and the murder of glory, And still oft and oft to that land was I led And still through all longing I young in Love's dealings, Never called it a pain: though, the battle pa.s.sed over, The council determined, back again came my craving: I knew not the pain, but I knew all the pleasure, When now, as the clouds o'er my fortune were parting, I felt myself waxing in might and in wisdom; And no city welcomed the Freed and the Freer, And no mighty army fell back before rumour Of Pharamond's coming, but her heart bid me thither, And the blithest and kindest of kingfolk ye knew me.

Then came the high tide of deliverance upon us, When surely if we in the red field had fallen The stocks and the stones would have risen to avenge us.

--Then waned my sweet vision midst glory's fulfilment, And still with its waning, hot waxed my desire: And did ye not note then that the glad-hearted Pharamond Was grown a stern man, a fierce king, it may be?

Did ye deem it the growth of my manhood, the hardening Of battle and murder and treason about me?

Nay, nay, it was love's pain, first named and first noted When a long time went past, and I might not behold her.

--Thou rememberest a year agone now, when the legate Of the Lord of the Waters brought here a broad letter Full of prayers for good peace and our friendship thenceforward-- --He who erst set a price on the lost head of Pharamond-- How I bade him stand up on his feet and be merry, Eat his meat by my side and drink out of my beaker, In memory of days when my meat was but little And my drink drunk in haste between saddle and straw.

But lo! midst of my triumph, as I noted the feigning Of the last foeman humbled, and the hall fell a murmuring, And blithely the horns blew, _Be glad, spring prevaileth,_ --As I sat there and changed not, my soul saw a vision: All folk faded away, and my love that I long for Came with raiment a-rustling along the hall pavement, Drawing near to the high-seat, with hands held out a little, Till her hallowed eyes drew me a s.p.a.ce into heaven, And her lips moved to whisper, 'Come, love, for I weary!'

Then she turned and went from me, and I heard her feet falling On the floor of the hall, e'en as though it were empty Of all folk but us twain in the hush of the dawning.

Then again, all was gone, and I sat there a smiling On the faint-smiling legate, as the hall windows quivered With the rain of the early night sweeping across them.

Nought slept I that night, yet I saw her without sleeping:-- Betwixt midnight and morn of that summer-tide was I Amidst of the lilies by her house-door to hearken If perchance in her chamber she turned amid sleeping: When lo, as the East 'gan to change, and stars faded Were her feet on the stairs, and the door opened softly, And she stood on the threshold with the eyes of one seeking, And there, gathering the folds of her gown to her girdle, Went forth through the garden and followed the highway, All along the green valley, and I ever beside her, Till the light of the low sun just risen was falling On her feet in the first of the pa.s.s--and all faded.