Toward the Gulf Part 29

Faith, if it be, said Old King Cole, There is a word that's more: Who is it goes to Spain and Troy?

And who to Elsinore?

One may be Quixote, said Pantagruel, Out for the final joust.

One may be Hamlet, said Pantagruel And one I think is Faust.

Whoever they be, said Pantagruel, Why stand at the window and drool?

Let's out and catch the runaways While the morning hour is cool.

Pantagruel runs to the castle court, And King Cole follows soon.

The cobblestones of the court yard ring To the beat of their flying shoon.

Pantagruel clutches the holy bottle, And King Cole clutches his crown.

They throw the bolt of the castle gate And race them through the town.

They cross the river and follow the road, They run by the willow trees, And the tiger banner and dragon banner Wait for the morning breeze.

They clamber the wall and part the brambles, And tear through thicket and thorn.

And a wild dove in an olive tree Does mourn and mourn and mourn.

A green snake starts in the tangled gra.s.s, And springs his length at their feet.

And a condor circles the purple sky Looking for carrion meat.

And mad black flies are over their heads, And a wolf looks out of his hole.

Great drops of sweat break out and run From the brow of Old King Cole.

Said Old King Cole: A drink, my friend, From the holy bottle, I pray.

My breath is short, my feet run blood, My throat is baked as clay.

Anon they reach a mountain top, And a mile below in the plain Are the glitter of guns and a million men Led by an idiot brain.

They come to a field of slush and flaw Red with a blood red dye.

And a million faces fungus pale Stare horribly at the sky.

They come to a cross where a rotting thing Is slipping down from the nails.

And a raven perched on the eyeless skull Opens his beak and rails:

"If thou be the Son of man come down, Save us and thyself save."

Pantagruel flings a rock at the raven: "How now blaspheming knave!"

"Come down and of my bottle drink, And cease this scurvy rune."

But the raven flapped its wings and laughed Loud as the water loon.

Said Old King Cole: A drink, my friend, I faint, a drink in haste.

But when he drinks he pales and mutters: "The wine has lost its taste."

"You have gone mad," said Pantagruel, "In faith 'tis the same old wine."

Pantagruel drinks at the holy bottle But the flavor is like sea brine.

And there on a rock is a cypress tree, And a form with a m.u.f.fled face.

"I know you, Death," said Pantagruel, "But I ask of you no grace."

"Empty my bottle, sour my wine, Bend me, you shall not break."

"Oh well," said Death, "one woe at a time Before I come and take."

"You have lost everything in life but the bottle, Youth and woman and friend.

Pa.s.s on and laugh for a little s.p.a.ce yet The laugh that has an end."