The Poems of William Watson Part 18

O fair and wonderful! that shadow was The golden dream of dreams that came across His youth, full half an hundred years before, And sent him wandering through the world. Once more In a lone boat that sails and oars had none, Midmost a land of summer and the sun Where nothing was that was not fair to see, Adown a gliding river glided he, And saw the city that was built thereby, And saw the chariot of the queen draw nigh, And gazed upon her in the goodly street; Whereat he waked and rose upon his feet, Remembering the Vision of the Seer, And what the spirit spake unto his ear: "When in thy wanderings thou shalt dream once more The fateful dream thou haddest heretofore, That filled thy veins with longing as with wine Till all thy being brimm'd over--by that sign Thou mayest know thyself at last to be Within the borders of his empery Who hath the mystic emerald stone, whose gleam Shall light thee to the country of thy dream."

Then rose the heart within his heart and said: "O bitter scornful Fate, in days long dead I asked and thou denied'st mine asking: now The boon can no-wise profit me, and thou Dost mock me with bestowal!" Thereupon He fell to thinking of his youthhood gone, And wept. For now the goal, the longtime-sought, Was even at hand, "but how shall I," he thought, "I that am old and sad and h.o.a.ry-haired, Enter the place for youth and love prepared?

For in my veins the wellspring of desire Hath failed, and in mine heart the golden fire Burneth no more for ever. I draw near The night that is about our day, and hear The sighing of the darkness as I go Whose ancient secret there is none doth know."

Ev'n so to his own heart he spake full sad, And many and bitter were the thoughts he had Of days that were and days that were to be.

But now the East was big with dawn, and he Drew nigh the city-gates and entered in, Ere yet the place remurmured with the din Of voices and the tread of human feet; And going up the void and silent street, All in the chill gleam of the new-lit air, A Thought found way into his soul, and there Abode and grew, and in brief while became Desire, and quickened to a quenchless flame: And holding converse with himself, he said, "Though in my heart the heart's desire be dead, And can no more these time-stilled pulses move; Though Death were lovelier to these eyes than Love Yet would these eyes behold, or ere I pa.s.s, The land that mirror'd lay as in a gla.s.s In the deep wells of dream. And her that is The sunlight of that city of all bliss, Her would I fain see once with waking eyes Whom sleep hath rendered unto vision twice.

And having seen her beauty I would go My way, even to the river which doth flow From daylight unto darkness and the place Of silence, where the ghosts are face to face."

So mused the man, and evermore his thought Gave him no peace. Wherefore next morn he sought The palace of the king, but on his way Tarried till nigh the middle of the day In talk with certain of the city-folk; Whereby he learned, if that were true they spoke, How that the king their lord was nigh distract With torture of a strange disease that racked Each day his anguished body more and more, Setting at naught the leeches and their lore.

Which having heard he went before the king, Who sat upon his throne, delivering Judgment, his body pierced the while with pain.

And taking from his neck the charmed chain Which he had borne about him ever since That morn miraculous, the unknown Prince Upspake and said, "O king, I hold within My hand a wonder-working medicine Of power to make thee whole if thou wilt deign So to be healed;" and he held the chain Aloft, and straightway told unto the king The pa.s.sing worth and wonder of the thing.

Then he that heard stretched forth a hand that shook With sudden fever of half-hope, and took The chain, and turned it over in his hand Until his eyes had left no link unscanned.

And on each separate link was character'd A language that no living ear had heard, Occult, of secret import, mystic, strange.

Then said the king, "What would'st thou in exchange For this the magic metal thou dost bring?"

And the Prince answered him and said, "O king, Even the emerald stone which some do call The Emerald of the Virtues Mystical."

And they who thronged the hall of judgment were Astonished at the stranger who could dare Ask such a boon; and some base mouths did curl With sneers, churl whispering to his fellow churl, "Who could have deemed the man so covetous, So void of shame in his great greed?" For thus It shall be ever underneath the sun, Each man believing that high hearts are none Whose own is as the dust he treads on low.

But the king answered saying, "Be it so.

To-night this chain of iron shall be worn About my neck, and on the morrow-morn, If all the pain have left these limbs of mine, The guerdon thou demandest shall be thine.

But if this torment still tormenteth me, Thy head and shoulders shall part company, And both be cast uncoffin'd to the worms.

Open thy mouth and answer if these terms Content thee." And aloud the Prince replied, "With these conditions I am satisfied:"

Whereafter, rising from his knees, he went Out from before the king, and was content.

Next morning, when the king awoke, I wis No heart was lighter in the land than his; For all the grievous burden of his pains Had fall'n from off his limbs, and in his veins Upleapt the glad new life, and the sick soul Seemed like its body all at once made whole.

But hardly was the king uprisen before There knock'd and entered at the chamber-door His chief physician (a right skilful leech, But given to hollow trickeries of speech, And artful ways and wiles) who said, "O king, Be not deceived, I pray thee. One good thing Comes of another, like from like. The weed Beareth not lilies, neither do apes breed Antelopes. Thou art healed of thy pain Not by the wearing of an iron chain-- An iron chain forsooth!"--(hereat he laughed As 'twere a huge rare jest) "but by the draught Which I prepared for thee with mine own hands From certain precious simples grown in lands It irks me tell how many leagues away: Which medicine thou tookest yesterday."

Then said the king, "O false and jealous man, Who lovest better thine own praises than Thy master's welfare! Little 'tis to such As thou, that I should be made whole; but much That men should go before thee, trumpeting "'Behold the man that cured our lord the king.'"

And he was sore displeased and in no mood To hearken. But the chief physician stood Unmoved amid this hail of kingly scorn, With meek face martyr-like, as who hath borne Much in the name of Truth, and much can bear.

And from the mouth of him false words and fair So cunningly flowed that in a little while The royal frown became a royal smile, And the king hearkened to the leech and was Persuaded. So that morn it came to pa.s.s That when the Prince appeared before the throne To claim his rightful meed, the emerald stone, The king denied his t.i.tle to receive The jewel, saying, "Think'st thou I believe Yon jingling chain hath healed my body? Nay; For whatsoever such as thou may say I am not found so easy to beguile: As for the gem thou wouldest, this good while It hath adorned the crown I wear, nor shall The stone be parted from the coronal."

Scarce had the false king spoken when behold Through the high ceiling's goodly fretted gold A sudden shaft of lightning downward sped And smote the golden crown upon his head, Yea, melted ev'n as wax the golden crown.

And from the molten metal there fell down A gra.s.sgreen Splendour, and the Emerald Stone Tumbled from step to step before the throne, And lay all moveless at the Prince's feet!

And the king sat upon his royal seat A dead king, marble-mute: but no man stirred Or spake: and only silence might be heard.

Then he before whose feet the gem did lie Said not a word to any man thereby, But stooped and lifted it from off the floor, And pa.s.sing outward from the open door Put the mysterious jewel in his breast And went his way, none daring to molest The stranger. For the whisper rose and ran, "Is not the lightning leagued with this man?"

PART THE NINTH

And pa.s.sing through the city he went out Into the fat fields lying thereabout, And lo the spirit of the emerald stone With secret influence to himself unknown Guided the wandering of his errant feet, The servants of the errant soul; and sweet The meadows were, with babble of birds, and noise Of brooks, the water's voice and the wind's voice.

Howbeit he gave small heed to any of them; And now the subtile spirit of the gem Led him along a winding way that ran Beyond the fields to where the woods began To spread green matwork for the mountains' feet; A region where the Silence had her seat And hearkened to the sounds that only she Can hear--the fall of dew on herb and tree; The voice of the growing of the gra.s.s; the night Down-fluttering breathless from the heaven's height; And autumn whispering unawares at times Strange secrets and dark sayings, wrapt in rhymes Wind-won from forest branches. At this place The old man rested for a little s.p.a.ce, Forgetful that the day was wellnigh flown: But soon the urgent spirit of the stone Itself re-entered and possessed anew His soul; and led thereby, and wandering through A mile of trackless and untrodden ground, By favour of the rising moon he found A rude path, broken here and there by rills Which crossed it as they hurried from the hills.

And going whitherso the wild path went, A two hours' journeying brought him, wellnigh spent With toiling upwards, to a mountain pa.s.s, A bleak lone place where no trees grew nor gra.s.s, But on each hand a peak of rock, high-reared, Uprose: afar the two like horns appeared Of some great beast, so tapering-tall they were.

And now with forward gaze the wanderer Stood where the pa.s.s was highest and the track Went downward both ways; and behind his back The full moon shone, and lo before his face The bright sea glimmered at the mountain's base.

It seemed, what way soever he might turn, His fate still led him to that watery bourn.

So journeying down the track which lay before, He came, an hour past midnight, to the sh.o.r.e, And, looking backward, far above espied The two sharp peaks, one peak on either side Of that lone pa.s.s; verily like a pair Of monstrous horns, the tips far-seen, up there: And in the nether s.p.a.ce betwixt the two, A single monstrous eye the moon shone through.

Now all this while the spirit of the stone Had led him forward, he, the old man lone, Taking no thought of whither he was bound.

And roaming now along the beach he found A creek, and in the creek, some little way From where it joined the sea, a pinnace lay Moored at the marge; and stepping thereinto, He sat him down, and from his bosom drew The mystic gem, and placed it at the prow, That he might watch its paly splendours, how They lightened here and there, and flashed aflame, Mocked at the moon and put the stars to shame.

But hardly was the stone out of his hand, When the boat wrenched her moorings from the land, And swift as any captive bird set free Shot o'er the shimmering surface of the sea, The spirit of the emerald guiding her; And for a time the old man could not stir For very greatness of astonishment.

But merrily o'er the moonlit waters went The pinnace, till the land was out of sight, Far in the dreaming distance. All that night, Faster than ever wind in winter blew, Faster than quarrel flies the bow, she flew.

A moment was a league in that wild flight From vast to vast of ocean and the night.

And now the moon her lanthorn had withdrawn: And now the pale weak heralds of the dawn Lifted the lids of their blear eyes afar: The last belated straggler of a star Went home; and in her season due the morn Brake on a cold and silent sea forlorn-- A strange mute sea, where never wave hath stirred, Nor sound of any wandering wind is heard, Nor voice of sailors sailing merrily: A sea untraversed, an enchanted sea From all the world fate-folden; hemmed about Of linked Dreams; encompa.s.sed with a Doubt.

But not the less for lack of wind went she, The flying pinnace, o'er that silent sea, Till those dull waters of enchantment lay Behind her many a league. And now her way Was toward a shining tract of ocean, where Low winds with bland breath flattered the mild air, And low waves did together clasp and close, And skyward yearning from the sea there rose And seaward yearning from the sky there fell A Spirit of Deep Content Unspeakable: So midway meeting betwixt sky and sea, These twain are married for eternity, And rule the spirits of that Deep, and share The lordship of the legions of the air.

Here winds but came to rest them from their wars With far seas waged. Here Darkness had her stars Always, a nightly mult.i.tudinous birth.

And entering on this happier zone of earth, The boat 'gan bate her speed, and by degrees Tempered her motion to the tranquil seas, As if she knew the land not far ahead, The port not far: so forward piloted By that sweet spirit and strong, she held her way Unveering. And a little past midday, The wanderer lifted up his eyes, and right Before him saw what seemed a great wall, white As alabaster, builded o'er the sea, High as the heaven; but drawing nearer he Perceived it was a mighty mist that lay Upon the ocean, stretching far away Northward and southward, and the sun appeared Powerless to melt its ma.s.s. And while he neared This cloudy barrier stretching north and south, A tale once told him by his mother's mouth, In childhood, while he sat upon her knee, Rose to remembrance: _how that on the sea.

Sat somewhere a Great Mist which no sun's heat Could melt, nor wind make wander from, its seat.

So great it was, the fastest ship would need Seven days to compa.s.s it, with all her speed.

And they of deepest lore and wisest wit Deemed that an island in the midst of it Bloomed like a rosebush ring'd with snows, a place Of pleasance, folded in that white embrace And chill. But never yet would pilot steer Into the fog that wrapped it round, for fear Of running blindfold in that sightless mist On sunken reefs whereof no mariner wist: And so from all the world this happy isle Lay hidden_. Thus the queen, long since; and while He marvelled if the mist before his ken Could be the same she told of--even then, Hardly a furlong 'fore the pinnace' prow It lay: and now 'twas hard at hand: and now The boat had swept into the folds of it!

But all that vision of white darkness--lit By the full splendour of the emerald stone That from the forepart of the pinnace shone-- Melted around her, as in sunder cleft By that strong spirit of light; and there was left A wandering s.p.a.ce, behind her and before, Of radiance, roofed and walled with mist, the floor A liquid pavement large. And so she pa.s.sed Through twilight immemorial, and at last Issued upon the other side, where lay The land no mortal knew before that day.

There wilding orchards faced the beach, and bare All manner of delicious fruit and rare, Such as in gardens of kings' palaces Trembles upon the sultry-scented trees, The soul of many sunbeams at its core.

Well-pleased the wanderer landed on this sh.o.r.e, Beholding all its pleasantness, how sweet And soft, to the tired soul, to the tired feet.

And so he sat him down beneath the boughs, And there a low wind seemed to drone and drowse Among the leaves as it were gone astray And like to faint forwearied by the way; Till the persistence of the sound begat An heaviness within him as he sat: So when Sleep chanced to come that way, he found A captive not unwilling to be bound, And on his body those fine fetters put Wherewith he bindeth mortals hand and foot.

When the tired sleeper oped again his eyes, 'Twas early morn, and he beheld the skies Glowing from those deep hours of rest and dew Wherein all creatures do themselves renew.

The laughing leaves blink'd in the sun, throughout Those dewy realms of orchard thereabout; But green fields lay beyond, and farther still, Betwixt them and the sun, a great high hill Kept these in shadow, and the brighter made The fruitlands look for all that neighbouring shade.

And he the solitary man uprose, His face toward the mountain beyond those Fair fields not yet acquainted with the sun; And crossed the fields, and climbed the hill, and won The top; and journeying down the eastern side Entered upon a gra.s.sy vale and wide, Where in the midst a pure stream ran, as yet A youngling, hardly able to forget The lofty place of its nativity, Nor l.u.s.ting yet for union with the sea.

And through this valley, taking for his guide The stream, and walking by the waterside, He wandered on, but had at whiles to ford The lesser brooks that from the mountains poured Into this greater; which by slow degrees, Enlarged with such continual soft increase, Became a river broad and fair, but still As clear as when it flowed a mountain-rill: And he the wanderer wandering by that stream Saw 'twas the river he had known in dream.

So day by day he journeyed; and it chanced One day he fared till night was well advanced Ere lying down to sleep; and when he waked Next morn, his bones and all his body ached, And on his temples lay a weary heat, And with sore pain he got upon his feet.

Yet when he rose and hard at hand espied The City sloping to the riverside, With bright white walls and golden port agleam, Such as he saw them figured in the dream-- Then the blood leapt as fire along his veins And the o'erwearied limbs forgat their pains.

But when he strove to make what speed he might Toward the happy haven full in sight, The feet that would have hastened thereunto Could not; and heavily, as old men do, He fell to earth, and groaned aloud and said, "Old man, what would'st thou, with thy silvered head, Yonder, where all their tresses be as gold Forever?--Thou art suffered to behold The city of thy search: what wilt thou more?

Tarry thou here upon this river-sh.o.r.e; Thou mightest farther go nor find the gra.s.s Greener, whereon to lay thy head, and pa.s.s Into the deep dark populous empty land."

So spake the man, not able to withstand This dumb remonstrance of the flesh, now first Thwarting the soul. Howbeit a mighty thirst Consumed him, and he crawled unto the brink Of the clear stream hard by, that he might drink One draught thereof, and with the water still His deep desire. When lo a miracle!

No sooner had he drunken than his whole Body was changed and did from crown to sole The likeness of its youthful self put on, The Prince of half-an-hundred years agone, Wearing the very garments that he wore What time his years were but a single score.

Then he remembered how that in The Dream One told him of the marvel of that stream, Whose waters are a well of youth eterne.

And night and day its crystal heart doth yearn To wed its youthhood with the sea's old age; And faring on that bridal pilgrimage, Its waters past the shining city are rolled, And all the people drink and wax not old.

PART THE TENTH

That night within the City of Youth there stood Musicians playing to the mult.i.tude On many a gold and silver instrument Whose differing souls yet chimed in glad consent.

And sooth-tongued singers, throated like the bird All darkness holds its breath to hear, were heard Chanting aloud before the comely folk, Chanting aloud till none-for listening spoke, Chanting aloud that all the city rang; And whoso will may hear the song they sang:--

I

O happy hearts, O youths and damsels, pray What new and wondrous thing hath chanced to-day, O happy hearts, what wondrous thing and new?

Set the gold sun with kinglier-mightful glance, Rose the maid-moon with queenlier countenance, Came the stars forth a merrier madder crew, Than ever sun or maiden-moon before, Or jostling stars that shook the darkness' floor With night-wide tremor 'neath their dizzy dance?

Strong is the Sun, but strong alway was he; The Moon is fair, but ever fair showed she; The Stars are many, and who hath known them few?

As now they be, so heretofore were they: What is the wondrous thing hath chanced to-day, O happy hearts, the wondrous thing and new, Whereof ye are glad together even more Than of the sunlight or the moonlight or The light o' the stars that strow the milky-way?