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@@ -1,38 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Merlin, by Edwin Arlington Robinson - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Merlin - A Poem - -Author: Edwin Arlington Robinson - -Release Date: September 30, 2012 [EBook #40906] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MERLIN *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive.) - - - - - - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40906 *** MERLIN @@ -2943,7 +2909,7 @@ Transcript._ "A lively tale told with humor and dramatic force."--_Booknews Monthly._ "... the attraction of the play is the manner in which from scene to scene -the interest is piqued, until at last there is a denouement almost Shavian +the interest is piqued, until at last there is a dénouement almost Shavian in its impudence, that is, in the impudence of the main characters."--_Kentucky Post._ @@ -2985,360 +2951,4 @@ Transcript._ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Merlin, by Edwin Arlington Robinson -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MERLIN *** - -***** This file should be named 40906.txt or 40906.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/9/0/40906/ - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Merlin - A Poem - -Author: Edwin Arlington Robinson - -Release Date: September 30, 2012 [EBook #40906] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MERLIN *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive.) - - - - - - - - - -MERLIN - - - - - BY THE SAME AUTHOR - - _POEMS_ - - CAPTAIN CRAIG - THE CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT - THE TOWN DOWN THE RIVER - THE MAN AGAINST THE SKY - - _PLAYS_ - - VAN ZORN. A Comedy in Three Acts - THE PORCUPINE. A Drama in Three Acts - - - - - MERLIN - - _A Poem_ - - - BY EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON - - - New York - THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - 1917 - _All rights reserved_ - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1917, - By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. - - Set up and electrotyped. Published March, 1917. - - - Norwood Press - J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co. - Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. - - - - -To GEORGE BURNHAM - - - - -MERLIN - - -I - - "Gawaine, Gawaine, what look ye for to see, - So far beyond the faint edge of the world? - D'ye look to see the lady Vivian, - Pursued by divers ominous vile demons - That have another king more fierce than ours? - Or think ye that if ye look far enough - And hard enough into the feathery west - Ye'll have a glimmer of the Grail itself? - And if ye look for neither Grail nor lady, - What look ye for to see, Gawaine, Gawaine?" - So Dagonet, whom Arthur made a knight - Because he loved him as he laughed at him, - Intoned his idle presence on a day - To Gawaine, who had thought himself alone, - Had there been in him thought of anything - Save what was murmured now in Camelot - Of Merlin's hushed and all but unconfirmed - Appearance out of Brittany. It was heard - At first there was a ghost in Arthur's palace, - But soon among the scullions and anon - Among the knights a firmer credit held - All tongues from uttering what all glances told-- - Though not for long. Gawaine, this afternoon, - Fearing he might say more to Lancelot - Of Merlin's rumor-laden resurrection - Than Lancelot would have an ear to cherish, - Had sauntered off with his imagination - To Merlin's Rock, where now there was no Merlin - To meditate upon a whispering town - Below him in the silence.--Once he said - To Gawaine: "You are young; and that being so, - Behold the shining city of our dreams - And of our King."--"Long live the King," said Gawaine.-- - "Long live the King," said Merlin after him; - "Better for me that I shall not be King; - Wherefore I say again, Long live the King, - And add, God save him, also, and all kings-- - All kings and queens. I speak in general. - Kings have I known that were but weary men - With no stout appetite for more than peace - That was not made for them."--"Nor were they made - For kings," Gawaine said, laughing.--"You are young - Gawaine, and you may one day hold the world - Between your fingers, knowing not what it is - That you are holding. Better for you and me, - I think, that we shall not be kings." - - Gawaine, - Remembering Merlin's words of long ago, - Frowned as he thought, and having frowned again, - He smiled and threw an acorn at a lizard: - "There's more afoot and in the air to-day - Than what is good for Camelot. Merlin - May or may not know all, but he said well - To say to me that he would not be King. - No more would I be King." Far down he gazed - On Camelot, until he made of it - A phantom town of many stillnesses, - Not reared for men to dwell in, or for kings - To reign in, without omens and obscure - Familiars to bring terror to their days; - For though a knight, and one as hard at arms - As any, save the fate-begotten few - That all acknowledged or in envy loathed, - He felt a foreign sort of creeping up - And down him, as of moist things in the dark,-- - When Dagonet, coming on him unawares, - Presuming on his title of Sir Fool, - Addressed him and crooned on till he was done: - "What look ye for to see, Gawaine, Gawaine?" - - "Sir Dagonet, you best and wariest - Of all dishonest men, I look through Time, - For sight of what it is that is to be. - I look to see it, though I see it not. - I see a town down there that holds a king, - And over it I see a few small clouds-- - Like feathers in the west, as you observe; - And I shall see no more this afternoon - Than what there is around us every day, - Unless you have a skill that I have not - To ferret the invisible for rats." - - "If you see what's around us every day, - You need no other showing to go mad. - Remember that and take it home with you; - And say tonight, 'I had it of a fool-- - With no immediate obliquity - For this one or for that one, or for me.'" - - Gawaine, having risen, eyed the fool curiously: - "I'll not forget I had it of a knight, - Whose only folly is to fool himself; - And as for making other men to laugh, - And so forget their sins and selves a little, - There's no great folly there. So keep it up, - As long as you've a legend or a song, - And have whatever sport of us you like - Till havoc is the word and we fall howling. - For I've a guess there may not be so loud - A sound of laughing here in Camelot - When Merlin goes again to his gay grave - In Brittany. To mention lesser terrors, - Men say his beard is gone." - - "Do men say that?" - A twitch of an impatient weariness - Played for a moment over the lean face - Of Dagonet, who reasoned inwardly: - "The friendly zeal of this inquiring knight - Will overtake his tact and leave it squealing, - One of these days."--Gawaine looked hard at him: - "If I be too familiar with a fool, - I'm on the way to be another fool," - He mused, and owned a rueful qualm within him: - "Yes, Dagonet," he ventured, with a laugh, - "Men tell me that his beard has vanished wholly, - And that he shines now as the Lord's anointed, - And wears the valiance of an ageless youth - Crowned with a glory of eternal peace." - - Dagonet, smiling strangely, shook his head: - "I grant your valiance of a kind of youth - To Merlin, but your crown of peace I question; - For, though I know no more than any churl - Who pinches any chambermaid soever - In the King's palace, I look not to Merlin - For peace, when out of his peculiar tomb - He comes again to Camelot. Time swings - A mighty scythe, and some day all your peace - Goes down before its edge like so much clover. - No, it is not for peace that Merlin comes, - Without a trumpet--and without a beard, - If what you say men say of him be true-- - Nor yet for sudden war." - - Gawaine, for a moment, - Met then the ambiguous gaze of Dagonet, - And, making nothing of it, looked abroad - As if at something cheerful on all sides, - And back again to the fool's unasking eyes: - "Well, Dagonet, if Merlin would have peace, - Let Merlin stay away from Brittany," - Said he, with admiration for the man - Whom Folly called a fool: "And we have known him; - We knew him once when he knew everything." - - "He knew as much as God would let him know - Until he met the lady Vivian. - I tell you that, for the world knows all that; - Also it knows he told the King one day - That he was to be buried, and alive, - In Brittany; and that the King should see - The face of him no more. Then Merlin sailed - Away to Vivian in Broceliande, - Where now she crowns him and herself with flowers, - And feeds him fruits and wines and many foods - Of many savors, and sweet ortolans. - Wise books of every lore of every land - Are there to fill his days, if he require them, - And there are players of all instruments-- - Flutes, hautboys, drums, and viols; and she sings - To Merlin, till he trembles in her arms - And there forgets that any town alive - Had ever such a name as Camelot. - So Vivian holds him with her love, they say, - And he, who has no age, has not grown old. - I swear to nothing, but that's what they say. - That's being buried in Broceliande - For too much wisdom and clairvoyancy. - But you and all who live, Gawaine, have heard - This tale, or many like it, more than once; - And you must know that Love, when Love invites - Philosophy to play, plays high and wins, - Or low and loses. And you say to me, - 'If Merlin would have peace, let Merlin stay - Away from Brittany.' Gawaine, you are young, - And Merlin's in his grave." - - "Merlin said once - That I was young, and it's a joy for me - That I am here to listen while you say it. - Young or not young, if that be burial, - May I be buried long before I die. - I might be worse than young; I might be old."-- - Dagonet answered, and without a smile: - "Somehow I fancy Merlin saying that; - A fancy--a mere fancy." Then he smiled: - "And such a doom as his may be for you, - Gawaine, should your untiring divination - Delve in the veiled eternal mysteries - Too far to be a pleasure for the Lord. - And when you stake your wisdom for a woman, - Compute the woman to be worth a grave, - As Merlin did, and say no more about it. - But Vivian, she played high. Oh, very high! - Flutes, hautboys, drums, and viols,--and her love. - Gawaine, farewell." - - "Farewell, Sir Dagonet, - And may the devil take you presently." - He followed with a vexed and envious eye, - And with an arid laugh, Sir Dagonet's - Departure, till his gaunt obscurity - Was cloaked and lost amid the glimmering trees. - "Poor fool!" he murmured. "Or am I the fool? - With all my fast ascendency in arms, - That ominous clown is nearer to the King - Than I am--yet; and God knows what he knows, - And what his wits infer from what he sees - And feels and hears. I wonder what he knows - Of Lancelot, or what I might know now, - Could I have sunk myself to sound a fool - To springe a friend.... No, I like not this day. - There's a cloud coming over Camelot - Larger than any that is in the sky,-- - Or Merlin would be still in Brittany, - With Vivian and the viols. It's all too strange." - - And later, when descending to the city, - Through unavailing casements he could hear - The roaring of a mighty voice within, - Confirming fervidly his own conviction: - "It's all too strange, and half the world's half crazy!"-- - He scowled: "Well, I agree with Lamorak." - He frowned, and passed: "And I like not this day." - - -II - - Sir Lamorak, the man of oak and iron, - Had with him now, as a care-laden guest, - Sir Bedivere, a man whom Arthur loved - As he had loved no man save Lancelot. - Like one whose late-flown shaft of argument - Had glanced and fallen afield innocuously, - He turned upon his host a sudden eye - That met from Lamorak's an even shaft - Of native and unused authority; - And each man held the other till at length - Each turned away, shutting his heavy jaws - Again together, prisoning thus two tongues - That might forget and might not be forgiven. - Then Bedivere, to find a plain way out, - Said, "Lamorak, let us drink to some one here, - And end this dryness. Who shall it be--the King, - The Queen, or Lancelot?"--"Merlin," Lamorak growled; - And then there were more wrinkles round his eyes - Than Bedivere had said were possible. - "There's no refusal in me now for that," - The guest replied; "so, 'Merlin' let it be. - We've not yet seen him, but if he be here, - And even if he should not be here, say 'Merlin.'" - They drank to the unseen from two new tankards, - And fell straightway to sighing for the past, - And what was yet before them. Silence laid - A cogent finger on the lips of each - Impatient veteran, whose hard hands lay clenched - And restless on his midriff, until words - Were stronger than strong Lamorak: - - "Bedivere," - Began the solid host, "you may as well - Say now as at another time hereafter - That all your certainties have bruises on 'em, - And all your pestilent asseverations - Will never make a man a salamander-- - Who's born, as we are told, so fire won't bite him,-- - Or a slippery queen a nun who counts and burns - Herself to nothing with her beads and candles. - There's nature, and what's in us, to be sifted - Before we know ourselves, or any man - Or woman that God suffers to be born. - That's how I speak; and while you strain your mazzard, - Like Father Jove, big with a new Minerva, - We'll say, to pass the time, that I speak well. - God's fish! The King had eyes; and Lancelot - Won't ride home to his mother, for she's dead. - The story is that Merlin warned the King - Of what's come now to pass; and I believe it. - And Arthur, he being Arthur and a king, - Has made a more pernicious mess than one, - We're told, for being so great and amorous: - It's that unwholesome and inclement cub - Young Modred I'd see first in hell before - I'd hang too high the Queen or Lancelot; - The King, if one may say it, set the pace, - And we've two strapping bastards here to prove it. - Young Borre, he's well enough; but as for Modred, - I squirm as often as I look at him. - And there again did Merlin warn the King, - The story goes abroad; and I believe it." - - Sir Bedivere, as one who caught no more - Than what he would of Lamorak's outpouring, - Inclined his grizzled head and closed his eyes - Before he sighed and rubbed his beard and spoke: - "For all I know to make it otherwise, - The Queen may be a nun some day or other; - I'd pray to God for such a thing to be, - If prayer for that were not a mockery. - We're late now for much praying, Lamorak, - When you and I can feel upon our faces - A wind that has been blowing over ruins - That we had said were castles and high towers-- - Till Merlin, or the spirit of him, came - As the dead come in dreams. I saw the King - This morning, and I saw his face. Therefore, - I tell you, if a state shall have a king, - The king must have the state, and be the state; - Or then shall we have neither king nor state, - But bones and ashes, and high towers all fallen: - And we shall have, where late there was a kingdom, - A dusty wreck of what was once a glory-- - A wilderness whereon to crouch and mourn - And moralize, or else to build once more - For something better or for something worse. - Therefore again, I say that Lancelot - Has wrought a potent wrong upon the King, - And all who serve and recognize the King, - And all who follow him and all who love him. - Whatever the stormy faults he may have had, - To look on him today is to forget them; - And if it be too late for sorrow now - To save him--for it was a broken man - I saw this morning, and a broken king-- - The God who sets a day for desolation - Will not forsake him in Avilion, - Or whatsoever shadowy land there be - Where peace awaits him on its healing shores." - - Sir Lamorak, shifting in his oaken chair, - Growled like a dog and shook himself like one: - "For the stone-chested, helmet-cracking knight - That you are known to be from Lyonnesse - To northward, Bedivere, you fol-de-rol - When days are rancid, and you fiddle-faddle - More like a woman than a man with hands - Fit for the smiting of a crazy giant - With armor an inch thick, as we all know - You are, when you're not sermonizing at us. - As for the King, I say the King, no doubt, - Is angry, sorry, and all sorts of things, - For Lancelot, and for his easy Queen, - Whom he took knowing she'd thrown sparks already - On that same piece of tinder, Lancelot, - Who fetched her with him from Leodogran - Because the King--God save poor human reason!-- - Would prove to Merlin, who knew everything - Worth knowing in those days, that he was wrong. - I'll drink now and be quiet,--but, by God, - I'll have to tell you, Brother Bedivere, - Once more, to make you listen properly, - That crowns and orders, and high palaces, - And all the manifold ingredients - Of this good solid kingdom, where we sit - And spit now at each other with our eyes, - Will not go rolling down to hell just yet - Because a pretty woman is a fool. - And here's Kay coming with his fiddle face - As long now as two fiddles. Sit ye down, - Sir Man, and tell us everything you know - Of Merlin--or his ghost without a beard. - What mostly is it?" - - Sir Kay, the seneschal, - Sat wearily while he gazed upon the two: - "To you it mostly is, if I err not, - That what you hear of Merlin's coming back - Is nothing more or less than heavy truth. - But ask me nothing of the Queen, I say, - For I know nothing. All I know of her - Is what her eyes have told the silences - That now attend her; and that her estate - Is one for less complacent execration - Than quips and innuendoes of the city - Would augur for her sin--if there be sin-- - Or for her name--if now she have a name. - And where, I say, is this to lead the King, - And after him, the kingdom and ourselves? - Here be we, three men of a certain strength - And some confessed intelligence, who know - That Merlin has come out of Brittany-- - Out of his grave, as he would say it for us-- - Because the King has now a desperation - More strong upon him than a woman's net - Was over Merlin--for now Merlin's here, - And two of us who knew him know how well - His wisdom, if he have it any longer, - Will by this hour have sounded and appraised - The grief and wrath and anguish of the King, - Requiring mercy and inspiring fear - Lest he forego the vigil now most urgent, - And leave unwatched a cranny where some worm - Or serpent may come in to speculate." - - "I know your worm, and his worm's name is Modred-- - Albeit the streets are not yet saying so," - Said Lamorak, as he lowered his wrath and laughed - A sort of poisonous apology - To Kay: "And in the meantime, I'll be gyved! - Here's Bedivere a-wailing for the King, - And you, Kay, with a moist eye for the Queen. - I think I'll blow a horn for Lancelot; - For by my soul a man's in sorry case - When Guineveres are out with eyes to scorch him: - I'm not so ancient or so frozen certain - That I'd ride horses down to skeletons - If she were after me. Has Merlin seen him-- - This Lancelot, this Queen-fed friend of ours?" - - Kay answered sighing, with a lonely scowl: - "The picture that I conjure leaves him out; - The King and Merlin are this hour together, - And I can say no more; for I know nothing. - But how the King persuaded or beguiled - The stricken wizard from across the water - Outriddles my poor wits. It's all too strange." - - "It's all too strange, and half the world's half crazy!" - Roared Lamorak, forgetting once again - The devastating carriage of his voice. - "Is the King sick?" he said, more quietly; - "Is he to let one damned scratch be enough - To paralyze the force that heretofore - Would operate a way through hell and iron, - And iron already slimy with his blood? - Is the King blind--with Modred watching him? - Does he forget the crown for Lancelot? - Does he forget that every woman mewing - Shall some day be a handful of small ashes?" - - "You speak as one for whom the god of Love - Has yet a mighty trap in preparation. - We know you, Lamorak," said Bedivere: - "We know you for a short man, Lamorak,-- - In deeds, if not in inches or in words; - But there are fens and heights and distances - That your capricious ranging has not yet - Essayed in this weird region of man's love. - Forgive me, Lamorak, but your words are words. - Your deeds are what they are; and ages hence - Will men remember your illustriousness, - If there be gratitude in history. - For me, I see the shadow of the end, - Wherein to serve King Arthur to the end, - And, if God have it so, to see the Grail - Before I die." - - But Lamorak shook his head: - "See what you will, or what you may. For me, - I see no other than a stinking mess-- - With Modred stirring it, and Agravaine - Spattering Camelot with as much of it - As he can throw. The Devil got somehow - Into God's workshop once upon a time, - And out of the red clay that he found there - He made a shape like Modred, and another - As like as eyes are to this Agravaine. - 'I never made 'em,' said the good Lord God, - 'But let 'em go, and see what comes of 'em.' - And that's what we're to do. As for the Grail, - I've never worried it, and so the Grail - Has never worried me." - - Kay sighed. "I see - With Bedivere the coming of the end," - He murmured; "for the King I saw today - Was not, nor shall he ever be again, - The King we knew. I say the King is dead; - The man is living, but the King is dead. - The wheel is broken." - - "Tut!" said Lamorak; - "There are no dead kings yet in Camelot; - But there is Modred who is hatching ruin,-- - And when it hatches I may not be here. - There's Gawaine too, and he does not forget - My father, who killed his. King Arthur's house - Has more division in it than I like - In houses; and if Modred's aim be good - For backs like mine, I'm not long for the scene." - - -III - - King Arthur, as he paced a lonely floor - That rolled a muffled echo, as he fancied, - All through the palace and out through the world, - Might now have wondered hard, could he have heard - Sir Lamorak's apathetic disregard - Of what Fate's knocking made so manifest - And ominous to others near the King-- - If any, indeed, were near him at this hour - Save Merlin, once the wisest of all men, - And weary Dagonet, whom he had made - A knight for love of him and his abused - Integrity. He might have wondered hard - And wondered much; and after wondering, - He might have summoned, with as little heart - As he had now for crowns, the fond, lost Merlin, - Whose Nemesis had made of him a slave, - A man of dalliance, and a sybarite. - - "Men change in Brittany, Merlin," said the King; - And even his grief had strife to freeze again - A dreary smile for the transmuted seer - Now robed in heavy wealth of purple silk, - With frogs and foreign tassels. On his face, - Too smooth now for a wizard or a sage, - Lay written, for the King's remembering eyes, - A pathos of a lost authority - Long faded, and unconscionably gone; - And on the King's heart lay a sudden cold: - "I might as well have left him in his grave, - As he would say it, saying what was true,-- - As death is true. This Merlin is not mine, - But Vivian's. My crown is less than hers, - And I am less than woman to this man." - - Then Merlin, as one reading Arthur's words - On viewless tablets in the air before him: - "Now, Arthur, since you are a child of mine-- - A foster-child, and that's a kind of child-- - Be not from hearsay or despair too eager - To dash your meat with bitter seasoning, - So none that are more famished than yourself - Shall have what you refuse. For you are King, - And if you starve yourself, you starve the state; - And then by sundry looks and silences - Of those you loved, and by the lax regard - Of those you knew for fawning enemies, - You may learn soon that you are King no more, - But a slack, blasted, and sad-fronted man, - Made sadder with a crown. No other friend - Than I could say this to you, and say more; - And if you bid me say no more, so be it." - - The King, who sat with folded arms, now bowed - His head and felt, unfought and all aflame - Like immanent hell-fire, the wretchedness - That only those who are to lead may feel-- - And only they when they are maimed and worn - Too sore to covet without shuddering - The fixed impending eminence where death - Itself were victory, could they but lead - Unbitten by the serpents they had fed. - Turning, he spoke: "Merlin, you say the truth: - There is no man who could say more to me - Today, or say so much to me, and live. - But you are Merlin still, or part of him; - I did you wrong when I thought otherwise, - And I am sorry now. Say what you will. - We are alone, and I shall be alone - As long as Time shall hide a reason here - For me to stay in this infested world - Where I have sinned and erred and heeded not - Your counsel; and where you yourself--God save us!-- - Have gone down smiling to the smaller life - That you and your incongruous laughter called - Your living grave. God save us all, Merlin, - When you, the seer, the founder, and the prophet, - May throw the gold of your immortal treasure - Back to the God that gave it, and then laugh - Because a woman has you in her arms ... - Why do you sting me now with a small hive - Of words that are all poison? I do not ask - Much honey; but why poison me for nothing, - And with a venom that I know already - As I know crowns and wars? Why tell a king-- - A poor, foiled, flouted, miserable king-- - That if he lets rats eat his fingers off - He'll have no fingers to fight battles with? - I know as much as that, for I am still - A king--who thought himself a little less - Than God; a king who built him palaces - On sand and mud, and hears them crumbling now, - And sees them tottering, as he knew they must. - You are the man who made me to be King-- - Therefore, say anything." - - Merlin, stricken deep - With pity that was old, being born of old - Foreshadowings, made answer to the King: - "This coil of Lancelot and Guinevere - Is not for any mortal to undo, - Or to deny, or to make otherwise; - But your most violent years are on their way - To days, and to a sounding of loud hours - That are to strike for war. Let not the time - Between this hour and then be lost in fears, - Or told in obscurations and vain faith - In what has been your long security; - For should your force be slower then than hate, - And your regret be sharper than your sight, - And your remorse fall heavier than your sword,-- - Then say farewell to Camelot, and the crown. - But say not you have lost, or failed in aught - Your golden horoscope of imperfection - Has held in starry words that I have read. - I see no farther now than I saw then, - For no man shall be given of everything - Together in one life; yet I may say - The time is imminent when he shall come - For whom I founded the Siege Perilous; - And he shall be too much a living part - Of what he brings, and what he burns away in, - To be for long a vexed inhabitant - Of this mad realm of stains and lower trials. - And here the ways of God again are mixed: - For this new knight who is to find the Grail - For you, and for the least who pray for you - In such lost coombs and hollows of the world - As you have never entered, is to be - The son of him you trusted--Lancelot, - Of all who ever jeopardized a throne - Sure the most evil-fated, saving one, - Your son, begotten, though you knew not then - Your leman was your sister, of Morgause; - For it is Modred now, not Lancelot, - Whose native hate plans your annihilation-- - Though he may smile till he be sick, and swear - Allegiance to an unforgiven father - Until at last he shake an empty tongue - Talked out with too much lying--though his lies - Will have a truth to steer them. Trust him not, - For unto you the father, he the son - Is like enough to be the last of terrors-- - If in a field of time that looms to you - Far larger than it is you fail to plant - And harvest the old seeds of what I say, - And so be nourished and adept again - For what may come to be. But Lancelot - Will have you first; and you need starve no more - For the Queen's love, the love that never was. - Your Queen is now your Kingdom, and hereafter - Let no man take it from you, or you die. - Let no man take it from you for a day; - For days are long when we are far from what - We love, and mischief's other name is distance. - Let that be all, for I can say no more; - Not even to Blaise the Hermit, were he living, - Could I say more than I have given you now - To hear; and he alone was my confessor." - - The King arose and paced the floor again. - "I get gray comfort of dark words," he said; - "But tell me not that you can say no more: - You can, for I can hear you saying it. - Yet I'll not ask for more. I have enough-- - Until my new knight comes to prove and find - The promise and the glory of the Grail, - Though I shall see no Grail. For I have built - On sand and mud, and I shall see no Grail."-- - "Nor I," said Merlin. "Once I dreamed of it, - But I was buried. I shall see no Grail, - Nor would I have it otherwise. I saw - Too much, and that was never good for man. - The man who goes alone too far goes mad-- - In one way or another. God knew best, - And he knows what is coming yet for me. - I do not ask. Like you, I have enough." - - That night King Arthur's apprehension found - In Merlin an obscure and restive guest, - Whose only thought was on the hour of dawn, - When he should see the last of Camelot - And ride again for Brittany; and what words - Were said before the King was left alone - Were only darker for reiteration. - They parted, all provision made secure - For Merlin's early convoy to the coast, - And Arthur tramped the past. The loneliness - Of kings, around him like the unseen dead, - Lay everywhere; and he was loath to move, - As if in fear to meet with his cold hand - The touch of something colder. Then a whim, - Begotten of intolerable doubt, - Seized him and stung him until he was asking - If any longer lived among his knights - A man to trust as once he trusted all, - And Lancelot more than all. "And it is he - Who is to have me first," so Merlin says,-- - "As if he had me not in hell already. - Lancelot! Lancelot!" He cursed the tears - That cooled his misery, and then he asked - Himself again if he had one to trust - Among his knights, till even Bedivere, - Tor, Bors, and Percival, rough Lamorak, - Griflet, and Gareth, and gay Gawaine, all - Were dubious knaves,--or they were like to be, - For cause to make them so; and he had made - Himself to be the cause. "God set me right, - Before this folly carry me on farther," - He murmured; and he smiled unhappily, - Though fondly, as he thought: "Yes, there is one - Whom I may trust with even my soul's last shred; - And Dagonet will sing for me tonight - An old song, not too merry or too sad." - When Dagonet, having entered, stood before - The King as one affrighted, the King smiled: - "You think because I call for you so late - That I am angry, Dagonet? Why so? - Have you been saying what I say to you, - And telling men that you brought Merlin here? - No? So I fancied; and if you report - No syllable of anything I speak, - You will have no regrets, and I no anger. - What word of Merlin was abroad today?" - - "Today have I heard no man save Gawaine, - And to him I said only what all men - Are saying to their neighbors. They believe - That you have Merlin here, and that his coming - Denotes no good. Gawaine was curious, - But ever mindful of your majesty. - He pressed me not, and we made light of it." - - "Gawaine, I fear, makes light of everything," - The King said, looking down. "Sometimes I wish - I had a full Round Table of Gawaines. - But that's a freak of midnight,--never mind it. - Sing me a song--one of those endless things - That Merlin liked of old, when men were younger - And there were more stars twinkling in the sky. - I see no stars that are alive tonight, - And I am not the king of sleep. So then, - Sing me an old song." - - Dagonet's quick eye - Caught sorrow in the King's; and he knew more, - In a fool's way, than even the King himself - Of what was hovering over Camelot. - "O King," he said, "I cannot sing tonight. - If you command me I shall try to sing, - But I shall fail; for there are no songs now - In my old throat, or even in these poor strings - That I can hardly follow with my fingers. - Forgive me--kill me--but I cannot sing." - Dagonet fell down then on both his knees - And shook there while he clutched the King's cold hand - And wept for what he knew. - - "There, Dagonet; - I shall not kill my knight, or make him sing. - No more; get up, and get you off to bed. - There'll be another time for you to sing, - So get you to your covers and sleep well." - Alone again, the King said, bitterly: - "Yes, I have one friend left, and they who know - As much of him as of themselves believe - That he's a fool. Poor Dagonet's a fool. - And if he be a fool, what else am I - Than one fool more to make the world complete? - 'The love that never was!' ... Fool, fool, fool, fool!" - - The King was long awake. No covenant - With peace was his tonight; and he knew sleep - As he knew the cold eyes of Guinevere - That yesterday had stabbed him, having first - On Lancelot's name struck fire, and left him then - As now they left him--with a wounded heart, - A wounded pride, and a sickening pang worse yet - Of lost possession. He thought wearily - Of watchers by the dead, late wayfarers, - Rough-handed mariners on ships at sea, - Lone-yawning sentries, wastrels, and all others - Who might be saying somewhere to themselves, - "The King is now asleep in Camelot; - God save the King."--"God save the King, indeed, - If there be now a king to save," he said. - Then he saw giants rising in the dark, - Born horribly of memories and new fears - That in the gray-lit irony of dawn - Were partly to fade out and be forgotten; - And then there might be sleep, and for a time - There might again be peace. His head was hot - And throbbing; but the rest of him was cold, - As he lay staring hard where nothing stood, - And hearing what was not, even while he saw - And heard, like dust and thunder far away, - The coming confirmation of the words - Of him who saw so much and feared so little - Of all that was to be. No spoken doom - That ever chilled the last night of a felon - Prepared a dragging anguish more profound - And absolute than Arthur, in these hours, - Made out of darkness and of Merlin's words; - No tide that ever crashed on Lyonnesse - Drove echoes inland that were lonelier - For widowed ears among the fisher-folk, - Than for the King were memories tonight - Of old illusions that were dead for ever. - - -IV - - The tortured King--seeing Merlin wholly meshed - In his defection, even to indifference, - And all the while attended and exalted - By some unfathomable obscurity - Of divination, where the Grail, unseen, - Broke yet the darkness where a king saw nothing-- - Feared now the lady Vivian more than Fate; - For now he knew that Modred, Lancelot, - The Queen, the King, the Kingdom, and the World, - Were less to Merlin, who had made him King, - Than one small woman in Broceliande. - Whereas the lady Vivian, seeing Merlin - Acclaimed and tempted and allured again - To service in his old magnificence, - Feared now King Arthur more than storms and robbers; - For Merlin, though he knew himself immune - To no least whispered little wish of hers - That might afflict his ear with ecstasy, - Had yet sufficient of his old command - Of all around him to invest an eye - With quiet lightning, and a spoken word - With easy thunder, so accomplishing - A profit and a pastime for himself-- - And for the lady Vivian, when her guile - Outlived at intervals her graciousness; - And this equipment of uncertainty, - Which now had gone away with him to Britain - With Dagonet, so plagued her memory - That soon a phantom brood of goblin doubts - Inhabited his absence, which had else - Been empty waiting and a few brave fears, - And a few more, she knew, that were not brave, - Or long to be disowned, or manageable. - She thought of him as he had looked at her - When first he had acquainted her alarm - At sight of the King's letter with its import; - And she remembered now his very words: - "The King believes today as in his boyhood - That I am Fate," he said; and when they parted - She had not even asked him not to go; - She might as well, she thought, have bid the wind - Throw no more clouds across a lonely sky - Between her and the moon,--so great he seemed - In his oppressed solemnity, and she, - In her excess of wrong imagining, - So trivial in an hour, and, after all - A creature of a smaller consequence - Than kings to Merlin, who made kings and kingdoms - And had them as a father; and so she feared - King Arthur more than robbers while she waited - For Merlin's promise to fulfil itself, - And for the rest that was to follow after: - "He said he would come back, and so he will. - He will because he must, and he is Merlin, - The master of the world--or so he was; - And he is coming back again to me - Because he must and I am Vivian. - It's all as easy as two added numbers: - Some day I'll hear him ringing at the gate, - As he rang on that morning in the spring, - Ten years ago; and I shall have him then - For ever. He shall never go away - Though kings come walking on their hands and knees - To take him on their backs." When Merlin came, - She told him that, and laughed; and he said strangely: - "Be glad or sorry, but no kings are coming. - Not Arthur, surely; for now Arthur knows - That I am less than Fate." - - Ten years ago - The King had heard, with unbelieving ears - At first, what Merlin said would be the last - Reiteration of his going down - To find a living grave in Brittany: - "Buried alive I told you I should be, - By love made little and by woman shorn, - Like Samson, of my glory; and the time - Is now at hand. I follow in the morning - Where I am led. I see behind me now - The last of crossways, and I see before me - A straight and final highway to the end - Of all my divination. You are King, - And in your kingdom I am what I was. - Wherever I have warned you, see as far - As I have seen; for I have shown the worst - There is to see. Require no more of me, - For I can be no more than what I was." - So, on the morrow, the King said farewell; - And he was never more to Merlin's eye - The King than at that hour; for Merlin knew - How much was going out of Arthur's life - With him, as he went southward to the sea. - - Over the waves and into Brittany - Went Merlin, to Broceliande. Gay birds - Were singing high to greet him all along - A broad and sanded woodland avenue - That led him on forever, so he thought, - Until at last there was an end of it; - And at the end there was a gate of iron, - Wrought heavily and invidiously barred. - He pulled a cord that rang somewhere a bell - Of many echoes, and sat down to rest, - Outside the keeper's house, upon a bench - Of carven stone that might for centuries - Have waited there in silence to receive him. - The birds were singing still; leaves flashed and swung - Before him in the sunlight; a soft breeze - Made intermittent whisperings around him - Of love and fate and danger, and faint waves - Of many sweetly-stinging fragile odors - Broke lightly as they touched him; cherry-boughs - Above him snowed white petals down upon him, - And under their slow falling Merlin smiled - Contentedly, as one who contemplates - No longer fear, confusion, or regret, - May smile at ruin or at revelation. - - A stately fellow with a forest air - Now hailed him from within, with searching words - And curious looks, till Merlin's glowing eye - Transfixed him and he flinched: "My compliments - And homage to the lady Vivian. - Say Merlin from King Arthur's Court is here, - A pilgrim and a stranger in appearance, - Though in effect her friend and humble servant. - Convey to her my speech as I have said it, - Without abbreviation or delay, - And so deserve my gratitude forever." - "But Merlin?" the man stammered; "Merlin? Merlin?"-- - "One Merlin is enough. I know no other. - Now go you to the lady Vivian - And bring to me her word, for I am weary." - Still smiling at the cherry-blossoms falling - Down on him and around him in the sunlight, - He waited, never moving, never glancing - This way or that, until his messenger - Came jingling into vision, weighed with keys, - And inly shaken with much wondering - At this great wizard's coming unannounced - And unattended. When the way was open - The stately messenger, now bowing low - In reverence and awe, bade Merlin enter; - And Merlin, having entered, heard the gate - Clang back behind him; and he swore no gate - Like that had ever clanged in Camelot, - Or any other place if not in hell. - "I may be dead; and this good fellow here, - With all his keys," he thought, "may be the Devil,-- - Though I were loath to say so, for the keys - Would make him rather more akin to Peter; - And that's fair reasoning for this fair weather." - - "The lady Vivian says you are most welcome," - Said now the stately-favored servitor, - "And are to follow me. She said, 'Say Merlin-- - A pilgrim and a stranger in appearance, - Though in effect my friend and humble servant-- - Is welcome for himself, and for the sound - Of his great name that echoes everywhere.'"-- - "I like you and I like your memory," - Said Merlin, curiously, "but not your gate. - Why forge for this elysian wilderness - A thing so vicious with unholy noise?"-- - "There's a way out of every wilderness - For those who dare or care enough to find it," - The guide said: and they moved along together, - Down shaded ways, through open ways with hedgerows. - And into shade again more deep than ever, - But edged anon with rays of broken sunshine - In which a fountain, raining crystal music, - Made faery magic of it through green leafage, - Till Merlin's eyes were dim with preparation - For sight now of the lady Vivian. - He saw at first a bit of living green - That might have been a part of all the green - Around the tinkling fountain where she gazed - Upon the circling pool as if her thoughts - Were not so much on Merlin--whose advance - Betrayed through his enormity of hair - The cheeks and eyes of youth--as on the fishes. - But soon she turned and found him, now alone, - And held him while her beauty and her grace - Made passing trash of empires, and his eyes - Told hers of what a splendid emptiness - Her tedious world had been without him in it - Whose love and service were to be her school, - Her triumph, and her history: "This is Merlin," - She thought; "and I shall dream of him no more. - And he has come, he thinks, to frighten me - With beards and robes and his immortal fame; - Or is it I who think so? I know not. - I'm frightened, sure enough, but if I show it, - I'll be no more the Vivian for whose love - He tossed away his glory, or the Vivian - Who saw no man alive to make her love him - Till she saw Merlin once in Camelot, - And seeing him, saw no other. In an age - That has no plan for me that I can read - Without him, shall he tell me what I am, - And why I am, I wonder?" While she thought, - And feared the man whom her perverse negation - Must overcome somehow to soothe her fancy, - She smiled and welcomed him; and so they stood, - Each finding in the other's eyes a gleam - Of what eternity had hidden there. - - "Are you always all in green, as you are now?" - Said Merlin, more employed with her complexion, - Where blood and olive made wild harmony - With eyes and wayward hair that were too dark - For peace if they were not subordinated; - "If so you are, then so you make yourself - A danger in a world of many dangers. - If I were young, God knows if I were safe - Concerning you in green, like a slim cedar, - As you are now, to say my life was mine: - Were you to say to me that I should end it, - Longevity for me were jeopardized. - Have you your green on always and all over?" - - "Come here, and I will tell you about that," - Said Vivian, leading Merlin with a laugh - To an arbored seat where they made opposites: - "If you are Merlin--and I know you are, - For I remember you in Camelot,-- - You know that I am Vivian, as I am; - And if I go in green, why, let me go so, - And say at once why you have come to me - Cloaked over like a monk, and with a beard - As long as Jeremiah's. I don't like it. - I'll never like a man with hair like that - While I can feed a carp with little frogs. - I'm rather sure to hate you if you keep it, - And when I hate a man I poison him." - - "You've never fed a carp with little frogs," - Said Merlin; "I can see it in your eyes."-- - "I might then, if I haven't," said the lady; - "For I'm a savage, and I love no man - As I have seen him yet. I'm here alone, - With some three hundred others, all of whom - Are ready, I dare say, to die for me; - I'm cruel and I'm cold, and I like snakes; - And some have said my mother was a fairy, - Though I believe it not." - - "Why not believe it?" - Said Merlin; "I believe it. I believe - Also that you divine, as I had wished, - In my surviving ornament of office - A needless imposition on your wits, - If not yet on the scope of your regard. - Even so, you cannot say how old I am, - Or yet how young. I'm willing cheerfully - To fight, left-handed, Hell's three headed hound - If you but whistle him up from where he lives; - I'm cheerful and I'm fierce, and I've made kings; - And some have said my father was the Devil, - Though I believe it not. Whatever I am, - I have not lived in Time until to-day." - A moment's worth of wisdom there escaped him, - But Vivian seized it, and it was not lost. - Embroidering doom with many levities, - Till now the fountain's crystal silver, fading, - Became a splash and a mere chilliness, - They mocked their fate with easy pleasantries - That were too false and small to be forgotten, - And with ingenious insincerities - That had no repetition or revival. - At last the lady Vivian arose, - And with a crying of how late it was - Took Merlin's hand and led him like a child - Along a dusky way between tall cones - Of tight green cedars: "Am I like one of these? - You said I was, though I deny it wholly."-- - "Very," said Merlin, to his bearded lips - Uplifting her small fingers.--"O, that hair!" - She moaned, as if in sorrow: "Must it be? - Must every prophet and important wizard - Be clouded so that nothing but his nose - And eyes, and intimations of his ears, - Are there to make us know him when we see him? - Praise heaven I'm not a prophet! Are you glad?"-- - - He did not say that he was glad or sorry; - For suddenly came flashing into vision - A thing that was a manor and a palace, - With walls and roofs that had a flaming sky - Behind them, like a sky that he remembered, - And one that had from his rock-sheltered haunt - Above the roofs of his forsaken city - Made flame as if all Camelot were on fire. - The glow brought with it a brief memory - Of Arthur as he left him, and the pain - That fought in Arthur's eyes for losing him, - And must have overflowed when he had vanished. - But now the eyes that looked hard into his - Were Vivian's, not the King's; and he could see, - Or so he thought, a shade of sorrow in them. - She took his two hands: "You are sad," she said.-- - He smiled: "Your western lights bring memories - Of Camelot. We all have memories-- - Prophets, and women who are like slim cedars; - But you are wrong to say that I am sad."-- - "Would you go back to Camelot?" she asked, - Her fingers tightening. Merlin shook his head. - "Then listen while I tell you that I'm glad," - She purred, as if assured that he would listen: - "At your first warning, much too long ago, - Of this quaint pilgrimage of yours to see - 'The fairest and most orgulous of ladies'-- - No language for a prophet, I am sure-- - Said I, 'When this great Merlin comes to me, - My task and avocation for some time - Will be to make him willing, if I can, - To teach and feed me with an ounce of wisdom.' - For I have eaten to an empty shell, - After a weary feast of observation - Among the glories of a tinsel world - That had for me no glory till you came, - A life that is no life. Would you go back - To Camelot?"--Merlin shook his head again, - And the two smiled together in the sunset. - - They moved along in silence to the door, - Where Merlin said: "Of your three hundred here - There is but one I know, and him I favor; - I mean the stately one who shakes the keys - Of that most evil sounding gate of yours, - Which has a clang as if it shut forever."-- - "If there be need, I'll shut the gate myself," - She said. "And you like Blaise? Then you shall have him. - He was not born to serve, but serve he must, - It seems, and be enamoured of my shadow. - He cherishes the taint of some high folly - That haunts him with a name he cannot know, - And I could fear his wits are paying for it. - Forgive his tongue, and humor it a little."-- - "I knew another one whose name was Blaise," - He said; and she said lightly, "Well, what of it?"-- - "And he was nigh the learnedest of hermits; - His home was far away from everywhere, - And he was all alone there when he died."-- - "Now be a pleasant Merlin," Vivian said, - Patting his arm, "and have no more of that; - For I'll not hear of dead men far away, - Or dead men anywhere this afternoon. - There'll be a trifle in the way of supper - This evening, but the dead shall not have any. - Blaise and this man will tell you all there is - For you to know. Then you'll know everything." - She laughed, and vanished like a humming-bird. - - -V - - The sun went down, and the dark after it - Starred Merlin's new abode with many a sconced - And many a moving candle, in whose light - The prisoned wizard, mirrored in amazement, - Saw fronting him a stranger, falcon-eyed, - Firm-featured, of a negligible age, - And fair enough to look upon, he fancied, - Though not a warrior born, nor more a courtier. - A native humor resting in his long - And solemn jaws now stirred, and Merlin smiled - To see himself in purple, touched with gold, - And fledged with snowy lace.--The careful Blaise, - Having drawn some time before from Merlin's wallet - The sable raiment of a royal scholar, - Had eyed it with a long mistrust and said: - "The lady Vivian would be vexed, I fear, - To meet you vested in these learned weeds - Of gravity and death; for she abhors - Mortality in all its hues and emblems-- - Black wear, long argument, and all the cold - And solemn things that appertain to graves."-- - And Merlin, listening, to himself had said, - "This fellow has a freedom, yet I like him;" - And then aloud: "I trust you. Deck me out, - However, with a temperate regard - For what your candid eye may find in me - Of inward coloring. Let them reap my beard, - Moreover, with a sort of reverence, - For I shall never look on it again. - And though your lady frown her face away - To think of me in black, for God's indulgence, - Array me not in scarlet or in yellow."-- - And so it came to pass that Merlin sat - At ease in purple, even though his chin - Reproached him as he pinched it, and seemed yet - A little fearful of its nakedness. - He might have sat and scanned himself for ever - Had not the careful Blaise, regarding him, - Remarked again that in his proper judgment, - And on the valid word of his attendants, - No more was to be done. "Then do no more," - Said Merlin, with a last look at his chin; - "Never do more when there's no more to do, - And you may shun thereby the bitter taste - Of many disillusions and regrets. - God's pity on us that our words have wings - And leave our deeds to crawl so far below them; - For we have all two heights, we men who dream, - Whether we lead or follow, rule or serve."-- - "God's pity on us anyhow," Blaise answered, - "Or most of us. Meanwhile, I have to say, - As long as you are here, and I'm alive, - Your summons will assure the loyalty - Of all my diligence and expedition. - The gong that you hear singing in the distance - Was rung for your attention and your presence."-- - "I wonder at this fellow, yet I like him," - Said Merlin; and he rose to follow him. - - The lady Vivian in a fragile sheath - Of crimson, dimmed and veiled ineffably - By the flame-shaken gloom wherein she sat, - And twinkled if she moved, heard Merlin coming, - And smiled as if to make herself believe - Her joy was all a triumph; yet her blood - Confessed a tingling of more wonderment - Than all her five and twenty worldly years - Of waiting for this triumph could remember; - And when she knew and felt the slower tread - Of his unseen advance among the shadows - To the small haven of uncertain light - That held her in it as a torch-lit shoal - Might hold a smooth red fish, her listening skin - Responded with a creeping underneath it, - And a crinkling that was incident alike - To darkness, love, and mice. When he was there, - She looked up at him in a whirl of mirth - And wonder, as in childhood she had gazed - Wide-eyed on royal mountebanks who made - So brief a shift of the impossible - That kings and queens would laugh and shake themselves; - Then rising slowly on her little feet, - Like a slim creature lifted, she thrust out - Her two small hands as if to push him back-- - Whereon he seized them. "Go away," she said; - "I never saw you in my life before."-- - "You say the truth," he answered; "when I met - Myself an hour ago, my words were yours. - God made the man you see for you to like, - If possible. If otherwise, turn down - These two prodigious and remorseless thumbs - And leave your lions to annihilate him."-- - - "I have no other lion than yourself," - She said; "and since you cannot eat yourself, - Pray do a lonely woman, who is, you say, - More like a tree than any other thing - In your discrimination, the large honor - Of sharing with her a small kind of supper."-- - "Yes, you are like a tree,--or like a flower; - More like a flower to-night." He bowed his head - And kissed the ten small fingers he was holding, - As calmly as if each had been a son; - Although his heart was leaping and his eyes - Had sight for nothing save a swimming crimson - Between two glimmering arms. "More like a flower - To-night," he said, as now he scanned again - The immemorial meaning of her face - And drew it nearer to his eyes. It seemed - A flower of wonder with a crimson stem - Came leaning slowly and regretfully - To meet his will--a flower of change and peril - That had a clinging blossom of warm olive - Half stifled with a tyranny of black, - And held the wayward fragrance of a rose - Made woman by delirious alchemy. - She raised her face and yoked his willing neck - With half her weight; and with hot lips that left - The world with only philosophy - For Merlin or for Anaxagoras, - Called his to meet them and in one long hush - Of capture to surrender and make hers - The last of anything that might remain - Of what were now their beardless wizardry. - Then slowly she began to push herself - Away, and slowly Merlin let her go - As far from him as his outreaching hands - Could hold her fingers while his eyes had all - The beauty of the woodland and the world - Before him in the firelight, like a nymph - Of cities, or a queen a little weary - Of inland stillness and immortal trees. - "Are you to let me go again sometime," - She said,--"before I starve to death, I wonder? - If not, I'll have to bite the lion's paws, - And make him roar. He cannot shake his mane, - For now the lion has no mane to shake; - The lion hardly knows himself without it, - And thinks he has no face, but there's a lady - Who says he had no face until he lost it. - So there we are. And there's a flute somewhere, - Playing a strange old tune. You know the words: - 'The Lion and the Lady are both hungry.'" - - Fatigue and hunger--tempered leisurely - With food that some devout magician's oven - Might after many failures have delivered, - And wine that had for decades in the dark - Of Merlin's grave been slowly quickening, - And with half-heard, dream-weaving interludes - Of distant flutes and viols, made yet more distant - By far, nostalgic hautboys blown from nowhere,-- - Were tempered not so leisurely, may be, - With Vivian's inextinguishable eyes - Between two shining silver candlesticks - That lifted each a trembling flame to make - The rest of her a dusky loveliness - Against a bank of shadow. Merlin made, - As well as he was able while he ate, - A fair division of the fealty due - To food and beauty, albeit more times than one - Was he at odds with his urbanity - In honoring too long the grosser viand. - "The best invention in Broceliande - Has not been over-taxed in vain, I see," - She told him, with her chin propped on her fingers - And her eyes flashing blindness into his: - "I put myself out cruelly to please you, - And you, for that, forget almost at once - The name and image of me altogether. - You needn't, for when all is analyzed, - It's only a bird-pie that you are eating." - - "I know not what you call it," Merlin said; - "Nor more do I forget your name and image, - Though I do eat; and if I did not eat, - Your sending out of ships and caravans - To get whatever 'tis that's in this thing - Would be a sorrow for you all your days; - And my great love, which you have seen by now, - Might look to you a lie; and like as not - You'd actuate some sinewed mercenary - To carry me away to God knows where - And seal me in a fearsome hole to starve, - Because I made of this insidious picking - An idle circumstance. My dear fair lady-- - And there is not another under heaven - So fair as you are as I see you now-- - I cannot look at you too much and eat; - And I must eat, or be untimely ashes, - Whereon the light of your celestial gaze - Would fall, I fear me, for no longer time - Than on the solemn dust of Jeremiah-- - Whose beard you likened once, in heathen jest, - To mine that now is no man's." - - "Are you sorry?" - Said Vivian, filling Merlin's empty goblet; - "If you are sorry for the loss of it, - Drink more of this and you may tell me lies - Enough to make me sure that you are glad; - But if your love is what you say it is, - Be never sorry that my love took off - That horrid hair to make your face at last - A human fact. Since I have had your name - To dream of and say over to myself, - The visitations of that awful beard - Have been a terror for my nights and days-- - For twenty years. I've seen it like an ocean, - Blown seven ways at once and wrecking ships, - With men and women screaming for their lives; - I've seen it woven into shining ladders - That ran up out of sight and so to heaven, - All covered with white ghosts with hanging robes - Like folded wings,--and there were millions of them, - Climbing, climbing, climbing, all the time; - And all the time that I was watching them - I thought how far above me Merlin was, - And wondered always what his face was like. - But even then, as a child, I knew the day - Would come some time when I should see his face, - And hear his voice, and have him in my house - Till he should care no more to stay in it, - And go away to found another kingdom."-- - "Not that," he said; and, sighing, drank more wine; - "One kingdom for one Merlin is enough."-- - "One Merlin for one Vivian is enough," - She said. "If you care much, remember that; - But the Lord knows how many Vivians - One Merlin's entertaining eye might favor, - Indifferently well and all at once, - If they were all at hand. Praise heaven they're not." - - "If they were in the world--praise heaven they're not-- - And if one Merlin's entertaining eye - Saw two of them, there might be left him then - The sight of no eye to see anything-- - Not even the Vivian who is everything, - She being Beauty, Beauty being She, - She being Vivian, and so forever."-- - "I'm glad you don't see two of me," she said; - "For there's a whole world yet for you to eat - And drink and say to me before I know - The kind of creature that you see in me. - I'm withering for a little more attention, - But, being woman, I can wait. These cups - That you see coming are for the last there is - Of what my father gave to kings alone, - And far from always. You are more than kings - To me; therefore I give it all to you, - Imploring you to spare no more of it - Than what a cockle-shell would hold for me - To pledge your love and mine in. Take the rest, - That I may see tonight the end of it; - I'll have no living remnant of the dead - Annoying me until it fades and sours - Of too long cherishing; for Time enjoys - The look that's on our faces when we scowl - On unexpected ruins, and thrift itself - May be a kind of slow unwholesome fire - That eats away to dust the life that feeds it. - You smile, I see, but I said what I said. - One hardly has to live a thousand years - To contemplate a lost economy; - So let us drink it while it's yet alive - And you and I are not untimely ashes. - My last words are your own, and I don't like 'em."-- - A sudden laughter scattered from her eyes - A threatening wisdom. He smiled and let her laugh, - Then looked into the dark where there was nothing: - "There's more in this than I have seen," he thought, - "Though I shall see it."--"Drink," she said again; - "There's only this much in the world of it, - And I am near to giving all to you - Because you are so great and I so little." - - With a long-kindling gaze that caught from hers - A laughing flame, and with a hand that shook - Like Arthur's kingdom, Merlin slowly raised - A golden cup that for a golden moment - Was twinned in air with hers; and Vivian, - Who smiled at him across their gleaming rims, - From eyes that made a fuel of the night - Surrounding her, shot glory over gold - At Merlin, while their cups touched and his trembled. - He drank, not knowing what, nor caring much - For kings who might have cared less for themselves, - He thought, had all the darkness and wild light - That fell together to make Vivian - Been there before them then to flower anew - Through sheathing crimson into candle-light - With each new leer of their loose, liquorish eyes. - Again he drank, and he cursed every king - Who might have touched her even in her cradle; - For what were kings to such as he, who made them - And saw them totter--for the world to see, - And heed, if the world would? He drank again, - And yet again--to make himself assured - No manner of king should have the last of it-- - The cup that Vivian filled unfailingly - Until she poured for nothing. "At the end - Of this incomparable flowing gold," - She prattled on to Merlin, who observed - Her solemnly, "I fear there may be specks."-- - He sighed aloud, whereat she laughed at him - And pushed the golden cup a little nearer. - He scanned it with a sad anxiety, - And then her face likewise, and shook his head - As if at her concern for such a matter: - "Specks? What are specks? Are you afraid of them?" - He murmured slowly, with a drowsy tongue; - "There are specks everywhere. I fear them not. - If I were king in Camelot, I might - Fear more than specks. But now I fear them not. - You are too strange a lady to fear specks." - - He stared a long time at the cup of gold - Before him but he drank no more. There came - Between him and the world a crumbling sky - Of black and crimson, with a crimson cloud - That held a far off town of many towers, - All swayed and shaken, till at last they fell, - And there was nothing but a crimson cloud - That crumbled into nothing, like the sky - That vanished with it, carrying away - The world, the woman, and all memory of them, - Until a slow light of another sky - Made gray an open casement, showing him - Faint shapes of an exotic furniture - That glimmered with a dim magnificence, - And letting in the sound of many birds - That were, as he lay there remembering, - The only occupation of his ears - Until it seemed they shared a fainter sound, - As if a sleeping child with a black head - Beside him drew the breath of innocence. - - One shining afternoon around the fountain, - As on the shining day of his arrival, - The sunlight was alive with flying silver - That had for Merlin a more dazzling flash - Than jewels rained in dreams, and a richer sound - Than harps, and all the morning stars together,-- - When jewels and harps and stars and everything - That flashed and sang and was not Vivian, - Seemed less than echoes of her least of words-- - For she was coming. Suddenly, somewhere - Behind him, she was coming; that was all - He knew until she came and took his hand - And held it while she talked about the fishes. - When she looked up he thought a softer light - Was in her eyes than once he had found there; - And had there been left yet for dusky women - A beauty that was heretofore not hers, - He told himself he must have seen it then - Before him in the face at which he smiled - And trembled. "Many men have called me wise," - He said, "but you are wiser than all wisdom - If you know what you are."--"I don't," she said; - "I know that you and I are here together; - I know that I have known for twenty years - That life would be almost a constant yawning - Until you came; and now that you are here, - I know that you are not to go away - Until you tell me that I'm hideous; - I know that I like fishes, ferns, and snakes,-- - Maybe because I liked them when the world - Was young and you and I were salamanders; - I know, too, a cool place not far from here, - Where there are ferns that are like marching men - Who never march away. Come now and see them, - And do as they do--never march away. - When they are gone, some others, crisp and green, - Will have their place, but never march away."-- - He smoothed her silky fingers, one by one: - "Some other Merlin, also, do you think, - Will have his place--and never march away?"-- - Then Vivian laid a finger on his lips - And shook her head at him before she laughed: - "There is no other Merlin than yourself, - And you are never going to be old." - Oblivious of a world that made of him - A jest, a legend, and a long regret, - And with a more commanding wizardry - Than his to rule a kingdom where the king - Was Love and the queen Vivian, Merlin found - His queen without the blemish of a word - That was more rough than honey from her lips, - Or the first adumbration of a frown - To cloud the night-wild fire that in her eyes - Had yet a smoky friendliness of home, - And a foreknowing care for mighty trifles. - "There are miles and miles for you to wander in," - She told him once: "Your prison yard is large, - And I would rather take my two ears off - And feed them to the fishes in the fountain - Than buzz like an incorrigible bee - For always around yours, and have you hate - The sound of me; for some day then, for certain, - Your philosophic rage would see in me - A bee in earnest, and your hand would smite - My life away. And what would you do then? - I know: for years and years you'd sit alone - Upon my grave, and be the grieving image - Of lean remorse, and suffer miserably; - And often, all day long, you'd only shake - Your celebrated head and all it holds, - Or beat it with your fist the while you groaned - Aloud and went on saying to yourself: - 'Never should I have killed her, or believed - She was a bee that buzzed herself to death, - First having made me crazy, had there been - Judicious distance and wise absences - To keep the two of us inquisitive.'"-- - "I fear you bow your unoffending head - Before a load that should be mine," said he; - "If so, you led me on by listening. - You should have shrieked and jumped, and then fled yelling; - That's the best way when a man talks too long. - God's pity on me if I love your feet - More now than I could ever love the face - Of any one of all those Vivians - You summoned out of nothing on the night - When I saw towers. I'll wander and amend."-- - At that she flung the noose of her soft arms - Around his neck and kissed him instantly: - "You are the wisest man that ever was, - And I've a prayer to make: May all you say - To Vivian be a part of what you knew - Before the curse of her unquiet head - Was on your shoulder, as you have it now, - To punish you for knowing beyond knowledge. - You are the only one who sees enough - To make me see how far away I am - From all that I have seen and have not been; - You are the only thing there is alive - Between me as I am and as I was - When Merlin was a dream. You are to listen - When I say now to you that I'm alone. - Like you, I saw too much; and unlike you - I made no kingdom out of what I saw-- - Or none save this one here that you must rule, - Believing you are ruled. I see too far - To rule myself. Time's way with you and me - Is our way, in that we are out of Time - And out of tune with Time. We have this place, - And you must hold us in it or we die. - Look at me now and say if what I say - Be folly or not; for my unquiet head - Is no conceit of mine. I had it first - When I was born; and I shall have it with me - Till my unquiet soul is on its way - To be, I hope, where souls are quieter. - So let the first and last activity - Of what you say so often is your love - Be always to remember that our lyres - Are not strung for Today. On you it falls - To keep them in accord here with each other, - For you have wisdom, I have only sight - For distant things--and you. And you are Merlin. - Poor wizard! Vivian is your punishment - For making kings of men who are not kings; - And you are mine, by the same reasoning, - For living out of Time and out of tune - With anything but you. No other man - Could make me say so much of what I know - As I say now to you. And you are Merlin!" - - She looked up at him till his way was lost - Again in the familiar wilderness - Of night that love made for him in her eyes, - And there he wandered as he said he would; - He wandered also in his prison-yard, - And, when he found her coming after him, - Beguiled her with her own admonishing - And frowned upon her with a fierce reproof - That many a time in the old world outside - Had set the mark of silence on strong men-- - Whereat she laughed, not always wholly sure, - Nor always wholly glad, that he who played - So lightly was the wizard of her dreams: - "No matter--if only Merlin keep the world - Away," she thought. "Our lyres have many strings, - But he must know them all, for he is Merlin."-- - And so for years, till ten of them were gone,-- - Ten years, ten seasons, or ten flying ages-- - Fate made Broceliande a paradise, - By none invaded, until Dagonet, - Like a discordant, awkward bird of doom, - Flew in with Arthur's message. For the King, - In sorrow cleaving to simplicity, - And having in his love a quick remembrance - Of Merlin's old affection for the fellow, - Had for this vain, reluctant enterprise - Appointed him--the knight who made men laugh, - And was a fool because he played the fool. - - "The King believes today, as in his boyhood, - That I am Fate; and I can do no more - Than show again what in his heart he knows," - Said Merlin to himself and Vivian: - "This time I go because I made him King, - Thereby to be a mirror for the world; - This time I go, but never after this, - For I can be no more than what I was, - And I can do no more than I have done." - He took her slowly in his arms and felt - Her body throbbing like a bird against him: - "This time I go; I go because I must." - - And in the morning, when he rode away - With Dagonet and Blaise through the same gate - That once had clanged as if to shut for ever, - She had not even asked him not to go; - For it was then that in his lonely gaze - Of helpless love and sad authority - She found the gleam of his imprisoned power - That Fate withheld; and, pitying herself, - She pitied the fond Merlin she had changed, - And saw the Merlin who had changed the world. - - -VI - - "No kings are coming on their hands and knees, - Nor yet on horses or in chariots, - To carry me away from you again," - Said Merlin, winding around Vivian's ear - A shred of her black hair. "King Arthur knows - That I have done with kings, and that I speak - No more their crafty language. Once I knew it, - But now the only language I have left - Is one that I must never let you hear - Too long, or know too well. When towering deeds - Once done shall only out of dust and words - Be done again, the doer may then be wary - Lest in the complement of his new fabric - There be more words than dust." - - "Why tell me so?" - Said Vivian; and a singular thin laugh - Came after her thin question. "Do you think - That I'm so far away from history - That I require, even of the wisest man - Who ever said the wrong thing to a woman, - So large a light on what I know already-- - When all I seek is here before me now - In your new eyes that you have brought for me - From Camelot? The eyes you took away - Were sad and old; and I could see in them - A Merlin who remembered all the kings - He ever saw, and wished himself, almost, - Away from Vivian, to make other kings, - And shake the world again in the old manner. - I saw myself no bigger than a beetle - For several days, and wondered if your love - Were large enough to make me any larger - When you came back. Am I a beetle still?" - She stood up on her toes and held her cheek - For some time against his, and let him go. - - "I fear the time has come for me to wander - A little in my prison-yard," he said.-- - "No, tell me everything that you have seen - And heard and done, and seen done, and heard done, - Since you deserted me. And tell me first - What the King thinks of me."--"The King believes - That you are almost what you are," he told her: - "The beauty of all ages that are vanished, - Reborn to be the wonder of one woman."-- - "I knew he hated me. What else of him?"-- - "And all that I have seen and heard and done, - Which is not much, would make a weary telling; - And all your part of it would be to sleep, - And dream that Merlin had his beard again."-- - "Then tell me more about your good fool knight, - Sir Dagonet. If Blaise were not half-mad - Already with his pondering on the name - And shield of his unshielding nameless father, - I'd make a fool of him. I'd call him Ajax; - I'd have him shake his fist at thunder-storms, - And dance a jig as long as there was lightning, - And so till I forgot myself entirely. - Not even your love may do so much as that."-- - "Thunder and lightning are no friends of mine," - Said Merlin slowly, "more than they are yours; - They bring me nearer to the elements - From which I came than I care now to be."-- - "You owe a service to those elements; - For by their service you outwitted age - And made the world a kingdom of your will."-- - He touched her hand, smiling: "Whatever service - Of mine awaits them will not be forgotten," - He said; and the smile faded on his face,-- - "Now of all graceless and ungrateful wizards--" - But there she ceased, for she found in his eyes - The first of a new fear. "The wrong word rules - Today," she said; "and we'll have no more journeys." - - Although he wandered rather more than ever - Since he had come again to Brittany - From Camelot, Merlin found eternally - Before him a new loneliness that made - Of garden, park, and woodland, all alike, - A desolation and a changelessness - Defying reason, without Vivian - Beside him, like a child with a black head, - Or moving on before him, or somewhere - So near him that, although he saw it not - With eyes, he felt the picture of her beauty - And shivered at the nearness of her being. - Without her now there was no past or future, - And a vague, soul-consuming premonition - He found the only tenant of the present; - He wondered, when she was away from him, - If his avenging injured intellect - Might shine with Arthur's kingdom a twin mirror, - Fate's plaything, for new ages without eyes - To see therein themselves and their declension. - Love made his hours a martyrdom without her; - The world was like an empty house without her, - Where Merlin was a prisoner of love - Confined within himself by too much freedom, - Repeating an unending exploration - Of many solitary silent rooms, - And only in a way remembering now - That once their very solitude and silence - Had by the magic of expectancy - Made sure what now he doubted--though his doubts, - Day after day, were founded on a shadow. - - For now to Merlin, in his paradise, - Had come an unseen angel with a sword - Unseen, the touch of which was a long fear - For longer sorrow that had never come, - Yet might if he compelled it. He discovered, - One golden day in autumn as he wandered, - That he had made the radiance of two years - A misty twilight when he might as well - Have had no mist between him and the sun, - The sun being Vivian. On his coming then - To find her all in green against a wall - Of green and yellow leaves, and crumbling bread - For birds around the fountain while she sang - And the birds ate the bread, he told himself - That everything today was as it was - At first, and for a minute he believed it. - "I'd have you always all in green out here," - He said, "if I had much to say about it."-- - She clapped her crumbs away and laughed at him: - "I've covered up my bones with every color - That I can carry on them without screaming, - And you have liked them all--or made me think so."-- - "I must have liked them if you thought I did," - He answered, sighing; "but the sight of you - Today as on the day I saw you first, - All green, all wonderful" ... He tore a leaf - To pieces with a melancholy care - That made her smile.--"Why pause at 'wonderful'? - You've hardly been yourself since you came back - From Camelot, where that unpleasant King - Said things that you have never said to me."-- - He looked upon her with a worn reproach: - "The King said nothing that I keep from you."-- - "What is it then?" she asked, imploringly; - "You man of moods and miracles, what is it?"-- - He shook his head and tore another leaf: - "There is no need of asking what it is; - Whatever you or I may choose to name it, - The name of it is Fate, who played with me - And gave me eyes to read of the unwritten - More lines than I have read. I see no more - Today than yesterday, but I remember. - My ways are not the ways of other men; - My memories go forward. It was you - Who said that we were not in tune with Time; - It was not I who said it."--"But you knew it; - What matter then who said it?"--"It was you - Who said that Merlin was your punishment - For being in tune with him and not with Time-- - With Time or with the world; and it was you - Who said you were alone, even here with Merlin; - It was not I who said it. It is I - Who tell you now my inmost thoughts." He laughed - As if at hidden pain around his heart, - But there was not much laughing in his eyes. - They walked, and for a season they were silent: - "I shall know what you mean by that," she said, - "When you have told me. Here's an oak you like, - And here's a place that fits me wondrous well - To sit in. You sit there. I've seen you there - Before; and I have spoiled your noble thoughts - By walking all my fingers up and down - Your countenance, as if they were the feet - Of a small animal with no great claws. - Tell me a story now about the world, - And the men in it, what they do in it, - And why it is they do it all so badly."-- - "I've told you every story that I know, - Almost," he said.--"O, don't begin like that."-- - "Well, once upon a time there was a King."-- - "That has a more commendable address; - Go on, and tell me all about the King; - I'll bet the King had warts or carbuncles, - Or something wrong in his divine insides, - To make him wish that Adam had died young." - - Merlin observed her slowly with a frown - Of saddened wonder. She laughed rather lightly, - And at his heart he felt again the sword - Whose touch was a long fear for longer sorrow. - "Well, once upon a time there was a king," - He said again, but now in a dry voice - That wavered and betrayed a venturing. - He paused, and would have hesitated longer, - But something in him that was not himself - Compelled an utterance that his tongue obeyed, - As an unwilling child obeys a father - Who might be richer for obedience - If he obeyed the child: "There was a king - Who would have made his reign a monument - For kings and peoples of the waiting ages - To reverence and remember, and to this end - He coveted and won, with no ado - To make a story of, a neighbor queen - Who limed him with her smile and had of him, - In token of their sin, what he found soon - To be a sort of mongrel son and nephew-- - And a most precious reptile in addition-- - To ornament his court and carry arms, - And latterly to be the darker half - Of ruin. Also the king, who made of love - More than he made of life and death together, - Forgot the world and his example in it - For yet another woman--one of many-- - And this one he made Queen, albeit he knew - That her unsworn allegiance to the knight - That he had loved the best of all his order - Must one day bring along the coming end - Of love and honor and of everything; - And with a kingdom builded on two pits - Of living sin,--so founded by the will - Of one wise counsellor who loved the king, - And loved the world and therefore made him king - To be a mirror for it,--the king reigned well - For certain years, awaiting a sure doom; - For certain years he waved across the world - A royal banner with a Dragon on it; - And men of every land fell worshipping - The Dragon as it were the living God, - And not the living sin." - - She rose at that, - And after a calm yawn, she looked at Merlin: - "Why all this new insistence upon sin?" - She said; "I wonder if I understand - This king of yours, with all his pits and dragons; - I know I do not like him." A thinner light - Was in her eyes than he had found in them - Since he became the willing prisoner - That she had made of him; and on her mouth - Lay now a colder line of irony - Than all his fears or nightmares could have drawn - Before today: "What reason do you know - For me to listen to this king of yours? - What reading has a man of woman's days, - Even though the man be Merlin and a prophet?" - - "I know no call for you to love the king," - Said Merlin, driven ruinously along - By the vindictive urging of his fate; - "I know no call for you to love the king, - Although you serve him, knowing not yet the king - You serve. There is no man, or any woman, - For whom the story of the living king - Is not the story of the living sin. - I thought my story was the common one, - For common recognition and regard." - - "Then let us have no more of it," she said; - "For we are not so common, I believe, - That we need kings and pits and flags and dragons - To make us know that we have let the world - Go by us. Have you missed the world so much - That you must have it in with all its clots - And wounds and bristles on to make us happy-- - Like Blaise, with shouts and horns and seven men - Triumphant with a most unlovely boar? - Is there no other story in the world - Than this one of a man that you made king - To be a moral for the speckled ages? - You said once long ago, if you remember, - 'You are too strange a lady to fear specks'; - And it was you, you said, who feared them not. - Why do you look at me as at a snake - All coiled to spring at you and strike you dead? - I am not going to spring at you, or bite you; - I'm going home. And you, if you are kind, - Will have no fear to wander for an hour. - I'm sure the time has come for you to wander; - And there may come a time for you to say - What most you think it is that we need here - To make of this Broceliande a refuge - Where two disheartened sinners may forget - A world that has today no place for them." - A melancholy wave of revelation - Broke over Merlin like a rising sea, - Long viewed unwillingly and long denied. - He saw what he had seen, but would not feel, - Till now the bitterness of what he felt - Was in his throat, and all the coldness of it - Was on him and around him like a flood - Of lonelier memories than he had said - Were memories, although he knew them now - For what they were--for what his eyes had seen, - For what his ears had heard and what his heart - Had felt, with him not knowing what it felt. - But now he knew that his cold angel's name - Was Change, and that a mightier will than his - Or Vivian's had ordained that he be there. - To Vivian he could not say anything - But words that had no more of hope in them - Than anguish had of peace: "I meant the world ... - I meant the world," he groaned; "not you--not me." - - Again the frozen line of irony - Was on her mouth. He looked up once at it. - And then away--too fearful of her eyes - To see what he could hear now in her laugh - That melted slowly into what she said, - Like snow in icy water: "This world of yours - Will surely be the end of us. And why not? - I'm overmuch afraid we're part of it,-- - Or why do we build walls up all around us, - With gates of iron that make us think the day - Of judgment's coming when they clang behind us? - And yet you tell me that you fear no specks! - With you I never cared for them enough - To think of them. I was too strange a lady. - And your return is now a speckled king - And something that you call a living sin-- - That's like an uninvited poor relation - Who comes without a welcome, rather late, - And on a foundered horse." - - "Specks? What are specks?" - He gazed at her in a forlorn wonderment - That made her say: "You said, 'I fear them not.' - 'If I were king in Camelot,' you said, - 'I might fear more than specks.' Have you forgotten? - Don't tell me, Merlin, you are growing old. - Why don't you make somehow a queen of me, - And give me half the world? I'd wager thrushes - That I should reign, with you to turn the wheel, - As well as any king that ever was. - The curse on me is that I cannot serve - A ruler who forgets that he is king." - - In his bewildered misery Merlin then - Stared hard at Vivian's face, more like a slave - Who sought for common mercy than like Merlin: - "You speak a language that was never mine, - Or I have lost my wits. Why do you seize - The flimsiest of opportunities - To make of what I said another thing - Than love or reason could have let me say, - Or let me fancy? Why do you keep the truth - So far away from me, when all your gates - Will open at your word and let me go - To some place where no fear or weariness - Of yours need ever dwell? Why does a woman, - Made otherwise a miracle of love - And loveliness, and of immortal beauty, - Tear one word by the roots out of a thousand, - And worry it, and torture it, and shake it, - Like a small dog that has a rag to play with? - What coil of an ingenious destiny - Is this that makes of what I never meant - A meaning as remote as hell from heaven?" - - "I don't know," Vivian said reluctantly, - And half as if in pain; "I'm going home. - I'm going home and leave you here to wander. - Pray take your kings and sins away somewhere - And bury them, and bury the Queen in also. - I know this king; he lives in Camelot, - And I shall never like him. There are specks - Almost all over him. Long live the king, - But not the king who lives in Camelot, - With Modred, Lancelot, and Guinevere-- - And all four speckled like a merry nest - Of addled eggs together. You made him King - Because you loved the world and saw in him - From infancy a mirror for the millions. - The world will see itself in him, and then - The world will say its prayers and wash its face, - And build for some new king a new foundation. - Long live the King!... But now I apprehend - A time for me to shudder and grow old - And garrulous--and so become a fright - For Blaise to take out walking in warm weather-- - Should I give way to long considering - Of worlds you may have lost while prisoned here - With me and my light mind. I contemplate - Another name for this forbidden place, - And one more fitting. Tell me, if you find it, - Some fitter name than Eden. We have had - A man and woman in it for some time, - And now, it seems, we have a Tree of Knowledge." - She looked up at the branches overhead - And shrugged her shoulders. Then she went away; - And what was left of Merlin's happiness, - Like a disloyal phantom, followed her. - - He felt the sword of his cold angel thrust - And twisted in his heart, as if the end - Were coming next, but the cold angel passed - Invisibly and left him desolate, - With misty brow and eyes. "The man who sees - May see too far, and he may see too late - The path he takes unseen," he told himself - When he found thought again. "The man who sees - May go on seeing till the immortal flame - That lights and lures him folds him in its heart, - And leaves of what there was of him to die - An item of inhospitable dust - That love and hate alike must hide away; - Or there may still be charted for his feet - A dimmer faring, where the touch of time - Were like the passing of a twilight moth - From flower to flower into oblivion, - If there were not somewhere a barren end - Of moths and flowers, and glimmering far away - Beyond a desert where the flowerless days - Are told in slow defeats and agonies, - The guiding of a nameless light that once - Had made him see too much--and has by now - Revealed in death, to the undying child - Of Lancelot, the Grail. For this pure light - Has many rays to throw, for many men - To follow; and the wise are not all pure, - Nor are the pure all wise who follow it. - There are more rays than men. But let the man - Who saw too much, and was to drive himself - From paradise, play too lightly or too long - Among the moths and flowers, he finds at last - There is a dim way out; and he shall grope - Where pleasant shadows lead him to the plain - That has no shadow save his own behind him. - And there, with no complaint, nor much regret, - Shall he plod on, with death between him now - And the far light that guides him, till he falls - And has an empty thought of empty rest; - Then Fate will put a mattock in his hands - And lash him while he digs himself the grave - That is to be the pallet and the shroud - Of his poor blundering bones. The man who saw - Too much must have an eye to see at last - Where Fate has marked the clay; and he shall delve, - Although his hand may slacken, and his knees - May rock without a method as he toils; - For there's a delving that is to be done-- - If not for God, for man. I see the light, - But I shall fall before I come to it; - For I am old. I was young yesterday. - Time's hand that I have held away so long - Grips hard now on my shoulder. Time has won. - Tomorrow I shall say to Vivian - That I am old and gaunt and garrulous, - And tell her one more story: I am old." - - There were long hours for Merlin after that, - And much long wandering in his prison-yard, - Where now the progress of each heavy step - Confirmed a stillness of impending change - And imminent farewell. To Vivian's ear - There came for many days no other story - Than Merlin's iteration of his love - And his departure from Broceliande, - Where Merlin still remained. In Vivian's eye, - There was a quiet kindness, and at times - A smoky flash of incredulity - That faded into pain. Was this the Merlin-- - This incarnation of idolatry - And all but supplicating deference-- - This bowed and reverential contradiction - Of all her dreams and her realities-- - Was this the Merlin who for years and years - Before she found him had so made her love him - That kings and princes, thrones and diadems, - And honorable men who drowned themselves - For love, were less to her than melon-shells? - Was this the Merlin whom her fate had sent - One spring day to come ringing at her gate, - Bewildering her love with happy terror - That later was to be all happiness? - Was this the Merlin who had made the world - Half over, and then left it with a laugh - To be the youngest, oldest, weirdest, gayest, - And wisest, and sometimes the foolishest - Of all the men of her consideration? - Was this the man who had made other men - As ordinary as arithmetic? - Was this man Merlin who came now so slowly - Towards the fountain where she stood again - In shimmering green? Trembling, he took her hands - And pressed them fondly, one upon the other, - Between his: - - "I was wrong that other day, - For I have one more story. I am old." - He waited like one hungry for the word - Not said; and she found in his eyes a light - As patient as a candle in a window - That looks upon the sea and is a mark - For ships that have gone down. "Tomorrow," he said; - "Tomorrow I shall go away again - To Camelot; and I shall see the King - Once more; and I may come to you again - Once more; and I shall go away again - For ever. There is now no more than that - For me to do; and I shall do no more. - I saw too much when I saw Camelot; - And I saw farther backward into Time, - And forward, than a man may see and live, - When I made Arthur king. I saw too far, - But not so far as this. Fate played with me - As I have played with Time; and Time, like me, - Being less than Fate, will have on me his vengeance. - On Fate there is no vengeance, even for God." - He drew her slowly into his embrace - And held her there, but when he kissed her lips - They were as cold as leaves and had no answer; - For Time had given him then, to prove his words, - A frozen moment of a woman's life. - - When Merlin the next morning came again - In the same pilgrim robe that he had worn - While he sat waiting where the cherry-blossoms - Outside the gate fell on him and around him, - Grief came to Vivian at the sight of him; - And like a flash of a swift ugly knife, - A blinding fear came with it. "Are you going?" - She said, more with her lips than with her voice; - And he said, "I am going. Blaise and I - Are going down together to the shore, - And Blaise is coming back. For this one day - Be good enough to spare him, for I like him. - I tell you now, as once I told the King, - That I can be no more than what I was, - And I can say no more than I have said. - Sometimes you told me that I spoke too long, - And sent me off to wander. That was good. - I go now for another wandering, - And I pray God that all be well with you." - - For long there was a whining in her ears - Of distant wheels departing. When it ceased, - She closed the gate again so quietly - That Merlin could have heard no sound of it. - - -VII - - By Merlin's Rock, where Dagonet the fool - Was given through many a dying afternoon - To sit and meditate on human ways - And ways divine, Gawaine and Bedivere - Stood silent, gazing down on Camelot. - The two had risen and were going home: - "It hits me sore, Gawaine," said Bedivere, - "To think on all the tumult and affliction - Down there, and all the noise and preparation - That hums of coming death, and, if my fears - Be born of reason, of what's more than death. - Wherefore, I say to you again, Gawaine,-- - To you--that this late hour is not too late - For you to change yourself and change the King; - For though the King may love me with a love - More tried, and older, and more sure, may be, - Than for another, for such a time as this - The friend who turns him to the world again - Shall have a tongue more gracious and an eye - More shrewd than mine. For such a time as this - The King must have a glamour to persuade him." - - "The King shall have a glamour, and anon," - Gawaine said, and he shot death from his eyes; - "If you were King, as Arthur is--or was-- - And Lancelot had carried off your Queen, - And killed a score or so of your best knights-- - Not mentioning my two brothers, whom he slew - Unarmored and unarmed--God save your wits! - Two stewards with skewers could have done as much, - And you and I might now be rotting for it." - - "But Lancelot's men were crowded,--they were crushed; - And there was nothing for them but to strike - Or die, not seeing where they struck. Think you - They would have slain Gareth and Gaheris, - And Tor, and all those other friends of theirs? - God's mercy for the world he made, I say, - And for the blood that writes the story of it. - Gareth and Gaheris, Tor and Lamorak,-- - All dead, with all the others that are dead! - These years have made me turn to Lamorak - For counsel--and now Lamorak is dead." - "Why do you fling those two names in my face? - 'Twas Modred made an end of Lamorak, - Not I; and Lancelot now has done for Tor. - I'll urge no king on after Lancelot - For such a two as Tor and Lamorak: - Their father killed my father, and their friend - Was Lancelot, not I. I'll own my fault-- - I'm living; and while I've a tongue can talk, - I'll say this to the King: 'Burn Lancelot - By inches till he give you back the Queen; - Then hang him--drown him--or do anything - To rid the world of him.' He killed my brothers, - And he was once my friend. Now damn the soul - Of him who killed my brothers! There you have me." - - "You are a strong man, Gawaine, and your strength - Goes ill where foes are. You may cleave their limbs - And heads off, but you cannot damn their souls; - What you may do now is to save their souls, - And bodies too, and like enough your own. - Remember that King Arthur is a king, - And where there is a king there is a kingdom - Is not the kingdom any more to you - Than one brief enemy? Would you see it fall, - And the King with it, for one mortal hate - That burns out reason? Gawaine, you are king - Today. Another day may see no king - But Havoc, if you have no other word - For Arthur now than hate for Lancelot. - Is not the world as large as Lancelot? - Is Lancelot, because one woman's eyes - Are brighter when they look on him, to sluice - The world with angry blood? Poor flesh! Poor flesh! - And you, Gawaine,--are you so gaffed with hate - You cannot leave it and so plunge away - To stiller places and there see, for once, - What hangs on this pernicious expedition - The King in his insane forgetfulness - Would undertake--with you to drum him on? - Are you as mad as he and Lancelot - Made ravening into one man twice as mad - As either? Is the kingdom of the world, - Now rocking, to go down in sound and blood - And ashes and sick ruin, and for the sake - Of three men and a woman? If it be so, - God's mercy for the world he made, I say,-- - And say again to Dagonet. Sir Fool, - Your throne is empty, and you may as well - Sit on it and be ruler of the world - From now till supper-time." - - Sir Dagonet, - Appearing, made reply to Bedivere's - Dry welcome with a famished look of pain, - On which he built a smile: "If I were King, - You, Bedivere, should be my counsellor; - And we should have no more wars over women. - I'll sit me down and meditate on that." - Gawaine, for all his anger, laughed a little, - And clapped the fool's lean shoulder; for he loved him - And was with Arthur when he made him knight. - Then Dagonet said on to Bedivere, - As if his tongue would make a jest of sorrow: - "Sometime I'll tell you what I might have done - Had I been Lancelot and you King Arthur-- - Each having in himself the vicious essence - That now lives in the other and makes war. - When all men are like you and me, my lord, - When all are rational or rickety, - There may be no more war. But what's here now? - Lancelot loves the Queen, and he makes war - Of love; the King, being bitten to the soul - By love and hate that work in him together, - Makes war of madness; Gawaine hates Lancelot, - And he, to be in tune, makes war of hate; - Modred hates everything, yet he can see - With one damned illegitimate small eye - His father's crown, and with another like it - He sees the beauty of the Queen herself; - He needs the two for his ambitious pleasure, - And therefore he makes war of his ambition; - And somewhere in the middle of all this - There's a squeezed world that elbows for attention. - Poor Merlin, buried in Broceliande! - He must have had an academic eye - For woman when he founded Arthur's kingdom, - And in Broceliande he may be sorry. - Flutes, hautboys, drums, and viols. God be with him! - I'm glad they tell me there's another world, - For this one's a disease without a doctor." - - "No, not so bad as that," said Bedivere; - "The doctor, like ourselves, may now be learning; - And Merlin may have gauged his enterprise - Whatever the cost he may have paid for knowing. - We pass, but many are to follow us, - And what they build may stay; though I believe - Another age will have another Merlin, - Another Camelot, and another King. - Sir Dagonet, farewell." - - "Farewell, Sir Knight, - And you, Sir Knight: Gawaine, you have the world - Now in your fingers--an uncommon toy, - Albeit a small persuasion in the balance - With one man's hate. I'm glad you're not a fool, - For then you might be rickety, as I am, - And rational as Bedivere. Farewell. - I'll sit here and be king. God save the King!" - - But Gawaine scowled and frowned and answered nothing - As he went slowly down with Bedivere - To Camelot, where Arthur's army waited - The King's word for the melancholy march - To Joyous Gard, where Lancelot hid the Queen - And armed his host, and there was now no joy, - As there was now no joy for Dagonet - While he sat brooding, with his wan cheek-bones - Hooked with his bony fingers: "Go, Gawaine," - He mumbled: "Go your way, and drag the world - Along down with you. What's a world or so - To you if you can hide an ell of iron - Somewhere in Lancelot, and hear him wheeze - And sputter once or twice before he goes - Wherever the Queen sends him? There's a man - Who should have been a king, and would have been, - Had he been born so. So should I have been - A king, had I been born so, fool or no: - King Dagonet, or Dagonet the King; - King-Fool, Fool-King; 'twere not impossible. - I'll meditate on that and pray for Arthur, - Who made me all I am, except a fool. - Now he goes mad for love, as I might go - Had I been born a king and not a fool. - Today I think I'd rather be a fool; - Today the world is less than one scared woman-- - Wherefore a field of waving men may soon - Be shorn by Time's indifferent scythe, because - The King is mad. The seeds of history - Are small, but given a few gouts of warm blood - For quickening, they sprout out wondrously - And have a leaping growth whereof no man - May shun such harvesting of change or death, - Or life, as may fall on him to be borne. - When I am still alive and rickety, - And Bedivere's alive and rational-- - If he come out of this, and there's a doubt,-- - The King, Gawaine, Modred, and Lancelot - May all be lying underneath a weight - Of bloody sheaves too heavy for their shoulders, - All spent, and all dishonored, and all dead; - And if it come to be that this be so, - And it be true that Merlin saw the truth, - Such harvest were the best. Your fool sees not - So far as Merlin sees: yet if he saw - The truth--why then, such harvest were the best. - I'll pray for Arthur; I can do no more." - - "Why not for Merlin? Or do you count him, - In this extreme, so foreign to salvation - That prayer would be a stranger to his name?" - - Poor Dagonet, with terror shaking him, - Stood up and saw before him an old face - Made older with an inch of silver beard, - And faded eyes more eloquent of pain - And ruin than all the faded eyes of age - Till now had ever been, although in them - There was a mystic and intrinsic peace - Of one who sees where men of nearer sight - See nothing. On their way to Camelot, - Gawaine and Bedivere had passed him by, - With lax attention for the pilgrim cloak - They passed, and what it hid: yet Merlin saw - Their faces, and he saw the tale was true - That he had lately drawn from solemn strangers. - - "Well, Dagonet, and by your leave," he said, - "I'll rest my lonely relics for a while - On this rock that was mine and now is yours. - I favor the succession; for you know - Far more than many doctors, though your doubt - Is your peculiar poison. I foresaw - Long since, and I have latterly been told - What moves in this commotion down below - To show men what it means. It means the end-- - If men whose tongues had less to say to me - Than had their shoulders are adept enough - To know; and you may pray for me or not, - Sir Friend, Sir Dagonet." - - "Sir Fool, you mean," - Dagonet said, and gazed on Merlin sadly: - "I'll never pray again for anything, - And last of all for this that you behold-- - The smouldering faggot of unlovely bones - That God has given to me to call Myself. - When Merlin comes to Dagonet for prayer, - It is indeed the end." - - "And in the end - Are more beginnings, Dagonet, than men - Shall name or know today. It was the end - Of Arthur's insubstantial majesty - When to him and his knights the Grail foreshowed - The quest of life that was to be the death - Of many, and the slow discouraging - Of many more. Or do I err in this?" - - "No," Dagonet replied; "there was a Light; - And Galahad, in the Siege Perilous, - Alone of all on whom it fell, was calm; - There was a Light wherein men saw themselves - In one another as they might become-- - Or so they dreamed. There was a long to-do, - And Gawaine, of all forlorn ineligibles, - Rose up the first, and cried more lustily - Than any after him that he should find - The Grail, or die for it,--though he did neither; - For he came back as living and as fit - For new and old iniquity as ever. - Then Lancelot came back, and Bors came back,-- - Like men who had seen more than men should see, - And still come back. They told of Percival, - Who saw too much to make of this worn life - A long necessity, and of Galahad, - Who died and is alive. They all saw Something. - God knows the meaning or the end of it, - But they saw Something. And if I've an eye, - Small joy has the Queen been to Lancelot - Since he came back from seeing what he saw; - For though his passion hold him like hot claws, - He's neither in the world nor out of it. - Gawaine is king, though Arthur wears the crown; - And Gawaine's hate for Lancelot is the sword - That hangs by one of Merlin's fragile hairs - Above the world. Were you to see the King, - The frenzy that has overthrown his wisdom, - Instead of him and his upheaving empire, - Might have an end." - - "I came to see the King," - Said Merlin, like a man who labors hard - And long with an importunate confession. - "No, Dagonet, you cannot tell me why, - Although your tongue is eager with wild hope - To tell me more than I may tell myself - About myself. All this that was to be - Might show to man how vain it were to wreck - The world for self, if it were all in vain. - When I began with Arthur I could see - In each bewildered man who dots the earth - A moment with his days a groping thought - Of an eternal will, strangely endowed - With merciful illusions whereby self - Becomes the will itself and each man swells - In fond accordance with his agency. - Now Arthur, Modred, Lancelot, and Gawaine - Are swollen thoughts of this eternal will - Which have no other way to find the way - That leads them on to their inheritance - Than by the time-infuriating flame - Of a wrecked empire, lighted by the torch - Of woman, who, together with the light - That Galahad found, is yet to light the world." - - A wan smile crept across the weary face - Of Dagonet the fool: "If you knew that - Before your burial in Broceliande, - No wonder your eternal will accords - With all your dreams of what the world requires. - My master, I may say this unto you - Because I am a fool, and fear no man; - My fear is that I've been a groping thought - That never swelled enough. You say the torch - Of woman and the light that Galahad found - Are some day to illuminate the world? - I'll meditate on that. The world is done - For me; and I have been, to make men laugh, - A lean thing of no shape and many capers. - I made them laugh, and I could laugh anon - Myself to see them killing one another - Because a woman with corn-colored hair - Has pranked a man with horns. 'Twas but a flash - Of chance, and Lancelot, the other day - That saved this pleasing sinner from the fire - That she may spread for thousands. Were she now - The cinder the King willed, or were you now - To see the King, the fire might yet go out; - But the eternal will says otherwise. - So be it; I'll assemble certain gold - That I may say is mine and get myself - Away from this accurst unhappy court, - And in some quiet place where shepherd clowns - And cowherds may have more respondent ears - Than kings and kingdom-builders, I shall troll - Old men to easy graves and be a child - Again among the children of the earth. - I'll have no more of kings, even though I loved - King Arthur, who is mad, as I could love - No other man save Merlin, who is dead." - - "Not wholly dead, but old. Merlin is old." - The wizard shivered as he spoke, and stared - Away into the sunset where he saw - Once more, as through a cracked and cloudy glass, - A crumbling sky that held a crimson cloud - Wherein there was a town of many towers - All swayed and shaken, in a woman's hand - This time, till out of it there spilled and flashed - And tumbled, like loose jewels, town, towers, and walls, - And there was nothing but a crumbling sky - That made anon of black and red and ruin - A wild and final rain on Camelot. - He bowed, and pressed his eyes: "Now by my soul, - I have seen this before--all black and red-- - Like that--like that--like Vivian--black and red; - Like Vivian, when her eyes looked into mine - Across the cups of gold. A flute was playing-- - Then all was black and red." - - Another smile - Crept over the wan face of Dagonet, - Who shivered in his turn. "The torch of woman," - He muttered, "and the light that Galahad found, - Will some day save us all, as they saved Merlin. - Forgive my shivering wits, but I am cold, - And it will soon be dark. Will you go down - With me to see the King, or will you not? - If not, I go tomorrow to the shepherds. - The world is mad, and I'm a groping thought - Of your eternal will; the world and I - Are strangers, and I'll have no more of it-- - Except you go with me to see the King." - - "No, Dagonet, you cannot leave me now," - Said Merlin, sadly. "You and I are old; - And, as you say, we fear no man. God knows - I would not have the love that once you had - For me be fear of me, for I am past - All fearing now. But Fate may send a fly - Sometimes, and he may sting us to the grave, - So driven to test our faith in what we see. - Are you, now I am coming to an end, - As Arthur's days are coming to an end, - To sting me like a fly? I do not ask - Of you to say that you see what I see, - Where you see nothing; nor do I require - Of any man more vision than is his; - Yet I could wish for you a larger part - For your last entrance here than this you play - Tonight of a sad insect stinging Merlin. - The more you sting, the more he pities you; - And you were never overfond of pity. - Had you been so, I doubt if Arthur's love, - Or Gawaine's, would have made of you a knight. - No, Dagonet, you cannot leave me now, - Nor would you if you could. You call yourself - A fool, because the world and you are strangers. - You are a proud man, Dagonet; you have suffered - What I alone have seen. You are no fool; - And surely you are not a fly to sting - My love to last regret. Believe or not - What I have seen, or what I say to you, - But say no more to me that I am dead - Because the King is mad, and you are old, - And I am older. In Broceliande - Time overtook me as I knew he must; - And I, with a fond overplus of words, - Had warned the lady Vivian already, - Before these wrinkles and this hesitancy - Inhibiting my joints oppressed her sight - With age and dissolution. She said once - That she was cold and cruel; but she meant - That she was warm and kind, and over-wise - For woman in a world where men see not - Beyond themselves. She saw beyond them all, - As I did; and she waited, as I did, - The coming of a day when cherry-blossoms - Were to fall down all over me like snow - In springtime. I was far from Camelot - That afternoon; and I am farther now - From her. I see no more for me to do - Than to leave her and Arthur and the world - Behind me, and to pray that all be well - With Vivian, whose unquiet heart is hungry - For what is not, and what shall never be - Without her, in a world that men are making, - Knowing not how, nor caring yet to know - How slowly and how grievously they do it,-- - Though Vivian, in her golden shell of exile, - Knows now and cares, not knowing that she cares, - Nor caring that she knows. In time to be, - The like of her shall have another name - Than Vivian, and her laugh shall be a fire, - Not shining only to consume itself - With what it burns. She knows not yet the name - Of what she is, for now there is no name; - Some day there shall be. Time has many names, - Unwritten yet, for what we say is old - Because we are so young that it seems old. - And this is all a part of what I saw - Before you saw King Arthur. When we parted, - I told her I should see the King again, - And, having seen him, might go back again - To see her face once more. But I shall see - No more the lady Vivian. Let her love - What man she may, no other love than mine - Shall be an index of her memories. - I fear no man who may come after me, - And I see none. I see her, still in green, - Beside the fountain. I shall not go back. - We pay for going back; and all we get - Is one more needless ounce of weary wisdom - To bring away with us. If I come not, - The lady Vivian will remember me, - And say: 'I knew him when his heart was young, - Though I have lost him now. Time called him home, - And that was as it was; for much is lost - Between Broceliande and Camelot.'" - - He stared away into the west again, - Where now no crimson cloud or phantom town - Deceived his eyes. Above a living town - There were gray clouds and ultimate suspense, - And a cold wind was coming. Dagonet, - Now crouched at Merlin's feet in his dejection, - Saw multiplying lights far down below, - Where lay the fevered streets. At length he felt - On his lean shoulder Merlin's tragic hand - And trembled, knowing that a few more days - Would see the last of Arthur and the first - Of Modred, whose dark patience had attained - To one precarious half of what he sought: - "And even the Queen herself may fall to him," - Dagonet murmured.--"The Queen fall to Modred? - Is that your only fear tonight?" said Merlin; - "She may, but not for long."--"No, not my fear; - For I fear nothing. But I wish no fate - Like that for any woman the King loves, - Although she be the scourge and end of him - That you saw coming, as I see it now." - Dagonet shook, but he would have no tears, - He swore, for any king, queen, knave, or wizard-- - Albeit he was a stranger among those - Who laughed at him because he was a fool. - "You said the truth, I cannot leave you now," - He stammered, and was angry for the tears - That mocked his will and choked him. - - Merlin smiled, - Faintly, and for the moment: "Dagonet, - I need your word as one of Arthur's knights - That you will go on with me to the end - Of my short way, and say unto no man - Or woman that you found or saw me here. - No good would follow, for a doubt would live - Unstifled of my loyalty to him - Whose deeds are wrought for those who are to come; - And many who see not what I have seen, - Or what you see tonight, would prattle on - For ever, and their children after them, - Of what might once have been had I gone down - With you to Camelot to see the King. - I came to see the King,--but why see kings? - All this that was to be is what I saw - Before there was an Arthur to be king, - And so to be a mirror wherein men - May see themselves, and pause. If they see not, - Or if they do see and they ponder not,-- - I saw; but I was neither Fate nor God. - I saw too much; and this would be the end, - Were there to be an end. I saw myself-- - A sight no other man has ever seen; - And through the dark that lay beyond myself - I saw two fires that are to light the world." - On Dagonet the silent hand of Merlin - Weighed now as living iron that held him down - With a primeval power. Doubt, wonderment, - Impatience, and a self-accusing sorrow - Born of an ancient love, possessed and held him - Until his love was more than he could name, - And he was Merlin's fool, not Arthur's now: - "Say what you will, I say that I'm the fool - Of Merlin, King of Nowhere; which is Here. - With you for king and me for court, what else - Have we to sigh for but a place to sleep? - I know a tavern that will take us in; - And on the morrow I shall follow you - Until I die for you. And when I die ..."-- - "Well, Dagonet, the King is listening."-- - And Dagonet answered, hearing in the words - Of Merlin a grave humor and a sound - Of graver pity, "I shall die a fool." - He heard what might have been a father's laugh, - Faintly behind him; and the living weight - Of Merlin's hand was lifted. They arose, - And, saying nothing, found a groping way - Down through the gloom together. Fiercer now, - The wind was like a flying animal - That beat the two of them incessantly - With icy wings, and bit them as they went. - The rock above them was an empty place - Where neither seer nor fool should view again - The stricken city. Colder blew the wind - Across the world, and on it heavier lay - The shadow and the burden of the night; - And there was darkness over Camelot. - - -Printed in the United States of America. - - - - -The following pages contain advertisements of books by the same author. - - -BY THE SAME AUTHOR - -The Man Against the Sky - -_Cloth, $1.00; Leather, $1.60_ - -It has been some years since Mr. Robinson has given us a new collection of -poems. Those who remember "Captain Craig, A Book of Poems," a volume which -brought to its author the heartiest of congratulations, placing him at -once in the rank of those American writers whose contributions to -literature are of permanent value, will welcome this new work and will -find that their anticipation of it and hopes for it have been realized. - -"A new book by Edwin Arlington Robinson is something of a literary -event.... In these selections we have the richly assorted best of -Robinson; which is the same as saying that we have here one of the most -direct and distinctive writers of the day."--_Chicago Evening Post._ - -"He is writing as good poetry as is being written on either side of the -Atlantic."--_New York Sun._ - -"Mr. Robinson, with his fascinating, discursive style, is one of the best -singers in this country to-day."--_Springfield Republican._ - - -The Porcupine: A Drama in Three Acts - -_Cloth, 12mo, $1.25_ - -Edwin Arlington Robinson's comedy "Van Zorn" proved him to be one of the -most accomplished of the younger generation of American dramatists. Of -this play the _Boston Transcript_ said "It is an effective presentation of -modern life in New York City, in which a poet shows his skill of -playwriting ... he brings to the American drama to-day a thing it sadly -lacks, and that is character." In manner and technique Mr. Robinson's new -play "The Porcupine" recalls some of the work of Ibsen. Written adroitly -and with the literary cleverness exhibited in "Van Zorn" it tells a story -of a domestic entanglement in a dramatic fashion well calculated to hold -the reader's attention. - -"He writes admirable dialogue, and his characters have strong and -consistent individuality. Moreover, he has freshness of invention, and -knows how to unfold an interesting story in dramatic form."--_Nation._ - - -Van Zorn: A Comedy - -_Cloth, 12mo, $1.25_ - -"The setting is American and the characters are true to the American -type.... The second act is drama in its highest expression."--_San -Francisco Chronicle._ - -"He has done something unique. His comedy depicts life among the artists -in Manhattan. It is the first time it has been done by one of the -initiated."--_Brooklyn Daily Eagle._ - -"'Van Zorn,' by Edwin Arlington Robinson, might be called a comedy of -temperament, introspection, and destiny. It tells an interesting story and -is stimulative to thought."--_Providence Journal._ - -"An effective presentation of modern life in New York City, in which a -poet shows his skill at prose playwriting ... he brings into the American -drama to-day a thing it sadly lacks, and that is character."--_Boston -Transcript._ - -"A lively tale told with humor and dramatic force."--_Booknews Monthly._ - -"... the attraction of the play is the manner in which from scene to scene -the interest is piqued, until at last there is a dénouement almost Shavian -in its impudence, that is, in the impudence of the main -characters."--_Kentucky Post._ - - -Captain Craig, A Book of Poems - -_Revised edition with additional poems, 12mo, cloth, $1.25_ - -"There are few poets writing in English to-day whose work is so permeated -by individual charm as is Mr. Robinson's. Always one feels the presence of -a man behind the poet--a man who knows life and people and things and -writes of them clearly, with a subtle poetic insight that is not visible -in the work of any other living writer."--_Brooklyn Daily Eagle._ - -"The 'Book of Annandale,' a splendid poem included in this collection, is -one of the most moving emotional narratives found in modern -poetry."--_Review of Reviews._ - -"... His handling of Greek themes reveals him as a lyrical poet of -inimitable charm and skill."--_Reedy's Mirror._ - -"A poem that must endure; if things that deserve long life get it."--_N. -Y. Evening Sun._ - -"Wherever you hear people who know speak of American poets ... they assume -that you take the genius and place of Edwin Arlington Robinson as -granted.... A man with something to say that has value and beauty. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Merlin - A Poem - -Author: Edwin Arlington Robinson - -Release Date: September 30, 2012 [EBook #40906] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MERLIN *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40906 ***</div> <h1>MERLIN</h1> @@ -2988,7 +2948,7 @@ Transcript.</i></p> <p>“A lively tale told with humor and dramatic force.”—<i>Booknews Monthly.</i></p> <p>“... the attraction of the play is the manner in which from scene to scene -the interest is piqued, until at last there is a dénouement almost Shavian +the interest is piqued, until at last there is a dénouement almost Shavian in its impudence, that is, in the impudence of the main characters.”—<i>Kentucky Post.</i></p> @@ -3024,382 +2984,6 @@ Transcript.</i></p> <p class="center">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br /> Publisher<span class="spacer"> </span>64-66 Fifth Avenue<span class="spacer"> </span>New York</p></div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Merlin, by Edwin Arlington Robinson - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MERLIN *** - -***** This file should be named 40906-h.htm or 40906-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/9/0/40906/ - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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