The Land of Song Volume Iii Part 18

But lo! a third man o'er the wave, And we said, "Thank G.o.d! us three may He save!"

He clutched to the yard with panting stare, And we looked and knew Fitz-Stephen there.

He clung, and "What of the Prince?" quoth he.

"Lost, lost!" we cried. He cried, "Woe on me!"

And loosed his hold and sank through the sea.

And soul with soul again in that s.p.a.ce We two were together face to face:

And each knew each, as the moments sped, Less for one living than for one dead:

And every still star overhead Seemed an eye that knew we were but dead.

And the hours pa.s.sed; till the n.o.ble's son Sighed, "G.o.d be thy help! my strength's foredone!

"O farewell, friend, for I can no more!"

"Christ take thee!" I moaned; and his life was o'er.

Three hundred souls were all lost but one, And I drifted over the sea alone.

At last the morning rose on the sea Like an angel's wing that beat towards me.

Sore numbed I was in my sheepskin coat; Half dead I hung, and might nothing note, Till I woke sun-warmed in a fisher boat.

The sun was high o'er the eastern brim As I praised G.o.d and gave thanks to Him.

That day I told my tale to a priest, Who charged me, till the shrift was released, That I should keep it in mine own breast.

And with the priest I thence did fare To King Henry's court at Winchester.

We spoke with the King's high chamberlain, And he wept and mourned again and again, As if his own son had been slain:

And round us ever there crowded fast Great men with faces all aghast:

And who so bold that might tell the thing Which now they knew to their lord the King?

Much woe I learnt in their communing.

The King had watched with a heart sore stirred For two whole days, and this was the third:

And still to all his court would he say, "What keeps my son so long away?"

And they said: "The ports lie far and wide That skirt the swell of the English tide;

"And England's cliffs are not more white Than her women are, and scarce so light Her skies as their eyes are blue and bright;

"And in some port that he reached from France The Prince has lingered for his pleasance."

But once the King asked: "What distant cry Was that we heard 'twixt the sea and sky?"

And one said: "With suchlike shouts, pardie!

Do the fishers fling their nets at sea."

And one: "Who knows not the shrieking quest When the seamew misses its young from the nest?"

'Twas thus till now they had soothed his dread, Albeit they knew not what they said:

But who should speak to-day of the thing That all knew there except the King?

Then pondering much they found a way, And met round the King's high seat that day:

And the King sat with a heart sore stirred, And seldom he spoke and seldom heard.

'Twas then through the hall the King was 'ware Of a little boy with golden hair,

As bright as the golden poppy is That the beach breeds for the surf to kiss:

Yet pale his cheek as the thorn in spring, And his garb black like the raven's wing.

Nothing was heard but his foot through the hall, For now the lords were silent all.

And the King wondered, and said, "Alack!

Who sends me a fair boy dressed in black?

"Why, sweet heart, do you pace through the hall As though my court were a funeral?"

Then lowly knelt the child at the dais, And looked up weeping in the King's face.

"O wherefore black, O King, ye may say, For white is the hue of death to-day.

"Your son and all his fellowship Lie low in the sea with the White Ship."

King Henry fell as a man struck dead; And speechless still he stared from his bed When to him next day my rede I read.

There's many an hour must needs beguile A King's high heart that he should smile,--

Full many a lordly hour, full fain Of his realm's rule and pride of his reign:-- But this King never smiled again.

By none but me can the tale be told, The butcher of Rouen, poor Berold.

(_Lands are swayed by a King on a throne._)

'Twas a royal train put forth to sea, Yet the tale can be told by none but me.

(_The sea hath no King but G.o.d alone._)

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.

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