ISTRAM OE LYONESS - Forgotten Books · PDF file6 TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE Love, that sounds loud or light in all men’s ears, Whence all men’s eyes take ﬁre from sparks of tears,

RISTRAM OE LYONESSE

By

Alge rnon Charles Sw inburne

L O ND ON : W I L L IAM H E I NEMANN

F irst published 'Chatto', 1 8 82 . New Impressions,’82,

’84,

’

92,’

96,’

98, 1 903,’09.

’I 4

The Golden P ine Edition 'Heinemann', 1 9 1 7, 1 920

Included in Collected Poems 'Chatto', 1 908 'twice',’09 ,

'1 0,

’1 2 . 'Heinemann', 1 9 1 7

London William H einemann, 1 920

CONTENTS

TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE

PRELUDE : TRISTRAM AND ISEULT

THE SAILING OF THE SWALLOW

THE 'UEEN’S PLEASANCE .

TRISTRAM IN BRITTANY

THE MAIDEN MARRIAGE

ISEULT AT TINTAG EL

J oyous GARD

THE W IFE’S V IG IL

THE LAST PILG RIMAG E

THE SAILING OF THE SWAN.

TO MY BEST FRIEND

THEODORE WATTS DUNTON

VOL. III .

PRELUDE

TRISTRAM AND ISEULT

LOV E , that is first and last of all things made,

The light that has the living world for Shade,

The Spirit that for temporal veil has onThe souls of all men w oven in unison

,

One fiery raiment with all l ives inw roughtAnd lights of sunny and starry deed and thought

,

And alway through new act and passion newShines the divine same body and beauty through

,

The body spiritual of fire and lightThat is to worldly noon as noon to nightLove

,that is flesh upon the spirit of man

And spirit 'w ithin the flesh whence breath beganLove

,that keeps all the choir of lives in chime

Love,that is blood within the veins of tim e

That w rought the whole world without stroke of hand,

Shaping the breadth of se a , the length of land,And w ith the pulse and m otion ofhis breathThrough the great heart of the earth strikes life anddeath,

The sweet twain chords that make the sw eet tune liveThrough day and night of things alternative

,

Through silence and through sound of stress and

strife,

And ebb and flow of dying death and life

6 TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE

Love,that sounds loud or light in all men’s ears ,

Whence all men’s eyes take fire from sparks of tears ,That binds on all m en ’s feet or chains or wingsLove

,that is root and fruit of terrene things

Love,that the w hole world’s waters shall not drown ,

The whole world ’s fiery forces not burn downLove

,that what time his own hands guard his head

The whole world’s wrath and strength shall not strikedead '

Love,that if once his own hands make his grave

The w hole w orld ’s pity and sorrow shall not saveLove

,that for very life shall not be sold ,

Nor bought nor bound with iron nor with goldSo strong that heaven , could love bid heaven farewell,Would turn to fruitless and unflow e ring hellSO sweet that hell, to hell could love b e given ,Would turn to Splendid and sonorous heavenLove that is fire within thee and light above ,And l ives by grace of nothing but of loveThrough many and lovely thoughts and much desireLed the se twain to the life of tears and fireThrough many and lovely days and much delightLed these twain to the lifeless life of night .Yea, but what then albeit all this were thus,And soul smote soul and left it ruinous

,

And love led love as eyeless men lead m en ,

Through chance by chance to deathward—Ah,what

then PHath love not likewise led them further yet

,

Out through the years w here memories rise and se t ,

Some large as suns , som e moon-l ike warm and pale,Some starry-sighted

,some through clouds that sail

Seen as red flam e through spectral float of fume,

Each with the blush of its own special b loom

TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE

On the fair face of its own coloured light,Distinguishable in all the host of night,Divisible from all the radiant restAnd separable in splendour P Hath the best

Light of love ’s all , of all that burn and move ,A better heaven than heaven is P Hath not loveMade for all these their sw eet particular airTo Shine in

,their ow n beams and names to bear,

Their ways to wander and their w ards to keep ,Till story and song and glory and all things sleepHath he not plucked -from death of love rs deadTheir musical soft memories

,and kept red

The rose of their remembrance in men ’s eyes ,The sunsets of their stories in his Skies ,The blush of their dead blood in lips that speakOf their dead lives

,and in the listener’s cheek

That trembles with the kindling pity litIn gracious hearts for som e sweet fever-fit ,A fiery pity enkindled of pure thoughtBy tales that make their honey out of nought,The faithless faith that lives w ithout beliefIts light life through

,the griefle ss ghost of grief '

Yea, as w arm night refashions the sere bloodIn storm -struck petal or in sun-struck bud ,W ith tender hours and tempering dew to cureThe hunger and thirst of day’s distemperatureAnd ravin of the dry discolouring hours ,Hath he not b id relume their flam e le ss flowersWith summer fire and heat of lamping song,And bid the short-l ived things

,long dead

,l ive long,

And thought remake their wan funereal fames ,And the sweet shining signs of w omen ’s nam esThat mark the months out and the w eeks anewHe moves in changeless change ofseasons through

7

8 TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE

To fil l the days up of his dateless yearFlame from Queen Helen to Queen Guenevere PFor first of all the sphery signs wherebyLove severs l ight from darkness , and most high ,I n the white front of January there glowsThe rose-red sign of Helen like a rose

And gold-eyed as the shore-flow e r shelterlessWhereon the sharp-breathed se a blows bitterness

,

A storm-star that the seafarers of loveStrain their wind-wearied eyes for glimpses of,Shoots keen through February’s grey frost and dampThe lam plike star of Hero for a lampThe star that Marlowe sang into our skiesWith mouth of gold, and morning in his eyesAnd in clear March across the rough blue seaThe signal sapphire of AlcyoneMakes bright the blown brows of the wind-foot yearAnd shining like a sunbeam-smitten tearFull ere it fall, the fair next S ign in sightBurns opal-wise with April-coloured lightWhen air is quick with song and rain and flame ,My birth-m onth star that in love ’s heaven hath nameIseult, a light of blossom and beam and show er,My singing S ign that makes the song-tree flowerNext like a pale and burning pearl beyondThe rose-white sphere of flower-named RosamondSigns the sweet head of Maytime and for JuneFlares like an angered and storm-reddening moonHer signal sphere

,whose Carthaginian pyre

Shadow ed her traitor’s flying sail with fireNext , glittering as the wine-bright jacinth-stone ,A star south-risen that first to music shone ,The keen girl-star of golden Juliet bearsLight northw ard to the m onth whose forehead wears

TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE 9

Her name for flower upon it, and his treesMix their deep English song with VeroneseAnd like an aw ful sovereign chrysoliteBurning

,the supreme fire that blinds the night ,

The hot gold head of Venus kissed by Mars ,Asun-flow e r among small sphered flowers of stars ,The light of Cleopatra fil ls and burnsThe hollow of heaven whence ardent August yearnsAnd fixed and shining as the sister-shedSweet tears for Phaethon disorbed and dead ,The pale bright autumn ’s amber-coloured sphere

,

That through September sees the saddening yearAS love sees change through sorrow, hath to nameFrance sca’

s and the star that watches flameThe embers of the harvest overgoneIs Thisb e ’s , slain of love in Babylon ,Set in the golden girdle of sweet S ignsA blood-bright ruby last save one light shinesAn eastern w onder of sphery chrysopras

,

The star that made men mad , Angelica’s

And latest named and lordliest, with a soundOf swords and harps in heaven that ring it round

,

Last love-light and last love-song of the year’s ,Gleams l ike a glorious emerald Guenevere’s .These are the S lgns wherethrough the year seesmove ,

Full of the sun , the sun-god which is love,A fiery body blood-red from the heartOutward , with fire -white w ings made wide apart,That close not and unclose not

,but upright

Steered w ithout wind by their ow n light and mightSweep through the flam e le ss fire of air that ringsFrom heaven to heaven with thunder of wheels and

w ings

VOL. III .

IO TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE

And ant iphone s of motion-moulded rhymeThrough spaces out of space and t imeless time .

SO shine above dead chance and conquered changeThe Sphered signs , and leave without the i r rangeDoubt and desire , and hOpe with fear for wife ,Pale pains , and pleasures long worn out of life .Yea

,even the Shadow s of them spiritless

,

Through the dim door of sleep that seem to press ,Form s w ithout form , a piteous people and blind,Men and no men , w hose lamentable kindThe shadow of death and shadow of life compelThrough semblances of heaven and false-faced hell ,Through dreams of light and dream s of darkness tostOn waves innavigable , are these so lost PShapes that w ax pale and Shift in sw ift strange wise ,Void faces with unspeculative eyes ,Dim things that gaze and glare , dead mouths thatmove ,

Feature less heads discrowned of hate and love,

Mockeries and masks of motion and mute breath ,Leavings of life , the supe rflux of deathIf these things and no m ore than these things beLeft when man ends or changes

, w ho can se e POr who can say with w hat more subtle senseTheir subtler natures taste in air less denseA life less thick and palpable than ours ,Warmed with faint fires and sweetened with dead

flowersAnd m easured by low music P how time faresI n that wan time-forgotten world of theirs ,Their pale poor w orld too deep for sun or starTo live in , where the eyes of Helen are ,And hers w ho made as God ’s own eyes to shineThe eyes that met them of the Florentine,

TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE 1 1

Wherein the godhead thence t ransfigured l itAll time for all men with the shadow of it P

Ah,and these too felt on them as God ’s grace

The pity and glory of this man ’s breathing faceFor these too , these my lovers , these my twain,Saw Dante

, saw God visible by pain,With lips that thundered and with feet that trodBefore men’s eyes incognisable GodSaw love and wrath and light and night and fireLive with one life and at one mouth respire ,And in one golden sound their whole soul heardSounding, one sweet immitigable word .

They have the night, w ho had like us the day

We , whom day binds , shall have the night as they.

We , from the fetters of the light unbound,Healed of our wound of living, shall sleep sound .

All gifts but one the jealous God may keepFrom our soul ’s longing, one he cannot—sleep .

This,though he grudge all other grace to prayer,

This grace his closed hand cannot choose but spare .This , though his ear be sealed to all that live,Be it lightly given or lothly

,God must give .

We, as the men whose name on earth is none,We too Shall surely pass out of the sunOut of the sound and eyeless light of things

,

Wide as the stretch of life ’s time-wandering wings ,Wide as the naked world and shadow less ,And long-l ived as the w orld ’s own weariness .Us too , when all the fires of tim e are cold

,

The heights shall hide us and the depths Shall hold .

U s too , when all the tears of tim e are dry,The night shall l ighten from her tearless eye .Blind is the day and eyeless all its l ight

,

But the large unbewildered eye of night

1 2 TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE

Hath sense and speculation and the sheerLimitless length of lifeless l ife and clear,The timeless space wherein the brief w orlds moveClothed with light life and fruitful with light love ,With hopes that threaten , and with fears that cease ,Past fear and hope

,hath in it only peace .

Yet of these lives inlaid with hopes and fears,

Spun fine as fire and jew elled thick with tears,

These lives made out of loves that long since were,

Lives wrought as ours of earth and burning air,

Fugitive flame,and water of secret springs .

And clothed with joys and sorrows as with wings ,Some yet are good , if aught be good , to saveSome while from washing wreck and wrecking wave .Was such not theirs , the twain I take , and giveOut of my life to make their dead life liveSome days of mine

,and blow my living breath

Between dead lips forgotten even of death PSo many and many of old have given my twainLove and live song and honey-hearted pain ,Whose root is sweetness and whose fruit is sweet,SO many and with such joy have tracked their feet,What should I do to follow P yet I too ,I have the heart to follow, many or fewBe the feet gone before me for the way,Rose-red with remnant roses of the dayW estw ard

,and eastward w hite w ith stars that break ,

Between the green and foam is fair to takeFor any sail the sea-wind steers for meFrom morning into morning, sea to sea.

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1 4 THE SAILING OF THE SWALLOW

The very veil of her bright flesh was madeAs of light woven and moonbeam-coloured shadeMore fine than moonbeams white her eyelids shoneAs snow sun-stricken that endures the sun ,And through their curled and coloured clouds of deepLuminous lashes thick as dreams in sleepShone as the sea’s depth swallowing up the sky’sThe Springs of unimaginable eyes .As the wave ’s subtler emerald is pierced throughWith the utmost heaven’s inextricable blue ,And both are w oven and molten in one sleightOf amorous colour and implicated lightUnder the golden guard and gaze of noon ,So glowed their awless amorous plenilune ,Azure and gold and ardent grey

,made strange

With fiery difference and deep interchangeInexplicable of glories m ult iformNow as the sullen sapphire swells toward stormFoam le ss, their bitter beauty grew acold ,And now afire with ardour of fine gold .

Her flow e r-soft l ips were meek and passionate,For love upon them like a shadow satePatient

,a foreseen vision of sweet things ,

A dream with eyes fast shut and plumeless w ingsThat knew not w hat man ’s love or life Should be,Nor had it s igh t nor heart to hope or seeWhat thing should come , but childlike satisfiedWatched out its virgin vigil in soft prideAnd unkissed expectation and the gladClear cheeks and throat and tender temples hadSuch maiden heat as if a rose ’s bloodBeat in the live heart of a lily-bud .

Between the small round breasts a white way ledHeavenward, and from slight foot to slender head

THE SAILING OF THE SWALLOW 1 5

The whole fair body flower-like ‘

sw ayed and shoneMoving

,and what her light hand leant upon

Grew blossom-scented her warm arms beganTo round and ripen for delight of manThat they should clasp and circle he r fresh hands,Like regent li lies of reflow e ring landsWhose vassal firstlings, crown and star and plume ,Bow down to the empire of that sovereign bloom ,

Shone sceptreless,and from her face there went

A silent light as of a God contentSave w hen , more sw ift and keen than love or shame,Some flash of. blood, l ight as the laugh of flam e,Broke it w ith sudden beam and shining speech

,

As dream by dream shot through her eyes,and each

Outshone the last that lightened , and not oneShowed her such things as should be borne anddone .

Though hard against her shone the sunlike faceThat in all change and wreck of time and placeShould be the star of her sweet l iving soul .Nor had love made it as his

‘

written scrollFor evil will and good to read in yetBut smooth and mighty, without scar or fretFresh and high-lifted w as the helmless browAs the oak-tree flower that tops the topmost bough

,

Ere it drop ofl before the perfect leaf 'And nothing save his name he had of grief

,

The name his mother, dying as he w as born,

Made out of sorrow in very sorrow’s scorn,

And se t it on him smiling in her sight,

Tristram ' w ho now, clothed with sweet youth andmight,

AS a glad witness wore that bitter name,

The second symbol of the world for fame .


Famous and full of fortune was his youthEre the beard ’s bloom had le ft his cheek unsmooth

,

And in his face a lordship of strong joyAnd height of heart no chance could curb or cloyLightened , and all that warmed them at his eyesLoved them as larks that kindle as they riseTow ard light they turn to music love the blue strongskies .

So like the morning through the morning movedTristram , a light to look on and be loved .

Song sprang between his lips and hands,and shone

Singing, and strengthened and sank down thereonAs a bird settles to the second fl ight

,

Then from beneath his harping hands with mightLeapt , and made w ay and had its fill and died ,And all whose hearts were fed upon it sighedSilent , and in them all the fire of tearsBurned as w ine drunken not with lips but ears .And gazing on his fervent hands that madeThe might of music al l their souls obeyedWith trembling strong subservience of delightFull many a m aid that had him once in sightThought in the secret rapture of her heartIn how dark onset had these b ands borne partHow oft

,and were so young and sweet of skil l

And those red lips Whereon the song burned still,

What w ords and cries of battle had they flungAthw art the swing and shriek of swords , so young 'And eyes as glad as summer, what strange youthFed them so fu l l of happy heart and truth ,That had seen sway from side to sundering sideThe steel flow of that terrible springtideThat the moon rules not, but the fire and lightOf men ’s hearts mixed in the mid mirth of fight .


Therefore the joy and love of him they hadMade thought more amorous in them and more

gladFor his fam e ’s sake remembered

,and his youth

Gave his fame flow e rlike fragrance and soft growthAs of a rose requickening, when he stoodFair in their eye , a flower of faultless blood .

And that sad queen to w hom his life was death ,A rose plucked forth of summer in mid breath,A star fall’n out of season in mid throeOf that life ’s joy that m akes the star’s life glow,

Made their love sadder toward him and m ore strong.

And in m id change of time and fight and songChance cast him w estw ard on the low sweet strandWhere songs are sung of the old green I rish land ,And the ' sky loves it , and the se a loves best,And as a bird is taken to man ’s breastThe sw eet-souled land w here sorrow sweetest singsIs wrapt round with them as w ith hands and wingsAnd taken to the sea’s heart as a flow er .There in the luck and light of his good hourCam e to the king’s court like a noteless manTristram

,and while some half a season ran

Abode before him harping in his hall,

And taught sweet craft of new things musicalTo the dear maiden mouth and innocent handsThat for his sake are famous in all lands .Yet w as not love between them , for their fateLay w rapt in its appointed hour at wait,And had no flower to Show yet, and no sting.

But once being vexed with some past woundking

Bade give him comfort of sweet baths , and thenShould I seult w atch him as his handmaiden ,

V OL . III


For his more honour in men’s sight , and easeThe hurts he had with holy remediesMad e by her mother’s m agic in strange hoursOut of l ive roots and life-compelling flow ers .And finding by the wound ’s shape in his side

This was the knight by whom their strength had diedAnd all their might in one man overthrownHad left their shame in sight of al l m e n shown

,

She would have slain him swordless with his swordYet seemed he to her so great and fair a lordShe heaved up hand and smote not then said he

,

Laughing What comfort shall this dead m an be ,Damsel P what hurt is for my blood to heal PBut se t your hand not near the toothed steelLest the fang strike it .

’ Yea, the fang,’

she said ,Should it not sting the very serpent deadThat stung mine uncle P for his slayer art thou,And half my mother’s heart is bloodless nowThrough thee , that m ad

’

st the veins of all her kinB leed In his wounds whose veins through thee ranthin .

’

Yet thought she how their hot chief’s violent heartHad flung the fierce word forth upon their partWhich bade to battle the best knight that stoodOn Arthur’s , and so dying of his wild m oodHad se t upon his conque ror’s flesh the sealOf his mishallowed and anointed steel

,

Whereof the venom and enchanted m ightMade the S ign burn here branded in her S ight .These things she stood recasting, and her soulSub s iding till its wound of wrath were wholeGrew smooth again , as thought still softening stoleThrough all its tempered passion nor m ight hateKeep h igh the fire against him lit of late


But softly from his smiling sight she passed .

And peace thereafter made between them fastMade peace between two kingdoms

,when he w ent

Hom e with hands reconciled and heart content,To bring fair truce ’twixt Cornwall ’s wild brightstrand

And the long wrangling wars of that loud land .

And when full peace was struck betwixt them twainForth must he fare by those green straits again,And bring back Iseult for a plighted brideAnd se t to reign at Mark his uncle ’s side .So now w ith feast made and all triumphs doneThey sailed between the moonfall and the sunUnder the spent stars eastward but the queenOut of

lw ise heart and subtle love had seen

Such things as might be,dark as in a glass ,

And lest some doom of these should come to passBethought her with her secret soul aloneTo work som e charm for marriage unisonAnd strike the heart of Iseult to her lordWith power compulsive more than stroke of sword .

Therefore with marve llous herbs and spells She

wroughtTo win the very wonder of her thought,And brew ed it with her secret hands and blestAnd drew and gave out ofher secret breastTo one her chosen and Iseult’s handmaiden ,B rangw ain , and bade her hide from sight of menThis marvel covered in a golden cup ,So covering in her heart the counsel upAs in the gold the wondrous wine lay closeAnd when the last shout with the last cup roseAbout the bride and bridegroom bound to bed

,

Then should this one word of her will be said

20 THE SAILING OF THE SWALLOW

To her new-married maiden child , that sheShould drink with Mark this draught in unity,And no lip touch it for her sake but theirsFor with long love and consecrating prayersThe wine was hallowed for their mouths to pledgeAnd if a drop fell from the beaker’s edgeThat drop Should Iseult hold as dear as bloodShed from her mother’s heart to do her good .

And having drunk they twain should be one heartWho were one flesh till fle shly death should partDeath, who parts al l . So B rangw ain swore , andkept

The hid thing by her while she waked or slept .And now they sat to see the sun againWhose light of eye had looked on no such twainSince G alahault in the rose-tim e of the yearBrought Launcelot first to sight of Guenevere .And Tristram caught her changing eyes and saidAs this day raises daylight from the deadMight not this face the life of a dead man PAnd I seult, gazing where the se a w as w an

Ou t of the sun ’s way, said ' I pray you notPraise me, but tell me there in Camelot,Saving the queen , who hath most name of fair 'I would I were a man and dwelling there

,

That I might win me better praise than yours,

Even such as you have for your praise endures ,That with great deeds ye wring from mouths of

men ,But ours—for shame , where is it ' Tell me then ,Since woman may not wear a better here

,

Who of this praise hath most save Guenevere P’

And Tristram , l ightening with a laugh held lnSurely a l ittle praise is this to w in ,



Praise for good hap , w ho so enskied aboveNot m ore in age excels us than m an ’s love .

There came a glooming light on Tristram ’s face

Answ ering God keep you better in his graceThan to sit down beside her in m en ’s sight .For if m en be not blind whom God gives lightAnd lie not in w hose lips he bids truth live ,Great grief shall Sh e be given , and greater give .For Merlin witnessed of her years agoThat she should w ork w oe and should suffer woeBeyond the race of w omen and in truthHer face

,a spell that know s nor age nor youth,

Like youth being soft,and subtler-eyed than age

,

With lips that m ock the doom her eyes presage,

Hath on it such a light of cloud and fire,

With charm and change of keen or dim desire,

And over all a fearless look of fearHung like a veil across its changing cheer

,

Made up of fierce foreknow ledge and sharp scorn,

That it w ere better she had not been born .

For not love ’s self can help a face which hathSuch insubmiss ive anguish of w an wrath ,Blind prescience and self-contem ptuous hateOf her own soul and heavy-foote d fate ,Writ broad upon it s beauty none the lessI ts fire of bright and burning bitternessTakes w ith as quick a flame the sense of menAs any sunbeam , nor is quenched againWith any drop of dewfall yea

,I think

No herb of force or blood-compelling drinkWould heal a heart that ever it m ade hot .Ay, and men too that greatly love her not,Seeing the great love of her and Lam oracke ,

Make no great m arvel , nor look strangely b acn

THE SAILING OF THE SWALLOW 23

When with his gaze about herShe goes byPale as a breathless and star-quickening sky

Between moonrise and sunset, and moves outClothed with the passion of his eyes aboutAs night with all her stars , ye t night is blackAnd She , clothed warm w ith love of Lam oracke ,

Girt with his worship as with girdling gold ,Seems a ll at heart anhungered and acold

,

Seems sad at heart and loveless of the light,As night

,star-clothed or naked , is but night .

And with her sweet eyes sunken , and the mi rthDead in their look as earth lies dead in earthThat reigned on earth and triumphed , I seult saidIs it he r shame of something done and deadOr fear of something to be born and doneThat so in her soul’s eye puts out the sun PAnd Tristram answered Surely, as I think,This gives her soul such bitterness to drink,The sin born blind , the sightless Sin unknown ,W rought when the summer in her blood w as blownBut scarce aflow e r, and spring first flushed her w i l lW ith bloom of dreams no fruitage should fulfil ,When out of vision and desire w as e ught

The sudden Sin that from the living thoughtLeaps a live deed and dies not then there cameOn that blind sin swift eyesight like a flam eTouching the dark to death , and made her m ad

With helpless knowledge that too late forbadeWhat w as be fore the bidding and she knewHow sore a life dead love should lead her throughTo what sure end how fearful and though ye tNor w ith her blood nor tears her way be wetAnd She look bravely with set face on fate

,

Ye t she knows well the se rpent hour at wait


Somewhere to sting and spare not ay, and he,Arthur

The king, quoth Iseult suddenly,Doth the king too live so in S ight of fear PThey say sin touches not a man so near

As shame a woman yet he too Should bePart of the penance, being more deep than sheSet in the sin .

'

Nay,Tristram said , for thus

It fell by wicked hap and hazardous ,That W ittingly he sinned no more than youthMay sin and be assoiled of God and truth ,Repenting since in his first year of reignAs he stood splendid w ith his foemen slainAnd light of new -blown battles , flushed and hotWith hope and life , came greeting from King LotOut of his wind-w orn islands oversea,And homage to my king and fealtyOf those north seas wherein the strange shapes swim ,

As from his man and Arthur greeted himAs his good lord and courteously, and badeTo his high feast who com ing with him hadThis Queen Morgause of Orkney, his fair wife ,In the green middle Maytime of her life ,And scarce in Apri l w as our king’s as then ,And goodliest w as he of all flowering m en ,

And of what graft as yet himse lf knew notBut cold as rains in autumn was King LotAnd grey-grown out of season so there sprangSwift love betw e en them ,

and all spring through sangLight in their joyous hearing for none knewThe bitter bond of blood between them two ,Twain fathers but one mother, til l too lateThe sacred mouth of Merlin set forth fate


And brake the secret seal on Arthur’s birth ,And showed his ruin and his rule on earthInextricable

,and light on lives to be .

For surely,though time slay us , yet Shall we

Have such high name and lordship of good days

As shal l sustain us living, and m en’s praise

Shall burn a beacon lit above us dead .

And of the king how shall not this be saidWhen any of us from any mouth has praise ,That such were men in only this king’s days ,In Arthur’s P yea, come shine or shade , no lessHis name shall be one name with knightliness ,His fam e one light with sunlight . Yet in soothH is age shall bear the burdens of his youthAnd bleed from his own bloodshed for indeedBlind to him blind his sister brought forth seed

,

And of the child between them shall be bornDestruction so shal l God not suffer scorn

,

Nor in men’s souls and lives his law lie dead .

And as one moved and marvelling Iseult saidGreat pity it is and strange it seems to meGod could not do them so much right as we

,

Who slay not men for witless evi l doneAnd these the noblest under God ’s glad sun

For sin they knew not he that knew shall slay,

And smite blind men for stumbling in fair day.

What good is it to God that such should die PShall the sun’s l ight grow sunnier in the SkyBecause their l ight of spirit is clean put out PAnd sighing, She looked from wave to cloud about ,And e ven with that the full-grown feet of daySprang upright on the quivering water-way

,

And his face burned against her meeting faceMost like a lover’s thrilled with great love ’s grace

VOL . III . E


Whose glance takes fire and gives ' the quick sea

shoneAnd shivered l ike spread wings of angels blownBy the sun’s breath before him and a lowSweet gale shook all the foam-flow e rs of thin snowAs into rainfall of sea-roses ShedLeaf by wild leaf on that green garden-bedWhich tempests till and sea-winds turn and p loughFor rosy and fiery round the running prowFlu t t e red the flake s and feathers of the Spray,And bloomed like b lossoms cast by God aw ayTo waste on the ardent water swift the moonWithered to w e stward as a face in sw oonDeath-stricken by glad tidings and the heightThrobbed and the centre quivered with delightAnd the depth quailed with passion as of love ,Till l ike the heart of some new-mated doveAir

,l ight, and wave seemed full of burning rest,

With motion as of one God ’s beating breast .And her heart sprang in Iseult , and she drewWith all her spirit and life the sunrise through ,And through her l ips the keen triumphant airSea-scented , sweeter than land-roses were ,And through her eyes the whole rejoicing eastSun-sat isfied, and all the heaven at feastSpread for the morning and the imperious mirthOf wind and light that moved upon the earth ,Making the spring, and all the fruitful mightAnd strong regeneration of delightThat swells the seedling leaf and sapling man

,

Since the first life In the first world beganTo burn and burgeon through void limbs and veins,And the first love with sharp sweet procreant pains


To pierce and bring forth rose-

s yea, she feltThrough her own soul the sovereign morning melt ,And all the sacred passion of the sunAnd as the young clouds flamed and were undoneAbout him coming

,touched and burnt away

In rosy ruin and yellow spoil of day,The sweet veil of her body and corporal senseFelt the dawn also cleave it, and incenseW ith light from inward and w ith effluent heatThe kindling soul through fle shly hands and feet .And as the august great blossom of the dawnBurst, and the full sun scarce from sea withdrawnSeemed on the fiery water a flower afloat,So as a fire the mighty morning smoteThroughout her, and incensed with the influe nt hourHer whole soul ’s one great mystical red flowerBurst

,and the bud of her sweet spirit broke

Rose-fashion , and the strong spring at a strokeThrilled , and was cloven, and from the full sheathcame

The whole rose of the woman red as flameAnd all her Mayday blood as from a swoonFlushed , and May rose up in her and was June .SO for a space her heart as heavenw ard burnedThen with half summer in her eyes She turned,And on her lips w as April yet, and smiled,As though the spirit and sense unreconciledShrank laughing back , and would not ere its hourLet life put forth the irrevocable flower.And the soft speech between them grew againWith questionings and records of what menRose mightiest , and what names for love or fightShone starriest overhead of queen or knight .


There Tristram spake of many a noble thing,

High feast and storm of tournay round the king,

Strange quest by perilous lands of marsh and brakeAnd circling w oods branch-knotted like a snakeAnd places pale w ith s ins that they had seen

,

Where was no life of red fruit or of greenBu t all w as as a dead face w an and dunAnd bowers of evil builders w hence the sunTurns silent, and the m oon holds hardly lightAbove them through the si ck and star-crossed nightAnd of their hands through w hom such holds laywaste ,

And all thei r strengths dishevelled and defacedFell ruinous

,and were no t

‘

from north to southAnd of the might of Merlin ’s ancient mouth ,The son of no m an’s loins , begot by doomI n speechless sleep out of a spotless wombFor sleeping am ong graves where none had restAnd ominous houses of dead bones unblestAm ong the grey grass rough as old rent hairAnd w icked he rbage whitening like despairAnd blown upon with blasts of dolorous breathFrom gaunt rare gaps and hollow doors of death ,A m aid unspotted , senseless of the spell ,Felt not about her breathe som e thing of hel lWhose child and hers w as Merlin and to him

G reat l ight from God gave sight of all things dim

And wisdom Ofall wondrous things , to sayWhat root Should bear w hat fruit of night or day ,And sovereign speech and counsel higher than m an

Wherefore his youth like age was w ise and w an ,

And his age sorrowful and fain to sleep

Ye t should sleep never, neither laugh nor weep,



And of the kin of Arthur, and their m ightThe m isborn head of Mordred , sad as night,With cold waste cheeks and eyes as keen as pain ,And the close angry lips ofAgravaineAnd gracious Gawain

,scattering w ords as flowers,

The kindliest head of worldly param oursAnd the fair hand of Gareth , found in fightStrong as a sea-beast ’s tushes and as whiteAnd of the king’s self

,glorious yet and glad

For all the toil and doubt of doom he had ,Clothed with men’s loves and full of kingly days .Then Iseult said Let each knight have his praise

And each good man good witness of his worthBut when men laud the second name on earth ,Whom would they praise to have no worldly peerSave him whose love makes glorious Guenevere PNay

,

' Tristram said , such man as he is none . '

What,said She

,there is none such under sup

Of all the large earth ’s l iving P yet I deem edMen spake of one—but maybe men that dreamed

,

Fools and tongue-stricken, witless , babbler’s breed

That for all high things w as his peer indeedSave this one highest , to be so loved and love .And Tristram Little wit had these thereofFor there is none such in the world as this . '

Ay, upon land ,' quoth Iseult

,none such is ,

I doubt not , nor where fighting folk may beBut were there none such between Sky and sea ,The world ’s who le worth were poorer than I wist .And Tristram took her flow e r-white hand andkissed

,

Laughing and through his fair face as in shameThe l ight blood l ightened . Hear they no suchname P


She said and he , If there be such a word ,I wot the queen’s poor harper hath not heard .

Then,as the fuller-feathered hours grew long

,

He holp to speed their warm slow feet with song.

Love , is it morning risen or night deceasedThat m akes the m irth ofthis trium phant east 'Is it bliss given or bitterness put by

That make s most glad m en’s hearts at love ’s high feast'

G rie f smile s, 'oyw e eps, that day should live and die .

Is it w ith soul’s thirst or w ith body’s drouthThat summ er yearns out sunw ard to the south,W ith all the flow ers that when thy birth drew nighWe re molten in one rose to m ake thymouth '0 love , what care though day Should live and dIe

IS the sun glad ofall the love on earth,The spirit and sense and work ofthings and worth 'Is the moon sad because the m onth must fly

And bring her death that can but bring back birth 'For all these things as daymust live and die .

Love , is it day that makes the e thyde lightOr thou that se est daymade out ofthy light PLove , as the sun and sea are thou and I,

Sea w ithout sun dark, sun w ithout sea brightThe sun is one though day should live and die .

O which is e lder, night or light, who know sAnd life or love , which first ofthese twain grow sPFor life is born of love to wail and cry,

And love is born oflife to heal his w oes,And light ofnight, that day should live and die .

0 sun ofheaven above the worldly sea,0 very love , what light is this ofthe eMy sea ofsoul is dee p as thou art high,

But all thy light is shed through all ofm e ,

As love ’s through love , while day Shall live and die .


Nay, said Iseult, your song is hard to read .

Ay P said he or too light a song to heed,

Too slight to follow, it may be P Who shall SingOf love but as a churl before a kingIf by love ’s w orth m e n rate his worthiness PYet as the poor churl ’s worth to S ing IS less

,

Surely the more shall be the great king’s graceTo Show for churlish love a kindlier face .No churl , she said , but one in soothsayer’swise

W ho tells but truths that help no more than lies .I have heard men sing of love a sim pler w ay

Than these wrought riddles made of night andday,

Like jew elled reins Whereon the rhyme-bells hang .

And Tristram smiled and changed his song andsang .

The breath betw een my lips oflips not m ine ,Like spirit in sense that makes pure sense divine ,Is as life in them from the living sky

That entering fills my heart w ith blood ofthineAnd the e w ith m e , while day shall live and die .

Thy soul is shed into m e w ith thybreath,And in my heart each heartbeat ofthe e saithHow in thy life the lifesprings ofm e lie ,

Even one life to b e gathe red ofone de athIn m e and thee , though day may live and die .

Ah , who knows now if in my ve ins it b eMy blood that fe e ls life sw e et, or blood ofthe e ,And this thine eyesight kindled in m ine eye

That show s m e in thy flesh the soul ofm e ,

For thine made m ine , wh ile daymay live and die '


Ah , who knows ye t if one b e twain or one ,

And sunlight separable again from sun,

And I from the e w ith all my lifesprings dry,

And thou from m e w ith all thine heartbeats done ,Dead separate souls while day shall live and die '

I see mysoul w ithin thine eyes, and hearMy Spirit in all thy pulses thrill w ith fear,And in my lips the passion ofthee sigh,

And music ofm e made in m ine own ear

Am I not thou while day shall live and die '

Art thou not I as I thy love am thou 'So le t all th ings pass from us w e are now ,

For all that was and w ill b e , who know s why'And all that is and is not , who know s how 'Who knows ' God knows whyday should live and die .

And Iseult mused and spake no word, but soughtThrough all the hushed ways of her tonguelessthought

What face or covered l ikeness of a faceIn w hat veiled hour or dream-determined placeShe seeing might take for love ’s face, and believeThis w as the spirit to whom all spirits cleave .For that sw eet wonder of the twain made oneAnd each one twain , incorporate sun with sun,Star with star molten, soul w ith soul imbued,And all the soul ’s works

,all their multitude ,

Made one thought and one vision and one song,

Love—this thing,this

,laid hand on her so strong

She could not choose but yearn till she should se e .

So went she m using down her thoughts but he,

Sw eet-hearted as a bird that takes the sunW ith clear strong eyes and feels the glad god run

V OL. III .

34. THE SAILING OF THE SWALLOW

Bright through his blood and wide rejoicing wings,

And opens all himself to heaven and sings,

Made her mind light and full of noble mirthW ith words and songs the gladdest grow n on earth,Till she w as blithe and high of heart as he .So swam the Swallow through the springing sea.And while they sat at speech as at a feast

,

Came a light wind fast hardening forth of the eastAnd blackening till its might had marred the SkiesAnd the sea thrilled as with heart-sundering sighsOne after one drawn , with each breath it drew,

And the green hardened into i ron blue,

And the soft light went out of all it s face .Then Tristram girt him for an oarsman ’s placeAnd took his oar and smote , and toiled with mightIn the east wind ’s full face and the strong sea’s spiteLabouring and all the rowers rowed hard, but heMore mightily than any wearier three .And Iseult watched him rowing with sinless eyesThat loved him but in holy girl ish wiseFor noble j oy in his fair manlinessAnd trust and tender wonder none the lessShe thought if God had given her grace to beMan

,and make w ar on danger of earth and sea,

Even such a man she would be for his strokeWas mightiest as the mightier water broke ,And in sheer measure like strong music draveClean through the wet weight of the wal lowingwave

And as a tune before a great king playedFor triumph w as the tune thei r strong strokes made,And sped the ship through with smooth strife of

oarsOver the mid sea’s grey foam-paven floors,


For all the loud breach of the w aves at will .So for an hour they fought the storm out still ,And the shorn foam spun from the blades , and highThe kee l sprang from the wave-ridge , and the skyGlared at them for a breath’s space through therain

Then the bows with a sharp shock plunged againDown, and the sea clashed on them ,

and so roseThe bright stem like one panting from swift blows,And as a swimmer’s joyous beaten headRears itself laughing

, so in that sharp steadThe light ship lifted her long quivering bowsAs m ight the man his buffeted strong brow sOut of the wave-breach for with one stroke yetWent all men ’s oars together , strongly setAs to loud music, and with hearts upliftThey sm ote their strong way through the drench anddrift

Till the keen hour had chafed itself to deathAnd the east wind fell fitfully, breath by breath ,Tired and across the thin and slackening rainSprang the face southward of the sun again .

Then all they rested and were eased at heartAnd Iseult rose up where she sat apart,And with her sweet soul deepening her deep eyesCast the furs from her and subtle embroideriesThat w rapped her from the storming rain and

spray,And shining like all April in one day,Hair, face , and throat dashed with the strayingshowers

,

She stood the first of all the whole world ’s flowers ,And laughed on Tristram w ith her eyes , and said,I too have heart then

,I was not afraid. '


And answering some light courteous word of graceHe saw her clear face lighten on his faceUnwittingly

,with unenamoured eyes ,

For the last time . A live man in such wiseLooks in the deadly face of his fixed hourAnd laughs with lips wherein he hath no powerTo keep the life yet some five minutes ’ space .SO Tristram looked on Iseult face to faceAnd knew not , and She knew not . The last timeThe last that should be told in any rhymeHeard anywhere on mouths of S inging menThat ever should sing praise of them againThe last hour of their hurtless hearts at rest,The last that peace should touch them , breast tobreast

,r

‘

The last that sorrow far from them should sit ,This last w as with them

,and they knew not it .

For Tristram being athirst with toil now spake ,Saying

,I seult, for all dear love

’s labour’s sakeGive me to drink, and give me for a pledgeThe touch of four lips on the beaker’s edge .And Iseult sought and w ould not wake B rangw ainWho slept as one half dead with fear and pain ,Being tender-natured so with hushed light feetWent Iseult round her

,with soft looks and sweet

Pitying her pain so sweet a spirited thingShe w as , and daughter of a kindly king.

And spying what strange bright secret charge w askept

Fast in that maid ’s white bosom while she Slept,She sought and drew the gold cup forth and smile dMarvelling, with such light wonder as a chi ldThat hears of glad sad l ife in magic lands

And bare it back to Tristram with pure hands



Hung with strange eyes and hovered as a birdWounded , and each mouth trembled for a wordTheir heads neared, and their hands were drawnone,

And they saw dark, though still the unsunken sunFar through fine rain shot fire into the southAnd their four lips became one burning mouth .

THE QUEEN ’S PLEASANCE

OUT of the night arose the second day,And saw the ship’s bows break the shoreward spray.As the

'

sun ’s boat of gold and fire beganTo sail the se a of heaven unsailed of man

,

And the soft waves of sacred air to breakRound the prow launched into the morning’s lake,They saw the sign of their sea-travel done .Ah

,was not something seen of yester-sun ,

When the sweet light that lightened all the skiesSaw nothing fairer than one maiden’s eyes ,That whatsoever in all time’s years may beTo-day’s sun nor to-morrow’s sun shall se e PNot w hile she lives , not when she comes to die,Shall she look sunw ard with that s inless eye .Yet fairer now than song may Show them standTristram and Iseult, hand in amorous hand ,Soul-sat isfied, their eyes made great and brightWith all the love of all the livelong nightWith all its hours yet singing in their earsNO mortal music made of thoughts and tears

,

But such a song,past conscience of man’s thought

,

As hearing he grows god and knows it not .

40 THE QUEEN S PLEASANCE

Nought else they saw nor heard but what thenight

Had left for seal upon their sense and sight,

Sound of past pulses beating, fire of amorous light .Enough

,and overmuch , and never yet

Enough , though love still hungering feed and fret,To fil l the cup of night which daw n must overset .For still their eyes w ere dimmer than with tearsAnd dizzier from diviner sounds their earsThan though from choral thunders of the quiringspheres .

They heard not how the landward waters rang,

Nor saw where high into the morning sprang,

Riven from the Shore and bastioned with the sea,

Toward summits where the north wind ’s nest mightbe ,

A wave-walled palace with its eastern gateFull of the sunrise now and wide at wait

,

And on the mighty-moulded stairs that clombSheer from the fierce l ip of the lapping foamThe knights of Mark that stood before the wall .So with loud j oy and storm of festivalThey brought the bride in up the towery w ay

That rose against the rising front of day,Stair based on stair, between the rocks unhewn ,To those strange halls wherethrough the tidal tuneRang loud or lower from soft or strengthening sea,Tower shouldering tower, to windward and to lee,With change of floors and stories , fl ight on fl ight

,

That clomb and curled up to the crowning heightWhence men might se e wide east and west in oneAnd on one se a waned moon and mounting sun .

And severed from the sea-rock ’s base , where standSome worn wal ls yet they saw the broken strand,

THE QUEEN ’S PLEASANCE 4 1

The beachless cl iffthat in the sheer se a clips,The Sleepless shore inexorable to ships ,And the straight causeway ’s bare gap nt spine betweenThe sea-spanned walls and naked mainland ’s green .

On the mid stairs , between the light and dark,Before the main tower’s portal stood King Mark,Crowned and his face was as the face of oneLong t ime athirst and hungering for the sunIn barren thrall of bitter bonds , who nowThinks here to feel its blessing on his brow.

A swart lean man , but kinglike , sti ll of guise ,With black streaked beard and cold unquiet eyes

,

Close-mouthed , gaunt-checked, wan as a morningmoon ,

Though hardly time on his worn hair had strewnThe thin first ashes from a sparing handYet little fire there burnt upon the brand

,

And way-worn seemed he with life’s wayfaring .

So between shade and sunlight stood the king,And his face changed nor yearned not toward hisbride

But fixed between mild hope and patient prideAbode what gift of rare or lesser worthThis day might bring to all his days on earth .

But at the glory of her when she cameHis heart endured not very fear and shameSmote him , to take her by the hand and kiss ,Till both were molten in the burning bliss

,

And with a thin flame flushing his cold faceHe led her silent to the bridal place .There were they wed and hallowed of the priest 'And all the loud time of the marriage feastOne thought within three hearts w as as a fire,Where craft and fait h took counsel with desire .

VOL. 1 1 1 .

42 THE QUEEN ’S PLEASANCE

For when the feast had made a glorious endThey gave the new queen for her maids to tendAt dawn of bride-night, and thereafter bringWith marriage music to the bridegroom king.

Then by device of craft between them laidTo him went B rangw ain delicately, and prayedThat this thing even for love’s sake might not be ,But without sound or light or eye to se eShe might come in to bride-bed and he laughed ,As one that wist not well of wise love ’s craft

,

And bade all bridal things be as she would .

Yet of his gentleness he gat not goodFor clothed and covered with the nuptial darkSoft like a bride came B rangw ain to King Mark,And to the queen came Tristram and the nightF led , and ere danger of detective lightFrom the king sleep ing B rangw ain slid a ‘way,Ahawhere had lain her handmaid I seult lay.

And the king waking saw beside his headThat face yet passion-coloured, amorous redFrom lips not his , and all that strange hair shedAcross the tissued pillows , fold on fold,I nnumerable, incomparable , all gold ,To fire men’s eyes with wonder, and with loveMen’s hearts so shone its flowering crown aboveThe brows enwound with that imperial wreath ,And framed with fragrant radiance round the facebeneath .

And the king marvelled , seeing with sudden startHer very glory

,and said out of his heart

What have I done of good for God to blessThat all this he should give me , tress on tress ,All this great wealth and wondrous P Was it this

That in mine arms I had al l night to kiss,

THE QUEEN ’S PLEASANCE

And mix with me this beauty P this that seemsMore fair than heaven cloth in some tired saint’sdreams ,

Being part of that same heaven P yea, more , for he ,Though loved of.G od so ,

yet but seems to see ,But to me S inful such great grace is givenThat in m ine hands I hold this part of heaven,Not tomine eyes lent merely . Doth God m akeSuch things so godlike for man ’s mortal sake PHave I not sinned, that in this fle shly l ifeHave made of her a mere man’s very wife PSo the king mused and murmured and sheheard

The faint sound trembling of each breathless word,And laughed into the covering of her hair.And many a day for m any a month as fairSlid over them like music and as brightBurned with love ’s offerings many a secret night.And many a dawn to m any a fiery noonBlew prelude

,when the horn’s heart-kindling tune

Lit the live woods w ith sovereign sound of mirthBefore the '

m ight ie st huntsman hailed on earthLord of its lordliest pleasure , where he rodeHard by her re in whose peerless presence glowedNot as that white queen’s of the virgin huntOnce , whose crown-crescent braves the night-Wind

’sbrunt

,

But with the sun for frontlet of a queenlier front .For where the flashing of her face was turnedAs lightning w as the fiery light that burnedFrom eyes and brows enkindled more with speedAnd rapture of the rushing of her steedThan once with only beauty and he r mouthW as as a rose athirst that pants for drouth


Even while it laughs for pleasure of desire,

And all her heart w as as a leaping fire .Yet once more joy they took of woodland waysThan came of all those flushed and fiery daysWhen the loud air w as mad w ith life and sound

,

Through many a dense green m i le , of horn and houndBefore the king’s hunt going along the w ind

,

And ere the tim ely leaves were changed or thinned ,Even in mid maze of summ er . For the knightForth w as once ridden tow ard som e frontier fightAgainst the lewd folk of the Christless landsThat warred with wild and intermittent handsAgainst the king’s north border and there cameA knight unchristened yet of unknown name

,

Swart Palamede, upon a secret quest,To high Tintagel , and abode as guestIn likeness of a minstrel w ith the king.

Nor was there man could sound so sweet a string,Save Tristram only, of all held best on earth .

And one loud eve , be ing full of w ine and m irth,Ere sunset left the walls and waters dark

,

To that strange minstrel strongly swore King Mark ,By all that makes a kn ight’s faith firm and strong

,

That he for guerdon of his harp and songMight crave and have his liking . Straight there cameUp the swart cheek a flash of swarthier flame ,And the deep eyes fulfilled of glittering nightLaughed out in lightnings of triumphant lightAs the grim harper Spake O king

,I crave

N0 gift of man that king may give to slave ,But this thy crowned queen only

,this thy wife,

Whom yet unseen I loved , and se t mv l ifeOn this poor chance to compass

,even as here,

Being fairer famed than all save Guenevere . '



And soothfast skill of very love he mightFor courtesy find favour in her S ightAnd com fort of her mercies for he wistMore grace might come of that sw eet mouth unkissedThan joy for ‘

violence done it,that Should m ake

His nam e abhorred for shame ’s disloyal sake .And in the stormy starlight clouds were thinnedAnd thickened by short gusts of changing windThat panted like a sick m an’s fitful breathAnd like a moan of lions hurt to deathCam e the sea’s hollow noise along the night .But ere it s gloom from aught but foam had lightThey halted , being aweary and the knightAS reverently forbore her w here she layAs one that w atched his sister’s sleep ti ll day .

Nor durst he kiss or touch her hand or hairFor love and shamefast pity, seeing how fairShe slept , and fenceless from the fitful air .And sham e at heart stung nigh to death desire

,

But grief at heart burned in him l ike a fireFor hers and his ow n sorrow ing sake

,that had

Such grace for guerdon as m akes glad m en sad,

To have their w i l l and want it . And the daySprang and afar along the wild waste w ay

They heard the pulse and press of hurrying horse.hoofs play

And like the rushing of a ravenous flameWhose wings make tempest of the darkness , cameUpon them headlong as in thunder borneForth of the darkness of the labouring m ornTristram and up forthright upon his steedLeapt

,as one blithe of battle , Palamede ,

And mightily w ith shock of horse and m an

They lashed together and fair that fight began

THE QUEEN ’S PLEASANCE 47

As fair came up that,sunrise to and fro ,

With knees nigh staggere d and stout heads bent lowFrom each quick shock of spears on either side ,Reeled the strong steeds heavily, haggard-eyedAnd heartened high with passion of their prideAs sheer the stout spears shocked again

,and flew

Sharp-splintering then, his sword as each knightdrew,

They flashed and foined full royal ly, so long

That but to se e so fair a strife and strongA man might well have given out of his l ifeOne year’s void space forlorn of love or strife .As when a bright north-easter

,great of heart

,

Scattering the strengths of squadrons , hurls apartShip from ship labouring violently, in such toilAs earns but ruin—with even so strong recoilBack were the steeds hurled from the spear-shock,fain

And foiled of triumph then with tightened reinAnd stroke of spur, inveterate , either knightBore in again upon his foe with might

,

Heart-hungry for the hot-mouthed feast of fightAnd all athirst of mastery but full soonThe jarring notes of that tempestuous tuneFel l

,and its mighty music made of hands

Contending, clamorous through the loud waste lands ,Broke at once off and shattered from his steedFell

,as a mainmast ruining, Palamede ,

Stunned and those lovers left him where he lay,

And lightly through green lawns they rode away .

There w as a bower beyond man ’s eye more fairThan ever summer dew s and sunniest airFed full with rest and radiance t i ll the boughsHad wrought a roof as for a holier house


Than aught save love might breathe i n fairer farThan keeps the sweet light back of moon and starFrom high kings ’ chambers theremight love and SleepDivide for joy the darkling hours

,and keep

With amorous alternation of sweet strifeThe soft and secret ways of death and lifeMade smooth for pleasure ’s feet to rest and runEven from the m oondaw n to the kindling sun

,

Made bright for passion’s feet to run and restBetween the midnight ’s and the morning’s breastWhere hardly though her happy head lie downIt may forget the hour that wove its crownWhere hardly though her joyous limbs be laidThey may forget the mirth that midnight made .And thither, ere sweet night had slain sweet day,I seult and Tristram took, their wandering way

,

And rested , and refreshed their hearts with cheerI n hunters ’ fashion of the woods and hereMore sweet it seemed , while this might be , to dwellAnd take of all world’s weariness farewellThan reign of all w orld ’s lordship queen and king.

Nor here would time for three moons ’ changes bringSorrow nor thought of sorrow but sweet earthFostered them like her babes of eldest birth

,

Reared warm in pathless woods and cherished wel l .

And the sun sprang above the sea and fell,And the stars rose and sank upon the seaAnd outlaw-l ike

,in forest wise and free

,

The rising and the setting of their l ightsFound those twain dw ell ing all those days and nights.And under change of sun and star and moonFlourished and fell the chaplets woven of June ,And fair through fervours of the deepening sky

Panted and passed the hours that l it July,

THE QUEEN ’S PLEASANCE 49

And each day blessed them out of heaven above,

And each night crowned them with the crown of love.Nor til l the m ight of August overheadWeighed on the w orld was yet one rose leafshedOf all their joy’s warm coronal , nor aughtTouched them in passing ever with a thoughtThat ever th is m ight end on any dayOr any night not love them where they layBut like a babbling tale of barre n breathSeemed all report and rumour held of death

,

And a false bruit the legend tear-impearledThat such a thing as change w as in the world .

And each bright song upon his lips that cam e ,Mocking the pow ers of change and death by name

,

Blasphemed their bitter godhead, and defiedTime , though clothed round with ruin as kings wi thpride,

To blot the glad life out oflove and sheDrank lightly deep of his philosophyIn that warm wine of amorous words which isSweet with all truths of all philosophies .For well he wist all subtle ways of song

,

And In his soul the secret eye was strongThat burns in meditation, til l bright wordsBreak flam e like forth as notes from fledge ling birdsThat feel the soul speak through them of the spring.

So fared they night and day as queen and kingCrowned Ofa kingdom wide as day and night .Nor ever cloudlet swept or swam in SightAcross the darkling depths of their delightWhose stars no Skil l might number , nor man

’s artSound the deep stories of its heavenly heart .Till, even for w onde r that such life should live ,Desires and dreams of what death ’s self might give

V OL . I II . H


Would touch with tears and laughter and wi ld speechThe lips and eyes of passion , fain to reach,Beyond all bourne of time or trembling sense

,

The verge of love ’s last possible eminence .Out of the heaven that storm nor shadow mars

,

Deep from the starry depth beyond the stars,

A yearning ardour without scope or nameFell on them , and the brigh t, night

’s breath of flameShot fire into their kisses and like fireThe lit dews lightened on the leaves , as higherNight’s heart beat on toward midnight . Far and fainSomewhiles the soft rush of rejoicing rainSolaced the darkness , and from steep to steepOf heaven they saw the sweet sheet l ightning leapAnd laugh its heart out in a thousand smiles

,

When the clear se a for m iles on glimmering milesBurned as though dawn were strew n abroad astray

,

Or,showering out of heaven , all heaven

’s arrayHad paven instead the waters fain and farSomewhiles the burning love of star for starSpake words that love might wellnigh seem to hearIn such deep hours as turn delight to fearSweet as ‘delight’s self ever . So they layTranced once

,nor watched along the fiery bay

The shine of summer darkness palpitate and play.She had nor sight nor voice her sw ooning eyesKnew not if night or light were in the skiesAcross her beauty sheer the m oondaw n shedIts light as on a thing as white and deadOnly with stress of soft fierce hands she pre stBetween the throbbing blossom s of her bre astHis ardent face

,and through his hair her breath

Went quivering as w hen life is hard on deathAnd with strong trem bling fingers she strained fastHis head into her bosom till at last.

THE QUEEN ’S PLEASANCE 5 1

Satiate w ith sweetness of that burning bed,His eyes afire with tears , he raised his headAnd laughed into her lips and all his heartFil led hers then face from face fe l l

,and apart

Each hung on each with pant ing lips,and felt

Sense into sense and spirit in spirit melt .Hast thou no sw ord P I w ould not live til l day

0 love,this night and w e must pass away

,

I t m ust die soon , and let not us die late .'

Take then my sword and slay me nay,but wait

Till day be risen what , wouldst thou think to dieBefore the light take hold upon the sky P

' Yea, love ' for how shall we have twice, beingtwain,

This very night of love ’s most rapturous reign PLive thou and have thy day, and year by yearBe great

,but what shall I be P Slay me here

Let me die not when love l ies dead, but nowStrike through my heart : nay, sweet, what heart hastthou '

I s it so much I ask thee , and Spend my breathIn asking P nay, thou knowest it is but death .

Hadst thou true heart to love me , thou w ouldst giveThis but for hate ’s sake thou wilt let me live .Here he caught up her lips with his , and madeThe wild prayer silent in her heart that prayed

,

And strained her to him till all her faint breathsank

And her bright light limbs palpitated and shrankAnd rose and fluctuated as flowers in rainThat bends them and they tremble and rise againAnd heave and straighten and quiver all through withbliss

And turn afresh their mouths up for a kiss,

5 2 THE QUEEN ’S PLEASANCE

Amorous,athirst of that sweet influ ent love '

So,hungering towards his hovering lips above ,

Her red-rose mouth yearned S ilent, and her eyesC losed , and flashed after, as through June

’s darkestskies

The divine heartbeats of the deep live lightMake open and shut the gates of the outer night .Long lay they still , subdued with love , nor knewIf cloud or light changed colour as it grew,

I f star or moon beheld them if aboveThe heaven of night waxed fiery with their love

,

Or earth beneath were moved at heart and rootTo burn as they, to burn and bring forth fruitUnseasonable for love ’s sake if tall treesBowed

,and close flowers yearned open , and the

breezeFailed and fell silent as a flame that failsAnd all that hour unheard the nightingalesClamoured

,and all the woodland soul w as stirred ,

And depth and height were one great song unheard ,As though the world caught

‘

music and took fireFrom the instant heart alone of their desire .So sped their night of nights between themFor al l fears past and shadows , shine and snow,

That one pure hour all-golden where they layMade their life perfect and their darkness day .

And warmer waved its harvest yet to reap,

Till in the lovely fight of love and sleepAt length had sleep the mastery and the darkWas lit with soft live gleams they might not mark

,

Fleet butterflies,each like a dead flow e r

’

s ghost,

White, blue , and sere leaf-coloured but the mostWhite as the sparkle of snow-flow e rs in the sun .

Ere with his breath they lie at noon undone


TRISTRAM IN BRITTANY

As the dawn loves the sunlight I love theeAs men that shall be swallowed of the seaLove the sea’s lovely beauty as the nightThat wanes before it loves theyoung sweet l ight,And dies of loving as the worn-out noonLoves twilight , and as twilight loves the moonThat on its grave a silver seal shall se tWe have loved and S lain each other, and love yet .Slain for w e l ive not surely, being in twainIn her I l ived

,and in me she is slain ,

Who loved me that I brought her to her doom ,

Who loved her that her love might be my tomb .

As all the streams on earth and all fresh springsAnd Sweetest waters, every brook that sings ,Each fountain where the young year dips its wingsF i rst, and the first-fledged branches of it wave ,Even with one heart’s love seek one bitter grave .From hills that first se e bared the morning’s breastAnd heights the sun last yearns to from the w est

,

All tend but tow ard the sea , all born most highStrive downward , passing all things joyous by,Seek to it and cast thei r l ives in it and die .

T RISTRAM IN BRITTANY '

55

So strive all l ives for death wh ich all l ives w inSo sought her soul to my soul , and thereinW as poured and perished O my love , and mineSought to thee and died of thee and died as thine .As the dawn loves the sunlight that m ust ceaseEre dawn again may rise and pass in peaceMust die that she being dead may live again,To be by his new rising nearly slain .

So rolls the great wheel of the great world round,And no change in it and no fault is found

,

And no true life of perdurable breath,And surely no irrevocable death .

Day after day night comes that day m ay break,And day comes back for night’s reiterate sake .Each into each dies , each of each is bornDay past is night , shall night past not be morn POut of this moonless and faint-hearted nightThat love yet l ives in

,shall there not be light '

Light strong as love , that love may live in yet PAlas , but how Shall foolish hope forgetHow all these loving things that kill and dieMeet not but for a bre ath ’s space and pass by PNight is kissed once of dawn and dies , and dayBut touches twilight and is rapt away.

So may my love and her love meet once more,And meeting be divided as of yore .Yea, surely as the day-star lov

n'

és the sunAnd when he hath risen is utterly undone,SO is my love of her and hers of m e

And it s most sweetness bitter as the sea .

Would God yet dawn m ight se e the sun and dieThree ye arS °had looked on earth and passed it bySince Tristram looked on Iseult

,when he stood

So communing with dreams of evil and good,

56 TRISTRAM IN BRITTANY

And let all sad thoughts through his spirit swe epAs leaves through atr or tears through eyes that weepOr snowflakes through dark weather and his soul,That had seen al l those sightless seasons rollOne after one , wave over weary wave ,Was in him as a corpse is in its grave .Yet, for his heart w as mighty, and his mightThrough all the world as a great sound and l ight,The mood was rare upon him save that hereIn the low sundaw n of the lightening yearWith all last year’s toil and its triumph doneHe could not choose but yearn for that set sunWhich at this season saw the firstborn kissThat made his lady’s mouth one fire with his .Yet his great heart being greater than his griefKe pt all the summer of his strength in leafAnd all the rose of his sweet spirit in flowerStill his soul fed upon the sovereign hourThat had been or that should be and once moreHe looked through drifted sea and drifting shoreThat crumbled in the wave-breach

,and again

Spake sad and deep within him self ' What painShould make a man’s soul wholly break and die

,

Sapped as w eak sand by water P How shall IBe less than al l less things are that endureAnd strive and yield when time is P Nay, ful l sureAll these and w e are parts of one same endAnd if through fire or water w e twain tendTo that sure life where both must be made one

,

I f one w e be,what matter P Thou , 0 sun ,

The face of God,if God thou be not - nay,

What but God Should I think thee , what should say,

Seeing thee rerisen,but very God P—should I ,

I fool,rebuke thee sovereign in thy Sky,

TRISTRAM IN BRITTANY 57

The clouds dead round thee and the air alive ,The winds that lighten and the waves that striveToward this shore as to that beneath thy breath ,Because in me my thoughts bear all towards death0 sun , that when we are dead wilt rise as bright ,Air deepening up toward heaven

,and nameless light,

And heaven immeasurable , and faint clouds b lownB etween us and the lowest aerial zoneAnd each least skirt of their imperial stateForgive us that we held ourselves so greatWhat should I do to curse you P I indeedAm a thing meaner than this least wild weedThat my foot bruises and I know not— yetWould not be mean enough for worms to fretB efore their time and mine was

Ah , and yeLight w ashing weeds, b l ind waifs of dull blind sea,Do ye so thirst and hunger and aspire ,Are ye so moved with such long strong desireIn the ebb and flow of your sad l ife , and striveStill tow ard some end ye shall not se e aliveBut at high noon ye know it by light and heat

Some half-hour, till ye feel the fresh tide beatUp round you, and at night

’s most bitter noonThe ripples leave you haked to the moon PAnd this dim dusty heather that I tread ,These half-born blossoms , born at once and dead ,Sere brown as funeral cloths , and purple as pall,What if some life and grief be in them all P

Ay, what of these P but , 0 strong sun 0 sea

I hid not you,divine things comfort me

,

I stand not up to match you in your sightWho hath said ye have mercy toward us, ye who havemight P

VOL . III .


And though ye had mercy, I think I would not prayThat ye should change your counsel or your w ay

To make our life less bitter if such powerBe given the stars on one deciduous hour

,

And such might be in planets to destroyGrief and rebuild , and break and build up joy,What man would stretch forth hand on them to makeFate mutable

,God foolish

,for his sake P

For if in l ife or death be aught of trust ,And if some unseen just God or unjustPu t soul into. the body of natural thingsAnd in time’s pauseless feet and worldwide wingsSome spirit of impulse and some sense of willThat steers them through the seas of good and illTo some incognizable and actual end ,Be it just or unjust

,foe to man or friend

,

How Should w e make the stable spirit to swerve,

How teach the strong soul of the world to serve,

The imperious will in time and sense in spaceThat gives man life turn back to give man placeThe conscious law lose conscience ofits w ay,

The rule and reason fail from night and day,

The streams flow back toward whence the springsbegan ,

That less of thirst might sear the lips of man PLet that which is be

,and sure strengths stand sure,

And evi l or good and death or life endure ,Not alterable and rootless , but indeedA very stem born of a very seedThat brings forth fruit in season how should thisDie that was sown

,and that not be w hich is

,

And the old fruit change that came of the ancientroot ,

And he that planted bid it not bear fruit,


And he that watered smite his vine with drouthBecause its grapes are bitter in our mouth ,And he that kindled quench the sun with nightBecause its beams are fire against our sight,And he that tuned untune the sounding spheresBecause their song is thunder In our ears 'How should the skies change and the stars, andtime

Break the large concord of the years that chime ,Answering

,as wave to wave beneath the m oon

That draws them shoreward, mar the whole tide’s

tune

For the instant foam’s sake on one turning wave

For man’s sake that is grass upon a grave PHow fshould the law that know s not soon or late ,For whom no time nor space is— how Should fate ,That is not good nor evil, wise nor mad ,Nor just nor unjust

,neither glad nor sad

How should the one thing that hath being,the one

That moves not as the stars move or the sunOr any shadow or shape that lives or diesIn likeness of dead earth or living skies

,

But its ow n darkness and its proper lightClothe it with other names than day or night

,

And its own soul of strength and spirit of breathFeed it with other powers than life or deathHow should it turn from its great w ay to giveMan that must die a clearer space to live PWhy should the waters of the sea be cleft

,

The hills be molten to his right and left,

That he from deep to deep might pass dry-shod,

Or look between the viewless heights on God PHath he such eyes as , when the Shadows flee

,

The sun looks out with to salute the sea P


Is his hand bounteous as the morning’s hand P

Or where the night stands hath he feet to stand P

Will the storm cry not when he bids it cease P

Is it his voicie that saith to the east w ind , Peace PIs his breath mightier than the west Wind ’s breath P

Doth his heart know the things of life and death P

Can his face bring forth sunshine and give rain,

Or his weak will that dies and lives againMake one thing certain or bind one thing fast

,

That as he willed it shall be at the last P

How should the storms of heaven and kindled lightsAnd all the depths of things and topless heightsAnd air and earth and fire and water changeTheir l ikeness

,and the natural world grow strange

,

And all the lim its of their l ife undoneLose count of tim e and conscience of the sun ,And that fall under which was fixed above ,That m an might have a larger hour for love PSo musing with close lips and lifted eyesThat smiled w ith self-contempt to live so wise ,With silent heart so hungry now so long,So late grow n clear,

'

so miserably made strong,About the wolds a banished m an he w ent ,The brown wolds bare and sad as banishment ,By w astes of fruitless flow e rage , and grey downsThat felt the se a-wind shake their wild-flow e r

crow nsAs though fierce hands would pluck from some greyhead

The spoils of majesty despised and dead ,And fil l with crying and com fortless strange soundTheir hollow sides and heights of herbless ground .

Yet as he went fresh courage on h im cam e ,Ti ll dawn rose too within h im as a flame



His pai‘t of sun or storm-wind,and w as glad

,

For all things lost, of these good things he had .

And the spring loved him surely,being from birth

One made out of the better part of earth,

A man born as at sunrise one that sawNot without reverence and sweet sense of aweBut wholly without fear or fitful breathThe face of life watched by the face of deathAnd living took his fi l l of rest and strife

,

Of love and change , and fruit and seed of life,And when his time to live in light was doneWith unbent head would pass out of the sunA spirit as morning, fair and clear and strong,Whose thought and work were as one harp andsong

Heard through the world as in a strange king’s hallSome great guest’s voice that sings of festival .So seemed all things to love him ,

and his heartIn all their joy of life to take such part

,

That with the live earth and the living sea

He was as one that comm uned mutuallyWith naked heart to heart of friend to friendAnd the star deepening at the sunset’s end

,

And the moon fallen before the gate of dayAs one sore wearied with vain length of way

,

And the winds wandering, and the streams andskies ,

As faces of his fellows in his eyes .Nor lacked there love where he w as evermoreOfman and woman , friend of se a or shore ,Not measurable with weight of graven gold ,Free as the sun’s gift of the world to holdGiven each day back to man’s reconquering sightThat loses but its lordship for a night .


And now that after many a season spentIn barren ways and works of banishment

,

Toil of strange fights and many a fruitless field,

V entures of quest and vigils under shield,

He came back to the strait of sundering sea

That parts green Cornwall from grey Brittany,

Where dwelt the high king’s daughter of the lands,

I seult , ' named alway from her fair white hands,

She looke d on him and loved him but being youngMade shamefastness a seal upon her tongue

,

And on her heart, that none might hear its cry,Set the sweet S ignet of humility.

Yet when he came a stranger in her sight,

A banished man and weary, no such knightAs when the Swallow dipped her bow s in foamSteered singing that imperial Iseult home

,

This maiden with her sinless sixteen yearsFull of sweet thoughts and hopes that p layed at

fearsCast her eyes on him but in courteous wise,And 10 ,

the man’s face burned upon her eyes

As though she had turned them on the naked sunAnd through her limbs sh e felt sweet passion runAS fire that flow ed down from her face, and beatSoft through stirred veins on even to her hands andfeet

AS all her body were one heart on flame ,Athrob with love and wonder and sweet shame .

And when he spake there sounde d in her earsAs ’twere a song out of the graves of yearsHeard

,and again forgotten , and again

Remembered with a rapturous pulse of pain .

Bu t as the maiden m ountain snow sublim eTakes the first sense of April ’s trembling time


Soft on a brow that burns not though it b lushTo feel the sunrise hardly half aflush

,

So took her soul the sense of change,nor thought

That more than maiden love was more than nought.Her eyes went hardly after him , her cheekGrew scarce a goodlier flower to hear him speak

,

Her bright mouth no more trembled than a roseMay for the least wind ’s breathless sake that blowsToo soft to su e save for a s ister’s kiss

,

And if She sighed in sleep she knew not this .Yet in her heart hovered the thoughts of thingsPast, that with lighter or with heavier wingsBe at round about her memory, til l it burnedWith grief that brightened and with hope thatyearned ,

Se eing him so great and sad, nor knowing whatfate

Had bowed and crowned a head so sad and great.Nor might she guess but l ittle , first or last

,

Though all her heart so hung upon his past,

Of what so bowed him for what sorrow’s sakeFor scarce of aught at any time he spakeThat from his own land oversea had sentHis lordly life to barren banishment .Yet still or soft or keen remembrance clungClose round her of the least word from his tongueThat fell by chance of courtesy, to greetWith grace of tender thanks her pity , sweetAs running st raem s to men’s w ay

-wearied feet .And when between strange words her name wouldfall ,

Suddenly straightway to that lure’s recallBack would his heart bound as the falconer’s bird

,

And tremble and bow down b efore the word.

TRI STRAM IN BRITTANY 65

Iseult —and all the cloudlike world grew flame,

And all his heart flashed lightning at her nameIseult -and all the wan waste weary skiesShone as his queen ’s own love-enkindled eyes .And seeing the bright blood in his face leap upAs red wine mantling in a royal cupTo hear the sudden sweetness of the soundRing

,but ere well his heart had time to bound

His cheek would change , and grief bow down hishead ,Haply

,

' the girl ’s heart, though she spake not,said ,

I

This name of mine w as worn of one long dead ,Some sister that he loved and therewithalWould pity bring her heart more deep in thrall .But once

,when winds about the world made mirth

,

And March held revel hard on April ’s birthTill air and sea w ere jubilant as earth ,Delight and doubt in sense and soul began

,

And yearning of the maiden toward the man,

Harping on high before her for his wordWas fire that kindled in her heart that heard

,

And alway through the rhymes reverberate cameThe virginal soft burden of her nam e .

And ere the full song failed upon her ear

Joy strove within her ti ll it cast ou t fear,And all her heart w as as his harp , and rangSwift music, made of hope whose b irthnot e sprangBright in the blood that kindled as he sang .

Stars know not how w e call them , nor may flowers

' now by w hat happy nam e the hovering hoursBapti'e the ir new -born heads w ith dew and flam e

And Love , adored ofall tim e as of-ours,

Iseult, knew nought for ages ofhis nam e .

VOL . III .


W ith many tongues m en called on him,but he

W ist not w hich word ofall m ight worthiest b eTo sound for ever in his ear the sam e ,

Till heart ofman m ight hear and soul m ight se e ,Iseult, the radiance ringing from thy nam e .

Bymany nam esm en called him , as the nightBymany a nam e calls many a starry light,Her several sovere igns ofdividual fam e

But dayby one nam e only calls aright,Iseult, the sun that bids m en praise his name .

In many a nam e ofman his nam e soared highAnd song shone round it soaring, till the skyRang rapture , and the world

’s fast-founded frame

Trembled w ith sense oftrium ph, even as I,

Iseult, w ith sense ofworship at thynam e .

In many a nam e ofwoman sm iled his pow erIncarnate , as all summ er in a flow er,

Till w inter bring forgetfulne ss or sham e

But th ine , the keystone ofhis topless tow er,Iseult, is one w ith Love

’s own lordliest nam e .

Iseult my love , Iseult myqueen tw ice crowned,In the e mydeath, in the e my life lies boundNam es are there ye t that all m en

’s hearts acclaim ,

But Love ’s own heart rings answ er to the sound,Iseult, that bids it bow before thy nam e .

'

There ceased his voice yearning upon the word ,Struck with strong passion dumb but she

heardQuai led to the heart, and tremb led ere her eyesDurst let the

.

loving light within them rise ,And yearn on his for answer yet at last,Albe it not al l he r fear w as overpast,


Hope,kindling even the frost of fear apace

With sweet fleet bloom and breath of gradual grace,

Flushed in the changing roses of her face .And ere the strife took truce of w hite w ith red

,

Or joy for soft shame ’s sake durst lift up head,

Something she would and would not fain have said,And wist not what the fluttering word would be

,

But rose and reached forth to him her hand and he,

Heart-stricken,bowed his head and dropped his knee

,

And on her fragrant hand his l ips were fireAnd their two hearts w ere as one trembling lyreTouched by the keen wind’s kiss with brief desireAnd music shuddering at its ow n delight .So dawned the moonrise of their marriage night .

THE MAIDEN MARRIAGE

SPRING watched her last moon burn and fade withMay

While the days deepened toward a bridal day.

And on her snow b righ t hand the ring w as se t

While in the maiden’s ear the song’s word yetHovered , that hailed as love

’s own queen by nameIseult and in her heart the word was flameAtpulse of light, a breath of tender fire ,Too dear for doubt , too driftless for desi re .Between her fath er’s hand and brother’s ledFrom hall to shrine , from shrine to marriage-bed ,She saw not how by hap at home-comingFell from her new lord ’s hand a royal ring,Whereon he looked , and felt the pulse astartSpeak passion in his faith-forsaken heart .For this w as given him of the hand whereinThat heart’s pledge lay for ever so the sinThat Should be done if truly he should takeThis maid to wife for strange love ’s faithless sakeStruck all his mounting spirit abashed , and fearFell cold for shame’s sake on his changing cheer .Yea, shame

’s own fire that burned upon his browTo bear the brand there of a broken vow


70 THE MAIDEN MARRIAGE

What deeds for Cornwall had he done,and wrought

For all their sake what rescue , when he foughtAgainst the fierce foul I rish foe that cameTo take of them for tribute in their shameThree hundred heads of children whom in fightHis hand redeeming slew Moraun t the knightThat none durst l ift his eyes against

,not one

Had heart but he , w ho now had help of none ,To take the battle whence great shame it w ereTo knighthood , yea, foul shame on all men there ,To se e him die so shamefully nor durstOne man look up , nor one make answer first,Save even the

-

very traitor, w ho defiedAnd would have S lain him naked in his pride

,

But he , that saw the sword plucked forth to slay,Looked on his hands , and wrenched thei r bonds away,Haling those twain that he went bound betweenSuddenly to him , and kindling in his mienShone lion-fashion forth with eyes alight

,

And lion-wise leapt on that kinsman knightAnd wrung forth of his felon hands with mightThe sw ord that should have slain him weaponless ,And smote him sheer down then came all the pressAll raging in upon him but he wroughtSo well for his deliverance as they foughtThat ten strong knights rejoicingly he Slew

,

And took no wound,nor wearied then the crew

Waxed greater, and thei r cry on him but heHad w on the chapel now above the se aThat chafe d right under then the heart in himSprang, seeing the low cliff clear to leap , and swimRight out by the old blithe way the se a-mew takesAcross the bounding b illOw -belt that breaksFor ever, but the loud b i

‘ight chain it makes

THE MAIDEN MARRIAGE 7 1

To bind the bridal bosom ofthe landTime shall unlink not ever

,till his hand

Fall by its own last blow dead thence againMight he win forth into the green great mainFar on beyond , and there yield up his breathAt least, with God

’s wil l, by no shameful death,Or haply save himself, and come anewSome long day later, ere sweet life were through .

And as the se a-gull hovers high , and turnsWith eyes w he re

i

iii the keen heart glittering yearnsDown toward the sweet green sea Whereon the broadnoon burns,

And suddenly, soul-stricken with delight,Drops , and the glad wave gladdens , and the l igh tSees wing and wave confuse their fluttering white ,So Tristram one brief breathing-space apartHung, and gazed down then with exulting heartPlunged and the fleet foam round a joyous headFlashed , that shot under, and ere a shaft had spedRose again radiant , a rejoicing star,And high along the water-ways afarTriumphed and al l they deemed he needs mustdie

But G ouve rnayle his squire, that watched hard by,Sought where perchance a man might w in ashore ,Striving, with strong limbs labouring long and sore,And there abode an hour : ti ll as from fightCrowned with hard conquest won by mastering might,Hardly, but happier for the imperious toil,Swam the knight in forth of the close waves ’ coil

,

Sea-satiate , bruised with buffets ofthe brine,Laughing, and flushed as one

’

afire with wineAll this came hard upon h im In a breathAnd how he marvelled in his heart that death


Should be no bitterer than it seem ed to beThere

,in the strenuous impulse of the se a

Borne as to battle deathward and at lastHow all his after seasons overpastHad brought him darkling to this dark sweet hour

,

Where his foot faltered nigh the bridal bow er .And harder seemed the passage now to pass ,Though smoother-seeming than the still sea’s glass

,

More fit for very manhood ’s heart to fear,

Than all straits past of peril . Hardly hereMight aught of all things hearten him save one,Faith and as men ’s eyes quail before the sunSo quailed his heart before the star whose lightPut out the torches of his bridal night,So quailed and shrank with sense of faith’s keen starThat burned as fire beheld by night afarDeep in the darkness of his dreams for allThe bride-house now seemed hung with heavier pallThan clothes the house of mourning . Yet at last

,

Soul-sick with trembling at the heart, he passedInto the sweet light of the m aiden bowerWhere lay the lonely li ly-featured flowerThat

,lying within his hand to gather, yet

Might not be gathered of it . Fierce regretAnd bitter loyalty strove hard at strifeWith amorous pity toward the tender wifeThat w ife indeed might never be , to wearThe very crown of wedlock never bearChildren

,to watch and worship her w hite hair

When time should change , w ith hand more soft thansnow,

The fashion of its glory never knowThe loveliness of laughing love that livesOn l ittle lips of children all that gives

THE MAIDEN MARRIAGE 73

Glory and grace and reverence and delightTo wedded woman by her bridal right ,All praise and pride that flowers too fair to fall ,Love t hat should give had stripped her of them allAnd left her bare for ever . So his thoughtConsumed him , as a fire within that wroughtVisibly, ravening til l its wrath w ere spentSo pale he stood, so bowed and passion-rent,Before the blithe-faced bride-folk, ere he wentWithin the chamber, heavy-eyed and thereGleamed the w hite hands and glowed the glimmeringhair

That might but move his memory more of one morefair

,

More . fair than all this beauty but in soothSo fair she too shone in her flower of youthThat scarcely might man ’s heart hold fast its

truth,Though strong, w ho gazed upon her for her eyesWere emerald-soft as evening-coloured skies ,And a smile in them like the light thereinSlept, or shone out in 'oy that knew not sin,Clear as a child ’s own laughter and her mouth ,Albeit no rose full-hearted from the southAnd passion-coloured for the perfect kissThat signs the soul for love and stamps it his,W as soft and bright as any bud new-blownAnd through her cheek the gentler life b loom shoneOf mild wild roses h igh the northward se a .

So in her bride-bed lay the bride and heDrew nigh , and all the high sad heart in himYearned on her

,seeing the twilight meek and dim

Through all the soft alcove tremblingly litWith hovering silver, as a heart in it

VOL. III .


Beating, that burned from one deep lamp above ,Faint e r than fire of torches , as the loveWithin him fainter than a bridegroom ’s fire

,

NO marriage-torch red with the heart’s desire,

But silver-soft, a flam e le ss l ight that glowedStarlike along night’s dark and starry roadWherein his soul w as travelle r. And he sighed,Seeing, and with eyes se t sadly toward his brideLaid him down by her, and spake not but withinHis heart spake, saying how sore should be the sinTo break toward her, that of all womankindWas faithfulle st , faith pl ighted, or unbindThe bond first linked between them when they drankThe love-draught : and his quick blood sprang andsank ,

Remembering in the pulse ofal l his veinsThat red swift rapture, al l its fiery painsAnd al l its fie rie r pleasures and he spakeAloud , one burning word for love

’s keen sakeIseult and full of love and lovelier fear

Arvirgin voice gave answer I am here . '

And a pang rent his heart at root but still ,For spirit and flesh were vassals to his will ,St rong faith held masteryon them and the breathFelt on his face did not his wil l to death,Nor glance nor lute-like voice nor flow e r-soft touchMight so prevail upon it ove rmuchThat constancy might less prevail than they,For all he looked and loved her as she laySmiling and soft as bird alights on boughHe kissed her maiden mouth and blame less brow,

Once , and again his heart within him sighedBut al l his young b lood’s yearning toward his bride ,

THE MAIDEN MARRIAGE 75

How hard soe ’e r it held his life awakeFor passion , and sweet nature

’s unforbidden sake ,And will that strove unwill ingly with wil l it might notbreak,

Fell S ilent as a wind abashed,whose breath

Dies out of heaven,suddenly done to death,

When in be tween them on the dumb dusk airFloat ed the bright shade of a face more fairThan hers that hard beside him shrank and smiledAnd wist of all no more than might a child .

So had She all her heart’s will , al l she would,For love ’s sake that sufficed her, glad and good,All night safe s leeping in her maidenhood .

ISEULT AT TINTAGEL

BUT that same night in Cornwall overseaCouched at Queen Iseult’s hand , against her knee ,W ith keen kind eyes that read her whole heart’s painFast at wide watch lay Tristram ’s hound Hodain,

The goodliest and the mightiest born on earth,

That many a forest day of fiery mirthHad plied his craft before them and the queenCherished him , even for those dim years between,More than of old in those bright months far flownWhen ere a blast of Tristram ’s horn w as blownEach morning as the woods rekindled

,ere

Day gat full empire of the glimmering air,

Delight of dawn would quicken him , and fireSpring and pant in his breath with bright desireTo be among the dewy ways on questBut now perforce at restless-hearted restHe chafed through days more barren than the sand ,Soothed hard ly but soothed only with her hand

,

Though fain to fawn thereon and follow,still

With all his heart and all his loving willDesiring one divided from his sight

,

For whose lost sake dawn w as as dawn of nightAnd noon as night ’s noon in his eyes was dark .

But in the halls far under sat King Mark.


78 I SEULT AT TINTAGEL

God,for this love , if love be any, alas ,

In me to give thee , though long since there was,How long

,w hen I too , Lord , w as clean , even I ,

That now am unclean till the day I dieHaply by burning, harlot-fashion , madeA horror in all hearts of wife and maid,Hateful

,not knowing if ever in these mine eyes

Shone any light of thine in any wiseOr this were love at all that I bore thee PAnd the night spake, and thundered on the sea,Ravening aloud for ruin of lives and allThe bastions of the main cl iff’s northward wal lRang response out from all their deepening length

,

As the east wind girded up his godlike strengthAnd hurled in hard against that high-towered holdThe fleeces of the flock that knows no fold

,

The rent white shreds of shattering storm but sheHeard not nor heeded wind or storming sea ,

Knew not if night were mild or mad with w ind .

Yea, though deep lips and tender hair be thinned,Though cheek wither, brow fade , and bosom wane ,Shall I change also from this heart againTo maidenhood of heart and holiness PShall I more love thee

,Lord

,or love him less

Ah miserable though spirit and heart be rent ,Shall I repent , Lord God P shall I repent PNay, though thou slay me for herein I am blest,That as I loved him yet I love him bestMore than mine own soul or thy love or thee ,Though thy love save and my love save not me .Blest am I beyond women even herein ,That beyond all born women is my sin ,

And perfect my transgression that aboveAll offerings of all others is my love,

ISEULT AT TINTAGEL 7 9

Who have chosen it only, and put away for thisThee , and my soul

’s hope , Saviour, of the kissWherewith thy lips make welcome all thine ownWhen in them life and death are overthrownThe sinless lips that seal the death of sin ,

The kiss Wherewith their dumb lips touched beginSinging in heaven .

Where we shall never,love

,

Never stand up nor S ing for God aboveKnows us , how too much more than God to meThy sw eet love is, my poor love is to theeDear

,dost thou se e now, dost thou hear to-night ,

Sleeping, my waste wi ld speech, my face wornwhite,Speech once heard soft by thee, face once kissedred

In such a dream as when men see their deadAnd know not ifthey know if dead these be PAh love , are thy days my days , and to theeAre all nights like as my nights P does the sunGrieve thee P art thou soul-sick til l day be done ,And weary ti ll day rises P is thine heartFull of dead things as mine is P Nay

,thou art

Man , with man’s strength and praise and pride of

l ife,No bondwoman , no queen , no love less wifeThat would be shamed albeit she had not sinned .

And swordlike was the sound of the Iron wind,And as a breaking battle was the se a .

Nay, Lord , I pray thee let him love not me,Love me not any more , nor like me die ,And be no more than such a thing as I .Turn his heart from me , lest my love too loseThee as I lose thee , and his fair soul re fuse


For my sake thy fair heaven , and as I fellFal l , and be mixed with my soul and with hel l .Let me die rather, and only let me beHated of him so he be loved of thee

,

Lord for I would not have him with me thereOut of thy light and love in the unlit air

,

Out of thy sight in the unseen hell where IGo gladly, going alone , so thou on highLift up his soul and love him—Ah , Lord , Lord ,Shalt thou love as I love him P she that pouredFrom the alabaster broken at thy feetAn ointment very precious , not so sweetAs that poured likewise forth before thee thenFrom the rehallow ed heart of Magdalen ,From a heart broken , yearning like the dove ,An ointment very precious which is loveCouldst thou being holy and God , and sinful she,Love her indeed as surely she loved thee PNay

,but if not

,then as we sinners can

Let us love sti ll in the old sad wise of man .

For with less love than my love , having hadMine

,though God love him he shall not be glad

And with such love as my love , I wot well,He shall not lie disconsolate in hellSad only as souls for utter love’s sake beHere

,and a little sad, perchance , for me

Me happy, me more glad than God above ,I n the utmost hel l whose fires consume not loveFor in the waste ways emptied of the sunHe would say Dear, thy place is void , and oneW eeps among ange ls for thee , with his faceVeiled , saying, 0 sister , how thy chosen place

Stands desola te , tha t God madefa irfor thee's heaven not sw ee te r , and w e thy bre thren , w e

I SEULT AT TINTAGEL 8 1

Fairer than love on earth and life in hell PAnd I—with me were al l things then not we ll PShould I not answer 0 love , be w ell contentLook on me , and beho ld if I repent .

’

This were m ore to me than an angel’s wings .Yea

,many men pray God for many things

,

But I pray that this only thing may be . '

And as a full field charging was the se a,And as the cry of slain men was the wind .

Yea,since I surely loved him, and he sinned

Surely,though not as my sin his be black

,

God,give him to me—God , God , give him back

For now how should we live in twain or die PI am he indeed , thou knowest, and he is I.Not man and woman several as we were,But one thing w ith one life and death to bear.How should one love his own soul overmuch PAnd time is long since last I felt the touch ,The sweet touch of my lover, hand and breath ,In such delight as puts delight to death,Burn my soul through , til l spirit and soul and sense,In the sharp grasp of the hour, with violenceDied

,and again through pangs of violent birth

Lived,and laughed out with refluent might of mirth

Laughed each on other and shuddered into one,

As a cloud shuddering dies into the sun .

Ah , sense is that or spirit, soul or flesh,That only love lulls or awakes afresh PAh , sweet is that or bitter, e vil or good,That very love allays not as he would 'Nay, truth is this or vanity, that givesN0 love assurance when love dies or lives PThis that my spirit is wrung w ithal

, and ye t

No sure lie r knows if haply thine forget,

8 2 ISEULT AT TINTAGEL

Thou that my spirit is wrung for,nor can say

Love is not in thee dead as yesterday PDost thou feel, thou , this heartbeat whence my heartWould send thee word what life is mine apart

,

And know by keen response what life is thine PDost thou not hear one cry of all of mine PO Tristram’s heart, have I no part in thee PAnd all her soul w as as the breaking sea,

And all her heart anhungered as the wind .

Dost thou repent thee of the sin we sinned PDost thou repent thee of the days and nightsThat kindled and that quenched for us their l ights

,

The months that feasted us with al l their hours .The ways that breathed of us in all their flowers

,

The dells that sang of us with all their doves PDost thou repent thee of the wildwood loves PI s thine heart changed , and hallowed P art thougrown

God ’s,and not mine P Ye r, though my heart make

moan ,Fain would my sou l give thanks for thine

,if thou

Be saved—yea,fain praise God , and knows not how.

How Should it know thanksgiving ' nay, or learnAught of the love Wherewith thine own should burn ,God ’s , that should cast out as an evil thingMine P yea, what hand of prayer have I to cling,What heart to prophesy, w hat spirit of sightTo strain inse nsual eyes toward increate light ,Who look but back on life wherein I s inned PAnd all their past cam e wailing in the wind ,And all their future thundered in the sea .

But if my soul might touch the tim e to be,Ifhand might handle now or eye beholdMy l ife and de ath ordained me from of o ld,

ISEULT AT TINTAGEL 83

Life palpable,compact of blood and breath ,

Visible,present, naked , very death ,

Should I desire to know before the dayThese that I know no t , nor is man that may PFor haply, seeing, my heart would break for fear,And my soul tim eless cast its load offhere,I ts load of life

‘

too bitter, love too sweet,And ' fall down shamed and naked at thy feet ,God , w ho wouldst take no pity of it, nor giveOne hour back , one of all its hours to liveClothed with my mortal body, that once more ,Once, on this reach of barren beaten Shore ,This stormy strand. of life

,ere sail were set,

Had haply felt love’s arm s about it yetYea, ere death

’s bark put off to seaward , mightWith m any a grief have bought me one delightThat then should know m e never . Ah , what yearsWould I endure not , fil led up full with tears ,Bitter l ike blood and dark as dread of death ,To w in one amorous hour of m ingling breath ,One fire -eyed hour and sunnier than the sun ,

For all these nights and days like nights but one POne hour of heaven born once

,a stormless birth,

For all these windy weary hours of earth POne , but one hour from birth of joy to death,For all these hungering hours of feverish breath PAnd I Should lose this

,having died and sinned .

And as man’s anguish clamouring cried the w ind,And as God ’s anger answering rang the sea .

And yet what l ife—Lord God,what l ife for me

Has thy strong wrath made ready P Dost thou thinkHow lips whose thirst hath only tears to drinkGrow grey for grief untimely P Dost thou know

,

0 happy God , how men wax weary of w oe


Yea, for their wrong’s sake that thine hand hath done

Come even to hate thy semblance in the sun PTurn back from dawn and noon and all thy lightTo m ake their souls one with the soul of night PChrist , if thou hear yet or have eyes to se e ,Thou that hadst pity, and hast no pity on me ,Kh ow ’st thou no more , as in this life

’s sharp span,

What pain thou hadst on earth, what pain hath man P

Hast thou no care , that all we suffer yet PWhat h elp is ours of thee if thou forget 'What profit have we though thy blood were given

,

I f w e that sin bleed and be not forgiven PNot love but hate, thou bitter God and strange ,Whose heart as man ’s heart hath grown cold with

change ,Not love but hate thou show e st us that have sinned .

And like a world ’s cry shuddering was the wind,And l ike a God’s voice threatening was the sea .

Nay,Lord , for thou wast gracious nay, in thee

No change can come with time or varying fate,No tongue bid thine be less compassionate,No sterner eye rebuke for mercy thine ,No sin put out thy pity— no , not mine .Thou knowest us, Lord , thou knowest us , all we are ,He

,and the soul that hath his soul for star

Thou knowest as I know, Lord , how much moreworth

Than all souls clad and clasped about with earth,

But most of all , God , how much more than I ,I s this man’s soul that surely shall not die .What righteousness , what judgment, Lord mosthigh

,

W ere this, to bend a brow of doom as grimAS threats me , m e the adulterous wife, on him P



That once , albeit by not thy law,were one

Let this be not thy w i ll , that this be done .Let all else

,all thou wilt of evil

,be

,

But no doom , none , dividing him and me .By this w as heaven stirred eastward

,and there came

Up the rough ripple a labouring light like flameAnd dawn , sore trembling still and grey with fear,Looked hardly forth , a face of heavier cheerThan one which grief or dread yet half enshrouds ,Wild-eyed and w an , across the cleaving clouds .And Iseult, worn w ith watch long held on pain,Turned , and her eye lit on the hound Hodain ,

And all her heart went out in tears and heLaid his kind head along her bended knee ,Till round his neck her arms went hard

,and al l

The night past from her as a chain might fal lBut yet the heart within her

,half undone ,

W ailed , and was loth to let her see the sun .

And ere full day brought heaven and earth toflower,

Far thence , a maiden in a marriage bower,That moment, hard by Tristram , oversea,W oke with glad eyes I seult of Brittany.

JOYOUS GARD

A LITTLE time , 0 Love , a little light,A little hour for ease before the night .Sweet Love , that art so bitter ' foolish Love,Whom wise men know for wiser, and thy doveMore Subtle than the serpent for thy sakeThese pray thee for a little beam to break ,A little grace to help them , lest men thinkThy servants have but hours like tears to drink .

0 Love , a little comfort , lest they fearTo serve as these have served thee who stand here .

For these are thine, thy servants these , that standHere nigh the lim it of the wild north land

,

At margin of the grey great eastern sea,

Dense-islanded with peaks and reefs,that se e

No life but of the fleet wings fair and freeWhich cleave the mist and sunlight all day longWith sleepless flight and cries more glad than song.

Strange ways of life have led them hither,here

To w in fleet respite from desire and fearWith armistice from sorrow strange and sweetWays trodden by forlorn and casual feetTil l kindlier chance woke tow ard them kindlywi l lIn happier hearts of lovers , and their ill

88 JOYOUS GARD

Found rest, as heal ing surely might it not,By gift and kingly grace of LauncelotAt gracious bidding given of Guenevere .For in the trembling twilight of this yearEre April sprang from hope to certitudeTwo hearts of friends fast l inked had fallen at feudAs they rode forth on hawking, by the S ignWhich gave his new bride ’s brother G anhardineTo know the truth of Tristram’s dealing, howFaith kept of him against his marriage vowKept virginal his bride-bed night and mornWhereat, as wroth his blood Should suffer scorn ,Came G anhardine to Tristram , saying, Behold ,We have loved thee , and for love w e have shown of

o ldScorn hast thou shown us wherefore is thy brideNot thine indeed , a stranger at thy side ,Contemned P what evi l hath she done , to beMocked with mouth-marriage and despised of thee ,Sham ed

,se t at nought, rej ected P But there came

On Tristram’s brow and eye the shadow and flameConfused of wrath and wonder, ere he spake ,Saying

,Hath she bid thee for thy sister’s sake

Plead with me , w ho believed of her in heartMore nobly than to deem such piteous partShould find so fair a player P or whence hast thouOf us this knowledge P Nay,

' said he , but now ,

Riding beneath these whitethorns overhead ,There fell a flower into her girdlesteadWhich laughing she shook out

,and smiling said

Lo , what large leave the wind hath given this stray,To lie more near my heart than till this dayAught ever since my mother lulled me lay

JOYOUS GARD 89

Or even my lord came ever whence I wotWe are all thy scorn , a race regarded notNor held as worth communion of thine own ,Except in her be found some fault aloneTo blemish our alliance . ' Then repliedTristram

,Nor blame nor scorn may touch my bride,

Albeit unknown of love she l ive , and beWorth a man worthier than her love thought me .Faith only, faith withheld me , faith forbadeThe blameless grace Wherewith love ’s grace makesglad

All l ives l inked else in wedlock not that lessI loved the sweet light of her loveliness ,But that my love toward faith was more and thou,Albeit thine heart be keen against m e now,

Couldst thou behold my very lady, thenNo more of thee than of all other menShould this my faith be held a faithless fault .And ere that day their hawking came to halt,Being sore of him entreated for a S ign ,He sware to bring his brother G anhardineTo sight of that strange Iseult and thereonForth soon for Cornwall are these brethren gone,Even to that royal pleasance where the huntRang ever of Old with Tristram s horn in frontBlithe as the queen ’s horse bounded at his S ideAnd first of all her dames forth pranced in prideThat day before them

,with a ringing rein

All golden-glad,the king’s false bride B rangw ain,

The queen ’s true handmaid ever and on herGlancing, Be called for all time truth-teller,O Tristram , of all true men

’s tongues alive,

'

Quoth G anhardine for may my soul so thrive

VOL. III .

90 JOYOUS GARD

As yet mine eye drank never sight like this . '

AyP Tristram said , and she thou lOok’

st on isSo great in grace of goodliness, that thouHast less thought left of wrath against me now

,

Seeing but my lady’s handmaid P Nay

,behold

See ’st thou no light more golden than of goldShine where she moves in midst of all

,above

All,past all price or praise or prayer of love P

Lo , this is she .

' But as one m azed with wineStood , stunned in spirit and stricken , G anhardine ,And gazed out hard against them and his heartAs with a sw ord was cloven

,and rent apart

As with strong fangs of fire and scarce he spake,Saying how his l ife for even a handmaid’s sakeWas made a flame within him . And the knightBade him , being known of none that stood in sight,Bear to B rangw ain his ring

,that she unseen

Might give in token privily to the queenAnd send swift word where under moon or sunThey twain might yet b e no more twain but one .And that same night, under the stars that rolledOver their warm deep wildwood nights of oldWhose hours for grains of sand shed sparks of fire ,Such way was made anew for their desireBy secret wile of sickness feigned, to keepThe king far off her vigils Or her sleep ,That in the queen’s pavilion midway se tBy glimmering m oondaw n were those lovers met,And G anhardine of B rangw ain gat him grace .And in some passionate soft interspaceBetween two sw ells of passion , w he n .the ir lipsBreathed , and made room for such brief speech as slipsFrom tongues athirst with draughts of amorous wineThat leaves them thirstier’ than the salt sea’s brine ,

JOYOUS G ARD 9 1

Was counsel taken how to fly, and whereF ind covert from the wild world’s ravening airThat hunts with storm the feet of nights and daysThrough strange thwart l ines of life and flow e rle ss

ways .Then said Iseult Lo

,now the chance is here

Foreshown me late by word of Guenevere,

To give me comfort of thy rumoured wrong,My traitor Tristram

,when report w as strong

Of me forsaken and thine heart estrangedNor should her sweet soul toward me yet be changedNor all her love lie barren , if mine handCrave harvest of it from the flowering land .

See therefore if this counsel please thee not,

That'

w e take horse in haste for CamelotAnd seek that friendship of her plighted trothWhich love Shall be full fain to lend , nor lothShall my love be to take it . ' So next nightThe multitudinous stars laughed round their fl ight,Fulfil ling far with laughter made of lightThe encircling deeps of heaven and in brief spaceAt Camelot their long love gat them graceOf those fair twain whose heads men ’s praise impearled

As love’s two lordliest lovers in the worldAnd thence as guests for harbourage past theyforth

To w in this nob lest hold of all the north .

Far by wild ways and many days they rode,Till clear across June’s kingliest sunset glowedThe great round girth of goodly wall that showedWhere for one clear sweet season ’s length should - hé

Their place of strength to rest in , fain and free,By the utmost margin of the loud lone sea.

9 2 JOYOUS GARD

And now, 0 Love , what comfort P God mosthigh

,

Whose life is as a flow e r’

s to l ive and die ,Whose l ight is everlasting Lord , whose breathSpeaks music through the deathless l ips of deathWhereto time ’s heart rings answer Bard , whomtime

Hears,and is vanquished with a wandering rhyme

That once thy lips made fragrant Seer, whosesooth

Jo'

y knows not well , but sorrow knows for truth ,Being priestess of thy soothsayings Love , whatgrace

Shall these twain find at last before thy face PThis many a year they

‘

ahave served thee , anddeserved

,

I f ever man might yet of all that served ,Since the first heartbeat bade the first man’s kneeBend , and his mouth take music , praising thee ,Some comfort ' and some honey indeed of thineThou hast mixed for these with life’s most bitterwine ,

Commending to their passionate lips a draughtNO deadlier than thy chosen of old have quaffedAnd blessed thine hand

,their cupbearer’s for not

On all men comes the grace that seals their lotAs holier in thy sight, for all these feudsThat rend it

,than the light-souled multitude ’s ,

Nor thwarted of thine hand nor blessed but theseShall se e no twilight , Love , nor fade at ease ,Grey-grow n and careless of desired delight ,But l ie down tired and sleep before the night .These shall not l ive till time or change m ay chillOr doubt divide or shame subdue thei r w ill ,


94 JOYOUS GARD

And their great love w as mixed with all thingsgreat,

As life being lovely,and yet being strong like fate .

For when the sun sprang on the sudden se aTheir eyes sprang eastward

,and the day to be

Was lit in them untimely such delightThey took yet of the clear cold breath and lightThat goes before the morning, and such graceWas deathless in them through their whole life’sspace

As dies in many with their dawn that diesAnd leaves in pulseless hearts and flam e le ss eyesNo light to lighten and no tear to weepFor youth ’s high J oy that time has cast on sleep .

Yea,this old grace and height of J oy they had,

To lose no j ot of al l that made them gladAnd fi lled their springs of spirit with such fireThat all delight fed in them all desireAnd no whit less than in their first keen primeThe spring’s breath blew through all their summertime ,

And in their skies would sunlike Love confuseClear April colours with hot August hues

,

And in their hearts one light of sun and moonReigned , and the morning died not of the noonSuch might of life was in them ,

and so highTheir heart of love rose higher than fate could fly.

And many a large delight of haw k and houndThe great glad land that knows no bourne or bound

,

Save the wind ’s ow n and the outer se a-bank’s,gave

Their days for comfort many a long blithe waveBuoyed their blithe bark between the bare baldrocks ,

Deep , steep , and still, save for the swift free flocks

JOYOUS GARD 95

Unshepherded , uncompassed , unconfined ,That when b lown foam keeps all the loud air b l indMix with the wind ’s their triumph , and partakeThe joy of blasts that ravin , waves that break ,All round and all below their mustering wings ,A c langing cloud that round the cliff’s edge clingsOn each bleak bluff breaking the strenuous tidesThat rings reverberate mirth when storm bestridesThe subj ect night in thunder many a noonThey took the moorland ’s or the bright sea’s boonWith al l their hearts into their spirit of sense ,Rejoicing, where the sudden dells grew denseWith sharp thick flight of b illsi e birds , or w hereOn some strait rock’s ledge in the intense mute airErect against the cliff’s sheer sunlit whiteBlue as the clear north heaven, clothed warm withlight,

Stood neck to bended neck and wing to wingWith heads fast hidden under, close as clingFlow ers on one flowering almond-branch in spring

,

Three herons deep asleep against the sun ,

Each with one bright foot downward poised,and

oneWing-hidden hard by the bright head

,and all

Still as fair shapes fixed on some w ondrous wallOf minster-aisle or Cloister-close or hallTo take even time ’s eye prisoner w ith del ight .Or, satisfied with joy of sound and sight,They sat and communed of things past what stateKing Arthur, yet unwarred upon by fate ,Held high in hall at Came lot, l ike oneWhose lordly life w as as the m ounting sun

That climbs and pauses on the point of noon ,Sovereign how royal rang the tourney

’

s tune

96 JOYOUS GARD

Through Tristram’s three days ’ triumph , spear tospear,

When Iseult shone enthroned by Guenevere,

Rose against rose , the highest adored on earth ,Imperial yet with subtle no tes of mirthWould she bemock her praises , and bemoanHer glory by that splendour overthrow nWhich lightened from her sister’s eyes elateSaying how by night a little light seems great

,

But less than least of all things , very nought,When dawn undoes the w e b that darkness wroughtHow like a tower of ivory well designedBy subtlest hand subserving subtlest mind,Ivory with flower of rose incarnadinedAnd kindl ing with some God therein revealed

,

A light for grief to look on and be healed,

Stood Guenevere and all beholding herWere heart st ruck even as earth at midsummerWith burning wonder, hardly to be borne .So was’ that amorous glorious lady born

,

A fiery memory for all storied yearsNor might men call her s isters crowned her peers ,Her sister queens , put all by her to scornShe had such eyes as are not made to mournBut in her ow n a gleaming ghost of tearsShone

,and thei r glance was slower than Gue nevere ’s ,

And fitfulle r with fancies grown of griefShamed as a Mayflower shames an autumn leafFull well she wist it could not choose but beIf in that other’s eyeshot standing she

Should lift her looks up ever : wherewithalLike fires whose light fil ls heaven with festivalFlamed her eyes full on Tristram ’s and he laughedAnsw ering, What wile of sweet child-hearted craft


98 JOYOUS GARD

Her lover,not as one alive or dead

The great good w izard , well beloved and wel lPredestinate of heaven that casts out hellFor guerdon gentler far than all men’s fate ,Exempt alone of all predestinate ,Take s his strange rest at heart of slumberland ,More deep asleep in green B roce liandeThan shipwrecked sleepers in the soft green se aBeneath the weight of wandering waves but heHath for those roofing waters overheadAbove him alw ays all the summ er spreadOr all the winter wailing or the sweetLate leaves marked red with autumn’s burningfeet ,

Or withered with his weeping, round the seerRain

,and he sees not , nor may heed or hear

The w itness of the winter but in springHe hears above him all the winds on wingThrough the blue dawn between the brighteningboughs ,

And on shut eyes and slumber-smitten browsFeels am bient change in the air and strengtheningsun ,

And knows the soul that was his soul at oneWith the ardent world ’s , a nd in the spirit of earthHis spirit of life reborn to mightier birthAnd mixed with things of elder l ife than oursWith cries of birds , and kindling lamps of flowers ,And sw eep and song of winds , and fruitful l ightOf sunbeams , and the far faint breath of night ,And waves and woods at morning and in all

,

Soft as at noon the slow sea’s rise and fall,

He hears in spirit a song that none but heHears from the mystic mouth of Nim ue

JOYOUS GARD 99

Shed like a consecration and his heart,Hearing, is m ade for love

’s sake as a partOf that far singing, and the life thereofPart of that life that feeds the world w ith loveYea , heart in heart is molten , hers and his,Into the world ’s heart and the soul that isBeyond or sense or vision and their breathStirs the soft springs of deathless life and death

,

Death that bears life, and change that brings forthseed

Of life to death and death to l ife indeed ,As blood recircl ing through the unsounded veinsOf earth and heaven w ith all their joys and pains .Ah , that when love shall laugh no more nor weepWe too , we too might hear that song an d sleepYea,

' said I seult , som e j oy it were to beLost in the sun’s light and the all-girdling sea

,

Mixed with the winds and woodlands , and to bearPart in the large life of the quickening air,And the sw eet earth ’s , our m other yet to passMore fleet than m i rrored faces from

‘

the glassOut of all pain and all delight

,so far

That love should seem but as the furthest starSunk deep in trembling heaven , scarce seen or

know n ,As a dead moon forgotten , once that shoneWhere now the sun shines— nay, not al l things yet,Not all things always

,dying, would I forget .

'

And Tristram answ e red amorously, and saidO heart that here art m ine , O heavenliest headThat ever took men’s worship here , w hich artMine

, how shall death put out t he fire at heart ,Quench in men ’s eyes the head ’s rem embered light,That time shall se t but higher in more men’s sight P

Ioo JOYOUS GARD

Think thou not much to die one earthly day,

Being made not in their mould w ho pass awayNor w ho shall pass for ever. '

Ah , she said ,What shall it profit me , being praised and deadWhat profit have the flow ers of all men ’s praise PWhat pleasure of our pleasure have the daysThat pour on us delight of life and mirthWhat - fruit of all our joy on earth has earthNor am I —nay

,my lover, am I one

To take such part in heaven’s enkindling sun

And in the inviolate air and sacred se aAs clothes with grace that wondrous Nim u e

For all her works are bounties , all her deedsB lessings her days are scrol ls wherein lovereads

The record of his mercies heaven aboveHath not m ore heavenly holiness of loveThan earth beneath , wherever pass or pauseH e r feet that move not save by love ’s own laws,In gentleness of godlike wayfaringTo heal m en’s hearts as earth is healed by springOf all such woes as winter : what am I ,Love

,that have strength but to desire and die

,

That have but grace to love and do thee wrong,

What am I that my name should live so long,Save as the star that crossed thy star-struck lot,With hers whose light w as l ife to LauncelotLife gave she him

,and strength , and fame to be

For ever I,what gift can I give thee P

Peril and sleepless watches,fearful breath

Of dread more bitter for my sake than deathWhen death came nigh to cal l me by my name,Exile , rebuke , remorse , and—O, not shame .


1 02 JOYOUS GARD

For third on earth is none that heaven hath seenTo stand with Guenevere beside my queen .

Not Nim ue , girt with blessing as a guardNot the soft lures and laughters of Et tardeNot she , that splendour girdled round with gloom ,

Crowned as with iron darkness of the tomb,

And clothed with clouding conscience of a monstrous'

doom ,

Whose blind incestuous love brought forth a fireTo burn her ere it burn its darkling sire

,

Her mother’s son , King Arthur yet but lateWe saw pass by that fair l ive shadow of fate ,The queen Morgause of Orkney, l ike a dreamThat scares the night when moon and starry beamSicken and swoon before some sorcerer’s eyesWhose wordless charms defile the saintly skies ,Bright stil l with fire and pulse of blood and breath,Whom her own sons have doomed for shame todeath .

'

Death—yea, quoth she , there is not‘

said orheard

So oft aloud on earth so sure a word .

Death , and again death , and for each that saithTen tongues chime answer to the sound of death .

Good end God send us ever— so men pray.

But I—this end God send me , would I say,To die not of divi s ion and a heartRent or with sword of severance cloven apart ,But only when thou diest and only where thou art,O thou my soul and spirit and breath to me ,O light , l ife , love yea, let this only be ,That dying I may praise God w ho gave me thee ,Le t hap what will thereafter. '

So that day

JOYOUS GARD 1 9 3

They communed , even till even was worn away,Nor aught they said seemed strange or sad to say,But sweet as night’s dim dawn to w eariness .Nor loved they l ife or love for death’s sake less ,Nor feared they death for love ’s or l ife’s sake moreAnd on the sounding soft funereal shoreThey

,watching til l the day should w holly die ,

Saw the far se a sweep to the far grey sky,Saw the long sands sweep to the long grey sea .

And night m ade one sweet mist of moor and lea,And only far off shore the foam gave light.And life in them sank silent as the nigh t .

THE WIFE ’S VIG IL

BUT al l that year in Brittany forlorn ,More sick at heart with wrath than fear of scornAnd less in love with love than grief, and lessWith grief than pride of spirit and bitterness

,

Till all the sweet l ife of her blood was changedAnd all her soul from all her past estrangedAnd all her will with all itself at strifeAnd all her mind at war with all her life

,

Dwelt the white-handed Iseult, maid and wife,A mourner that for mourning robes had onAnger and doubt and hate of things foregone .For that sweet spirit of old which made her sweetWas parched with blasts of thought as flowers withheat

And withered as with wind of evil wil lThough s lower than frosts or fires consume or kil lThat bleak b lack wind vexed al l her spirit stil l .As ripples reddening in the roughening breathOf the eager eas t when dawn does night to death,So rose and stirred and kindled in her thoughtFierce barren fluctuant fires that lit not aught,But scorched her soul with yearning keen as hateAnd dreams that left her w rath disconsolate .


1 06 THE WIFE ’S . VIG I L

Saw lonel ier by the narrower Opening sea

Sit fixed at watch Iseult of Brittany.

As darkness from deep valleys void and bleakClim bs t i ll it clothe with night the sunniest peakWhere only of all a mystic mountain-landDay seems to cling yet with a trembling handAnd yielding heart reluctant to recede

,

So , til l her soul was clothed with night indeed ,Rose the slow cloud of envious will withinAnd hardening hate that he ld itself no sin ,Veiled heads of vision , eyes of evi l gleam ,

Dim thought on thought , and darkling dream ondream .

Far offshe saw i n spirit, and seeing abhorred ,The likeness wrought on darkness of her lordShine , and the imperial semb lance at his sideWhose shadow from her seat cast down the bride ,Whose pow er and ghostly presence thrust her forthBeside that unknown other sea far northShe saw them, clearer than in present sightRose on her eyes the starry shadow of nightAnd on her heart that heaved with gathering fateRose red with storm the starless shadow of hateAnd eyes and heart made one saw surge and swellThe fires of sunset like the fires of hell .As though God’s wrath would burn up sin with shame ,The incensed red gold of deepening heaven grew

flameThe sweet green spaces of the soft low sky

Faded,as fields that withering wind leaves dry

The sea’s was like a doomsman’s blasting breathFrom lips afoam with ravenous lust of death .

A night like desolation , sombre-starred ,Above the great walled girth of Joyous Gard

THE WIFE ’S VIGIL 1 07

Spread forth its wide sad strength of shadow andgloom

Wherein those twain were compassed round withdoom

Hell from beneath called on them , and she heardReverberate judgment in the wild wind ’s wordCry

,til l the sole sound of their names that rang

Clove all the sea-mist with a clarion’s clang,And clouds to clouds and flames to clustering flames

Beat back the dark noise ofthe direful names .Fear and strong exultation caught her breath,And triumph like the bitterness of death,And rapture like the rage of hate allayedWith ruin and ravin that it s might hath madeAnd her heart sw elled and strained itself to hearWhat may be heard of no man’s hungering ear,And as a soi l that cleaves in twain for drouthThirsted for judgment given of God ’s ow n mouthAgainst them , til l the strength of dark desireWas in her as a

'

flam e of hell ’s own fire .Nor seemed the wrath which held her spirit in stressAught else or worse than passionate holiness ,Nor the ard 'ent hate which called on judgm ent’s rodMore hateful than the righteousness of God .

How long, ti ll thou do justice , and my wrongStand expiate P O long-suffering judge

,how long P

Shalt thou not put him in mine hand one dayWhom I so loved , to spare not but to slay PShalt thou not cast her down for me to tread

,

Me , on the pale pride of her humbled head PDo I not well , being angry ' doth not hellRequire them P yea, thou knowest that I do well .I s not thyseal there se t of bloodred lightFor witness on the brows of day and night P

1 08 THE WIFE ’S VIGIL

W ho shal l unseal it P what shall melt awayThy signet from the doors of night and day PNo man , nor strength of any spirit above ,Nor prayer, nor ardours of adulterous love .Thou art God , the strong lord over body and soulHast thou not in the terrors of thy scrol lAll names of all men written as with fire PThine only breath bids t ime and space respireAnd are not all things evil in them doneMore clear in thine eyes than in ours the sun PHast thou not sight stretched wide enough to se eThese that offend it, these at once and me PI s thine arm shortened or thine hand struck down

As palsied P have thy brows not strength to frown P

Are thine eyes blind with fi lm of withering age PBurns not thine heart with righteousness of rageYet , and the royal rancour toward thy foesRetributive of ruin P Time should close

,

Thou said’st, and earth fade as a leaf grows grey,Ere one word said of thine should pass away.

Was this then not thy word,thou God most high ,

That sin shall surely bring forth death and die ,Seeing how these twain live and have joy of life ,His harlot and the man that made me wife PFor is it I , perchance , I that have sinned PMe , peradventure , should thy w asting windSmite , and thy sun blast , and thy storms devourMe with keen fangs of lightning P should thy powerPu t forth on me the weight of its awakening hour PShall I that bear this burden bear that weightOf judgment P is my sin against thee great ,I f all my heart against them burn with all its hate PThine , and not m ine , should hate be P nay, but meThey have spoiled and scoffed at, who can touch notthee .


1 1 0 THE WIFE ’S VIGIL

Nought, is it nought , O husband , O my knight,0 strong man and indomitab le in fight

,

That one more weak than foam-bells on the se aShould have in heart such thoughts as I of thee PThou art bound about with stately strengths forbands

What strength shal l keep thee from my strengthlesshands '

Thou art girt about with goodly guards and greatWhat fosse may fence thee round as deep as hate PThou art wise will wisdom teach thee fear of meThou a t great of heart shal l this deliver thee PWhat wall so massive , or what tower so high ,Shall be thy surety that thou shouldst not die ,I f that which comes against thee be but I 'Who shall rise up of power to take thy part ,What skill find strength to save, what strength findart,

If that which wars against thee be my heart PNot iron , nor the might of force afield ,Nor edge of sw ord , nor sheltering weight of shield ,Nor all thy fame since all thy praise began ,Nor all the love and laud thou hast of man ,Nor

,though his noiseless hours with wool be shod ,

Shall God ’s love keep thee . from the wrath of God .

O son of sorrows , hast thou said at heart,Haply

,God loves thee , God shal l take thy part,

Who hath all these years endured thee , since thybirth

From sorrow’s womb bade sin be born on earth PSo long he hath cast his buckler over thee ,Shall he not surely guard thee even from me PYea

,but if yet he give thee while I l ive

Into mine hands as he shal l surely give ,

THE WIFE ’S VIG I L 1 1 1

Ere death at last bring darkness on thy face ,Call then on him , call not on me for grace ,Cast not away one prayer, one suppliant breath,On me that commune all this w hile with death .

For I that was not and that was thy wifeDesire not but one hour of all thy l ifeWherein to triumph till that hour be pastBut this mine hour I look for is thy last .So mused she til l the fire in sea and skySank, and the northwest wind spake harsh on high ,And like the sea’s heart waxed her heart that heard .

Strong, dark, and bitter, till the keen wind’s word

Seemed of her own soul spoken , and the breathAll round he r not of darkness, but of death .

THE LAST P I LGRIMAGE

ENOUGH of ease , 0 Love, enough ofl ight,Enough of rest before the shadow of night .Strong Love, whom death finds feeb ler kingly Love .

Whom time discrowns in season , seeing thy cloveSpell-stricken by the serpent for thy sakeThese that saw light see night’s dawn only break

,

Night’s cup fi lled up with slumber, whence men thinkThe draught more dread than thine was dire to drink.

0 Love, thy day sets darkling hope and fearFal l from thee standing stern as death stands here .

For what have these to do with fear or hopeOn whom the gates of outer darkness ope ,On whom the door of life ’s desire is barred PPast like a cloud , their days in Joyous GardGleam l ike a cloud the westering sun stains redTil l all the blood of day’s blithe heart be b ledAnd al l night’s heart requickened in their eyesSo flame and fade those far memorial skies ,So shines the moorland, so revives the sea,Whereon they gazing mused of things to be

And wist not more of them than waters knowWhat wind with next day’s change of tide shal lblow.


. THE LAST P I LGRIMAGE

For Tri stram parting from her wist at heartHow well she wist they might not choose but part ,And he pass forth a pilgrim , when there cameA sound of summons in the high king ’s nameFor succour toward his vassal Triam ou r

,

King in wild Wales , now spoiled of all his power,As Tristram ’s father ere his fair son’s birth

,

By one the strongest of the sons of earth,

Urgan,an iron bulk of giant mould

And Iseult in Tintagel as of oldSat crowned with state and sorrow for her lordAt Arthur’s hand required her back restored

,

And willingly compelled against her willShe yielded

,saying within her own sou l still

Some season yet of soft or stormier breathShould haply give her life again or deathFor now nor quick nor dead nor bright nor darkWere all her nights and days wherein King MarkHeld haggard w atch upon her, and his eyesWere cloudier than the gradual w intering skiesThat closed about the w an wild land and sea .

And bitter toward him waxed her heart but heWas rent in twain betwixt harsh love and hateWith pain and passion half compassionateThat yearned and laboured to be quit of shame

,

And could not and his life grew sm ouldering flame .And hers a cloud full-charged with storm andshower,

Though touched with trembling gleams of fire ’s brightflow er

That flashed and faded on its fitful verge ,As hope would strive with darkness and emergeAnd sink , a swimmer strangled by the swallowing

surge .

THE LAST PI LGRIMAGE 1 1 5

But Tristram by dense hills and deepening valesRode through the wild glad wastes of gloriousWales ,

High-hearted with desire of happy fightAnd strong in soul w ith merrier sense of mightThan since the fair first years that hailed himknight

For all his will was toward the w ar, so longHad love repressed and wrought his glory wrong,So far the triumph and so fair the praiseSeem ed now that kindled all his April days .And here in bright blown autumn

,while his life

Was summer’s yet for strength toward love or strife ,Blithe waxed his hope toward battle

,and high desire

To pluck once more as out of circling fireFame , the broad flower whose breath makes deathmore sweet

Than roses crushed by love ’s receding feet .But all the lovely land wherein he wentThe blast of ruin and ravenous w ar had rentAnd black with fire the fields where homesteads w ere,And foul w ith festering dead the high soft air,And loud with wail of women m any a streamWhose own live song w as l ike love’s deepeningdream ,

Spake all against the spoiler wherefore stillWrath waxed with pity, quickening all his will,In Tristram’s heart for every league he rodeThrough the aching land so broad a curse bestrodeWith so supreme a shadow till one dawnAbove the green bloom of a gleam ing lawn

,

High on the strait steep windy bridge that spannedAglen’s deep mouth , he saw that shadow standV isible , sword on thigh and mace in hand

1 1 6 THE LAST PI LGRIMAGE

Vast as the mid bulk of a roof-tree ’s beam .

So , sheer above the wild wolf-haunted stream ,

Dire as the face disfeatured of a dream,

Rose Urgan and his eyes were night and flameBut like the fiery dawn were his that cameAgainst him , l it with more sublime desireThan lifts toward heaven the leaping heart of fireAnd strong in vantage of his perilous placeThe huge high presence, red as earth

’s first race ,Reared l ike a reed the might up of his mace ,And smote but l ightly Tristram swerved , anddrove

Right in on him , whose void stroke only cloveAir, and fell wide , thundering athwart and heSent forth a stormier cry than wind or sea

When midnight takes the tempest for her lord 'And all the glen ’s throat seemed as he l l ’s thatroared

But high l ike heaven’s light over hell shoneTristram ’s sword

,

Fall ing, and bright as storm shows God’s bare

brandFlashed as it shore sheer offthe huge right handWhose strength w as as the shadow of death on allthat land .

And like the trunk of some grim tree sawn throughReeled Urgan

,as his left hand grasped and drew

A steel by sorcerers tempered and anewRaged the red wind of fluctuant fight , til l allThe cliffs were thril led as by the clangorous callOf storm ’s blown trumpets from the core of night ,Charging and even as with the storm-Wind ’s mightOn Tristram ’s helm that sword crashed and theknight


1 1 8 THE LAST PI LGRIMAGE

And southward se t his sail again , and passedThe lone land ’s ending, first beheld and lastOf eyes that look on England from the se aAnd his heart mourned within him, knowing how

she

Whose heart with his was fatefully made fastSat now fast bound , as though some charm werecast

About her,such a briefspace eastward thence ,

And yet might soul not break the bonds of senseAnd bring her to him in very life and breathMore than had this been even the sea of deathThat washed between them , and its wide sweet

l ightThe dim strait’s darkness of the narrowing nightThat shuts about m e n dying whose souls put forthTo pierce its passage throngh : but south and northAlike for him were other than they wereFor all the northward coast shone smooth and fair,And off its iron cliffs the keen-edged airBlew summer, kindling from her mute bright mouth 'But winter breathed out of the murmuring south ,Where , pale with wrathful watch on passing ships ,The lone wife lay in wait with wan dumb lips .Yet, sailing where the shoreward ripple curledOf the most wild sweet waves in all the world,His soul took comfort even for joy to se eThe st rong .de ep joy of living sun and sea,The large deep love of living sea and land

,

As past the lonely lion-guarded strandWhere that huge warder lifts his couchant sides ,As leep , above the sleepless lapse of tides ,The ligh t sail swept, and past the unsounded cave sUnsearchable , wherein the pulse of waves

THE LAST P I LGRIMAGE 1 1 9

Throbs through pe rpetual darkness to and fro ,And the blind night swims heavily belowWhile heavily the strong noon broods above ,Even to the very bay whence very Love ,Strong daughter of the giant gods w ho wroughtSun , earth , and sea out of their procreant thought,Most meetly might have risen , and most divineBeheld and heard things round her sound and shineFrom floors of foam and gold to walls of serpentine .For splendid as the limbs of that supremeIncarnate beauty through men ’s visions gleam ,

Whereof all fairest things are even but shadow ordream

,

And lovely l ike as Love’s own heavenl iest face ,Gleams there and glows the presence and the grace

Even of the mother of all , in perfect pride of place .For otherwhere beneath our world-wide skyThere may not be beheld of men that dieAught else like this that dies not, nor may s tressOf ages that bow down men ’s works make lessThe exultant aw e that clothes with power its love liness .

For who sets eye thereon soever knowsHow since these rocks and waves first rolled and roseThe marvel of their many-coloured mightHath borne this record sensible to sight ,The witness and the sym bol of their own delight,The gospel graven of life ’s m ost heavenly law,

Joy, brooding on its own still soul w ith awe ,A sense of godlike rest in godl ike strife,The sovereign conscience of the spirit of life .Nor otherwhere on strand or mountain towerHath such fair beauty shining forth in flowerPu t on the imperial robe of such imperious powe r.

1 20 THE LAST PILGRIMAGE

For al l the radiant rocks from depth to heightBurnwith vast bloom of glories blossom-brightAs though the sun’s ow n hand had thrilled themthrough with light

And stained them through with sp lendour yet fromthence

Such awe strikes rapture through the spirit of

senseFrom al l the inaccessible sea-wal l ’s gi rth,That exultation , bright at heart as mirth,Bows deeper down before the beauty of earthThan fear may b ow down ever nor shall oneWho meets at Alpine dawn the mounting sunOn heights too high for many a wing to climbBe touched with sense of aught seen more sub l imeThan here smiles high and sweet in face of heavenand time .

For here the flower of fire, the soft hoar bloomOf springtide olive-woods , the warm green gloomOf clouded seas that swell and sound with dawn ofdoom ,

The keen thwart l ightning and the wan grey lightOf stormy sunrise crossed and vexed with night,Flash

,loom , and laugh with divers hues in one

From al l the curved clifl’ s face , til l day be done ,Against the sea’s face and the gazing sun .

And whensoever a strong wave , high in hope ,Sweeps up some smoo th slant breadth of stoneaslope ,

That glowed with duskier fire of hues less bright,Swift as it sweeps back springs to sudden sightThe splendour of the moist rock ’s fervent light,Fresh as from dew of birth when time w as bornOut ofthe world-conceiving womb of morn.


1 2 2,

THE LAST P I LGRIMAGE

So seemed his own soul , changefully forlorn ,To shrink and triumph and mount up and mournYet all its fi tful waters , clothed with night,Lost heart not wholly, lacked not wholly light ,Seeing over life and death one star in sightWhere evening’s gates as fair as morning’s ope

,

Whose name w as memory, but whose flame was hope .For all the tides of thought that rose and sankFelt its fair strength wherefrom strong sorrow shrankA mightier trust than time could change or cloy

,

More strong than sorrow, more secure than joy.

So came he,nor content nor all unblest,

Back to the grey old land of Merlin’s rest .But ere six paces forth on shore he trodBefore him stood a knight with feet unshod,And kneeling called upon him

,as on God

Might sick m en call for pity, praying aloudWith hands held up and head made bare and bowedTristram , for God

’s love and thine ow n dear fame,I Tristram that am one with thee in nameAnd one in heart with all that praise thee—I,Most woful man of all that m ay not dieFor heartbreak and the heavier scourge of shame,By all thy glory done our woful nameBeseech thee , called of all men gentlest knight,Be now not slow to do my sorrow s right .I charge thee for thy fame ’s sake through this land ,I pray thee by thine own wife ’s fair white hand ,Have pity of me whose love is borne awayBy one that makes of poor men ’s lives his prey,A felon masked with knighthood at his sideSeven brethren hath he night or day to rideWith seven knights more that wait on all his willAnd here at hand

,ere yet one day fulfi l

TH E LAST PILGRIMAGE 1 23

Its flight through light and darkness , shall they fareForth

,and my bride among them , whom they bear

Through these wild lands his prisoner and if nowI lose her

,and my prayer be vain

,and thou

Less fain to serve love’s servants than of yore,Then surely shall I see her face no more .Bu t if thou wilt, for love

’s sake of the brideWho lay most loved of wom en at thy side ,Strike with me

,straight then hence behoves us ride

And rest between the moorside and the se aW here we may smite them passing : but for m e ,

Poor stranger,m e not worthy scarce to touchThy kind strong hand

,how shouldst thou do so much P

For now lone left this long tim e waits thy wifeAnd lacks her lord and l ight of wedded lifeWhilst thou far. offart famous yet thy fame,If thou take pity on me that bear thy nameUnworthily, but by that name imploreThy grace , how shall not even thy fam e grow more PBut be thy will as God ’s among us done

,

Who art far in fame above us as the sunYet only of him have all m en help and grace .And all the lordly light of Tristram ’s faceWas softened as the sun’s in kindly spring.

Nay, then may God send me as evil a thingWhen I give ear not to such prayers , he said,And make my place among the nameless deadWhen I put back one hour the time to smiteAnd do the unrighteous griefs of good men right .

Behold , I will not enter in nor restHere in mine own halls till this piteous questFind end e re noon to-morrow but do thou ,W hose sister’s face I may not look on now ,

Go , G anhardine , with tiding of the vow

1 24 THE LAST P I LGRIMAGE

That bids me turn aside for one day’s strifeOr live dishonoured all my days of life

,

And greet for me in brother’s wise my wife,

And crave her pardon that for knighthood ’s sakeAnd womanhood ’s , whose bands may no man breakAnd keep the bands of bounden honour fast

,

I seek not her till two nights yet be pastAnd this my quest accomplished , so God p leaseBy me to give this young man’s anguish easeAnd on his wrongdoer’s head his wrong requite .And Tristram with that woful thankful knightRode by the seaside moorland wastes awayB etween the quickening night and darkening dayEre half the gathering stars had heart to shine .And lightly toward his sister G anhardineSped , where She sat and gazed alone afarAbove the grey se a for the sunset star,And lightly kissed her hand and lightly spakeHis tiding of that quest for knighthood ’s sake .And the white-handed Iseult

,bowing her head ,

Gleamed on him with a glance athwart, and said ,As God’s on earth and far above the sun ,

So toward his handmaid be my lord ’s will done .And doubts too dim to question or divineTouched as with shade the spirit of G anhardine ,Hearing and scarce for half a doubtful breathHis bright light heart held half a thought ofdeathAnd knew not whence this darkling thought might be,But surely not his sister’s work : for sheWas ever sweet and good as summer air,And soft as dew when all the night is fair,And gracious as the golden maiden moonWhen darkness craves her blessing : so full soon


1 26 THE LAST PI LGRIMAGE

And all the bright blood in his veins beat tim'To the wind ’s clarion and the water’s chimeThat called him and he followed it and stoodOn the sand’s verge before the grey great floodWhere the white hurtling heads of waves that metRose unsaluted of the sunrise yet .And from his heart’s root outward shot the sweetStrong joy that thrilled him to the hands and feet,Filling his l imbs with pleasure and glad might,And his soul drank the immeasurable delightThat earth drinks in with morning

,and the free

Limitless love that l ifts the stirring seaWhen on her bare bright bosom as a brideShe takes the young sun , perfect in his pride ,Home to his place w ith passion : and the heartTrembled for joy within the man whose partWas here not least in living and his m indWas rapt abroad beyond m an’s meaner kindAnd pierced with love of all things and with mirthMoved to make one with heaven and heavenlike earthAnd with the light live water. So awhileHe watched the dim sea with a deepening smile ,And felt the sound and savour and swift fl ightOf w aves that fled beneath the fading nightAnd died before the darkness , l ike a songWith harps between and trumpets blown alongThrough the loud ai r of some triumphant day,Sink through his spirit and purge all sense awaySave of the glorious gladness of his hourAnd all the world about to break in flowerBefore the sovereign laughter of the sunAnd he

,ere night’s wide work lay all undone ,

As earth from her bright body casts offnight,Cast off his raiment for a rapturous fight

THE LAST P ILGRIMAGE 1 27

And stood between the sea’s edge and the seaNaked , and godlike of his mould as heWhose sw ift foot’s sound shook all the towers of

TroySo clothed with might, so girt upon with joyAs

,ere the knife had shorn to feed the fire

His glorious hair before the unkindled pyreWhereon the half of his great heart was laid,Stood , in the light of his live limbs arrayed,Child of heroic earth and heavenly sea ,The flower of all men scarce less bright than he,I f any of al l men latter-born might stand ,Stood Tristram , silent, on the gl immering strand .

Not long but with a cry of love that rangAs from a trumpet golden-mouthed , he sprang,As toward a mother’s where his head might restHer child rejoicing, toward the strong sea

’s breastThat none may gird nor measure and his heartSent forth a shout that bade his l ips not part,But triumphed in him silent no man’s voice ,No song, no sound of clarions that rejoice ,Can se t that glory forth which fi l ls w ith fireThe body and soul that have their whole desireS ilent, and freer than birds or dreams are freeTake all their will of all the encountering sea .

And toward the foam he bent and forward smote,

Laughing, and launched his body like a boatFull to the sea-breach, and against the tideStruck strongly forth with amorous arms made

w ideTo take the bright breast of the wave to hisAnd on his lips the sharp sweet minute ’s kissGiven of the wave ’s lip for a breath’s space curledAnd pure as at the daydawn of the world .

1 28 THE LAST P ILGRIMAGE

And round him.

al l the bright rough shuddering seaKindled , as though the world were even as he ,Heart-stung with exultation of desireAnd all the life that moved him seemed to aspire

,

As all the sea’s life toward the sun and stillDelight within him waxed with quickening willMore smooth and strong and perfect as a flameThat Springs and spreads , till each glad limb becameA note of rapture in the tune of life ,Live music mild and keen as sleep and strifeTill the sweet change that bids the sense grow sureOf deeper depth and purity more pureWrapped him and lapped him round with clearer co ld,And all the rippling green grew royal goldBetween him and the far sun’s rising rim .

And like the sun his heart rejoiced in him,

And br ightened with a broadening flame ofmirthAnd hardly seemed its l ife a part of earth,But the l ife kindled of a fiery birthAnd passion of a new-begotten sonBetween the live se a and the living sun .

And mightier grew the joy to meet ful l-facedEach wave , and mount with upward plunge , and tasteThe rapture of its rolling strength , and crossIts fl ickering crown of snows that flash and tossLike plumes in battle’s blithest charge , and thenceTo match the next with yet more strenuous senseTill on his eyes the l ight beat hard and badeHis face turn west and shoreward through the gladSwift revel of the waters golden-clad ,And back with light reluctant heart he boreAcross the broad-backed rollers in to ShoreStrong-spirited for the chance and cheer of fight,And donned his arms again , and fe lt the might



Or ever give man comfort of his hand .

Beside a wood ’s edge in the broken landAn hour at wait the twain together stood

,

Till swift between the moorside and the woodFlashed the spears forward of the coming trainAnd seeing beside the strong chief spoiler’s reinHis wan love riding prisoner in the crew

,

Forth with a cry the young man leapt , and flewRight on that felon sudden as a flameAnd hard at hand the mightier Tristram came

,

Bright as the sun and terrible as fireAnd there had sword and spear their soul ’s desire

,

And blood that quenched the spear’s thirst as it pouredSlaked royally the hunger of the sword

,

Till the fierce heart of steel could scarce fulfilI ts greed and ravin of insatiate will .For three the fiery spear of Tristram droveDown ere a point of theirs his hafne ss cloveOr its own sheer mid shaft splintered in twainAnd his heart bounded in him , and was fainAs fire or wind that takes its fi l l by nightOf tempest and of triumph so the knightRejoiced and ranged among them , great of hand,Til l seven lay slain upon the heathery sandOr in the dense breadth of the woodside fern .

Nor did his heart not mightier in him burnSeeing at his hand that young knight fallen , and highThe

'

red sword reared again that bade him die .B ut on the S layer exulting l ike the flameWhose foot fore shine s the thunder Tristram cameRaging

,for piteous wrath had made him fire

And as a lion’s look his face was direThat flashed against his foeman ere the swordLightened and wrought the heart’s will of its lord,

THE LAST P I LGRIMAGE 1 3 1

And clove through casque and crown the wrongdoer’shead .

And right and left about their dark chief deadHurtled and hurled those felons to and fro,Till as a storm-wind scatters leaves and snowHis right hand ravening scattered them but oneThat fled with sidelong glance athwart the sunShot , and the shaft flew sure , and smote aright,Full in the w ound ’s print of his great first fightWhen at his young strength ’s peri l he made freeCornwall, and slew beside its bordering seaThe fair land’s foe

, w ho yielding up his breathYet left him wounded nigh to dark slow death .

And hardly with long toil thence he won homeBetween the grey moor and the glimmering foam ,

And halting fared through his own gate , and fell ,Thirsting for as the sleepless fire of hellThe fire within him of his wound againBurned , and his face was dark as death for pain,And blind the blithe light of his eyes but theyWithin that watched and wist not of the frayCame forth and cried aloud on him for woe .And scarce aloud his thanks fell faint and slowAs men reared up the strong man fallen and boreDown the deep hall that looked along the shore

,

And laid him soft abed , and sought in vainIf herb or hand of leech might heal his pain .

And the white-handed Iseult hearkening heardAll, and drew nigh , and spake no wifely word,But gazed upon him doubtfully, with eyesClouded and he in kindly knightly wiseSpake with scant breath , and smiling Surely thisI s penance for discourt eous lips to kiss


And feel the brand burn through them , here to lieAnd lack the strength here to do more than S ighAnd hope not hence for pardon .

' Then she bowedHer head , still silent as a stooping cloud ,And laid her lips against his face and heFelt S ink a shadow across him as the se aMight feel a cloud stoop toward it and his heartDarkened as one that wastes by sorcerous artAnd know s not whence it withers and he turnedBack from her emerald eyes his ow n

,and yearned

All night for eyes all golden and the darkHung sleep less round him till the loud first larkRang record forth once more of darkness done,And al l things born took comfort from the sun.


1 34 THE SAILING OF THE SWAN

And moved of no man’s prayer to fold its wingsFate, that is night and light on worldly thingsFate , that i s fire to burn and sea to drown ,Strength to build up and thunder to cast downFate, shield and screen for each man

’s l ifelong head,And sword at last‘or dart that strikes it deadFate , higher than heaven and deeper than the grave ,That saves and spares not, spares and doth not saveFate , that in gods

’ wise is not bought and soldFor prayer or price of penitence or goldWhose law Shall l ive when life bids earth farewell,Whose justice hath for shadows heaven and hell 2°

Whose judgment into no god ’s hand is given ,Nor is its doom not more than hel l or heavenFate , that is pure of love and clean of hate ,Being equal-eyed as nought may be but fateThrough many and weary days of foiled desireLeads , l ife to rest where tears no more take fireThrough many and weary dreams of quenched del ightLeads life through death past sense of day and night.Nor shall they feel or fear, whose date is done,Aught that made once more dark the living sun

And bitterer in their breathing lips the breathThan the dark dawn and bitter dust of death .

For all the light, with fragrance as of flowers ,That clothes the lithe live limbs of separate hours ,More sweet to savour and more clear to S ightDawns on the soul death’s undivided night .No vigils has that perfect night to keep

,

No fever-fit s of vision shake that sleep .

Nor if they wake , and any place there beWherein the soul may feel her wings beat freeThrough air too clear and sti ll for sound or strifeIfl ife were hap ly death, and death be life

THE SAILING OF THE SWAN 1 35

If love with yet some lovel ier laugh revive,And song relume the light it bore alive ,And friendship , found of al l earth

’s gifts most good,

Stand perfect in perpetual brotherhoodIf aught indeed at all of all this be ,Though none might say nor any man might see,Might he that sees the shade thereof not sayThisdream were trustier than the truth of day.

Nor haply may not hope , with heart more clear,Burn deathward , and the doubtful soul take cheer,Seeing through the channelled darkness yearn astar

Whose eyebeams are not as the morning’s are,

Transient,and subjug‘ate of lordlier l ight

,

But all unconquerable by noon or night,Being kindled only of life ’s ow n inmost fire

,

Truth,stablished and made sure by strong desire .

Fountain of all things living, source and seed,Force that perforce t ransfigure s dream to deed.

God that begets on time , the body of death,Eternity nor may man’s darkening breath

,

Albeit it stain , disfigure or destroyThe glass wherein the soul sees life and joyOnly, with strength renewed and spirit of youth,And brighter than the sun’s the body of TruthEternal, unimaginable of man ,Whose very face not Thought’s own eyes may scan

,

But se e far off his radiant feet at least,Trampling the head of Fear, the false high priest,Whose broken chalice foams with blood no more

,

And prostrate on that high priest’s chancel floor,

Bruised , overthrown , bl ind, maimed, with bloodlessrod ,

The miscreation of his m iscreant G od.


That sovereign shadow cast of souls that dwellIn darkness and the prison-house of hellWhose walls are built of deadly dread , and boundThe gates thereof with dreams as iron round

,

And all the bars therein and stanchions w roughtOf Shadow forged like steel and tem pered thoughtAnd w ords like swords and thunder-clouded creedsAnd faiths more dire than sin’s most direful deedsThat Shade accursed and worshipped , which hathmade

The soul of man that brought it forth a shadeBlack as the womb of darkness , void and vain,A throne for fear

,a pasturage for pain,

Impotent,abject

,clothed upon with lies ,

A foul blind fume of words and prayers that rise ,Aghast and harsh

,abhorrent and abhorred

,

Fierce as its God , blood-saturate as its LordWith loves and m ercies on it s l ips that hissComfort , and kil l compassion with a kiss ,And strike the world black w ith their blasting breathThat ghost w hose core of life is very deathAnd all it s l ight of heaven a shadow of hell ,Fades , falls , wanes , withers by none other spellBut theirs whose eyes and ears have seen and heardNot the face naked , not the perfect word ,But the bright sound and feature felt from farOf life which feeds the Spirit and the star,Thrills the l ive light of all the suns that rol l,And stirs the still sealed spr1 ngs of every soul .Three dim days through , three slumberless nightslong,

Perplexed at dawn , oppressed at evensong,The strong man’s soul now sealed indeed w ith pain

,

And all its springs half dried with drought, had lain



Where surelie st only of one it may be seen ,And bid her handmaid bear it to the queenFor earnest of thine homage then shall sheFear

,and take counsel privily with thee

,

To know what errand there is thine from meAnd what my need in secret of her sight .But make thee two sails , one l ike se a-foam whiteTo spread for signal if thou bring her back,And if she come not se e the sail be b lack,That I may know or ever thou take landI f these my lips may die upon her handOr hers may never more be mixed with mine .And his heart quailed for grief in G anhardine ,Hearing and all his brother bade he sworeSurely to do , and straight fare forth from shore .But the white-handed Iseult hearkening heardAll , and her heart waxed hot, and every wordThereon seemed graven and printed in her thoughtAS l ines with fire and molten iron wrought .And hard within her heavy heart she cursedBoth , and her life was turned to fiery thirst

,

And all her soul was hunger, and its breathOf hope and l ife a b last of raging death .

For only in hope of evil was her life .So bitter burned within the unchilded wifeA virgin lust for vengeance , and such hateWrought in her now the fervent work of fate .Then with a south -west wind the Swan se t forth,And over wintering waters bore to north ,And round the wild land ’s windy westward endUp the blown channel bade her bright way bendEast on toward high Tintagel where at darkLanding, fair we lcome found they of King Mark,


And G anhardine with B rangw ain as of oldSpake

,and she took the cup of chiselled gold

Wherein lay secret Tristram’s trothplight ring,And bare it unbeholden of the kingEven to her lady’s hand

,w hich hardly took

A gift whereon a queen’s eyes well might look,With grace forlorn of weary gentleness .But, s eeing, her life leapt in her, keen to guessThe secret of the symbol and her faceFlashed bright with blood whence all its grief-worngrace

Took fire and kindled to the quivering hair.And in the dark soft hour of starriest airThrilled through with sense of midnight, when theworld

Feels the wide wings of sleep about it furled ,Down stole the queen

,deep-m uflled to her w ar

Mute restless l ips,and came where yet the Swan

Swung fast at anchor whence by starl ight sheHoised snow b right sails, and took the glimmering

sea .

But al l the long night long more keen and soreHis wound ’s grief waxed in Tristram evermore,And heavier always hung his heart aswayBetween dim fear and clouded hope of day .

And still with face and heart at silent strifeBeside him watched the maiden called his wife,Patient, and spake not save when scarce he spake,Murmuringwith sense distraught and Spirit awakeSpeech bitterer than the words thereof were sweet :And hatred thrilled her to the hands and feet,Listening for alway back reiterate cameThe passionate faint burden of her name .


Nor ever through the labouring lips astirCame any word of any thought of her.But the soul wandering struggled and c lung hardOnly to dreams of joy in Joyous GardOr wildwood nights beside the Cornish strand

,

Or Merlin ’s holier s leep here hard at handWrapped round with deep soft spells in dim Broce

Hande .And with such thirst as joy’s drained wine-cup leavesWhen fear to hope as hope to memory cleavesH is soul desired the dewy sense of leaves

,

The soft green smell of thickets drenched with dawn .

The faint Slot kindling on the fiery lawnAs day’s first hour made keen the spirit againThat lured and spurred on quest his hound Hodain ,

The breeze , the bloom , the sp lendour and the sound ,That stung like fire the hunter and the hound,The pulse of wind , the passion of the sea,The rapture of the woodland then would heSigh , and as one that fain would al l be deadHeavi ly turn his heavy-laden headBack, and close eyes for comfort, finding none .And fain he would have died or seen the sun ,

Being sick at heart of darkness yet afreshBegan the long strong strife of spirit and fleshAnd branching pangs of thought whose branches bearThe bloodred fruit whose core is black , despair .And the wind slackene d and again grew great,Palpitant as men’s pulses palpitateBetween the flowing and ebbing tides of fateThat wash their l ifelong waifs of weal and woeThrough night and light and twilight to and froNow as a pulse of hope its heartbeat throbbed,Now like one stricken shrank and sank and sobbed,



Not rest but unrest hath our long love givenUnrest on earth that wins not rest in heaven .

What rest may w e take ever P what have weHad ever more of peace than has the sea PHas not our life been as a wind that blowsThrough lonelier lands than rear the wild white roseThat each year sees requickened , but for usTime once and twice hath here or there done thusAnd left the next year fol lowing empty and bare PWhat rose hath our last year’s rose left for hei r

,

What wine our last year’s vintage P and to meMore were one fleet forbidden sense of thee ,One perfume of thy present grace , one thoughtMade truth one hour, ere all mine hours be nought,One very word , breath , look , S ign , touch of hand,Than all the green leaves in B roce liandeFull of sweet sound, full of sweet wind and sunO God , thou knowest I would no more but one ,I would no more but once more ere I dieFind thus much mercy. Nay, but then were IHappier than he whom there thy grace hath found,For thine it must be

,this that wraps him round ,

Thine only,albeit a fiend’s force gave him birth,

Thine that has given him heritage on earthOf slumber-sweet eternity to keepFast in soft hold of everliving sleep .

Happier were I,more sinful man , than he,

Whom one love-worthier then than Nimue

Should with a breath make blest among the dead .

And the wan wedded maiden answering said,Soft as hate speaks within itself apartSurely ye shal l not, ye that rent mine heart,

Being one in sin ,in punishment be twain .

'

And the great knight that heard not spake again


And sighed, but sweet thought of sweet things goneby

Kindled with fire of joy the very sighAnd touched it through with rapture Ay, thiswere

How much more than the sun and sunbright air,How much more than the springtide , how much moreThan sweet strong sea-wind quickening wave andshore

With one divine pulse of continuous breath ,I f she might kiss me with the kiss of death ,And make the light of life bv death’s look dimAnd the white wedded v1 rg1 n answered him ,

I nwardly, wan with hurt no herb makes wholeYea surely, ye whose sin hath s lain my soul,Surely your own souls shall have peace in deathAnd pass with benediction in their breathAnd blessing given of mine their sin hath s lain .

And Tristram with sore yearning spake again ,Saying Yea, might this thing once be, howshould I ,

With all my soul made one thanksgiving, die,And pass before what judgment-seat may be

,

And cry, Lord , now do all thou wilt with me,Take all thy fill of justice , work thy willThough all thy heart of wrath have all its fi ll ,My heart of suffering shall endure , and say,For that thou gayest m e livingyeste rday

I bless thee though thou curse m e .

’ Ay, and wellMight one cast down into the gulf of hell,Remembering this , take heart and thank his fateThat God , whose doom now scourges him with hateOnce

,in the wild and whirling world above,

Bade mercy kiss his dying lips with love .


But if this come not , then he doth me wrong .

For what hath love done , all this long life longThat death should trample down his poor last prayerWho prays not for forgiveness P Though love wereSin dark as hate , have w e not here that sinnedSuffered P has that been less than wintry windWherewith our love lies blasted P O mine own,0 mine and no man’s yet save mine alone ,I seu lt what ails thee that I lack so longAll of thee , all things thine for which I long PFor more than watersprings to shadeless sands

,

More to me were the comfort of her handsTouched once , and more than rays that se t and riseThe gl ittering arrows of her glorious eyes

,

More to my sense than fire to dead cold airThe wind and light and odour of her hair,More to my soul than summer’s to the southThe mute clear music of her amorous mouth

,

And to my heart’s heart more than heaven ’s great restThe fullness of the fragrance of he r breast .I seu lt

,I seult , what grace hath l ife to give

More than w e twain have had of life,and live P

I seult , I seult , what grace may death not keepAs sweet for us to win of death , and sleep PCome therefore , let us twain pass hence and tryIf it be better not to live

'

but die,

With love for lamp to light us out of l ife .And on that word his wedded maiden wife

,

Pale as the moon in star-forsaken skiesEre the sun fil l them , rose with se t strange eyesAnd gazed on him that saw not : and her heartHeaved as a man’s death-smitten with a dartThat smites him sleeping, warm and full of l ifeSo toward her lord that was not looked his wife ,



And his heart sprang, and sank again and sheSpake , saying, What would my knightly lord withme P

And Tristram Hath my lady watched al l nightBeside me , and I knew not P God requiteHer love for comfort Shown a man nigh dead .

Yea, God shall surely guerdon it, She said,

Who hath kept me all my days through to thishour . '

And Tristram God alone hath grace and powerTo pay such grace toward one unworthier shownThan ever durst, save only of God alone ,Crave pardon yet and comfort, as I wouldCrave now for charity if my heart were good

,

But as a coward ’s it fails me , even for shame .Then seemed her face a pale funereal flameThat burns down slow by midnight , as she saidSpeak

,and albeit thy bidding spake me dead,

God ’s love renounce m e if it were not done .

'

And Tristram When the se a-l ine takes the sunThat now should be not far off sight from far,Look if the re come not with the morning starMy ship bound hither from the northward back,And if the sail be white thereof or black .

And knowing the soothfast sense of his desireSo sore the heart withinher raged like fireShe could not wring forth of her lips a w ord ,But bowing made Sign how humbly had She heard .

And the S ign given made light his heart and sheSet her face hard against the yearning seaNow all athirst with trembling trust of hopeTo se e the sudden gates of sunrise opeBut thirstier yearned the heart whose fiery gate

Laywide that vengeance might come in to hate .


And Tristram lay at thankful rest , and thoughtNow surely life nor death could grieve him aught

,

Since past was now life’s anguish as a breath,And surely past the bitterness of death .

For seeing he had found at these her hands this grace ,I t could not be but yet some breathing-spaceMight leave him life to look again on love’s own face .Since if for death’s sake , in his heart he said ,Even she take pity upon me quick or dead ,How shall not even from God ’s hand be compassionshed P

For night bears dawn , how weak soe’

e r and wan,And sweet ere death, men fable , sings the swan .

So seems the Swan my signal from the seaTo sound a song that sweetens death to meC lasped round about with radiance from aboveOf dawn , and closer clasped on earth by love .Shall all things brighten , and this my sign be dark PAnd high from heaven suddenly rang the lark,Triumphant and the far first reflu e nt rayFilled all the hol low darkness full with day .

And on the deep sky’s verge a fluctuant lightGleamed , grew, shone , strengthened into perfe ctsight,

As bowed and dipped and rose again the sail ’s cle arwhite .

And swift and steadfast as a se a-mew’s wingIt neared before the w ind , as fain to bringComfort

,and shorten yet its narrowing track,

And she that saw looked hardly toward him back,Saying, Ay, the ship comes surely but he r sai l isblack .

And fain he would have sprung upright , and seen ,And spoken but strong death struck sheer between .


And darkness closed as iron round his headAnd smitten through the heart lay Tristram dead.

And scarce the word had flow n abroad , and wailRisen , ere to shoreward came the snow b right sail,And lightly forth leapt G anhardine on land ,And led from ship with swift and reverent handIseult and round them up from all the crowdBroke the great wail for Tristram out aloud .

And'

ere her ear might hear her heart had heard,

Nor sought she sign for witness of the wordBut came and stood above him newly dead,And felt his death upon her : and her headBowed , as to reach the spring that s lakes al ldrouth

And their four lips became one silent mouth .

So came their hour on them that were in lifeTristram and Iseult so from love and strifeThe stroke of love’s own hand felt last and bestGave them deliverance to perpetual rest .So , crownless of the wreaths that life had wound ,They slept

,with flower of tenderer comfort crowned

From bondage and the fear of time se t free,And all the yoke of space on earth and se aCast as a curb for ever nor might nowFear and desire bid soar their souls or bow,

Lift up their hearts or break them doubt nor griefMore now might move them , dread nor disbeliefTouch them with shadowy cold or fiery sting,Nor sleepless languor with its weary Wing,Nor harsh estrangement

,born of time ’s vain breath ,

Nor change,a darkness deeper far than death .



The word wherethrough their life long lot stoodshown ,

And when the long sealed springs of fate wereknown ,

The blind bright innocence of lips that quafl'

ed

Love , and the marvel of the mastering draught,And all the fraughtage of the fateful bark,Loud like a child upon them wept King Mark ,Seeing round the sword ’s hilt which long si nce hadfought

For Cornwall ’s love a scroll of writing wrought,A scripture writ of Tristram’s hand , whereinLay bare the sinless source of all their sin ,

No choice of wi l l,but chance and sorcerous art,

With prayer of him for pardon and his heartWas molten in him , wailing as he kissedEach with the kiss of kinship Had I wist ,Ye had never sinned nor died thus , nor had IBorne in this doom that bade you sin and dieSo sore a part of sorrow And the kingBuilt for their tomb a chapel bright l ike springWith flow e r-soft wealth of branching tracery madeFair as the frondage each fleet year sees fade ,That should not fall til l many a year were done .There Slept they wedded under moon and sunAnd change of stars and through the casementscame

Midnight and noon girt round with shadow andflame

To illume their grave or veil it til l at lastOn these things too was doom as darkness castFor the strong sea hath swallowed wall and tower,And where their l imbs were laid in woful hour

THE SAILING OF THE SWAN 1 5 1

For m any a fathom gleams and moves and moansThe tide that sweeps above their coflined bonesIn the wrecked chancel by the shivered shrineNor where they sleep Shall moon or sunlight ShineNor man look down for ever none Shall sayHere once, or here, Tristram and Iseult layBut peace they have that none may gain w ho l ive ,And rest about them that no love can give

,

And over them, while death and l ife shall be,The light and sound and darkness of the sea.

PRINTED AT THE com m PRESS

W E S T N O RW O O D, L ONDON

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