Add files from /home/DONE/42052.zip.2024-11-15

12 files changed, 15206 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/42052-0.txt b/42052-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..962e83b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/42052-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,2919 @@
+                            THE GOLDEN HELM
+
+
+
+
+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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+
+Title: The Golden Helm
+       and Other Verse
+Author: Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
+Release Date: February 08, 2013 [EBook #42052]
+Language: English
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN HELM ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Cover]
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                              GOLDEN HELM
+                            AND OTHER VERSE
+
+
+                                   BY
+                         WILFRID WILSON GIBSON
+
+
+
+                                 LONDON
+                       ELKIN MATHEWS, VIGO STREET
+                                  1903
+
+
+
+
+                                   TO
+                              HOWARD PEASE
+
+
+
+
+                          _BY THE SAME WRITER_
+
+                   _URLYN THE HARPER AND OTHER SONG_
+                   _THE QUEEN’S VIGIL AND OTHER SONG_
+
+
+
+
+Thanks are due to Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co., for permission to reprint
+"The King’s Death," "The Three Kings," and the first part of "Averlaine
+and Arkeld," from _The Cornhill Magazine_; to the editor of _Macmillan’s
+Magazine_ for leave to reprint "In the Valley"; to the editor of _The
+Saturday Review_ for leave to reprint "Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière";
+and to the editors of _The Pilot, The Outlook, The Pall Mall Gazette,
+Country Life, The Week’s Survey_, and _The Broadsheet_, for like
+courtesy with regard to a number of "The Songs of Queen Averlaine."
+
+
+
+
+                                Contents
+
+The Torch
+The Unknown Knight
+The King’s Death
+The Knight of the Wood
+Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière
+In the Valley
+The Vision: a Christmas Mystery
+The Three Kings
+The Songs of Queen Averlaine
+The Golden Helm
+
+
+
+
+                               The Torch
+
+
+Through skies blown clear by storm, o’er storm-spent seas,
+Day kindled pale with promise of full noon
+Of blue unclouded; no night-weary wind
+Ruffled the slumberous, heaving deeps to white,
+Though round the Farne Isles the waves never sink
+In foamless sleep--about the pillared crags
+For ever circling with unresting spray.
+At dawn’s first glimmer, from his island-cell--
+Rock-hewn, secure from tempest--Oswald came
+With slow and weary step, white-faced and worn
+With night-long vigil for storm-perilled souls.
+His anxious eye with sharp foreboding bright--
+He scanned the treacherous flood; the long froth-trail
+That marks the lurking reefs; the jag-toothed chasms
+Which, foaming, gape at night beneath the keel--
+The mouth of hell to storm-bewildered ships:
+But no scar-stranded vessel met his glance.
+Relieved, he drank the glistering calm of morn,
+With nostril keen and warm lips parted wide;
+While, gradually, the sun-enkindled air
+Quickened his pallid cheek with youthful flame,
+Though lonely years had silvered his dark head,
+And round his eyes had woven shadow-meshes.
+Clearly he caught the ever-clamorous cries
+Of guillemot and puffin from afar,
+Where, canopied by hovering, white wings,
+They crowded naked pinnacles of rock.
+He watched, with eyes of glistening tenderness,
+The brooding eider--Cuthbert’s sacred bird,
+That bears among the isles his saintly name--
+Breast the calm waves; a black, wet-gleaming fin
+Cleft the blue waters with a foaming jag,
+Where, close behind the restless herring-herd,
+With ravening maw of death, the porpoise sped.
+Oswald, light-tranced, dreamed in the sun awhile;
+Till, suddenly, as some old sorrow starts,
+Though years have glided by with soothing lull,
+The gust of ancient longing rent his bliss:
+His narrow isle, as by some darkling spell,
+More narrow shrank; the gulls’ unceasing cries
+Grew still more fretful; and his hermit-life
+A sea-scourged desolation to him seemed.
+The holy tree of peace--which he had dreamt
+Would flourish in the wilderness afresh,
+Upspringing ever in new ecstasy
+Of branching beauty and white blooms of truth,
+Till its star-tangling crest should cleave the sky,
+And angels rustle through its topmost boughs--
+Seemed sapless, rootless.  Through his quivering limbs
+His famine-wasted youth to life upleapt
+With passionate yearning for humanity:
+The stir of towns; the jostling of glad throngs;
+Welcoming faces and warm-clasping hands;
+Yea, even for the lips and eyes of Love
+He hungered with keen pangs of old desire:
+And, if for him these might not be, he craved
+At least the exultation of swift peril--
+The red-foamed riot of delirious strife
+That rears a bloody crest o’er peaceful shires,
+And, slaying, in a swirl of slaughter dies.
+With brow uplifted and strained, pulsing throat,
+And salt-parched lips out-thrust, unto the sun
+He stretched beseeching hands, as though he sought
+To snatch some glittering disaster thence.
+One moment radiant thus; and then once more
+His arms dropped listless, and he slowly shrank
+Within his sea-stained habit, cowering dark
+Amid the azure blaze of sea and sky.
+Then, stirring, with impatient step he moved
+Across the isle to where the rocky shore,
+Forming a little, crag-encircled bay,
+Sloped steeply to the level of the sea;
+But, as he neared the edges of the tide,
+Startled, he paused, as, marvelling, he saw
+A woman on the shelving, wet, black rock,
+Lying, forlorn, among the storm-wrack, white
+And motionless; still wet, her raiment clung
+About her limbs, and with her wet, gold hair
+Green sea-weed tangled.  Oswald on her looked
+Amazed, as one who, in a sea-born trance,
+Discovers the lone spirit of the storm,
+Self-spent at last, and sunk in dreamless slumber
+Within some caverned gloom.  Coldly he watched
+The little waves creep up the glistening rock,
+And, faltering, slide once more into the deep,
+As though they feared to waken her: at length,
+When one, more venturous, about her stole,
+And moved her heavy hair as if with life,
+He shuddered; and a lightning-knowledge struck
+His heart with fear; and in a flash he knew
+That no sea-phantom couched before him lay,
+But some frail fellow-creature, tempest-tost,
+Hung yet in peril on the edge of death,
+Her weak life slipping from the saving grasp
+While he delayed.  He sprang through plashy weed,
+O’er slippery ridges, to the rock whereon
+She lay with upturned face and close-shut eyes--
+One hand across her breast, the other dipped
+Within a shallow pool of emerald water,
+With blue-veined fingers clutching the red fronds
+Of frail sea-weed.  Then Oswald, bending, felt
+Upon his cheek the feeble breath that still
+Fluttered between the pallid, parted lips.
+In trembling haste, he loosed the sodden cords
+That bound her to a spar; and with hot hands
+He chafed her icy limbs, until the glow
+Of life returned.  With fitful quivering
+The white lids opened; and she looked on him
+With dull, unwondering eyes whose deep-sea blue
+The gloom of death’s late passing shadowed yet;
+When suddenly light thrilled them, and bright fear
+Flashed from their depths, and, with a little gasp,
+She strove to rise; but Oswald with quick words
+Calmed her weak terror, and she sank once more,
+Closing her eyes; and, gently lifting her
+Within his arms--her gold hair hanging straight
+And heavy with sea-water, as he plunged
+Knee-deep through pools of crackling bladder-weed--
+He bore her, unresisting, o’er the isle
+Unto the rock-built shelter he had reared,
+Some little way apart from his own cell,
+For storm-stayed fishers or wrecked mariners.
+He laid her on a bed of withered bents,
+And ministered to her with gentle hands
+And ceaseless care; till, wrapped in warm, deep sleep,
+She sank oblivious.  Silently he placed
+His island-fare beside her on the board,
+Lest she should wake in need; then, with hushed step,
+He turned to go; but, ere he reached the door,
+He paused, and looked again towards the bed,
+As though he feared his strange sea-guest might flee
+Like some wild spirit, born of wondering foam,
+That wins from man the shelter of his breast,
+Then, on a night of moon-enchanted tides,
+Leaps with shrill laughter to its native seas,
+Bearing his soul within its glistening arms,
+To drown his peace on earth and hope of heaven
+In cold eternities of lightless deeps.
+But still in dreamless sleep the stranger lay,
+With parted lips and breathing soft and calm;
+About her head unloosed, her hair outshone,
+Among the grey-green bents, like fine, red gold.
+So beautiful she was that Oswald, pierced
+With quivering rapture, dared no longer bide,
+But, with quick fingers, softly raised the latch,
+And stumbled o’er the threshold.  As he went,
+A flock of sea-gulls from the bent-thatched roof
+Rose, querulous, and round him, wheeling, swept,
+With creaking wings and cold, black eyes agleam;
+Yet Oswald saw them not, nor heard their cries;
+Nor saw he, as he paced the eastern crags,
+How, round the Farnes, the dreaming ocean lay
+In broad, unshadowed, sapphire ecstasy,
+That glowed to noon through slow, uncounted hours.
+His early gloom had vanished; time and space
+And earth and sea no longer compassed him;
+One thought alone consumed him--beauty slept
+Within the shelter of his hermitage,
+Upon grey, rustling bents, with golden hair.
+He roamed, unresting, till the copper sun
+Sank in a steel-grey sea, and earth and sky
+Were strewn with shadows--wavering and dim--
+To weave a pathway for the dawning moon,
+That she, from night’s oblivion, might create
+With the cold spell of her enchantments old
+A phantom earth with magical, bright seas,
+A vaster heaven of unrevealed stars.
+Unmoving, on a headland of swart crag
+That jutted gaunt and sharp against the night,
+Stood Oswald, cowled and silent.  Hour by hour
+He gazed across the sea, which nothing shadowed,
+Save where--now dim, now white--a lonely sail
+Hung, restless, o’er a fisher’s barren toil.
+Yet Oswald saw nor sail nor moon nor sea:
+His heart kept vigil by the little house
+Wherein the stranger slumbered; and it seemed
+His life, by some strange power within him stayed,
+Awaited the unlatching of the door.
+
+But now, within the hut, the sleeper dreamt
+Of foaming caverns and o’erwhelming waters;
+Then, shuddering awake, awhile she lay,
+And watched the moonlight, cold and white, which poured
+Through the warm dusk, from the high window-slit;
+When, all at once, the strangeness of the room
+Closed in upon her with bewildering dread.
+She stirred; the bents, beneath her, rustled strange;
+She started in affright, and, swaying, stood
+Within the streaming moonlight, till, at last,
+In memory, once more disaster swept
+Over her life, and left her, desolate,
+Upon bleak crags of alien seas unknown.
+Yet, through the tumult of tempestuous dark,
+Above the echo of despairing cries,
+A calm voice sounded; and beyond the whirl
+Of foaming death, wherein she caught the gleam
+Of well-loved faces drowning in cold seas,
+A living face shone out--a beacon clear:
+Then numbing fear fell from her, and she moved,
+Unlatched the door, and stole into the night.
+One moment, dazzled by the full-moon glare,
+She paused, a shivering form within the wide
+And glittering desolation--lone and frail.
+But Oswald, watchful on the eastern scars,
+Seeing her, forward came with eager pace
+To meet her; and, as he drew swiftly near,
+His cowl fell backward; and she knew again
+The face that calmed the terrors of her dreams.
+Yet, with the knowledge, through her being stole,
+Vague fear more strange, more impotent than the blind
+Unquestioning dread when death had round her stormed;
+No peril of the body could arouse
+Such ecstasy of terror in her soul,
+Which seemed upborne upon the shivering crest
+Of some great wave, just curving, ere it crash
+Upon the crags of time.  Yet, though she feared
+When Oswald paused, uncertain, quick she spake,
+As though she sought to parry doom with words.
+She questioned him--scarce heeding his replies--
+How she had hither come; when, suddenly,
+Sped by her fluttering words, the last, dim cloud
+Rolled from her memory, and she saw revealed
+Within a pitiless glare of naked light
+The utmost horror of her desolation.
+Mute with despair, she stood with parted lips,
+And then cried fiercely: "Hath the sea upcast
+None other on this shore?  Am I, alone,
+Of all my kin who sailed in that doomed ship,
+Flung back to life?"  And as, with piteous glance,
+He answered her: "Ah God, that I, with them,
+Had died!  O traitor cords that held too sure
+My body to the broken spar of life!
+O feeble seas, that fumed in such wild wrath,
+Yet could not quench so frail a thing as I!"
+With passionate step, across the isle she ran,
+And leapt from crag to crag, until she stood
+Upon a dizzy scar that jutted sheer
+Above low-lapping waves.  Then once again
+Her moaning cry was heard among the Isles:
+"O bitter waters, give them back to me!
+You shall not keep them; all your waves of woe
+Cannot withhold from me those dauntless lives
+That were my life.  Surely they cannot rest
+Without me; even from your unfathomed graves
+Surely my love will draw them to my arms!"
+As though in tremulous expectation tranced,
+She yearned, with arms outstretched; as dawn arose
+Exultant from the sea, and with clear rays
+Kindled her wind-tost hair to streaming flame.
+
+Awhile she stood, then, moaning, slowly sank
+Upon the crag; and Oswald came to her
+With words of comfort which unloosed her pent
+And aching woe in swift, tumultuous tears.
+Oswald, in silent anguish, drew apart,
+Gazing, unseeing, o’er the dawning waves;
+Until at last the tempest of her grief,
+In low and fitful sobbing, spent itself;
+When, turning to him, once again she spake,
+And, shuddering, with faltering voice, outpoured
+The tale of her despair: and Oswald heard
+How she, who sat thus strangely by his side,
+Marna, a sea-earl’s daughter, had besought
+Her father, when the old sea-hunger lit
+His eyes--as waves shot through with stormy fight--
+For leave to bear him company but once,
+When, with his sons, he rode the adventurous seas;
+How he had yielded with reluctant love;
+And how, from out the firth of some far strand,
+Their galley rode, beneath a flaming dawn;
+How her young heart had leapt to see the sails
+Unfurled to take the wind, as, one by one,
+Toil-glistening rowers shipped the dripping oars,
+And loosened every sheet before the breeze;
+How, as the ship with timbers all astrain,
+Leapt to mid-sea, through Marna’s body thrilled
+A kindred rapture, and there came to her
+The sheer, delirious joy of them true-born
+To wander with the foam--each creaking cord
+That tugged the quivering mast unto her singing
+Of unknown shores and far, enchanted lands,
+Beyond the blue horizon; how, all day,
+They rode, undaunted, through the spinning surf;
+But, as the sun dipped, in the cold, grey tide,
+The wind, that since the dawn with steady speed
+Had filled the sails, now came in fitful gusts,
+Fierce and yet fiercer, till the sullen waves
+Were lashed to anger, and the waters leapt
+To tussle with the furies of the air;
+And how the ship, in the encounter caught,
+Was tossed on crests of swirling dark, or dropped
+Between o’er-toppling walls of whelming night;
+How in those hours--too dread for thought or speech--
+Her father’s hand had bound her to a spar;
+And, even as--the cord between his teeth--
+He tugged the last knot sure, the vessel crashed
+Upon a cleaving scar; and she but saw
+The strong, pale faces looking upon death,
+Before the fierce, exultant waters closed
+With cold oblivion o’er them; and no more
+She knew, until she waked within the hut,
+To find her world, in one disastrous night,
+In one swift surge of roaring darkness, swept
+From her young feet; her kindred, home and friends,
+And all familiar hopes and joys and fears
+Dropt like a garment from her life, which now
+Stood naked on the edge of some new world
+Of unknown terrors.
+    Oswald heard her tale
+With pitying glance; yet in his eyes arose
+A strange, new light, which as each gust of grief
+Shook out the fluttering words, more brightly burned;
+So that, when Marna ceased, it seemed to her
+That he, in holy contemplation rapt,
+Had heeded not her woe; and from her heart
+Burst out a cry: "Ah God, I am alone!"
+But, stung by her shrill anguish, Oswald waked
+From his bright reverie, and his shining eyes
+Darkened with swift compassion, as he turned
+And, trembling, spake: "Nay, not alone..."
+  Then mute
+He stood--his pale lips clenched--as though within
+There surged a torrent which he dared not loose.
+Marna looked wondering up; but, when her eyes
+Saw the white passion of his face, her soul
+Was tossed once more on crests of unknown fears;
+Yet rapture warred with terror in her heart;
+She trembled, and her breath came short and quick.
+She dared not raise her eyes again to his,
+Till, on her straining ears, his words, once more,
+Fell, slow and cold and clear as water dripping
+Between locked sluice-gates: "Nothing need you fear.
+Beyond the sea of unknown terrors lie
+White havens of an undiscovered peace.
+For even this bleak, scar-embattled coast
+May yield safe harbour to the storm-spent soul.
+Your world has fallen from you that you may
+Enter another world, more beautiful,
+Built ’neath the shadow of the throne of God.
+There shall you find new friends, who yet will seem
+Familiar to your eyes, because their souls
+Have passed through kindred perils and despairs."
+He ceased; and silence, trembling, ’twixt them hung;
+Till Marna, gazing yet across the sea,
+Rent it with words: "Where may I find this peace?"
+And Oswald answered: "In an inland dale
+The Sisters of the Cross await your coming,
+With ever-open gate.  Within seven days,
+My brethren from the mainland will put out,
+Bringing me food; on their return with them
+You may embark.  Till then, this barren rock
+Must be your home."  Exultant light once more
+Leapt, flashing, in the depths of his dark eyes.
+Yet Marna looked not up, but, slowly, spake:
+"Yea, I must go....  But you...."
+  Then in dismay
+She stopped, as though the thought had slipped unknown
+From her full heart; but Oswald caught the words,
+And spake with hard, quick speech, as if to baffle
+Some doubt that strove within him: "On this Isle
+I bide, till God shall kindle my weak soul
+To burn, a beacon o’er His lonely seas."
+Once more he paused; and perilous silence swayed
+Between them, until Oswald, quaking, rose,
+As one who dared no longer rest beneath
+O’er-toppling doom.  Yet, with calm voice, he spake:
+"Even within this wilderness abides
+Such beauty that, in your brief sojourn here,
+Your soul shall starve not; all about you sweeps
+The ever-changing wonder of the sea;
+But if, too full of bitter memories,
+The bright waves darken, you may lift your eyes
+To watch the swooping gull; the flashing tern;
+The stately cormorant and the kittiwake--
+Most beautiful of all the island-birds;
+Or, if your woman’s heart should crave some grace
+More exquisite, see, frail bell-campions blow,
+As foam-flowers on the shallow, sandy turf."
+As thus he spake, a light in Marna’s eyes
+Arose, and sorrow left her for awhile:
+And she with bright glance questioned him, and watched
+The hovering gulls, and plucked the snowy blooms,
+With little cries at each discovered beauty.
+Yet Oswald by her side walked silently,
+And watched, as one struck mute with anguished fear,
+Her eager eyes, and heard her chattering words.
+Then, suddenly, he left her, but returned
+Within the hour, with faltering step, and spake
+With tremulous voice: "We two must part awhile;
+For I must keep lone vigil in my cell
+Six days and nights, with fasting and with prayer;
+Meanwhile, within the little hut for you
+Are food and shelter till the brethren come.
+When I must give you over to their care."
+Marna, with wondering heart, looked up at him;
+But such a wild light flickered in his eyes
+She dared not speak; and, shuddering, he turned,
+And strode back swiftly to the hermitage.
+
+Marna looked after him with yearning gaze,
+As though her heart would have her call him back,
+Yet her lips moved not; motionless, she watched
+Until he passed from sight; then, sinking low
+Among the flowers, she wept, she knew not why.
+
+And, as the door closed on him, Oswald fell
+Prone on the cold, black, vigil-furrowed rock
+That paved his narrow cell; and long he lay
+As in the clutch of some dread waking-trance,
+Nor stirred until the shadows into night
+Were woven.  Then unto his feet he leapt
+With this wild cry: "O God, why hast Thou sent
+This scourge most bitter for my naked soul?
+I feared not storm nor solitude, O God;
+I shrank not from the tempest of Thy wrath;
+Though oft my weak soul wavered, trampled o’er
+By deedless hours, and yearned unto the world,
+Ever afresh Thy love hath bound me fast
+Unto this island of Thy lonely seas;
+And I, who deemed that I at last might reach--
+I who had come through all--Thy golden haven,
+Knew not Thy hand withheld this last despair,
+This scourge most bitter, being most beautiful."
+Then on his knees he sank, and tried to pray
+Before the Virgin’s shrine, where ever burned
+His votive taper with unfailing light.
+But when his lips would breathe the holy name,
+His heart cried: "Marna!  Marna!"  Every pulse
+Throbbed "Marna!"  And his body shook and swayed,
+As though it strove to utter that one word,
+And cry it once unto eternal stars,
+Though it should perish crying.  Through the cell
+The silence murmured: "Marna!"  And without
+A lone gull wailed it to the windy night.
+He lifted his wild eyes, and in the shrine
+He saw the face of Marna, which outburned
+The flickering taper; on the gloom up-surged,
+Foam-white, the face of Marna; till the dark
+Flowed pitiful o’er him, and on the stone
+He sank unconscious.  Night went slowly by,
+And pale dawn stole in silence through his cell;
+And, in the light of morn, the taper died,
+With feeble guttering; yet he never stirred,
+Though noonday waxed and waned.
+  But Marna roamed
+All night beneath the stars.  To her it seemed
+That not until the closing of the door
+Had all hope perished: now death tore, afresh,
+Her father and her brothers from her arms.
+By day and night and under sun and moon
+She roamed unresting--seeing, heeding naught--
+Till weariness o’ercame her, and she slept;
+And, as she slumbered, snowy-plumed peace
+Nestled within her heart; and, when she waked,
+She only yearned for that dim, cloistral calm,
+Embosomed deep in some bough-sheltered vale,
+Whither the boat must bear her.
+    In his cell,
+As night paled slowly to the seventh morn,
+Oswald arose--the fire within his eyes
+Yet more intense, more fierce.  With eager hand
+He clutched the latch, and, flinging wide the door,
+He strode into the dawn.  One moment, dazed,
+As though bewildered by the light, he paused;
+But, when his glance in restless roving fell
+On Marna, standing on the western crag
+Against the setting moon, beneath the dawn,
+His passion surged upon him, and he shook;
+Then, springing madly forth, he, stumbling, ran,
+And, falling at her feet upon the rock,
+His voice rang out in fearful exultation:
+"You shall not go!  I cannot let you go!
+Has not the tumult tossed you to my breast?
+Yea, and not all the storms of all the seas
+Shall drag you from me!  Nay, you shall not go!
+For we will live together on this isle
+Which time has builded in the deeps for us--
+We two together, one in ecstasy,
+Throughout eternity; for time shall fall
+From off us; and the world shall be no more:
+And God, if God should stand between us now..."
+Faltering, he paused; and Marna stood, afraid,
+Quaking before him; but she spake no word.
+Across the waters came the plash of oars;
+But Oswald heard them not, and once more cried:
+"You will not go--thrusting me back to death?
+For now I know the strange, new thing you brought
+For me from out the storm was life--yea, life;
+And I am one arisen from the grave.
+You will not thrust me back and take again
+That which you came through storm to bring to me?
+You will not go?  I cannot let you go!"
+
+He ceased; and now the even plash of oars
+Came clearer.  One dread moment Marna stood
+Swaying; then, stretching forth her arms, she cried:
+"Ah God!  Ah God!  Why hath Thy cold hand set
+This doom upon me?  Must I ever bear
+Death and disaster unto whom I love?
+Oh, is it not enough that, ’neath the wave,
+Because I sought to bear them company,
+My father and my brothers lie in death?
+But this--ah God--that it should come to this!
+Must I bear ever death within my hands?"
+
+She paused one moment, with wild-heaving breast;
+Then, turning unto Oswald, spake again,
+With softer voice: "But you--have you no pity?
+You who are but God’s servant--surely you
+Have pity on my weakness.  From this doom
+Which overhangs me you must set me free.
+You say I brought you life; but in me lies
+For you--the priest of God--a death more deep
+Than all the drowning fathoms of the sea.
+I go, that you may live.  If life indeed
+I brought you, I was but the torch of God
+To kindle the clear flame of your strong soul
+To burn, a beacon o’er His lonely seas."
+She ceased, with arms outstretched and lighted eyes.
+As on some holy vision Oswald gazed
+In rapt, adoring fear; nor spake, nor stirred.
+Near, and yet nearer, drew the plash of oars;
+And, turning in the boat, the brethren looked
+With wondering eyes upon them, whispering: "Lo,
+Some seraph-messenger of God most high
+Tarries with Oswald.  See the strange new peace
+That burns his face like a white altar-flame.
+Not yet must we draw near, lest our weak sight
+Be blinded by that glory of gold hair
+That gleams so strangely in the light of dawn."
+
+
+
+
+                           The Unknown Knight
+
+
+When purple gloomed the wintry ridge
+  Against the sunset’s windy flame,
+From pine-browed hills, along the bridge,
+  An unknown rider came.
+
+I watched him idly from the tower.
+  Though he nor looked nor raised his head;
+I felt my life before him cower
+  In dumb, foreboding dread.
+
+I saw him to the portal win
+  Unchallenged, and no lackey stirred
+To take his bridle when within
+  He strode without a word.
+
+Through all the house he passed unstayed,
+  Until he reached my father’s door;
+The hinge shrieked out like one afraid;
+  Then silence fell once more.
+
+All night I hear the chafing ice
+  Float, griding, down the swollen stream;
+I lie fast-held in terror’s vice,
+  Nor dare to think or dream.
+
+I only know the unknown knight
+  Keeps vigil by my father’s bed:
+Oh, who shall wake to see the light
+  Flame all the east with red?
+
+
+
+
+                            The King’s Death
+
+
+_The sleeping-chamber of the King: a candle burns dimly by the curtained
+bed.  The arras parts, and two slaves enter with daggers.  A storm of
+wind rages without._
+
+FIRST SLAVE: He sleeps.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: He sleeps, whom only death shall rouse
+To dread unsleeping in another world.
+
+FIRST SLAVE: How long the careful night has kept him wakeful,
+As if sleep loathed to snare him for our knives!
+
+SECOND SLAVE: Yea, we have crouched so close in quaking dark
+I scarce can lift my sword-arm: strike you first.
+
+FIRST SLAVE: The heavy waiting hours have crushed my strength;
+The hate that burst to such an eager flame
+Within my heart has smouldered to dull ash,
+Which pity breathes to scatter.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: Knows he pity?
+
+FIRST SLAVE: Nay, he is throned above his slaughtered kin,
+A reeking sword his sceptre.  He has broken,
+As one across the knee a faggot snaps,
+Strong lives to feed the blaze of his ambition;
+Yet shall a slave’s hand strike cold death in him
+For whom kings sweat like slaves?
+
+SECOND SLAVE: Yea, at the stroke
+One slave lies dead--a hundred kings are born;
+For every man that breathes will be a king;
+Vast empires, beaten-dust beneath his feet,
+Will rise again and teem with kingly men,
+When he, their death, is dead
+
+FIRST SLAVE: How still he sleeps!
+The tempest shrieks to wake him, yet he slumbers.
+As seas that foam against unyielding scars,
+The mad wind storms the castle, wall and tower,
+And is not spent.  Hark, it has found a breach--
+Some latch unloosed--the house is full of wind;
+It rushes, wailing, down the corridor;
+It seeks the King; it cries on him to waken;
+Now ’tis without, and shakes the rattling bolt;
+Lo, it has broken in, in little gusts,
+I feel it in my hair; ’twill lay cold fingers
+Upon his lips, and start him from his sleep.
+See, it has whipt the yellow flame to smoke.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: And now it fails; the heavy, hanging gold
+That shelters him from night is all unstirred.
+
+FIRST SLAVE: Even the wind must pause.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: ’Twas but a breeze
+To blow our sinking courage to clear fire.
+Too long we loiter; soon the approaching day
+Will take us, slaves who grasp the arms of men
+Yet dare not plunge them save in our own breasts.
+Come, let us strike!
+
+(_They approach the bed and draw aside the curtain._)
+
+FIRST SLAVE: The King--how still he sleeps!
+Can majesty in such calm slumber lie?
+
+SECOND SLAVE: Come, falter not, strike home!
+
+FIRST SLAVE: Hold, hold your hand,
+For death has stolen a march upon our hate;
+He does not breathe.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: The stars have wrought for us,
+And we are conquerors with unbloodied hands.
+
+FIRST SLAVE: Nay, nay, for in our thoughts his life was spilt;
+While yet our bodies lagged in fettered fear,
+Our shafted breath sped on and stabbed his sleep.
+Oh, red for all the world, across our brows,
+Our murderous thoughts have burned the brand of Cain.
+See, through the window stares the pitiless day!
+
+
+
+
+                         The Knight of the Wood
+
+
+"I fear the Knight of the Wood," she said
+"For him may no man overthrow.
+Where boughs are matted thick o’erhead,
+There gleams, amid the shadows dread,
+The terror of his armour red;
+And all men fear him, high and low;
+Yet all must through the forest go."
+
+She paused awhile where larches flame
+About the borders of the wood;
+Then, crying loud on Love’s high name
+To keep her maiden-heart from shame,
+She entered, and full-swiftly came
+Where, hooded with a scarlet hood,
+A rider in her pathway stood.
+
+She saw the gleam of armour red;
+She saw the fiery pennon wave
+Its flaming terror overhead
+’Mid writhing boughs and shadows dread.
+"Ah God," she cried: "that I were dead,
+And laid for ever in my grave!"
+Then, swooning, called on Love to save.
+
+Among the springing fern she fell,
+And very nigh to death she lay;
+Till, like the fading of a spell
+At ringing of the matin-bell,
+The darkness left her; by a well
+She waked beneath the open day,
+And rose to go upon her way;
+
+When, once again, the ruddy light
+Of arms she saw, and turned to flee;
+But clutching brambles stayed her flight;
+While, marvelling, she saw the Knight
+Unhooded; and his eyes were bright
+With April colours of the sea;
+And crowned as a King was he.
+
+She knelt before him in the ferns,
+And sang: "O Lord of Love, I bow
+Before thy shield, where blazoned burns
+The flaming heart with light that turns
+The night to day.  O heart that yearns
+For love, lo, Love before thee now--
+The wild-wood knight with crownèd brow!"
+
+
+
+
+                    Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière
+
+
+Above Thy halo’s burning blue
+For ever hovers the White Dove;
+Thy heart enshrines, for ever new,
+The Cross--the Crown of all Thy love;
+While, sapphire wing on sapphire wing,
+About Thee choiring angels swing
+Gold censers, and bright candles bear.
+Because I have no heart to sing,
+I come to Thee with all my care,
+_Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière._
+
+Because the sword hath pierced Thy side,
+Thy brows are crowned with circling gold.
+The woe of all the world doth hide
+Within Thy mantle’s azure fold.
+Because Thou, too, hast dwelt with fears,
+Through lingering days and endless years,
+I find no comfort otherwhere,
+Our Lady beautiful with tears,
+Our Lady sorrowfully fair,
+_Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière._
+
+My feet have travelled the hot road
+Between the poppies’ barren fires;
+But now I cast aside the load
+Of burning hopes and wild desires
+That ever fierce and fiercer grew.
+Thy peace falls like a falling dew
+Upon me as I kneel in prayer,
+Because Thou hast known sorrow, too,
+Because Thou, too, hast known despair,
+_Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière._
+
+
+
+
+                             In the Valley
+
+
+Love, take my hand, and look not with sad eyes
+Through the valley-shades: for us, the mountains rise;
+Beneath the cold, blue-cleaving peaks of snow
+Like flame the April-blossomed almonds blow--
+Spring-grace and winter-glory intertwined
+Within the glittering web that colour weaves.
+
+_Yet who are they who troop so close behind_
+_With raiment rustling like frost-withered leaves_
+_That burden winter-winds with ever-restless sighs?_
+
+Love, look not back, nor ever hearken more
+To murmuring shades; for us, the river-shore
+Is lit with dew-hung daffodils that gleam
+On either side the tawny, foaming stream
+That bears through April with triumphal song
+Dissolving winter to the brimming sea.
+
+_Yet who are they who, ever-whispering, throng,_
+_With lean, grey lips that shudder piteously,_
+_As if from some bright fruit of bitter-tasting core?_
+
+Nay, look not back, for, lo, in trancèd light
+Love stays awhile his world-encircling flight
+To wait our coming from the valley-ways;
+See where, a hovering fire amid the blaze,
+He pants aflame with irised plumes unfurled
+Above the utmost pinnacle of noon.
+
+_Yet who are they who wander through the world_
+_Like weary clouds about a wintry moon,_
+_With wan, bewildered brows that bear eternal night?_
+
+Love, look not back, nor fill thy heart with woe
+Of old, sad loves that perished long ago;
+For ever after living lovers tread
+Pale, yearning ghosts of all earth’s lovers dead.
+A little while with life we lead the train
+Ere we, too, follow, cold, some breathing love.
+
+_I fear their fevered eyes and hands that strain_
+_To snatch our joy that flutters bright above,_
+_To shadow with grey death its ruddy, pulsing glow._
+
+Love, look not back in this life-crowning hour
+When all our love breaks into perfect flower
+Beneath the kindling heights of frozen time.
+Come, Love, that we with happy haste may climb
+Beyond the valley, and may chance to see
+Some unknown peak that cleaves unfading skies.
+
+_Old sorrow saps my strength; I may not flee_
+_The flame of passionate hunger in their eyes;_
+_Beseeching shade on shade--they hold me in their power._
+
+Love, look not back, for, all too brief, our day,
+In wilder glories flameth fast away.
+Lo, even now, the northern snow-ridge glows--
+With purple shadowed--from pale gold to rose
+That shivers white beneath stars dawning cold.
+Lift up thine eyes ere all the colour fades.
+
+_Ah, rainbow-plumèd Love in airs of gold,_
+_Too late I turn, a shade among the shades._
+_To follow, death-enthralled, thy flight through ages grey._
+
+
+
+
+                              The Vision.
+
+
+                          A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY.
+
+PERSONS: A YOUNG HERD.  HIS MOTHER.
+SCENE: THE QUEEN’S CRAGS.
+TIME: CHRISTMAS EVE.
+
+_The herd stands at the foot of the Crags, gazing across the dark fells.
+His mother enters._
+
+MOTHER: Son, come home, nor tarry here
+In this peril-haunted place.
+My old heart is filled with fear
+By the white flame of thy face,
+And thine eyes whose restless fire
+Burneth ever wild and clear
+As red peats between the bars.
+Son, come home; the night is cold;
+Dropping from the wintry stars,
+Tingling frost falls through the air;
+See, the bents are white with rime;
+All the sheep are in the fold;
+All the cattle in the byre;
+Only we, of live things, roam
+O’er the fells so far from home;
+E’en the red fox in his lair
+Snuggles close to keep him warm;
+And the lonely, wandering hare
+Crouches, shivering, in her form;
+While by Greenlea’s frozen edge
+Hides the mallard in the sedge.
+Son, come home; the ingle-seat
+Waits thee by the glowing peat,
+And the door is off the latch.
+Come, and we will feast and sing,
+As of old at Christmas time,
+Until thou wilt drowse and nod
+And with slumber-drooping head
+Gladly seek thy bracken-bed
+Underneath the heather-thatch;
+Where the healing sleep will bring
+Unto thee the peace of God.
+Son, come home!  Whom seekest thou there?
+
+HERD: Guenevere!  O Guenevere!
+
+MOTHER: Cry no more on Guenevere.
+Some wild warlock of the fells,
+Born beneath the Devil’s Scars,
+Lures thee forth to drown thy soul
+Deep in Broomlea-water cold.
+Guenevere no longer dwells
+Anywhere beneath the stars;
+Though she walked these Crags of old,
+Many hundred years ago,
+Into earth she sank like snow;
+As a sunset-cloud in rain
+Breaks, and showers the thirsty plain,
+All the glory of her hair
+Fell to earth, we know not where.
+Leave thy foolish quest forlorn.
+Lo, to-night a King is born,
+Who, when earthly kings at last
+Into wildering night are passed,
+Yet shall wear the crown of morn.
+
+Mary, Thou whose love may turn
+Eyes that after evil burn,
+Draw his soul, that strays so far,
+To Thy Son’s white throning-star.
+Queen of Heaven, hear my prayer!
+
+HERD: Guenevere!  O Guenevere!
+
+MOTHER: Low she lies, and may not hear.
+The white lily, Guenevere,
+Ruthless time has trodden down;
+Arthur is a tarnished crown,
+High Gawain a broken spear,
+Percival a riven shield;
+They, who taught the world to yield,
+Closed with death and lost the field,
+Stricken by the last despair:
+Launcelot is but a name
+Blown about the winds of shame;
+Surely God has quenched the flame
+That burned men’s souls for Guenevere.
+
+Mary, heed a mother’s woe;
+Mary, heed a mother’s tears!
+Thou, whose heart so long ago
+Knew the pangs and hopes and fears
+We poor mortal mothers know;
+Thou, to whom, on Christmas-morn,
+Christ, the Son of God, was born;
+Thou whose mother-love hath pressed
+The sweet Babe against thy breast;
+And with wondering joy hath felt
+The warm clutch of little hands,
+When the Kings from far-off lands--
+Crowned with gold, in gold attire--
+With the simple shepherds knelt
+’Mid the beasts within the byre;
+Mary, if Thy heart, afraid,
+When beyond Thy care he strayed,
+Sometimes grieved that he must grow
+Unlike other boys and men--
+Filled with dreams beyond Thy ken,
+Anguished with diviner woe,
+Pangs more fiery than Thy pain,
+Deeper than Thy dark despair--
+From the perils of the night
+Give me back my son again.
+Thou, whose love may never fail,
+Heed a lonely mother’s prayer!
+Come in all Thy healing might!
+
+_A sudden glory sweeps across the Fells.  The vision appears in a cleft
+of the Crags.  The herd and his mother kneel before it._
+
+MOTHER: Mary, Queen of Heaven, hail!
+
+HERD (_falling forward_): Guenevere!  Guenevere!
+
+
+
+
+                            THE THREE KINGS.
+
+
+                              To C. J. S.
+
+
+
+                            The Three Kings
+
+PERSONS: KING GARLAND, KING ARLO, KING ASHALORN.
+
+SEA-VOICES, WAVE-VOICES, AND WIND-VOICES.
+
+SCENE: _A rock in the midst of the North Sea,_
+_whereon the three kings, bound naked by conquering_
+_sea-rovers, have been left to perish._
+
+VOICE OF THE DAWN-WIND: Awaken, O sea, from thy starry dream;
+Awaken, awaken!
+For delight of thy slumber not one pale gleam
+From dim star-clusters remaineth unshaken.
+All night I have haunted the valleys and rivers;
+Now hither I come--
+Ere, quickened with sunlight, the drowsy east quivers--
+To waken thy song, night-bewildered and dumb;
+To stir thy grey waters, of starlight forsaken,
+To loosen white foam in the red of the dawn.
+
+WAVE-VOICES: The sound of thy voice
+Has broken our sleep;
+All night we have waited thee, herald of light.
+We arise, we rejoice
+At thy bidding to leap,
+And spray with our laughter the trail of the night.
+All night we have waited thee, weary of stars--
+The little star-dreams, and the sleep without song;
+The deep-brooding slumber of silence that holds
+Our melody mute in the uttermost deep.
+O Wind of the Dawn, we have waited thee long;
+The sound of thy voice
+Has broken our sleep;
+We arise, we rejoice
+At thy bidding to leap,
+With a tumult of singing, a rapture of spray,
+To scatter our joy in the path of the day.
+
+GARLAND: Day comes at last, beyond the sea’s grey rim;
+The young sun leaps in sudden might of gold.
+
+ASHALORN: Before his fire our lives will smoulder dim;
+Like stars we shine, we fade; the tale is told,
+And all our empty splendour put to scorn;
+Fate leaves us, who were clothed in pride, forlorn,
+To perish, naked, in this lonely sea.
+But yesterday we ruled as kings of earth;
+Frail men to-day; to-morrow, who shall be?
+
+ARLO: But yesterday my cup of life was filled
+To overflowing with the wine of mirth--
+The plashing joy from fruitful years distilled.
+
+GARLAND: But yesterday my kinghood sprang to birth;
+My fingers scarce had grasped the might new-born,
+When from my clutch the glittering pomp was torn.
+
+SEA-VOICES: They slumber, they slumber, the kings in their pride.
+The beak of the Rover is dipt in the tide;
+The sails of the Rover are red in the wind;
+And white is the trail of the foam flung behind.
+They have fallen, have fallen, the kings in their pride;
+Their sea-gates are forced by the rush of the tide;
+Their splendour is scattered as surf on the wind;
+And red is the trail of the terror behind.
+
+Forsaken, forlorn,
+On a rock of the sea,
+In anguish they bow,
+And wait for the night and the darkness to be;
+Oh, bright was the gold in their hair;
+The sea-weed, in scorn,
+Is twined in it now;
+Oh, rich was their raiment and rare,
+Blue, purple, and gold,
+In fold upon fold;
+Of glory and majesty shorn,
+They are clothed with the wind of despair.
+
+GARLAND: Lo, the live waters run to greet the day:
+Even so I laughed to see the soaring light;
+My life was poised like yonder curving wave
+To break in such bright revel of keen spray.
+
+ARLO: I counted not the years that took their flight,
+Gold-crowned and singing; every hour I stood,
+As one enchanted in an April wood,
+In some new paradise of scent and flowers.
+I counted not the countless, careless hours,
+The days of rapture and the nights of peace.
+How should I dream that such delight could pass,
+Such colour fade, such flowing numbers cease,
+My glory perish where was none to save,
+And all my strength be trodden in the grass?
+
+ASHALORN: Oh, blest art thou who diest in thy youth;
+Oh, blest art thou who failest in thy prime;
+While yet thine eyes are full of wondering truth;
+Ere yet thy feet have found the ways of thorn.
+Too long I wandered down the vale of time,
+A lonely wind, all songless and forlorn;
+For I have found the empty heart of things,
+The secret sorrow of the summer rose,
+And all the sadness of the April green;
+I know that every happy stream that springs
+Into a sea of bitter memories flows;
+I know the curse that God has set on kings--
+The solitary splendour and the crown
+Of desolation, and the prisoning state;
+The heart that yearns beneath the robe of gold,
+The soul that starves behind the golden gate.
+I know how chance has reared our earthly thrones
+Upon a shifting wrack of whitened bones,
+Of heroes fallen in the wars of old--
+By wind upbuilded and by wind cast down.
+
+SEA-VOICES: As foam on the edge of the waters of night,
+They flicker and fall;
+More brief than delight,
+More frail than their tears,
+They flicker and fall
+In the tide of the years;
+Awhile they may triumph, as lords of the earth,
+With feasting and mirth,
+Yet the winds and the waters shall sweep over all.
+
+VOICE OF THE WEST WIND: O wide-shifting wonder of sapphire and gold,
+O wandering glory of emerald and white,
+From the purple and green of the moorlands I come,
+To sweep o’er thy waters with turbulent flight,
+To sway thee, and swing thee abroad in my might;
+I lean to thy lips, to their white, curling foam,
+With laughter and kisses, to smite it to spray;
+To thine uttermost deep, unlitten and cold,
+I thrill thee with rapture, then wander away.
+
+I have drunk the red wine of the heather, and swept
+Over moorland and fell, for mile upon mile.
+The little blue loughs were merry, and leapt,
+With a shaking of laughter, in dim, dreaming hollows;
+The little blue loughs were merry, and flung
+Their spray on my wings as above them I swung;
+I laughed to their laughter, and dallied awhile;
+Then left them to sink in the silence that follows.
+
+In the forest I stirred, like the chant of thy tides,
+The song of the boughs and the branches a-swinging;
+The ashes and beeches and oak-trees were singing,
+Like the noise of thy waters when dark tempest rides.
+I swung on the crest of the pine-trees a-swaying,
+As now on thy green, flowing surges, O sea;
+I piped in my triumph, they danced to my playing;
+I left them a-murmur, to hasten to thee.
+
+The white clouds were driven like ships through the air,
+And grey flowed the shadows o’er sea-coloured bent,
+And dark on the heathland, and dark on the wold:
+But here on thy waters, where all things grow fair,
+They shadow with purple thine emerald and gold.
+My revel unbroken, my rapture unspent,
+To thy far-shining wonder, O sea, I have come,
+To sweep o’er thy splendour with turbulent flight;
+To sway thee, and swing thee abroad in my might;
+I lean to thy lips, to their white, curling foam,
+With laughter and kisses, to smite it to spray;
+To thine uttermost deep, unlitten and cold,
+I thrill thee with rapture, then wander away.
+
+GARLAND: There is no sadness in the world but death.
+The years that whitened o’er thy head have taken
+The colour from thy life, but still in me
+The blood beats young and red; yea, still my breath
+Is full of freshness as the wind that blows
+Across the morning-fells when night has shaken
+His cooling dews among the wakening heath.
+Yea, now the wind that lashes o’er the sea
+Stings all my quivering body to keen life
+And whips the blood into my straining limbs;
+And all the youth within me springs to fire;
+I am consumed with ravening desire
+For one brief, wild, delirious hour of strife;
+I yearn for every joy that flies or swims,
+Rides on the wind or with the water flows.
+Yet I must die by patient, slow degrees,
+With hourly wasting flesh and parching blood;
+Ah God, that I might leap into the flood,
+And perish struggling in the adventurous seas!
+
+ARLO: My mouth is filled with saltness, and I thirst
+For forest-pools that bubble in the shade,
+When loud the hot chase pants through every glade,
+And fleeing fawns from every thicket burst;
+Or clear wine vintaged when the world was young,
+Gurgling from deep-mouthed jars of coloured stone.
+
+ASHALORN: The noonday burns my body to the bone,
+And sets a coal of fire upon my tongue,
+Between my lips, and stifles all my breath.
+Oh come, thou only joy undying, death!
+
+WAVE-VOICES: O wind, that failing, failing, failing, dies,
+Beneath the heat of August-laden skies,
+Sinking in sleep, sinking in quiet sleep--
+Thy blue wings folded o’er our dreaming deep
+
+We too are weary, weary in the noon;
+We too will fall in shining slumber soon--
+Foamless and still, foamless and very still,
+Unstirred, unshaken by thy restless will.
+
+Yet there are eyes that cannot, cannot close,
+And strong souls racked by fiery, rending woes--
+Never to rest, never to gather rest
+By any stream of murmuring waters blest.
+
+But slumber falling, falling, on us lies,
+Silent and deep, beneath noon-laden skies,
+Silent and deep, silent and very deep,
+With blue wings folded o’er our dreaming sleep.
+
+                     *      *      *      *      *
+
+VOICE OF THE EVENING WIND: I have shaken the noon
+  from my wings, I arise
+To quicken the flame in the western skies--
+To blow the clouds to a streaming flame,
+Where the red sun sinks in the opal sea,
+And red as the heart of the opal glows
+His last wild gleam in the waters grey.
+O grey-green waters, curling to rose,
+The kings are glad of the dying day;
+The kings are weary; the white mists close--
+The white mists gather to cover their shame.
+
+ASHALORN: The evening mist is dank upon my brow,
+And cold upon my lips--yea, cold as death;
+Yet, through the gloom, she gazes on me now,
+As in our early-wedded days; her breath
+Is warm once more upon my withered cheek.
+O gaunt, grey lips, that strive but may not speak;
+O cold, grey eyes, that flicker in the gloam--
+Long have we strayed; come, let us wander home!
+
+ARLO: Like lit September woodlands, streameth down
+Her hair, beneath the circle of her crown;
+Of rarer, redder glory than the cold
+Dead metal that for ever strives to hold
+The ever-straying wonder of live gold!
+Like woodland pools, her eyes, a dreaming brown--
+Like woodland pools where autumn-splendours drown!
+O red-gold tresses, shaking in the gloam,
+Unto your light, unto your shade I come!
+
+GARLAND: Her eyes are azure as the wind-blown sea,
+With deep sea-shadowings of grey and green;
+And like an April storm her shining hair--
+Yea, all the glittering Aprils that have been,
+And all the wondering Aprils yet to be,
+Have stored their wealth of shower and sunshine there;
+Yea, all the thousand, thousand springs of earth
+New-lit and re-awakened at her birth,
+In her sweet body glow and glimmer fair.
+O wonder of sea-colours and white foam
+And April glories, to thine arms I come!
+
+VOICE OF THE EVENING WIND: The sun is gone,
+  and the last, red flame
+Has faded away in a shimmer of rose--
+A shimmer of rose that shivers to grey.
+The kings are glad of the dying day--
+The kings are weary; the white mists close,
+The white mists gather to cover their shame.
+
+
+
+
+                     THE SONGS OF QUEEN AVERLAINE.
+
+
+                                To M. B.
+
+
+
+PERSONS: THE KING,
+  QUEEN AVERLAINE,
+  THE KNIGHT ARKELD.
+
+
+                                   I.
+                            KING AND QUEEN.
+
+
+                                   1.
+
+The day has come; at last my dream unfolds
+  White, wondering petals with the rising sun.
+No other glade in Love’s world-garden holds
+  So fair a bloom from vanquished winter won.
+
+Long, oh, so long I watched through budding hours,
+  And, trembling, feared my dream would never wake;
+As, one by one, I saw star-tranced flowers
+  Out on the night their dewy splendour shake.
+
+But with the earliest gleam of dawn it stirred,
+  Knowing that Love had put the dark to flight;
+And I must sing more glad than any bird
+  Because the sun has filled my dream with light.
+
+
+                                   2.
+
+Is it high noon, already, in the land?
+O Love, I dreamed that morn could never pass;
+That we might ever wander, hand in hand,
+As children in June-meadows plucking flowers,
+Through ever-waking, fresh-unfolding hours:
+Yet now we sink love-wearied in the grass;
+Yea, it is noon, high noon in all the land.
+
+The young wind slumbers; all the little birds
+That sang about us in the fields of morn
+Are songless now; no happy flight of words
+On Love’s lip hovers--Love has waxed to noon.
+Ah, God, if Love should wane to evening soon
+To perish in a sunless world, forlorn,
+And cease with the last song of weary birds!
+
+
+                                   3.
+
+At dawn I gathered flowers of white,
+To garland them for your delight.
+
+At noon I gathered flowers of blue,
+To weave them into joy for you.
+
+At eve I gather purple flowers,
+To strew above the withered hours.
+
+
+                                   4.
+
+She knelt at eve beside the stream,
+And, sighing, sang: "O waters clear,
+Forsaken now of joy and fear,
+I come to drown a withered dream.
+
+"Unseen of day, I let it fall
+Within the shadow of my hair.
+O little dream, that bloomed so fair,
+The waters hide you after all!"
+
+
+                                   5.
+
+"Is it not dawn?" she cried, and raised her head,
+"Or hath the sun, grey-shrouded, yesternight,
+Gone down with Love for ever to the dead?
+When Love has perished, can there yet be light?"
+
+"Yea, it is dawn," one answered: "see the dew
+Quivers agleam, and all the east is white;
+While in the willow song begins anew."
+"When Love has perished, can there yet be light?"
+
+
+
+                                  II.
+                         AVERLAINE AND ARKELD.
+
+
+                                   1.
+
+ARKELD: Oh, why did you lift your eyes to mine?
+Oh, why did you lift your drooping head?
+
+AVERLAINE: The tangled threads of the fates entwine
+Our hearts that follow as children led.
+
+ARKELD: From the utmost ends of the earth we came,
+As star moves starward through wildering night.
+
+AVERLAINE: Our souls have mingled as flame with flame,
+Yea, they have mingled as light with light.
+
+ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!
+
+ARKELD: The stars in their courses move through the sky
+Unswerving, unheeding, cold and blind.
+
+AVERLAINE: Why did you linger nor pass me by
+Where the cross-roads meet in the ways that wind?
+
+ARKELD: I saw your eyes from the dusk of your hair
+Flame out with sorrow and yearning love.
+
+AVERLAINE: And I, who wandered with grey despair,
+Looking up, saw heaven in blossom above.
+
+ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!
+
+ARKELD: May we not go as we came, alone,
+Unto the ends of the earth anew?
+
+AVERLAINE: May we draw afresh from the rose new-blown
+The golden sunlight, the crystal dew?
+
+ARKELD: Yea, love between us has bloomed as a rose
+Out of the desert under our feet.
+
+AVERLAINE: May we forget how the red heart glows,
+Forget that the dew on the petals is sweet?
+
+ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!
+
+ARKELD: Have the ages brought us together that we
+Might tremble, start at shadows, and cry?
+
+AVERLAINE: Yea, it has been, and ever will be
+Till Sorrow be slain or Love’s self die.
+
+ARKELD: Stronger than Sorrow is Love; and Hate,
+The brother of Love, shall end our Sorrow.
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow is strong with the strength of Fate,
+And, slain, would rise from the grave to-morrow.
+
+ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow for ever between!
+
+
+                                   2.
+
+AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, and tear with ruthless hands
+The golden web wherein, too late, Love strove
+To weave us joy and bind us heart to heart.
+
+ARKELD: Yea, we must part, and strew on desert-sands
+Petal by petal all the rose of Love,
+And part for ever where the cross-ways part.
+
+AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, and never turn our eyes
+From strange horizons, desolate and far,
+Though Love cry ever: "Turn but once, sad heart!"
+
+ARKELD: Yea, we must part, and under alien skies
+Must follow after some cold, gleaming star,
+And roam, as north and south winds roam, apart.
+
+AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, ere Love be grown too strong
+And we too helpless to resist his might;
+While each may go with pure, unshamed heart.
+
+ARKELD: Yea, we must part; and though we do Love wrong,
+He will the more subdue us in our flight,
+And hold us each more surely his, apart.
+
+
+
+                         III. QUEEN AVERLAINE.
+
+
+                                   1.
+
+O love, I bade you go; and you have borne
+The summer with you from the valley-lands;
+The poppy-flame has perished from the corn;
+And in the chill, wan light of early morn
+The reapers come in doleful, starveling bands,
+To bind the blackened sheaves with listless hands;
+For rain has put their sowing-toil to scorn.
+
+O Love, I bade you go; and autumn brings
+Bleak desolation; yet within my heart
+Unquenched and fierce the flame you kindled springs;
+For, echoing all day long, the courtyard rings
+As loud it rang when, rending Love apart,
+Your white horse cantered--swift and keen to start--
+Into a world of other queens and kings.
+
+
+                                   2.
+
+I bade you go; ah, wherefore are you gone?
+How could you leave me dark and desolate,
+O Sun of Love, that for brief summer shone?
+Mine eyes are ever on the western gate,
+Half-wishing, half-foredreading your return.
+Return, O Love, return!
+
+I cannot live without you; through the dark
+I stretch blind hands to you across the world;
+All day on unknown battle-fields I mark
+Your sword’s red course, your banner blue unfurled;
+Yet never, in my day-dreams, you return.
+Return, O Love, return!
+
+Nay, you are gone: O Love, I bade you go.
+I would not have you come again to be
+A stranger in this house of silent woe,
+Where, being all, you would be naught to me.
+Mine, mine in dreams, but lost if you return;
+Oh, nevermore return!
+
+
+                                   3.
+
+"To-day a wandering harper came
+With outland tales of deeds of fame;
+I hearkened from the noonday bright
+Until the failing of the light,
+The while he sang of joust and fight;
+Yet never once I caught your name.
+
+Oh, whither, whither are you gone,
+Whose name victorious ever shone
+Above all knights of other lands?
+Across what wilderness of sands?
+By what dead sea-deserted strands?
+On what far quest of Love forlorn?
+
+I loved you when men called you Lord
+Arkeld, the never-sleeping sword;
+Yet now, when all your might is furled,
+And you no longer crest the world,
+More are you mine than when you hurled
+Destruction on the embattled horde.
+
+
+                                   4.
+
+Oh, deeper in the silent house
+  The silence falls;
+Only the stir of bat or mouse
+  About the walls.
+
+No cry, no voice in any room,
+  No gust of breath;
+As if, within the clutch of doom,
+  We waited death.
+
+
+                                   5.
+
+The King is dead;
+  No longer now
+The cold eyes gleam
+  Beneath his brow.
+
+O cold, grey eyes,
+  Wherein the light
+Of Love at dawn
+  Seemed clear and bright,
+
+No true Love burned
+  Your cold desire,
+Which mirrored but
+  My own heart’s fire.
+
+
+                                   6.
+
+The King died yesterday....  Ah, no, he died
+  When young Love perished long, so long ago;
+And on his throne, as marble at my side,
+  Has reigned a carven image, cold as snow,
+Though all men bowed before it, crying: "King!"
+
+Too late, too late the chains which held me fall;
+  Rock-bound, I bade the victor-knight go by;
+And now, when time has loosed me from the thrall,
+  I know not where he tarries, ’neath what sky
+He waits the winter’s end, the dawn of spring.
+
+
+                                   7.
+
+Spring comes no more for me: though young March blow
+To flame the larches, and from tree to tree
+The green fire leap, till all the woodlands glow--
+Though every runnel, filled to overflow,
+Bear sea-ward, loud and brown with melted snow,
+Spring comes no more for me!
+
+Spring comes no more for me: though April light
+The flame of gorse above the peacock sea;
+Though in an interweaving mesh of white
+The seagulls hover ’neath the cliff’s sheer height;
+Though, hour by hour, new joys are winged for flight,
+Spring comes no more for me!
+
+Spring comes no more for me: though May will shake
+White flame of hawthorn over all the lea,
+Till every thick-set hedge and tangled brake
+Puts on fresh flower of beauty for her sake;
+Though all the world from winter-sleep awake,
+Spring comes no more for me!
+
+
+                                   8.
+
+I wandered through the city till I came
+  Within the vast cathedral, cool and dim;
+I looked upon the windows all aflame
+  With blazoned knights and saints and seraphim.
+
+I looked on kings in purple, gold and blue,
+  On martyrs high before whom all men bow;
+Until a gleam of light my footsteps drew
+  Before a shining seraph, on whose brow
+
+A little flame, for ever pure and white,
+  Unwavering burns--the symbol of our love;
+And as I knelt before him in the night,
+  He looked, compassionate, on me from above.
+
+
+                                   9.
+
+I heard a harper ’neath the castle walls
+Sing, for night-shelter in the house of thralls,
+A song of hapless lovers; in the shade
+I paused awhile, unseen of man or maid.
+
+Taking his harp, he touched the moaning strings,
+And sang of queens unloved and loveless kings;
+His song shot through my fluttering heart like flame
+Till, wondering, I heard him breathe your name.
+
+Oh, then I knew how all the deathless wrong
+Time wrought of old is but a harper’s song;
+And all the hopeless sorrow of long years
+An idle tale to win a stranger’s tears.
+
+Yea, in the song of Love’s immortal dead
+Our love was told; with shuddering heart I fled,
+And strove to pass upon my way unseen,
+But song was hushed with whispers: "Lo, the Queen!"
+
+
+                                  10.
+
+Was it for this we loved, O Time, to be
+Among Love’s deathless through eternity,
+Set high on lone, divided peaks above
+The sheltered summer-valley, broad and green?
+Was it for this our joy and grief have been,
+Our barren day-dreams, dream-deserted nights--
+That valley-lovers, looking up, might see
+How vain is Love among the starry heights,
+And, loving, sigh: "How vain a thing is Love!"?
+
+O Love, that we had found thee in the shade
+Where, all day long, the deep, leaf-hidden glade
+Hears but the moan of some forsaken dove,
+Or the clear song of happy, nameless streams;
+Where, all night long, the August moonlight gleams
+Through warm, green dusk, no longer cold and white!
+O Love, that we had found thee, unafraid,
+One summer morn, and followed thee till night,
+As unknown valley-lovers follow Love!
+
+
+                                  11.
+
+I have grown old, awaiting spring’s return,
+  And, now spring comes, I stand like winter grey
+In a young world; yet warm within me burn
+  The morning-fires Love kindled in youth’s day.
+
+I have grown old; the young folk look on me
+  With sighs, and wonder that I once was fair,
+And whisper one another: "Is this she?
+  Did summer ever light that winter hair?
+
+"Ah, she is old; yet, she, too, once was young:
+  Yea, loved as we love even, for men tell
+How bright her beauty burned on every tongue,
+  And how a knightly stranger loved her well.
+
+"Yet Love grows old that beats so young and warm;
+  His leaping fires in dust and ashes fail;
+Shall we, too, wither in the winter-storm,
+  And wander thus one April, old and frail?"
+
+Love grows not old, O lovers, though youth die,
+  And bodily beauty perish as the flower;
+Though all things fail, though spring and summer fly,
+  Love’s fire burns quenchless till the last dark hour.
+
+
+                                  12.
+
+O valley-lovers, think you love,
+Being all of joy, knows naught of sorrow?
+A day, a night
+Of swift delight
+That fears no dread, grey-dawning morrow?
+
+O valley-lovers, think you love
+Knows only laughter, naught of weeping?
+A rose-red fire
+Of warm desire
+For ever burning, never sleeping?
+
+O lovers, little know ye Love.
+Love is a flame that feeds on sorrow--
+A lone star bright
+Through endless night
+That waits a never-dawning morrow.
+
+
+                                  13.
+
+"Thus would I sing of life,
+Ere I must yield my breath:
+Though broken in the strife,
+I sought not after death.
+Though ruthless years have scourged
+My soul with sorrow’s brands,
+And, day by day, have urged
+My feet o’er desert-sands;
+Yet would I rather tread
+Again the bitter trail,
+Than lie, calm-browed and pale,
+Among the loveless dead.
+
+No pang would I forego,
+No stab of suffering,
+No agony of woe,
+If I to life might cling;
+If I might follow still,
+For evermore, afar,
+O’er barren dale and hill,
+My Love’s unfading star.
+Yea, now, with failing breath,
+Thus would I sing of life:
+Though broken in the strife,
+I sought not after death.
+
+
+                                  14.
+
+Darkness has come upon me in the end;
+Darkness has come upon me like a friend,
+Yet undesired; why comest thou, O night,
+To seal mine eyes for ever from the light?
+
+Darkness has come upon me; yet a star
+Burns through the night and beckons me from far.
+Look up, O eyes, unfaltering, without fear;
+O morning-star of Love, the dawn is near!
+
+
+
+
+                            THE GOLDEN HELM.
+
+
+
+                            The Golden Helm
+
+
+                                   I.
+
+Across his stripling shoulders Geoffrey felt
+The knighting-sword fall lightly, and he heard
+The King’s voice bid him rise; and at the word
+He rose, new-flushed with knighthood, swiftly grown
+To sudden manhood, though, but now, he knelt
+A vigil-wearied squire before the throne.
+He paused one moment while the people turned
+To look on him with eyes that kindled bright,
+Seeing his face aglow with strange, new light;
+Yet them he saw not where they watched amazed,
+And, though like azure flames Queen Hild’s eyes burned,
+Beyond the shadow of the throne he gazed
+To where, in kindred rapture, young Christine
+Stood, tremulous and white, in wind-flower grace--
+Beneath her thick, dark hair, her happy face
+Pale-gleaming ’midst the ruddy maiden-throng;
+But, following Geoffrey’s eyes, the trembling Queen
+Now bade the harpers rouse the air with song:
+From pulsing throat and silver-throbbing string
+The music soared, light-winged, and, fluttering, fell;
+When, startled as one waking from a spell,
+Geoffrey stepped back among the waiting knights;
+While knelt another squire before the King.
+In Queen Hild’s eyes yet hovered stormy lights,
+Beneath her glooming brows, as waters gleam
+Under snow-laden skies; the summer day
+For her in that brief glance had shivered grey,
+Empty of light and song.  She only heard
+The King and knights as people of a dream;
+Yet keenly Geoffrey’s lightest, laughing word
+Stung to the quick, and stabbed her quivering life,
+Till from each shuddering wound the red joy flowed;
+And, though a ruddy fire on each cheek glowed,
+She felt her drainèd heart within her cold;
+Then all at once a hot thought stirred new strife
+Within her breast, and suddenly grown old
+And wise in treacherous imagining,
+She pressed her thin lips to a bitter smile,
+And strove with laughing mask to hide the guile
+That, slowly welling, through her body poured
+Cold-blooded life that feels no arrowy sting
+Of joy or hope, nor thrust of pity’s sword.
+To Christine, where she yet enraptured stood,
+Hild, turning, spake kind words, and coldly praised
+The new-made knight.  Each word Christine amazed
+Drank in with joyous heart and eager ears;
+To her it seemed ne’er lived a Queen so good;
+And love’s swift rapture filled her eyes with tears.
+For her true heart, the day-long pageant moved
+Round Geoffrey’s shining presence; king and knight
+But shone for her with pale, reflected light.
+As trancèd planets circling round the sun,
+About the radiant head of her beloved
+The dim throngs moved until the day was done.
+When lucent gold suffused the cloudless west,
+And lingering thrush-notes failed in drowsy song,
+She left, at last, the weary maiden-throng,
+To stray alone through dew-hung garden-glades;
+And all the love unsealed within her breast
+Flowed out from her to light the darkest shades.
+Her quivering maiden-body could not hold
+The sudden welling of love’s loosened flood;
+Through all her limbs it gushed, and in her blood
+It stormed each throbbing pulse with blissful ache;
+It seemed to spray the utmost glooms with gold,
+And scatter glistening dews in every brake.
+While yet she moved in rapture unafraid
+Among the lilies, down the Grey Nun’s Walk,
+She heard behind the snapping of a stalk,
+And stayed transfixed, nor dared to turn her head,
+But stood a solitary, trembling maid--
+Forlorn and frail, with all her courage fled.
+Thus Geoffrey found her as, hot-foot, he pressed
+To pour about her all the glowing tide
+Day-pent within his heart; the flood-gates wide,
+His love swept over her, sea after sea,
+Until life almost swooned within her breast,
+And she seemed like to drown in ecstasy.
+Yet, as the tempest sank in calm at last,
+She rose from out the foam of love, new-born--
+As Venus from the irised surf of morn--
+To such triumphant beauty, Geoffrey, thralled,
+Before her stood in wonder rooted fast;
+Even his love within him bowed appalled
+In tongueless worship as he gazed on her;
+While, lily-like, the trancèd flowers among,
+She stood, love-radiant, and above her hung
+The canopy of star-enkindling night;
+Though, when again she moved with joyous stir,
+He sprang to her in love’s unchallenged might.
+
+
+                                  II.
+
+All night, beside her slumbering lord, the Queen
+Tossed sleepless--every aching sense astrain
+With tingling wakefulness that racked like pain
+Her weary limbs; all night, in wide-eyed dread,
+She watched the slow hours moving dark between
+The glimmering window and the curtained bed.
+The fitful calling of the owl, all night,
+Struck like the voice of terror on her ears;
+With brushing wings, about her taloned fears
+Fluttered till dawn: when, as the summer gloom,
+Grey-quivering, spilt in silver-showering light,
+She rose and stood within the dawning room,
+Shivering and pale--her long, unbraided hair
+Each moment quickening to a livelier gold
+About her snowy shoulders; yet, more cold
+Than the still gleam of winter-frozen meres,
+Her blue eyes shone with strange, unseeing stare,
+As though they sought to pierce some mist of fears;
+And, when she turned, the old familiar things
+Unknown and alien seemed to her sight--
+Outworn and faded in the morning light
+The rose-embroidered tapestries, and frail
+The painted Love that hung on irised wings
+Above the sleeping King.  Dark-browed and pale
+She looked upon her lord, and fresh despair
+With dreadful calm through all her being stole,
+And froze with icy breath the flickering soul
+That strove within her.  Evil courage steeled
+Her heart once more, as, combing back her hair,
+She watched the waking world of wood and field:
+Hay-harvesters with long scythes flashing white;
+The dewy-browsing deer; the blue smoke-curl
+Above some woodland hut; a kerchiefed girl
+Driving the kine afield with loitering pace.
+But, as a youthful rider came in sight,
+She from the casement turned with darkening face,
+And looked not out again, and fiercely pressed
+Her white teeth in her quivering underlip,
+To stifle the wild cry that strove to slip
+From her strained throat; with clutching hands she sought
+To stay the throbbing tumult of her breast
+That fluttered like a bird in meshes caught.
+
+Christine as yet in dreamless slumber lay
+Within her turret-chamber; but a bird
+Within the laurel singing softly stirred
+Her eyes to wakeful life, and from her bed
+She rose and stood within the light of day,
+White-faced and wondering, with lifted head.
+As April-butterflies, new-winged for flight,
+That poise awhile in quivering amaze,
+Ere they may dare the unknown, glittering ways
+Of perilous airs--upon the brink of morn
+She paused one moment in the showering light,
+In radiant ecstasy of youth forlorn.
+Then swift remembrance flushed her virgin snow,
+And wakened in her eyes the living fire;
+With joyous haste she drew her bright attire
+About her trembling limbs, with eager hands,
+Veiling her maiden beauty’s morning glow,
+Before she looked abroad on meadowlands,
+Where Geoffrey rode at dawn.  Across the blaze
+Of dandelions silvering to seed,
+She saw his white horse swing with easy speed;
+He rode with head exultant in the breeze
+That lifted his brown hair.  With lingering gaze
+She watched him vanish down an aisle of trees;
+Then, swiftly gathering her dark hair in braids
+Above her slender neck, she crossed the floor
+With noiseless step, unlatched the creaking door,
+And stole in trembling silence down the stair,
+Intent to reach the garden ere the maids
+Should come with chattering tongues and laughter there;
+When by her side she heard a rustling stir:
+The arras parted, and before her stood
+Queen Hild in proud, imperious womanhood,
+Looking upon her with cold, smiling eyes.
+In startled wonder Christine glanced at her.
+Then spake the Queen: "Do maids thus early rise
+To tend their household duties, or to feed
+The doves, relinquishing sleep’s precious hours
+To see the morning dew upon the flowers
+And what frail blooms have perished ’neath the moon?
+To reach the Grey Nun’s Walk, mayhap you speed--
+To count the stricken buds of lilies strewn
+O’ernight upon the soil by careless feet
+That wandered there so late?  Yea, now I know,
+Christine, because you flush and tremble so.
+Yet look you not on me with eyes that burn;
+I would not stay you when you go to greet
+The rider of the dawn on his return.
+Think you I leave my bed at break of day--
+I, Hild the Queen--to thwart a lover’s kiss?
+Think you my love of you could stoop to this,
+Though you would wed a fledgling, deedless Knight?
+Nay, shrink you not from me, turn not away;
+Because my heart has never known love’s light,
+I fain would hear your happy tale of love,
+That I may prosper you and your fair youth.
+Will you not trust me?"  Blind with love’s glad truth,
+Christine sank down within Hild’s outstretched arms.
+Speechless, awhile, with sobbing breath she strove;
+Then poured out all the tale of love’s alarms,
+Raptures, despairs, and deathless ecstasies,
+In one quick torrent from her brimming heart;
+Then, quaking, ceased, and drew herself apart,
+Dismayed that she so easily had revealed
+To this white, cold-eyed Queen love’s sanctities.
+Yet Hild moved not, but stood, with hard lips sealed,
+Until, the chiming of the turret-bell
+Recalling her, she spake with far-off voice:
+"I, loveless, in your innocent love rejoice.
+May nothing stem its eager raptured course!
+Oh, that my barren heart could love so well,
+And feel the surge of love’s subduing force!
+Yet even I from out my dearth may give
+To you, Christine.  Would you that Geoffrey’s name
+Shall shine, unchallenged, on the lists of fame?
+If you would have him win for you the crown
+Of knightly immortality, and live
+Triumphant on men’s tongues in high renown,
+Follow me now."  With cold, exulting eyes
+She raised the arras, opening to the light
+An unknown stair-way clambering into night.
+Within the caverned wall she swiftly passed.
+Christine for one brief moment in surprise
+Uncertain paused; then, wondering, followed fast.
+The falling arras shutting out the day,
+She stumbled blindly through the soaring gloom--
+Enclosing dank and chilly as the tomb
+Her panting life; and unto her it seemed
+That ever, as she climbed, more sheer the way
+Before her rose, and ever fainter gleamed
+The wan, white star of light that overhead
+Hovered remote.  Far up the stair she heard
+A silken rustling as, without a word,
+Relentlessly Queen Hild before her sped
+For ever up the ever-soaring steep.
+But when it almost seemed that she must fall--
+So loudly in her ears the pulses beat,
+And each step seemed to sink beneath her feet--
+She heard the shrilly grating of a key,
+And saw, above her, in the unseen wall,
+A dazzling square of day break suddenly.
+Within the lighted doorway Queen Hild turned
+To reach a helping hand, and, as she bent
+To clutch the swooning maiden, well-nigh spent,
+And drew her to the chamber, weak and faint,
+Through her gold hair so rare a lustre burned,
+It seemed to Christine that an aureoled saint
+Leaned out from heaven to snatch her from the deep.
+Then, dizzily, she sank upon the floor,
+Dreaming that toil was over evermore,
+And she secure in Love’s celestial fold;
+Till, waking gradually as from a sleep,
+Her dark eyes opened on a blaze of gold.
+She sat within a chamber hung around
+With glistering tapestry, whereon a knight,
+Who bore a golden helm above the fight,
+For ever triumphed o’er assailing swords,
+Or led the greenwood chase with horse and hound,
+While far behind him lagged the dames and lords
+And all the hunting train; till he, at length,
+Brought low the antlered quarry on the brink
+Of some deep, craggy cleft, wherefrom did shrink
+The quailing hounds with lathered flanks aquake.
+As Christine looked on them, her maiden-strength
+Returned to her; and now, more broad awake,
+She saw, within the centre of the room,
+A golden table whereon glittered bright
+A casket of wrought gold, and, in the light,
+Queen Hild, awaiting her, with smiling lips,
+And laughing words: "Is this then love’s sad doom,
+To perish, fainting, in light’s brief eclipse
+Between a curtain and a closed door?
+Shall this bright casket ever hold, unsought,
+The golden helm--in elfin-ages wrought
+For some star-destined knight--because love’s heart
+Grows faint within her?  Shall the world no more
+Acclaim its helmèd lord?"  But, with a start,
+Christine arose, and swiftly forward came
+With eager eyes, and stooped with fluttering breast--
+Her slender, shapely hands together pressed
+In tense expectancy, and all her face
+With quivering light of wondering love aflame.
+The Queen bent down, and in a breathing space
+Unlocked the casket with a golden key,
+And deftly loosed a little golden pin;
+The heavy lid swung open and, within,
+To Christine’s eyes revealed the golden helm.
+Then spake Queen Hild, once more: "Your love-gift see!
+Think you that any smith in all the realm
+Can beat dull metal to so fair a casque?
+In jewelled caverns of enchantment old
+This helm was wrought of magic-tempered gold
+To yieldless strength, by elfin-hammers chased,
+That toiled unwearied at their age-long task,
+And over it an unknown legend traced
+In letters of some world-forgotten tongue.
+At noon, with careful footing, down the stair
+Unto the hall the casket you must bear,
+When King and knight are gathered round the board,
+And, ere the tales be told or songs be sung,
+Acclaim your love the golden-helmed lord."
+Christine, awhile, in speechless wonderment,
+Hung o’er the glistering helm, and silence fell
+Within the arrased chamber like a spell;
+While softly, on some distant, sunlit roof,
+The basking pigeons cooed with deep content;
+Till, far below, a sudden-clanging hoof
+Startled the morn.  The women’s lifted eyes
+One moment met in kindred ecstasy;
+Then Hild, with hopeless shudder, shaking free,
+With strained voice spake: "Why do you longer wait?
+Your love returns; shall he, in sad surprise,
+Find no glad face to greet him at the gate?"
+
+
+                                  III.
+
+As some new jest was tossed from tongue to tongue,
+Light laughter rippled round the midday board,
+Beneath the bannered rafters: dame and lord
+And maid and squire with merry chattering
+Sat feasting; though no motley humour wrung
+A smile from Hild, where she, beside the King,
+Watched pale and still.  She saw on Geoffrey’s face
+Grave wonder that he caught not anywhere
+Among the maids the dusk of Christine’s hair,
+Or sunlight of her glance.  His eyes, between
+The curtained doorway and her empty place,
+Kept eager, anxious vigil for Christine.
+But when, at last, the lingering meal nigh o’er,
+The waking harp-notes trembled through the hush,
+Like the light, fitful prelude of the thrush
+Ere his full song enchant the domèd elm;
+The arras parting, through the open door
+She came.  Before her borne, the golden helm
+Within the dim-lit hall shone out so bright,
+That lord and dame in rustling wonder rose,
+And squire and maiden sought to gather close,
+With questioning lips, about the love-bright maid.
+Christine, unheeding, turned nor left nor right;
+With lifted head and eager step unstayed,
+She strode to Geoffrey, while he stood alone,
+Radiant with wondering love--as one who sees
+The light of high, eternal mysteries
+Illume awhile the mortal shade that moves
+From out oblivion unto night unknown,
+Hugging a little grace of joys and loves.
+Before him now she came and, kneeling, spake,
+With slow, clear-welling voice: "In ages old
+This helm was wrought from elfin-hammered gold,
+For one who, in the after-days, should be
+Supreme above his kind, as, in the brake
+Of branching fern, the solitary tree
+That crests the fell-top.  Unto you I bring
+The gift of destiny, that, as the sun
+New-risen of your knighthood, newly-won,
+The wondering world may see its glory shine."
+As Christine spake, with questioning glance the King
+Turned to the Queen, who gave no answering sign.
+Then, stretching forth his arm, he cried: "Sir knight,
+I know not by what evil chance this maid
+Has climbed the secret newell-stair unstayed
+And reached the casket-chamber, and has borne
+From thence the Helm of Strife, whereon the light
+Of day has never fallen, night or morn,
+For seven hundred years; but, ere you take
+The doomful gift, know this: he who shall dare
+To don the golden helm must ever fare
+Upon the edge of peril, ever ride
+Between dark-ambushed dangers, ever wake
+Unto the thunderous crash of battle-tide.
+Oh, pause before you take the fateful helm.
+Will you, so young, forego, for evermore,
+The sheltered haven-raptures of the shore,
+To strive in ceaseless tempest, till, at last,
+The fury-crested wave shall overwhelm
+Your broken life on death’s dark crag upcast?"
+He ceased, and stood with eyes of hot appeal;
+An aching silence shuddered through the hall;
+None stirred nor spake, though, swaying like to fall,
+Christine, in mute, imploring agony,
+Wavered nigh death.  As glittering points of steel
+Queen Hild’s eyes gleamed in bitter victory.
+But all were turned to Geoffrey, where he stood
+In pillared might of manhood, very fair;
+His face a little paled beneath his hair,
+Though bright his eyes with all the light of day.
+At length he spake: "For evil or for good,
+I take the Helm of Strife; let come what may."
+
+
+                                  IV.
+
+Dawn shivered coldly through the meadowlands;
+The ever-trembling aspens by the stream
+Quivered with chilly light and fitful gleam;
+Ruffling the heavy foliage of the plane,
+Until the leaves turned, like pale, lifted hands,
+A cold gust stirred with presage of near rain.
+Coldly the light on Geoffrey’s hauberk fell;
+But yet more cold on Christine’s heart there lay
+The winter-clutch of grief, as, far away,
+She saw him ride, and in the stirrup rise
+And, turning, wave to her a last farewell.
+Beyond the ridge he vanished, and her eyes
+Caught the far flashing of the helm of gold
+One moment as it glanced with mocking light;
+Then naught but tossing pine-trees filled her sight.
+Yet darker gloomed the woodlands ’neath the drench
+Of pillared showers; colder and yet more cold
+Her heart had shuddered since the last, hot wrench
+Of parting overnight.  Though still her mouth
+Felt the mute impress of love’s sacred seal;
+Though still through all her senses seemed to steal
+The heavy fume of wound-wort that had hung
+All night about the hedgerows--parched with drouth;
+Though the first notes the missel-cock had sung,
+Ere darkness fled, resounded in her ears;
+Yet no hot tempest of tumultuous woe
+Shook her young body.  As night-fallen snow
+Burdens with numb despair young April’s green,
+Her sorrow lay upon her; hopes and fears
+Within her slept.  As something vaguely seen
+Nor realised--since yesterday’s dread noon
+Had shattered all love’s triumph--life had passed
+About her like a dream by doom o’ercast.
+Long hours she sat, with silent, folded hands,
+And face that glimmered like a winter moon
+In cloudy hair.  Across the rain-grey lands
+She gazed with eyes unseeing; till she heard
+A step within her chamber, and her name
+Fell dully on her ear; then like a flame
+Sharp anguish shot through every aching limb
+With keen remembrance.  Suddenly she stirred,
+And, turning, looked on Hild.  "Grieve you for him..."
+The Queen began; then, with a little gasp,
+Her voice failed, and she shrank before the gaze
+Of Christine’s eyes, and, shrivelled by the blaze
+Of fires her hand had kindled, all her pride
+Fell shredded, and not even the gold clasp
+Of queenhood held, her naked deed to hide.
+She quailed, and, turning, fled from out the room.
+Soon Christine’s wrath was drowned in whelming grief,
+And in the fall of tears she found relief--
+As brooding skies in sweet release of rain.
+All day she wept, until, at length, the gloom
+Of eve laid soothing hands upon her pain.
+Then, once again, she rose, calm-browed, and sped
+Downstairs with silent step, and reached, unstayed,
+The Grey Nun’s Walk, where all alone a maid
+Drank in the rain-cooled air.  With low-breathed words,
+They whispered long together, while, o’erhead,
+From rain-wet branches rang the song of birds.
+The maiden often paused as in alarm;
+Then, with uncertain, half-delaying pace,
+She left Christine, returning in a space
+With Philip, Christine’s brother, a young squire,
+Who strode by her with careless, swinging arm
+And eager face, with keen, blue eyes afire.
+Then all three stood, with whispering heads bent low,
+In eager converse clustered; till, at last,
+They parted, and, with high hopes beating fast,
+Christine unto her turret-room returned--
+Her dark eyes bright and all her face aglow,
+As if some new-lit rapture in her burned.
+About her little chamber swift she moved,
+Until, at length, in travelling array,
+She paused to rest, and all-impatient lay
+Upon her snow-white bed, and watched the light
+Fail from the lilied arras that she loved
+Because her hand had wrought each petal white
+And slender, emerald stem.  The falling night
+Was lit for her with many a memory
+Of little things she could no longer see,
+That had been with her in old, happy hours,
+Before her girlish joys had taken flight
+As morning dews from noon-unfolding flowers.
+For her, with laggard pace the minutes trailed,
+Till night seemed to eternity outdrawn.
+At last, an hour before the summer-dawn,
+She rose and once again, with noiseless tread,
+Crept down the stair, grey-cloaked and closely veiled,
+While every shadow struck her cold with dread
+Lest, drawing back the arras, Hild should stand
+With mocking smile before her; but, unstayed,
+She reached the stair-foot, and, no more afraid,
+She sought a low and shadow-hidden door,
+Slid back the silent bolts with eager hand,
+And stepped into the garden dim once more.
+She quickly crossed a dewy-plashing lawn,
+And, passing through a little wicket-gate,
+She reached the road.  Not long had she to wait
+Ere, with two bridled horses, Philip came.
+Silent they mounted; far they fared ere dawn
+Burnished the castle-weathercock to flame.
+
+
+                                   V.
+
+Northward they climbed from out the valley mist;
+Northward they crossed the sun-enchanted fells;
+Northward they plunged down deep, fern-hidden dells;
+And northward yet--until the sapphire noon
+Had burned and glowed to thunderous amethyst
+Of evening skies about an opal moon;
+Northward they followed fast the loud-tongued fame
+Of young Sir Geoffrey of the golden helm;
+Until it seemed that storm must overwhelm
+Their weary flight.  They sought a lodging-place,
+And soon upon a lonely cell they came
+Wherein a hermit laboured after grace.
+On beds of withered bracken, soft and warm,
+He housed them, and himself, all night, alone,
+Knelt in long vigil on the aching stone,
+Within his little chapel, though, all night,
+His prayers were drowned by thunders of the storm,
+And all about him flashed blue, pulsing light.
+Christine in calm, undreaming slumber lay,
+Nor stirred till, clear and glittering, the morn
+Sang through the forest; though, with roots uptorn,
+The mightiest-limbed and highest-soaring oak
+Had fallen charred, with green leaves shrivelled grey.
+At tinkling of the matin-bell she woke,
+And soon with Philip left the woodland boughs
+For barer uplands.  Over tawny bent
+And purpling heath they rode till day was spent;
+When, down within a broad, green-dusking dale,
+They sought the shelter of the holy house
+Of God’s White Sisters of the Virgin’s Veil.
+So, day by day, they ever northward pressed,
+Until they left the lands of peace behind,
+And rode among the border-hills, where blind
+Insatiate warfare ever rages fierce;
+Where night-winds ever fan a fiery crest,
+And dawn’s light breaks on bright, embattled spears:
+A land whose barren hills are helmed with towers;
+A lone, grey land of battle-wasted shires;
+A land of blackened barns and empty byres;
+A land of rock-bound holds and robber-hordes,
+Of slumberous noons and wakeful midnight hours,
+Of ambushed dark and moonlight flashing swords.
+With hand on hilt and ever-kindling eyes,
+Flushed face and quivering nostril, Philip rode;
+But nought assailed them; every lone abode
+Forsaken seemed; all empty lay the land
+Beneath the empty sky; only the cries
+Of plovers pierced the blue on either hand;
+Until, at sudden cresting of a hill,
+The clang of battle sounded on their ears,
+And, far below, they saw a surge of spears
+Crash on unyielding ranks; while, from the sea
+Of striving steel, with deathly singing shrill,
+A spray of arrows flickered fitfully.
+Amazed they stood, wide-eyed, with holden breath;
+When, of a sudden, flashed upon their sight
+The golden helm in midmost of the fight,
+Where, with high-lifted head and undismayed,
+Sir Geoffrey rode, a very lord of death,
+With ever-leaping, ever-crashing blade.
+Christine watched long, now cold with quaking dread,
+Now hot with hope as each assailant fell;
+The bright sword held her gaze as by a spell;
+Because love blinded her to all but love,
+Unmoved she watched the foemen shudder dead,
+She whose heart erst the meanest woe could move.
+Then, dazed, she saw a solitary shaft,
+Unloosed with certain aim from out the bow,
+Strike clean through Geoffrey’s hauberk, and bring low
+The golden helm, while o’er him swiftly met
+The tides of fight.  Christine a little laughed
+With rattling throat, and stood with still eyes set.
+Scarce Philip dared to raise his eyes to hers
+To see the terror there.  No word she spake,
+But leaned a little forward through the brake
+That bloomed about her in a golden blaze;
+Her hands were torn to bleeding by the furze,
+Yet nothing could disturb that dreadful gaze.
+Then, gradually, the heaving battle swerved
+To northward, faltering broken, and afar
+It closed again, where, round a jutting scar,
+The flashing torrent of the river curved.
+With eager step Christine ran down the hill,
+And sped across the late-forsaken field
+To where, with shattered sword and splintered shield,
+Among the mounded bodies Geoffrey lay.
+She loosed his helm, but deathly pale and still
+His young face gleamed within the light of day.
+Christine beside him knelt, as Philip sought
+A draught of water from the peat-born stream;
+When, in his eyes, at last, a fitful gleam
+Flickered, and bending low, with straining ears,
+The laboured breathing of her name she caught;
+And over his dead face fell fast her tears.
+Once more towards them the tide of battle swept;
+Christine moved not.  Young Philip on her cried,
+And strove, in vain, to draw her safe aside.
+A random shaft in her unshielded breast--
+Though hot to stay its course her brother leapt--
+Struck quivering, and she slowly sank to rest.
+
+
+                                  VI.
+
+Queen Hild sat weaving in her garden-close,
+When on her startled ear there fell the news
+Of Christine’s flight before the darkling dews
+Had thrilled with dawn.  A strand of golden thread
+Slipped from her trembling fingers as she rose
+And hastened to the castle with drooped head.
+All morn she paced within her blinded room,
+Unresting, to and fro, her white hands clenched;
+All morn within her tearless eyes, unquenched,
+Blue fires of anger smouldered, yet no moan
+Escaped her lips.  Without, in summer bloom,
+The garden murmured with bliss-burdened drone
+Of hover-flies and lily-charmed bees;
+Sometimes a finch lit on the window-ledge,
+With shrilly pipe, or, from the rose-hung hedge,
+A blackbird fluted; yet she neither heard
+Nor heeded aught; until, by rich degrees,
+Drowsed into noon the noise of bee and bird.
+Yea, even when, without her chamber, stayed
+A doubtful step, and timid fingers knocked,
+She answered not, but, swiftly striding, locked
+Yet more secure, with angry-clicking key,
+The bolted door, and the affrighted maid
+Unto the waiting hall fled, fearfully.
+Wearied at last, upon her bed Queen Hild
+In fitful slumber sank; but evil dreams
+Of battle-stricken lands and blood-red streams
+Swirled through her brain.  Then, suddenly, she woke,
+Wide-eyed, and sat upright, with body chilled,
+Though in her throat the hot air seemed to choke.
+Swiftly she rose; then, binding her loosed hair,
+She bathed her throbbing brows, and, cold and calm,
+Downstairs she glided, while the evening-psalm
+In maiden-voices quavered, faint and sweet,
+And from the chapel-tower, through quivering air,
+The bell’s clear silver-tinkling clove the heat.
+She strode into the hall where yet the King
+Sat with his knights; a weary minstrel stirred
+Cool, throbbing wood-notes, throated like a bird,
+From his soft-stringèd lute.  With scornful eyes
+Hild looked on them and spake: "Can nothing sting
+Your slumberous hearts from slothful peace to rise?
+Must only stripling-knights and maidens ride
+To battle, where, unceasing, foemen wage
+War on your marches, and your wardens rage
+In impotent despair with desperate swords,
+While you, O King, with sheathèd arms abide?"
+She paused, and, wondering, the King and lords
+Looked on her mutely; then, again, she spake:
+"Shall I, then, and my maidens sally forth
+With battle-brands to conquer the wild north?
+Yea, I will go!  Who follows after me?"
+As by a blow struck suddenly awake,
+The King leapt up, and, like a clamorous sea,
+The knights about him.  Scornfully the Queen
+Looked on them: "So my woman’s words have roused
+The hands that slumbered and the hearts that drowsed.
+Make ready then for battle; ere seven days
+Have passed, the dawn must light your armour’s sheen,
+And in the sun your pennoned lances blaze."
+Her voice ceased; and a pulsing flame of light
+Flashed through the hall; in crashing thunder broke
+The heavy, hanging heat; the rafters woke
+In echo as the rainy torrent poured;
+Bright gleamed the rapid lightning; yet more bright
+The war-lust kindled hot in every lord.
+To clang of armour the seventh morning stirred
+From slumber; restless hoof and champing bit
+Aroused the garth; and day, arising, lit
+A hundred lances, as, each bolt withdrawn,
+The courtyard-gate swung wide with noise far-heard,
+And flickering pennons rode into the dawn--
+Before his knights, the King, and at his side,
+Queen Hild, with ever-northward-gazing eyes;
+But, ere they far had fared, in mute surprise
+They stayed and all drew rein, as down the road
+They saw a little band of warriors ride--
+Sore travel-stained--who bore a heavy load
+Upon a branch-hung litter; while before
+Came Philip, bearing a war-broken lance.
+Though King and lords looked, wondering, in a glance
+Queen Hild had read the sorrow of his face
+And pierced the leaf-hid secret--which e’ermore
+A brand of fire upon her heart would trace.
+Darkness about her swirled, but, with a fierce
+Wild, conquering shudder, shaking herself free,
+Unto the light she clung, though like a sea
+It surged and eddied round her; yet so still
+She sat, none knew her steely eyes could pierce
+The leafy screen.  With guilty terror chill,
+She heard the king speak--sadly riding forth:
+"Whence come you, Philip, battle-stained and slow?
+What burden bear you with such brows of woe?"
+Then Philip answered, mournfully: "I bring
+Two wanderers home from out the perilous north.
+Prepare to gaze on death’s defeat, O King."
+They lowered the litter slowly to the ground;
+Back fell the branches; in the light of day,
+In calm, white sleep Christine and Geoffrey lay,
+And at their feet the baleful Helm of Strife
+Sword-cloven.  Hushed stood all the knights around,
+When spake the King, alighting: "Come, O wife,
+And let us twain, with humble heads low-bowed,
+Even at the feet of love triumphant stand,
+A little while together, hand in hand."
+The Queen obeyed; but, fearfully, she shrank
+Before the eyes of death, and, quaking, cowed,
+With moaning cry, low in the dust she sank.
+
+
+
+                     PRINTED BY R. FOLKARD AND SON,
+            23, DEVONSHIRE STREET, QUEEN SQUARE, BLOOMSBURY.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN HELM ***
+
+
+
+
+A Word from Project Gutenberg
+
+
+We will update this book if we find any errors.
+
+This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42052
+
+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.  Special rules, set forth in the
+General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and
+distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the Project
+Gutenberg™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered
+trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you
+receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of
+this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this
+eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works,
+reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and
+given away – you may do practically _anything_ with public domain
+eBooks.  Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially
+commercial redistribution.
+
+
+
+The Full Project Gutenberg License
+
+
+_Please read this before you distribute or use this work._
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or
+any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
+Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
+http://www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+Section 1. General Terms of Use & Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
+electronic works
+
+
+*1.A.* By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the
+terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all
+copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you
+paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™
+electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this
+agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you
+paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+*1.B.* “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things
+that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even
+without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph
+1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™
+electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help
+preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See
+paragraph 1.E below.
+
+*1.C.* The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
+Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of
+Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in
+the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you
+from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating
+derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project
+Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the
+Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works
+by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms
+of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated
+with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+
+*1.D.* The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg™ work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning the
+copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States.
+
+*1.E.* Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+*1.E.1.* The following sentence, with active links to, or other
+immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear
+prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on
+which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase
+“Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed,
+viewed, copied or distributed:
+
+    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 http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+*1.E.2.* If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with
+the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work,
+you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through
+1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project
+Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+*1.E.3.* If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+*1.E.4.* Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.
+
+*1.E.5.* Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg™ License.
+
+*1.E.6.* You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than
+“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ web site
+(http://www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or
+expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a
+means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original
+“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include
+the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+*1.E.7.* Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless
+you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+*1.E.8.* You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided
+that
+
+  - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+    the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you
+    already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to
+    the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to
+    donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg
+    Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60
+    days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally
+    required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments
+    should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg
+    Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4,
+    “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+    Archive Foundation.”
+
+  - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+    you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+    does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License.
+    You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the
+    works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and
+    all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.
+
+  - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
+    any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+    electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
+    receipt of the work.
+
+  - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+    distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
+
+
+*1.E.9.* If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth
+in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the
+Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the
+owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
+forth in Section 3. below.
+
+*1.F.*
+
+*1.F.1.* Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection.
+Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the
+medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but
+not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription
+errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a
+defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer
+codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
+
+*1.F.2.* LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES – Except for the “Right
+of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability
+to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE
+THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF
+WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.
+YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR
+UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT,
+INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE
+NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.
+
+*1.F.3.* LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND – If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+*1.F.4.* Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS,’ WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+*1.F.5.* Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+*1.F.6.* INDEMNITY – You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™
+
+
+Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals
+and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely
+available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and
+permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn
+more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how
+your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the
+Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org .
+
+
+Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state
+of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue
+Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is
+64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf . Contributions to the
+Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the
+full extent permitted by U.S.  federal laws and your state’s laws.
+
+The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr.
+S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809
+North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official page
+at http://www.pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+
+    Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+    Chief Executive and Director
+    gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation
+
+
+Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without wide spread
+public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the
+number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely
+distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest array of
+equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to
+$5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with
+the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where
+we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
+DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
+visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any
+statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside
+the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways
+including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate,
+please visit: http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic
+works.
+
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg™
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. unless
+a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks
+in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook’s eBook
+number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
+compressed (zipped), HTML and others.
+
+Corrected _editions_ of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
+the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed.
+_Versions_ based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving
+new filenames and etext numbers.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+    http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including
+how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to
+our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/42052-0.zip b/42052-0.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2d82ff6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/42052-0.zip
diff --git a/42052-8.txt b/42052-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aa5d18d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/42052-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,2925 @@
+                            THE GOLDEN HELM
+
+
+
+
+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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+
+Title: The Golden Helm
+       and Other Verse
+Author: Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
+Release Date: February 08, 2013 [EBook #42052]
+Language: English
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN HELM ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Cover]
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                              GOLDEN HELM
+                            AND OTHER VERSE
+
+
+                                   BY
+                         WILFRID WILSON GIBSON
+
+
+
+                                 LONDON
+                       ELKIN MATHEWS, VIGO STREET
+                                  1903
+
+
+
+
+                                   TO
+                              HOWARD PEASE
+
+
+
+
+                          _BY THE SAME WRITER_
+
+                   _URLYN THE HARPER AND OTHER SONG_
+                   _THE QUEEN'S VIGIL AND OTHER SONG_
+
+
+
+
+Thanks are due to Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co., for permission to reprint
+"The King's Death," "The Three Kings," and the first part of "Averlaine
+and Arkeld," from _The Cornhill Magazine_; to the editor of _Macmillan's
+Magazine_ for leave to reprint "In the Valley"; to the editor of _The
+Saturday Review_ for leave to reprint "Notre Dame de la Belle-Verri�re";
+and to the editors of _The Pilot, The Outlook, The Pall Mall Gazette,
+Country Life, The Week's Survey_, and _The Broadsheet_, for like
+courtesy with regard to a number of "The Songs of Queen Averlaine."
+
+
+
+
+                                Contents
+
+The Torch
+The Unknown Knight
+The King's Death
+The Knight of the Wood
+Notre Dame de la Belle-Verri�re
+In the Valley
+The Vision: a Christmas Mystery
+The Three Kings
+The Songs of Queen Averlaine
+The Golden Helm
+
+
+
+
+                               The Torch
+
+
+Through skies blown clear by storm, o'er storm-spent seas,
+Day kindled pale with promise of full noon
+Of blue unclouded; no night-weary wind
+Ruffled the slumberous, heaving deeps to white,
+Though round the Farne Isles the waves never sink
+In foamless sleep--about the pillared crags
+For ever circling with unresting spray.
+At dawn's first glimmer, from his island-cell--
+Rock-hewn, secure from tempest--Oswald came
+With slow and weary step, white-faced and worn
+With night-long vigil for storm-perilled souls.
+His anxious eye with sharp foreboding bright--
+He scanned the treacherous flood; the long froth-trail
+That marks the lurking reefs; the jag-toothed chasms
+Which, foaming, gape at night beneath the keel--
+The mouth of hell to storm-bewildered ships:
+But no scar-stranded vessel met his glance.
+Relieved, he drank the glistering calm of morn,
+With nostril keen and warm lips parted wide;
+While, gradually, the sun-enkindled air
+Quickened his pallid cheek with youthful flame,
+Though lonely years had silvered his dark head,
+And round his eyes had woven shadow-meshes.
+Clearly he caught the ever-clamorous cries
+Of guillemot and puffin from afar,
+Where, canopied by hovering, white wings,
+They crowded naked pinnacles of rock.
+He watched, with eyes of glistening tenderness,
+The brooding eider--Cuthbert's sacred bird,
+That bears among the isles his saintly name--
+Breast the calm waves; a black, wet-gleaming fin
+Cleft the blue waters with a foaming jag,
+Where, close behind the restless herring-herd,
+With ravening maw of death, the porpoise sped.
+Oswald, light-tranced, dreamed in the sun awhile;
+Till, suddenly, as some old sorrow starts,
+Though years have glided by with soothing lull,
+The gust of ancient longing rent his bliss:
+His narrow isle, as by some darkling spell,
+More narrow shrank; the gulls' unceasing cries
+Grew still more fretful; and his hermit-life
+A sea-scourged desolation to him seemed.
+The holy tree of peace--which he had dreamt
+Would flourish in the wilderness afresh,
+Upspringing ever in new ecstasy
+Of branching beauty and white blooms of truth,
+Till its star-tangling crest should cleave the sky,
+And angels rustle through its topmost boughs--
+Seemed sapless, rootless.  Through his quivering limbs
+His famine-wasted youth to life upleapt
+With passionate yearning for humanity:
+The stir of towns; the jostling of glad throngs;
+Welcoming faces and warm-clasping hands;
+Yea, even for the lips and eyes of Love
+He hungered with keen pangs of old desire:
+And, if for him these might not be, he craved
+At least the exultation of swift peril--
+The red-foamed riot of delirious strife
+That rears a bloody crest o'er peaceful shires,
+And, slaying, in a swirl of slaughter dies.
+With brow uplifted and strained, pulsing throat,
+And salt-parched lips out-thrust, unto the sun
+He stretched beseeching hands, as though he sought
+To snatch some glittering disaster thence.
+One moment radiant thus; and then once more
+His arms dropped listless, and he slowly shrank
+Within his sea-stained habit, cowering dark
+Amid the azure blaze of sea and sky.
+Then, stirring, with impatient step he moved
+Across the isle to where the rocky shore,
+Forming a little, crag-encircled bay,
+Sloped steeply to the level of the sea;
+But, as he neared the edges of the tide,
+Startled, he paused, as, marvelling, he saw
+A woman on the shelving, wet, black rock,
+Lying, forlorn, among the storm-wrack, white
+And motionless; still wet, her raiment clung
+About her limbs, and with her wet, gold hair
+Green sea-weed tangled.  Oswald on her looked
+Amazed, as one who, in a sea-born trance,
+Discovers the lone spirit of the storm,
+Self-spent at last, and sunk in dreamless slumber
+Within some caverned gloom.  Coldly he watched
+The little waves creep up the glistening rock,
+And, faltering, slide once more into the deep,
+As though they feared to waken her: at length,
+When one, more venturous, about her stole,
+And moved her heavy hair as if with life,
+He shuddered; and a lightning-knowledge struck
+His heart with fear; and in a flash he knew
+That no sea-phantom couched before him lay,
+But some frail fellow-creature, tempest-tost,
+Hung yet in peril on the edge of death,
+Her weak life slipping from the saving grasp
+While he delayed.  He sprang through plashy weed,
+O'er slippery ridges, to the rock whereon
+She lay with upturned face and close-shut eyes--
+One hand across her breast, the other dipped
+Within a shallow pool of emerald water,
+With blue-veined fingers clutching the red fronds
+Of frail sea-weed.  Then Oswald, bending, felt
+Upon his cheek the feeble breath that still
+Fluttered between the pallid, parted lips.
+In trembling haste, he loosed the sodden cords
+That bound her to a spar; and with hot hands
+He chafed her icy limbs, until the glow
+Of life returned.  With fitful quivering
+The white lids opened; and she looked on him
+With dull, unwondering eyes whose deep-sea blue
+The gloom of death's late passing shadowed yet;
+When suddenly light thrilled them, and bright fear
+Flashed from their depths, and, with a little gasp,
+She strove to rise; but Oswald with quick words
+Calmed her weak terror, and she sank once more,
+Closing her eyes; and, gently lifting her
+Within his arms--her gold hair hanging straight
+And heavy with sea-water, as he plunged
+Knee-deep through pools of crackling bladder-weed--
+He bore her, unresisting, o'er the isle
+Unto the rock-built shelter he had reared,
+Some little way apart from his own cell,
+For storm-stayed fishers or wrecked mariners.
+He laid her on a bed of withered bents,
+And ministered to her with gentle hands
+And ceaseless care; till, wrapped in warm, deep sleep,
+She sank oblivious.  Silently he placed
+His island-fare beside her on the board,
+Lest she should wake in need; then, with hushed step,
+He turned to go; but, ere he reached the door,
+He paused, and looked again towards the bed,
+As though he feared his strange sea-guest might flee
+Like some wild spirit, born of wondering foam,
+That wins from man the shelter of his breast,
+Then, on a night of moon-enchanted tides,
+Leaps with shrill laughter to its native seas,
+Bearing his soul within its glistening arms,
+To drown his peace on earth and hope of heaven
+In cold eternities of lightless deeps.
+But still in dreamless sleep the stranger lay,
+With parted lips and breathing soft and calm;
+About her head unloosed, her hair outshone,
+Among the grey-green bents, like fine, red gold.
+So beautiful she was that Oswald, pierced
+With quivering rapture, dared no longer bide,
+But, with quick fingers, softly raised the latch,
+And stumbled o'er the threshold.  As he went,
+A flock of sea-gulls from the bent-thatched roof
+Rose, querulous, and round him, wheeling, swept,
+With creaking wings and cold, black eyes agleam;
+Yet Oswald saw them not, nor heard their cries;
+Nor saw he, as he paced the eastern crags,
+How, round the Farnes, the dreaming ocean lay
+In broad, unshadowed, sapphire ecstasy,
+That glowed to noon through slow, uncounted hours.
+His early gloom had vanished; time and space
+And earth and sea no longer compassed him;
+One thought alone consumed him--beauty slept
+Within the shelter of his hermitage,
+Upon grey, rustling bents, with golden hair.
+He roamed, unresting, till the copper sun
+Sank in a steel-grey sea, and earth and sky
+Were strewn with shadows--wavering and dim--
+To weave a pathway for the dawning moon,
+That she, from night's oblivion, might create
+With the cold spell of her enchantments old
+A phantom earth with magical, bright seas,
+A vaster heaven of unrevealed stars.
+Unmoving, on a headland of swart crag
+That jutted gaunt and sharp against the night,
+Stood Oswald, cowled and silent.  Hour by hour
+He gazed across the sea, which nothing shadowed,
+Save where--now dim, now white--a lonely sail
+Hung, restless, o'er a fisher's barren toil.
+Yet Oswald saw nor sail nor moon nor sea:
+His heart kept vigil by the little house
+Wherein the stranger slumbered; and it seemed
+His life, by some strange power within him stayed,
+Awaited the unlatching of the door.
+
+But now, within the hut, the sleeper dreamt
+Of foaming caverns and o'erwhelming waters;
+Then, shuddering awake, awhile she lay,
+And watched the moonlight, cold and white, which poured
+Through the warm dusk, from the high window-slit;
+When, all at once, the strangeness of the room
+Closed in upon her with bewildering dread.
+She stirred; the bents, beneath her, rustled strange;
+She started in affright, and, swaying, stood
+Within the streaming moonlight, till, at last,
+In memory, once more disaster swept
+Over her life, and left her, desolate,
+Upon bleak crags of alien seas unknown.
+Yet, through the tumult of tempestuous dark,
+Above the echo of despairing cries,
+A calm voice sounded; and beyond the whirl
+Of foaming death, wherein she caught the gleam
+Of well-loved faces drowning in cold seas,
+A living face shone out--a beacon clear:
+Then numbing fear fell from her, and she moved,
+Unlatched the door, and stole into the night.
+One moment, dazzled by the full-moon glare,
+She paused, a shivering form within the wide
+And glittering desolation--lone and frail.
+But Oswald, watchful on the eastern scars,
+Seeing her, forward came with eager pace
+To meet her; and, as he drew swiftly near,
+His cowl fell backward; and she knew again
+The face that calmed the terrors of her dreams.
+Yet, with the knowledge, through her being stole,
+Vague fear more strange, more impotent than the blind
+Unquestioning dread when death had round her stormed;
+No peril of the body could arouse
+Such ecstasy of terror in her soul,
+Which seemed upborne upon the shivering crest
+Of some great wave, just curving, ere it crash
+Upon the crags of time.  Yet, though she feared
+When Oswald paused, uncertain, quick she spake,
+As though she sought to parry doom with words.
+She questioned him--scarce heeding his replies--
+How she had hither come; when, suddenly,
+Sped by her fluttering words, the last, dim cloud
+Rolled from her memory, and she saw revealed
+Within a pitiless glare of naked light
+The utmost horror of her desolation.
+Mute with despair, she stood with parted lips,
+And then cried fiercely: "Hath the sea upcast
+None other on this shore?  Am I, alone,
+Of all my kin who sailed in that doomed ship,
+Flung back to life?"  And as, with piteous glance,
+He answered her: "Ah God, that I, with them,
+Had died!  O traitor cords that held too sure
+My body to the broken spar of life!
+O feeble seas, that fumed in such wild wrath,
+Yet could not quench so frail a thing as I!"
+With passionate step, across the isle she ran,
+And leapt from crag to crag, until she stood
+Upon a dizzy scar that jutted sheer
+Above low-lapping waves.  Then once again
+Her moaning cry was heard among the Isles:
+"O bitter waters, give them back to me!
+You shall not keep them; all your waves of woe
+Cannot withhold from me those dauntless lives
+That were my life.  Surely they cannot rest
+Without me; even from your unfathomed graves
+Surely my love will draw them to my arms!"
+As though in tremulous expectation tranced,
+She yearned, with arms outstretched; as dawn arose
+Exultant from the sea, and with clear rays
+Kindled her wind-tost hair to streaming flame.
+
+Awhile she stood, then, moaning, slowly sank
+Upon the crag; and Oswald came to her
+With words of comfort which unloosed her pent
+And aching woe in swift, tumultuous tears.
+Oswald, in silent anguish, drew apart,
+Gazing, unseeing, o'er the dawning waves;
+Until at last the tempest of her grief,
+In low and fitful sobbing, spent itself;
+When, turning to him, once again she spake,
+And, shuddering, with faltering voice, outpoured
+The tale of her despair: and Oswald heard
+How she, who sat thus strangely by his side,
+Marna, a sea-earl's daughter, had besought
+Her father, when the old sea-hunger lit
+His eyes--as waves shot through with stormy fight--
+For leave to bear him company but once,
+When, with his sons, he rode the adventurous seas;
+How he had yielded with reluctant love;
+And how, from out the firth of some far strand,
+Their galley rode, beneath a flaming dawn;
+How her young heart had leapt to see the sails
+Unfurled to take the wind, as, one by one,
+Toil-glistening rowers shipped the dripping oars,
+And loosened every sheet before the breeze;
+How, as the ship with timbers all astrain,
+Leapt to mid-sea, through Marna's body thrilled
+A kindred rapture, and there came to her
+The sheer, delirious joy of them true-born
+To wander with the foam--each creaking cord
+That tugged the quivering mast unto her singing
+Of unknown shores and far, enchanted lands,
+Beyond the blue horizon; how, all day,
+They rode, undaunted, through the spinning surf;
+But, as the sun dipped, in the cold, grey tide,
+The wind, that since the dawn with steady speed
+Had filled the sails, now came in fitful gusts,
+Fierce and yet fiercer, till the sullen waves
+Were lashed to anger, and the waters leapt
+To tussle with the furies of the air;
+And how the ship, in the encounter caught,
+Was tossed on crests of swirling dark, or dropped
+Between o'er-toppling walls of whelming night;
+How in those hours--too dread for thought or speech--
+Her father's hand had bound her to a spar;
+And, even as--the cord between his teeth--
+He tugged the last knot sure, the vessel crashed
+Upon a cleaving scar; and she but saw
+The strong, pale faces looking upon death,
+Before the fierce, exultant waters closed
+With cold oblivion o'er them; and no more
+She knew, until she waked within the hut,
+To find her world, in one disastrous night,
+In one swift surge of roaring darkness, swept
+From her young feet; her kindred, home and friends,
+And all familiar hopes and joys and fears
+Dropt like a garment from her life, which now
+Stood naked on the edge of some new world
+Of unknown terrors.
+    Oswald heard her tale
+With pitying glance; yet in his eyes arose
+A strange, new light, which as each gust of grief
+Shook out the fluttering words, more brightly burned;
+So that, when Marna ceased, it seemed to her
+That he, in holy contemplation rapt,
+Had heeded not her woe; and from her heart
+Burst out a cry: "Ah God, I am alone!"
+But, stung by her shrill anguish, Oswald waked
+From his bright reverie, and his shining eyes
+Darkened with swift compassion, as he turned
+And, trembling, spake: "Nay, not alone..."
+  Then mute
+He stood--his pale lips clenched--as though within
+There surged a torrent which he dared not loose.
+Marna looked wondering up; but, when her eyes
+Saw the white passion of his face, her soul
+Was tossed once more on crests of unknown fears;
+Yet rapture warred with terror in her heart;
+She trembled, and her breath came short and quick.
+She dared not raise her eyes again to his,
+Till, on her straining ears, his words, once more,
+Fell, slow and cold and clear as water dripping
+Between locked sluice-gates: "Nothing need you fear.
+Beyond the sea of unknown terrors lie
+White havens of an undiscovered peace.
+For even this bleak, scar-embattled coast
+May yield safe harbour to the storm-spent soul.
+Your world has fallen from you that you may
+Enter another world, more beautiful,
+Built 'neath the shadow of the throne of God.
+There shall you find new friends, who yet will seem
+Familiar to your eyes, because their souls
+Have passed through kindred perils and despairs."
+He ceased; and silence, trembling, 'twixt them hung;
+Till Marna, gazing yet across the sea,
+Rent it with words: "Where may I find this peace?"
+And Oswald answered: "In an inland dale
+The Sisters of the Cross await your coming,
+With ever-open gate.  Within seven days,
+My brethren from the mainland will put out,
+Bringing me food; on their return with them
+You may embark.  Till then, this barren rock
+Must be your home."  Exultant light once more
+Leapt, flashing, in the depths of his dark eyes.
+Yet Marna looked not up, but, slowly, spake:
+"Yea, I must go....  But you...."
+  Then in dismay
+She stopped, as though the thought had slipped unknown
+From her full heart; but Oswald caught the words,
+And spake with hard, quick speech, as if to baffle
+Some doubt that strove within him: "On this Isle
+I bide, till God shall kindle my weak soul
+To burn, a beacon o'er His lonely seas."
+Once more he paused; and perilous silence swayed
+Between them, until Oswald, quaking, rose,
+As one who dared no longer rest beneath
+O'er-toppling doom.  Yet, with calm voice, he spake:
+"Even within this wilderness abides
+Such beauty that, in your brief sojourn here,
+Your soul shall starve not; all about you sweeps
+The ever-changing wonder of the sea;
+But if, too full of bitter memories,
+The bright waves darken, you may lift your eyes
+To watch the swooping gull; the flashing tern;
+The stately cormorant and the kittiwake--
+Most beautiful of all the island-birds;
+Or, if your woman's heart should crave some grace
+More exquisite, see, frail bell-campions blow,
+As foam-flowers on the shallow, sandy turf."
+As thus he spake, a light in Marna's eyes
+Arose, and sorrow left her for awhile:
+And she with bright glance questioned him, and watched
+The hovering gulls, and plucked the snowy blooms,
+With little cries at each discovered beauty.
+Yet Oswald by her side walked silently,
+And watched, as one struck mute with anguished fear,
+Her eager eyes, and heard her chattering words.
+Then, suddenly, he left her, but returned
+Within the hour, with faltering step, and spake
+With tremulous voice: "We two must part awhile;
+For I must keep lone vigil in my cell
+Six days and nights, with fasting and with prayer;
+Meanwhile, within the little hut for you
+Are food and shelter till the brethren come.
+When I must give you over to their care."
+Marna, with wondering heart, looked up at him;
+But such a wild light flickered in his eyes
+She dared not speak; and, shuddering, he turned,
+And strode back swiftly to the hermitage.
+
+Marna looked after him with yearning gaze,
+As though her heart would have her call him back,
+Yet her lips moved not; motionless, she watched
+Until he passed from sight; then, sinking low
+Among the flowers, she wept, she knew not why.
+
+And, as the door closed on him, Oswald fell
+Prone on the cold, black, vigil-furrowed rock
+That paved his narrow cell; and long he lay
+As in the clutch of some dread waking-trance,
+Nor stirred until the shadows into night
+Were woven.  Then unto his feet he leapt
+With this wild cry: "O God, why hast Thou sent
+This scourge most bitter for my naked soul?
+I feared not storm nor solitude, O God;
+I shrank not from the tempest of Thy wrath;
+Though oft my weak soul wavered, trampled o'er
+By deedless hours, and yearned unto the world,
+Ever afresh Thy love hath bound me fast
+Unto this island of Thy lonely seas;
+And I, who deemed that I at last might reach--
+I who had come through all--Thy golden haven,
+Knew not Thy hand withheld this last despair,
+This scourge most bitter, being most beautiful."
+Then on his knees he sank, and tried to pray
+Before the Virgin's shrine, where ever burned
+His votive taper with unfailing light.
+But when his lips would breathe the holy name,
+His heart cried: "Marna!  Marna!"  Every pulse
+Throbbed "Marna!"  And his body shook and swayed,
+As though it strove to utter that one word,
+And cry it once unto eternal stars,
+Though it should perish crying.  Through the cell
+The silence murmured: "Marna!"  And without
+A lone gull wailed it to the windy night.
+He lifted his wild eyes, and in the shrine
+He saw the face of Marna, which outburned
+The flickering taper; on the gloom up-surged,
+Foam-white, the face of Marna; till the dark
+Flowed pitiful o'er him, and on the stone
+He sank unconscious.  Night went slowly by,
+And pale dawn stole in silence through his cell;
+And, in the light of morn, the taper died,
+With feeble guttering; yet he never stirred,
+Though noonday waxed and waned.
+  But Marna roamed
+All night beneath the stars.  To her it seemed
+That not until the closing of the door
+Had all hope perished: now death tore, afresh,
+Her father and her brothers from her arms.
+By day and night and under sun and moon
+She roamed unresting--seeing, heeding naught--
+Till weariness o'ercame her, and she slept;
+And, as she slumbered, snowy-plumed peace
+Nestled within her heart; and, when she waked,
+She only yearned for that dim, cloistral calm,
+Embosomed deep in some bough-sheltered vale,
+Whither the boat must bear her.
+    In his cell,
+As night paled slowly to the seventh morn,
+Oswald arose--the fire within his eyes
+Yet more intense, more fierce.  With eager hand
+He clutched the latch, and, flinging wide the door,
+He strode into the dawn.  One moment, dazed,
+As though bewildered by the light, he paused;
+But, when his glance in restless roving fell
+On Marna, standing on the western crag
+Against the setting moon, beneath the dawn,
+His passion surged upon him, and he shook;
+Then, springing madly forth, he, stumbling, ran,
+And, falling at her feet upon the rock,
+His voice rang out in fearful exultation:
+"You shall not go!  I cannot let you go!
+Has not the tumult tossed you to my breast?
+Yea, and not all the storms of all the seas
+Shall drag you from me!  Nay, you shall not go!
+For we will live together on this isle
+Which time has builded in the deeps for us--
+We two together, one in ecstasy,
+Throughout eternity; for time shall fall
+From off us; and the world shall be no more:
+And God, if God should stand between us now..."
+Faltering, he paused; and Marna stood, afraid,
+Quaking before him; but she spake no word.
+Across the waters came the plash of oars;
+But Oswald heard them not, and once more cried:
+"You will not go--thrusting me back to death?
+For now I know the strange, new thing you brought
+For me from out the storm was life--yea, life;
+And I am one arisen from the grave.
+You will not thrust me back and take again
+That which you came through storm to bring to me?
+You will not go?  I cannot let you go!"
+
+He ceased; and now the even plash of oars
+Came clearer.  One dread moment Marna stood
+Swaying; then, stretching forth her arms, she cried:
+"Ah God!  Ah God!  Why hath Thy cold hand set
+This doom upon me?  Must I ever bear
+Death and disaster unto whom I love?
+Oh, is it not enough that, 'neath the wave,
+Because I sought to bear them company,
+My father and my brothers lie in death?
+But this--ah God--that it should come to this!
+Must I bear ever death within my hands?"
+
+She paused one moment, with wild-heaving breast;
+Then, turning unto Oswald, spake again,
+With softer voice: "But you--have you no pity?
+You who are but God's servant--surely you
+Have pity on my weakness.  From this doom
+Which overhangs me you must set me free.
+You say I brought you life; but in me lies
+For you--the priest of God--a death more deep
+Than all the drowning fathoms of the sea.
+I go, that you may live.  If life indeed
+I brought you, I was but the torch of God
+To kindle the clear flame of your strong soul
+To burn, a beacon o'er His lonely seas."
+She ceased, with arms outstretched and lighted eyes.
+As on some holy vision Oswald gazed
+In rapt, adoring fear; nor spake, nor stirred.
+Near, and yet nearer, drew the plash of oars;
+And, turning in the boat, the brethren looked
+With wondering eyes upon them, whispering: "Lo,
+Some seraph-messenger of God most high
+Tarries with Oswald.  See the strange new peace
+That burns his face like a white altar-flame.
+Not yet must we draw near, lest our weak sight
+Be blinded by that glory of gold hair
+That gleams so strangely in the light of dawn."
+
+
+
+
+                           The Unknown Knight
+
+
+When purple gloomed the wintry ridge
+  Against the sunset's windy flame,
+From pine-browed hills, along the bridge,
+  An unknown rider came.
+
+I watched him idly from the tower.
+  Though he nor looked nor raised his head;
+I felt my life before him cower
+  In dumb, foreboding dread.
+
+I saw him to the portal win
+  Unchallenged, and no lackey stirred
+To take his bridle when within
+  He strode without a word.
+
+Through all the house he passed unstayed,
+  Until he reached my father's door;
+The hinge shrieked out like one afraid;
+  Then silence fell once more.
+
+All night I hear the chafing ice
+  Float, griding, down the swollen stream;
+I lie fast-held in terror's vice,
+  Nor dare to think or dream.
+
+I only know the unknown knight
+  Keeps vigil by my father's bed:
+Oh, who shall wake to see the light
+  Flame all the east with red?
+
+
+
+
+                            The King's Death
+
+
+_The sleeping-chamber of the King: a candle burns dimly by the curtained
+bed.  The arras parts, and two slaves enter with daggers.  A storm of
+wind rages without._
+
+FIRST SLAVE: He sleeps.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: He sleeps, whom only death shall rouse
+To dread unsleeping in another world.
+
+FIRST SLAVE: How long the careful night has kept him wakeful,
+As if sleep loathed to snare him for our knives!
+
+SECOND SLAVE: Yea, we have crouched so close in quaking dark
+I scarce can lift my sword-arm: strike you first.
+
+FIRST SLAVE: The heavy waiting hours have crushed my strength;
+The hate that burst to such an eager flame
+Within my heart has smouldered to dull ash,
+Which pity breathes to scatter.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: Knows he pity?
+
+FIRST SLAVE: Nay, he is throned above his slaughtered kin,
+A reeking sword his sceptre.  He has broken,
+As one across the knee a faggot snaps,
+Strong lives to feed the blaze of his ambition;
+Yet shall a slave's hand strike cold death in him
+For whom kings sweat like slaves?
+
+SECOND SLAVE: Yea, at the stroke
+One slave lies dead--a hundred kings are born;
+For every man that breathes will be a king;
+Vast empires, beaten-dust beneath his feet,
+Will rise again and teem with kingly men,
+When he, their death, is dead
+
+FIRST SLAVE: How still he sleeps!
+The tempest shrieks to wake him, yet he slumbers.
+As seas that foam against unyielding scars,
+The mad wind storms the castle, wall and tower,
+And is not spent.  Hark, it has found a breach--
+Some latch unloosed--the house is full of wind;
+It rushes, wailing, down the corridor;
+It seeks the King; it cries on him to waken;
+Now 'tis without, and shakes the rattling bolt;
+Lo, it has broken in, in little gusts,
+I feel it in my hair; 'twill lay cold fingers
+Upon his lips, and start him from his sleep.
+See, it has whipt the yellow flame to smoke.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: And now it fails; the heavy, hanging gold
+That shelters him from night is all unstirred.
+
+FIRST SLAVE: Even the wind must pause.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: 'Twas but a breeze
+To blow our sinking courage to clear fire.
+Too long we loiter; soon the approaching day
+Will take us, slaves who grasp the arms of men
+Yet dare not plunge them save in our own breasts.
+Come, let us strike!
+
+(_They approach the bed and draw aside the curtain._)
+
+FIRST SLAVE: The King--how still he sleeps!
+Can majesty in such calm slumber lie?
+
+SECOND SLAVE: Come, falter not, strike home!
+
+FIRST SLAVE: Hold, hold your hand,
+For death has stolen a march upon our hate;
+He does not breathe.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: The stars have wrought for us,
+And we are conquerors with unbloodied hands.
+
+FIRST SLAVE: Nay, nay, for in our thoughts his life was spilt;
+While yet our bodies lagged in fettered fear,
+Our shafted breath sped on and stabbed his sleep.
+Oh, red for all the world, across our brows,
+Our murderous thoughts have burned the brand of Cain.
+See, through the window stares the pitiless day!
+
+
+
+
+                         The Knight of the Wood
+
+
+"I fear the Knight of the Wood," she said
+"For him may no man overthrow.
+Where boughs are matted thick o'erhead,
+There gleams, amid the shadows dread,
+The terror of his armour red;
+And all men fear him, high and low;
+Yet all must through the forest go."
+
+She paused awhile where larches flame
+About the borders of the wood;
+Then, crying loud on Love's high name
+To keep her maiden-heart from shame,
+She entered, and full-swiftly came
+Where, hooded with a scarlet hood,
+A rider in her pathway stood.
+
+She saw the gleam of armour red;
+She saw the fiery pennon wave
+Its flaming terror overhead
+'Mid writhing boughs and shadows dread.
+"Ah God," she cried: "that I were dead,
+And laid for ever in my grave!"
+Then, swooning, called on Love to save.
+
+Among the springing fern she fell,
+And very nigh to death she lay;
+Till, like the fading of a spell
+At ringing of the matin-bell,
+The darkness left her; by a well
+She waked beneath the open day,
+And rose to go upon her way;
+
+When, once again, the ruddy light
+Of arms she saw, and turned to flee;
+But clutching brambles stayed her flight;
+While, marvelling, she saw the Knight
+Unhooded; and his eyes were bright
+With April colours of the sea;
+And crowned as a King was he.
+
+She knelt before him in the ferns,
+And sang: "O Lord of Love, I bow
+Before thy shield, where blazoned burns
+The flaming heart with light that turns
+The night to day.  O heart that yearns
+For love, lo, Love before thee now--
+The wild-wood knight with crown�d brow!"
+
+
+
+
+                    Notre Dame de la Belle-Verri�re
+
+
+Above Thy halo's burning blue
+For ever hovers the White Dove;
+Thy heart enshrines, for ever new,
+The Cross--the Crown of all Thy love;
+While, sapphire wing on sapphire wing,
+About Thee choiring angels swing
+Gold censers, and bright candles bear.
+Because I have no heart to sing,
+I come to Thee with all my care,
+_Notre Dame de la Belle-Verri�re._
+
+Because the sword hath pierced Thy side,
+Thy brows are crowned with circling gold.
+The woe of all the world doth hide
+Within Thy mantle's azure fold.
+Because Thou, too, hast dwelt with fears,
+Through lingering days and endless years,
+I find no comfort otherwhere,
+Our Lady beautiful with tears,
+Our Lady sorrowfully fair,
+_Notre Dame de la Belle-Verri�re._
+
+My feet have travelled the hot road
+Between the poppies' barren fires;
+But now I cast aside the load
+Of burning hopes and wild desires
+That ever fierce and fiercer grew.
+Thy peace falls like a falling dew
+Upon me as I kneel in prayer,
+Because Thou hast known sorrow, too,
+Because Thou, too, hast known despair,
+_Notre Dame de la Belle-Verri�re._
+
+
+
+
+                             In the Valley
+
+
+Love, take my hand, and look not with sad eyes
+Through the valley-shades: for us, the mountains rise;
+Beneath the cold, blue-cleaving peaks of snow
+Like flame the April-blossomed almonds blow--
+Spring-grace and winter-glory intertwined
+Within the glittering web that colour weaves.
+
+_Yet who are they who troop so close behind_
+_With raiment rustling like frost-withered leaves_
+_That burden winter-winds with ever-restless sighs?_
+
+Love, look not back, nor ever hearken more
+To murmuring shades; for us, the river-shore
+Is lit with dew-hung daffodils that gleam
+On either side the tawny, foaming stream
+That bears through April with triumphal song
+Dissolving winter to the brimming sea.
+
+_Yet who are they who, ever-whispering, throng,_
+_With lean, grey lips that shudder piteously,_
+_As if from some bright fruit of bitter-tasting core?_
+
+Nay, look not back, for, lo, in tranc�d light
+Love stays awhile his world-encircling flight
+To wait our coming from the valley-ways;
+See where, a hovering fire amid the blaze,
+He pants aflame with irised plumes unfurled
+Above the utmost pinnacle of noon.
+
+_Yet who are they who wander through the world_
+_Like weary clouds about a wintry moon,_
+_With wan, bewildered brows that bear eternal night?_
+
+Love, look not back, nor fill thy heart with woe
+Of old, sad loves that perished long ago;
+For ever after living lovers tread
+Pale, yearning ghosts of all earth's lovers dead.
+A little while with life we lead the train
+Ere we, too, follow, cold, some breathing love.
+
+_I fear their fevered eyes and hands that strain_
+_To snatch our joy that flutters bright above,_
+_To shadow with grey death its ruddy, pulsing glow._
+
+Love, look not back in this life-crowning hour
+When all our love breaks into perfect flower
+Beneath the kindling heights of frozen time.
+Come, Love, that we with happy haste may climb
+Beyond the valley, and may chance to see
+Some unknown peak that cleaves unfading skies.
+
+_Old sorrow saps my strength; I may not flee_
+_The flame of passionate hunger in their eyes;_
+_Beseeching shade on shade--they hold me in their power._
+
+Love, look not back, for, all too brief, our day,
+In wilder glories flameth fast away.
+Lo, even now, the northern snow-ridge glows--
+With purple shadowed--from pale gold to rose
+That shivers white beneath stars dawning cold.
+Lift up thine eyes ere all the colour fades.
+
+_Ah, rainbow-plum�d Love in airs of gold,_
+_Too late I turn, a shade among the shades._
+_To follow, death-enthralled, thy flight through ages grey._
+
+
+
+
+                              The Vision.
+
+
+                          A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY.
+
+PERSONS: A YOUNG HERD.  HIS MOTHER.
+SCENE: THE QUEEN'S CRAGS.
+TIME: CHRISTMAS EVE.
+
+_The herd stands at the foot of the Crags, gazing across the dark fells.
+His mother enters._
+
+MOTHER: Son, come home, nor tarry here
+In this peril-haunted place.
+My old heart is filled with fear
+By the white flame of thy face,
+And thine eyes whose restless fire
+Burneth ever wild and clear
+As red peats between the bars.
+Son, come home; the night is cold;
+Dropping from the wintry stars,
+Tingling frost falls through the air;
+See, the bents are white with rime;
+All the sheep are in the fold;
+All the cattle in the byre;
+Only we, of live things, roam
+O'er the fells so far from home;
+E'en the red fox in his lair
+Snuggles close to keep him warm;
+And the lonely, wandering hare
+Crouches, shivering, in her form;
+While by Greenlea's frozen edge
+Hides the mallard in the sedge.
+Son, come home; the ingle-seat
+Waits thee by the glowing peat,
+And the door is off the latch.
+Come, and we will feast and sing,
+As of old at Christmas time,
+Until thou wilt drowse and nod
+And with slumber-drooping head
+Gladly seek thy bracken-bed
+Underneath the heather-thatch;
+Where the healing sleep will bring
+Unto thee the peace of God.
+Son, come home!  Whom seekest thou there?
+
+HERD: Guenevere!  O Guenevere!
+
+MOTHER: Cry no more on Guenevere.
+Some wild warlock of the fells,
+Born beneath the Devil's Scars,
+Lures thee forth to drown thy soul
+Deep in Broomlea-water cold.
+Guenevere no longer dwells
+Anywhere beneath the stars;
+Though she walked these Crags of old,
+Many hundred years ago,
+Into earth she sank like snow;
+As a sunset-cloud in rain
+Breaks, and showers the thirsty plain,
+All the glory of her hair
+Fell to earth, we know not where.
+Leave thy foolish quest forlorn.
+Lo, to-night a King is born,
+Who, when earthly kings at last
+Into wildering night are passed,
+Yet shall wear the crown of morn.
+
+Mary, Thou whose love may turn
+Eyes that after evil burn,
+Draw his soul, that strays so far,
+To Thy Son's white throning-star.
+Queen of Heaven, hear my prayer!
+
+HERD: Guenevere!  O Guenevere!
+
+MOTHER: Low she lies, and may not hear.
+The white lily, Guenevere,
+Ruthless time has trodden down;
+Arthur is a tarnished crown,
+High Gawain a broken spear,
+Percival a riven shield;
+They, who taught the world to yield,
+Closed with death and lost the field,
+Stricken by the last despair:
+Launcelot is but a name
+Blown about the winds of shame;
+Surely God has quenched the flame
+That burned men's souls for Guenevere.
+
+Mary, heed a mother's woe;
+Mary, heed a mother's tears!
+Thou, whose heart so long ago
+Knew the pangs and hopes and fears
+We poor mortal mothers know;
+Thou, to whom, on Christmas-morn,
+Christ, the Son of God, was born;
+Thou whose mother-love hath pressed
+The sweet Babe against thy breast;
+And with wondering joy hath felt
+The warm clutch of little hands,
+When the Kings from far-off lands--
+Crowned with gold, in gold attire--
+With the simple shepherds knelt
+'Mid the beasts within the byre;
+Mary, if Thy heart, afraid,
+When beyond Thy care he strayed,
+Sometimes grieved that he must grow
+Unlike other boys and men--
+Filled with dreams beyond Thy ken,
+Anguished with diviner woe,
+Pangs more fiery than Thy pain,
+Deeper than Thy dark despair--
+From the perils of the night
+Give me back my son again.
+Thou, whose love may never fail,
+Heed a lonely mother's prayer!
+Come in all Thy healing might!
+
+_A sudden glory sweeps across the Fells.  The vision appears in a cleft
+of the Crags.  The herd and his mother kneel before it._
+
+MOTHER: Mary, Queen of Heaven, hail!
+
+HERD (_falling forward_): Guenevere!  Guenevere!
+
+
+
+
+                            THE THREE KINGS.
+
+
+                              To C. J. S.
+
+
+
+                            The Three Kings
+
+PERSONS: KING GARLAND, KING ARLO, KING ASHALORN.
+
+SEA-VOICES, WAVE-VOICES, AND WIND-VOICES.
+
+SCENE: _A rock in the midst of the North Sea,_
+_whereon the three kings, bound naked by conquering_
+_sea-rovers, have been left to perish._
+
+VOICE OF THE DAWN-WIND: Awaken, O sea, from thy starry dream;
+Awaken, awaken!
+For delight of thy slumber not one pale gleam
+From dim star-clusters remaineth unshaken.
+All night I have haunted the valleys and rivers;
+Now hither I come--
+Ere, quickened with sunlight, the drowsy east quivers--
+To waken thy song, night-bewildered and dumb;
+To stir thy grey waters, of starlight forsaken,
+To loosen white foam in the red of the dawn.
+
+WAVE-VOICES: The sound of thy voice
+Has broken our sleep;
+All night we have waited thee, herald of light.
+We arise, we rejoice
+At thy bidding to leap,
+And spray with our laughter the trail of the night.
+All night we have waited thee, weary of stars--
+The little star-dreams, and the sleep without song;
+The deep-brooding slumber of silence that holds
+Our melody mute in the uttermost deep.
+O Wind of the Dawn, we have waited thee long;
+The sound of thy voice
+Has broken our sleep;
+We arise, we rejoice
+At thy bidding to leap,
+With a tumult of singing, a rapture of spray,
+To scatter our joy in the path of the day.
+
+GARLAND: Day comes at last, beyond the sea's grey rim;
+The young sun leaps in sudden might of gold.
+
+ASHALORN: Before his fire our lives will smoulder dim;
+Like stars we shine, we fade; the tale is told,
+And all our empty splendour put to scorn;
+Fate leaves us, who were clothed in pride, forlorn,
+To perish, naked, in this lonely sea.
+But yesterday we ruled as kings of earth;
+Frail men to-day; to-morrow, who shall be?
+
+ARLO: But yesterday my cup of life was filled
+To overflowing with the wine of mirth--
+The plashing joy from fruitful years distilled.
+
+GARLAND: But yesterday my kinghood sprang to birth;
+My fingers scarce had grasped the might new-born,
+When from my clutch the glittering pomp was torn.
+
+SEA-VOICES: They slumber, they slumber, the kings in their pride.
+The beak of the Rover is dipt in the tide;
+The sails of the Rover are red in the wind;
+And white is the trail of the foam flung behind.
+They have fallen, have fallen, the kings in their pride;
+Their sea-gates are forced by the rush of the tide;
+Their splendour is scattered as surf on the wind;
+And red is the trail of the terror behind.
+
+Forsaken, forlorn,
+On a rock of the sea,
+In anguish they bow,
+And wait for the night and the darkness to be;
+Oh, bright was the gold in their hair;
+The sea-weed, in scorn,
+Is twined in it now;
+Oh, rich was their raiment and rare,
+Blue, purple, and gold,
+In fold upon fold;
+Of glory and majesty shorn,
+They are clothed with the wind of despair.
+
+GARLAND: Lo, the live waters run to greet the day:
+Even so I laughed to see the soaring light;
+My life was poised like yonder curving wave
+To break in such bright revel of keen spray.
+
+ARLO: I counted not the years that took their flight,
+Gold-crowned and singing; every hour I stood,
+As one enchanted in an April wood,
+In some new paradise of scent and flowers.
+I counted not the countless, careless hours,
+The days of rapture and the nights of peace.
+How should I dream that such delight could pass,
+Such colour fade, such flowing numbers cease,
+My glory perish where was none to save,
+And all my strength be trodden in the grass?
+
+ASHALORN: Oh, blest art thou who diest in thy youth;
+Oh, blest art thou who failest in thy prime;
+While yet thine eyes are full of wondering truth;
+Ere yet thy feet have found the ways of thorn.
+Too long I wandered down the vale of time,
+A lonely wind, all songless and forlorn;
+For I have found the empty heart of things,
+The secret sorrow of the summer rose,
+And all the sadness of the April green;
+I know that every happy stream that springs
+Into a sea of bitter memories flows;
+I know the curse that God has set on kings--
+The solitary splendour and the crown
+Of desolation, and the prisoning state;
+The heart that yearns beneath the robe of gold,
+The soul that starves behind the golden gate.
+I know how chance has reared our earthly thrones
+Upon a shifting wrack of whitened bones,
+Of heroes fallen in the wars of old--
+By wind upbuilded and by wind cast down.
+
+SEA-VOICES: As foam on the edge of the waters of night,
+They flicker and fall;
+More brief than delight,
+More frail than their tears,
+They flicker and fall
+In the tide of the years;
+Awhile they may triumph, as lords of the earth,
+With feasting and mirth,
+Yet the winds and the waters shall sweep over all.
+
+VOICE OF THE WEST WIND: O wide-shifting wonder of sapphire and gold,
+O wandering glory of emerald and white,
+From the purple and green of the moorlands I come,
+To sweep o'er thy waters with turbulent flight,
+To sway thee, and swing thee abroad in my might;
+I lean to thy lips, to their white, curling foam,
+With laughter and kisses, to smite it to spray;
+To thine uttermost deep, unlitten and cold,
+I thrill thee with rapture, then wander away.
+
+I have drunk the red wine of the heather, and swept
+Over moorland and fell, for mile upon mile.
+The little blue loughs were merry, and leapt,
+With a shaking of laughter, in dim, dreaming hollows;
+The little blue loughs were merry, and flung
+Their spray on my wings as above them I swung;
+I laughed to their laughter, and dallied awhile;
+Then left them to sink in the silence that follows.
+
+In the forest I stirred, like the chant of thy tides,
+The song of the boughs and the branches a-swinging;
+The ashes and beeches and oak-trees were singing,
+Like the noise of thy waters when dark tempest rides.
+I swung on the crest of the pine-trees a-swaying,
+As now on thy green, flowing surges, O sea;
+I piped in my triumph, they danced to my playing;
+I left them a-murmur, to hasten to thee.
+
+The white clouds were driven like ships through the air,
+And grey flowed the shadows o'er sea-coloured bent,
+And dark on the heathland, and dark on the wold:
+But here on thy waters, where all things grow fair,
+They shadow with purple thine emerald and gold.
+My revel unbroken, my rapture unspent,
+To thy far-shining wonder, O sea, I have come,
+To sweep o'er thy splendour with turbulent flight;
+To sway thee, and swing thee abroad in my might;
+I lean to thy lips, to their white, curling foam,
+With laughter and kisses, to smite it to spray;
+To thine uttermost deep, unlitten and cold,
+I thrill thee with rapture, then wander away.
+
+GARLAND: There is no sadness in the world but death.
+The years that whitened o'er thy head have taken
+The colour from thy life, but still in me
+The blood beats young and red; yea, still my breath
+Is full of freshness as the wind that blows
+Across the morning-fells when night has shaken
+His cooling dews among the wakening heath.
+Yea, now the wind that lashes o'er the sea
+Stings all my quivering body to keen life
+And whips the blood into my straining limbs;
+And all the youth within me springs to fire;
+I am consumed with ravening desire
+For one brief, wild, delirious hour of strife;
+I yearn for every joy that flies or swims,
+Rides on the wind or with the water flows.
+Yet I must die by patient, slow degrees,
+With hourly wasting flesh and parching blood;
+Ah God, that I might leap into the flood,
+And perish struggling in the adventurous seas!
+
+ARLO: My mouth is filled with saltness, and I thirst
+For forest-pools that bubble in the shade,
+When loud the hot chase pants through every glade,
+And fleeing fawns from every thicket burst;
+Or clear wine vintaged when the world was young,
+Gurgling from deep-mouthed jars of coloured stone.
+
+ASHALORN: The noonday burns my body to the bone,
+And sets a coal of fire upon my tongue,
+Between my lips, and stifles all my breath.
+Oh come, thou only joy undying, death!
+
+WAVE-VOICES: O wind, that failing, failing, failing, dies,
+Beneath the heat of August-laden skies,
+Sinking in sleep, sinking in quiet sleep--
+Thy blue wings folded o'er our dreaming deep
+
+We too are weary, weary in the noon;
+We too will fall in shining slumber soon--
+Foamless and still, foamless and very still,
+Unstirred, unshaken by thy restless will.
+
+Yet there are eyes that cannot, cannot close,
+And strong souls racked by fiery, rending woes--
+Never to rest, never to gather rest
+By any stream of murmuring waters blest.
+
+But slumber falling, falling, on us lies,
+Silent and deep, beneath noon-laden skies,
+Silent and deep, silent and very deep,
+With blue wings folded o'er our dreaming sleep.
+
+                     *      *      *      *      *
+
+VOICE OF THE EVENING WIND: I have shaken the noon
+  from my wings, I arise
+To quicken the flame in the western skies--
+To blow the clouds to a streaming flame,
+Where the red sun sinks in the opal sea,
+And red as the heart of the opal glows
+His last wild gleam in the waters grey.
+O grey-green waters, curling to rose,
+The kings are glad of the dying day;
+The kings are weary; the white mists close--
+The white mists gather to cover their shame.
+
+ASHALORN: The evening mist is dank upon my brow,
+And cold upon my lips--yea, cold as death;
+Yet, through the gloom, she gazes on me now,
+As in our early-wedded days; her breath
+Is warm once more upon my withered cheek.
+O gaunt, grey lips, that strive but may not speak;
+O cold, grey eyes, that flicker in the gloam--
+Long have we strayed; come, let us wander home!
+
+ARLO: Like lit September woodlands, streameth down
+Her hair, beneath the circle of her crown;
+Of rarer, redder glory than the cold
+Dead metal that for ever strives to hold
+The ever-straying wonder of live gold!
+Like woodland pools, her eyes, a dreaming brown--
+Like woodland pools where autumn-splendours drown!
+O red-gold tresses, shaking in the gloam,
+Unto your light, unto your shade I come!
+
+GARLAND: Her eyes are azure as the wind-blown sea,
+With deep sea-shadowings of grey and green;
+And like an April storm her shining hair--
+Yea, all the glittering Aprils that have been,
+And all the wondering Aprils yet to be,
+Have stored their wealth of shower and sunshine there;
+Yea, all the thousand, thousand springs of earth
+New-lit and re-awakened at her birth,
+In her sweet body glow and glimmer fair.
+O wonder of sea-colours and white foam
+And April glories, to thine arms I come!
+
+VOICE OF THE EVENING WIND: The sun is gone,
+  and the last, red flame
+Has faded away in a shimmer of rose--
+A shimmer of rose that shivers to grey.
+The kings are glad of the dying day--
+The kings are weary; the white mists close,
+The white mists gather to cover their shame.
+
+
+
+
+                     THE SONGS OF QUEEN AVERLAINE.
+
+
+                                To M. B.
+
+
+
+PERSONS: THE KING,
+  QUEEN AVERLAINE,
+  THE KNIGHT ARKELD.
+
+
+                                   I.
+                            KING AND QUEEN.
+
+
+                                   1.
+
+The day has come; at last my dream unfolds
+  White, wondering petals with the rising sun.
+No other glade in Love's world-garden holds
+  So fair a bloom from vanquished winter won.
+
+Long, oh, so long I watched through budding hours,
+  And, trembling, feared my dream would never wake;
+As, one by one, I saw star-tranced flowers
+  Out on the night their dewy splendour shake.
+
+But with the earliest gleam of dawn it stirred,
+  Knowing that Love had put the dark to flight;
+And I must sing more glad than any bird
+  Because the sun has filled my dream with light.
+
+
+                                   2.
+
+Is it high noon, already, in the land?
+O Love, I dreamed that morn could never pass;
+That we might ever wander, hand in hand,
+As children in June-meadows plucking flowers,
+Through ever-waking, fresh-unfolding hours:
+Yet now we sink love-wearied in the grass;
+Yea, it is noon, high noon in all the land.
+
+The young wind slumbers; all the little birds
+That sang about us in the fields of morn
+Are songless now; no happy flight of words
+On Love's lip hovers--Love has waxed to noon.
+Ah, God, if Love should wane to evening soon
+To perish in a sunless world, forlorn,
+And cease with the last song of weary birds!
+
+
+                                   3.
+
+At dawn I gathered flowers of white,
+To garland them for your delight.
+
+At noon I gathered flowers of blue,
+To weave them into joy for you.
+
+At eve I gather purple flowers,
+To strew above the withered hours.
+
+
+                                   4.
+
+She knelt at eve beside the stream,
+And, sighing, sang: "O waters clear,
+Forsaken now of joy and fear,
+I come to drown a withered dream.
+
+"Unseen of day, I let it fall
+Within the shadow of my hair.
+O little dream, that bloomed so fair,
+The waters hide you after all!"
+
+
+                                   5.
+
+"Is it not dawn?" she cried, and raised her head,
+"Or hath the sun, grey-shrouded, yesternight,
+Gone down with Love for ever to the dead?
+When Love has perished, can there yet be light?"
+
+"Yea, it is dawn," one answered: "see the dew
+Quivers agleam, and all the east is white;
+While in the willow song begins anew."
+"When Love has perished, can there yet be light?"
+
+
+
+                                  II.
+                         AVERLAINE AND ARKELD.
+
+
+                                   1.
+
+ARKELD: Oh, why did you lift your eyes to mine?
+Oh, why did you lift your drooping head?
+
+AVERLAINE: The tangled threads of the fates entwine
+Our hearts that follow as children led.
+
+ARKELD: From the utmost ends of the earth we came,
+As star moves starward through wildering night.
+
+AVERLAINE: Our souls have mingled as flame with flame,
+Yea, they have mingled as light with light.
+
+ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!
+
+ARKELD: The stars in their courses move through the sky
+Unswerving, unheeding, cold and blind.
+
+AVERLAINE: Why did you linger nor pass me by
+Where the cross-roads meet in the ways that wind?
+
+ARKELD: I saw your eyes from the dusk of your hair
+Flame out with sorrow and yearning love.
+
+AVERLAINE: And I, who wandered with grey despair,
+Looking up, saw heaven in blossom above.
+
+ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!
+
+ARKELD: May we not go as we came, alone,
+Unto the ends of the earth anew?
+
+AVERLAINE: May we draw afresh from the rose new-blown
+The golden sunlight, the crystal dew?
+
+ARKELD: Yea, love between us has bloomed as a rose
+Out of the desert under our feet.
+
+AVERLAINE: May we forget how the red heart glows,
+Forget that the dew on the petals is sweet?
+
+ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!
+
+ARKELD: Have the ages brought us together that we
+Might tremble, start at shadows, and cry?
+
+AVERLAINE: Yea, it has been, and ever will be
+Till Sorrow be slain or Love's self die.
+
+ARKELD: Stronger than Sorrow is Love; and Hate,
+The brother of Love, shall end our Sorrow.
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow is strong with the strength of Fate,
+And, slain, would rise from the grave to-morrow.
+
+ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow for ever between!
+
+
+                                   2.
+
+AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, and tear with ruthless hands
+The golden web wherein, too late, Love strove
+To weave us joy and bind us heart to heart.
+
+ARKELD: Yea, we must part, and strew on desert-sands
+Petal by petal all the rose of Love,
+And part for ever where the cross-ways part.
+
+AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, and never turn our eyes
+From strange horizons, desolate and far,
+Though Love cry ever: "Turn but once, sad heart!"
+
+ARKELD: Yea, we must part, and under alien skies
+Must follow after some cold, gleaming star,
+And roam, as north and south winds roam, apart.
+
+AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, ere Love be grown too strong
+And we too helpless to resist his might;
+While each may go with pure, unshamed heart.
+
+ARKELD: Yea, we must part; and though we do Love wrong,
+He will the more subdue us in our flight,
+And hold us each more surely his, apart.
+
+
+
+                         III. QUEEN AVERLAINE.
+
+
+                                   1.
+
+O love, I bade you go; and you have borne
+The summer with you from the valley-lands;
+The poppy-flame has perished from the corn;
+And in the chill, wan light of early morn
+The reapers come in doleful, starveling bands,
+To bind the blackened sheaves with listless hands;
+For rain has put their sowing-toil to scorn.
+
+O Love, I bade you go; and autumn brings
+Bleak desolation; yet within my heart
+Unquenched and fierce the flame you kindled springs;
+For, echoing all day long, the courtyard rings
+As loud it rang when, rending Love apart,
+Your white horse cantered--swift and keen to start--
+Into a world of other queens and kings.
+
+
+                                   2.
+
+I bade you go; ah, wherefore are you gone?
+How could you leave me dark and desolate,
+O Sun of Love, that for brief summer shone?
+Mine eyes are ever on the western gate,
+Half-wishing, half-foredreading your return.
+Return, O Love, return!
+
+I cannot live without you; through the dark
+I stretch blind hands to you across the world;
+All day on unknown battle-fields I mark
+Your sword's red course, your banner blue unfurled;
+Yet never, in my day-dreams, you return.
+Return, O Love, return!
+
+Nay, you are gone: O Love, I bade you go.
+I would not have you come again to be
+A stranger in this house of silent woe,
+Where, being all, you would be naught to me.
+Mine, mine in dreams, but lost if you return;
+Oh, nevermore return!
+
+
+                                   3.
+
+"To-day a wandering harper came
+With outland tales of deeds of fame;
+I hearkened from the noonday bright
+Until the failing of the light,
+The while he sang of joust and fight;
+Yet never once I caught your name.
+
+Oh, whither, whither are you gone,
+Whose name victorious ever shone
+Above all knights of other lands?
+Across what wilderness of sands?
+By what dead sea-deserted strands?
+On what far quest of Love forlorn?
+
+I loved you when men called you Lord
+Arkeld, the never-sleeping sword;
+Yet now, when all your might is furled,
+And you no longer crest the world,
+More are you mine than when you hurled
+Destruction on the embattled horde.
+
+
+                                   4.
+
+Oh, deeper in the silent house
+  The silence falls;
+Only the stir of bat or mouse
+  About the walls.
+
+No cry, no voice in any room,
+  No gust of breath;
+As if, within the clutch of doom,
+  We waited death.
+
+
+                                   5.
+
+The King is dead;
+  No longer now
+The cold eyes gleam
+  Beneath his brow.
+
+O cold, grey eyes,
+  Wherein the light
+Of Love at dawn
+  Seemed clear and bright,
+
+No true Love burned
+  Your cold desire,
+Which mirrored but
+  My own heart's fire.
+
+
+                                   6.
+
+The King died yesterday....  Ah, no, he died
+  When young Love perished long, so long ago;
+And on his throne, as marble at my side,
+  Has reigned a carven image, cold as snow,
+Though all men bowed before it, crying: "King!"
+
+Too late, too late the chains which held me fall;
+  Rock-bound, I bade the victor-knight go by;
+And now, when time has loosed me from the thrall,
+  I know not where he tarries, 'neath what sky
+He waits the winter's end, the dawn of spring.
+
+
+                                   7.
+
+Spring comes no more for me: though young March blow
+To flame the larches, and from tree to tree
+The green fire leap, till all the woodlands glow--
+Though every runnel, filled to overflow,
+Bear sea-ward, loud and brown with melted snow,
+Spring comes no more for me!
+
+Spring comes no more for me: though April light
+The flame of gorse above the peacock sea;
+Though in an interweaving mesh of white
+The seagulls hover 'neath the cliff's sheer height;
+Though, hour by hour, new joys are winged for flight,
+Spring comes no more for me!
+
+Spring comes no more for me: though May will shake
+White flame of hawthorn over all the lea,
+Till every thick-set hedge and tangled brake
+Puts on fresh flower of beauty for her sake;
+Though all the world from winter-sleep awake,
+Spring comes no more for me!
+
+
+                                   8.
+
+I wandered through the city till I came
+  Within the vast cathedral, cool and dim;
+I looked upon the windows all aflame
+  With blazoned knights and saints and seraphim.
+
+I looked on kings in purple, gold and blue,
+  On martyrs high before whom all men bow;
+Until a gleam of light my footsteps drew
+  Before a shining seraph, on whose brow
+
+A little flame, for ever pure and white,
+  Unwavering burns--the symbol of our love;
+And as I knelt before him in the night,
+  He looked, compassionate, on me from above.
+
+
+                                   9.
+
+I heard a harper 'neath the castle walls
+Sing, for night-shelter in the house of thralls,
+A song of hapless lovers; in the shade
+I paused awhile, unseen of man or maid.
+
+Taking his harp, he touched the moaning strings,
+And sang of queens unloved and loveless kings;
+His song shot through my fluttering heart like flame
+Till, wondering, I heard him breathe your name.
+
+Oh, then I knew how all the deathless wrong
+Time wrought of old is but a harper's song;
+And all the hopeless sorrow of long years
+An idle tale to win a stranger's tears.
+
+Yea, in the song of Love's immortal dead
+Our love was told; with shuddering heart I fled,
+And strove to pass upon my way unseen,
+But song was hushed with whispers: "Lo, the Queen!"
+
+
+                                  10.
+
+Was it for this we loved, O Time, to be
+Among Love's deathless through eternity,
+Set high on lone, divided peaks above
+The sheltered summer-valley, broad and green?
+Was it for this our joy and grief have been,
+Our barren day-dreams, dream-deserted nights--
+That valley-lovers, looking up, might see
+How vain is Love among the starry heights,
+And, loving, sigh: "How vain a thing is Love!"?
+
+O Love, that we had found thee in the shade
+Where, all day long, the deep, leaf-hidden glade
+Hears but the moan of some forsaken dove,
+Or the clear song of happy, nameless streams;
+Where, all night long, the August moonlight gleams
+Through warm, green dusk, no longer cold and white!
+O Love, that we had found thee, unafraid,
+One summer morn, and followed thee till night,
+As unknown valley-lovers follow Love!
+
+
+                                  11.
+
+I have grown old, awaiting spring's return,
+  And, now spring comes, I stand like winter grey
+In a young world; yet warm within me burn
+  The morning-fires Love kindled in youth's day.
+
+I have grown old; the young folk look on me
+  With sighs, and wonder that I once was fair,
+And whisper one another: "Is this she?
+  Did summer ever light that winter hair?
+
+"Ah, she is old; yet, she, too, once was young:
+  Yea, loved as we love even, for men tell
+How bright her beauty burned on every tongue,
+  And how a knightly stranger loved her well.
+
+"Yet Love grows old that beats so young and warm;
+  His leaping fires in dust and ashes fail;
+Shall we, too, wither in the winter-storm,
+  And wander thus one April, old and frail?"
+
+Love grows not old, O lovers, though youth die,
+  And bodily beauty perish as the flower;
+Though all things fail, though spring and summer fly,
+  Love's fire burns quenchless till the last dark hour.
+
+
+                                  12.
+
+O valley-lovers, think you love,
+Being all of joy, knows naught of sorrow?
+A day, a night
+Of swift delight
+That fears no dread, grey-dawning morrow?
+
+O valley-lovers, think you love
+Knows only laughter, naught of weeping?
+A rose-red fire
+Of warm desire
+For ever burning, never sleeping?
+
+O lovers, little know ye Love.
+Love is a flame that feeds on sorrow--
+A lone star bright
+Through endless night
+That waits a never-dawning morrow.
+
+
+                                  13.
+
+"Thus would I sing of life,
+Ere I must yield my breath:
+Though broken in the strife,
+I sought not after death.
+Though ruthless years have scourged
+My soul with sorrow's brands,
+And, day by day, have urged
+My feet o'er desert-sands;
+Yet would I rather tread
+Again the bitter trail,
+Than lie, calm-browed and pale,
+Among the loveless dead.
+
+No pang would I forego,
+No stab of suffering,
+No agony of woe,
+If I to life might cling;
+If I might follow still,
+For evermore, afar,
+O'er barren dale and hill,
+My Love's unfading star.
+Yea, now, with failing breath,
+Thus would I sing of life:
+Though broken in the strife,
+I sought not after death.
+
+
+                                  14.
+
+Darkness has come upon me in the end;
+Darkness has come upon me like a friend,
+Yet undesired; why comest thou, O night,
+To seal mine eyes for ever from the light?
+
+Darkness has come upon me; yet a star
+Burns through the night and beckons me from far.
+Look up, O eyes, unfaltering, without fear;
+O morning-star of Love, the dawn is near!
+
+
+
+
+                            THE GOLDEN HELM.
+
+
+
+                            The Golden Helm
+
+
+                                   I.
+
+Across his stripling shoulders Geoffrey felt
+The knighting-sword fall lightly, and he heard
+The King's voice bid him rise; and at the word
+He rose, new-flushed with knighthood, swiftly grown
+To sudden manhood, though, but now, he knelt
+A vigil-wearied squire before the throne.
+He paused one moment while the people turned
+To look on him with eyes that kindled bright,
+Seeing his face aglow with strange, new light;
+Yet them he saw not where they watched amazed,
+And, though like azure flames Queen Hild's eyes burned,
+Beyond the shadow of the throne he gazed
+To where, in kindred rapture, young Christine
+Stood, tremulous and white, in wind-flower grace--
+Beneath her thick, dark hair, her happy face
+Pale-gleaming 'midst the ruddy maiden-throng;
+But, following Geoffrey's eyes, the trembling Queen
+Now bade the harpers rouse the air with song:
+From pulsing throat and silver-throbbing string
+The music soared, light-winged, and, fluttering, fell;
+When, startled as one waking from a spell,
+Geoffrey stepped back among the waiting knights;
+While knelt another squire before the King.
+In Queen Hild's eyes yet hovered stormy lights,
+Beneath her glooming brows, as waters gleam
+Under snow-laden skies; the summer day
+For her in that brief glance had shivered grey,
+Empty of light and song.  She only heard
+The King and knights as people of a dream;
+Yet keenly Geoffrey's lightest, laughing word
+Stung to the quick, and stabbed her quivering life,
+Till from each shuddering wound the red joy flowed;
+And, though a ruddy fire on each cheek glowed,
+She felt her drain�d heart within her cold;
+Then all at once a hot thought stirred new strife
+Within her breast, and suddenly grown old
+And wise in treacherous imagining,
+She pressed her thin lips to a bitter smile,
+And strove with laughing mask to hide the guile
+That, slowly welling, through her body poured
+Cold-blooded life that feels no arrowy sting
+Of joy or hope, nor thrust of pity's sword.
+To Christine, where she yet enraptured stood,
+Hild, turning, spake kind words, and coldly praised
+The new-made knight.  Each word Christine amazed
+Drank in with joyous heart and eager ears;
+To her it seemed ne'er lived a Queen so good;
+And love's swift rapture filled her eyes with tears.
+For her true heart, the day-long pageant moved
+Round Geoffrey's shining presence; king and knight
+But shone for her with pale, reflected light.
+As tranc�d planets circling round the sun,
+About the radiant head of her beloved
+The dim throngs moved until the day was done.
+When lucent gold suffused the cloudless west,
+And lingering thrush-notes failed in drowsy song,
+She left, at last, the weary maiden-throng,
+To stray alone through dew-hung garden-glades;
+And all the love unsealed within her breast
+Flowed out from her to light the darkest shades.
+Her quivering maiden-body could not hold
+The sudden welling of love's loosened flood;
+Through all her limbs it gushed, and in her blood
+It stormed each throbbing pulse with blissful ache;
+It seemed to spray the utmost glooms with gold,
+And scatter glistening dews in every brake.
+While yet she moved in rapture unafraid
+Among the lilies, down the Grey Nun's Walk,
+She heard behind the snapping of a stalk,
+And stayed transfixed, nor dared to turn her head,
+But stood a solitary, trembling maid--
+Forlorn and frail, with all her courage fled.
+Thus Geoffrey found her as, hot-foot, he pressed
+To pour about her all the glowing tide
+Day-pent within his heart; the flood-gates wide,
+His love swept over her, sea after sea,
+Until life almost swooned within her breast,
+And she seemed like to drown in ecstasy.
+Yet, as the tempest sank in calm at last,
+She rose from out the foam of love, new-born--
+As Venus from the irised surf of morn--
+To such triumphant beauty, Geoffrey, thralled,
+Before her stood in wonder rooted fast;
+Even his love within him bowed appalled
+In tongueless worship as he gazed on her;
+While, lily-like, the tranc�d flowers among,
+She stood, love-radiant, and above her hung
+The canopy of star-enkindling night;
+Though, when again she moved with joyous stir,
+He sprang to her in love's unchallenged might.
+
+
+                                  II.
+
+All night, beside her slumbering lord, the Queen
+Tossed sleepless--every aching sense astrain
+With tingling wakefulness that racked like pain
+Her weary limbs; all night, in wide-eyed dread,
+She watched the slow hours moving dark between
+The glimmering window and the curtained bed.
+The fitful calling of the owl, all night,
+Struck like the voice of terror on her ears;
+With brushing wings, about her taloned fears
+Fluttered till dawn: when, as the summer gloom,
+Grey-quivering, spilt in silver-showering light,
+She rose and stood within the dawning room,
+Shivering and pale--her long, unbraided hair
+Each moment quickening to a livelier gold
+About her snowy shoulders; yet, more cold
+Than the still gleam of winter-frozen meres,
+Her blue eyes shone with strange, unseeing stare,
+As though they sought to pierce some mist of fears;
+And, when she turned, the old familiar things
+Unknown and alien seemed to her sight--
+Outworn and faded in the morning light
+The rose-embroidered tapestries, and frail
+The painted Love that hung on irised wings
+Above the sleeping King.  Dark-browed and pale
+She looked upon her lord, and fresh despair
+With dreadful calm through all her being stole,
+And froze with icy breath the flickering soul
+That strove within her.  Evil courage steeled
+Her heart once more, as, combing back her hair,
+She watched the waking world of wood and field:
+Hay-harvesters with long scythes flashing white;
+The dewy-browsing deer; the blue smoke-curl
+Above some woodland hut; a kerchiefed girl
+Driving the kine afield with loitering pace.
+But, as a youthful rider came in sight,
+She from the casement turned with darkening face,
+And looked not out again, and fiercely pressed
+Her white teeth in her quivering underlip,
+To stifle the wild cry that strove to slip
+From her strained throat; with clutching hands she sought
+To stay the throbbing tumult of her breast
+That fluttered like a bird in meshes caught.
+
+Christine as yet in dreamless slumber lay
+Within her turret-chamber; but a bird
+Within the laurel singing softly stirred
+Her eyes to wakeful life, and from her bed
+She rose and stood within the light of day,
+White-faced and wondering, with lifted head.
+As April-butterflies, new-winged for flight,
+That poise awhile in quivering amaze,
+Ere they may dare the unknown, glittering ways
+Of perilous airs--upon the brink of morn
+She paused one moment in the showering light,
+In radiant ecstasy of youth forlorn.
+Then swift remembrance flushed her virgin snow,
+And wakened in her eyes the living fire;
+With joyous haste she drew her bright attire
+About her trembling limbs, with eager hands,
+Veiling her maiden beauty's morning glow,
+Before she looked abroad on meadowlands,
+Where Geoffrey rode at dawn.  Across the blaze
+Of dandelions silvering to seed,
+She saw his white horse swing with easy speed;
+He rode with head exultant in the breeze
+That lifted his brown hair.  With lingering gaze
+She watched him vanish down an aisle of trees;
+Then, swiftly gathering her dark hair in braids
+Above her slender neck, she crossed the floor
+With noiseless step, unlatched the creaking door,
+And stole in trembling silence down the stair,
+Intent to reach the garden ere the maids
+Should come with chattering tongues and laughter there;
+When by her side she heard a rustling stir:
+The arras parted, and before her stood
+Queen Hild in proud, imperious womanhood,
+Looking upon her with cold, smiling eyes.
+In startled wonder Christine glanced at her.
+Then spake the Queen: "Do maids thus early rise
+To tend their household duties, or to feed
+The doves, relinquishing sleep's precious hours
+To see the morning dew upon the flowers
+And what frail blooms have perished 'neath the moon?
+To reach the Grey Nun's Walk, mayhap you speed--
+To count the stricken buds of lilies strewn
+O'ernight upon the soil by careless feet
+That wandered there so late?  Yea, now I know,
+Christine, because you flush and tremble so.
+Yet look you not on me with eyes that burn;
+I would not stay you when you go to greet
+The rider of the dawn on his return.
+Think you I leave my bed at break of day--
+I, Hild the Queen--to thwart a lover's kiss?
+Think you my love of you could stoop to this,
+Though you would wed a fledgling, deedless Knight?
+Nay, shrink you not from me, turn not away;
+Because my heart has never known love's light,
+I fain would hear your happy tale of love,
+That I may prosper you and your fair youth.
+Will you not trust me?"  Blind with love's glad truth,
+Christine sank down within Hild's outstretched arms.
+Speechless, awhile, with sobbing breath she strove;
+Then poured out all the tale of love's alarms,
+Raptures, despairs, and deathless ecstasies,
+In one quick torrent from her brimming heart;
+Then, quaking, ceased, and drew herself apart,
+Dismayed that she so easily had revealed
+To this white, cold-eyed Queen love's sanctities.
+Yet Hild moved not, but stood, with hard lips sealed,
+Until, the chiming of the turret-bell
+Recalling her, she spake with far-off voice:
+"I, loveless, in your innocent love rejoice.
+May nothing stem its eager raptured course!
+Oh, that my barren heart could love so well,
+And feel the surge of love's subduing force!
+Yet even I from out my dearth may give
+To you, Christine.  Would you that Geoffrey's name
+Shall shine, unchallenged, on the lists of fame?
+If you would have him win for you the crown
+Of knightly immortality, and live
+Triumphant on men's tongues in high renown,
+Follow me now."  With cold, exulting eyes
+She raised the arras, opening to the light
+An unknown stair-way clambering into night.
+Within the caverned wall she swiftly passed.
+Christine for one brief moment in surprise
+Uncertain paused; then, wondering, followed fast.
+The falling arras shutting out the day,
+She stumbled blindly through the soaring gloom--
+Enclosing dank and chilly as the tomb
+Her panting life; and unto her it seemed
+That ever, as she climbed, more sheer the way
+Before her rose, and ever fainter gleamed
+The wan, white star of light that overhead
+Hovered remote.  Far up the stair she heard
+A silken rustling as, without a word,
+Relentlessly Queen Hild before her sped
+For ever up the ever-soaring steep.
+But when it almost seemed that she must fall--
+So loudly in her ears the pulses beat,
+And each step seemed to sink beneath her feet--
+She heard the shrilly grating of a key,
+And saw, above her, in the unseen wall,
+A dazzling square of day break suddenly.
+Within the lighted doorway Queen Hild turned
+To reach a helping hand, and, as she bent
+To clutch the swooning maiden, well-nigh spent,
+And drew her to the chamber, weak and faint,
+Through her gold hair so rare a lustre burned,
+It seemed to Christine that an aureoled saint
+Leaned out from heaven to snatch her from the deep.
+Then, dizzily, she sank upon the floor,
+Dreaming that toil was over evermore,
+And she secure in Love's celestial fold;
+Till, waking gradually as from a sleep,
+Her dark eyes opened on a blaze of gold.
+She sat within a chamber hung around
+With glistering tapestry, whereon a knight,
+Who bore a golden helm above the fight,
+For ever triumphed o'er assailing swords,
+Or led the greenwood chase with horse and hound,
+While far behind him lagged the dames and lords
+And all the hunting train; till he, at length,
+Brought low the antlered quarry on the brink
+Of some deep, craggy cleft, wherefrom did shrink
+The quailing hounds with lathered flanks aquake.
+As Christine looked on them, her maiden-strength
+Returned to her; and now, more broad awake,
+She saw, within the centre of the room,
+A golden table whereon glittered bright
+A casket of wrought gold, and, in the light,
+Queen Hild, awaiting her, with smiling lips,
+And laughing words: "Is this then love's sad doom,
+To perish, fainting, in light's brief eclipse
+Between a curtain and a closed door?
+Shall this bright casket ever hold, unsought,
+The golden helm--in elfin-ages wrought
+For some star-destined knight--because love's heart
+Grows faint within her?  Shall the world no more
+Acclaim its helm�d lord?"  But, with a start,
+Christine arose, and swiftly forward came
+With eager eyes, and stooped with fluttering breast--
+Her slender, shapely hands together pressed
+In tense expectancy, and all her face
+With quivering light of wondering love aflame.
+The Queen bent down, and in a breathing space
+Unlocked the casket with a golden key,
+And deftly loosed a little golden pin;
+The heavy lid swung open and, within,
+To Christine's eyes revealed the golden helm.
+Then spake Queen Hild, once more: "Your love-gift see!
+Think you that any smith in all the realm
+Can beat dull metal to so fair a casque?
+In jewelled caverns of enchantment old
+This helm was wrought of magic-tempered gold
+To yieldless strength, by elfin-hammers chased,
+That toiled unwearied at their age-long task,
+And over it an unknown legend traced
+In letters of some world-forgotten tongue.
+At noon, with careful footing, down the stair
+Unto the hall the casket you must bear,
+When King and knight are gathered round the board,
+And, ere the tales be told or songs be sung,
+Acclaim your love the golden-helmed lord."
+Christine, awhile, in speechless wonderment,
+Hung o'er the glistering helm, and silence fell
+Within the arrased chamber like a spell;
+While softly, on some distant, sunlit roof,
+The basking pigeons cooed with deep content;
+Till, far below, a sudden-clanging hoof
+Startled the morn.  The women's lifted eyes
+One moment met in kindred ecstasy;
+Then Hild, with hopeless shudder, shaking free,
+With strained voice spake: "Why do you longer wait?
+Your love returns; shall he, in sad surprise,
+Find no glad face to greet him at the gate?"
+
+
+                                  III.
+
+As some new jest was tossed from tongue to tongue,
+Light laughter rippled round the midday board,
+Beneath the bannered rafters: dame and lord
+And maid and squire with merry chattering
+Sat feasting; though no motley humour wrung
+A smile from Hild, where she, beside the King,
+Watched pale and still.  She saw on Geoffrey's face
+Grave wonder that he caught not anywhere
+Among the maids the dusk of Christine's hair,
+Or sunlight of her glance.  His eyes, between
+The curtained doorway and her empty place,
+Kept eager, anxious vigil for Christine.
+But when, at last, the lingering meal nigh o'er,
+The waking harp-notes trembled through the hush,
+Like the light, fitful prelude of the thrush
+Ere his full song enchant the dom�d elm;
+The arras parting, through the open door
+She came.  Before her borne, the golden helm
+Within the dim-lit hall shone out so bright,
+That lord and dame in rustling wonder rose,
+And squire and maiden sought to gather close,
+With questioning lips, about the love-bright maid.
+Christine, unheeding, turned nor left nor right;
+With lifted head and eager step unstayed,
+She strode to Geoffrey, while he stood alone,
+Radiant with wondering love--as one who sees
+The light of high, eternal mysteries
+Illume awhile the mortal shade that moves
+From out oblivion unto night unknown,
+Hugging a little grace of joys and loves.
+Before him now she came and, kneeling, spake,
+With slow, clear-welling voice: "In ages old
+This helm was wrought from elfin-hammered gold,
+For one who, in the after-days, should be
+Supreme above his kind, as, in the brake
+Of branching fern, the solitary tree
+That crests the fell-top.  Unto you I bring
+The gift of destiny, that, as the sun
+New-risen of your knighthood, newly-won,
+The wondering world may see its glory shine."
+As Christine spake, with questioning glance the King
+Turned to the Queen, who gave no answering sign.
+Then, stretching forth his arm, he cried: "Sir knight,
+I know not by what evil chance this maid
+Has climbed the secret newell-stair unstayed
+And reached the casket-chamber, and has borne
+From thence the Helm of Strife, whereon the light
+Of day has never fallen, night or morn,
+For seven hundred years; but, ere you take
+The doomful gift, know this: he who shall dare
+To don the golden helm must ever fare
+Upon the edge of peril, ever ride
+Between dark-ambushed dangers, ever wake
+Unto the thunderous crash of battle-tide.
+Oh, pause before you take the fateful helm.
+Will you, so young, forego, for evermore,
+The sheltered haven-raptures of the shore,
+To strive in ceaseless tempest, till, at last,
+The fury-crested wave shall overwhelm
+Your broken life on death's dark crag upcast?"
+He ceased, and stood with eyes of hot appeal;
+An aching silence shuddered through the hall;
+None stirred nor spake, though, swaying like to fall,
+Christine, in mute, imploring agony,
+Wavered nigh death.  As glittering points of steel
+Queen Hild's eyes gleamed in bitter victory.
+But all were turned to Geoffrey, where he stood
+In pillared might of manhood, very fair;
+His face a little paled beneath his hair,
+Though bright his eyes with all the light of day.
+At length he spake: "For evil or for good,
+I take the Helm of Strife; let come what may."
+
+
+                                  IV.
+
+Dawn shivered coldly through the meadowlands;
+The ever-trembling aspens by the stream
+Quivered with chilly light and fitful gleam;
+Ruffling the heavy foliage of the plane,
+Until the leaves turned, like pale, lifted hands,
+A cold gust stirred with presage of near rain.
+Coldly the light on Geoffrey's hauberk fell;
+But yet more cold on Christine's heart there lay
+The winter-clutch of grief, as, far away,
+She saw him ride, and in the stirrup rise
+And, turning, wave to her a last farewell.
+Beyond the ridge he vanished, and her eyes
+Caught the far flashing of the helm of gold
+One moment as it glanced with mocking light;
+Then naught but tossing pine-trees filled her sight.
+Yet darker gloomed the woodlands 'neath the drench
+Of pillared showers; colder and yet more cold
+Her heart had shuddered since the last, hot wrench
+Of parting overnight.  Though still her mouth
+Felt the mute impress of love's sacred seal;
+Though still through all her senses seemed to steal
+The heavy fume of wound-wort that had hung
+All night about the hedgerows--parched with drouth;
+Though the first notes the missel-cock had sung,
+Ere darkness fled, resounded in her ears;
+Yet no hot tempest of tumultuous woe
+Shook her young body.  As night-fallen snow
+Burdens with numb despair young April's green,
+Her sorrow lay upon her; hopes and fears
+Within her slept.  As something vaguely seen
+Nor realised--since yesterday's dread noon
+Had shattered all love's triumph--life had passed
+About her like a dream by doom o'ercast.
+Long hours she sat, with silent, folded hands,
+And face that glimmered like a winter moon
+In cloudy hair.  Across the rain-grey lands
+She gazed with eyes unseeing; till she heard
+A step within her chamber, and her name
+Fell dully on her ear; then like a flame
+Sharp anguish shot through every aching limb
+With keen remembrance.  Suddenly she stirred,
+And, turning, looked on Hild.  "Grieve you for him..."
+The Queen began; then, with a little gasp,
+Her voice failed, and she shrank before the gaze
+Of Christine's eyes, and, shrivelled by the blaze
+Of fires her hand had kindled, all her pride
+Fell shredded, and not even the gold clasp
+Of queenhood held, her naked deed to hide.
+She quailed, and, turning, fled from out the room.
+Soon Christine's wrath was drowned in whelming grief,
+And in the fall of tears she found relief--
+As brooding skies in sweet release of rain.
+All day she wept, until, at length, the gloom
+Of eve laid soothing hands upon her pain.
+Then, once again, she rose, calm-browed, and sped
+Downstairs with silent step, and reached, unstayed,
+The Grey Nun's Walk, where all alone a maid
+Drank in the rain-cooled air.  With low-breathed words,
+They whispered long together, while, o'erhead,
+From rain-wet branches rang the song of birds.
+The maiden often paused as in alarm;
+Then, with uncertain, half-delaying pace,
+She left Christine, returning in a space
+With Philip, Christine's brother, a young squire,
+Who strode by her with careless, swinging arm
+And eager face, with keen, blue eyes afire.
+Then all three stood, with whispering heads bent low,
+In eager converse clustered; till, at last,
+They parted, and, with high hopes beating fast,
+Christine unto her turret-room returned--
+Her dark eyes bright and all her face aglow,
+As if some new-lit rapture in her burned.
+About her little chamber swift she moved,
+Until, at length, in travelling array,
+She paused to rest, and all-impatient lay
+Upon her snow-white bed, and watched the light
+Fail from the lilied arras that she loved
+Because her hand had wrought each petal white
+And slender, emerald stem.  The falling night
+Was lit for her with many a memory
+Of little things she could no longer see,
+That had been with her in old, happy hours,
+Before her girlish joys had taken flight
+As morning dews from noon-unfolding flowers.
+For her, with laggard pace the minutes trailed,
+Till night seemed to eternity outdrawn.
+At last, an hour before the summer-dawn,
+She rose and once again, with noiseless tread,
+Crept down the stair, grey-cloaked and closely veiled,
+While every shadow struck her cold with dread
+Lest, drawing back the arras, Hild should stand
+With mocking smile before her; but, unstayed,
+She reached the stair-foot, and, no more afraid,
+She sought a low and shadow-hidden door,
+Slid back the silent bolts with eager hand,
+And stepped into the garden dim once more.
+She quickly crossed a dewy-plashing lawn,
+And, passing through a little wicket-gate,
+She reached the road.  Not long had she to wait
+Ere, with two bridled horses, Philip came.
+Silent they mounted; far they fared ere dawn
+Burnished the castle-weathercock to flame.
+
+
+                                   V.
+
+Northward they climbed from out the valley mist;
+Northward they crossed the sun-enchanted fells;
+Northward they plunged down deep, fern-hidden dells;
+And northward yet--until the sapphire noon
+Had burned and glowed to thunderous amethyst
+Of evening skies about an opal moon;
+Northward they followed fast the loud-tongued fame
+Of young Sir Geoffrey of the golden helm;
+Until it seemed that storm must overwhelm
+Their weary flight.  They sought a lodging-place,
+And soon upon a lonely cell they came
+Wherein a hermit laboured after grace.
+On beds of withered bracken, soft and warm,
+He housed them, and himself, all night, alone,
+Knelt in long vigil on the aching stone,
+Within his little chapel, though, all night,
+His prayers were drowned by thunders of the storm,
+And all about him flashed blue, pulsing light.
+Christine in calm, undreaming slumber lay,
+Nor stirred till, clear and glittering, the morn
+Sang through the forest; though, with roots uptorn,
+The mightiest-limbed and highest-soaring oak
+Had fallen charred, with green leaves shrivelled grey.
+At tinkling of the matin-bell she woke,
+And soon with Philip left the woodland boughs
+For barer uplands.  Over tawny bent
+And purpling heath they rode till day was spent;
+When, down within a broad, green-dusking dale,
+They sought the shelter of the holy house
+Of God's White Sisters of the Virgin's Veil.
+So, day by day, they ever northward pressed,
+Until they left the lands of peace behind,
+And rode among the border-hills, where blind
+Insatiate warfare ever rages fierce;
+Where night-winds ever fan a fiery crest,
+And dawn's light breaks on bright, embattled spears:
+A land whose barren hills are helmed with towers;
+A lone, grey land of battle-wasted shires;
+A land of blackened barns and empty byres;
+A land of rock-bound holds and robber-hordes,
+Of slumberous noons and wakeful midnight hours,
+Of ambushed dark and moonlight flashing swords.
+With hand on hilt and ever-kindling eyes,
+Flushed face and quivering nostril, Philip rode;
+But nought assailed them; every lone abode
+Forsaken seemed; all empty lay the land
+Beneath the empty sky; only the cries
+Of plovers pierced the blue on either hand;
+Until, at sudden cresting of a hill,
+The clang of battle sounded on their ears,
+And, far below, they saw a surge of spears
+Crash on unyielding ranks; while, from the sea
+Of striving steel, with deathly singing shrill,
+A spray of arrows flickered fitfully.
+Amazed they stood, wide-eyed, with holden breath;
+When, of a sudden, flashed upon their sight
+The golden helm in midmost of the fight,
+Where, with high-lifted head and undismayed,
+Sir Geoffrey rode, a very lord of death,
+With ever-leaping, ever-crashing blade.
+Christine watched long, now cold with quaking dread,
+Now hot with hope as each assailant fell;
+The bright sword held her gaze as by a spell;
+Because love blinded her to all but love,
+Unmoved she watched the foemen shudder dead,
+She whose heart erst the meanest woe could move.
+Then, dazed, she saw a solitary shaft,
+Unloosed with certain aim from out the bow,
+Strike clean through Geoffrey's hauberk, and bring low
+The golden helm, while o'er him swiftly met
+The tides of fight.  Christine a little laughed
+With rattling throat, and stood with still eyes set.
+Scarce Philip dared to raise his eyes to hers
+To see the terror there.  No word she spake,
+But leaned a little forward through the brake
+That bloomed about her in a golden blaze;
+Her hands were torn to bleeding by the furze,
+Yet nothing could disturb that dreadful gaze.
+Then, gradually, the heaving battle swerved
+To northward, faltering broken, and afar
+It closed again, where, round a jutting scar,
+The flashing torrent of the river curved.
+With eager step Christine ran down the hill,
+And sped across the late-forsaken field
+To where, with shattered sword and splintered shield,
+Among the mounded bodies Geoffrey lay.
+She loosed his helm, but deathly pale and still
+His young face gleamed within the light of day.
+Christine beside him knelt, as Philip sought
+A draught of water from the peat-born stream;
+When, in his eyes, at last, a fitful gleam
+Flickered, and bending low, with straining ears,
+The laboured breathing of her name she caught;
+And over his dead face fell fast her tears.
+Once more towards them the tide of battle swept;
+Christine moved not.  Young Philip on her cried,
+And strove, in vain, to draw her safe aside.
+A random shaft in her unshielded breast--
+Though hot to stay its course her brother leapt--
+Struck quivering, and she slowly sank to rest.
+
+
+                                  VI.
+
+Queen Hild sat weaving in her garden-close,
+When on her startled ear there fell the news
+Of Christine's flight before the darkling dews
+Had thrilled with dawn.  A strand of golden thread
+Slipped from her trembling fingers as she rose
+And hastened to the castle with drooped head.
+All morn she paced within her blinded room,
+Unresting, to and fro, her white hands clenched;
+All morn within her tearless eyes, unquenched,
+Blue fires of anger smouldered, yet no moan
+Escaped her lips.  Without, in summer bloom,
+The garden murmured with bliss-burdened drone
+Of hover-flies and lily-charmed bees;
+Sometimes a finch lit on the window-ledge,
+With shrilly pipe, or, from the rose-hung hedge,
+A blackbird fluted; yet she neither heard
+Nor heeded aught; until, by rich degrees,
+Drowsed into noon the noise of bee and bird.
+Yea, even when, without her chamber, stayed
+A doubtful step, and timid fingers knocked,
+She answered not, but, swiftly striding, locked
+Yet more secure, with angry-clicking key,
+The bolted door, and the affrighted maid
+Unto the waiting hall fled, fearfully.
+Wearied at last, upon her bed Queen Hild
+In fitful slumber sank; but evil dreams
+Of battle-stricken lands and blood-red streams
+Swirled through her brain.  Then, suddenly, she woke,
+Wide-eyed, and sat upright, with body chilled,
+Though in her throat the hot air seemed to choke.
+Swiftly she rose; then, binding her loosed hair,
+She bathed her throbbing brows, and, cold and calm,
+Downstairs she glided, while the evening-psalm
+In maiden-voices quavered, faint and sweet,
+And from the chapel-tower, through quivering air,
+The bell's clear silver-tinkling clove the heat.
+She strode into the hall where yet the King
+Sat with his knights; a weary minstrel stirred
+Cool, throbbing wood-notes, throated like a bird,
+From his soft-string�d lute.  With scornful eyes
+Hild looked on them and spake: "Can nothing sting
+Your slumberous hearts from slothful peace to rise?
+Must only stripling-knights and maidens ride
+To battle, where, unceasing, foemen wage
+War on your marches, and your wardens rage
+In impotent despair with desperate swords,
+While you, O King, with sheath�d arms abide?"
+She paused, and, wondering, the King and lords
+Looked on her mutely; then, again, she spake:
+"Shall I, then, and my maidens sally forth
+With battle-brands to conquer the wild north?
+Yea, I will go!  Who follows after me?"
+As by a blow struck suddenly awake,
+The King leapt up, and, like a clamorous sea,
+The knights about him.  Scornfully the Queen
+Looked on them: "So my woman's words have roused
+The hands that slumbered and the hearts that drowsed.
+Make ready then for battle; ere seven days
+Have passed, the dawn must light your armour's sheen,
+And in the sun your pennoned lances blaze."
+Her voice ceased; and a pulsing flame of light
+Flashed through the hall; in crashing thunder broke
+The heavy, hanging heat; the rafters woke
+In echo as the rainy torrent poured;
+Bright gleamed the rapid lightning; yet more bright
+The war-lust kindled hot in every lord.
+To clang of armour the seventh morning stirred
+From slumber; restless hoof and champing bit
+Aroused the garth; and day, arising, lit
+A hundred lances, as, each bolt withdrawn,
+The courtyard-gate swung wide with noise far-heard,
+And flickering pennons rode into the dawn--
+Before his knights, the King, and at his side,
+Queen Hild, with ever-northward-gazing eyes;
+But, ere they far had fared, in mute surprise
+They stayed and all drew rein, as down the road
+They saw a little band of warriors ride--
+Sore travel-stained--who bore a heavy load
+Upon a branch-hung litter; while before
+Came Philip, bearing a war-broken lance.
+Though King and lords looked, wondering, in a glance
+Queen Hild had read the sorrow of his face
+And pierced the leaf-hid secret--which e'ermore
+A brand of fire upon her heart would trace.
+Darkness about her swirled, but, with a fierce
+Wild, conquering shudder, shaking herself free,
+Unto the light she clung, though like a sea
+It surged and eddied round her; yet so still
+She sat, none knew her steely eyes could pierce
+The leafy screen.  With guilty terror chill,
+She heard the king speak--sadly riding forth:
+"Whence come you, Philip, battle-stained and slow?
+What burden bear you with such brows of woe?"
+Then Philip answered, mournfully: "I bring
+Two wanderers home from out the perilous north.
+Prepare to gaze on death's defeat, O King."
+They lowered the litter slowly to the ground;
+Back fell the branches; in the light of day,
+In calm, white sleep Christine and Geoffrey lay,
+And at their feet the baleful Helm of Strife
+Sword-cloven.  Hushed stood all the knights around,
+When spake the King, alighting: "Come, O wife,
+And let us twain, with humble heads low-bowed,
+Even at the feet of love triumphant stand,
+A little while together, hand in hand."
+The Queen obeyed; but, fearfully, she shrank
+Before the eyes of death, and, quaking, cowed,
+With moaning cry, low in the dust she sank.
+
+
+
+                     PRINTED BY R. FOLKARD AND SON,
+            23, DEVONSHIRE STREET, QUEEN SQUARE, BLOOMSBURY.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN HELM ***
+
+
+
+
+A Word from Project Gutenberg
+
+
+We will update this book if we find any errors.
+
+This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42052
+
+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.  Special rules, set forth in the
+General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and
+distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works to protect the
+Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a
+registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks,
+unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything
+for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may
+use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative
+works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and
+printed and given away - you may do practically _anything_ with public
+domain eBooks.  Redistribution is subject to the trademark license,
+especially commercial redistribution.
+
+
+
+The Full Project Gutenberg License
+
+
+_Please read this before you distribute or use this work._
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg(tm) mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or
+any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg(tm) License available with this file or online at
+http://www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+Section 1. General Terms of Use & Redistributing Project Gutenberg(tm)
+electronic works
+
+
+*1.A.* By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg(tm)
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the
+terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all
+copies of Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works in your possession. If
+you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg(tm) electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+*1.B.* "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things
+that you can do with most Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works even
+without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph
+1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg(tm) electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic
+works. See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+*1.C.* The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the
+Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of
+Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works. Nearly all the individual works
+in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you
+from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating
+derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project
+Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the
+Project Gutenberg(tm) mission of promoting free access to electronic
+works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg(tm) works in compliance with
+the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg(tm) name
+associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this
+agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full
+Project Gutenberg(tm) License when you share it without charge with
+others.
+
+
+*1.D.* The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg(tm) work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+*1.E.* Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+*1.E.1.* The following sentence, with active links to, or other
+immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg(tm) License must appear
+prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg(tm) work (any work
+on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed,
+performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
+
+    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 http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+*1.E.2.* If an individual Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic work is
+derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating
+that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can
+be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying
+any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a
+work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on
+the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs
+1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg(tm) trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+*1.E.3.* If an individual Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic work is
+posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and
+distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and
+any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
+will be linked to the Project Gutenberg(tm) License for all works posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of
+this work.
+
+*1.E.4.* Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project
+Gutenberg(tm) License terms from this work, or any files containing a
+part of this work or any other work associated with Project
+Gutenberg(tm).
+
+*1.E.5.* Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg(tm) License.
+
+*1.E.6.* You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg(tm) work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg(tm) web site
+(http://www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or
+expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a
+means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include
+the full Project Gutenberg(tm) License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+*1.E.7.* Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg(tm) works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+*1.E.8.* You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works
+provided that
+
+  - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+    the use of Project Gutenberg(tm) works calculated using the method
+    you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
+    to the owner of the Project Gutenberg(tm) trademark, but he has
+    agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
+    Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
+    within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
+    legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
+    payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
+    Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
+    Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
+    Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+  - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+    you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+    does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg(tm)
+    License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
+    copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
+    all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg(tm)
+    works.
+
+  - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
+    any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+    electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
+    receipt of the work.
+
+  - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+    distribution of Project Gutenberg(tm) works.
+
+
+*1.E.9.* If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
+Gutenberg(tm) electronic work or group of works on different terms than
+are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
+from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg(tm) trademark. Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3. below.
+
+*1.F.*
+
+*1.F.1.* Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg(tm) collection.
+Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works, and the
+medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but
+not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription
+errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a
+defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer
+codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
+
+*1.F.2.* LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg(tm) trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg(tm) electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees.
+YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY,
+BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN
+PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND
+ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR
+ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES
+EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.
+
+*1.F.3.* LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+*1.F.4.* Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+*1.F.5.* Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+*1.F.6.* INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg(tm)
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg(tm) work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg(tm)
+
+
+Project Gutenberg(tm) is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg(tm)'s
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg(tm) collection will remain
+freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and
+permanent future for Project Gutenberg(tm) and future generations. To
+learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and
+how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the
+Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org .
+
+
+Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state
+of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue
+Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is
+64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf . Contributions to the
+Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the
+full extent permitted by U.S.  federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr.
+S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809
+North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page
+at http://www.pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+
+    Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+    Chief Executive and Director
+    gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation
+
+
+Project Gutenberg(tm) depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where
+we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
+DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
+visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any
+statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside
+the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways
+including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate,
+please visit: http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic
+works.
+
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg(tm)
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg(tm) eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg(tm) eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. unless
+a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks
+in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's eBook
+number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
+compressed (zipped), HTML and others.
+
+Corrected _editions_ of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
+the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed.
+_Versions_ based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving
+new filenames and etext numbers.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+    http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg(tm),
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/42052-8.zip b/42052-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ea1e3d4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/42052-8.zip
diff --git a/42052-h.zip b/42052-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a66986c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/42052-h.zip
diff --git a/42052-h/42052-h.html b/42052-h/42052-h.html
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a0366e5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/42052-h/42052-h.html
@@ -0,0 +1,3625 @@
+<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?>
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC '-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN' 'http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd'>
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" />
+<meta name="generator" content="Docutils 0.8.1: http://docutils.sourceforge.net/" />
+<style type="text/css">
+/* 
+Project Gutenberg common docutils stylesheet.
+
+This stylesheet contains styles common to HTML and EPUB.  Put styles
+that are specific to HTML and EPUB into their relative stylesheets.
+
+:Author: Marcello Perathoner (webmaster@gutenberg.org)
+:Copyright: This stylesheet has been placed in the public domain.
+
+This stylesheet is based on:
+
+  :Author: David Goodger (goodger@python.org)
+  :Copyright: This stylesheet has been placed in the public domain.
+
+  Default cascading style sheet for the HTML output of Docutils.
+
+*/
+
+/* ADE 1.7.2 chokes on !important and throws all css out. */
+
+/* FONTS */
+
+.italics    { font-style: italic }
+.no-italics { font-style: normal }
+
+.bold       { font-weight: bold }
+.no-bold    { font-weight: normal }
+
+.small-caps { } /* Epub needs italics */
+.gesperrt   { } /* Epub needs italics */
+.antiqua    { font-style: italic } /* what else can we do ? */
+.monospaced { font-family: monospace }
+
+.smaller    { font-size: smaller }
+.larger     { font-size: larger }
+
+.xx-small   { font-size: xx-small }
+.x-small    { font-size: x-small }
+.small      { font-size: small }
+.medium     { font-size: medium }
+.large      { font-size: large }
+.x-large    { font-size: x-large }
+.xx-large   { font-size: xx-large }
+
+.text-transform-uppercase { text-transform: uppercase }
+.text-transform-lowercase { text-transform: lowercase }
+.text-transform-none      { text-transform: none }
+
+.red        { color: red }
+.green      { color: green }
+.blue       { color: blue }
+.yellow     { color: yellow }
+.white      { color: white }
+.gray       { color: gray }
+.black      { color: black }
+
+/* ALIGN */
+
+.left       { text-align: left }
+.justify    { text-align: justify }
+.center     { text-align: center; text-indent: 0 }
+.centerleft { text-align: center; text-indent: 0 }
+.right      { text-align: right;  text-indent: 0 }
+
+/* LINE HEIGHT */
+
+body        { line-height: 1.5 }
+p           { margin: 0; 
+	      text-indent: 2em }
+
+/* PAGINATION */
+
+.title, .subtitle     { page-break-after:  avoid }
+
+.container, .title, .subtitle, #pg-header            
+                      { page-break-inside: avoid }
+
+/* SECTIONS */
+
+body         { text-align: justify }
+
+p.pfirst, p.noindent { 
+    text-indent: 0 
+}
+
+.boxed         { border: 1px solid black; padding: 1em }
+.topic, .note  { margin: 5% 0; border: 1px solid black; padding: 1em }
+div.section    { clear: both }
+
+div.line-block       { margin: 1.5em 0 }  /* same leading as p */
+div.line-block.inner { margin: 0 0 0 10% }
+div.line             { margin-left: 20%; text-indent: -20%; }
+.line-block.noindent div.line { margin-left: 0; text-indent: 0; }
+
+hr.docutils          { margin: 1.5em 40%; border: none; border-bottom: 1px solid black; }
+div.transition       { margin: 1.5em 0 }
+
+.vfill, .vspace      { border: 0px solid white }
+
+.title               { margin: 1.5em 0 }
+.title.with-subtitle { margin-bottom: 0 }
+.subtitle            { margin: 1.5em 0 }
+
+/* header font style */
+/* http://dev.w3.org/csswg/css3-fonts/#propdef-font-size */
+
+h1.title                        { font-size: 200%; }  /* for book title only */
+h2.title, p.subtitle.level-1    { font-size: 150%; margin-top: 4.5em;  margin-bottom: 2em }
+h3.title, p.subtitle.level-2    { font-size: 120%; margin-top: 2.25em; margin-bottom: 1.25em }
+h4.title, p.subtitle.level-3    { font-size: 100%; margin-top: 1.5em;  margin-bottom: 1.5em;  font-weight: bold; }
+h5.title, p.subtitle.level-4    { font-size:  89%; margin-top: 1.87em; margin-bottom: 1.69em; font-style: italic; }
+h6.title, p.subtitle.level-5    { font-size:  60%; margin-top: 3.5em;  margin-bottom: 2.5em }
+
+/* title page */
+
+h1.title, p.subtitle.level-1,
+h2.title, p.subtitle.level-2    { text-align: center }
+
+#pg-header,
+h1.document-title               { margin: 10% 0 5% 0 }
+p.document-subtitle             { margin:  0  0 5% 0 }
+
+/* PG header and footer */
+#pg-machine-header { }
+#pg-produced-by { }
+
+li.toc-entry            { list-style-type: none }
+ul.open li, ol.open li  { margin-bottom: 1.5em }
+
+.attribution            { margin-top: 1.5em }
+
+.example-rendered { 
+    margin: 1em 5%; border: 1px dotted red;  padding: 1em; background-color: #ffd }
+.literal-block.example-source   { 
+    margin: 1em 5%; border: 1px dotted blue; padding: 1em; background-color: #eef }
+
+/* DROPCAPS */
+
+/* BLOCKQUOTES */
+
+blockquote { margin: 1.5em 10% }
+
+blockquote.epigraph { }
+
+blockquote.highlights { }
+
+div.local-contents { margin: 1.5em 10% }
+
+div.abstract { margin: 3em   10% }
+div.image    { margin: 1.5em  0  }
+div.caption  { margin: 1.5em  0 }
+div.legend   { margin: 1.5em  0 }
+
+.hidden { display: none }
+
+.invisible { visibility: hidden; color: white } /* white: mozilla print bug */
+
+a.toc-backref {
+  text-decoration: none ;
+  color: black }
+
+dl.docutils dd {
+  margin-bottom: 0.5em }
+
+div.figure { margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em }
+
+img { max-width: 100% }
+
+div.footer, div.header {
+  clear: both;
+  font-size: smaller }
+
+div.sidebar {
+  margin: 0 0 0.5em 1em ;
+  border: medium outset ;
+  padding: 1em ;
+  background-color: #ffffee ;
+  width: 40% ;
+  float: right ;
+  clear: right }
+
+div.sidebar p.rubric {
+  font-family: sans-serif ;
+  font-size: medium }
+
+ol.simple, ul.simple { margin: 1.5em 0 }
+
+ol.toc-list,    ul.toc-list    { padding-left:  0  }
+ol ol.toc-list, ul ul.toc-list { padding-left:  5% }
+
+ol.arabic {
+  list-style: decimal }
+
+ol.loweralpha {
+  list-style: lower-alpha }
+
+ol.upperalpha {
+  list-style: upper-alpha }
+
+ol.lowerroman {
+  list-style: lower-roman }
+
+ol.upperroman {
+  list-style: upper-roman }
+
+p.credits {
+  font-style: italic ;
+  font-size: smaller }
+
+p.label {
+  white-space: nowrap }
+
+p.rubric {
+  font-weight: bold ;
+  font-size: larger ;
+  color: maroon ;
+  text-align: center }
+
+p.sidebar-title {
+  font-family: sans-serif ;
+  font-weight: bold ;
+  font-size: larger }
+
+p.sidebar-subtitle {
+  font-family: sans-serif ;
+  font-weight: bold }
+
+p.topic-title, p.admonition-title {
+  font-weight: bold }
+
+pre.address {
+  margin-bottom: 0 ;
+  margin-top: 0 ;
+  font: inherit }
+
+.literal-block, .doctest-block {
+  margin-left: 2em ;
+  margin-right: 2em; }
+
+span.classifier {
+  font-family: sans-serif ;
+  font-style: oblique }
+
+span.classifier-delimiter {
+  font-family: sans-serif ;
+  font-weight: bold }
+
+span.interpreted {
+  font-family: sans-serif }
+
+span.option {
+  white-space: nowrap }
+
+span.pre {
+  white-space: pre }
+
+span.problematic {
+  color: red }
+
+span.section-subtitle {
+  /* font-size relative to parent (h1..h6 element) */
+  font-size: 100% }
+
+table { margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; border-spacing: 0 }
+table.align-left, table.align-right { margin-top: 0 }
+
+table.table                { border-collapse: collapse; }
+
+table.table.hrules-table thead          { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 2px 0 0 }
+table.table.hrules-table tbody          { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 2px 0 }
+table.table.hrules-rows  tr             { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 0 0 1px }
+table.table.hrules-rows  tr.last        { border-width: 0 }
+table.table.hrules-rows  td, 
+table.table.hrules-rows  th             { padding: 1ex 1em; vertical-align: middle }
+
+table.table tr             { border-width: 0 }
+table.table td, 
+table.table th             { padding: 0.5ex 1em }
+table.table tr.first td    { padding-top: 1ex }
+table.table tr.last td     { padding-bottom: 1ex }
+table.table tr.first th    { padding-top: 1ex }
+table.table tr.last th     { padding-bottom: 1ex }
+
+
+table.citation {
+  border-left: solid 1px gray;
+  margin-left: 1px }
+
+table.docinfo {
+  margin: 3em 4em }
+
+table.docutils { }
+
+div.footnote-group          { margin: 1em 0 }
+table.footnote td.label     { width: 2em; text-align: right; padding-left: 0 }
+
+table.docutils td, table.docutils th,
+table.docinfo td, table.docinfo th {
+  padding: 0 0.5em;
+  vertical-align: top }
+
+table.docutils th.field-name, table.docinfo th.docinfo-name {
+  font-weight: bold ;
+  text-align: left ;
+  white-space: nowrap ;
+  padding-left: 0 }
+
+/* used to remove borders from tables and images */
+.borderless, table.borderless td, table.borderless th {
+  border: 0 }
+
+table.borderless td, table.borderless th {
+  /* Override padding for "table.docutils td" with "!important".
+     The right padding separates the table cells. */
+  padding: 0 0.5em 0 0 } /* FIXME: was !important */
+
+h1 tt.docutils, h2 tt.docutils, h3 tt.docutils,
+h4 tt.docutils, h5 tt.docutils, h6 tt.docutils {
+  font-size: 100% }
+
+ul.auto-toc {
+  list-style-type: none }
+</style>
+<style type="text/css">
+/* 
+Project Gutenberg HTML docutils stylesheet.
+
+This stylesheet contains styles specific to HTML.
+*/
+
+/* FONTS */
+
+/* em                { font-style: normal }
+strong            { font-weight: normal } */
+
+.small-caps       { font-variant: small-caps }
+.gesperrt         { letter-spacing: 0.1em }
+
+/* ALIGN */
+
+.align-left       { clear: left;
+		    float: left;
+		    margin-right: 1em }
+
+.align-right      { clear: right;
+		    float: right;
+		    margin-left: 1em }
+
+.align-center     { margin-left: auto;
+		    margin-right: auto }
+
+div.shrinkwrap    { display: table; }
+
+/* SECTIONS */
+
+body              { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% }
+
+/* compact list items containing just one p */
+li p.pfirst       { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } 
+
+.first            { margin-top: 0 !important; 
+		    text-indent: 0 !important } 
+.last             { margin-bottom: 0 !important }
+
+span.dropcap      { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 }
+img.dropcap       { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% }
+span.dropspan     { font-variant: small-caps }
+
+.no-page-break    { page-break-before: avoid !important }
+
+/* PAGINATION */
+
+@media screen {
+   .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage
+                       { margin: 10% 0; }
+
+   div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage
+                       { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; }
+
+   .vfill              { margin:  5% 10% }
+}
+
+@media print {
+   div.clearpage       { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% }
+   div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right;  padding-top: 10%  }
+
+   .vfill              { margin-top: 20% }
+   h2.title            { margin-top: 20% }
+}
+
+</style>
+<title>THE GOLDEN HELM</title>
+<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" />
+<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Golden Helm" />
+<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" />
+<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" />
+<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Wilfrid Wilson Gibson" />
+<meta name="DC.Created" content="1903" />
+<meta name="PG.Id" content="42052" />
+<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-02-08" />
+<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" />
+<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Golden Helm and Other Verse" />
+
+<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" />
+<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" />
+<meta content="The Golden Helm&#10;and Other Verse" name="DCTERMS.title" />
+<meta content="helm.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" />
+<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" />
+<meta content="2013-02-09T03:08:12.548064+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" />
+<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" />
+<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" />
+<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42052" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" />
+<meta content="Wilfrid Wilson Gibson" name="DCTERMS.creator" />
+<meta content="2013-02-08" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" />
+<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" />
+<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a5 by Marcello Perathoner &lt;webmaster@gutenberg.org&gt;" name="generator" />
+<style type="text/css">
+.pageno       { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 }
+.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' }
+.lineno       { position: absolute; left:  95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 }
+.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' }
+.toc-pageref  { float: right }
+pre           { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap }
+</style>
+</head>
+<body>
+<div class="document" id="the-golden-helm">
+<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE GOLDEN HELM</span></h1>
+
+<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet -->
+<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats -->
+<!-- default transition -->
+<!-- default attribution -->
+<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- -->
+<div class="clearpage">
+</div>
+<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- -->
+<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>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 </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span>
+included with this eBook or online at
+</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header">
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Golden Helm
+<br />       and Other Verse
+<br />
+<br />Author: Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
+<br />
+<br />Release Date: February 08, 2013 [EBook #42052]
+<br />
+<br />Language: English
+<br />
+<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE GOLDEN HELM</span><span> ***</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="align-None container coverpage">
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 50%" id="figure-10">
+<span id="cover"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover" src="images/img-cover.jpg" />
+<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin">
+<span class="italics">Cover</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="align-None container titlepage">
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">THE
+<br />GOLDEN HELM
+<br />AND OTHER VERSE</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY
+<br />WILFRID WILSON GIBSON</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">LONDON
+<br />ELKIN MATHEWS, VIGO STREET
+<br />1903</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="align-None container dedication">
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">TO
+<br />HOWARD PEASE</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">BY THE SAME WRITER</em></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">URLYN THE HARPER AND OTHER SONG</em><span class="medium">
+<br /></span><em class="italics medium">THE QUEEN'S VIGIL AND OTHER SONG</em></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Thanks are due to Messrs. Smith, Elder, &amp; Co., for
+permission to reprint "The King's Death," "The Three
+Kings," and the first part of "Averlaine and Arkeld,"
+from </span><em class="italics">The Cornhill Magazine</em><span>; to the editor of
+</span><em class="italics">Macmillan's Magazine</em><span> for leave to reprint "In the Valley";
+to the editor of </span><em class="italics">The Saturday Review</em><span> for leave to
+reprint "Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière"; and to the
+editors of </span><em class="italics">The Pilot, The Outlook, The Pall Mall Gazette,
+Country Life, The Week's Survey</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">The Broadsheet</em><span>,
+for like courtesy with regard to a number of "The Songs
+of Queen Averlaine."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">Contents</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-torch">The Torch</a><span>
+<br /></span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-unknown-knight">The Unknown Knight</a><span>
+<br /></span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-king-s-death">The King's Death</a><span>
+<br /></span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-knight-of-the-wood">The Knight of the Wood</a><span>
+<br /></span><a class="reference internal" href="#notre-dame-de-la-belle-verriere">Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière</a><span>
+<br /></span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-the-valley">In the Valley</a><span>
+<br /></span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-vision-a-christmas-mystery">The Vision: a Christmas Mystery</a><span>
+<br /></span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-three-kings">The Three Kings</a><span>
+<br /></span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-songs-of-queen-averlaine">The Songs of Queen Averlaine</a><span>
+<br /></span><a class="reference internal" href="#id1">The Golden Helm</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-torch"><span class="large">The Torch</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Through skies blown clear by storm, o'er storm-spent seas,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Day kindled pale with promise of full noon</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of blue unclouded; no night-weary wind</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Ruffled the slumberous, heaving deeps to white,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though round the Farne Isles the waves never sink</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In foamless sleep--about the pillared crags</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For ever circling with unresting spray.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>At dawn's first glimmer, from his island-cell--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Rock-hewn, secure from tempest--Oswald came</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With slow and weary step, white-faced and worn</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With night-long vigil for storm-perilled souls.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His anxious eye with sharp foreboding bright--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He scanned the treacherous flood; the long froth-trail</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That marks the lurking reefs; the jag-toothed chasms</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Which, foaming, gape at night beneath the keel--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The mouth of hell to storm-bewildered ships:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But no scar-stranded vessel met his glance.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Relieved, he drank the glistering calm of morn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With nostril keen and warm lips parted wide;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While, gradually, the sun-enkindled air</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Quickened his pallid cheek with youthful flame,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though lonely years had silvered his dark head,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And round his eyes had woven shadow-meshes.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Clearly he caught the ever-clamorous cries</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of guillemot and puffin from afar,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Where, canopied by hovering, white wings,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>They crowded naked pinnacles of rock.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He watched, with eyes of glistening tenderness,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The brooding eider--Cuthbert's sacred bird,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That bears among the isles his saintly name--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Breast the calm waves; a black, wet-gleaming fin</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Cleft the blue waters with a foaming jag,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Where, close behind the restless herring-herd,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With ravening maw of death, the porpoise sped.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Oswald, light-tranced, dreamed in the sun awhile;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Till, suddenly, as some old sorrow starts,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though years have glided by with soothing lull,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The gust of ancient longing rent his bliss:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His narrow isle, as by some darkling spell,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>More narrow shrank; the gulls' unceasing cries</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Grew still more fretful; and his hermit-life</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A sea-scourged desolation to him seemed.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The holy tree of peace--which he had dreamt</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Would flourish in the wilderness afresh,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Upspringing ever in new ecstasy</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of branching beauty and white blooms of truth,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Till its star-tangling crest should cleave the sky,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And angels rustle through its topmost boughs--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Seemed sapless, rootless.  Through his quivering limbs</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His famine-wasted youth to life upleapt</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With passionate yearning for humanity:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The stir of towns; the jostling of glad throngs;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Welcoming faces and warm-clasping hands;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yea, even for the lips and eyes of Love</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He hungered with keen pangs of old desire:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, if for him these might not be, he craved</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>At least the exultation of swift peril--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The red-foamed riot of delirious strife</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That rears a bloody crest o'er peaceful shires,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, slaying, in a swirl of slaughter dies.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With brow uplifted and strained, pulsing throat,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And salt-parched lips out-thrust, unto the sun</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He stretched beseeching hands, as though he sought</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To snatch some glittering disaster thence.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>One moment radiant thus; and then once more</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His arms dropped listless, and he slowly shrank</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within his sea-stained habit, cowering dark</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Amid the azure blaze of sea and sky.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, stirring, with impatient step he moved</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Across the isle to where the rocky shore,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Forming a little, crag-encircled bay,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Sloped steeply to the level of the sea;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But, as he neared the edges of the tide,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Startled, he paused, as, marvelling, he saw</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A woman on the shelving, wet, black rock,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Lying, forlorn, among the storm-wrack, white</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And motionless; still wet, her raiment clung</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>About her limbs, and with her wet, gold hair</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Green sea-weed tangled.  Oswald on her looked</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Amazed, as one who, in a sea-born trance,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Discovers the lone spirit of the storm,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Self-spent at last, and sunk in dreamless slumber</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within some caverned gloom.  Coldly he watched</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The little waves creep up the glistening rock,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, faltering, slide once more into the deep,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As though they feared to waken her: at length,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When one, more venturous, about her stole,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And moved her heavy hair as if with life,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He shuddered; and a lightning-knowledge struck</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His heart with fear; and in a flash he knew</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That no sea-phantom couched before him lay,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But some frail fellow-creature, tempest-tost,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Hung yet in peril on the edge of death,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her weak life slipping from the saving grasp</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While he delayed.  He sprang through plashy weed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O'er slippery ridges, to the rock whereon</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She lay with upturned face and close-shut eyes--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>One hand across her breast, the other dipped</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within a shallow pool of emerald water,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With blue-veined fingers clutching the red fronds</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of frail sea-weed.  Then Oswald, bending, felt</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Upon his cheek the feeble breath that still</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Fluttered between the pallid, parted lips.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In trembling haste, he loosed the sodden cords</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That bound her to a spar; and with hot hands</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He chafed her icy limbs, until the glow</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of life returned.  With fitful quivering</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The white lids opened; and she looked on him</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With dull, unwondering eyes whose deep-sea blue</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The gloom of death's late passing shadowed yet;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When suddenly light thrilled them, and bright fear</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Flashed from their depths, and, with a little gasp,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She strove to rise; but Oswald with quick words</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Calmed her weak terror, and she sank once more,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Closing her eyes; and, gently lifting her</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within his arms--her gold hair hanging straight</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And heavy with sea-water, as he plunged</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Knee-deep through pools of crackling bladder-weed--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He bore her, unresisting, o'er the isle</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unto the rock-built shelter he had reared,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Some little way apart from his own cell,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For storm-stayed fishers or wrecked mariners.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He laid her on a bed of withered bents,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And ministered to her with gentle hands</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And ceaseless care; till, wrapped in warm, deep sleep,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She sank oblivious.  Silently he placed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His island-fare beside her on the board,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Lest she should wake in need; then, with hushed step,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He turned to go; but, ere he reached the door,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He paused, and looked again towards the bed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As though he feared his strange sea-guest might flee</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Like some wild spirit, born of wondering foam,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That wins from man the shelter of his breast,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, on a night of moon-enchanted tides,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Leaps with shrill laughter to its native seas,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Bearing his soul within its glistening arms,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To drown his peace on earth and hope of heaven</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In cold eternities of lightless deeps.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But still in dreamless sleep the stranger lay,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With parted lips and breathing soft and calm;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>About her head unloosed, her hair outshone,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Among the grey-green bents, like fine, red gold.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>So beautiful she was that Oswald, pierced</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With quivering rapture, dared no longer bide,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But, with quick fingers, softly raised the latch,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And stumbled o'er the threshold.  As he went,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A flock of sea-gulls from the bent-thatched roof</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Rose, querulous, and round him, wheeling, swept,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With creaking wings and cold, black eyes agleam;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet Oswald saw them not, nor heard their cries;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Nor saw he, as he paced the eastern crags,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>How, round the Farnes, the dreaming ocean lay</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In broad, unshadowed, sapphire ecstasy,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That glowed to noon through slow, uncounted hours.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His early gloom had vanished; time and space</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And earth and sea no longer compassed him;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>One thought alone consumed him--beauty slept</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within the shelter of his hermitage,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Upon grey, rustling bents, with golden hair.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He roamed, unresting, till the copper sun</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Sank in a steel-grey sea, and earth and sky</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Were strewn with shadows--wavering and dim--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To weave a pathway for the dawning moon,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That she, from night's oblivion, might create</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With the cold spell of her enchantments old</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A phantom earth with magical, bright seas,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A vaster heaven of unrevealed stars.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unmoving, on a headland of swart crag</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That jutted gaunt and sharp against the night,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Stood Oswald, cowled and silent.  Hour by hour</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He gazed across the sea, which nothing shadowed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Save where--now dim, now white--a lonely sail</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Hung, restless, o'er a fisher's barren toil.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet Oswald saw nor sail nor moon nor sea:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His heart kept vigil by the little house</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Wherein the stranger slumbered; and it seemed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His life, by some strange power within him stayed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Awaited the unlatching of the door.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>But now, within the hut, the sleeper dreamt</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of foaming caverns and o'erwhelming waters;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, shuddering awake, awhile she lay,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And watched the moonlight, cold and white, which poured</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Through the warm dusk, from the high window-slit;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When, all at once, the strangeness of the room</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Closed in upon her with bewildering dread.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She stirred; the bents, beneath her, rustled strange;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She started in affright, and, swaying, stood</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within the streaming moonlight, till, at last,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In memory, once more disaster swept</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Over her life, and left her, desolate,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Upon bleak crags of alien seas unknown.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet, through the tumult of tempestuous dark,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Above the echo of despairing cries,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A calm voice sounded; and beyond the whirl</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of foaming death, wherein she caught the gleam</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of well-loved faces drowning in cold seas,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A living face shone out--a beacon clear:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then numbing fear fell from her, and she moved,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unlatched the door, and stole into the night.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>One moment, dazzled by the full-moon glare,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She paused, a shivering form within the wide</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And glittering desolation--lone and frail.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But Oswald, watchful on the eastern scars,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Seeing her, forward came with eager pace</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To meet her; and, as he drew swiftly near,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His cowl fell backward; and she knew again</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The face that calmed the terrors of her dreams.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet, with the knowledge, through her being stole,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Vague fear more strange, more impotent than the blind</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unquestioning dread when death had round her stormed;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>No peril of the body could arouse</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Such ecstasy of terror in her soul,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Which seemed upborne upon the shivering crest</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of some great wave, just curving, ere it crash</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Upon the crags of time.  Yet, though she feared</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When Oswald paused, uncertain, quick she spake,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As though she sought to parry doom with words.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She questioned him--scarce heeding his replies--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>How she had hither come; when, suddenly,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Sped by her fluttering words, the last, dim cloud</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Rolled from her memory, and she saw revealed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within a pitiless glare of naked light</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The utmost horror of her desolation.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Mute with despair, she stood with parted lips,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And then cried fiercely: "Hath the sea upcast</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>None other on this shore?  Am I, alone,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of all my kin who sailed in that doomed ship,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Flung back to life?"  And as, with piteous glance,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He answered her: "Ah God, that I, with them,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Had died!  O traitor cords that held too sure</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>My body to the broken spar of life!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O feeble seas, that fumed in such wild wrath,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet could not quench so frail a thing as I!"</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With passionate step, across the isle she ran,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And leapt from crag to crag, until she stood</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Upon a dizzy scar that jutted sheer</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Above low-lapping waves.  Then once again</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her moaning cry was heard among the Isles:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>"O bitter waters, give them back to me!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>You shall not keep them; all your waves of woe</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Cannot withhold from me those dauntless lives</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That were my life.  Surely they cannot rest</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Without me; even from your unfathomed graves</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Surely my love will draw them to my arms!"</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As though in tremulous expectation tranced,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She yearned, with arms outstretched; as dawn arose</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Exultant from the sea, and with clear rays</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Kindled her wind-tost hair to streaming flame.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Awhile she stood, then, moaning, slowly sank</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Upon the crag; and Oswald came to her</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With words of comfort which unloosed her pent</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And aching woe in swift, tumultuous tears.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Oswald, in silent anguish, drew apart,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Gazing, unseeing, o'er the dawning waves;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Until at last the tempest of her grief,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In low and fitful sobbing, spent itself;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When, turning to him, once again she spake,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, shuddering, with faltering voice, outpoured</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The tale of her despair: and Oswald heard</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>How she, who sat thus strangely by his side,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Marna, a sea-earl's daughter, had besought</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her father, when the old sea-hunger lit</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His eyes--as waves shot through with stormy fight--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For leave to bear him company but once,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When, with his sons, he rode the adventurous seas;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>How he had yielded with reluctant love;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And how, from out the firth of some far strand,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Their galley rode, beneath a flaming dawn;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>How her young heart had leapt to see the sails</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unfurled to take the wind, as, one by one,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Toil-glistening rowers shipped the dripping oars,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And loosened every sheet before the breeze;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>How, as the ship with timbers all astrain,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Leapt to mid-sea, through Marna's body thrilled</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A kindred rapture, and there came to her</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The sheer, delirious joy of them true-born</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To wander with the foam--each creaking cord</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That tugged the quivering mast unto her singing</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of unknown shores and far, enchanted lands,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Beyond the blue horizon; how, all day,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>They rode, undaunted, through the spinning surf;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But, as the sun dipped, in the cold, grey tide,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The wind, that since the dawn with steady speed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Had filled the sails, now came in fitful gusts,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Fierce and yet fiercer, till the sullen waves</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Were lashed to anger, and the waters leapt</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To tussle with the furies of the air;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And how the ship, in the encounter caught,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Was tossed on crests of swirling dark, or dropped</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Between o'er-toppling walls of whelming night;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>How in those hours--too dread for thought or speech--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her father's hand had bound her to a spar;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, even as--the cord between his teeth--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He tugged the last knot sure, the vessel crashed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Upon a cleaving scar; and she but saw</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The strong, pale faces looking upon death,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Before the fierce, exultant waters closed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With cold oblivion o'er them; and no more</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She knew, until she waked within the hut,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To find her world, in one disastrous night,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In one swift surge of roaring darkness, swept</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From her young feet; her kindred, home and friends,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And all familiar hopes and joys and fears</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Dropt like a garment from her life, which now</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Stood naked on the edge of some new world</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of unknown terrors.</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Oswald heard her tale</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>With pitying glance; yet in his eyes arose</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A strange, new light, which as each gust of grief</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Shook out the fluttering words, more brightly burned;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>So that, when Marna ceased, it seemed to her</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That he, in holy contemplation rapt,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Had heeded not her woe; and from her heart</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Burst out a cry: "Ah God, I am alone!"</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But, stung by her shrill anguish, Oswald waked</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From his bright reverie, and his shining eyes</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Darkened with swift compassion, as he turned</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, trembling, spake: "Nay, not alone..."</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Then mute</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>He stood--his pale lips clenched--as though within</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>There surged a torrent which he dared not loose.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Marna looked wondering up; but, when her eyes</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Saw the white passion of his face, her soul</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Was tossed once more on crests of unknown fears;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet rapture warred with terror in her heart;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She trembled, and her breath came short and quick.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She dared not raise her eyes again to his,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Till, on her straining ears, his words, once more,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Fell, slow and cold and clear as water dripping</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Between locked sluice-gates: "Nothing need you fear.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Beyond the sea of unknown terrors lie</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>White havens of an undiscovered peace.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For even this bleak, scar-embattled coast</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>May yield safe harbour to the storm-spent soul.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Your world has fallen from you that you may</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Enter another world, more beautiful,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Built 'neath the shadow of the throne of God.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>There shall you find new friends, who yet will seem</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Familiar to your eyes, because their souls</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Have passed through kindred perils and despairs."</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He ceased; and silence, trembling, 'twixt them hung;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Till Marna, gazing yet across the sea,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Rent it with words: "Where may I find this peace?"</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And Oswald answered: "In an inland dale</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The Sisters of the Cross await your coming,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With ever-open gate.  Within seven days,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>My brethren from the mainland will put out,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Bringing me food; on their return with them</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>You may embark.  Till then, this barren rock</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Must be your home."  Exultant light once more</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Leapt, flashing, in the depths of his dark eyes.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet Marna looked not up, but, slowly, spake:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>"Yea, I must go....  But you...."</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Then in dismay</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>She stopped, as though the thought had slipped unknown</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From her full heart; but Oswald caught the words,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And spake with hard, quick speech, as if to baffle</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Some doubt that strove within him: "On this Isle</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I bide, till God shall kindle my weak soul</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To burn, a beacon o'er His lonely seas."</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Once more he paused; and perilous silence swayed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Between them, until Oswald, quaking, rose,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As one who dared no longer rest beneath</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O'er-toppling doom.  Yet, with calm voice, he spake:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>"Even within this wilderness abides</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Such beauty that, in your brief sojourn here,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Your soul shall starve not; all about you sweeps</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The ever-changing wonder of the sea;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But if, too full of bitter memories,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The bright waves darken, you may lift your eyes</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To watch the swooping gull; the flashing tern;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The stately cormorant and the kittiwake--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Most beautiful of all the island-birds;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Or, if your woman's heart should crave some grace</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>More exquisite, see, frail bell-campions blow,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As foam-flowers on the shallow, sandy turf."</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As thus he spake, a light in Marna's eyes</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Arose, and sorrow left her for awhile:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And she with bright glance questioned him, and watched</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The hovering gulls, and plucked the snowy blooms,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With little cries at each discovered beauty.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet Oswald by her side walked silently,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And watched, as one struck mute with anguished fear,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her eager eyes, and heard her chattering words.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, suddenly, he left her, but returned</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within the hour, with faltering step, and spake</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With tremulous voice: "We two must part awhile;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For I must keep lone vigil in my cell</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Six days and nights, with fasting and with prayer;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Meanwhile, within the little hut for you</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Are food and shelter till the brethren come.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When I must give you over to their care."</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Marna, with wondering heart, looked up at him;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But such a wild light flickered in his eyes</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She dared not speak; and, shuddering, he turned,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And strode back swiftly to the hermitage.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Marna looked after him with yearning gaze,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As though her heart would have her call him back,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet her lips moved not; motionless, she watched</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Until he passed from sight; then, sinking low</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Among the flowers, she wept, she knew not why.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>And, as the door closed on him, Oswald fell</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Prone on the cold, black, vigil-furrowed rock</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That paved his narrow cell; and long he lay</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As in the clutch of some dread waking-trance,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Nor stirred until the shadows into night</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Were woven.  Then unto his feet he leapt</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With this wild cry: "O God, why hast Thou sent</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>This scourge most bitter for my naked soul?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I feared not storm nor solitude, O God;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I shrank not from the tempest of Thy wrath;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though oft my weak soul wavered, trampled o'er</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>By deedless hours, and yearned unto the world,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Ever afresh Thy love hath bound me fast</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unto this island of Thy lonely seas;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And I, who deemed that I at last might reach--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I who had come through all--Thy golden haven,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Knew not Thy hand withheld this last despair,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>This scourge most bitter, being most beautiful."</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then on his knees he sank, and tried to pray</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Before the Virgin's shrine, where ever burned</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His votive taper with unfailing light.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But when his lips would breathe the holy name,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His heart cried: "Marna!  Marna!"  Every pulse</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Throbbed "Marna!"  And his body shook and swayed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As though it strove to utter that one word,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And cry it once unto eternal stars,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though it should perish crying.  Through the cell</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The silence murmured: "Marna!"  And without</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A lone gull wailed it to the windy night.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He lifted his wild eyes, and in the shrine</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He saw the face of Marna, which outburned</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The flickering taper; on the gloom up-surged,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Foam-white, the face of Marna; till the dark</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Flowed pitiful o'er him, and on the stone</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He sank unconscious.  Night went slowly by,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And pale dawn stole in silence through his cell;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, in the light of morn, the taper died,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With feeble guttering; yet he never stirred,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though noonday waxed and waned.</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>But Marna roamed</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>All night beneath the stars.  To her it seemed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That not until the closing of the door</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Had all hope perished: now death tore, afresh,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her father and her brothers from her arms.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>By day and night and under sun and moon</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She roamed unresting--seeing, heeding naught--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Till weariness o'ercame her, and she slept;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, as she slumbered, snowy-plumed peace</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Nestled within her heart; and, when she waked,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She only yearned for that dim, cloistral calm,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Embosomed deep in some bough-sheltered vale,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Whither the boat must bear her.</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>In his cell,</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>As night paled slowly to the seventh morn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Oswald arose--the fire within his eyes</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet more intense, more fierce.  With eager hand</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He clutched the latch, and, flinging wide the door,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He strode into the dawn.  One moment, dazed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As though bewildered by the light, he paused;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But, when his glance in restless roving fell</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>On Marna, standing on the western crag</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Against the setting moon, beneath the dawn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His passion surged upon him, and he shook;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, springing madly forth, he, stumbling, ran,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, falling at her feet upon the rock,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His voice rang out in fearful exultation:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>"You shall not go!  I cannot let you go!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Has not the tumult tossed you to my breast?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yea, and not all the storms of all the seas</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Shall drag you from me!  Nay, you shall not go!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For we will live together on this isle</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Which time has builded in the deeps for us--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>We two together, one in ecstasy,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Throughout eternity; for time shall fall</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From off us; and the world shall be no more:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And God, if God should stand between us now..."</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Faltering, he paused; and Marna stood, afraid,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Quaking before him; but she spake no word.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Across the waters came the plash of oars;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But Oswald heard them not, and once more cried:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>"You will not go--thrusting me back to death?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For now I know the strange, new thing you brought</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For me from out the storm was life--yea, life;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And I am one arisen from the grave.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>You will not thrust me back and take again</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That which you came through storm to bring to me?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>You will not go?  I cannot let you go!"</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>He ceased; and now the even plash of oars</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Came clearer.  One dread moment Marna stood</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Swaying; then, stretching forth her arms, she cried:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>"Ah God!  Ah God!  Why hath Thy cold hand set</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>This doom upon me?  Must I ever bear</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Death and disaster unto whom I love?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Oh, is it not enough that, 'neath the wave,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Because I sought to bear them company,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>My father and my brothers lie in death?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But this--ah God--that it should come to this!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Must I bear ever death within my hands?"</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>She paused one moment, with wild-heaving breast;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, turning unto Oswald, spake again,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With softer voice: "But you--have you no pity?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>You who are but God's servant--surely you</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Have pity on my weakness.  From this doom</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Which overhangs me you must set me free.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>You say I brought you life; but in me lies</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For you--the priest of God--a death more deep</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Than all the drowning fathoms of the sea.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I go, that you may live.  If life indeed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I brought you, I was but the torch of God</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To kindle the clear flame of your strong soul</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To burn, a beacon o'er His lonely seas."</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She ceased, with arms outstretched and lighted eyes.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As on some holy vision Oswald gazed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In rapt, adoring fear; nor spake, nor stirred.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Near, and yet nearer, drew the plash of oars;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, turning in the boat, the brethren looked</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With wondering eyes upon them, whispering: "Lo,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Some seraph-messenger of God most high</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Tarries with Oswald.  See the strange new peace</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That burns his face like a white altar-flame.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Not yet must we draw near, lest our weak sight</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Be blinded by that glory of gold hair</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That gleams so strangely in the light of dawn."</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-unknown-knight"><span class="large">The Unknown Knight</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>When purple gloomed the wintry ridge</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Against the sunset's windy flame,</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>From pine-browed hills, along the bridge,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>An unknown rider came.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>I watched him idly from the tower.</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Though he nor looked nor raised his head;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>I felt my life before him cower</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>In dumb, foreboding dread.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>I saw him to the portal win</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Unchallenged, and no lackey stirred</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>To take his bridle when within</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>He strode without a word.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Through all the house he passed unstayed,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Until he reached my father's door;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>The hinge shrieked out like one afraid;</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Then silence fell once more.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>All night I hear the chafing ice</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Float, griding, down the swollen stream;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>I lie fast-held in terror's vice,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Nor dare to think or dream.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>I only know the unknown knight</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Keeps vigil by my father's bed:</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>Oh, who shall wake to see the light</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Flame all the east with red?</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-king-s-death"><span class="large">The King's Death</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">The sleeping-chamber of the King: a candle burns
+dimly by the curtained bed.  The arras parts, and
+two slaves enter with daggers.  A storm of wind rages
+without.</em></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>FIRST SLAVE: He sleeps.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>SECOND SLAVE: He sleeps, whom only death shall rouse</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To dread unsleeping in another world.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>FIRST SLAVE: How long the careful night has kept him wakeful,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As if sleep loathed to snare him for our knives!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>SECOND SLAVE: Yea, we have crouched so close in quaking dark</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I scarce can lift my sword-arm: strike you first.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>FIRST SLAVE: The heavy waiting hours have crushed my strength;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The hate that burst to such an eager flame</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within my heart has smouldered to dull ash,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Which pity breathes to scatter.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>SECOND SLAVE: Knows he pity?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>FIRST SLAVE: Nay, he is throned above his slaughtered kin,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A reeking sword his sceptre.  He has broken,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As one across the knee a faggot snaps,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Strong lives to feed the blaze of his ambition;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet shall a slave's hand strike cold death in him</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For whom kings sweat like slaves?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>SECOND SLAVE: Yea, at the stroke</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>One slave lies dead--a hundred kings are born;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For every man that breathes will be a king;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Vast empires, beaten-dust beneath his feet,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Will rise again and teem with kingly men,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When he, their death, is dead</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>FIRST SLAVE: How still he sleeps!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The tempest shrieks to wake him, yet he slumbers.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As seas that foam against unyielding scars,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The mad wind storms the castle, wall and tower,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And is not spent.  Hark, it has found a breach--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Some latch unloosed--the house is full of wind;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>It rushes, wailing, down the corridor;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>It seeks the King; it cries on him to waken;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Now 'tis without, and shakes the rattling bolt;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Lo, it has broken in, in little gusts,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I feel it in my hair; 'twill lay cold fingers</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Upon his lips, and start him from his sleep.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>See, it has whipt the yellow flame to smoke.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>SECOND SLAVE: And now it fails; the heavy, hanging gold</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That shelters him from night is all unstirred.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>FIRST SLAVE: Even the wind must pause.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>SECOND SLAVE: 'Twas but a breeze</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To blow our sinking courage to clear fire.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Too long we loiter; soon the approaching day</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Will take us, slaves who grasp the arms of men</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet dare not plunge them save in our own breasts.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Come, let us strike!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>(</span><em class="italics">They approach the bed and draw aside the curtain.</em><span>)</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>FIRST SLAVE: The King--how still he sleeps!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Can majesty in such calm slumber lie?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>SECOND SLAVE: Come, falter not, strike home!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>FIRST SLAVE: Hold, hold your hand,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For death has stolen a march upon our hate;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He does not breathe.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>SECOND SLAVE: The stars have wrought for us,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And we are conquerors with unbloodied hands.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>FIRST SLAVE: Nay, nay, for in our thoughts his life was spilt;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While yet our bodies lagged in fettered fear,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Our shafted breath sped on and stabbed his sleep.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Oh, red for all the world, across our brows,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Our murderous thoughts have burned the brand of Cain.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>See, through the window stares the pitiless day!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-knight-of-the-wood"><span class="large">The Knight of the Wood</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"I fear the Knight of the Wood," she said</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>"For him may no man overthrow.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Where boughs are matted thick o'erhead,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>There gleams, amid the shadows dread,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The terror of his armour red;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And all men fear him, high and low;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet all must through the forest go."</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>She paused awhile where larches flame</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>About the borders of the wood;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, crying loud on Love's high name</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To keep her maiden-heart from shame,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She entered, and full-swiftly came</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Where, hooded with a scarlet hood,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A rider in her pathway stood.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>She saw the gleam of armour red;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She saw the fiery pennon wave</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Its flaming terror overhead</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>'Mid writhing boughs and shadows dread.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>"Ah God," she cried: "that I were dead,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And laid for ever in my grave!"</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, swooning, called on Love to save.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Among the springing fern she fell,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And very nigh to death she lay;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Till, like the fading of a spell</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>At ringing of the matin-bell,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The darkness left her; by a well</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She waked beneath the open day,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And rose to go upon her way;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>When, once again, the ruddy light</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of arms she saw, and turned to flee;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But clutching brambles stayed her flight;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While, marvelling, she saw the Knight</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unhooded; and his eyes were bright</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With April colours of the sea;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And crowned as a King was he.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>She knelt before him in the ferns,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And sang: "O Lord of Love, I bow</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Before thy shield, where blazoned burns</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The flaming heart with light that turns</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The night to day.  O heart that yearns</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For love, lo, Love before thee now--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The wild-wood knight with crownèd brow!"</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="notre-dame-de-la-belle-verriere"><span class="large">Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Above Thy halo's burning blue</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For ever hovers the White Dove;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Thy heart enshrines, for ever new,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The Cross--the Crown of all Thy love;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While, sapphire wing on sapphire wing,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>About Thee choiring angels swing</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Gold censers, and bright candles bear.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Because I have no heart to sing,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I come to Thee with all my care,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière.</em></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Because the sword hath pierced Thy side,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Thy brows are crowned with circling gold.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The woe of all the world doth hide</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within Thy mantle's azure fold.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Because Thou, too, hast dwelt with fears,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Through lingering days and endless years,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I find no comfort otherwhere,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Our Lady beautiful with tears,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Our Lady sorrowfully fair,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière.</em></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>My feet have travelled the hot road</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Between the poppies' barren fires;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But now I cast aside the load</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of burning hopes and wild desires</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That ever fierce and fiercer grew.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Thy peace falls like a falling dew</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Upon me as I kneel in prayer,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Because Thou hast known sorrow, too,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Because Thou, too, hast known despair,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière.</em></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="in-the-valley"><span class="large">In the Valley</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Love, take my hand, and look not with sad eyes</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Through the valley-shades: for us, the mountains rise;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Beneath the cold, blue-cleaving peaks of snow</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Like flame the April-blossomed almonds blow--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Spring-grace and winter-glory intertwined</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within the glittering web that colour weaves.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">Yet who are they who troop so close behind</em></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">With raiment rustling like frost-withered leaves</em></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">That burden winter-winds with ever-restless sighs?</em></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Love, look not back, nor ever hearken more</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To murmuring shades; for us, the river-shore</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Is lit with dew-hung daffodils that gleam</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>On either side the tawny, foaming stream</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That bears through April with triumphal song</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Dissolving winter to the brimming sea.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">Yet who are they who, ever-whispering, throng,</em></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">With lean, grey lips that shudder piteously,</em></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">As if from some bright fruit of bitter-tasting core?</em></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Nay, look not back, for, lo, in trancèd light</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Love stays awhile his world-encircling flight</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To wait our coming from the valley-ways;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>See where, a hovering fire amid the blaze,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He pants aflame with irised plumes unfurled</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Above the utmost pinnacle of noon.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">Yet who are they who wander through the world</em></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">Like weary clouds about a wintry moon,</em></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">With wan, bewildered brows that bear eternal night?</em></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Love, look not back, nor fill thy heart with woe</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of old, sad loves that perished long ago;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For ever after living lovers tread</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Pale, yearning ghosts of all earth's lovers dead.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A little while with life we lead the train</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Ere we, too, follow, cold, some breathing love.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">I fear their fevered eyes and hands that strain</em></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">To snatch our joy that flutters bright above,</em></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">To shadow with grey death its ruddy, pulsing glow.</em></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Love, look not back in this life-crowning hour</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When all our love breaks into perfect flower</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Beneath the kindling heights of frozen time.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Come, Love, that we with happy haste may climb</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Beyond the valley, and may chance to see</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Some unknown peak that cleaves unfading skies.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">Old sorrow saps my strength; I may not flee</em></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">The flame of passionate hunger in their eyes;</em></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">Beseeching shade on shade--they hold me in their power.</em></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Love, look not back, for, all too brief, our day,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In wilder glories flameth fast away.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Lo, even now, the northern snow-ridge glows--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With purple shadowed--from pale gold to rose</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That shivers white beneath stars dawning cold.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Lift up thine eyes ere all the colour fades.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">Ah, rainbow-plumèd Love in airs of gold,</em></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">Too late I turn, a shade among the shades.</em></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">To follow, death-enthralled, thy flight through ages grey.</em></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-vision-a-christmas-mystery"><span class="large">The Vision.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>PERSONS: A YOUNG HERD.  HIS MOTHER.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>SCENE: THE QUEEN'S CRAGS.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>TIME: CHRISTMAS EVE.</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">The herd stands at the foot of the Crags, gazing
+across the dark fells.  His mother enters.</em></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>MOTHER: Son, come home, nor tarry here</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In this peril-haunted place.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>My old heart is filled with fear</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>By the white flame of thy face,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And thine eyes whose restless fire</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Burneth ever wild and clear</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As red peats between the bars.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Son, come home; the night is cold;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Dropping from the wintry stars,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Tingling frost falls through the air;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>See, the bents are white with rime;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>All the sheep are in the fold;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>All the cattle in the byre;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Only we, of live things, roam</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O'er the fells so far from home;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>E'en the red fox in his lair</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Snuggles close to keep him warm;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And the lonely, wandering hare</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Crouches, shivering, in her form;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While by Greenlea's frozen edge</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Hides the mallard in the sedge.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Son, come home; the ingle-seat</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Waits thee by the glowing peat,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And the door is off the latch.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Come, and we will feast and sing,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As of old at Christmas time,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Until thou wilt drowse and nod</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And with slumber-drooping head</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Gladly seek thy bracken-bed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Underneath the heather-thatch;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Where the healing sleep will bring</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unto thee the peace of God.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Son, come home!  Whom seekest thou there?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>HERD: Guenevere!  O Guenevere!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>MOTHER: Cry no more on Guenevere.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Some wild warlock of the fells,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Born beneath the Devil's Scars,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Lures thee forth to drown thy soul</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Deep in Broomlea-water cold.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Guenevere no longer dwells</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Anywhere beneath the stars;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though she walked these Crags of old,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Many hundred years ago,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Into earth she sank like snow;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As a sunset-cloud in rain</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Breaks, and showers the thirsty plain,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>All the glory of her hair</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Fell to earth, we know not where.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Leave thy foolish quest forlorn.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Lo, to-night a King is born,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Who, when earthly kings at last</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Into wildering night are passed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet shall wear the crown of morn.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Mary, Thou whose love may turn</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Eyes that after evil burn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Draw his soul, that strays so far,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To Thy Son's white throning-star.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Queen of Heaven, hear my prayer!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>HERD: Guenevere!  O Guenevere!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>MOTHER: Low she lies, and may not hear.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The white lily, Guenevere,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Ruthless time has trodden down;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Arthur is a tarnished crown,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>High Gawain a broken spear,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Percival a riven shield;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>They, who taught the world to yield,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Closed with death and lost the field,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Stricken by the last despair:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Launcelot is but a name</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Blown about the winds of shame;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Surely God has quenched the flame</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That burned men's souls for Guenevere.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Mary, heed a mother's woe;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Mary, heed a mother's tears!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Thou, whose heart so long ago</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Knew the pangs and hopes and fears</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>We poor mortal mothers know;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Thou, to whom, on Christmas-morn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Christ, the Son of God, was born;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Thou whose mother-love hath pressed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The sweet Babe against thy breast;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And with wondering joy hath felt</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The warm clutch of little hands,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When the Kings from far-off lands--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Crowned with gold, in gold attire--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With the simple shepherds knelt</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>'Mid the beasts within the byre;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Mary, if Thy heart, afraid,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When beyond Thy care he strayed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Sometimes grieved that he must grow</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unlike other boys and men--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Filled with dreams beyond Thy ken,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Anguished with diviner woe,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Pangs more fiery than Thy pain,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Deeper than Thy dark despair--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From the perils of the night</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Give me back my son again.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Thou, whose love may never fail,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Heed a lonely mother's prayer!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Come in all Thy healing might!</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">A sudden glory sweeps across the Fells.  The vision
+appears in a cleft of the Crags.  The herd and
+his mother kneel before it.</em></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>MOTHER: Mary, Queen of Heaven, hail!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>HERD (</span><em class="italics">falling forward</em><span>): Guenevere!  Guenevere!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-three-kings"><span class="large">THE THREE KINGS.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">To C. J. S.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">The Three Kings</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>PERSONS: KING GARLAND, KING ARLO, KING ASHALORN.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>SEA-VOICES, WAVE-VOICES, AND WIND-VOICES.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>SCENE: </span><em class="italics">A rock in the midst of the North Sea,</em></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">whereon the three kings, bound naked by conquering</em></div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">sea-rovers, have been left to perish.</em></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>VOICE OF THE DAWN-WIND: Awaken, O sea, from thy starry dream;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Awaken, awaken!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For delight of thy slumber not one pale gleam</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From dim star-clusters remaineth unshaken.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>All night I have haunted the valleys and rivers;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Now hither I come--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Ere, quickened with sunlight, the drowsy east quivers--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To waken thy song, night-bewildered and dumb;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To stir thy grey waters, of starlight forsaken,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To loosen white foam in the red of the dawn.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>WAVE-VOICES: The sound of thy voice</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Has broken our sleep;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>All night we have waited thee, herald of light.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>We arise, we rejoice</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>At thy bidding to leap,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And spray with our laughter the trail of the night.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>All night we have waited thee, weary of stars--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The little star-dreams, and the sleep without song;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The deep-brooding slumber of silence that holds</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Our melody mute in the uttermost deep.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O Wind of the Dawn, we have waited thee long;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The sound of thy voice</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Has broken our sleep;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>We arise, we rejoice</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>At thy bidding to leap,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With a tumult of singing, a rapture of spray,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To scatter our joy in the path of the day.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>GARLAND: Day comes at last, beyond the sea's grey rim;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The young sun leaps in sudden might of gold.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ASHALORN: Before his fire our lives will smoulder dim;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Like stars we shine, we fade; the tale is told,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And all our empty splendour put to scorn;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Fate leaves us, who were clothed in pride, forlorn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To perish, naked, in this lonely sea.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But yesterday we ruled as kings of earth;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Frail men to-day; to-morrow, who shall be?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARLO: But yesterday my cup of life was filled</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To overflowing with the wine of mirth--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The plashing joy from fruitful years distilled.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>GARLAND: But yesterday my kinghood sprang to birth;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>My fingers scarce had grasped the might new-born,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When from my clutch the glittering pomp was torn.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>SEA-VOICES: They slumber, they slumber, the kings in their pride.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The beak of the Rover is dipt in the tide;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The sails of the Rover are red in the wind;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And white is the trail of the foam flung behind.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>They have fallen, have fallen, the kings in their pride;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Their sea-gates are forced by the rush of the tide;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Their splendour is scattered as surf on the wind;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And red is the trail of the terror behind.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Forsaken, forlorn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>On a rock of the sea,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In anguish they bow,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And wait for the night and the darkness to be;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Oh, bright was the gold in their hair;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The sea-weed, in scorn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Is twined in it now;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Oh, rich was their raiment and rare,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Blue, purple, and gold,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In fold upon fold;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of glory and majesty shorn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>They are clothed with the wind of despair.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>GARLAND: Lo, the live waters run to greet the day:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Even so I laughed to see the soaring light;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>My life was poised like yonder curving wave</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To break in such bright revel of keen spray.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARLO: I counted not the years that took their flight,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Gold-crowned and singing; every hour I stood,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As one enchanted in an April wood,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In some new paradise of scent and flowers.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I counted not the countless, careless hours,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The days of rapture and the nights of peace.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>How should I dream that such delight could pass,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Such colour fade, such flowing numbers cease,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>My glory perish where was none to save,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And all my strength be trodden in the grass?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ASHALORN: Oh, blest art thou who diest in thy youth;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Oh, blest art thou who failest in thy prime;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While yet thine eyes are full of wondering truth;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Ere yet thy feet have found the ways of thorn.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Too long I wandered down the vale of time,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A lonely wind, all songless and forlorn;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For I have found the empty heart of things,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The secret sorrow of the summer rose,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And all the sadness of the April green;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I know that every happy stream that springs</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Into a sea of bitter memories flows;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I know the curse that God has set on kings--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The solitary splendour and the crown</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of desolation, and the prisoning state;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The heart that yearns beneath the robe of gold,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The soul that starves behind the golden gate.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I know how chance has reared our earthly thrones</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Upon a shifting wrack of whitened bones,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of heroes fallen in the wars of old--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>By wind upbuilded and by wind cast down.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>SEA-VOICES: As foam on the edge of the waters of night,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>They flicker and fall;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>More brief than delight,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>More frail than their tears,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>They flicker and fall</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In the tide of the years;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Awhile they may triumph, as lords of the earth,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With feasting and mirth,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet the winds and the waters shall sweep over all.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>VOICE OF THE WEST WIND: O wide-shifting wonder of sapphire and gold,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O wandering glory of emerald and white,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From the purple and green of the moorlands I come,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To sweep o'er thy waters with turbulent flight,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To sway thee, and swing thee abroad in my might;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I lean to thy lips, to their white, curling foam,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With laughter and kisses, to smite it to spray;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To thine uttermost deep, unlitten and cold,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I thrill thee with rapture, then wander away.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>I have drunk the red wine of the heather, and swept</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Over moorland and fell, for mile upon mile.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The little blue loughs were merry, and leapt,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With a shaking of laughter, in dim, dreaming hollows;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The little blue loughs were merry, and flung</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Their spray on my wings as above them I swung;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I laughed to their laughter, and dallied awhile;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then left them to sink in the silence that follows.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>In the forest I stirred, like the chant of thy tides,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The song of the boughs and the branches a-swinging;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The ashes and beeches and oak-trees were singing,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Like the noise of thy waters when dark tempest rides.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I swung on the crest of the pine-trees a-swaying,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As now on thy green, flowing surges, O sea;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I piped in my triumph, they danced to my playing;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I left them a-murmur, to hasten to thee.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>The white clouds were driven like ships through the air,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And grey flowed the shadows o'er sea-coloured bent,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And dark on the heathland, and dark on the wold:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But here on thy waters, where all things grow fair,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>They shadow with purple thine emerald and gold.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>My revel unbroken, my rapture unspent,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To thy far-shining wonder, O sea, I have come,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To sweep o'er thy splendour with turbulent flight;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To sway thee, and swing thee abroad in my might;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I lean to thy lips, to their white, curling foam,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With laughter and kisses, to smite it to spray;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To thine uttermost deep, unlitten and cold,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I thrill thee with rapture, then wander away.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>GARLAND: There is no sadness in the world but death.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The years that whitened o'er thy head have taken</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The colour from thy life, but still in me</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The blood beats young and red; yea, still my breath</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Is full of freshness as the wind that blows</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Across the morning-fells when night has shaken</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His cooling dews among the wakening heath.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yea, now the wind that lashes o'er the sea</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Stings all my quivering body to keen life</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And whips the blood into my straining limbs;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And all the youth within me springs to fire;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I am consumed with ravening desire</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For one brief, wild, delirious hour of strife;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I yearn for every joy that flies or swims,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Rides on the wind or with the water flows.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet I must die by patient, slow degrees,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With hourly wasting flesh and parching blood;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Ah God, that I might leap into the flood,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And perish struggling in the adventurous seas!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARLO: My mouth is filled with saltness, and I thirst</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For forest-pools that bubble in the shade,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When loud the hot chase pants through every glade,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And fleeing fawns from every thicket burst;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Or clear wine vintaged when the world was young,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Gurgling from deep-mouthed jars of coloured stone.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ASHALORN: The noonday burns my body to the bone,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And sets a coal of fire upon my tongue,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Between my lips, and stifles all my breath.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Oh come, thou only joy undying, death!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>WAVE-VOICES: O wind, that failing, failing, failing, dies,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Beneath the heat of August-laden skies,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Sinking in sleep, sinking in quiet sleep--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Thy blue wings folded o'er our dreaming deep</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>We too are weary, weary in the noon;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>We too will fall in shining slumber soon--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Foamless and still, foamless and very still,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unstirred, unshaken by thy restless will.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Yet there are eyes that cannot, cannot close,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And strong souls racked by fiery, rending woes--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Never to rest, never to gather rest</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>By any stream of murmuring waters blest.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>But slumber falling, falling, on us lies,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Silent and deep, beneath noon-laden skies,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Silent and deep, silent and very deep,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With blue wings folded o'er our dreaming sleep.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>*      *      *      *      *</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>VOICE OF THE EVENING WIND: I have shaken the noon</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>from my wings, I arise</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>To quicken the flame in the western skies--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To blow the clouds to a streaming flame,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Where the red sun sinks in the opal sea,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And red as the heart of the opal glows</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His last wild gleam in the waters grey.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O grey-green waters, curling to rose,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The kings are glad of the dying day;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The kings are weary; the white mists close--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The white mists gather to cover their shame.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ASHALORN: The evening mist is dank upon my brow,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And cold upon my lips--yea, cold as death;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet, through the gloom, she gazes on me now,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As in our early-wedded days; her breath</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Is warm once more upon my withered cheek.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O gaunt, grey lips, that strive but may not speak;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O cold, grey eyes, that flicker in the gloam--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Long have we strayed; come, let us wander home!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARLO: Like lit September woodlands, streameth down</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her hair, beneath the circle of her crown;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of rarer, redder glory than the cold</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Dead metal that for ever strives to hold</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The ever-straying wonder of live gold!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Like woodland pools, her eyes, a dreaming brown--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Like woodland pools where autumn-splendours drown!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O red-gold tresses, shaking in the gloam,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unto your light, unto your shade I come!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>GARLAND: Her eyes are azure as the wind-blown sea,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With deep sea-shadowings of grey and green;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And like an April storm her shining hair--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yea, all the glittering Aprils that have been,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And all the wondering Aprils yet to be,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Have stored their wealth of shower and sunshine there;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yea, all the thousand, thousand springs of earth</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>New-lit and re-awakened at her birth,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In her sweet body glow and glimmer fair.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O wonder of sea-colours and white foam</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And April glories, to thine arms I come!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>VOICE OF THE EVENING WIND: The sun is gone,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>and the last, red flame</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>Has faded away in a shimmer of rose--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A shimmer of rose that shivers to grey.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The kings are glad of the dying day--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The kings are weary; the white mists close,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The white mists gather to cover their shame.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-songs-of-queen-averlaine"><span class="large">THE SONGS OF QUEEN AVERLAINE.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">To M. B.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>PERSONS: THE KING,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>QUEEN AVERLAINE,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>THE KNIGHT ARKELD.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">I.
+<br />KING AND QUEEN.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">1.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>The day has come; at last my dream unfolds</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>White, wondering petals with the rising sun.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>No other glade in Love's world-garden holds</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>So fair a bloom from vanquished winter won.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Long, oh, so long I watched through budding hours,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>And, trembling, feared my dream would never wake;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>As, one by one, I saw star-tranced flowers</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Out on the night their dewy splendour shake.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>But with the earliest gleam of dawn it stirred,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Knowing that Love had put the dark to flight;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>And I must sing more glad than any bird</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Because the sun has filled my dream with light.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">2.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Is it high noon, already, in the land?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O Love, I dreamed that morn could never pass;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That we might ever wander, hand in hand,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As children in June-meadows plucking flowers,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Through ever-waking, fresh-unfolding hours:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet now we sink love-wearied in the grass;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yea, it is noon, high noon in all the land.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>The young wind slumbers; all the little birds</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That sang about us in the fields of morn</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Are songless now; no happy flight of words</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>On Love's lip hovers--Love has waxed to noon.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Ah, God, if Love should wane to evening soon</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To perish in a sunless world, forlorn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And cease with the last song of weary birds!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">3.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>At dawn I gathered flowers of white,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To garland them for your delight.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>At noon I gathered flowers of blue,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To weave them into joy for you.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>At eve I gather purple flowers,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To strew above the withered hours.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">4.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>She knelt at eve beside the stream,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, sighing, sang: "O waters clear,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Forsaken now of joy and fear,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I come to drown a withered dream.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"Unseen of day, I let it fall</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within the shadow of my hair.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O little dream, that bloomed so fair,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The waters hide you after all!"</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">5.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"Is it not dawn?" she cried, and raised her head,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>"Or hath the sun, grey-shrouded, yesternight,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Gone down with Love for ever to the dead?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When Love has perished, can there yet be light?"</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"Yea, it is dawn," one answered: "see the dew</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Quivers agleam, and all the east is white;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While in the willow song begins anew."</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>"When Love has perished, can there yet be light?"</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">II.
+<br />AVERLAINE AND ARKELD.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">1.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: Oh, why did you lift your eyes to mine?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Oh, why did you lift your drooping head?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: The tangled threads of the fates entwine</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Our hearts that follow as children led.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: From the utmost ends of the earth we came,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As star moves starward through wildering night.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: Our souls have mingled as flame with flame,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yea, they have mingled as light with light.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: The stars in their courses move through the sky</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unswerving, unheeding, cold and blind.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: Why did you linger nor pass me by</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Where the cross-roads meet in the ways that wind?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: I saw your eyes from the dusk of your hair</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Flame out with sorrow and yearning love.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: And I, who wandered with grey despair,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Looking up, saw heaven in blossom above.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: May we not go as we came, alone,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unto the ends of the earth anew?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: May we draw afresh from the rose new-blown</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The golden sunlight, the crystal dew?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: Yea, love between us has bloomed as a rose</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Out of the desert under our feet.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: May we forget how the red heart glows,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Forget that the dew on the petals is sweet?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: Have the ages brought us together that we</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Might tremble, start at shadows, and cry?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: Yea, it has been, and ever will be</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Till Sorrow be slain or Love's self die.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: Stronger than Sorrow is Love; and Hate,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The brother of Love, shall end our Sorrow.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: The Shadow is strong with the strength of Fate,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, slain, would rise from the grave to-morrow.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow for ever between!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">2.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, and tear with ruthless hands</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The golden web wherein, too late, Love strove</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To weave us joy and bind us heart to heart.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: Yea, we must part, and strew on desert-sands</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Petal by petal all the rose of Love,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And part for ever where the cross-ways part.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, and never turn our eyes</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From strange horizons, desolate and far,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though Love cry ever: "Turn but once, sad heart!"</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: Yea, we must part, and under alien skies</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Must follow after some cold, gleaming star,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And roam, as north and south winds roam, apart.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, ere Love be grown too strong</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And we too helpless to resist his might;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While each may go with pure, unshamed heart.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>ARKELD: Yea, we must part; and though we do Love wrong,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He will the more subdue us in our flight,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And hold us each more surely his, apart.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">III.
+QUEEN AVERLAINE.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">1.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>O love, I bade you go; and you have borne</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The summer with you from the valley-lands;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The poppy-flame has perished from the corn;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And in the chill, wan light of early morn</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The reapers come in doleful, starveling bands,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To bind the blackened sheaves with listless hands;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For rain has put their sowing-toil to scorn.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>O Love, I bade you go; and autumn brings</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Bleak desolation; yet within my heart</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unquenched and fierce the flame you kindled springs;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For, echoing all day long, the courtyard rings</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As loud it rang when, rending Love apart,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Your white horse cantered--swift and keen to start--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Into a world of other queens and kings.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">2.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>I bade you go; ah, wherefore are you gone?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>How could you leave me dark and desolate,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O Sun of Love, that for brief summer shone?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Mine eyes are ever on the western gate,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Half-wishing, half-foredreading your return.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Return, O Love, return!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>I cannot live without you; through the dark</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I stretch blind hands to you across the world;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>All day on unknown battle-fields I mark</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Your sword's red course, your banner blue unfurled;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet never, in my day-dreams, you return.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Return, O Love, return!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Nay, you are gone: O Love, I bade you go.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I would not have you come again to be</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A stranger in this house of silent woe,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Where, being all, you would be naught to me.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Mine, mine in dreams, but lost if you return;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Oh, nevermore return!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">3.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"To-day a wandering harper came</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With outland tales of deeds of fame;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I hearkened from the noonday bright</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Until the failing of the light,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The while he sang of joust and fight;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet never once I caught your name.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Oh, whither, whither are you gone,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Whose name victorious ever shone</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Above all knights of other lands?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Across what wilderness of sands?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>By what dead sea-deserted strands?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>On what far quest of Love forlorn?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>I loved you when men called you Lord</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Arkeld, the never-sleeping sword;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet now, when all your might is furled,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And you no longer crest the world,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>More are you mine than when you hurled</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Destruction on the embattled horde.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">4.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Oh, deeper in the silent house</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>The silence falls;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>Only the stir of bat or mouse</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>About the walls.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>No cry, no voice in any room,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>No gust of breath;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>As if, within the clutch of doom,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>We waited death.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">5.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>The King is dead;</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>No longer now</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>The cold eyes gleam</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Beneath his brow.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>O cold, grey eyes,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Wherein the light</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of Love at dawn</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Seemed clear and bright,</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>No true Love burned</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Your cold desire,</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>Which mirrored but</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>My own heart's fire.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">6.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>The King died yesterday....  Ah, no, he died</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>When young Love perished long, so long ago;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>And on his throne, as marble at my side,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Has reigned a carven image, cold as snow,</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though all men bowed before it, crying: "King!"</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Too late, too late the chains which held me fall;</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Rock-bound, I bade the victor-knight go by;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>And now, when time has loosed me from the thrall,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>I know not where he tarries, 'neath what sky</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>He waits the winter's end, the dawn of spring.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">7.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Spring comes no more for me: though young March blow</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To flame the larches, and from tree to tree</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The green fire leap, till all the woodlands glow--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though every runnel, filled to overflow,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Bear sea-ward, loud and brown with melted snow,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Spring comes no more for me!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Spring comes no more for me: though April light</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The flame of gorse above the peacock sea;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though in an interweaving mesh of white</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The seagulls hover 'neath the cliff's sheer height;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though, hour by hour, new joys are winged for flight,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Spring comes no more for me!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Spring comes no more for me: though May will shake</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>White flame of hawthorn over all the lea,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Till every thick-set hedge and tangled brake</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Puts on fresh flower of beauty for her sake;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though all the world from winter-sleep awake,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Spring comes no more for me!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">8.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>I wandered through the city till I came</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Within the vast cathedral, cool and dim;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>I looked upon the windows all aflame</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>With blazoned knights and saints and seraphim.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>I looked on kings in purple, gold and blue,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>On martyrs high before whom all men bow;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>Until a gleam of light my footsteps drew</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Before a shining seraph, on whose brow</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>A little flame, for ever pure and white,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Unwavering burns--the symbol of our love;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>And as I knelt before him in the night,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>He looked, compassionate, on me from above.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">9.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>I heard a harper 'neath the castle walls</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Sing, for night-shelter in the house of thralls,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A song of hapless lovers; in the shade</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I paused awhile, unseen of man or maid.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Taking his harp, he touched the moaning strings,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And sang of queens unloved and loveless kings;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His song shot through my fluttering heart like flame</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Till, wondering, I heard him breathe your name.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Oh, then I knew how all the deathless wrong</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Time wrought of old is but a harper's song;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And all the hopeless sorrow of long years</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>An idle tale to win a stranger's tears.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Yea, in the song of Love's immortal dead</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Our love was told; with shuddering heart I fled,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And strove to pass upon my way unseen,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But song was hushed with whispers: "Lo, the Queen!"</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">10.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Was it for this we loved, O Time, to be</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Among Love's deathless through eternity,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Set high on lone, divided peaks above</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The sheltered summer-valley, broad and green?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Was it for this our joy and grief have been,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Our barren day-dreams, dream-deserted nights--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That valley-lovers, looking up, might see</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>How vain is Love among the starry heights,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, loving, sigh: "How vain a thing is Love!"?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>O Love, that we had found thee in the shade</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Where, all day long, the deep, leaf-hidden glade</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Hears but the moan of some forsaken dove,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Or the clear song of happy, nameless streams;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Where, all night long, the August moonlight gleams</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Through warm, green dusk, no longer cold and white!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O Love, that we had found thee, unafraid,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>One summer morn, and followed thee till night,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As unknown valley-lovers follow Love!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">11.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>I have grown old, awaiting spring's return,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>And, now spring comes, I stand like winter grey</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>In a young world; yet warm within me burn</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>The morning-fires Love kindled in youth's day.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>I have grown old; the young folk look on me</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>With sighs, and wonder that I once was fair,</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>And whisper one another: "Is this she?</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Did summer ever light that winter hair?</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"Ah, she is old; yet, she, too, once was young:</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Yea, loved as we love even, for men tell</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>How bright her beauty burned on every tongue,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>And how a knightly stranger loved her well.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"Yet Love grows old that beats so young and warm;</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>His leaping fires in dust and ashes fail;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>Shall we, too, wither in the winter-storm,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>And wander thus one April, old and frail?"</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Love grows not old, O lovers, though youth die,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>And bodily beauty perish as the flower;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though all things fail, though spring and summer fly,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Love's fire burns quenchless till the last dark hour.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">12.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>O valley-lovers, think you love,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Being all of joy, knows naught of sorrow?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A day, a night</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of swift delight</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That fears no dread, grey-dawning morrow?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>O valley-lovers, think you love</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Knows only laughter, naught of weeping?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A rose-red fire</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of warm desire</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For ever burning, never sleeping?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>O lovers, little know ye Love.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Love is a flame that feeds on sorrow--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A lone star bright</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Through endless night</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That waits a never-dawning morrow.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">13.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"Thus would I sing of life,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Ere I must yield my breath:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though broken in the strife,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I sought not after death.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though ruthless years have scourged</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>My soul with sorrow's brands,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, day by day, have urged</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>My feet o'er desert-sands;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet would I rather tread</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Again the bitter trail,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Than lie, calm-browed and pale,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Among the loveless dead.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>No pang would I forego,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>No stab of suffering,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>No agony of woe,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>If I to life might cling;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>If I might follow still,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For evermore, afar,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O'er barren dale and hill,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>My Love's unfading star.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yea, now, with failing breath,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Thus would I sing of life:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though broken in the strife,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I sought not after death.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">14.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Darkness has come upon me in the end;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Darkness has come upon me like a friend,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet undesired; why comest thou, O night,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To seal mine eyes for ever from the light?</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Darkness has come upon me; yet a star</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Burns through the night and beckons me from far.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Look up, O eyes, unfaltering, without fear;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O morning-star of Love, the dawn is near!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="id1"><span class="large">THE GOLDEN HELM.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">The Golden Helm</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">I.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Across his stripling shoulders Geoffrey felt</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The knighting-sword fall lightly, and he heard</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The King's voice bid him rise; and at the word</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He rose, new-flushed with knighthood, swiftly grown</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To sudden manhood, though, but now, he knelt</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A vigil-wearied squire before the throne.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He paused one moment while the people turned</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To look on him with eyes that kindled bright,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Seeing his face aglow with strange, new light;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet them he saw not where they watched amazed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, though like azure flames Queen Hild's eyes burned,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Beyond the shadow of the throne he gazed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To where, in kindred rapture, young Christine</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Stood, tremulous and white, in wind-flower grace--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Beneath her thick, dark hair, her happy face</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Pale-gleaming 'midst the ruddy maiden-throng;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But, following Geoffrey's eyes, the trembling Queen</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Now bade the harpers rouse the air with song:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From pulsing throat and silver-throbbing string</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The music soared, light-winged, and, fluttering, fell;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When, startled as one waking from a spell,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Geoffrey stepped back among the waiting knights;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While knelt another squire before the King.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In Queen Hild's eyes yet hovered stormy lights,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Beneath her glooming brows, as waters gleam</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Under snow-laden skies; the summer day</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For her in that brief glance had shivered grey,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Empty of light and song.  She only heard</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The King and knights as people of a dream;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet keenly Geoffrey's lightest, laughing word</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Stung to the quick, and stabbed her quivering life,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Till from each shuddering wound the red joy flowed;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, though a ruddy fire on each cheek glowed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She felt her drainèd heart within her cold;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then all at once a hot thought stirred new strife</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within her breast, and suddenly grown old</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And wise in treacherous imagining,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She pressed her thin lips to a bitter smile,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And strove with laughing mask to hide the guile</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That, slowly welling, through her body poured</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Cold-blooded life that feels no arrowy sting</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of joy or hope, nor thrust of pity's sword.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To Christine, where she yet enraptured stood,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Hild, turning, spake kind words, and coldly praised</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The new-made knight.  Each word Christine amazed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Drank in with joyous heart and eager ears;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To her it seemed ne'er lived a Queen so good;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And love's swift rapture filled her eyes with tears.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For her true heart, the day-long pageant moved</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Round Geoffrey's shining presence; king and knight</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But shone for her with pale, reflected light.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As trancèd planets circling round the sun,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>About the radiant head of her beloved</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The dim throngs moved until the day was done.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When lucent gold suffused the cloudless west,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And lingering thrush-notes failed in drowsy song,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She left, at last, the weary maiden-throng,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To stray alone through dew-hung garden-glades;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And all the love unsealed within her breast</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Flowed out from her to light the darkest shades.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her quivering maiden-body could not hold</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The sudden welling of love's loosened flood;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Through all her limbs it gushed, and in her blood</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>It stormed each throbbing pulse with blissful ache;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>It seemed to spray the utmost glooms with gold,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And scatter glistening dews in every brake.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While yet she moved in rapture unafraid</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Among the lilies, down the Grey Nun's Walk,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She heard behind the snapping of a stalk,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And stayed transfixed, nor dared to turn her head,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But stood a solitary, trembling maid--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Forlorn and frail, with all her courage fled.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Thus Geoffrey found her as, hot-foot, he pressed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To pour about her all the glowing tide</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Day-pent within his heart; the flood-gates wide,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His love swept over her, sea after sea,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Until life almost swooned within her breast,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And she seemed like to drown in ecstasy.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet, as the tempest sank in calm at last,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She rose from out the foam of love, new-born--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As Venus from the irised surf of morn--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To such triumphant beauty, Geoffrey, thralled,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Before her stood in wonder rooted fast;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Even his love within him bowed appalled</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In tongueless worship as he gazed on her;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While, lily-like, the trancèd flowers among,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She stood, love-radiant, and above her hung</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The canopy of star-enkindling night;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though, when again she moved with joyous stir,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He sprang to her in love's unchallenged might.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">II.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>All night, beside her slumbering lord, the Queen</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Tossed sleepless--every aching sense astrain</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With tingling wakefulness that racked like pain</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her weary limbs; all night, in wide-eyed dread,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She watched the slow hours moving dark between</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The glimmering window and the curtained bed.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The fitful calling of the owl, all night,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Struck like the voice of terror on her ears;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With brushing wings, about her taloned fears</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Fluttered till dawn: when, as the summer gloom,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Grey-quivering, spilt in silver-showering light,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She rose and stood within the dawning room,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Shivering and pale--her long, unbraided hair</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Each moment quickening to a livelier gold</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>About her snowy shoulders; yet, more cold</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Than the still gleam of winter-frozen meres,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her blue eyes shone with strange, unseeing stare,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As though they sought to pierce some mist of fears;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, when she turned, the old familiar things</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unknown and alien seemed to her sight--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Outworn and faded in the morning light</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The rose-embroidered tapestries, and frail</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The painted Love that hung on irised wings</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Above the sleeping King.  Dark-browed and pale</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She looked upon her lord, and fresh despair</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With dreadful calm through all her being stole,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And froze with icy breath the flickering soul</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That strove within her.  Evil courage steeled</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her heart once more, as, combing back her hair,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She watched the waking world of wood and field:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Hay-harvesters with long scythes flashing white;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The dewy-browsing deer; the blue smoke-curl</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Above some woodland hut; a kerchiefed girl</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Driving the kine afield with loitering pace.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But, as a youthful rider came in sight,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She from the casement turned with darkening face,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And looked not out again, and fiercely pressed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her white teeth in her quivering underlip,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To stifle the wild cry that strove to slip</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From her strained throat; with clutching hands she sought</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To stay the throbbing tumult of her breast</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That fluttered like a bird in meshes caught.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Christine as yet in dreamless slumber lay</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within her turret-chamber; but a bird</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within the laurel singing softly stirred</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her eyes to wakeful life, and from her bed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She rose and stood within the light of day,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>White-faced and wondering, with lifted head.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As April-butterflies, new-winged for flight,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That poise awhile in quivering amaze,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Ere they may dare the unknown, glittering ways</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of perilous airs--upon the brink of morn</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She paused one moment in the showering light,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In radiant ecstasy of youth forlorn.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then swift remembrance flushed her virgin snow,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And wakened in her eyes the living fire;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With joyous haste she drew her bright attire</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>About her trembling limbs, with eager hands,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Veiling her maiden beauty's morning glow,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Before she looked abroad on meadowlands,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Where Geoffrey rode at dawn.  Across the blaze</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of dandelions silvering to seed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She saw his white horse swing with easy speed;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He rode with head exultant in the breeze</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That lifted his brown hair.  With lingering gaze</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She watched him vanish down an aisle of trees;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, swiftly gathering her dark hair in braids</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Above her slender neck, she crossed the floor</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With noiseless step, unlatched the creaking door,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And stole in trembling silence down the stair,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Intent to reach the garden ere the maids</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Should come with chattering tongues and laughter there;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When by her side she heard a rustling stir:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The arras parted, and before her stood</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Queen Hild in proud, imperious womanhood,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Looking upon her with cold, smiling eyes.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In startled wonder Christine glanced at her.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then spake the Queen: "Do maids thus early rise</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To tend their household duties, or to feed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The doves, relinquishing sleep's precious hours</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To see the morning dew upon the flowers</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And what frail blooms have perished 'neath the moon?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To reach the Grey Nun's Walk, mayhap you speed--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To count the stricken buds of lilies strewn</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>O'ernight upon the soil by careless feet</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That wandered there so late?  Yea, now I know,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Christine, because you flush and tremble so.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet look you not on me with eyes that burn;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I would not stay you when you go to greet</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The rider of the dawn on his return.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Think you I leave my bed at break of day--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I, Hild the Queen--to thwart a lover's kiss?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Think you my love of you could stoop to this,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though you would wed a fledgling, deedless Knight?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Nay, shrink you not from me, turn not away;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Because my heart has never known love's light,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I fain would hear your happy tale of love,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That I may prosper you and your fair youth.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Will you not trust me?"  Blind with love's glad truth,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Christine sank down within Hild's outstretched arms.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Speechless, awhile, with sobbing breath she strove;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then poured out all the tale of love's alarms,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Raptures, despairs, and deathless ecstasies,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In one quick torrent from her brimming heart;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, quaking, ceased, and drew herself apart,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Dismayed that she so easily had revealed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To this white, cold-eyed Queen love's sanctities.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet Hild moved not, but stood, with hard lips sealed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Until, the chiming of the turret-bell</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Recalling her, she spake with far-off voice:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>"I, loveless, in your innocent love rejoice.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>May nothing stem its eager raptured course!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Oh, that my barren heart could love so well,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And feel the surge of love's subduing force!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet even I from out my dearth may give</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To you, Christine.  Would you that Geoffrey's name</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Shall shine, unchallenged, on the lists of fame?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>If you would have him win for you the crown</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of knightly immortality, and live</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Triumphant on men's tongues in high renown,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Follow me now."  With cold, exulting eyes</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She raised the arras, opening to the light</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>An unknown stair-way clambering into night.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within the caverned wall she swiftly passed.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Christine for one brief moment in surprise</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Uncertain paused; then, wondering, followed fast.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The falling arras shutting out the day,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She stumbled blindly through the soaring gloom--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Enclosing dank and chilly as the tomb</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her panting life; and unto her it seemed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That ever, as she climbed, more sheer the way</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Before her rose, and ever fainter gleamed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The wan, white star of light that overhead</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Hovered remote.  Far up the stair she heard</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A silken rustling as, without a word,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Relentlessly Queen Hild before her sped</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For ever up the ever-soaring steep.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But when it almost seemed that she must fall--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>So loudly in her ears the pulses beat,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And each step seemed to sink beneath her feet--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She heard the shrilly grating of a key,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And saw, above her, in the unseen wall,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A dazzling square of day break suddenly.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within the lighted doorway Queen Hild turned</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To reach a helping hand, and, as she bent</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To clutch the swooning maiden, well-nigh spent,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And drew her to the chamber, weak and faint,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Through her gold hair so rare a lustre burned,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>It seemed to Christine that an aureoled saint</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Leaned out from heaven to snatch her from the deep.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, dizzily, she sank upon the floor,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Dreaming that toil was over evermore,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And she secure in Love's celestial fold;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Till, waking gradually as from a sleep,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her dark eyes opened on a blaze of gold.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She sat within a chamber hung around</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With glistering tapestry, whereon a knight,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Who bore a golden helm above the fight,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For ever triumphed o'er assailing swords,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Or led the greenwood chase with horse and hound,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While far behind him lagged the dames and lords</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And all the hunting train; till he, at length,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Brought low the antlered quarry on the brink</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of some deep, craggy cleft, wherefrom did shrink</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The quailing hounds with lathered flanks aquake.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As Christine looked on them, her maiden-strength</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Returned to her; and now, more broad awake,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She saw, within the centre of the room,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A golden table whereon glittered bright</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A casket of wrought gold, and, in the light,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Queen Hild, awaiting her, with smiling lips,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And laughing words: "Is this then love's sad doom,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To perish, fainting, in light's brief eclipse</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Between a curtain and a closed door?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Shall this bright casket ever hold, unsought,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The golden helm--in elfin-ages wrought</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For some star-destined knight--because love's heart</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Grows faint within her?  Shall the world no more</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Acclaim its helmèd lord?"  But, with a start,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Christine arose, and swiftly forward came</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With eager eyes, and stooped with fluttering breast--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her slender, shapely hands together pressed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In tense expectancy, and all her face</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With quivering light of wondering love aflame.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The Queen bent down, and in a breathing space</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unlocked the casket with a golden key,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And deftly loosed a little golden pin;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The heavy lid swung open and, within,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To Christine's eyes revealed the golden helm.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then spake Queen Hild, once more: "Your love-gift see!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Think you that any smith in all the realm</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Can beat dull metal to so fair a casque?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In jewelled caverns of enchantment old</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>This helm was wrought of magic-tempered gold</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To yieldless strength, by elfin-hammers chased,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That toiled unwearied at their age-long task,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And over it an unknown legend traced</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In letters of some world-forgotten tongue.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>At noon, with careful footing, down the stair</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unto the hall the casket you must bear,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When King and knight are gathered round the board,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, ere the tales be told or songs be sung,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Acclaim your love the golden-helmed lord."</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Christine, awhile, in speechless wonderment,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Hung o'er the glistering helm, and silence fell</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within the arrased chamber like a spell;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While softly, on some distant, sunlit roof,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The basking pigeons cooed with deep content;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Till, far below, a sudden-clanging hoof</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Startled the morn.  The women's lifted eyes</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>One moment met in kindred ecstasy;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then Hild, with hopeless shudder, shaking free,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With strained voice spake: "Why do you longer wait?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Your love returns; shall he, in sad surprise,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Find no glad face to greet him at the gate?"</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">III.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>As some new jest was tossed from tongue to tongue,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Light laughter rippled round the midday board,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Beneath the bannered rafters: dame and lord</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And maid and squire with merry chattering</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Sat feasting; though no motley humour wrung</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A smile from Hild, where she, beside the King,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Watched pale and still.  She saw on Geoffrey's face</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Grave wonder that he caught not anywhere</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Among the maids the dusk of Christine's hair,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Or sunlight of her glance.  His eyes, between</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The curtained doorway and her empty place,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Kept eager, anxious vigil for Christine.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But when, at last, the lingering meal nigh o'er,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The waking harp-notes trembled through the hush,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Like the light, fitful prelude of the thrush</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Ere his full song enchant the domèd elm;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The arras parting, through the open door</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She came.  Before her borne, the golden helm</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within the dim-lit hall shone out so bright,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That lord and dame in rustling wonder rose,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And squire and maiden sought to gather close,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With questioning lips, about the love-bright maid.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Christine, unheeding, turned nor left nor right;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With lifted head and eager step unstayed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She strode to Geoffrey, while he stood alone,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Radiant with wondering love--as one who sees</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The light of high, eternal mysteries</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Illume awhile the mortal shade that moves</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From out oblivion unto night unknown,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Hugging a little grace of joys and loves.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Before him now she came and, kneeling, spake,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With slow, clear-welling voice: "In ages old</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>This helm was wrought from elfin-hammered gold,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For one who, in the after-days, should be</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Supreme above his kind, as, in the brake</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of branching fern, the solitary tree</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That crests the fell-top.  Unto you I bring</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The gift of destiny, that, as the sun</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>New-risen of your knighthood, newly-won,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The wondering world may see its glory shine."</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As Christine spake, with questioning glance the King</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Turned to the Queen, who gave no answering sign.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, stretching forth his arm, he cried: "Sir knight,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I know not by what evil chance this maid</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Has climbed the secret newell-stair unstayed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And reached the casket-chamber, and has borne</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From thence the Helm of Strife, whereon the light</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of day has never fallen, night or morn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For seven hundred years; but, ere you take</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The doomful gift, know this: he who shall dare</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To don the golden helm must ever fare</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Upon the edge of peril, ever ride</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Between dark-ambushed dangers, ever wake</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unto the thunderous crash of battle-tide.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Oh, pause before you take the fateful helm.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Will you, so young, forego, for evermore,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The sheltered haven-raptures of the shore,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To strive in ceaseless tempest, till, at last,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The fury-crested wave shall overwhelm</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Your broken life on death's dark crag upcast?"</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He ceased, and stood with eyes of hot appeal;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>An aching silence shuddered through the hall;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>None stirred nor spake, though, swaying like to fall,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Christine, in mute, imploring agony,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Wavered nigh death.  As glittering points of steel</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Queen Hild's eyes gleamed in bitter victory.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But all were turned to Geoffrey, where he stood</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In pillared might of manhood, very fair;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His face a little paled beneath his hair,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though bright his eyes with all the light of day.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>At length he spake: "For evil or for good,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>I take the Helm of Strife; let come what may."</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">IV.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Dawn shivered coldly through the meadowlands;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The ever-trembling aspens by the stream</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Quivered with chilly light and fitful gleam;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Ruffling the heavy foliage of the plane,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Until the leaves turned, like pale, lifted hands,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A cold gust stirred with presage of near rain.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Coldly the light on Geoffrey's hauberk fell;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But yet more cold on Christine's heart there lay</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The winter-clutch of grief, as, far away,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She saw him ride, and in the stirrup rise</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, turning, wave to her a last farewell.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Beyond the ridge he vanished, and her eyes</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Caught the far flashing of the helm of gold</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>One moment as it glanced with mocking light;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then naught but tossing pine-trees filled her sight.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet darker gloomed the woodlands 'neath the drench</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of pillared showers; colder and yet more cold</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her heart had shuddered since the last, hot wrench</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of parting overnight.  Though still her mouth</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Felt the mute impress of love's sacred seal;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though still through all her senses seemed to steal</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The heavy fume of wound-wort that had hung</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>All night about the hedgerows--parched with drouth;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though the first notes the missel-cock had sung,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Ere darkness fled, resounded in her ears;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet no hot tempest of tumultuous woe</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Shook her young body.  As night-fallen snow</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Burdens with numb despair young April's green,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her sorrow lay upon her; hopes and fears</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within her slept.  As something vaguely seen</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Nor realised--since yesterday's dread noon</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Had shattered all love's triumph--life had passed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>About her like a dream by doom o'ercast.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Long hours she sat, with silent, folded hands,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And face that glimmered like a winter moon</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In cloudy hair.  Across the rain-grey lands</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She gazed with eyes unseeing; till she heard</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A step within her chamber, and her name</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Fell dully on her ear; then like a flame</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Sharp anguish shot through every aching limb</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With keen remembrance.  Suddenly she stirred,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, turning, looked on Hild.  "Grieve you for him..."</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The Queen began; then, with a little gasp,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her voice failed, and she shrank before the gaze</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of Christine's eyes, and, shrivelled by the blaze</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of fires her hand had kindled, all her pride</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Fell shredded, and not even the gold clasp</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of queenhood held, her naked deed to hide.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She quailed, and, turning, fled from out the room.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Soon Christine's wrath was drowned in whelming grief,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And in the fall of tears she found relief--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As brooding skies in sweet release of rain.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>All day she wept, until, at length, the gloom</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of eve laid soothing hands upon her pain.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, once again, she rose, calm-browed, and sped</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Downstairs with silent step, and reached, unstayed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The Grey Nun's Walk, where all alone a maid</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Drank in the rain-cooled air.  With low-breathed words,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>They whispered long together, while, o'erhead,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From rain-wet branches rang the song of birds.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The maiden often paused as in alarm;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, with uncertain, half-delaying pace,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She left Christine, returning in a space</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With Philip, Christine's brother, a young squire,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Who strode by her with careless, swinging arm</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And eager face, with keen, blue eyes afire.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then all three stood, with whispering heads bent low,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In eager converse clustered; till, at last,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>They parted, and, with high hopes beating fast,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Christine unto her turret-room returned--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her dark eyes bright and all her face aglow,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As if some new-lit rapture in her burned.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>About her little chamber swift she moved,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Until, at length, in travelling array,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She paused to rest, and all-impatient lay</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Upon her snow-white bed, and watched the light</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Fail from the lilied arras that she loved</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Because her hand had wrought each petal white</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And slender, emerald stem.  The falling night</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Was lit for her with many a memory</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of little things she could no longer see,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That had been with her in old, happy hours,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Before her girlish joys had taken flight</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As morning dews from noon-unfolding flowers.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For her, with laggard pace the minutes trailed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Till night seemed to eternity outdrawn.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>At last, an hour before the summer-dawn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She rose and once again, with noiseless tread,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Crept down the stair, grey-cloaked and closely veiled,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While every shadow struck her cold with dread</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Lest, drawing back the arras, Hild should stand</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With mocking smile before her; but, unstayed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She reached the stair-foot, and, no more afraid,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She sought a low and shadow-hidden door,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Slid back the silent bolts with eager hand,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And stepped into the garden dim once more.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She quickly crossed a dewy-plashing lawn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, passing through a little wicket-gate,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She reached the road.  Not long had she to wait</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Ere, with two bridled horses, Philip came.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Silent they mounted; far they fared ere dawn</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Burnished the castle-weathercock to flame.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">V.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Northward they climbed from out the valley mist;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Northward they crossed the sun-enchanted fells;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Northward they plunged down deep, fern-hidden dells;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And northward yet--until the sapphire noon</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Had burned and glowed to thunderous amethyst</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of evening skies about an opal moon;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Northward they followed fast the loud-tongued fame</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of young Sir Geoffrey of the golden helm;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Until it seemed that storm must overwhelm</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Their weary flight.  They sought a lodging-place,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And soon upon a lonely cell they came</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Wherein a hermit laboured after grace.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>On beds of withered bracken, soft and warm,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>He housed them, and himself, all night, alone,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Knelt in long vigil on the aching stone,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Within his little chapel, though, all night,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His prayers were drowned by thunders of the storm,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And all about him flashed blue, pulsing light.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Christine in calm, undreaming slumber lay,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Nor stirred till, clear and glittering, the morn</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Sang through the forest; though, with roots uptorn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The mightiest-limbed and highest-soaring oak</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Had fallen charred, with green leaves shrivelled grey.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>At tinkling of the matin-bell she woke,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And soon with Philip left the woodland boughs</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For barer uplands.  Over tawny bent</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And purpling heath they rode till day was spent;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When, down within a broad, green-dusking dale,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>They sought the shelter of the holy house</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of God's White Sisters of the Virgin's Veil.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>So, day by day, they ever northward pressed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Until they left the lands of peace behind,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And rode among the border-hills, where blind</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Insatiate warfare ever rages fierce;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Where night-winds ever fan a fiery crest,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And dawn's light breaks on bright, embattled spears:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A land whose barren hills are helmed with towers;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A lone, grey land of battle-wasted shires;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A land of blackened barns and empty byres;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A land of rock-bound holds and robber-hordes,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of slumberous noons and wakeful midnight hours,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of ambushed dark and moonlight flashing swords.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With hand on hilt and ever-kindling eyes,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Flushed face and quivering nostril, Philip rode;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But nought assailed them; every lone abode</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Forsaken seemed; all empty lay the land</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Beneath the empty sky; only the cries</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of plovers pierced the blue on either hand;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Until, at sudden cresting of a hill,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The clang of battle sounded on their ears,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And, far below, they saw a surge of spears</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Crash on unyielding ranks; while, from the sea</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of striving steel, with deathly singing shrill,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A spray of arrows flickered fitfully.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Amazed they stood, wide-eyed, with holden breath;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When, of a sudden, flashed upon their sight</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The golden helm in midmost of the fight,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Where, with high-lifted head and undismayed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Sir Geoffrey rode, a very lord of death,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With ever-leaping, ever-crashing blade.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Christine watched long, now cold with quaking dread,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Now hot with hope as each assailant fell;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The bright sword held her gaze as by a spell;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Because love blinded her to all but love,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unmoved she watched the foemen shudder dead,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She whose heart erst the meanest woe could move.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, dazed, she saw a solitary shaft,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unloosed with certain aim from out the bow,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Strike clean through Geoffrey's hauberk, and bring low</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The golden helm, while o'er him swiftly met</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The tides of fight.  Christine a little laughed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With rattling throat, and stood with still eyes set.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Scarce Philip dared to raise his eyes to hers</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To see the terror there.  No word she spake,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But leaned a little forward through the brake</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That bloomed about her in a golden blaze;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her hands were torn to bleeding by the furze,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet nothing could disturb that dreadful gaze.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then, gradually, the heaving battle swerved</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To northward, faltering broken, and afar</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>It closed again, where, round a jutting scar,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The flashing torrent of the river curved.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With eager step Christine ran down the hill,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And sped across the late-forsaken field</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To where, with shattered sword and splintered shield,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Among the mounded bodies Geoffrey lay.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She loosed his helm, but deathly pale and still</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>His young face gleamed within the light of day.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Christine beside him knelt, as Philip sought</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A draught of water from the peat-born stream;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When, in his eyes, at last, a fitful gleam</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Flickered, and bending low, with straining ears,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The laboured breathing of her name she caught;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And over his dead face fell fast her tears.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Once more towards them the tide of battle swept;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Christine moved not.  Young Philip on her cried,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And strove, in vain, to draw her safe aside.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A random shaft in her unshielded breast--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though hot to stay its course her brother leapt--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Struck quivering, and she slowly sank to rest.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">VI.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Queen Hild sat weaving in her garden-close,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When on her startled ear there fell the news</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of Christine's flight before the darkling dews</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Had thrilled with dawn.  A strand of golden thread</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Slipped from her trembling fingers as she rose</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And hastened to the castle with drooped head.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>All morn she paced within her blinded room,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unresting, to and fro, her white hands clenched;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>All morn within her tearless eyes, unquenched,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Blue fires of anger smouldered, yet no moan</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Escaped her lips.  Without, in summer bloom,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The garden murmured with bliss-burdened drone</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of hover-flies and lily-charmed bees;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Sometimes a finch lit on the window-ledge,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With shrilly pipe, or, from the rose-hung hedge,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A blackbird fluted; yet she neither heard</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Nor heeded aught; until, by rich degrees,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Drowsed into noon the noise of bee and bird.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yea, even when, without her chamber, stayed</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A doubtful step, and timid fingers knocked,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She answered not, but, swiftly striding, locked</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yet more secure, with angry-clicking key,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The bolted door, and the affrighted maid</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unto the waiting hall fled, fearfully.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Wearied at last, upon her bed Queen Hild</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In fitful slumber sank; but evil dreams</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Of battle-stricken lands and blood-red streams</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Swirled through her brain.  Then, suddenly, she woke,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Wide-eyed, and sat upright, with body chilled,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though in her throat the hot air seemed to choke.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Swiftly she rose; then, binding her loosed hair,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She bathed her throbbing brows, and, cold and calm,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Downstairs she glided, while the evening-psalm</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In maiden-voices quavered, faint and sweet,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And from the chapel-tower, through quivering air,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The bell's clear silver-tinkling clove the heat.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She strode into the hall where yet the King</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Sat with his knights; a weary minstrel stirred</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Cool, throbbing wood-notes, throated like a bird,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From his soft-stringèd lute.  With scornful eyes</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Hild looked on them and spake: "Can nothing sting</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Your slumberous hearts from slothful peace to rise?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Must only stripling-knights and maidens ride</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To battle, where, unceasing, foemen wage</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>War on your marches, and your wardens rage</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In impotent despair with desperate swords,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>While you, O King, with sheathèd arms abide?"</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She paused, and, wondering, the King and lords</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Looked on her mutely; then, again, she spake:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>"Shall I, then, and my maidens sally forth</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With battle-brands to conquer the wild north?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Yea, I will go!  Who follows after me?"</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As by a blow struck suddenly awake,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The King leapt up, and, like a clamorous sea,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The knights about him.  Scornfully the Queen</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Looked on them: "So my woman's words have roused</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The hands that slumbered and the hearts that drowsed.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Make ready then for battle; ere seven days</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Have passed, the dawn must light your armour's sheen,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And in the sun your pennoned lances blaze."</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Her voice ceased; and a pulsing flame of light</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Flashed through the hall; in crashing thunder broke</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The heavy, hanging heat; the rafters woke</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In echo as the rainy torrent poured;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Bright gleamed the rapid lightning; yet more bright</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The war-lust kindled hot in every lord.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>To clang of armour the seventh morning stirred</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>From slumber; restless hoof and champing bit</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Aroused the garth; and day, arising, lit</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A hundred lances, as, each bolt withdrawn,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The courtyard-gate swung wide with noise far-heard,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And flickering pennons rode into the dawn--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Before his knights, the King, and at his side,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Queen Hild, with ever-northward-gazing eyes;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But, ere they far had fared, in mute surprise</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>They stayed and all drew rein, as down the road</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>They saw a little band of warriors ride--</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Sore travel-stained--who bore a heavy load</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Upon a branch-hung litter; while before</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Came Philip, bearing a war-broken lance.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Though King and lords looked, wondering, in a glance</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Queen Hild had read the sorrow of his face</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And pierced the leaf-hid secret--which e'ermore</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A brand of fire upon her heart would trace.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Darkness about her swirled, but, with a fierce</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Wild, conquering shudder, shaking herself free,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Unto the light she clung, though like a sea</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>It surged and eddied round her; yet so still</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She sat, none knew her steely eyes could pierce</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The leafy screen.  With guilty terror chill,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>She heard the king speak--sadly riding forth:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>"Whence come you, Philip, battle-stained and slow?</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>What burden bear you with such brows of woe?"</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Then Philip answered, mournfully: "I bring</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Two wanderers home from out the perilous north.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Prepare to gaze on death's defeat, O King."</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>They lowered the litter slowly to the ground;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Back fell the branches; in the light of day,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>In calm, white sleep Christine and Geoffrey lay,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And at their feet the baleful Helm of Strife</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Sword-cloven.  Hushed stood all the knights around,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>When spake the King, alighting: "Come, O wife,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And let us twain, with humble heads low-bowed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Even at the feet of love triumphant stand,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>A little while together, hand in hand."</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>The Queen obeyed; but, fearfully, she shrank</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Before the eyes of death, and, quaking, cowed,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With moaning cry, low in the dust she sank.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">PRINTED BY R. FOLKARD AND SON,
+<br />23, DEVONSHIRE STREET, QUEEN SQUARE, BLOOMSBURY.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em">
+</div>
+<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- -->
+<div class="backmatter">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE GOLDEN HELM</span><span> ***</span></p>
+<div class="cleardoublepage">
+</div>
+<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42052"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42052</span></a></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>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.  Special rules, set
+forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to
+protect the Project Gutenberg™ concept and trademark. Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge
+for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not
+charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is
+very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as
+creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research.
+They may be modified and printed and given away – you may do
+practically </span><em class="italics">anything</em><span> with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.</span></p>
+<div class="level-3 section" id="the-full-project-gutenberg-license">
+<span id="project-gutenberg-license"></span><h3 class="level-3 pfirst section-title title"><span>The Full Project Gutenberg License</span></h3>
+<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">Please read this before you distribute or use this work.</em></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
+Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
+Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
+</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p>
+<div class="level-4 section" id="section-1-general-terms-of-use-redistributing-project-gutenberg-electronic-works">
+<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 1. General Terms of Use &amp; Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works</span></h4>
+<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.A.</strong><span> By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
+destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your
+possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
+Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by
+the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
+or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.B.</strong><span> “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
+paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic
+works. See paragraph 1.E below.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.C.</strong><span> The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
+Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
+of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual
+works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
+States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United
+States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a
+right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
+displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
+all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
+that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free
+access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works
+in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project
+Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with
+the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format
+with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it
+without charge with others.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.D.</strong><span> The copyright laws of the place where you are located also
+govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most
+countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the
+United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms
+of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
+distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
+other Project Gutenberg™ work.  The Foundation makes no
+representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
+country outside the United States.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.</strong><span> Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.1.</strong><span> The following sentence, with active links to, or other
+immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear
+prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work
+on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
+phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
+performed, viewed, copied or distributed:</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>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 </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a></p>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.E.2.</strong><span> If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is
+derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating
+that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work
+can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without
+paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing
+access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with
+or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements
+of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of
+the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in
+paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.3.</strong><span> If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is
+posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and
+distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and
+any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
+will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of
+this work.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.4.</strong><span> Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project
+Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a
+part of this work or any other work associated with Project
+Gutenberg™.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.5.</strong><span> Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute
+this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg™ License.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.6.</strong><span> You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
+any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
+to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other
+than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
+version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ web site
+(</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a><span>), you must, at no additional cost, fee or
+expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a
+means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original
+“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include
+the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.7.</strong><span> Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.8.</strong><span> You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided
+that</span></p>
+<ul class="open">
+<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you
+already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to
+the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to
+donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60
+days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally
+required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments
+should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4,
+“Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation.”</span></p>
+</li>
+<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
+License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
+copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
+all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
+works.</span></p>
+</li>
+<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
+any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
+receipt of the work.</span></p>
+</li>
+<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.</span></p>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.E.9.</strong><span> If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
+Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
+are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
+from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and
+Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact
+the Foundation as set forth in Section 3. below.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.</strong></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.1.</strong><span> Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend
+considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe
+and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg™
+collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.2.</strong><span> LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES – Except for the
+“Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the
+Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the
+Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a
+Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.3.</strong><span> LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND – If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
+with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
+with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
+lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
+or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
+opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
+the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
+without further opportunities to fix the problem.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.4.</strong><span> Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set
+forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS,’ WITH
+NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
+LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.5.</strong><span> Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
+damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
+violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
+agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
+limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
+unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
+remaining provisions.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.6.</strong><span> INDEMNITY – You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation,
+the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
+production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
+electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
+including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
+the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
+or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or
+additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any
+Defect you cause.</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="level-4 section" id="section-2-information-about-the-mission-of-project-gutenberg">
+<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™</span></h4>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
+computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
+exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
+from people in all walks of life.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™'s
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain
+freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To
+learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and
+how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the
+Foundation web page at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.pglaf.org">http://www.pglaf.org</a><span> .</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="level-4 section" id="section-3-information-about-the-project-gutenberg-literary-archive-foundation">
+<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation</span></h4>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf</a><span> . Contributions to the
+Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to
+the full extent permitted by U.S.  federal laws and your state's laws.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr.
+S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are
+scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is
+located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801)
+596-1887, email </span><a class="reference external" href="mailto:business@pglaf.org">business@pglaf.org</a><span>. Email contact links and up to date
+contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and
+official page at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.pglaf.org">http://www.pglaf.org</a></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>For additional contact information:</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Dr. Gregory B. Newby</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Chief Executive and Director</span></div>
+<div class="line"><a class="reference external" href="mailto:gbnewby@pglaf.org">gbnewby@pglaf.org</a></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+</div>
+<div class="level-4 section" id="section-4-information-about-donations-to-the-project-gutenberg-literary-archive-foundation">
+<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation</span></h4>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without wide spread
+public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing
+the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely
+distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest array of
+equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to
+$5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status
+with the IRS.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
+DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular
+state visit </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate</a></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
+donate, please visit: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="level-4 section" id="section-5-general-information-about-project-gutenberg-electronic-works">
+<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works.</span></h4>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg™
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the
+U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
+necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
+edition.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's
+eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
+compressed (zipped), HTML and others.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Corrected </span><em class="italics">editions</em><span> of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
+the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is
+renamed. </span><em class="italics">Versions</em><span> based on separate sources are treated as new
+eBooks receiving new filenames and etext numbers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search
+facility:</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a></p>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including
+how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe
+to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/42052-h/images/img-cover.jpg b/42052-h/images/img-cover.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bae7e9a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/42052-h/images/img-cover.jpg
diff --git a/42052-rst.zip b/42052-rst.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3433b4d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/42052-rst.zip
diff --git a/42052-rst/42052-rst.rst b/42052-rst/42052-rst.rst
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0799801
--- /dev/null
+++ b/42052-rst/42052-rst.rst
@@ -0,0 +1,2812 @@
+.. -*- encoding: utf-8 -*-

+

+.. meta::

+   :PG.Id: 42052

+   :PG.Title: The Golden Helm

+   :PG.Released: 2013-02-08

+   :PG.Rights: Public Domain

+   :PG.Producer: Al Haines

+   :DC.Creator: Wilfrid Wilson Gibson

+   :DC.Title: The Golden Helm

+              and Other Verse

+   :DC.Language: en

+   :DC.Created: 1903

+   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

+

+===============

+THE GOLDEN HELM

+===============

+

+.. clearpage::

+

+.. pgheader::

+

+.. container:: coverpage

+

+   .. vspace:: 3

+

+   .. _`Cover`:

+

+   .. figure:: images/img-cover.jpg

+      :align: center

+      :alt: Cover

+

+      Cover

+

+   .. vspace:: 4

+

+.. container:: titlepage center white-space-pre-line

+

+   .. class:: x-large

+

+      THE

+      GOLDEN HELM

+      AND OTHER VERSE

+

+   .. vspace:: 2

+

+   .. class:: medium

+

+      BY

+      WILFRID WILSON GIBSON

+

+   .. vspace:: 3

+

+   .. class:: center medium

+

+      LONDON

+      ELKIN MATHEWS, VIGO STREET

+      1903 

+

+   .. vspace:: 4

+

+.. container:: dedication center white-space-pre-line

+

+   .. class:: center medium

+

+      TO

+      HOWARD PEASE

+

+   .. vspace:: 4

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   *BY THE SAME WRITER*

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center medium white-space-pre-line

+

+   *URLYN THE HARPER AND OTHER SONG*

+   *THE QUEEN'S VIGIL AND OTHER SONG*

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+Thanks are due to Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co., for

+permission to reprint "The King's Death," "The Three

+Kings," and the first part of "Averlaine and Arkeld,"

+from *The Cornhill Magazine*; to the editor of

+*Macmillan's Magazine* for leave to reprint "In the Valley";

+to the editor of *The Saturday Review* for leave to

+reprint "Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière"; and to the

+editors of *The Pilot, The Outlook, The Pall Mall Gazette,

+Country Life, The Week's Survey*, and *The Broadsheet*,

+for like courtesy with regard to a number of "The Songs

+of Queen Averlaine."

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. class:: center large

+

+   Contents

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: noindent white-space-pre-line

+

+   `The Torch`_

+   `The Unknown Knight`_

+   `The King's Death`_

+   `The Knight of the Wood`_

+   `Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière`_

+   `In the Valley`_

+   `The Vision: a Christmas Mystery`_

+   `The Three Kings`_

+   `The Songs of Queen Averlaine`_

+   `The Golden Helm`_

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`The Torch`:

+

+.. class:: center large

+

+   The Torch

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+|  Through skies blown clear by storm, o'er storm-spent seas,

+|  Day kindled pale with promise of full noon

+|  Of blue unclouded; no night-weary wind

+|  Ruffled the slumberous, heaving deeps to white,

+|  Though round the Farne Isles the waves never sink

+|  In foamless sleep--about the pillared crags

+|  For ever circling with unresting spray.

+|  At dawn's first glimmer, from his island-cell--

+|  Rock-hewn, secure from tempest--Oswald came

+|  With slow and weary step, white-faced and worn

+|  With night-long vigil for storm-perilled souls.

+|  His anxious eye with sharp foreboding bright--

+|  He scanned the treacherous flood; the long froth-trail

+|  That marks the lurking reefs; the jag-toothed chasms

+|  Which, foaming, gape at night beneath the keel--

+|  The mouth of hell to storm-bewildered ships:

+|  But no scar-stranded vessel met his glance.

+|  Relieved, he drank the glistering calm of morn,

+|  With nostril keen and warm lips parted wide;

+|  While, gradually, the sun-enkindled air

+|  Quickened his pallid cheek with youthful flame,

+|  Though lonely years had silvered his dark head,

+|  And round his eyes had woven shadow-meshes.

+|  Clearly he caught the ever-clamorous cries

+|  Of guillemot and puffin from afar,

+|  Where, canopied by hovering, white wings,

+|  They crowded naked pinnacles of rock.

+|  He watched, with eyes of glistening tenderness,

+|  The brooding eider--Cuthbert's sacred bird,

+|  That bears among the isles his saintly name--

+|  Breast the calm waves; a black, wet-gleaming fin

+|  Cleft the blue waters with a foaming jag,

+|  Where, close behind the restless herring-herd,

+|  With ravening maw of death, the porpoise sped.

+|  Oswald, light-tranced, dreamed in the sun awhile;

+|  Till, suddenly, as some old sorrow starts,

+|  Though years have glided by with soothing lull,

+|  The gust of ancient longing rent his bliss:

+|  His narrow isle, as by some darkling spell,

+|  More narrow shrank; the gulls' unceasing cries

+|  Grew still more fretful; and his hermit-life

+|  A sea-scourged desolation to him seemed.

+|  The holy tree of peace--which he had dreamt

+|  Would flourish in the wilderness afresh,

+|  Upspringing ever in new ecstasy

+|  Of branching beauty and white blooms of truth,

+|  Till its star-tangling crest should cleave the sky,

+|  And angels rustle through its topmost boughs--

+|  Seemed sapless, rootless.  Through his quivering limbs

+|  His famine-wasted youth to life upleapt

+|  With passionate yearning for humanity:

+|  The stir of towns; the jostling of glad throngs;

+|  Welcoming faces and warm-clasping hands;

+|  Yea, even for the lips and eyes of Love

+|  He hungered with keen pangs of old desire:

+|  And, if for him these might not be, he craved

+|  At least the exultation of swift peril--

+|  The red-foamed riot of delirious strife

+|  That rears a bloody crest o'er peaceful shires,

+|  And, slaying, in a swirl of slaughter dies.

+|  With brow uplifted and strained, pulsing throat,

+|  And salt-parched lips out-thrust, unto the sun

+|  He stretched beseeching hands, as though he sought

+|  To snatch some glittering disaster thence.

+|  One moment radiant thus; and then once more

+|  His arms dropped listless, and he slowly shrank

+|  Within his sea-stained habit, cowering dark

+|  Amid the azure blaze of sea and sky.

+|  Then, stirring, with impatient step he moved

+|  Across the isle to where the rocky shore,

+|  Forming a little, crag-encircled bay,

+|  Sloped steeply to the level of the sea;

+|  But, as he neared the edges of the tide,

+|  Startled, he paused, as, marvelling, he saw

+|  A woman on the shelving, wet, black rock,

+|  Lying, forlorn, among the storm-wrack, white

+|  And motionless; still wet, her raiment clung

+|  About her limbs, and with her wet, gold hair

+|  Green sea-weed tangled.  Oswald on her looked

+|  Amazed, as one who, in a sea-born trance,

+|  Discovers the lone spirit of the storm,

+|  Self-spent at last, and sunk in dreamless slumber

+|  Within some caverned gloom.  Coldly he watched

+|  The little waves creep up the glistening rock,

+|  And, faltering, slide once more into the deep,

+|  As though they feared to waken her: at length,

+|  When one, more venturous, about her stole,

+|  And moved her heavy hair as if with life,

+|  He shuddered; and a lightning-knowledge struck

+|  His heart with fear; and in a flash he knew

+|  That no sea-phantom couched before him lay,

+|  But some frail fellow-creature, tempest-tost,

+|  Hung yet in peril on the edge of death,

+|  Her weak life slipping from the saving grasp

+|  While he delayed.  He sprang through plashy weed,

+|  O'er slippery ridges, to the rock whereon

+|  She lay with upturned face and close-shut eyes--

+|  One hand across her breast, the other dipped

+|  Within a shallow pool of emerald water,

+|  With blue-veined fingers clutching the red fronds

+|  Of frail sea-weed.  Then Oswald, bending, felt

+|  Upon his cheek the feeble breath that still

+|  Fluttered between the pallid, parted lips.

+|  In trembling haste, he loosed the sodden cords

+|  That bound her to a spar; and with hot hands

+|  He chafed her icy limbs, until the glow

+|  Of life returned.  With fitful quivering

+|  The white lids opened; and she looked on him

+|  With dull, unwondering eyes whose deep-sea blue

+|  The gloom of death's late passing shadowed yet;

+|  When suddenly light thrilled them, and bright fear

+|  Flashed from their depths, and, with a little gasp,

+|  She strove to rise; but Oswald with quick words

+|  Calmed her weak terror, and she sank once more,

+|  Closing her eyes; and, gently lifting her

+|  Within his arms--her gold hair hanging straight

+|  And heavy with sea-water, as he plunged

+|  Knee-deep through pools of crackling bladder-weed--

+|  He bore her, unresisting, o'er the isle

+|  Unto the rock-built shelter he had reared,

+|  Some little way apart from his own cell,

+|  For storm-stayed fishers or wrecked mariners.

+|  He laid her on a bed of withered bents,

+|  And ministered to her with gentle hands

+|  And ceaseless care; till, wrapped in warm, deep sleep,

+|  She sank oblivious.  Silently he placed

+|  His island-fare beside her on the board,

+|  Lest she should wake in need; then, with hushed step,

+|  He turned to go; but, ere he reached the door,

+|  He paused, and looked again towards the bed,

+|  As though he feared his strange sea-guest might flee

+|  Like some wild spirit, born of wondering foam,

+|  That wins from man the shelter of his breast,

+|  Then, on a night of moon-enchanted tides,

+|  Leaps with shrill laughter to its native seas,

+|  Bearing his soul within its glistening arms,

+|  To drown his peace on earth and hope of heaven

+|  In cold eternities of lightless deeps.

+|  But still in dreamless sleep the stranger lay,

+|  With parted lips and breathing soft and calm;

+|  About her head unloosed, her hair outshone,

+|  Among the grey-green bents, like fine, red gold.

+|  So beautiful she was that Oswald, pierced

+|  With quivering rapture, dared no longer bide,

+|  But, with quick fingers, softly raised the latch,

+|  And stumbled o'er the threshold.  As he went,

+|  A flock of sea-gulls from the bent-thatched roof

+|  Rose, querulous, and round him, wheeling, swept,

+|  With creaking wings and cold, black eyes agleam;

+|  Yet Oswald saw them not, nor heard their cries;

+|  Nor saw he, as he paced the eastern crags,

+|  How, round the Farnes, the dreaming ocean lay

+|  In broad, unshadowed, sapphire ecstasy,

+|  That glowed to noon through slow, uncounted hours.

+|  His early gloom had vanished; time and space

+|  And earth and sea no longer compassed him;

+|  One thought alone consumed him--beauty slept

+|  Within the shelter of his hermitage,

+|  Upon grey, rustling bents, with golden hair.

+|  He roamed, unresting, till the copper sun

+|  Sank in a steel-grey sea, and earth and sky

+|  Were strewn with shadows--wavering and dim--

+|  To weave a pathway for the dawning moon,

+|  That she, from night's oblivion, might create

+|  With the cold spell of her enchantments old

+|  A phantom earth with magical, bright seas,

+|  A vaster heaven of unrevealed stars.

+|  Unmoving, on a headland of swart crag

+|  That jutted gaunt and sharp against the night,

+|  Stood Oswald, cowled and silent.  Hour by hour

+|  He gazed across the sea, which nothing shadowed,

+|  Save where--now dim, now white--a lonely sail

+|  Hung, restless, o'er a fisher's barren toil.

+|  Yet Oswald saw nor sail nor moon nor sea:

+|  His heart kept vigil by the little house

+|  Wherein the stranger slumbered; and it seemed

+|  His life, by some strange power within him stayed,

+|  Awaited the unlatching of the door.

+

+|  But now, within the hut, the sleeper dreamt

+|  Of foaming caverns and o'erwhelming waters;

+|  Then, shuddering awake, awhile she lay,

+|  And watched the moonlight, cold and white, which poured

+|  Through the warm dusk, from the high window-slit;

+|  When, all at once, the strangeness of the room

+|  Closed in upon her with bewildering dread.

+|  She stirred; the bents, beneath her, rustled strange;

+|  She started in affright, and, swaying, stood

+|  Within the streaming moonlight, till, at last,

+|  In memory, once more disaster swept

+|  Over her life, and left her, desolate,

+|  Upon bleak crags of alien seas unknown.

+|  Yet, through the tumult of tempestuous dark,

+|  Above the echo of despairing cries,

+|  A calm voice sounded; and beyond the whirl

+|  Of foaming death, wherein she caught the gleam

+|  Of well-loved faces drowning in cold seas,

+|  A living face shone out--a beacon clear:

+|  Then numbing fear fell from her, and she moved,

+|  Unlatched the door, and stole into the night.

+|  One moment, dazzled by the full-moon glare,

+|  She paused, a shivering form within the wide

+|  And glittering desolation--lone and frail.

+|  But Oswald, watchful on the eastern scars,

+|  Seeing her, forward came with eager pace

+|  To meet her; and, as he drew swiftly near,

+|  His cowl fell backward; and she knew again

+|  The face that calmed the terrors of her dreams.

+|  Yet, with the knowledge, through her being stole,

+|  Vague fear more strange, more impotent than the blind

+|  Unquestioning dread when death had round her stormed;

+|  No peril of the body could arouse

+|  Such ecstasy of terror in her soul,

+|  Which seemed upborne upon the shivering crest

+|  Of some great wave, just curving, ere it crash

+|  Upon the crags of time.  Yet, though she feared

+|  When Oswald paused, uncertain, quick she spake,

+|  As though she sought to parry doom with words.

+|  She questioned him--scarce heeding his replies--

+|  How she had hither come; when, suddenly,

+|  Sped by her fluttering words, the last, dim cloud

+|  Rolled from her memory, and she saw revealed

+|  Within a pitiless glare of naked light

+|  The utmost horror of her desolation.

+|  Mute with despair, she stood with parted lips,

+|  And then cried fiercely: "Hath the sea upcast

+|  None other on this shore?  Am I, alone,

+|  Of all my kin who sailed in that doomed ship,

+|  Flung back to life?"  And as, with piteous glance,

+|  He answered her: "Ah God, that I, with them,

+|  Had died!  O traitor cords that held too sure

+|  My body to the broken spar of life!

+|  O feeble seas, that fumed in such wild wrath,

+|  Yet could not quench so frail a thing as I!"

+|  With passionate step, across the isle she ran,

+|  And leapt from crag to crag, until she stood

+|  Upon a dizzy scar that jutted sheer

+|  Above low-lapping waves.  Then once again

+|  Her moaning cry was heard among the Isles:

+|  "O bitter waters, give them back to me!

+|  You shall not keep them; all your waves of woe

+|  Cannot withhold from me those dauntless lives

+|  That were my life.  Surely they cannot rest

+|  Without me; even from your unfathomed graves

+|  Surely my love will draw them to my arms!"

+|  As though in tremulous expectation tranced,

+|  She yearned, with arms outstretched; as dawn arose

+|  Exultant from the sea, and with clear rays

+|  Kindled her wind-tost hair to streaming flame.

+

+|  Awhile she stood, then, moaning, slowly sank

+|  Upon the crag; and Oswald came to her

+|  With words of comfort which unloosed her pent

+|  And aching woe in swift, tumultuous tears.

+|  Oswald, in silent anguish, drew apart,

+|  Gazing, unseeing, o'er the dawning waves;

+|  Until at last the tempest of her grief,

+|  In low and fitful sobbing, spent itself;

+|  When, turning to him, once again she spake,

+|  And, shuddering, with faltering voice, outpoured

+|  The tale of her despair: and Oswald heard

+|  How she, who sat thus strangely by his side,

+|  Marna, a sea-earl's daughter, had besought

+|  Her father, when the old sea-hunger lit

+|  His eyes--as waves shot through with stormy fight--

+|  For leave to bear him company but once,

+|  When, with his sons, he rode the adventurous seas;

+|  How he had yielded with reluctant love;

+|  And how, from out the firth of some far strand,

+|  Their galley rode, beneath a flaming dawn;

+|  How her young heart had leapt to see the sails

+|  Unfurled to take the wind, as, one by one,

+|  Toil-glistening rowers shipped the dripping oars,

+|  And loosened every sheet before the breeze;

+|  How, as the ship with timbers all astrain,

+|  Leapt to mid-sea, through Marna's body thrilled

+|  A kindred rapture, and there came to her

+|  The sheer, delirious joy of them true-born

+|  To wander with the foam--each creaking cord

+|  That tugged the quivering mast unto her singing

+|  Of unknown shores and far, enchanted lands,

+|  Beyond the blue horizon; how, all day,

+|  They rode, undaunted, through the spinning surf;

+|  But, as the sun dipped, in the cold, grey tide,

+|  The wind, that since the dawn with steady speed

+|  Had filled the sails, now came in fitful gusts,

+|  Fierce and yet fiercer, till the sullen waves

+|  Were lashed to anger, and the waters leapt

+|  To tussle with the furies of the air;

+|  And how the ship, in the encounter caught,

+|  Was tossed on crests of swirling dark, or dropped

+|  Between o'er-toppling walls of whelming night;

+|  How in those hours--too dread for thought or speech--

+|  Her father's hand had bound her to a spar;

+|  And, even as--the cord between his teeth--

+|  He tugged the last knot sure, the vessel crashed

+|  Upon a cleaving scar; and she but saw

+|  The strong, pale faces looking upon death,

+|  Before the fierce, exultant waters closed

+|  With cold oblivion o'er them; and no more

+|  She knew, until she waked within the hut,

+|  To find her world, in one disastrous night,

+|  In one swift surge of roaring darkness, swept

+|  From her young feet; her kindred, home and friends,

+|  And all familiar hopes and joys and fears

+|  Dropt like a garment from her life, which now

+|  Stood naked on the edge of some new world

+|  Of unknown terrors.

+|                       Oswald heard her tale

+|  With pitying glance; yet in his eyes arose

+|  A strange, new light, which as each gust of grief

+|  Shook out the fluttering words, more brightly burned;

+|  So that, when Marna ceased, it seemed to her

+|  That he, in holy contemplation rapt,

+|  Had heeded not her woe; and from her heart

+|  Burst out a cry: "Ah God, I am alone!"

+|  But, stung by her shrill anguish, Oswald waked

+|  From his bright reverie, and his shining eyes

+|  Darkened with swift compassion, as he turned

+|  And, trembling, spake: "Nay, not alone..."

+|      Then mute

+|  He stood--his pale lips clenched--as though within

+|  There surged a torrent which he dared not loose.

+|  Marna looked wondering up; but, when her eyes

+|  Saw the white passion of his face, her soul

+|  Was tossed once more on crests of unknown fears;

+|  Yet rapture warred with terror in her heart;

+|  She trembled, and her breath came short and quick.

+|  She dared not raise her eyes again to his,

+|  Till, on her straining ears, his words, once more,

+|  Fell, slow and cold and clear as water dripping

+|  Between locked sluice-gates: "Nothing need you fear.

+|  Beyond the sea of unknown terrors lie

+|  White havens of an undiscovered peace.

+|  For even this bleak, scar-embattled coast

+|  May yield safe harbour to the storm-spent soul.

+|  Your world has fallen from you that you may

+|  Enter another world, more beautiful,

+|  Built 'neath the shadow of the throne of God.

+|  There shall you find new friends, who yet will seem

+|  Familiar to your eyes, because their souls

+|  Have passed through kindred perils and despairs."

+|  He ceased; and silence, trembling, 'twixt them hung;

+|  Till Marna, gazing yet across the sea,

+|  Rent it with words: "Where may I find this peace?"

+|  And Oswald answered: "In an inland dale

+|  The Sisters of the Cross await your coming,

+|  With ever-open gate.  Within seven days,

+|  My brethren from the mainland will put out,

+|  Bringing me food; on their return with them

+|  You may embark.  Till then, this barren rock

+|  Must be your home."  Exultant light once more

+|  Leapt, flashing, in the depths of his dark eyes.

+|  Yet Marna looked not up, but, slowly, spake:

+|  "Yea, I must go....  But you...."

+|      Then in dismay

+|  She stopped, as though the thought had slipped unknown

+|  From her full heart; but Oswald caught the words,

+|  And spake with hard, quick speech, as if to baffle

+|  Some doubt that strove within him: "On this Isle

+|  I bide, till God shall kindle my weak soul

+|  To burn, a beacon o'er His lonely seas."

+|  Once more he paused; and perilous silence swayed

+|  Between them, until Oswald, quaking, rose,

+|  As one who dared no longer rest beneath

+|  O'er-toppling doom.  Yet, with calm voice, he spake:

+|  "Even within this wilderness abides

+|  Such beauty that, in your brief sojourn here,

+|  Your soul shall starve not; all about you sweeps

+|  The ever-changing wonder of the sea;

+|  But if, too full of bitter memories,

+|  The bright waves darken, you may lift your eyes

+|  To watch the swooping gull; the flashing tern;

+|  The stately cormorant and the kittiwake--

+|  Most beautiful of all the island-birds;

+|  Or, if your woman's heart should crave some grace

+|  More exquisite, see, frail bell-campions blow,

+|  As foam-flowers on the shallow, sandy turf."

+|  As thus he spake, a light in Marna's eyes

+|  Arose, and sorrow left her for awhile:

+|  And she with bright glance questioned him, and watched

+|  The hovering gulls, and plucked the snowy blooms,

+|  With little cries at each discovered beauty.

+|  Yet Oswald by her side walked silently,

+|  And watched, as one struck mute with anguished fear,

+|  Her eager eyes, and heard her chattering words.

+|  Then, suddenly, he left her, but returned

+|  Within the hour, with faltering step, and spake

+|  With tremulous voice: "We two must part awhile;

+|  For I must keep lone vigil in my cell

+|  Six days and nights, with fasting and with prayer;

+|  Meanwhile, within the little hut for you

+|  Are food and shelter till the brethren come.

+|  When I must give you over to their care."

+|  Marna, with wondering heart, looked up at him;

+|  But such a wild light flickered in his eyes

+|  She dared not speak; and, shuddering, he turned,

+|  And strode back swiftly to the hermitage.

+

+|  Marna looked after him with yearning gaze,

+|  As though her heart would have her call him back,

+|  Yet her lips moved not; motionless, she watched

+|  Until he passed from sight; then, sinking low

+|  Among the flowers, she wept, she knew not why.

+

+|  And, as the door closed on him, Oswald fell

+|  Prone on the cold, black, vigil-furrowed rock

+|  That paved his narrow cell; and long he lay

+|  As in the clutch of some dread waking-trance,

+|  Nor stirred until the shadows into night

+|  Were woven.  Then unto his feet he leapt

+|  With this wild cry: "O God, why hast Thou sent

+|  This scourge most bitter for my naked soul?

+|  I feared not storm nor solitude, O God;

+|  I shrank not from the tempest of Thy wrath;

+|  Though oft my weak soul wavered, trampled o'er

+|  By deedless hours, and yearned unto the world,

+|  Ever afresh Thy love hath bound me fast

+|  Unto this island of Thy lonely seas;

+|  And I, who deemed that I at last might reach--

+|  I who had come through all--Thy golden haven,

+|  Knew not Thy hand withheld this last despair,

+|  This scourge most bitter, being most beautiful."

+|  Then on his knees he sank, and tried to pray

+|  Before the Virgin's shrine, where ever burned

+|  His votive taper with unfailing light.

+|  But when his lips would breathe the holy name,

+|  His heart cried: "Marna!  Marna!"  Every pulse

+|  Throbbed "Marna!"  And his body shook and swayed,

+|  As though it strove to utter that one word,

+|  And cry it once unto eternal stars,

+|  Though it should perish crying.  Through the cell

+|  The silence murmured: "Marna!"  And without

+|  A lone gull wailed it to the windy night.

+|  He lifted his wild eyes, and in the shrine

+|  He saw the face of Marna, which outburned

+|  The flickering taper; on the gloom up-surged,

+|  Foam-white, the face of Marna; till the dark

+|  Flowed pitiful o'er him, and on the stone

+|  He sank unconscious.  Night went slowly by,

+|  And pale dawn stole in silence through his cell;

+|  And, in the light of morn, the taper died,

+|  With feeble guttering; yet he never stirred,

+|  Though noonday waxed and waned.

+|                           But Marna roamed

+|  All night beneath the stars.  To her it seemed

+|  That not until the closing of the door

+|  Had all hope perished: now death tore, afresh,

+|  Her father and her brothers from her arms.

+|  By day and night and under sun and moon

+|  She roamed unresting--seeing, heeding naught--

+|  Till weariness o'ercame her, and she slept;

+|  And, as she slumbered, snowy-plumed peace

+|  Nestled within her heart; and, when she waked,

+|  She only yearned for that dim, cloistral calm,

+|  Embosomed deep in some bough-sheltered vale,

+|  Whither the boat must bear her.

+|                                  In his cell,

+|  As night paled slowly to the seventh morn,

+|  Oswald arose--the fire within his eyes

+|  Yet more intense, more fierce.  With eager hand

+|  He clutched the latch, and, flinging wide the door,

+|  He strode into the dawn.  One moment, dazed,

+|  As though bewildered by the light, he paused;

+|  But, when his glance in restless roving fell

+|  On Marna, standing on the western crag

+|  Against the setting moon, beneath the dawn,

+|  His passion surged upon him, and he shook;

+|  Then, springing madly forth, he, stumbling, ran,

+|  And, falling at her feet upon the rock,

+|  His voice rang out in fearful exultation:

+|  "You shall not go!  I cannot let you go!

+|  Has not the tumult tossed you to my breast?

+|  Yea, and not all the storms of all the seas

+|  Shall drag you from me!  Nay, you shall not go!

+|  For we will live together on this isle

+|  Which time has builded in the deeps for us--

+|  We two together, one in ecstasy,

+|  Throughout eternity; for time shall fall

+|  From off us; and the world shall be no more:

+|  And God, if God should stand between us now..."

+|  Faltering, he paused; and Marna stood, afraid,

+|  Quaking before him; but she spake no word.

+|  Across the waters came the plash of oars;

+|  But Oswald heard them not, and once more cried:

+|  "You will not go--thrusting me back to death?

+|  For now I know the strange, new thing you brought

+|  For me from out the storm was life--yea, life;

+|  And I am one arisen from the grave.

+|  You will not thrust me back and take again

+|  That which you came through storm to bring to me?

+|  You will not go?  I cannot let you go!"

+

+|  He ceased; and now the even plash of oars

+|  Came clearer.  One dread moment Marna stood

+|  Swaying; then, stretching forth her arms, she cried:

+|  "Ah God!  Ah God!  Why hath Thy cold hand set

+|  This doom upon me?  Must I ever bear

+|  Death and disaster unto whom I love?

+|  Oh, is it not enough that, 'neath the wave,

+|  Because I sought to bear them company,

+|  My father and my brothers lie in death?

+|  But this--ah God--that it should come to this!

+|  Must I bear ever death within my hands?"

+

+|  She paused one moment, with wild-heaving breast;

+|  Then, turning unto Oswald, spake again,

+|  With softer voice: "But you--have you no pity?

+|  You who are but God's servant--surely you

+|  Have pity on my weakness.  From this doom

+|  Which overhangs me you must set me free.

+|  You say I brought you life; but in me lies

+|  For you--the priest of God--a death more deep

+|  Than all the drowning fathoms of the sea.

+|  I go, that you may live.  If life indeed

+|  I brought you, I was but the torch of God

+|  To kindle the clear flame of your strong soul

+|  To burn, a beacon o'er His lonely seas."

+|  She ceased, with arms outstretched and lighted eyes.

+|  As on some holy vision Oswald gazed

+|  In rapt, adoring fear; nor spake, nor stirred.

+|  Near, and yet nearer, drew the plash of oars;

+|  And, turning in the boat, the brethren looked

+|  With wondering eyes upon them, whispering: "Lo,

+|  Some seraph-messenger of God most high

+|  Tarries with Oswald.  See the strange new peace

+|  That burns his face like a white altar-flame.

+|  Not yet must we draw near, lest our weak sight

+|  Be blinded by that glory of gold hair

+|  That gleams so strangely in the light of dawn."

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`The Unknown Knight`:

+

+.. class:: center large

+

+   The Unknown Knight

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+|  When purple gloomed the wintry ridge

+|    Against the sunset's windy flame,

+|  From pine-browed hills, along the bridge,

+|    An unknown rider came.

+

+|  I watched him idly from the tower.

+|    Though he nor looked nor raised his head;

+|  I felt my life before him cower

+|    In dumb, foreboding dread.

+

+|  I saw him to the portal win

+|    Unchallenged, and no lackey stirred

+|  To take his bridle when within

+|    He strode without a word.

+

+|  Through all the house he passed unstayed,

+|    Until he reached my father's door;

+|  The hinge shrieked out like one afraid;

+|    Then silence fell once more.

+

+|  All night I hear the chafing ice

+|    Float, griding, down the swollen stream;

+|  I lie fast-held in terror's vice,

+|    Nor dare to think or dream.

+

+|  I only know the unknown knight

+|    Keeps vigil by my father's bed:

+|  Oh, who shall wake to see the light

+|    Flame all the east with red?

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`The King's Death`:

+

+.. class:: center large

+

+     The King's Death

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+*The sleeping-chamber of the King: a candle burns

+dimly by the curtained bed.  The arras parts, and

+two slaves enter with daggers.  A storm of wind rages

+without.*

+

+|  FIRST SLAVE: He sleeps.

+

+|  SECOND SLAVE: He sleeps, whom only death shall rouse

+|  To dread unsleeping in another world.

+

+|  FIRST SLAVE: How long the careful night has kept him wakeful,

+|  As if sleep loathed to snare him for our knives!

+

+|  SECOND SLAVE: Yea, we have crouched so close in quaking dark

+|  I scarce can lift my sword-arm: strike you first.

+

+|  FIRST SLAVE: The heavy waiting hours have crushed my strength;

+|  The hate that burst to such an eager flame

+|  Within my heart has smouldered to dull ash,

+|  Which pity breathes to scatter.

+

+|  SECOND SLAVE: Knows he pity?

+

+|  FIRST SLAVE: Nay, he is throned above his slaughtered kin,

+|  A reeking sword his sceptre.  He has broken,

+|  As one across the knee a faggot snaps,

+|  Strong lives to feed the blaze of his ambition;

+|  Yet shall a slave's hand strike cold death in him

+|  For whom kings sweat like slaves?

+

+|  SECOND SLAVE: Yea, at the stroke

+|  One slave lies dead--a hundred kings are born;

+|  For every man that breathes will be a king;

+|  Vast empires, beaten-dust beneath his feet,

+|  Will rise again and teem with kingly men,

+|  When he, their death, is dead

+

+|  FIRST SLAVE: How still he sleeps!

+|  The tempest shrieks to wake him, yet he slumbers.

+|  As seas that foam against unyielding scars,

+|  The mad wind storms the castle, wall and tower,

+|  And is not spent.  Hark, it has found a breach--

+|  Some latch unloosed--the house is full of wind;

+|  It rushes, wailing, down the corridor;

+|  It seeks the King; it cries on him to waken;

+|  Now 'tis without, and shakes the rattling bolt;

+|  Lo, it has broken in, in little gusts,

+|  I feel it in my hair; 'twill lay cold fingers

+|  Upon his lips, and start him from his sleep.

+|  See, it has whipt the yellow flame to smoke.

+

+|  SECOND SLAVE: And now it fails; the heavy, hanging gold

+|  That shelters him from night is all unstirred.

+

+|  FIRST SLAVE: Even the wind must pause.

+

+|  SECOND SLAVE: 'Twas but a breeze

+|  To blow our sinking courage to clear fire.

+|  Too long we loiter; soon the approaching day

+|  Will take us, slaves who grasp the arms of men

+|  Yet dare not plunge them save in our own breasts.

+|  Come, let us strike!

+

+|  (*They approach the bed and draw aside the curtain.*)

+

+|  FIRST SLAVE: The King--how still he sleeps!

+|  Can majesty in such calm slumber lie?

+

+|  SECOND SLAVE: Come, falter not, strike home!

+

+|  FIRST SLAVE: Hold, hold your hand,

+|  For death has stolen a march upon our hate;

+|  He does not breathe.

+

+|  SECOND SLAVE: The stars have wrought for us,

+|  And we are conquerors with unbloodied hands.

+

+|  FIRST SLAVE: Nay, nay, for in our thoughts his life was spilt;

+|  While yet our bodies lagged in fettered fear,

+|  Our shafted breath sped on and stabbed his sleep.

+|  Oh, red for all the world, across our brows,

+|  Our murderous thoughts have burned the brand of Cain.

+|  See, through the window stares the pitiless day!

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`The Knight of the Wood`:

+

+.. class:: center large

+

+   The Knight of the Wood

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+|  "I fear the Knight of the Wood," she said

+|  "For him may no man overthrow.

+|  Where boughs are matted thick o'erhead,

+|  There gleams, amid the shadows dread,

+|  The terror of his armour red;

+|  And all men fear him, high and low;

+|  Yet all must through the forest go."

+

+|  She paused awhile where larches flame

+|  About the borders of the wood;

+|  Then, crying loud on Love's high name

+|  To keep her maiden-heart from shame,

+|  She entered, and full-swiftly came

+|  Where, hooded with a scarlet hood,

+|  A rider in her pathway stood.

+

+|  She saw the gleam of armour red;

+|  She saw the fiery pennon wave

+|  Its flaming terror overhead

+|  'Mid writhing boughs and shadows dread.

+|  "Ah God," she cried: "that I were dead,

+|  And laid for ever in my grave!"

+|  Then, swooning, called on Love to save.

+

+|  Among the springing fern she fell,

+|  And very nigh to death she lay;

+|  Till, like the fading of a spell

+|  At ringing of the matin-bell,

+|  The darkness left her; by a well

+|  She waked beneath the open day,

+|  And rose to go upon her way;

+

+|  When, once again, the ruddy light

+|  Of arms she saw, and turned to flee;

+|  But clutching brambles stayed her flight;

+|  While, marvelling, she saw the Knight

+|  Unhooded; and his eyes were bright

+|  With April colours of the sea;

+|  And crowned as a King was he.

+

+|  She knelt before him in the ferns,

+|  And sang: "O Lord of Love, I bow

+|  Before thy shield, where blazoned burns

+|  The flaming heart with light that turns

+|  The night to day.  O heart that yearns

+|  For love, lo, Love before thee now--

+|  The wild-wood knight with crownèd brow!"

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière`:

+

+.. class:: center large

+

+   Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+|  Above Thy halo's burning blue

+|  For ever hovers the White Dove;

+|  Thy heart enshrines, for ever new,

+|  The Cross--the Crown of all Thy love;

+|  While, sapphire wing on sapphire wing,

+|  About Thee choiring angels swing

+|  Gold censers, and bright candles bear.

+|  Because I have no heart to sing,

+|  I come to Thee with all my care,

+|  *Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière.*

+

+|  Because the sword hath pierced Thy side,

+|  Thy brows are crowned with circling gold.

+|  The woe of all the world doth hide

+|  Within Thy mantle's azure fold.

+|  Because Thou, too, hast dwelt with fears,

+|  Through lingering days and endless years,

+|  I find no comfort otherwhere,

+|  Our Lady beautiful with tears,

+|  Our Lady sorrowfully fair,

+|  *Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière.*

+

+|  My feet have travelled the hot road

+|  Between the poppies' barren fires;

+|  But now I cast aside the load

+|  Of burning hopes and wild desires

+|  That ever fierce and fiercer grew.

+|  Thy peace falls like a falling dew

+|  Upon me as I kneel in prayer,

+|  Because Thou hast known sorrow, too,

+|  Because Thou, too, hast known despair,

+|  *Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière.*

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`In the Valley`:

+

+.. class:: center large

+

+   In the Valley

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+|  Love, take my hand, and look not with sad eyes

+|  Through the valley-shades: for us, the mountains rise;

+|  Beneath the cold, blue-cleaving peaks of snow

+|  Like flame the April-blossomed almonds blow--

+|  Spring-grace and winter-glory intertwined

+|  Within the glittering web that colour weaves.

+

+|  *Yet who are they who troop so close behind*

+|  *With raiment rustling like frost-withered leaves*

+|  *That burden winter-winds with ever-restless sighs?*

+

+|  Love, look not back, nor ever hearken more

+|  To murmuring shades; for us, the river-shore

+|  Is lit with dew-hung daffodils that gleam

+|  On either side the tawny, foaming stream

+|  That bears through April with triumphal song

+|  Dissolving winter to the brimming sea.

+

+|  *Yet who are they who, ever-whispering, throng,*

+|  *With lean, grey lips that shudder piteously,*

+|  *As if from some bright fruit of bitter-tasting core?*

+

+|  Nay, look not back, for, lo, in trancèd light

+|  Love stays awhile his world-encircling flight

+|  To wait our coming from the valley-ways;

+|  See where, a hovering fire amid the blaze,

+|  He pants aflame with irised plumes unfurled

+|  Above the utmost pinnacle of noon.

+

+|  *Yet who are they who wander through the world*

+|  *Like weary clouds about a wintry moon,*

+|  *With wan, bewildered brows that bear eternal night?*

+

+|  Love, look not back, nor fill thy heart with woe

+|  Of old, sad loves that perished long ago;

+|  For ever after living lovers tread

+|  Pale, yearning ghosts of all earth's lovers dead.

+|  A little while with life we lead the train

+|  Ere we, too, follow, cold, some breathing love.

+

+|  *I fear their fevered eyes and hands that strain*

+|  *To snatch our joy that flutters bright above,*

+|  *To shadow with grey death its ruddy, pulsing glow.*

+

+|  Love, look not back in this life-crowning hour

+|  When all our love breaks into perfect flower

+|  Beneath the kindling heights of frozen time.

+|  Come, Love, that we with happy haste may climb

+|  Beyond the valley, and may chance to see

+|  Some unknown peak that cleaves unfading skies.

+

+|  *Old sorrow saps my strength; I may not flee*

+|  *The flame of passionate hunger in their eyes;*

+|  *Beseeching shade on shade--they hold me in their power.*

+

+|  Love, look not back, for, all too brief, our day,

+|  In wilder glories flameth fast away.

+|  Lo, even now, the northern snow-ridge glows--

+|  With purple shadowed--from pale gold to rose

+|  That shivers white beneath stars dawning cold.

+|  Lift up thine eyes ere all the colour fades.

+

+|  *Ah, rainbow-plumèd Love in airs of gold,*

+|  *Too late I turn, a shade among the shades.*

+|  *To follow, death-enthralled, thy flight through ages grey.*

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`The Vision: a Christmas Mystery`:

+

+.. class:: center large

+

+   The Vision.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY.

+

+|  PERSONS: A YOUNG HERD.  HIS MOTHER.

+|  SCENE: THE QUEEN'S CRAGS.

+|  TIME: CHRISTMAS EVE.

+

+*The herd stands at the foot of the Crags, gazing

+across the dark fells.  His mother enters.*

+

+|  MOTHER: Son, come home, nor tarry here

+|  In this peril-haunted place.

+|  My old heart is filled with fear

+|  By the white flame of thy face,

+|  And thine eyes whose restless fire

+|  Burneth ever wild and clear

+|  As red peats between the bars.

+|  Son, come home; the night is cold;

+|  Dropping from the wintry stars,

+|  Tingling frost falls through the air;

+|  See, the bents are white with rime;

+|  All the sheep are in the fold;

+|  All the cattle in the byre;

+|  Only we, of live things, roam

+|  O'er the fells so far from home;

+|  E'en the red fox in his lair

+|  Snuggles close to keep him warm;

+|  And the lonely, wandering hare

+|  Crouches, shivering, in her form;

+|  While by Greenlea's frozen edge

+|  Hides the mallard in the sedge.

+|  Son, come home; the ingle-seat

+|  Waits thee by the glowing peat,

+|  And the door is off the latch.

+|  Come, and we will feast and sing,

+|  As of old at Christmas time,

+|  Until thou wilt drowse and nod

+|  And with slumber-drooping head

+|  Gladly seek thy bracken-bed

+|  Underneath the heather-thatch;

+|  Where the healing sleep will bring

+|  Unto thee the peace of God.

+|  Son, come home!  Whom seekest thou there?

+

+|  HERD: Guenevere!  O Guenevere!

+

+|  MOTHER: Cry no more on Guenevere.

+|  Some wild warlock of the fells,

+|  Born beneath the Devil's Scars,

+|  Lures thee forth to drown thy soul

+|  Deep in Broomlea-water cold.

+|  Guenevere no longer dwells

+|  Anywhere beneath the stars;

+|  Though she walked these Crags of old,

+|  Many hundred years ago,

+|  Into earth she sank like snow;

+|  As a sunset-cloud in rain

+|  Breaks, and showers the thirsty plain,

+|  All the glory of her hair

+|  Fell to earth, we know not where.

+|  Leave thy foolish quest forlorn.

+|  Lo, to-night a King is born,

+|  Who, when earthly kings at last

+|  Into wildering night are passed,

+|  Yet shall wear the crown of morn.

+

+|  Mary, Thou whose love may turn

+|  Eyes that after evil burn,

+|  Draw his soul, that strays so far,

+|  To Thy Son's white throning-star.

+|  Queen of Heaven, hear my prayer!

+

+|  HERD: Guenevere!  O Guenevere!

+

+|  MOTHER: Low she lies, and may not hear.

+|  The white lily, Guenevere,

+|  Ruthless time has trodden down;

+|  Arthur is a tarnished crown,

+|  High Gawain a broken spear,

+|  Percival a riven shield;

+|  They, who taught the world to yield,

+|  Closed with death and lost the field,

+|  Stricken by the last despair:

+|  Launcelot is but a name

+|  Blown about the winds of shame;

+|  Surely God has quenched the flame

+|  That burned men's souls for Guenevere.

+

+|  Mary, heed a mother's woe;

+|  Mary, heed a mother's tears!

+|  Thou, whose heart so long ago

+|  Knew the pangs and hopes and fears

+|  We poor mortal mothers know;

+|  Thou, to whom, on Christmas-morn,

+|  Christ, the Son of God, was born;

+|  Thou whose mother-love hath pressed

+|  The sweet Babe against thy breast;

+|  And with wondering joy hath felt

+|  The warm clutch of little hands,

+|  When the Kings from far-off lands--

+|  Crowned with gold, in gold attire--

+|  With the simple shepherds knelt

+|  'Mid the beasts within the byre;

+|  Mary, if Thy heart, afraid,

+|  When beyond Thy care he strayed,

+|  Sometimes grieved that he must grow

+|  Unlike other boys and men--

+|  Filled with dreams beyond Thy ken,

+|  Anguished with diviner woe,

+|  Pangs more fiery than Thy pain,

+|  Deeper than Thy dark despair--

+|  From the perils of the night

+|  Give me back my son again.

+|  Thou, whose love may never fail,

+|  Heed a lonely mother's prayer!

+|  Come in all Thy healing might!

+

+*A sudden glory sweeps across the Fells.  The vision

+appears in a cleft of the Crags.  The herd and

+his mother kneel before it.*

+

+|  MOTHER: Mary, Queen of Heaven, hail!

+

+|  HERD (*falling forward*): Guenevere!  Guenevere!

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`THE THREE KINGS`:

+

+.. class:: center large

+

+   THE THREE KINGS.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   To C. J. S.

+

+.. vspace:: 3

+

+.. class:: center large

+

+   The Three Kings

+

+|  PERSONS: KING GARLAND, KING ARLO, KING ASHALORN.

+

+|  SEA-VOICES, WAVE-VOICES, AND WIND-VOICES.

+

+|  SCENE: *A rock in the midst of the North Sea,*

+|  *whereon the three kings, bound naked by conquering*

+|  *sea-rovers, have been left to perish.*

+

+|  VOICE OF THE DAWN-WIND: Awaken, O sea, from thy starry dream;

+|  Awaken, awaken!

+|  For delight of thy slumber not one pale gleam

+|  From dim star-clusters remaineth unshaken.

+|  All night I have haunted the valleys and rivers;

+|  Now hither I come--

+|  Ere, quickened with sunlight, the drowsy east quivers--

+|  To waken thy song, night-bewildered and dumb;

+|  To stir thy grey waters, of starlight forsaken,

+|  To loosen white foam in the red of the dawn.

+

+|  WAVE-VOICES: The sound of thy voice

+|  Has broken our sleep;

+|  All night we have waited thee, herald of light.

+|  We arise, we rejoice

+|  At thy bidding to leap,

+|  And spray with our laughter the trail of the night.

+|  All night we have waited thee, weary of stars--

+|  The little star-dreams, and the sleep without song;

+|  The deep-brooding slumber of silence that holds

+|  Our melody mute in the uttermost deep.

+|  O Wind of the Dawn, we have waited thee long;

+|  The sound of thy voice

+|  Has broken our sleep;

+|  We arise, we rejoice

+|  At thy bidding to leap,

+|  With a tumult of singing, a rapture of spray,

+|  To scatter our joy in the path of the day.

+

+|  GARLAND: Day comes at last, beyond the sea's grey rim;

+|  The young sun leaps in sudden might of gold.

+

+|  ASHALORN: Before his fire our lives will smoulder dim;

+|  Like stars we shine, we fade; the tale is told,

+|  And all our empty splendour put to scorn;

+|  Fate leaves us, who were clothed in pride, forlorn,

+|  To perish, naked, in this lonely sea.

+|  But yesterday we ruled as kings of earth;

+|  Frail men to-day; to-morrow, who shall be?

+

+|  ARLO: But yesterday my cup of life was filled

+|  To overflowing with the wine of mirth--

+|  The plashing joy from fruitful years distilled.

+

+|  GARLAND: But yesterday my kinghood sprang to birth;

+|  My fingers scarce had grasped the might new-born,

+|  When from my clutch the glittering pomp was torn.

+

+|  SEA-VOICES: They slumber, they slumber, the kings in their pride.

+|  The beak of the Rover is dipt in the tide;

+|  The sails of the Rover are red in the wind;

+|  And white is the trail of the foam flung behind.

+|  They have fallen, have fallen, the kings in their pride;

+|  Their sea-gates are forced by the rush of the tide;

+|  Their splendour is scattered as surf on the wind;

+|  And red is the trail of the terror behind.

+

+|  Forsaken, forlorn,

+|  On a rock of the sea,

+|  In anguish they bow,

+|  And wait for the night and the darkness to be;

+|  Oh, bright was the gold in their hair;

+|  The sea-weed, in scorn,

+|  Is twined in it now;

+|  Oh, rich was their raiment and rare,

+|  Blue, purple, and gold,

+|  In fold upon fold;

+|  Of glory and majesty shorn,

+|  They are clothed with the wind of despair.

+

+|  GARLAND: Lo, the live waters run to greet the day:

+|  Even so I laughed to see the soaring light;

+|  My life was poised like yonder curving wave

+|  To break in such bright revel of keen spray.

+

+|  ARLO: I counted not the years that took their flight,

+|  Gold-crowned and singing; every hour I stood,

+|  As one enchanted in an April wood,

+|  In some new paradise of scent and flowers.

+|  I counted not the countless, careless hours,

+|  The days of rapture and the nights of peace.

+|  How should I dream that such delight could pass,

+|  Such colour fade, such flowing numbers cease,

+|  My glory perish where was none to save,

+|  And all my strength be trodden in the grass?

+

+|  ASHALORN: Oh, blest art thou who diest in thy youth;

+|  Oh, blest art thou who failest in thy prime;

+|  While yet thine eyes are full of wondering truth;

+|  Ere yet thy feet have found the ways of thorn.

+|  Too long I wandered down the vale of time,

+|  A lonely wind, all songless and forlorn;

+|  For I have found the empty heart of things,

+|  The secret sorrow of the summer rose,

+|  And all the sadness of the April green;

+|  I know that every happy stream that springs

+|  Into a sea of bitter memories flows;

+|  I know the curse that God has set on kings--

+|  The solitary splendour and the crown

+|  Of desolation, and the prisoning state;

+|  The heart that yearns beneath the robe of gold,

+|  The soul that starves behind the golden gate.

+|  I know how chance has reared our earthly thrones

+|  Upon a shifting wrack of whitened bones,

+|  Of heroes fallen in the wars of old--

+|  By wind upbuilded and by wind cast down.

+

+|  SEA-VOICES: As foam on the edge of the waters of night,

+|  They flicker and fall;

+|  More brief than delight,

+|  More frail than their tears,

+|  They flicker and fall

+|  In the tide of the years;

+|  Awhile they may triumph, as lords of the earth,

+|  With feasting and mirth,

+|  Yet the winds and the waters shall sweep over all.

+

+|  VOICE OF THE WEST WIND: O wide-shifting wonder of sapphire and gold,

+|  O wandering glory of emerald and white,

+|  From the purple and green of the moorlands I come,

+|  To sweep o'er thy waters with turbulent flight,

+|  To sway thee, and swing thee abroad in my might;

+|  I lean to thy lips, to their white, curling foam,

+|  With laughter and kisses, to smite it to spray;

+|  To thine uttermost deep, unlitten and cold,

+|  I thrill thee with rapture, then wander away.

+

+|  I have drunk the red wine of the heather, and swept

+|  Over moorland and fell, for mile upon mile.

+|  The little blue loughs were merry, and leapt,

+|  With a shaking of laughter, in dim, dreaming hollows;

+|  The little blue loughs were merry, and flung

+|  Their spray on my wings as above them I swung;

+|  I laughed to their laughter, and dallied awhile;

+|  Then left them to sink in the silence that follows.

+

+|  In the forest I stirred, like the chant of thy tides,

+|  The song of the boughs and the branches a-swinging;

+|  The ashes and beeches and oak-trees were singing,

+|  Like the noise of thy waters when dark tempest rides.

+|  I swung on the crest of the pine-trees a-swaying,

+|  As now on thy green, flowing surges, O sea;

+|  I piped in my triumph, they danced to my playing;

+|  I left them a-murmur, to hasten to thee.

+

+|  The white clouds were driven like ships through the air,

+|  And grey flowed the shadows o'er sea-coloured bent,

+|  And dark on the heathland, and dark on the wold:

+|  But here on thy waters, where all things grow fair,

+|  They shadow with purple thine emerald and gold.

+|  My revel unbroken, my rapture unspent,

+|  To thy far-shining wonder, O sea, I have come,

+|  To sweep o'er thy splendour with turbulent flight;

+|  To sway thee, and swing thee abroad in my might;

+|  I lean to thy lips, to their white, curling foam,

+|  With laughter and kisses, to smite it to spray;

+|  To thine uttermost deep, unlitten and cold,

+|  I thrill thee with rapture, then wander away.

+

+|  GARLAND: There is no sadness in the world but death.

+|  The years that whitened o'er thy head have taken

+|  The colour from thy life, but still in me

+|  The blood beats young and red; yea, still my breath

+|  Is full of freshness as the wind that blows

+|  Across the morning-fells when night has shaken

+|  His cooling dews among the wakening heath.

+|  Yea, now the wind that lashes o'er the sea

+|  Stings all my quivering body to keen life

+|  And whips the blood into my straining limbs;

+|  And all the youth within me springs to fire;

+|  I am consumed with ravening desire

+|  For one brief, wild, delirious hour of strife;

+|  I yearn for every joy that flies or swims,

+|  Rides on the wind or with the water flows.

+|  Yet I must die by patient, slow degrees,

+|  With hourly wasting flesh and parching blood;

+|  Ah God, that I might leap into the flood,

+|  And perish struggling in the adventurous seas!

+

+|  ARLO: My mouth is filled with saltness, and I thirst

+|  For forest-pools that bubble in the shade,

+|  When loud the hot chase pants through every glade,

+|  And fleeing fawns from every thicket burst;

+|  Or clear wine vintaged when the world was young,

+|  Gurgling from deep-mouthed jars of coloured stone.

+

+|  ASHALORN: The noonday burns my body to the bone,

+|  And sets a coal of fire upon my tongue,

+|  Between my lips, and stifles all my breath.

+|  Oh come, thou only joy undying, death!

+

+|  WAVE-VOICES: O wind, that failing, failing, failing, dies,

+|  Beneath the heat of August-laden skies,

+|  Sinking in sleep, sinking in quiet sleep--

+|  Thy blue wings folded o'er our dreaming deep

+

+|  We too are weary, weary in the noon;

+|  We too will fall in shining slumber soon--

+|  Foamless and still, foamless and very still,

+|  Unstirred, unshaken by thy restless will.

+

+|  Yet there are eyes that cannot, cannot close,

+|  And strong souls racked by fiery, rending woes--

+|  Never to rest, never to gather rest

+|  By any stream of murmuring waters blest.

+

+|  But slumber falling, falling, on us lies,

+|  Silent and deep, beneath noon-laden skies,

+|  Silent and deep, silent and very deep,

+|  With blue wings folded o'er our dreaming sleep.

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center white-space-pre-line

+

+   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+|  VOICE OF THE EVENING WIND: I have shaken the noon

+|        from my wings, I arise

+|  To quicken the flame in the western skies--

+|  To blow the clouds to a streaming flame,

+|  Where the red sun sinks in the opal sea,

+|  And red as the heart of the opal glows

+|  His last wild gleam in the waters grey.

+|  O grey-green waters, curling to rose,

+|  The kings are glad of the dying day;

+|  The kings are weary; the white mists close--

+|  The white mists gather to cover their shame.

+

+|  ASHALORN: The evening mist is dank upon my brow,

+|  And cold upon my lips--yea, cold as death;

+|  Yet, through the gloom, she gazes on me now,

+|  As in our early-wedded days; her breath

+|  Is warm once more upon my withered cheek.

+|  O gaunt, grey lips, that strive but may not speak;

+|  O cold, grey eyes, that flicker in the gloam--

+|  Long have we strayed; come, let us wander home!

+

+|  ARLO: Like lit September woodlands, streameth down

+|  Her hair, beneath the circle of her crown;

+|  Of rarer, redder glory than the cold

+|  Dead metal that for ever strives to hold

+|  The ever-straying wonder of live gold!

+|  Like woodland pools, her eyes, a dreaming brown--

+|  Like woodland pools where autumn-splendours drown!

+|  O red-gold tresses, shaking in the gloam,

+|  Unto your light, unto your shade I come!

+

+|  GARLAND: Her eyes are azure as the wind-blown sea,

+|  With deep sea-shadowings of grey and green;

+|  And like an April storm her shining hair--

+|  Yea, all the glittering Aprils that have been,

+|  And all the wondering Aprils yet to be,

+|  Have stored their wealth of shower and sunshine there;

+|  Yea, all the thousand, thousand springs of earth

+|  New-lit and re-awakened at her birth,

+|  In her sweet body glow and glimmer fair.

+|  O wonder of sea-colours and white foam

+|  And April glories, to thine arms I come!

+

+|  VOICE OF THE EVENING WIND: The sun is gone,

+|        and the last, red flame

+|  Has faded away in a shimmer of rose--

+|  A shimmer of rose that shivers to grey.

+|  The kings are glad of the dying day--

+|  The kings are weary; the white mists close,

+|  The white mists gather to cover their shame.

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`THE SONGS OF QUEEN AVERLAINE`:

+

+.. class:: center large

+

+   THE SONGS OF QUEEN AVERLAINE.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   To M. B.

+

+.. vspace:: 3

+

+|  PERSONS: THE KING,

+|           QUEEN AVERLAINE,

+|           THE KNIGHT ARKELD.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center large white-space-pre-line

+

+   I\.

+   KING AND QUEEN.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   1\.

+

+|  The day has come; at last my dream unfolds

+|    White, wondering petals with the rising sun.

+|  No other glade in Love's world-garden holds

+|    So fair a bloom from vanquished winter won.

+

+|  Long, oh, so long I watched through budding hours,

+|    And, trembling, feared my dream would never wake;

+|  As, one by one, I saw star-tranced flowers

+|    Out on the night their dewy splendour shake.

+

+|  But with the earliest gleam of dawn it stirred,

+|    Knowing that Love had put the dark to flight;

+|  And I must sing more glad than any bird

+|    Because the sun has filled my dream with light.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   2\.

+

+|  Is it high noon, already, in the land?

+|  O Love, I dreamed that morn could never pass;

+|  That we might ever wander, hand in hand,

+|  As children in June-meadows plucking flowers,

+|  Through ever-waking, fresh-unfolding hours:

+|  Yet now we sink love-wearied in the grass;

+|  Yea, it is noon, high noon in all the land.

+

+|  The young wind slumbers; all the little birds

+|  That sang about us in the fields of morn

+|  Are songless now; no happy flight of words

+|  On Love's lip hovers--Love has waxed to noon.

+|  Ah, God, if Love should wane to evening soon

+|  To perish in a sunless world, forlorn,

+|  And cease with the last song of weary birds!

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   3\.

+

+|  At dawn I gathered flowers of white,

+|  To garland them for your delight.

+

+|  At noon I gathered flowers of blue,

+|  To weave them into joy for you.

+

+|  At eve I gather purple flowers,

+|  To strew above the withered hours.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   4\.

+

+|  She knelt at eve beside the stream,

+|  And, sighing, sang: "O waters clear,

+|  Forsaken now of joy and fear,

+|  I come to drown a withered dream.

+

+|  "Unseen of day, I let it fall

+|  Within the shadow of my hair.

+|  O little dream, that bloomed so fair,

+|  The waters hide you after all!"

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   5\.

+

+|  "Is it not dawn?" she cried, and raised her head,

+|  "Or hath the sun, grey-shrouded, yesternight,

+|  Gone down with Love for ever to the dead?

+|  When Love has perished, can there yet be light?"

+

+|  "Yea, it is dawn," one answered: "see the dew

+|  Quivers agleam, and all the east is white;

+|  While in the willow song begins anew."

+|  "When Love has perished, can there yet be light?"

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 3

+

+.. class:: center medium white-space-pre-line

+

+   II\.

+   AVERLAINE AND ARKELD.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   1\.

+

+|  ARKELD: Oh, why did you lift your eyes to mine?

+|  Oh, why did you lift your drooping head?

+

+|  AVERLAINE: The tangled threads of the fates entwine

+|  Our hearts that follow as children led.

+

+|  ARKELD: From the utmost ends of the earth we came,

+|  As star moves starward through wildering night.

+

+|  AVERLAINE: Our souls have mingled as flame with flame,

+|  Yea, they have mingled as light with light.

+

+|  ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!

+

+|  AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!

+

+|  ARKELD: The stars in their courses move through the sky

+|  Unswerving, unheeding, cold and blind.

+

+|  AVERLAINE: Why did you linger nor pass me by

+|  Where the cross-roads meet in the ways that wind?

+

+|  ARKELD: I saw your eyes from the dusk of your hair

+|  Flame out with sorrow and yearning love.

+

+|  AVERLAINE: And I, who wandered with grey despair,

+|  Looking up, saw heaven in blossom above.

+

+|  ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!

+

+|  AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!

+

+|  ARKELD: May we not go as we came, alone,

+|  Unto the ends of the earth anew?

+

+|  AVERLAINE: May we draw afresh from the rose new-blown

+|  The golden sunlight, the crystal dew?

+

+|  ARKELD: Yea, love between us has bloomed as a rose

+|  Out of the desert under our feet.

+

+|  AVERLAINE: May we forget how the red heart glows,

+|  Forget that the dew on the petals is sweet?

+

+|  ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!

+

+|  AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!

+

+|  ARKELD: Have the ages brought us together that we

+|  Might tremble, start at shadows, and cry?

+

+|  AVERLAINE: Yea, it has been, and ever will be

+|  Till Sorrow be slain or Love's self die.

+

+|  ARKELD: Stronger than Sorrow is Love; and Hate,

+|  The brother of Love, shall end our Sorrow.

+

+|  AVERLAINE: The Shadow is strong with the strength of Fate,

+|  And, slain, would rise from the grave to-morrow.

+

+|  ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!

+

+|  AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow for ever between!

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   2\.

+

+|  AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, and tear with ruthless hands

+|  The golden web wherein, too late, Love strove

+|  To weave us joy and bind us heart to heart.

+

+|  ARKELD: Yea, we must part, and strew on desert-sands

+|  Petal by petal all the rose of Love,

+|  And part for ever where the cross-ways part.

+

+|  AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, and never turn our eyes

+|  From strange horizons, desolate and far,

+|  Though Love cry ever: "Turn but once, sad heart!"

+

+|  ARKELD: Yea, we must part, and under alien skies

+|  Must follow after some cold, gleaming star,

+|  And roam, as north and south winds roam, apart.

+

+|  AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, ere Love be grown too strong

+|  And we too helpless to resist his might;

+|  While each may go with pure, unshamed heart.

+

+|  ARKELD: Yea, we must part; and though we do Love wrong,

+|  He will the more subdue us in our flight,

+|  And hold us each more surely his, apart.

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 3

+

+.. class:: center large

+

+   III\.

+   QUEEN AVERLAINE.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   1\.

+

+|  O love, I bade you go; and you have borne

+|  The summer with you from the valley-lands;

+|  The poppy-flame has perished from the corn;

+|  And in the chill, wan light of early morn

+|  The reapers come in doleful, starveling bands,

+|  To bind the blackened sheaves with listless hands;

+|  For rain has put their sowing-toil to scorn.

+

+|  O Love, I bade you go; and autumn brings

+|  Bleak desolation; yet within my heart

+|  Unquenched and fierce the flame you kindled springs;

+|  For, echoing all day long, the courtyard rings

+|  As loud it rang when, rending Love apart,

+|  Your white horse cantered--swift and keen to start--

+|  Into a world of other queens and kings.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   2\.

+

+|  I bade you go; ah, wherefore are you gone?

+|  How could you leave me dark and desolate,

+|  O Sun of Love, that for brief summer shone?

+|  Mine eyes are ever on the western gate,

+|  Half-wishing, half-foredreading your return.

+|  Return, O Love, return!

+

+|  I cannot live without you; through the dark

+|  I stretch blind hands to you across the world;

+|  All day on unknown battle-fields I mark

+|  Your sword's red course, your banner blue unfurled;

+|  Yet never, in my day-dreams, you return.

+|  Return, O Love, return!

+

+|  Nay, you are gone: O Love, I bade you go.

+|  I would not have you come again to be

+|  A stranger in this house of silent woe,

+|  Where, being all, you would be naught to me.

+|  Mine, mine in dreams, but lost if you return;

+|  Oh, nevermore return!

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   3\.

+

+|  "To-day a wandering harper came

+|  With outland tales of deeds of fame;

+|  I hearkened from the noonday bright

+|  Until the failing of the light,

+|  The while he sang of joust and fight;

+|  Yet never once I caught your name.

+

+|  Oh, whither, whither are you gone,

+|  Whose name victorious ever shone

+|  Above all knights of other lands?

+|  Across what wilderness of sands?

+|  By what dead sea-deserted strands?

+|  On what far quest of Love forlorn?

+

+|  I loved you when men called you Lord

+|  Arkeld, the never-sleeping sword;

+|  Yet now, when all your might is furled,

+|  And you no longer crest the world,

+|  More are you mine than when you hurled

+|  Destruction on the embattled horde.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   4\.

+

+|  Oh, deeper in the silent house

+|    The silence falls;

+|  Only the stir of bat or mouse

+|    About the walls.

+

+|  No cry, no voice in any room,

+|    No gust of breath;

+|  As if, within the clutch of doom,

+|    We waited death.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   5\.

+

+|  The King is dead;

+|    No longer now

+|  The cold eyes gleam

+|    Beneath his brow.

+

+|  O cold, grey eyes,

+|    Wherein the light

+|  Of Love at dawn

+|    Seemed clear and bright,

+

+|  No true Love burned

+|    Your cold desire,

+|  Which mirrored but

+|    My own heart's fire.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   6\.

+

+|  The King died yesterday....  Ah, no, he died

+|    When young Love perished long, so long ago;

+|  And on his throne, as marble at my side,

+|    Has reigned a carven image, cold as snow,

+|  Though all men bowed before it, crying: "King!"

+

+|  Too late, too late the chains which held me fall;

+|    Rock-bound, I bade the victor-knight go by;

+|  And now, when time has loosed me from the thrall,

+|    I know not where he tarries, 'neath what sky

+|  He waits the winter's end, the dawn of spring.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   7\.

+

+|  Spring comes no more for me: though young March blow

+|  To flame the larches, and from tree to tree

+|  The green fire leap, till all the woodlands glow--

+|  Though every runnel, filled to overflow,

+|  Bear sea-ward, loud and brown with melted snow,

+|  Spring comes no more for me!

+

+|  Spring comes no more for me: though April light

+|  The flame of gorse above the peacock sea;

+|  Though in an interweaving mesh of white

+|  The seagulls hover 'neath the cliff's sheer height;

+|  Though, hour by hour, new joys are winged for flight,

+|  Spring comes no more for me!

+

+|  Spring comes no more for me: though May will shake

+|  White flame of hawthorn over all the lea,

+|  Till every thick-set hedge and tangled brake

+|  Puts on fresh flower of beauty for her sake;

+|  Though all the world from winter-sleep awake,

+|  Spring comes no more for me!

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   8\.

+

+|  I wandered through the city till I came

+|    Within the vast cathedral, cool and dim;

+|  I looked upon the windows all aflame

+|    With blazoned knights and saints and seraphim.

+

+|  I looked on kings in purple, gold and blue,

+|    On martyrs high before whom all men bow;

+|  Until a gleam of light my footsteps drew

+|    Before a shining seraph, on whose brow

+

+|  A little flame, for ever pure and white,

+|    Unwavering burns--the symbol of our love;

+|  And as I knelt before him in the night,

+|    He looked, compassionate, on me from above.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   9\.

+

+|  I heard a harper 'neath the castle walls

+|  Sing, for night-shelter in the house of thralls,

+|  A song of hapless lovers; in the shade

+|  I paused awhile, unseen of man or maid.

+

+|  Taking his harp, he touched the moaning strings,

+|  And sang of queens unloved and loveless kings;

+|  His song shot through my fluttering heart like flame

+|  Till, wondering, I heard him breathe your name.

+

+|  Oh, then I knew how all the deathless wrong

+|  Time wrought of old is but a harper's song;

+|  And all the hopeless sorrow of long years

+|  An idle tale to win a stranger's tears.

+

+|  Yea, in the song of Love's immortal dead

+|  Our love was told; with shuddering heart I fled,

+|  And strove to pass upon my way unseen,

+|  But song was hushed with whispers: "Lo, the Queen!"

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   10\.

+

+|  Was it for this we loved, O Time, to be

+|  Among Love's deathless through eternity,

+|  Set high on lone, divided peaks above

+|  The sheltered summer-valley, broad and green?

+|  Was it for this our joy and grief have been,

+|  Our barren day-dreams, dream-deserted nights--

+|  That valley-lovers, looking up, might see

+|  How vain is Love among the starry heights,

+|  And, loving, sigh: "How vain a thing is Love!"?

+

+|  O Love, that we had found thee in the shade

+|  Where, all day long, the deep, leaf-hidden glade

+|  Hears but the moan of some forsaken dove,

+|  Or the clear song of happy, nameless streams;

+|  Where, all night long, the August moonlight gleams

+|  Through warm, green dusk, no longer cold and white!

+|  O Love, that we had found thee, unafraid,

+|  One summer morn, and followed thee till night,

+|  As unknown valley-lovers follow Love!

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   11\.

+

+|  I have grown old, awaiting spring's return,

+|    And, now spring comes, I stand like winter grey

+|  In a young world; yet warm within me burn

+|    The morning-fires Love kindled in youth's day.

+

+|  I have grown old; the young folk look on me

+|    With sighs, and wonder that I once was fair,

+|  And whisper one another: "Is this she?

+|    Did summer ever light that winter hair?

+

+|  "Ah, she is old; yet, she, too, once was young:

+|    Yea, loved as we love even, for men tell

+|  How bright her beauty burned on every tongue,

+|    And how a knightly stranger loved her well.

+

+|  "Yet Love grows old that beats so young and warm;

+|    His leaping fires in dust and ashes fail;

+|  Shall we, too, wither in the winter-storm,

+|    And wander thus one April, old and frail?"

+

+|  Love grows not old, O lovers, though youth die,

+|    And bodily beauty perish as the flower;

+|  Though all things fail, though spring and summer fly,

+|    Love's fire burns quenchless till the last dark hour.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   12\.

+

+|  O valley-lovers, think you love,

+|  Being all of joy, knows naught of sorrow?

+|  A day, a night

+|  Of swift delight

+|  That fears no dread, grey-dawning morrow?

+

+|  O valley-lovers, think you love

+|  Knows only laughter, naught of weeping?

+|  A rose-red fire

+|  Of warm desire

+|  For ever burning, never sleeping?

+

+|  O lovers, little know ye Love.

+|  Love is a flame that feeds on sorrow--

+|  A lone star bright

+|  Through endless night

+|  That waits a never-dawning morrow.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   13\.

+

+|  "Thus would I sing of life,

+|  Ere I must yield my breath:

+|  Though broken in the strife,

+|  I sought not after death.

+|  Though ruthless years have scourged

+|  My soul with sorrow's brands,

+|  And, day by day, have urged

+|  My feet o'er desert-sands;

+|  Yet would I rather tread

+|  Again the bitter trail,

+|  Than lie, calm-browed and pale,

+|  Among the loveless dead.

+

+|  No pang would I forego,

+|  No stab of suffering,

+|  No agony of woe,

+|  If I to life might cling;

+|  If I might follow still,

+|  For evermore, afar,

+|  O'er barren dale and hill,

+|  My Love's unfading star.

+|  Yea, now, with failing breath,

+|  Thus would I sing of life:

+|  Though broken in the strife,

+|  I sought not after death.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   14\.

+

+|  Darkness has come upon me in the end;

+|  Darkness has come upon me like a friend,

+|  Yet undesired; why comest thou, O night,

+|  To seal mine eyes for ever from the light?

+

+|  Darkness has come upon me; yet a star

+|  Burns through the night and beckons me from far.

+|  Look up, O eyes, unfaltering, without fear;

+|  O morning-star of Love, the dawn is near!

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`THE GOLDEN HELM`:

+

+.. class:: center large

+

+   THE GOLDEN HELM.

+

+.. vspace:: 3

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   The Golden Helm

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   I\.

+

+|  Across his stripling shoulders Geoffrey felt

+|  The knighting-sword fall lightly, and he heard

+|  The King's voice bid him rise; and at the word

+|  He rose, new-flushed with knighthood, swiftly grown

+|  To sudden manhood, though, but now, he knelt

+|  A vigil-wearied squire before the throne.

+|  He paused one moment while the people turned

+|  To look on him with eyes that kindled bright,

+|  Seeing his face aglow with strange, new light;

+|  Yet them he saw not where they watched amazed,

+|  And, though like azure flames Queen Hild's eyes burned,

+|  Beyond the shadow of the throne he gazed

+|  To where, in kindred rapture, young Christine

+|  Stood, tremulous and white, in wind-flower grace--

+|  Beneath her thick, dark hair, her happy face

+|  Pale-gleaming 'midst the ruddy maiden-throng;

+|  But, following Geoffrey's eyes, the trembling Queen

+|  Now bade the harpers rouse the air with song:

+|  From pulsing throat and silver-throbbing string

+|  The music soared, light-winged, and, fluttering, fell;

+|  When, startled as one waking from a spell,

+|  Geoffrey stepped back among the waiting knights;

+|  While knelt another squire before the King.

+|  In Queen Hild's eyes yet hovered stormy lights,

+|  Beneath her glooming brows, as waters gleam

+|  Under snow-laden skies; the summer day

+|  For her in that brief glance had shivered grey,

+|  Empty of light and song.  She only heard

+|  The King and knights as people of a dream;

+|  Yet keenly Geoffrey's lightest, laughing word

+|  Stung to the quick, and stabbed her quivering life,

+|  Till from each shuddering wound the red joy flowed;

+|  And, though a ruddy fire on each cheek glowed,

+|  She felt her drainèd heart within her cold;

+|  Then all at once a hot thought stirred new strife

+|  Within her breast, and suddenly grown old

+|  And wise in treacherous imagining,

+|  She pressed her thin lips to a bitter smile,

+|  And strove with laughing mask to hide the guile

+|  That, slowly welling, through her body poured

+|  Cold-blooded life that feels no arrowy sting

+|  Of joy or hope, nor thrust of pity's sword.

+|  To Christine, where she yet enraptured stood,

+|  Hild, turning, spake kind words, and coldly praised

+|  The new-made knight.  Each word Christine amazed

+|  Drank in with joyous heart and eager ears;

+|  To her it seemed ne'er lived a Queen so good;

+|  And love's swift rapture filled her eyes with tears.

+|  For her true heart, the day-long pageant moved

+|  Round Geoffrey's shining presence; king and knight

+|  But shone for her with pale, reflected light.

+|  As trancèd planets circling round the sun,

+|  About the radiant head of her beloved

+|  The dim throngs moved until the day was done.

+|  When lucent gold suffused the cloudless west,

+|  And lingering thrush-notes failed in drowsy song,

+|  She left, at last, the weary maiden-throng,

+|  To stray alone through dew-hung garden-glades;

+|  And all the love unsealed within her breast

+|  Flowed out from her to light the darkest shades.

+|  Her quivering maiden-body could not hold

+|  The sudden welling of love's loosened flood;

+|  Through all her limbs it gushed, and in her blood

+|  It stormed each throbbing pulse with blissful ache;

+|  It seemed to spray the utmost glooms with gold,

+|  And scatter glistening dews in every brake.

+|  While yet she moved in rapture unafraid

+|  Among the lilies, down the Grey Nun's Walk,

+|  She heard behind the snapping of a stalk,

+|  And stayed transfixed, nor dared to turn her head,

+|  But stood a solitary, trembling maid--

+|  Forlorn and frail, with all her courage fled.

+|  Thus Geoffrey found her as, hot-foot, he pressed

+|  To pour about her all the glowing tide

+|  Day-pent within his heart; the flood-gates wide,

+|  His love swept over her, sea after sea,

+|  Until life almost swooned within her breast,

+|  And she seemed like to drown in ecstasy.

+|  Yet, as the tempest sank in calm at last,

+|  She rose from out the foam of love, new-born--

+|  As Venus from the irised surf of morn--

+|  To such triumphant beauty, Geoffrey, thralled,

+|  Before her stood in wonder rooted fast;

+|  Even his love within him bowed appalled

+|  In tongueless worship as he gazed on her;

+|  While, lily-like, the trancèd flowers among,

+|  She stood, love-radiant, and above her hung

+|  The canopy of star-enkindling night;

+|  Though, when again she moved with joyous stir,

+|  He sprang to her in love's unchallenged might.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   II\.

+

+|  All night, beside her slumbering lord, the Queen

+|  Tossed sleepless--every aching sense astrain

+|  With tingling wakefulness that racked like pain

+|  Her weary limbs; all night, in wide-eyed dread,

+|  She watched the slow hours moving dark between

+|  The glimmering window and the curtained bed.

+|  The fitful calling of the owl, all night,

+|  Struck like the voice of terror on her ears;

+|  With brushing wings, about her taloned fears

+|  Fluttered till dawn: when, as the summer gloom,

+|  Grey-quivering, spilt in silver-showering light,

+|  She rose and stood within the dawning room,

+|  Shivering and pale--her long, unbraided hair

+|  Each moment quickening to a livelier gold

+|  About her snowy shoulders; yet, more cold

+|  Than the still gleam of winter-frozen meres,

+|  Her blue eyes shone with strange, unseeing stare,

+|  As though they sought to pierce some mist of fears;

+|  And, when she turned, the old familiar things

+|  Unknown and alien seemed to her sight--

+|  Outworn and faded in the morning light

+|  The rose-embroidered tapestries, and frail

+|  The painted Love that hung on irised wings

+|  Above the sleeping King.  Dark-browed and pale

+|  She looked upon her lord, and fresh despair

+|  With dreadful calm through all her being stole,

+|  And froze with icy breath the flickering soul

+|  That strove within her.  Evil courage steeled

+|  Her heart once more, as, combing back her hair,

+|  She watched the waking world of wood and field:

+|  Hay-harvesters with long scythes flashing white;

+|  The dewy-browsing deer; the blue smoke-curl

+|  Above some woodland hut; a kerchiefed girl

+|  Driving the kine afield with loitering pace.

+|  But, as a youthful rider came in sight,

+|  She from the casement turned with darkening face,

+|  And looked not out again, and fiercely pressed

+|  Her white teeth in her quivering underlip,

+|  To stifle the wild cry that strove to slip

+|  From her strained throat; with clutching hands she sought

+|  To stay the throbbing tumult of her breast

+|  That fluttered like a bird in meshes caught.

+

+|  Christine as yet in dreamless slumber lay

+|  Within her turret-chamber; but a bird

+|  Within the laurel singing softly stirred

+|  Her eyes to wakeful life, and from her bed

+|  She rose and stood within the light of day,

+|  White-faced and wondering, with lifted head.

+|  As April-butterflies, new-winged for flight,

+|  That poise awhile in quivering amaze,

+|  Ere they may dare the unknown, glittering ways

+|  Of perilous airs--upon the brink of morn

+|  She paused one moment in the showering light,

+|  In radiant ecstasy of youth forlorn.

+|  Then swift remembrance flushed her virgin snow,

+|  And wakened in her eyes the living fire;

+|  With joyous haste she drew her bright attire

+|  About her trembling limbs, with eager hands,

+|  Veiling her maiden beauty's morning glow,

+|  Before she looked abroad on meadowlands,

+|  Where Geoffrey rode at dawn.  Across the blaze

+|  Of dandelions silvering to seed,

+|  She saw his white horse swing with easy speed;

+|  He rode with head exultant in the breeze

+|  That lifted his brown hair.  With lingering gaze

+|  She watched him vanish down an aisle of trees;

+|  Then, swiftly gathering her dark hair in braids

+|  Above her slender neck, she crossed the floor

+|  With noiseless step, unlatched the creaking door,

+|  And stole in trembling silence down the stair,

+|  Intent to reach the garden ere the maids

+|  Should come with chattering tongues and laughter there;

+|  When by her side she heard a rustling stir:

+|  The arras parted, and before her stood

+|  Queen Hild in proud, imperious womanhood,

+|  Looking upon her with cold, smiling eyes.

+|  In startled wonder Christine glanced at her.

+|  Then spake the Queen: "Do maids thus early rise

+|  To tend their household duties, or to feed

+|  The doves, relinquishing sleep's precious hours

+|  To see the morning dew upon the flowers

+|  And what frail blooms have perished 'neath the moon?

+|  To reach the Grey Nun's Walk, mayhap you speed--

+|  To count the stricken buds of lilies strewn

+|  O'ernight upon the soil by careless feet

+|  That wandered there so late?  Yea, now I know,

+|  Christine, because you flush and tremble so.

+|  Yet look you not on me with eyes that burn;

+|  I would not stay you when you go to greet

+|  The rider of the dawn on his return.

+|  Think you I leave my bed at break of day--

+|  I, Hild the Queen--to thwart a lover's kiss?

+|  Think you my love of you could stoop to this,

+|  Though you would wed a fledgling, deedless Knight?

+|  Nay, shrink you not from me, turn not away;

+|  Because my heart has never known love's light,

+|  I fain would hear your happy tale of love,

+|  That I may prosper you and your fair youth.

+|  Will you not trust me?"  Blind with love's glad truth,

+|  Christine sank down within Hild's outstretched arms.

+|  Speechless, awhile, with sobbing breath she strove;

+|  Then poured out all the tale of love's alarms,

+|  Raptures, despairs, and deathless ecstasies,

+|  In one quick torrent from her brimming heart;

+|  Then, quaking, ceased, and drew herself apart,

+|  Dismayed that she so easily had revealed

+|  To this white, cold-eyed Queen love's sanctities.

+|  Yet Hild moved not, but stood, with hard lips sealed,

+|  Until, the chiming of the turret-bell

+|  Recalling her, she spake with far-off voice:

+|  "I, loveless, in your innocent love rejoice.

+|  May nothing stem its eager raptured course!

+|  Oh, that my barren heart could love so well,

+|  And feel the surge of love's subduing force!

+|  Yet even I from out my dearth may give

+|  To you, Christine.  Would you that Geoffrey's name

+|  Shall shine, unchallenged, on the lists of fame?

+|  If you would have him win for you the crown

+|  Of knightly immortality, and live

+|  Triumphant on men's tongues in high renown,

+|  Follow me now."  With cold, exulting eyes

+|  She raised the arras, opening to the light

+|  An unknown stair-way clambering into night.

+|  Within the caverned wall she swiftly passed.

+|  Christine for one brief moment in surprise

+|  Uncertain paused; then, wondering, followed fast.

+|  The falling arras shutting out the day,

+|  She stumbled blindly through the soaring gloom--

+|  Enclosing dank and chilly as the tomb

+|  Her panting life; and unto her it seemed

+|  That ever, as she climbed, more sheer the way

+|  Before her rose, and ever fainter gleamed

+|  The wan, white star of light that overhead

+|  Hovered remote.  Far up the stair she heard

+|  A silken rustling as, without a word,

+|  Relentlessly Queen Hild before her sped

+|  For ever up the ever-soaring steep.

+|  But when it almost seemed that she must fall--

+|  So loudly in her ears the pulses beat,

+|  And each step seemed to sink beneath her feet--

+|  She heard the shrilly grating of a key,

+|  And saw, above her, in the unseen wall,

+|  A dazzling square of day break suddenly.

+|  Within the lighted doorway Queen Hild turned

+|  To reach a helping hand, and, as she bent

+|  To clutch the swooning maiden, well-nigh spent,

+|  And drew her to the chamber, weak and faint,

+|  Through her gold hair so rare a lustre burned,

+|  It seemed to Christine that an aureoled saint

+|  Leaned out from heaven to snatch her from the deep.

+|  Then, dizzily, she sank upon the floor,

+|  Dreaming that toil was over evermore,

+|  And she secure in Love's celestial fold;

+|  Till, waking gradually as from a sleep,

+|  Her dark eyes opened on a blaze of gold.

+|  She sat within a chamber hung around

+|  With glistering tapestry, whereon a knight,

+|  Who bore a golden helm above the fight,

+|  For ever triumphed o'er assailing swords,

+|  Or led the greenwood chase with horse and hound,

+|  While far behind him lagged the dames and lords

+|  And all the hunting train; till he, at length,

+|  Brought low the antlered quarry on the brink

+|  Of some deep, craggy cleft, wherefrom did shrink

+|  The quailing hounds with lathered flanks aquake.

+|  As Christine looked on them, her maiden-strength

+|  Returned to her; and now, more broad awake,

+|  She saw, within the centre of the room,

+|  A golden table whereon glittered bright

+|  A casket of wrought gold, and, in the light,

+|  Queen Hild, awaiting her, with smiling lips,

+|  And laughing words: "Is this then love's sad doom,

+|  To perish, fainting, in light's brief eclipse

+|  Between a curtain and a closed door?

+|  Shall this bright casket ever hold, unsought,

+|  The golden helm--in elfin-ages wrought

+|  For some star-destined knight--because love's heart

+|  Grows faint within her?  Shall the world no more

+|  Acclaim its helmèd lord?"  But, with a start,

+|  Christine arose, and swiftly forward came

+|  With eager eyes, and stooped with fluttering breast--

+|  Her slender, shapely hands together pressed

+|  In tense expectancy, and all her face

+|  With quivering light of wondering love aflame.

+|  The Queen bent down, and in a breathing space

+|  Unlocked the casket with a golden key,

+|  And deftly loosed a little golden pin;

+|  The heavy lid swung open and, within,

+|  To Christine's eyes revealed the golden helm.

+|  Then spake Queen Hild, once more: "Your love-gift see!

+|  Think you that any smith in all the realm

+|  Can beat dull metal to so fair a casque?

+|  In jewelled caverns of enchantment old

+|  This helm was wrought of magic-tempered gold

+|  To yieldless strength, by elfin-hammers chased,

+|  That toiled unwearied at their age-long task,

+|  And over it an unknown legend traced

+|  In letters of some world-forgotten tongue.

+|  At noon, with careful footing, down the stair

+|  Unto the hall the casket you must bear,

+|  When King and knight are gathered round the board,

+|  And, ere the tales be told or songs be sung,

+|  Acclaim your love the golden-helmed lord."

+|  Christine, awhile, in speechless wonderment,

+|  Hung o'er the glistering helm, and silence fell

+|  Within the arrased chamber like a spell;

+|  While softly, on some distant, sunlit roof,

+|  The basking pigeons cooed with deep content;

+|  Till, far below, a sudden-clanging hoof

+|  Startled the morn.  The women's lifted eyes

+|  One moment met in kindred ecstasy;

+|  Then Hild, with hopeless shudder, shaking free,

+|  With strained voice spake: "Why do you longer wait?

+|  Your love returns; shall he, in sad surprise,

+|  Find no glad face to greet him at the gate?"

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   III\.

+

+|  As some new jest was tossed from tongue to tongue,

+|  Light laughter rippled round the midday board,

+|  Beneath the bannered rafters: dame and lord

+|  And maid and squire with merry chattering

+|  Sat feasting; though no motley humour wrung

+|  A smile from Hild, where she, beside the King,

+|  Watched pale and still.  She saw on Geoffrey's face

+|  Grave wonder that he caught not anywhere

+|  Among the maids the dusk of Christine's hair,

+|  Or sunlight of her glance.  His eyes, between

+|  The curtained doorway and her empty place,

+|  Kept eager, anxious vigil for Christine.

+|  But when, at last, the lingering meal nigh o'er,

+|  The waking harp-notes trembled through the hush,

+|  Like the light, fitful prelude of the thrush

+|  Ere his full song enchant the domèd elm;

+|  The arras parting, through the open door

+|  She came.  Before her borne, the golden helm

+|  Within the dim-lit hall shone out so bright,

+|  That lord and dame in rustling wonder rose,

+|  And squire and maiden sought to gather close,

+|  With questioning lips, about the love-bright maid.

+|  Christine, unheeding, turned nor left nor right;

+|  With lifted head and eager step unstayed,

+|  She strode to Geoffrey, while he stood alone,

+|  Radiant with wondering love--as one who sees

+|  The light of high, eternal mysteries

+|  Illume awhile the mortal shade that moves

+|  From out oblivion unto night unknown,

+|  Hugging a little grace of joys and loves.

+|  Before him now she came and, kneeling, spake,

+|  With slow, clear-welling voice: "In ages old

+|  This helm was wrought from elfin-hammered gold,

+|  For one who, in the after-days, should be

+|  Supreme above his kind, as, in the brake

+|  Of branching fern, the solitary tree

+|  That crests the fell-top.  Unto you I bring

+|  The gift of destiny, that, as the sun

+|  New-risen of your knighthood, newly-won,

+|  The wondering world may see its glory shine."

+|  As Christine spake, with questioning glance the King

+|  Turned to the Queen, who gave no answering sign.

+|  Then, stretching forth his arm, he cried: "Sir knight,

+|  I know not by what evil chance this maid

+|  Has climbed the secret newell-stair unstayed

+|  And reached the casket-chamber, and has borne

+|  From thence the Helm of Strife, whereon the light

+|  Of day has never fallen, night or morn,

+|  For seven hundred years; but, ere you take

+|  The doomful gift, know this: he who shall dare

+|  To don the golden helm must ever fare

+|  Upon the edge of peril, ever ride

+|  Between dark-ambushed dangers, ever wake

+|  Unto the thunderous crash of battle-tide.

+|  Oh, pause before you take the fateful helm.

+|  Will you, so young, forego, for evermore,

+|  The sheltered haven-raptures of the shore,

+|  To strive in ceaseless tempest, till, at last,

+|  The fury-crested wave shall overwhelm

+|  Your broken life on death's dark crag upcast?"

+|  He ceased, and stood with eyes of hot appeal;

+|  An aching silence shuddered through the hall;

+|  None stirred nor spake, though, swaying like to fall,

+|  Christine, in mute, imploring agony,

+|  Wavered nigh death.  As glittering points of steel

+|  Queen Hild's eyes gleamed in bitter victory.

+|  But all were turned to Geoffrey, where he stood

+|  In pillared might of manhood, very fair;

+|  His face a little paled beneath his hair,

+|  Though bright his eyes with all the light of day.

+|  At length he spake: "For evil or for good,

+|  I take the Helm of Strife; let come what may."

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   IV\.

+

+|  Dawn shivered coldly through the meadowlands;

+|  The ever-trembling aspens by the stream

+|  Quivered with chilly light and fitful gleam;

+|  Ruffling the heavy foliage of the plane,

+|  Until the leaves turned, like pale, lifted hands,

+|  A cold gust stirred with presage of near rain.

+|  Coldly the light on Geoffrey's hauberk fell;

+|  But yet more cold on Christine's heart there lay

+|  The winter-clutch of grief, as, far away,

+|  She saw him ride, and in the stirrup rise

+|  And, turning, wave to her a last farewell.

+|  Beyond the ridge he vanished, and her eyes

+|  Caught the far flashing of the helm of gold

+|  One moment as it glanced with mocking light;

+|  Then naught but tossing pine-trees filled her sight.

+|  Yet darker gloomed the woodlands 'neath the drench

+|  Of pillared showers; colder and yet more cold

+|  Her heart had shuddered since the last, hot wrench

+|  Of parting overnight.  Though still her mouth

+|  Felt the mute impress of love's sacred seal;

+|  Though still through all her senses seemed to steal

+|  The heavy fume of wound-wort that had hung

+|  All night about the hedgerows--parched with drouth;

+|  Though the first notes the missel-cock had sung,

+|  Ere darkness fled, resounded in her ears;

+|  Yet no hot tempest of tumultuous woe

+|  Shook her young body.  As night-fallen snow

+|  Burdens with numb despair young April's green,

+|  Her sorrow lay upon her; hopes and fears

+|  Within her slept.  As something vaguely seen

+|  Nor realised--since yesterday's dread noon

+|  Had shattered all love's triumph--life had passed

+|  About her like a dream by doom o'ercast.

+|  Long hours she sat, with silent, folded hands,

+|  And face that glimmered like a winter moon

+|  In cloudy hair.  Across the rain-grey lands

+|  She gazed with eyes unseeing; till she heard

+|  A step within her chamber, and her name

+|  Fell dully on her ear; then like a flame

+|  Sharp anguish shot through every aching limb

+|  With keen remembrance.  Suddenly she stirred,

+|  And, turning, looked on Hild.  "Grieve you for him..."

+|  The Queen began; then, with a little gasp,

+|  Her voice failed, and she shrank before the gaze

+|  Of Christine's eyes, and, shrivelled by the blaze

+|  Of fires her hand had kindled, all her pride

+|  Fell shredded, and not even the gold clasp

+|  Of queenhood held, her naked deed to hide.

+|  She quailed, and, turning, fled from out the room.

+|  Soon Christine's wrath was drowned in whelming grief,

+|  And in the fall of tears she found relief--

+|  As brooding skies in sweet release of rain.

+|  All day she wept, until, at length, the gloom

+|  Of eve laid soothing hands upon her pain.

+|  Then, once again, she rose, calm-browed, and sped

+|  Downstairs with silent step, and reached, unstayed,

+|  The Grey Nun's Walk, where all alone a maid

+|  Drank in the rain-cooled air.  With low-breathed words,

+|  They whispered long together, while, o'erhead,

+|  From rain-wet branches rang the song of birds.

+|  The maiden often paused as in alarm;

+|  Then, with uncertain, half-delaying pace,

+|  She left Christine, returning in a space

+|  With Philip, Christine's brother, a young squire,

+|  Who strode by her with careless, swinging arm

+|  And eager face, with keen, blue eyes afire.

+|  Then all three stood, with whispering heads bent low,

+|  In eager converse clustered; till, at last,

+|  They parted, and, with high hopes beating fast,

+|  Christine unto her turret-room returned--

+|  Her dark eyes bright and all her face aglow,

+|  As if some new-lit rapture in her burned.

+|  About her little chamber swift she moved,

+|  Until, at length, in travelling array,

+|  She paused to rest, and all-impatient lay

+|  Upon her snow-white bed, and watched the light

+|  Fail from the lilied arras that she loved

+|  Because her hand had wrought each petal white

+|  And slender, emerald stem.  The falling night

+|  Was lit for her with many a memory

+|  Of little things she could no longer see,

+|  That had been with her in old, happy hours,

+|  Before her girlish joys had taken flight

+|  As morning dews from noon-unfolding flowers.

+|  For her, with laggard pace the minutes trailed,

+|  Till night seemed to eternity outdrawn.

+|  At last, an hour before the summer-dawn,

+|  She rose and once again, with noiseless tread,

+|  Crept down the stair, grey-cloaked and closely veiled,

+|  While every shadow struck her cold with dread

+|  Lest, drawing back the arras, Hild should stand

+|  With mocking smile before her; but, unstayed,

+|  She reached the stair-foot, and, no more afraid,

+|  She sought a low and shadow-hidden door,

+|  Slid back the silent bolts with eager hand,

+|  And stepped into the garden dim once more.

+|  She quickly crossed a dewy-plashing lawn,

+|  And, passing through a little wicket-gate,

+|  She reached the road.  Not long had she to wait

+|  Ere, with two bridled horses, Philip came.

+|  Silent they mounted; far they fared ere dawn

+|  Burnished the castle-weathercock to flame.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   V\.

+

+|  Northward they climbed from out the valley mist;

+|  Northward they crossed the sun-enchanted fells;

+|  Northward they plunged down deep, fern-hidden dells;

+|  And northward yet--until the sapphire noon

+|  Had burned and glowed to thunderous amethyst

+|  Of evening skies about an opal moon;

+|  Northward they followed fast the loud-tongued fame

+|  Of young Sir Geoffrey of the golden helm;

+|  Until it seemed that storm must overwhelm

+|  Their weary flight.  They sought a lodging-place,

+|  And soon upon a lonely cell they came

+|  Wherein a hermit laboured after grace.

+|  On beds of withered bracken, soft and warm,

+|  He housed them, and himself, all night, alone,

+|  Knelt in long vigil on the aching stone,

+|  Within his little chapel, though, all night,

+|  His prayers were drowned by thunders of the storm,

+|  And all about him flashed blue, pulsing light.

+|  Christine in calm, undreaming slumber lay,

+|  Nor stirred till, clear and glittering, the morn

+|  Sang through the forest; though, with roots uptorn,

+|  The mightiest-limbed and highest-soaring oak

+|  Had fallen charred, with green leaves shrivelled grey.

+|  At tinkling of the matin-bell she woke,

+|  And soon with Philip left the woodland boughs

+|  For barer uplands.  Over tawny bent

+|  And purpling heath they rode till day was spent;

+|  When, down within a broad, green-dusking dale,

+|  They sought the shelter of the holy house

+|  Of God's White Sisters of the Virgin's Veil.

+|  So, day by day, they ever northward pressed,

+|  Until they left the lands of peace behind,

+|  And rode among the border-hills, where blind

+|  Insatiate warfare ever rages fierce;

+|  Where night-winds ever fan a fiery crest,

+|  And dawn's light breaks on bright, embattled spears:

+|  A land whose barren hills are helmed with towers;

+|  A lone, grey land of battle-wasted shires;

+|  A land of blackened barns and empty byres;

+|  A land of rock-bound holds and robber-hordes,

+|  Of slumberous noons and wakeful midnight hours,

+|  Of ambushed dark and moonlight flashing swords.

+|  With hand on hilt and ever-kindling eyes,

+|  Flushed face and quivering nostril, Philip rode;

+|  But nought assailed them; every lone abode

+|  Forsaken seemed; all empty lay the land

+|  Beneath the empty sky; only the cries

+|  Of plovers pierced the blue on either hand;

+|  Until, at sudden cresting of a hill,

+|  The clang of battle sounded on their ears,

+|  And, far below, they saw a surge of spears

+|  Crash on unyielding ranks; while, from the sea

+|  Of striving steel, with deathly singing shrill,

+|  A spray of arrows flickered fitfully.

+|  Amazed they stood, wide-eyed, with holden breath;

+|  When, of a sudden, flashed upon their sight

+|  The golden helm in midmost of the fight,

+|  Where, with high-lifted head and undismayed,

+|  Sir Geoffrey rode, a very lord of death,

+|  With ever-leaping, ever-crashing blade.

+|  Christine watched long, now cold with quaking dread,

+|  Now hot with hope as each assailant fell;

+|  The bright sword held her gaze as by a spell;

+|  Because love blinded her to all but love,

+|  Unmoved she watched the foemen shudder dead,

+|  She whose heart erst the meanest woe could move.

+|  Then, dazed, she saw a solitary shaft,

+|  Unloosed with certain aim from out the bow,

+|  Strike clean through Geoffrey's hauberk, and bring low

+|  The golden helm, while o'er him swiftly met

+|  The tides of fight.  Christine a little laughed

+|  With rattling throat, and stood with still eyes set.

+|  Scarce Philip dared to raise his eyes to hers

+|  To see the terror there.  No word she spake,

+|  But leaned a little forward through the brake

+|  That bloomed about her in a golden blaze;

+|  Her hands were torn to bleeding by the furze,

+|  Yet nothing could disturb that dreadful gaze.

+|  Then, gradually, the heaving battle swerved

+|  To northward, faltering broken, and afar

+|  It closed again, where, round a jutting scar,

+|  The flashing torrent of the river curved.

+|  With eager step Christine ran down the hill,

+|  And sped across the late-forsaken field

+|  To where, with shattered sword and splintered shield,

+|  Among the mounded bodies Geoffrey lay.

+|  She loosed his helm, but deathly pale and still

+|  His young face gleamed within the light of day.

+|  Christine beside him knelt, as Philip sought

+|  A draught of water from the peat-born stream;

+|  When, in his eyes, at last, a fitful gleam

+|  Flickered, and bending low, with straining ears,

+|  The laboured breathing of her name she caught;

+|  And over his dead face fell fast her tears.

+|  Once more towards them the tide of battle swept;

+|  Christine moved not.  Young Philip on her cried,

+|  And strove, in vain, to draw her safe aside.

+|  A random shaft in her unshielded breast--

+|  Though hot to stay its course her brother leapt--

+|  Struck quivering, and she slowly sank to rest.

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center medium

+

+   VI\.

+

+|  Queen Hild sat weaving in her garden-close,

+|  When on her startled ear there fell the news

+|  Of Christine's flight before the darkling dews

+|  Had thrilled with dawn.  A strand of golden thread

+|  Slipped from her trembling fingers as she rose

+|  And hastened to the castle with drooped head.

+|  All morn she paced within her blinded room,

+|  Unresting, to and fro, her white hands clenched;

+|  All morn within her tearless eyes, unquenched,

+|  Blue fires of anger smouldered, yet no moan

+|  Escaped her lips.  Without, in summer bloom,

+|  The garden murmured with bliss-burdened drone

+|  Of hover-flies and lily-charmed bees;

+|  Sometimes a finch lit on the window-ledge,

+|  With shrilly pipe, or, from the rose-hung hedge,

+|  A blackbird fluted; yet she neither heard

+|  Nor heeded aught; until, by rich degrees,

+|  Drowsed into noon the noise of bee and bird.

+|  Yea, even when, without her chamber, stayed

+|  A doubtful step, and timid fingers knocked,

+|  She answered not, but, swiftly striding, locked

+|  Yet more secure, with angry-clicking key,

+|  The bolted door, and the affrighted maid

+|  Unto the waiting hall fled, fearfully.

+|  Wearied at last, upon her bed Queen Hild

+|  In fitful slumber sank; but evil dreams

+|  Of battle-stricken lands and blood-red streams

+|  Swirled through her brain.  Then, suddenly, she woke,

+|  Wide-eyed, and sat upright, with body chilled,

+|  Though in her throat the hot air seemed to choke.

+|  Swiftly she rose; then, binding her loosed hair,

+|  She bathed her throbbing brows, and, cold and calm,

+|  Downstairs she glided, while the evening-psalm

+|  In maiden-voices quavered, faint and sweet,

+|  And from the chapel-tower, through quivering air,

+|  The bell's clear silver-tinkling clove the heat.

+|  She strode into the hall where yet the King

+|  Sat with his knights; a weary minstrel stirred

+|  Cool, throbbing wood-notes, throated like a bird,

+|  From his soft-stringèd lute.  With scornful eyes

+|  Hild looked on them and spake: "Can nothing sting

+|  Your slumberous hearts from slothful peace to rise?

+|  Must only stripling-knights and maidens ride

+|  To battle, where, unceasing, foemen wage

+|  War on your marches, and your wardens rage

+|  In impotent despair with desperate swords,

+|  While you, O King, with sheathèd arms abide?"

+|  She paused, and, wondering, the King and lords

+|  Looked on her mutely; then, again, she spake:

+|  "Shall I, then, and my maidens sally forth

+|  With battle-brands to conquer the wild north?

+|  Yea, I will go!  Who follows after me?"

+|  As by a blow struck suddenly awake,

+|  The King leapt up, and, like a clamorous sea,

+|  The knights about him.  Scornfully the Queen

+|  Looked on them: "So my woman's words have roused

+|  The hands that slumbered and the hearts that drowsed.

+|  Make ready then for battle; ere seven days

+|  Have passed, the dawn must light your armour's sheen,

+|  And in the sun your pennoned lances blaze."

+|  Her voice ceased; and a pulsing flame of light

+|  Flashed through the hall; in crashing thunder broke

+|  The heavy, hanging heat; the rafters woke

+|  In echo as the rainy torrent poured;

+|  Bright gleamed the rapid lightning; yet more bright

+|  The war-lust kindled hot in every lord.

+|  To clang of armour the seventh morning stirred

+|  From slumber; restless hoof and champing bit

+|  Aroused the garth; and day, arising, lit

+|  A hundred lances, as, each bolt withdrawn,

+|  The courtyard-gate swung wide with noise far-heard,

+|  And flickering pennons rode into the dawn--

+|  Before his knights, the King, and at his side,

+|  Queen Hild, with ever-northward-gazing eyes;

+|  But, ere they far had fared, in mute surprise

+|  They stayed and all drew rein, as down the road

+|  They saw a little band of warriors ride--

+|  Sore travel-stained--who bore a heavy load

+|  Upon a branch-hung litter; while before

+|  Came Philip, bearing a war-broken lance.

+|  Though King and lords looked, wondering, in a glance

+|  Queen Hild had read the sorrow of his face

+|  And pierced the leaf-hid secret--which e'ermore

+|  A brand of fire upon her heart would trace.

+|  Darkness about her swirled, but, with a fierce

+|  Wild, conquering shudder, shaking herself free,

+|  Unto the light she clung, though like a sea

+|  It surged and eddied round her; yet so still

+|  She sat, none knew her steely eyes could pierce

+|  The leafy screen.  With guilty terror chill,

+|  She heard the king speak--sadly riding forth:

+|  "Whence come you, Philip, battle-stained and slow?

+|  What burden bear you with such brows of woe?"

+|  Then Philip answered, mournfully: "I bring

+|  Two wanderers home from out the perilous north.

+|  Prepare to gaze on death's defeat, O King."

+|  They lowered the litter slowly to the ground;

+|  Back fell the branches; in the light of day,

+|  In calm, white sleep Christine and Geoffrey lay,

+|  And at their feet the baleful Helm of Strife

+|  Sword-cloven.  Hushed stood all the knights around,

+|  When spake the King, alighting: "Come, O wife,

+|  And let us twain, with humble heads low-bowed,

+|  Even at the feet of love triumphant stand,

+|  A little while together, hand in hand."

+|  The Queen obeyed; but, fearfully, she shrank

+|  Before the eyes of death, and, quaking, cowed,

+|  With moaning cry, low in the dust she sank.

+

+.. vspace:: 3

+

+.. class:: center small white-space-pre-line

+

+   PRINTED BY R. FOLKARD AND SON,

+   23, DEVONSHIRE STREET, QUEEN SQUARE, BLOOMSBURY.

+

+.. vspace:: 6

+

+.. pgfooter::

diff --git a/42052-rst/images/img-cover.jpg b/42052-rst/images/img-cover.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bae7e9a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/42052-rst/images/img-cover.jpg
diff --git a/42052.txt b/42052.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e5c6cfb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/42052.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,2925 @@
+                            THE GOLDEN HELM
+
+
+
+
+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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+
+Title: The Golden Helm
+       and Other Verse
+Author: Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
+Release Date: February 08, 2013 [EBook #42052]
+Language: English
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN HELM ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Cover]
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                              GOLDEN HELM
+                            AND OTHER VERSE
+
+
+                                   BY
+                         WILFRID WILSON GIBSON
+
+
+
+                                 LONDON
+                       ELKIN MATHEWS, VIGO STREET
+                                  1903
+
+
+
+
+                                   TO
+                              HOWARD PEASE
+
+
+
+
+                          _BY THE SAME WRITER_
+
+                   _URLYN THE HARPER AND OTHER SONG_
+                   _THE QUEEN'S VIGIL AND OTHER SONG_
+
+
+
+
+Thanks are due to Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co., for permission to reprint
+"The King's Death," "The Three Kings," and the first part of "Averlaine
+and Arkeld," from _The Cornhill Magazine_; to the editor of _Macmillan's
+Magazine_ for leave to reprint "In the Valley"; to the editor of _The
+Saturday Review_ for leave to reprint "Notre Dame de la Belle-Verriere";
+and to the editors of _The Pilot, The Outlook, The Pall Mall Gazette,
+Country Life, The Week's Survey_, and _The Broadsheet_, for like
+courtesy with regard to a number of "The Songs of Queen Averlaine."
+
+
+
+
+                                Contents
+
+The Torch
+The Unknown Knight
+The King's Death
+The Knight of the Wood
+Notre Dame de la Belle-Verriere
+In the Valley
+The Vision: a Christmas Mystery
+The Three Kings
+The Songs of Queen Averlaine
+The Golden Helm
+
+
+
+
+                               The Torch
+
+
+Through skies blown clear by storm, o'er storm-spent seas,
+Day kindled pale with promise of full noon
+Of blue unclouded; no night-weary wind
+Ruffled the slumberous, heaving deeps to white,
+Though round the Farne Isles the waves never sink
+In foamless sleep--about the pillared crags
+For ever circling with unresting spray.
+At dawn's first glimmer, from his island-cell--
+Rock-hewn, secure from tempest--Oswald came
+With slow and weary step, white-faced and worn
+With night-long vigil for storm-perilled souls.
+His anxious eye with sharp foreboding bright--
+He scanned the treacherous flood; the long froth-trail
+That marks the lurking reefs; the jag-toothed chasms
+Which, foaming, gape at night beneath the keel--
+The mouth of hell to storm-bewildered ships:
+But no scar-stranded vessel met his glance.
+Relieved, he drank the glistering calm of morn,
+With nostril keen and warm lips parted wide;
+While, gradually, the sun-enkindled air
+Quickened his pallid cheek with youthful flame,
+Though lonely years had silvered his dark head,
+And round his eyes had woven shadow-meshes.
+Clearly he caught the ever-clamorous cries
+Of guillemot and puffin from afar,
+Where, canopied by hovering, white wings,
+They crowded naked pinnacles of rock.
+He watched, with eyes of glistening tenderness,
+The brooding eider--Cuthbert's sacred bird,
+That bears among the isles his saintly name--
+Breast the calm waves; a black, wet-gleaming fin
+Cleft the blue waters with a foaming jag,
+Where, close behind the restless herring-herd,
+With ravening maw of death, the porpoise sped.
+Oswald, light-tranced, dreamed in the sun awhile;
+Till, suddenly, as some old sorrow starts,
+Though years have glided by with soothing lull,
+The gust of ancient longing rent his bliss:
+His narrow isle, as by some darkling spell,
+More narrow shrank; the gulls' unceasing cries
+Grew still more fretful; and his hermit-life
+A sea-scourged desolation to him seemed.
+The holy tree of peace--which he had dreamt
+Would flourish in the wilderness afresh,
+Upspringing ever in new ecstasy
+Of branching beauty and white blooms of truth,
+Till its star-tangling crest should cleave the sky,
+And angels rustle through its topmost boughs--
+Seemed sapless, rootless.  Through his quivering limbs
+His famine-wasted youth to life upleapt
+With passionate yearning for humanity:
+The stir of towns; the jostling of glad throngs;
+Welcoming faces and warm-clasping hands;
+Yea, even for the lips and eyes of Love
+He hungered with keen pangs of old desire:
+And, if for him these might not be, he craved
+At least the exultation of swift peril--
+The red-foamed riot of delirious strife
+That rears a bloody crest o'er peaceful shires,
+And, slaying, in a swirl of slaughter dies.
+With brow uplifted and strained, pulsing throat,
+And salt-parched lips out-thrust, unto the sun
+He stretched beseeching hands, as though he sought
+To snatch some glittering disaster thence.
+One moment radiant thus; and then once more
+His arms dropped listless, and he slowly shrank
+Within his sea-stained habit, cowering dark
+Amid the azure blaze of sea and sky.
+Then, stirring, with impatient step he moved
+Across the isle to where the rocky shore,
+Forming a little, crag-encircled bay,
+Sloped steeply to the level of the sea;
+But, as he neared the edges of the tide,
+Startled, he paused, as, marvelling, he saw
+A woman on the shelving, wet, black rock,
+Lying, forlorn, among the storm-wrack, white
+And motionless; still wet, her raiment clung
+About her limbs, and with her wet, gold hair
+Green sea-weed tangled.  Oswald on her looked
+Amazed, as one who, in a sea-born trance,
+Discovers the lone spirit of the storm,
+Self-spent at last, and sunk in dreamless slumber
+Within some caverned gloom.  Coldly he watched
+The little waves creep up the glistening rock,
+And, faltering, slide once more into the deep,
+As though they feared to waken her: at length,
+When one, more venturous, about her stole,
+And moved her heavy hair as if with life,
+He shuddered; and a lightning-knowledge struck
+His heart with fear; and in a flash he knew
+That no sea-phantom couched before him lay,
+But some frail fellow-creature, tempest-tost,
+Hung yet in peril on the edge of death,
+Her weak life slipping from the saving grasp
+While he delayed.  He sprang through plashy weed,
+O'er slippery ridges, to the rock whereon
+She lay with upturned face and close-shut eyes--
+One hand across her breast, the other dipped
+Within a shallow pool of emerald water,
+With blue-veined fingers clutching the red fronds
+Of frail sea-weed.  Then Oswald, bending, felt
+Upon his cheek the feeble breath that still
+Fluttered between the pallid, parted lips.
+In trembling haste, he loosed the sodden cords
+That bound her to a spar; and with hot hands
+He chafed her icy limbs, until the glow
+Of life returned.  With fitful quivering
+The white lids opened; and she looked on him
+With dull, unwondering eyes whose deep-sea blue
+The gloom of death's late passing shadowed yet;
+When suddenly light thrilled them, and bright fear
+Flashed from their depths, and, with a little gasp,
+She strove to rise; but Oswald with quick words
+Calmed her weak terror, and she sank once more,
+Closing her eyes; and, gently lifting her
+Within his arms--her gold hair hanging straight
+And heavy with sea-water, as he plunged
+Knee-deep through pools of crackling bladder-weed--
+He bore her, unresisting, o'er the isle
+Unto the rock-built shelter he had reared,
+Some little way apart from his own cell,
+For storm-stayed fishers or wrecked mariners.
+He laid her on a bed of withered bents,
+And ministered to her with gentle hands
+And ceaseless care; till, wrapped in warm, deep sleep,
+She sank oblivious.  Silently he placed
+His island-fare beside her on the board,
+Lest she should wake in need; then, with hushed step,
+He turned to go; but, ere he reached the door,
+He paused, and looked again towards the bed,
+As though he feared his strange sea-guest might flee
+Like some wild spirit, born of wondering foam,
+That wins from man the shelter of his breast,
+Then, on a night of moon-enchanted tides,
+Leaps with shrill laughter to its native seas,
+Bearing his soul within its glistening arms,
+To drown his peace on earth and hope of heaven
+In cold eternities of lightless deeps.
+But still in dreamless sleep the stranger lay,
+With parted lips and breathing soft and calm;
+About her head unloosed, her hair outshone,
+Among the grey-green bents, like fine, red gold.
+So beautiful she was that Oswald, pierced
+With quivering rapture, dared no longer bide,
+But, with quick fingers, softly raised the latch,
+And stumbled o'er the threshold.  As he went,
+A flock of sea-gulls from the bent-thatched roof
+Rose, querulous, and round him, wheeling, swept,
+With creaking wings and cold, black eyes agleam;
+Yet Oswald saw them not, nor heard their cries;
+Nor saw he, as he paced the eastern crags,
+How, round the Farnes, the dreaming ocean lay
+In broad, unshadowed, sapphire ecstasy,
+That glowed to noon through slow, uncounted hours.
+His early gloom had vanished; time and space
+And earth and sea no longer compassed him;
+One thought alone consumed him--beauty slept
+Within the shelter of his hermitage,
+Upon grey, rustling bents, with golden hair.
+He roamed, unresting, till the copper sun
+Sank in a steel-grey sea, and earth and sky
+Were strewn with shadows--wavering and dim--
+To weave a pathway for the dawning moon,
+That she, from night's oblivion, might create
+With the cold spell of her enchantments old
+A phantom earth with magical, bright seas,
+A vaster heaven of unrevealed stars.
+Unmoving, on a headland of swart crag
+That jutted gaunt and sharp against the night,
+Stood Oswald, cowled and silent.  Hour by hour
+He gazed across the sea, which nothing shadowed,
+Save where--now dim, now white--a lonely sail
+Hung, restless, o'er a fisher's barren toil.
+Yet Oswald saw nor sail nor moon nor sea:
+His heart kept vigil by the little house
+Wherein the stranger slumbered; and it seemed
+His life, by some strange power within him stayed,
+Awaited the unlatching of the door.
+
+But now, within the hut, the sleeper dreamt
+Of foaming caverns and o'erwhelming waters;
+Then, shuddering awake, awhile she lay,
+And watched the moonlight, cold and white, which poured
+Through the warm dusk, from the high window-slit;
+When, all at once, the strangeness of the room
+Closed in upon her with bewildering dread.
+She stirred; the bents, beneath her, rustled strange;
+She started in affright, and, swaying, stood
+Within the streaming moonlight, till, at last,
+In memory, once more disaster swept
+Over her life, and left her, desolate,
+Upon bleak crags of alien seas unknown.
+Yet, through the tumult of tempestuous dark,
+Above the echo of despairing cries,
+A calm voice sounded; and beyond the whirl
+Of foaming death, wherein she caught the gleam
+Of well-loved faces drowning in cold seas,
+A living face shone out--a beacon clear:
+Then numbing fear fell from her, and she moved,
+Unlatched the door, and stole into the night.
+One moment, dazzled by the full-moon glare,
+She paused, a shivering form within the wide
+And glittering desolation--lone and frail.
+But Oswald, watchful on the eastern scars,
+Seeing her, forward came with eager pace
+To meet her; and, as he drew swiftly near,
+His cowl fell backward; and she knew again
+The face that calmed the terrors of her dreams.
+Yet, with the knowledge, through her being stole,
+Vague fear more strange, more impotent than the blind
+Unquestioning dread when death had round her stormed;
+No peril of the body could arouse
+Such ecstasy of terror in her soul,
+Which seemed upborne upon the shivering crest
+Of some great wave, just curving, ere it crash
+Upon the crags of time.  Yet, though she feared
+When Oswald paused, uncertain, quick she spake,
+As though she sought to parry doom with words.
+She questioned him--scarce heeding his replies--
+How she had hither come; when, suddenly,
+Sped by her fluttering words, the last, dim cloud
+Rolled from her memory, and she saw revealed
+Within a pitiless glare of naked light
+The utmost horror of her desolation.
+Mute with despair, she stood with parted lips,
+And then cried fiercely: "Hath the sea upcast
+None other on this shore?  Am I, alone,
+Of all my kin who sailed in that doomed ship,
+Flung back to life?"  And as, with piteous glance,
+He answered her: "Ah God, that I, with them,
+Had died!  O traitor cords that held too sure
+My body to the broken spar of life!
+O feeble seas, that fumed in such wild wrath,
+Yet could not quench so frail a thing as I!"
+With passionate step, across the isle she ran,
+And leapt from crag to crag, until she stood
+Upon a dizzy scar that jutted sheer
+Above low-lapping waves.  Then once again
+Her moaning cry was heard among the Isles:
+"O bitter waters, give them back to me!
+You shall not keep them; all your waves of woe
+Cannot withhold from me those dauntless lives
+That were my life.  Surely they cannot rest
+Without me; even from your unfathomed graves
+Surely my love will draw them to my arms!"
+As though in tremulous expectation tranced,
+She yearned, with arms outstretched; as dawn arose
+Exultant from the sea, and with clear rays
+Kindled her wind-tost hair to streaming flame.
+
+Awhile she stood, then, moaning, slowly sank
+Upon the crag; and Oswald came to her
+With words of comfort which unloosed her pent
+And aching woe in swift, tumultuous tears.
+Oswald, in silent anguish, drew apart,
+Gazing, unseeing, o'er the dawning waves;
+Until at last the tempest of her grief,
+In low and fitful sobbing, spent itself;
+When, turning to him, once again she spake,
+And, shuddering, with faltering voice, outpoured
+The tale of her despair: and Oswald heard
+How she, who sat thus strangely by his side,
+Marna, a sea-earl's daughter, had besought
+Her father, when the old sea-hunger lit
+His eyes--as waves shot through with stormy fight--
+For leave to bear him company but once,
+When, with his sons, he rode the adventurous seas;
+How he had yielded with reluctant love;
+And how, from out the firth of some far strand,
+Their galley rode, beneath a flaming dawn;
+How her young heart had leapt to see the sails
+Unfurled to take the wind, as, one by one,
+Toil-glistening rowers shipped the dripping oars,
+And loosened every sheet before the breeze;
+How, as the ship with timbers all astrain,
+Leapt to mid-sea, through Marna's body thrilled
+A kindred rapture, and there came to her
+The sheer, delirious joy of them true-born
+To wander with the foam--each creaking cord
+That tugged the quivering mast unto her singing
+Of unknown shores and far, enchanted lands,
+Beyond the blue horizon; how, all day,
+They rode, undaunted, through the spinning surf;
+But, as the sun dipped, in the cold, grey tide,
+The wind, that since the dawn with steady speed
+Had filled the sails, now came in fitful gusts,
+Fierce and yet fiercer, till the sullen waves
+Were lashed to anger, and the waters leapt
+To tussle with the furies of the air;
+And how the ship, in the encounter caught,
+Was tossed on crests of swirling dark, or dropped
+Between o'er-toppling walls of whelming night;
+How in those hours--too dread for thought or speech--
+Her father's hand had bound her to a spar;
+And, even as--the cord between his teeth--
+He tugged the last knot sure, the vessel crashed
+Upon a cleaving scar; and she but saw
+The strong, pale faces looking upon death,
+Before the fierce, exultant waters closed
+With cold oblivion o'er them; and no more
+She knew, until she waked within the hut,
+To find her world, in one disastrous night,
+In one swift surge of roaring darkness, swept
+From her young feet; her kindred, home and friends,
+And all familiar hopes and joys and fears
+Dropt like a garment from her life, which now
+Stood naked on the edge of some new world
+Of unknown terrors.
+    Oswald heard her tale
+With pitying glance; yet in his eyes arose
+A strange, new light, which as each gust of grief
+Shook out the fluttering words, more brightly burned;
+So that, when Marna ceased, it seemed to her
+That he, in holy contemplation rapt,
+Had heeded not her woe; and from her heart
+Burst out a cry: "Ah God, I am alone!"
+But, stung by her shrill anguish, Oswald waked
+From his bright reverie, and his shining eyes
+Darkened with swift compassion, as he turned
+And, trembling, spake: "Nay, not alone..."
+  Then mute
+He stood--his pale lips clenched--as though within
+There surged a torrent which he dared not loose.
+Marna looked wondering up; but, when her eyes
+Saw the white passion of his face, her soul
+Was tossed once more on crests of unknown fears;
+Yet rapture warred with terror in her heart;
+She trembled, and her breath came short and quick.
+She dared not raise her eyes again to his,
+Till, on her straining ears, his words, once more,
+Fell, slow and cold and clear as water dripping
+Between locked sluice-gates: "Nothing need you fear.
+Beyond the sea of unknown terrors lie
+White havens of an undiscovered peace.
+For even this bleak, scar-embattled coast
+May yield safe harbour to the storm-spent soul.
+Your world has fallen from you that you may
+Enter another world, more beautiful,
+Built 'neath the shadow of the throne of God.
+There shall you find new friends, who yet will seem
+Familiar to your eyes, because their souls
+Have passed through kindred perils and despairs."
+He ceased; and silence, trembling, 'twixt them hung;
+Till Marna, gazing yet across the sea,
+Rent it with words: "Where may I find this peace?"
+And Oswald answered: "In an inland dale
+The Sisters of the Cross await your coming,
+With ever-open gate.  Within seven days,
+My brethren from the mainland will put out,
+Bringing me food; on their return with them
+You may embark.  Till then, this barren rock
+Must be your home."  Exultant light once more
+Leapt, flashing, in the depths of his dark eyes.
+Yet Marna looked not up, but, slowly, spake:
+"Yea, I must go....  But you...."
+  Then in dismay
+She stopped, as though the thought had slipped unknown
+From her full heart; but Oswald caught the words,
+And spake with hard, quick speech, as if to baffle
+Some doubt that strove within him: "On this Isle
+I bide, till God shall kindle my weak soul
+To burn, a beacon o'er His lonely seas."
+Once more he paused; and perilous silence swayed
+Between them, until Oswald, quaking, rose,
+As one who dared no longer rest beneath
+O'er-toppling doom.  Yet, with calm voice, he spake:
+"Even within this wilderness abides
+Such beauty that, in your brief sojourn here,
+Your soul shall starve not; all about you sweeps
+The ever-changing wonder of the sea;
+But if, too full of bitter memories,
+The bright waves darken, you may lift your eyes
+To watch the swooping gull; the flashing tern;
+The stately cormorant and the kittiwake--
+Most beautiful of all the island-birds;
+Or, if your woman's heart should crave some grace
+More exquisite, see, frail bell-campions blow,
+As foam-flowers on the shallow, sandy turf."
+As thus he spake, a light in Marna's eyes
+Arose, and sorrow left her for awhile:
+And she with bright glance questioned him, and watched
+The hovering gulls, and plucked the snowy blooms,
+With little cries at each discovered beauty.
+Yet Oswald by her side walked silently,
+And watched, as one struck mute with anguished fear,
+Her eager eyes, and heard her chattering words.
+Then, suddenly, he left her, but returned
+Within the hour, with faltering step, and spake
+With tremulous voice: "We two must part awhile;
+For I must keep lone vigil in my cell
+Six days and nights, with fasting and with prayer;
+Meanwhile, within the little hut for you
+Are food and shelter till the brethren come.
+When I must give you over to their care."
+Marna, with wondering heart, looked up at him;
+But such a wild light flickered in his eyes
+She dared not speak; and, shuddering, he turned,
+And strode back swiftly to the hermitage.
+
+Marna looked after him with yearning gaze,
+As though her heart would have her call him back,
+Yet her lips moved not; motionless, she watched
+Until he passed from sight; then, sinking low
+Among the flowers, she wept, she knew not why.
+
+And, as the door closed on him, Oswald fell
+Prone on the cold, black, vigil-furrowed rock
+That paved his narrow cell; and long he lay
+As in the clutch of some dread waking-trance,
+Nor stirred until the shadows into night
+Were woven.  Then unto his feet he leapt
+With this wild cry: "O God, why hast Thou sent
+This scourge most bitter for my naked soul?
+I feared not storm nor solitude, O God;
+I shrank not from the tempest of Thy wrath;
+Though oft my weak soul wavered, trampled o'er
+By deedless hours, and yearned unto the world,
+Ever afresh Thy love hath bound me fast
+Unto this island of Thy lonely seas;
+And I, who deemed that I at last might reach--
+I who had come through all--Thy golden haven,
+Knew not Thy hand withheld this last despair,
+This scourge most bitter, being most beautiful."
+Then on his knees he sank, and tried to pray
+Before the Virgin's shrine, where ever burned
+His votive taper with unfailing light.
+But when his lips would breathe the holy name,
+His heart cried: "Marna!  Marna!"  Every pulse
+Throbbed "Marna!"  And his body shook and swayed,
+As though it strove to utter that one word,
+And cry it once unto eternal stars,
+Though it should perish crying.  Through the cell
+The silence murmured: "Marna!"  And without
+A lone gull wailed it to the windy night.
+He lifted his wild eyes, and in the shrine
+He saw the face of Marna, which outburned
+The flickering taper; on the gloom up-surged,
+Foam-white, the face of Marna; till the dark
+Flowed pitiful o'er him, and on the stone
+He sank unconscious.  Night went slowly by,
+And pale dawn stole in silence through his cell;
+And, in the light of morn, the taper died,
+With feeble guttering; yet he never stirred,
+Though noonday waxed and waned.
+  But Marna roamed
+All night beneath the stars.  To her it seemed
+That not until the closing of the door
+Had all hope perished: now death tore, afresh,
+Her father and her brothers from her arms.
+By day and night and under sun and moon
+She roamed unresting--seeing, heeding naught--
+Till weariness o'ercame her, and she slept;
+And, as she slumbered, snowy-plumed peace
+Nestled within her heart; and, when she waked,
+She only yearned for that dim, cloistral calm,
+Embosomed deep in some bough-sheltered vale,
+Whither the boat must bear her.
+    In his cell,
+As night paled slowly to the seventh morn,
+Oswald arose--the fire within his eyes
+Yet more intense, more fierce.  With eager hand
+He clutched the latch, and, flinging wide the door,
+He strode into the dawn.  One moment, dazed,
+As though bewildered by the light, he paused;
+But, when his glance in restless roving fell
+On Marna, standing on the western crag
+Against the setting moon, beneath the dawn,
+His passion surged upon him, and he shook;
+Then, springing madly forth, he, stumbling, ran,
+And, falling at her feet upon the rock,
+His voice rang out in fearful exultation:
+"You shall not go!  I cannot let you go!
+Has not the tumult tossed you to my breast?
+Yea, and not all the storms of all the seas
+Shall drag you from me!  Nay, you shall not go!
+For we will live together on this isle
+Which time has builded in the deeps for us--
+We two together, one in ecstasy,
+Throughout eternity; for time shall fall
+From off us; and the world shall be no more:
+And God, if God should stand between us now..."
+Faltering, he paused; and Marna stood, afraid,
+Quaking before him; but she spake no word.
+Across the waters came the plash of oars;
+But Oswald heard them not, and once more cried:
+"You will not go--thrusting me back to death?
+For now I know the strange, new thing you brought
+For me from out the storm was life--yea, life;
+And I am one arisen from the grave.
+You will not thrust me back and take again
+That which you came through storm to bring to me?
+You will not go?  I cannot let you go!"
+
+He ceased; and now the even plash of oars
+Came clearer.  One dread moment Marna stood
+Swaying; then, stretching forth her arms, she cried:
+"Ah God!  Ah God!  Why hath Thy cold hand set
+This doom upon me?  Must I ever bear
+Death and disaster unto whom I love?
+Oh, is it not enough that, 'neath the wave,
+Because I sought to bear them company,
+My father and my brothers lie in death?
+But this--ah God--that it should come to this!
+Must I bear ever death within my hands?"
+
+She paused one moment, with wild-heaving breast;
+Then, turning unto Oswald, spake again,
+With softer voice: "But you--have you no pity?
+You who are but God's servant--surely you
+Have pity on my weakness.  From this doom
+Which overhangs me you must set me free.
+You say I brought you life; but in me lies
+For you--the priest of God--a death more deep
+Than all the drowning fathoms of the sea.
+I go, that you may live.  If life indeed
+I brought you, I was but the torch of God
+To kindle the clear flame of your strong soul
+To burn, a beacon o'er His lonely seas."
+She ceased, with arms outstretched and lighted eyes.
+As on some holy vision Oswald gazed
+In rapt, adoring fear; nor spake, nor stirred.
+Near, and yet nearer, drew the plash of oars;
+And, turning in the boat, the brethren looked
+With wondering eyes upon them, whispering: "Lo,
+Some seraph-messenger of God most high
+Tarries with Oswald.  See the strange new peace
+That burns his face like a white altar-flame.
+Not yet must we draw near, lest our weak sight
+Be blinded by that glory of gold hair
+That gleams so strangely in the light of dawn."
+
+
+
+
+                           The Unknown Knight
+
+
+When purple gloomed the wintry ridge
+  Against the sunset's windy flame,
+From pine-browed hills, along the bridge,
+  An unknown rider came.
+
+I watched him idly from the tower.
+  Though he nor looked nor raised his head;
+I felt my life before him cower
+  In dumb, foreboding dread.
+
+I saw him to the portal win
+  Unchallenged, and no lackey stirred
+To take his bridle when within
+  He strode without a word.
+
+Through all the house he passed unstayed,
+  Until he reached my father's door;
+The hinge shrieked out like one afraid;
+  Then silence fell once more.
+
+All night I hear the chafing ice
+  Float, griding, down the swollen stream;
+I lie fast-held in terror's vice,
+  Nor dare to think or dream.
+
+I only know the unknown knight
+  Keeps vigil by my father's bed:
+Oh, who shall wake to see the light
+  Flame all the east with red?
+
+
+
+
+                            The King's Death
+
+
+_The sleeping-chamber of the King: a candle burns dimly by the curtained
+bed.  The arras parts, and two slaves enter with daggers.  A storm of
+wind rages without._
+
+FIRST SLAVE: He sleeps.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: He sleeps, whom only death shall rouse
+To dread unsleeping in another world.
+
+FIRST SLAVE: How long the careful night has kept him wakeful,
+As if sleep loathed to snare him for our knives!
+
+SECOND SLAVE: Yea, we have crouched so close in quaking dark
+I scarce can lift my sword-arm: strike you first.
+
+FIRST SLAVE: The heavy waiting hours have crushed my strength;
+The hate that burst to such an eager flame
+Within my heart has smouldered to dull ash,
+Which pity breathes to scatter.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: Knows he pity?
+
+FIRST SLAVE: Nay, he is throned above his slaughtered kin,
+A reeking sword his sceptre.  He has broken,
+As one across the knee a faggot snaps,
+Strong lives to feed the blaze of his ambition;
+Yet shall a slave's hand strike cold death in him
+For whom kings sweat like slaves?
+
+SECOND SLAVE: Yea, at the stroke
+One slave lies dead--a hundred kings are born;
+For every man that breathes will be a king;
+Vast empires, beaten-dust beneath his feet,
+Will rise again and teem with kingly men,
+When he, their death, is dead
+
+FIRST SLAVE: How still he sleeps!
+The tempest shrieks to wake him, yet he slumbers.
+As seas that foam against unyielding scars,
+The mad wind storms the castle, wall and tower,
+And is not spent.  Hark, it has found a breach--
+Some latch unloosed--the house is full of wind;
+It rushes, wailing, down the corridor;
+It seeks the King; it cries on him to waken;
+Now 'tis without, and shakes the rattling bolt;
+Lo, it has broken in, in little gusts,
+I feel it in my hair; 'twill lay cold fingers
+Upon his lips, and start him from his sleep.
+See, it has whipt the yellow flame to smoke.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: And now it fails; the heavy, hanging gold
+That shelters him from night is all unstirred.
+
+FIRST SLAVE: Even the wind must pause.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: 'Twas but a breeze
+To blow our sinking courage to clear fire.
+Too long we loiter; soon the approaching day
+Will take us, slaves who grasp the arms of men
+Yet dare not plunge them save in our own breasts.
+Come, let us strike!
+
+(_They approach the bed and draw aside the curtain._)
+
+FIRST SLAVE: The King--how still he sleeps!
+Can majesty in such calm slumber lie?
+
+SECOND SLAVE: Come, falter not, strike home!
+
+FIRST SLAVE: Hold, hold your hand,
+For death has stolen a march upon our hate;
+He does not breathe.
+
+SECOND SLAVE: The stars have wrought for us,
+And we are conquerors with unbloodied hands.
+
+FIRST SLAVE: Nay, nay, for in our thoughts his life was spilt;
+While yet our bodies lagged in fettered fear,
+Our shafted breath sped on and stabbed his sleep.
+Oh, red for all the world, across our brows,
+Our murderous thoughts have burned the brand of Cain.
+See, through the window stares the pitiless day!
+
+
+
+
+                         The Knight of the Wood
+
+
+"I fear the Knight of the Wood," she said
+"For him may no man overthrow.
+Where boughs are matted thick o'erhead,
+There gleams, amid the shadows dread,
+The terror of his armour red;
+And all men fear him, high and low;
+Yet all must through the forest go."
+
+She paused awhile where larches flame
+About the borders of the wood;
+Then, crying loud on Love's high name
+To keep her maiden-heart from shame,
+She entered, and full-swiftly came
+Where, hooded with a scarlet hood,
+A rider in her pathway stood.
+
+She saw the gleam of armour red;
+She saw the fiery pennon wave
+Its flaming terror overhead
+'Mid writhing boughs and shadows dread.
+"Ah God," she cried: "that I were dead,
+And laid for ever in my grave!"
+Then, swooning, called on Love to save.
+
+Among the springing fern she fell,
+And very nigh to death she lay;
+Till, like the fading of a spell
+At ringing of the matin-bell,
+The darkness left her; by a well
+She waked beneath the open day,
+And rose to go upon her way;
+
+When, once again, the ruddy light
+Of arms she saw, and turned to flee;
+But clutching brambles stayed her flight;
+While, marvelling, she saw the Knight
+Unhooded; and his eyes were bright
+With April colours of the sea;
+And crowned as a King was he.
+
+She knelt before him in the ferns,
+And sang: "O Lord of Love, I bow
+Before thy shield, where blazoned burns
+The flaming heart with light that turns
+The night to day.  O heart that yearns
+For love, lo, Love before thee now--
+The wild-wood knight with crowned brow!"
+
+
+
+
+                    Notre Dame de la Belle-Verriere
+
+
+Above Thy halo's burning blue
+For ever hovers the White Dove;
+Thy heart enshrines, for ever new,
+The Cross--the Crown of all Thy love;
+While, sapphire wing on sapphire wing,
+About Thee choiring angels swing
+Gold censers, and bright candles bear.
+Because I have no heart to sing,
+I come to Thee with all my care,
+_Notre Dame de la Belle-Verriere._
+
+Because the sword hath pierced Thy side,
+Thy brows are crowned with circling gold.
+The woe of all the world doth hide
+Within Thy mantle's azure fold.
+Because Thou, too, hast dwelt with fears,
+Through lingering days and endless years,
+I find no comfort otherwhere,
+Our Lady beautiful with tears,
+Our Lady sorrowfully fair,
+_Notre Dame de la Belle-Verriere._
+
+My feet have travelled the hot road
+Between the poppies' barren fires;
+But now I cast aside the load
+Of burning hopes and wild desires
+That ever fierce and fiercer grew.
+Thy peace falls like a falling dew
+Upon me as I kneel in prayer,
+Because Thou hast known sorrow, too,
+Because Thou, too, hast known despair,
+_Notre Dame de la Belle-Verriere._
+
+
+
+
+                             In the Valley
+
+
+Love, take my hand, and look not with sad eyes
+Through the valley-shades: for us, the mountains rise;
+Beneath the cold, blue-cleaving peaks of snow
+Like flame the April-blossomed almonds blow--
+Spring-grace and winter-glory intertwined
+Within the glittering web that colour weaves.
+
+_Yet who are they who troop so close behind_
+_With raiment rustling like frost-withered leaves_
+_That burden winter-winds with ever-restless sighs?_
+
+Love, look not back, nor ever hearken more
+To murmuring shades; for us, the river-shore
+Is lit with dew-hung daffodils that gleam
+On either side the tawny, foaming stream
+That bears through April with triumphal song
+Dissolving winter to the brimming sea.
+
+_Yet who are they who, ever-whispering, throng,_
+_With lean, grey lips that shudder piteously,_
+_As if from some bright fruit of bitter-tasting core?_
+
+Nay, look not back, for, lo, in tranced light
+Love stays awhile his world-encircling flight
+To wait our coming from the valley-ways;
+See where, a hovering fire amid the blaze,
+He pants aflame with irised plumes unfurled
+Above the utmost pinnacle of noon.
+
+_Yet who are they who wander through the world_
+_Like weary clouds about a wintry moon,_
+_With wan, bewildered brows that bear eternal night?_
+
+Love, look not back, nor fill thy heart with woe
+Of old, sad loves that perished long ago;
+For ever after living lovers tread
+Pale, yearning ghosts of all earth's lovers dead.
+A little while with life we lead the train
+Ere we, too, follow, cold, some breathing love.
+
+_I fear their fevered eyes and hands that strain_
+_To snatch our joy that flutters bright above,_
+_To shadow with grey death its ruddy, pulsing glow._
+
+Love, look not back in this life-crowning hour
+When all our love breaks into perfect flower
+Beneath the kindling heights of frozen time.
+Come, Love, that we with happy haste may climb
+Beyond the valley, and may chance to see
+Some unknown peak that cleaves unfading skies.
+
+_Old sorrow saps my strength; I may not flee_
+_The flame of passionate hunger in their eyes;_
+_Beseeching shade on shade--they hold me in their power._
+
+Love, look not back, for, all too brief, our day,
+In wilder glories flameth fast away.
+Lo, even now, the northern snow-ridge glows--
+With purple shadowed--from pale gold to rose
+That shivers white beneath stars dawning cold.
+Lift up thine eyes ere all the colour fades.
+
+_Ah, rainbow-plumed Love in airs of gold,_
+_Too late I turn, a shade among the shades._
+_To follow, death-enthralled, thy flight through ages grey._
+
+
+
+
+                              The Vision.
+
+
+                          A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY.
+
+PERSONS: A YOUNG HERD.  HIS MOTHER.
+SCENE: THE QUEEN'S CRAGS.
+TIME: CHRISTMAS EVE.
+
+_The herd stands at the foot of the Crags, gazing across the dark fells.
+His mother enters._
+
+MOTHER: Son, come home, nor tarry here
+In this peril-haunted place.
+My old heart is filled with fear
+By the white flame of thy face,
+And thine eyes whose restless fire
+Burneth ever wild and clear
+As red peats between the bars.
+Son, come home; the night is cold;
+Dropping from the wintry stars,
+Tingling frost falls through the air;
+See, the bents are white with rime;
+All the sheep are in the fold;
+All the cattle in the byre;
+Only we, of live things, roam
+O'er the fells so far from home;
+E'en the red fox in his lair
+Snuggles close to keep him warm;
+And the lonely, wandering hare
+Crouches, shivering, in her form;
+While by Greenlea's frozen edge
+Hides the mallard in the sedge.
+Son, come home; the ingle-seat
+Waits thee by the glowing peat,
+And the door is off the latch.
+Come, and we will feast and sing,
+As of old at Christmas time,
+Until thou wilt drowse and nod
+And with slumber-drooping head
+Gladly seek thy bracken-bed
+Underneath the heather-thatch;
+Where the healing sleep will bring
+Unto thee the peace of God.
+Son, come home!  Whom seekest thou there?
+
+HERD: Guenevere!  O Guenevere!
+
+MOTHER: Cry no more on Guenevere.
+Some wild warlock of the fells,
+Born beneath the Devil's Scars,
+Lures thee forth to drown thy soul
+Deep in Broomlea-water cold.
+Guenevere no longer dwells
+Anywhere beneath the stars;
+Though she walked these Crags of old,
+Many hundred years ago,
+Into earth she sank like snow;
+As a sunset-cloud in rain
+Breaks, and showers the thirsty plain,
+All the glory of her hair
+Fell to earth, we know not where.
+Leave thy foolish quest forlorn.
+Lo, to-night a King is born,
+Who, when earthly kings at last
+Into wildering night are passed,
+Yet shall wear the crown of morn.
+
+Mary, Thou whose love may turn
+Eyes that after evil burn,
+Draw his soul, that strays so far,
+To Thy Son's white throning-star.
+Queen of Heaven, hear my prayer!
+
+HERD: Guenevere!  O Guenevere!
+
+MOTHER: Low she lies, and may not hear.
+The white lily, Guenevere,
+Ruthless time has trodden down;
+Arthur is a tarnished crown,
+High Gawain a broken spear,
+Percival a riven shield;
+They, who taught the world to yield,
+Closed with death and lost the field,
+Stricken by the last despair:
+Launcelot is but a name
+Blown about the winds of shame;
+Surely God has quenched the flame
+That burned men's souls for Guenevere.
+
+Mary, heed a mother's woe;
+Mary, heed a mother's tears!
+Thou, whose heart so long ago
+Knew the pangs and hopes and fears
+We poor mortal mothers know;
+Thou, to whom, on Christmas-morn,
+Christ, the Son of God, was born;
+Thou whose mother-love hath pressed
+The sweet Babe against thy breast;
+And with wondering joy hath felt
+The warm clutch of little hands,
+When the Kings from far-off lands--
+Crowned with gold, in gold attire--
+With the simple shepherds knelt
+'Mid the beasts within the byre;
+Mary, if Thy heart, afraid,
+When beyond Thy care he strayed,
+Sometimes grieved that he must grow
+Unlike other boys and men--
+Filled with dreams beyond Thy ken,
+Anguished with diviner woe,
+Pangs more fiery than Thy pain,
+Deeper than Thy dark despair--
+From the perils of the night
+Give me back my son again.
+Thou, whose love may never fail,
+Heed a lonely mother's prayer!
+Come in all Thy healing might!
+
+_A sudden glory sweeps across the Fells.  The vision appears in a cleft
+of the Crags.  The herd and his mother kneel before it._
+
+MOTHER: Mary, Queen of Heaven, hail!
+
+HERD (_falling forward_): Guenevere!  Guenevere!
+
+
+
+
+                            THE THREE KINGS.
+
+
+                              To C. J. S.
+
+
+
+                            The Three Kings
+
+PERSONS: KING GARLAND, KING ARLO, KING ASHALORN.
+
+SEA-VOICES, WAVE-VOICES, AND WIND-VOICES.
+
+SCENE: _A rock in the midst of the North Sea,_
+_whereon the three kings, bound naked by conquering_
+_sea-rovers, have been left to perish._
+
+VOICE OF THE DAWN-WIND: Awaken, O sea, from thy starry dream;
+Awaken, awaken!
+For delight of thy slumber not one pale gleam
+From dim star-clusters remaineth unshaken.
+All night I have haunted the valleys and rivers;
+Now hither I come--
+Ere, quickened with sunlight, the drowsy east quivers--
+To waken thy song, night-bewildered and dumb;
+To stir thy grey waters, of starlight forsaken,
+To loosen white foam in the red of the dawn.
+
+WAVE-VOICES: The sound of thy voice
+Has broken our sleep;
+All night we have waited thee, herald of light.
+We arise, we rejoice
+At thy bidding to leap,
+And spray with our laughter the trail of the night.
+All night we have waited thee, weary of stars--
+The little star-dreams, and the sleep without song;
+The deep-brooding slumber of silence that holds
+Our melody mute in the uttermost deep.
+O Wind of the Dawn, we have waited thee long;
+The sound of thy voice
+Has broken our sleep;
+We arise, we rejoice
+At thy bidding to leap,
+With a tumult of singing, a rapture of spray,
+To scatter our joy in the path of the day.
+
+GARLAND: Day comes at last, beyond the sea's grey rim;
+The young sun leaps in sudden might of gold.
+
+ASHALORN: Before his fire our lives will smoulder dim;
+Like stars we shine, we fade; the tale is told,
+And all our empty splendour put to scorn;
+Fate leaves us, who were clothed in pride, forlorn,
+To perish, naked, in this lonely sea.
+But yesterday we ruled as kings of earth;
+Frail men to-day; to-morrow, who shall be?
+
+ARLO: But yesterday my cup of life was filled
+To overflowing with the wine of mirth--
+The plashing joy from fruitful years distilled.
+
+GARLAND: But yesterday my kinghood sprang to birth;
+My fingers scarce had grasped the might new-born,
+When from my clutch the glittering pomp was torn.
+
+SEA-VOICES: They slumber, they slumber, the kings in their pride.
+The beak of the Rover is dipt in the tide;
+The sails of the Rover are red in the wind;
+And white is the trail of the foam flung behind.
+They have fallen, have fallen, the kings in their pride;
+Their sea-gates are forced by the rush of the tide;
+Their splendour is scattered as surf on the wind;
+And red is the trail of the terror behind.
+
+Forsaken, forlorn,
+On a rock of the sea,
+In anguish they bow,
+And wait for the night and the darkness to be;
+Oh, bright was the gold in their hair;
+The sea-weed, in scorn,
+Is twined in it now;
+Oh, rich was their raiment and rare,
+Blue, purple, and gold,
+In fold upon fold;
+Of glory and majesty shorn,
+They are clothed with the wind of despair.
+
+GARLAND: Lo, the live waters run to greet the day:
+Even so I laughed to see the soaring light;
+My life was poised like yonder curving wave
+To break in such bright revel of keen spray.
+
+ARLO: I counted not the years that took their flight,
+Gold-crowned and singing; every hour I stood,
+As one enchanted in an April wood,
+In some new paradise of scent and flowers.
+I counted not the countless, careless hours,
+The days of rapture and the nights of peace.
+How should I dream that such delight could pass,
+Such colour fade, such flowing numbers cease,
+My glory perish where was none to save,
+And all my strength be trodden in the grass?
+
+ASHALORN: Oh, blest art thou who diest in thy youth;
+Oh, blest art thou who failest in thy prime;
+While yet thine eyes are full of wondering truth;
+Ere yet thy feet have found the ways of thorn.
+Too long I wandered down the vale of time,
+A lonely wind, all songless and forlorn;
+For I have found the empty heart of things,
+The secret sorrow of the summer rose,
+And all the sadness of the April green;
+I know that every happy stream that springs
+Into a sea of bitter memories flows;
+I know the curse that God has set on kings--
+The solitary splendour and the crown
+Of desolation, and the prisoning state;
+The heart that yearns beneath the robe of gold,
+The soul that starves behind the golden gate.
+I know how chance has reared our earthly thrones
+Upon a shifting wrack of whitened bones,
+Of heroes fallen in the wars of old--
+By wind upbuilded and by wind cast down.
+
+SEA-VOICES: As foam on the edge of the waters of night,
+They flicker and fall;
+More brief than delight,
+More frail than their tears,
+They flicker and fall
+In the tide of the years;
+Awhile they may triumph, as lords of the earth,
+With feasting and mirth,
+Yet the winds and the waters shall sweep over all.
+
+VOICE OF THE WEST WIND: O wide-shifting wonder of sapphire and gold,
+O wandering glory of emerald and white,
+From the purple and green of the moorlands I come,
+To sweep o'er thy waters with turbulent flight,
+To sway thee, and swing thee abroad in my might;
+I lean to thy lips, to their white, curling foam,
+With laughter and kisses, to smite it to spray;
+To thine uttermost deep, unlitten and cold,
+I thrill thee with rapture, then wander away.
+
+I have drunk the red wine of the heather, and swept
+Over moorland and fell, for mile upon mile.
+The little blue loughs were merry, and leapt,
+With a shaking of laughter, in dim, dreaming hollows;
+The little blue loughs were merry, and flung
+Their spray on my wings as above them I swung;
+I laughed to their laughter, and dallied awhile;
+Then left them to sink in the silence that follows.
+
+In the forest I stirred, like the chant of thy tides,
+The song of the boughs and the branches a-swinging;
+The ashes and beeches and oak-trees were singing,
+Like the noise of thy waters when dark tempest rides.
+I swung on the crest of the pine-trees a-swaying,
+As now on thy green, flowing surges, O sea;
+I piped in my triumph, they danced to my playing;
+I left them a-murmur, to hasten to thee.
+
+The white clouds were driven like ships through the air,
+And grey flowed the shadows o'er sea-coloured bent,
+And dark on the heathland, and dark on the wold:
+But here on thy waters, where all things grow fair,
+They shadow with purple thine emerald and gold.
+My revel unbroken, my rapture unspent,
+To thy far-shining wonder, O sea, I have come,
+To sweep o'er thy splendour with turbulent flight;
+To sway thee, and swing thee abroad in my might;
+I lean to thy lips, to their white, curling foam,
+With laughter and kisses, to smite it to spray;
+To thine uttermost deep, unlitten and cold,
+I thrill thee with rapture, then wander away.
+
+GARLAND: There is no sadness in the world but death.
+The years that whitened o'er thy head have taken
+The colour from thy life, but still in me
+The blood beats young and red; yea, still my breath
+Is full of freshness as the wind that blows
+Across the morning-fells when night has shaken
+His cooling dews among the wakening heath.
+Yea, now the wind that lashes o'er the sea
+Stings all my quivering body to keen life
+And whips the blood into my straining limbs;
+And all the youth within me springs to fire;
+I am consumed with ravening desire
+For one brief, wild, delirious hour of strife;
+I yearn for every joy that flies or swims,
+Rides on the wind or with the water flows.
+Yet I must die by patient, slow degrees,
+With hourly wasting flesh and parching blood;
+Ah God, that I might leap into the flood,
+And perish struggling in the adventurous seas!
+
+ARLO: My mouth is filled with saltness, and I thirst
+For forest-pools that bubble in the shade,
+When loud the hot chase pants through every glade,
+And fleeing fawns from every thicket burst;
+Or clear wine vintaged when the world was young,
+Gurgling from deep-mouthed jars of coloured stone.
+
+ASHALORN: The noonday burns my body to the bone,
+And sets a coal of fire upon my tongue,
+Between my lips, and stifles all my breath.
+Oh come, thou only joy undying, death!
+
+WAVE-VOICES: O wind, that failing, failing, failing, dies,
+Beneath the heat of August-laden skies,
+Sinking in sleep, sinking in quiet sleep--
+Thy blue wings folded o'er our dreaming deep
+
+We too are weary, weary in the noon;
+We too will fall in shining slumber soon--
+Foamless and still, foamless and very still,
+Unstirred, unshaken by thy restless will.
+
+Yet there are eyes that cannot, cannot close,
+And strong souls racked by fiery, rending woes--
+Never to rest, never to gather rest
+By any stream of murmuring waters blest.
+
+But slumber falling, falling, on us lies,
+Silent and deep, beneath noon-laden skies,
+Silent and deep, silent and very deep,
+With blue wings folded o'er our dreaming sleep.
+
+                     *      *      *      *      *
+
+VOICE OF THE EVENING WIND: I have shaken the noon
+  from my wings, I arise
+To quicken the flame in the western skies--
+To blow the clouds to a streaming flame,
+Where the red sun sinks in the opal sea,
+And red as the heart of the opal glows
+His last wild gleam in the waters grey.
+O grey-green waters, curling to rose,
+The kings are glad of the dying day;
+The kings are weary; the white mists close--
+The white mists gather to cover their shame.
+
+ASHALORN: The evening mist is dank upon my brow,
+And cold upon my lips--yea, cold as death;
+Yet, through the gloom, she gazes on me now,
+As in our early-wedded days; her breath
+Is warm once more upon my withered cheek.
+O gaunt, grey lips, that strive but may not speak;
+O cold, grey eyes, that flicker in the gloam--
+Long have we strayed; come, let us wander home!
+
+ARLO: Like lit September woodlands, streameth down
+Her hair, beneath the circle of her crown;
+Of rarer, redder glory than the cold
+Dead metal that for ever strives to hold
+The ever-straying wonder of live gold!
+Like woodland pools, her eyes, a dreaming brown--
+Like woodland pools where autumn-splendours drown!
+O red-gold tresses, shaking in the gloam,
+Unto your light, unto your shade I come!
+
+GARLAND: Her eyes are azure as the wind-blown sea,
+With deep sea-shadowings of grey and green;
+And like an April storm her shining hair--
+Yea, all the glittering Aprils that have been,
+And all the wondering Aprils yet to be,
+Have stored their wealth of shower and sunshine there;
+Yea, all the thousand, thousand springs of earth
+New-lit and re-awakened at her birth,
+In her sweet body glow and glimmer fair.
+O wonder of sea-colours and white foam
+And April glories, to thine arms I come!
+
+VOICE OF THE EVENING WIND: The sun is gone,
+  and the last, red flame
+Has faded away in a shimmer of rose--
+A shimmer of rose that shivers to grey.
+The kings are glad of the dying day--
+The kings are weary; the white mists close,
+The white mists gather to cover their shame.
+
+
+
+
+                     THE SONGS OF QUEEN AVERLAINE.
+
+
+                                To M. B.
+
+
+
+PERSONS: THE KING,
+  QUEEN AVERLAINE,
+  THE KNIGHT ARKELD.
+
+
+                                   I.
+                            KING AND QUEEN.
+
+
+                                   1.
+
+The day has come; at last my dream unfolds
+  White, wondering petals with the rising sun.
+No other glade in Love's world-garden holds
+  So fair a bloom from vanquished winter won.
+
+Long, oh, so long I watched through budding hours,
+  And, trembling, feared my dream would never wake;
+As, one by one, I saw star-tranced flowers
+  Out on the night their dewy splendour shake.
+
+But with the earliest gleam of dawn it stirred,
+  Knowing that Love had put the dark to flight;
+And I must sing more glad than any bird
+  Because the sun has filled my dream with light.
+
+
+                                   2.
+
+Is it high noon, already, in the land?
+O Love, I dreamed that morn could never pass;
+That we might ever wander, hand in hand,
+As children in June-meadows plucking flowers,
+Through ever-waking, fresh-unfolding hours:
+Yet now we sink love-wearied in the grass;
+Yea, it is noon, high noon in all the land.
+
+The young wind slumbers; all the little birds
+That sang about us in the fields of morn
+Are songless now; no happy flight of words
+On Love's lip hovers--Love has waxed to noon.
+Ah, God, if Love should wane to evening soon
+To perish in a sunless world, forlorn,
+And cease with the last song of weary birds!
+
+
+                                   3.
+
+At dawn I gathered flowers of white,
+To garland them for your delight.
+
+At noon I gathered flowers of blue,
+To weave them into joy for you.
+
+At eve I gather purple flowers,
+To strew above the withered hours.
+
+
+                                   4.
+
+She knelt at eve beside the stream,
+And, sighing, sang: "O waters clear,
+Forsaken now of joy and fear,
+I come to drown a withered dream.
+
+"Unseen of day, I let it fall
+Within the shadow of my hair.
+O little dream, that bloomed so fair,
+The waters hide you after all!"
+
+
+                                   5.
+
+"Is it not dawn?" she cried, and raised her head,
+"Or hath the sun, grey-shrouded, yesternight,
+Gone down with Love for ever to the dead?
+When Love has perished, can there yet be light?"
+
+"Yea, it is dawn," one answered: "see the dew
+Quivers agleam, and all the east is white;
+While in the willow song begins anew."
+"When Love has perished, can there yet be light?"
+
+
+
+                                  II.
+                         AVERLAINE AND ARKELD.
+
+
+                                   1.
+
+ARKELD: Oh, why did you lift your eyes to mine?
+Oh, why did you lift your drooping head?
+
+AVERLAINE: The tangled threads of the fates entwine
+Our hearts that follow as children led.
+
+ARKELD: From the utmost ends of the earth we came,
+As star moves starward through wildering night.
+
+AVERLAINE: Our souls have mingled as flame with flame,
+Yea, they have mingled as light with light.
+
+ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!
+
+ARKELD: The stars in their courses move through the sky
+Unswerving, unheeding, cold and blind.
+
+AVERLAINE: Why did you linger nor pass me by
+Where the cross-roads meet in the ways that wind?
+
+ARKELD: I saw your eyes from the dusk of your hair
+Flame out with sorrow and yearning love.
+
+AVERLAINE: And I, who wandered with grey despair,
+Looking up, saw heaven in blossom above.
+
+ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!
+
+ARKELD: May we not go as we came, alone,
+Unto the ends of the earth anew?
+
+AVERLAINE: May we draw afresh from the rose new-blown
+The golden sunlight, the crystal dew?
+
+ARKELD: Yea, love between us has bloomed as a rose
+Out of the desert under our feet.
+
+AVERLAINE: May we forget how the red heart glows,
+Forget that the dew on the petals is sweet?
+
+ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!
+
+ARKELD: Have the ages brought us together that we
+Might tremble, start at shadows, and cry?
+
+AVERLAINE: Yea, it has been, and ever will be
+Till Sorrow be slain or Love's self die.
+
+ARKELD: Stronger than Sorrow is Love; and Hate,
+The brother of Love, shall end our Sorrow.
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow is strong with the strength of Fate,
+And, slain, would rise from the grave to-morrow.
+
+ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!
+
+AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow for ever between!
+
+
+                                   2.
+
+AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, and tear with ruthless hands
+The golden web wherein, too late, Love strove
+To weave us joy and bind us heart to heart.
+
+ARKELD: Yea, we must part, and strew on desert-sands
+Petal by petal all the rose of Love,
+And part for ever where the cross-ways part.
+
+AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, and never turn our eyes
+From strange horizons, desolate and far,
+Though Love cry ever: "Turn but once, sad heart!"
+
+ARKELD: Yea, we must part, and under alien skies
+Must follow after some cold, gleaming star,
+And roam, as north and south winds roam, apart.
+
+AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, ere Love be grown too strong
+And we too helpless to resist his might;
+While each may go with pure, unshamed heart.
+
+ARKELD: Yea, we must part; and though we do Love wrong,
+He will the more subdue us in our flight,
+And hold us each more surely his, apart.
+
+
+
+                         III. QUEEN AVERLAINE.
+
+
+                                   1.
+
+O love, I bade you go; and you have borne
+The summer with you from the valley-lands;
+The poppy-flame has perished from the corn;
+And in the chill, wan light of early morn
+The reapers come in doleful, starveling bands,
+To bind the blackened sheaves with listless hands;
+For rain has put their sowing-toil to scorn.
+
+O Love, I bade you go; and autumn brings
+Bleak desolation; yet within my heart
+Unquenched and fierce the flame you kindled springs;
+For, echoing all day long, the courtyard rings
+As loud it rang when, rending Love apart,
+Your white horse cantered--swift and keen to start--
+Into a world of other queens and kings.
+
+
+                                   2.
+
+I bade you go; ah, wherefore are you gone?
+How could you leave me dark and desolate,
+O Sun of Love, that for brief summer shone?
+Mine eyes are ever on the western gate,
+Half-wishing, half-foredreading your return.
+Return, O Love, return!
+
+I cannot live without you; through the dark
+I stretch blind hands to you across the world;
+All day on unknown battle-fields I mark
+Your sword's red course, your banner blue unfurled;
+Yet never, in my day-dreams, you return.
+Return, O Love, return!
+
+Nay, you are gone: O Love, I bade you go.
+I would not have you come again to be
+A stranger in this house of silent woe,
+Where, being all, you would be naught to me.
+Mine, mine in dreams, but lost if you return;
+Oh, nevermore return!
+
+
+                                   3.
+
+"To-day a wandering harper came
+With outland tales of deeds of fame;
+I hearkened from the noonday bright
+Until the failing of the light,
+The while he sang of joust and fight;
+Yet never once I caught your name.
+
+Oh, whither, whither are you gone,
+Whose name victorious ever shone
+Above all knights of other lands?
+Across what wilderness of sands?
+By what dead sea-deserted strands?
+On what far quest of Love forlorn?
+
+I loved you when men called you Lord
+Arkeld, the never-sleeping sword;
+Yet now, when all your might is furled,
+And you no longer crest the world,
+More are you mine than when you hurled
+Destruction on the embattled horde.
+
+
+                                   4.
+
+Oh, deeper in the silent house
+  The silence falls;
+Only the stir of bat or mouse
+  About the walls.
+
+No cry, no voice in any room,
+  No gust of breath;
+As if, within the clutch of doom,
+  We waited death.
+
+
+                                   5.
+
+The King is dead;
+  No longer now
+The cold eyes gleam
+  Beneath his brow.
+
+O cold, grey eyes,
+  Wherein the light
+Of Love at dawn
+  Seemed clear and bright,
+
+No true Love burned
+  Your cold desire,
+Which mirrored but
+  My own heart's fire.
+
+
+                                   6.
+
+The King died yesterday....  Ah, no, he died
+  When young Love perished long, so long ago;
+And on his throne, as marble at my side,
+  Has reigned a carven image, cold as snow,
+Though all men bowed before it, crying: "King!"
+
+Too late, too late the chains which held me fall;
+  Rock-bound, I bade the victor-knight go by;
+And now, when time has loosed me from the thrall,
+  I know not where he tarries, 'neath what sky
+He waits the winter's end, the dawn of spring.
+
+
+                                   7.
+
+Spring comes no more for me: though young March blow
+To flame the larches, and from tree to tree
+The green fire leap, till all the woodlands glow--
+Though every runnel, filled to overflow,
+Bear sea-ward, loud and brown with melted snow,
+Spring comes no more for me!
+
+Spring comes no more for me: though April light
+The flame of gorse above the peacock sea;
+Though in an interweaving mesh of white
+The seagulls hover 'neath the cliff's sheer height;
+Though, hour by hour, new joys are winged for flight,
+Spring comes no more for me!
+
+Spring comes no more for me: though May will shake
+White flame of hawthorn over all the lea,
+Till every thick-set hedge and tangled brake
+Puts on fresh flower of beauty for her sake;
+Though all the world from winter-sleep awake,
+Spring comes no more for me!
+
+
+                                   8.
+
+I wandered through the city till I came
+  Within the vast cathedral, cool and dim;
+I looked upon the windows all aflame
+  With blazoned knights and saints and seraphim.
+
+I looked on kings in purple, gold and blue,
+  On martyrs high before whom all men bow;
+Until a gleam of light my footsteps drew
+  Before a shining seraph, on whose brow
+
+A little flame, for ever pure and white,
+  Unwavering burns--the symbol of our love;
+And as I knelt before him in the night,
+  He looked, compassionate, on me from above.
+
+
+                                   9.
+
+I heard a harper 'neath the castle walls
+Sing, for night-shelter in the house of thralls,
+A song of hapless lovers; in the shade
+I paused awhile, unseen of man or maid.
+
+Taking his harp, he touched the moaning strings,
+And sang of queens unloved and loveless kings;
+His song shot through my fluttering heart like flame
+Till, wondering, I heard him breathe your name.
+
+Oh, then I knew how all the deathless wrong
+Time wrought of old is but a harper's song;
+And all the hopeless sorrow of long years
+An idle tale to win a stranger's tears.
+
+Yea, in the song of Love's immortal dead
+Our love was told; with shuddering heart I fled,
+And strove to pass upon my way unseen,
+But song was hushed with whispers: "Lo, the Queen!"
+
+
+                                  10.
+
+Was it for this we loved, O Time, to be
+Among Love's deathless through eternity,
+Set high on lone, divided peaks above
+The sheltered summer-valley, broad and green?
+Was it for this our joy and grief have been,
+Our barren day-dreams, dream-deserted nights--
+That valley-lovers, looking up, might see
+How vain is Love among the starry heights,
+And, loving, sigh: "How vain a thing is Love!"?
+
+O Love, that we had found thee in the shade
+Where, all day long, the deep, leaf-hidden glade
+Hears but the moan of some forsaken dove,
+Or the clear song of happy, nameless streams;
+Where, all night long, the August moonlight gleams
+Through warm, green dusk, no longer cold and white!
+O Love, that we had found thee, unafraid,
+One summer morn, and followed thee till night,
+As unknown valley-lovers follow Love!
+
+
+                                  11.
+
+I have grown old, awaiting spring's return,
+  And, now spring comes, I stand like winter grey
+In a young world; yet warm within me burn
+  The morning-fires Love kindled in youth's day.
+
+I have grown old; the young folk look on me
+  With sighs, and wonder that I once was fair,
+And whisper one another: "Is this she?
+  Did summer ever light that winter hair?
+
+"Ah, she is old; yet, she, too, once was young:
+  Yea, loved as we love even, for men tell
+How bright her beauty burned on every tongue,
+  And how a knightly stranger loved her well.
+
+"Yet Love grows old that beats so young and warm;
+  His leaping fires in dust and ashes fail;
+Shall we, too, wither in the winter-storm,
+  And wander thus one April, old and frail?"
+
+Love grows not old, O lovers, though youth die,
+  And bodily beauty perish as the flower;
+Though all things fail, though spring and summer fly,
+  Love's fire burns quenchless till the last dark hour.
+
+
+                                  12.
+
+O valley-lovers, think you love,
+Being all of joy, knows naught of sorrow?
+A day, a night
+Of swift delight
+That fears no dread, grey-dawning morrow?
+
+O valley-lovers, think you love
+Knows only laughter, naught of weeping?
+A rose-red fire
+Of warm desire
+For ever burning, never sleeping?
+
+O lovers, little know ye Love.
+Love is a flame that feeds on sorrow--
+A lone star bright
+Through endless night
+That waits a never-dawning morrow.
+
+
+                                  13.
+
+"Thus would I sing of life,
+Ere I must yield my breath:
+Though broken in the strife,
+I sought not after death.
+Though ruthless years have scourged
+My soul with sorrow's brands,
+And, day by day, have urged
+My feet o'er desert-sands;
+Yet would I rather tread
+Again the bitter trail,
+Than lie, calm-browed and pale,
+Among the loveless dead.
+
+No pang would I forego,
+No stab of suffering,
+No agony of woe,
+If I to life might cling;
+If I might follow still,
+For evermore, afar,
+O'er barren dale and hill,
+My Love's unfading star.
+Yea, now, with failing breath,
+Thus would I sing of life:
+Though broken in the strife,
+I sought not after death.
+
+
+                                  14.
+
+Darkness has come upon me in the end;
+Darkness has come upon me like a friend,
+Yet undesired; why comest thou, O night,
+To seal mine eyes for ever from the light?
+
+Darkness has come upon me; yet a star
+Burns through the night and beckons me from far.
+Look up, O eyes, unfaltering, without fear;
+O morning-star of Love, the dawn is near!
+
+
+
+
+                            THE GOLDEN HELM.
+
+
+
+                            The Golden Helm
+
+
+                                   I.
+
+Across his stripling shoulders Geoffrey felt
+The knighting-sword fall lightly, and he heard
+The King's voice bid him rise; and at the word
+He rose, new-flushed with knighthood, swiftly grown
+To sudden manhood, though, but now, he knelt
+A vigil-wearied squire before the throne.
+He paused one moment while the people turned
+To look on him with eyes that kindled bright,
+Seeing his face aglow with strange, new light;
+Yet them he saw not where they watched amazed,
+And, though like azure flames Queen Hild's eyes burned,
+Beyond the shadow of the throne he gazed
+To where, in kindred rapture, young Christine
+Stood, tremulous and white, in wind-flower grace--
+Beneath her thick, dark hair, her happy face
+Pale-gleaming 'midst the ruddy maiden-throng;
+But, following Geoffrey's eyes, the trembling Queen
+Now bade the harpers rouse the air with song:
+From pulsing throat and silver-throbbing string
+The music soared, light-winged, and, fluttering, fell;
+When, startled as one waking from a spell,
+Geoffrey stepped back among the waiting knights;
+While knelt another squire before the King.
+In Queen Hild's eyes yet hovered stormy lights,
+Beneath her glooming brows, as waters gleam
+Under snow-laden skies; the summer day
+For her in that brief glance had shivered grey,
+Empty of light and song.  She only heard
+The King and knights as people of a dream;
+Yet keenly Geoffrey's lightest, laughing word
+Stung to the quick, and stabbed her quivering life,
+Till from each shuddering wound the red joy flowed;
+And, though a ruddy fire on each cheek glowed,
+She felt her drained heart within her cold;
+Then all at once a hot thought stirred new strife
+Within her breast, and suddenly grown old
+And wise in treacherous imagining,
+She pressed her thin lips to a bitter smile,
+And strove with laughing mask to hide the guile
+That, slowly welling, through her body poured
+Cold-blooded life that feels no arrowy sting
+Of joy or hope, nor thrust of pity's sword.
+To Christine, where she yet enraptured stood,
+Hild, turning, spake kind words, and coldly praised
+The new-made knight.  Each word Christine amazed
+Drank in with joyous heart and eager ears;
+To her it seemed ne'er lived a Queen so good;
+And love's swift rapture filled her eyes with tears.
+For her true heart, the day-long pageant moved
+Round Geoffrey's shining presence; king and knight
+But shone for her with pale, reflected light.
+As tranced planets circling round the sun,
+About the radiant head of her beloved
+The dim throngs moved until the day was done.
+When lucent gold suffused the cloudless west,
+And lingering thrush-notes failed in drowsy song,
+She left, at last, the weary maiden-throng,
+To stray alone through dew-hung garden-glades;
+And all the love unsealed within her breast
+Flowed out from her to light the darkest shades.
+Her quivering maiden-body could not hold
+The sudden welling of love's loosened flood;
+Through all her limbs it gushed, and in her blood
+It stormed each throbbing pulse with blissful ache;
+It seemed to spray the utmost glooms with gold,
+And scatter glistening dews in every brake.
+While yet she moved in rapture unafraid
+Among the lilies, down the Grey Nun's Walk,
+She heard behind the snapping of a stalk,
+And stayed transfixed, nor dared to turn her head,
+But stood a solitary, trembling maid--
+Forlorn and frail, with all her courage fled.
+Thus Geoffrey found her as, hot-foot, he pressed
+To pour about her all the glowing tide
+Day-pent within his heart; the flood-gates wide,
+His love swept over her, sea after sea,
+Until life almost swooned within her breast,
+And she seemed like to drown in ecstasy.
+Yet, as the tempest sank in calm at last,
+She rose from out the foam of love, new-born--
+As Venus from the irised surf of morn--
+To such triumphant beauty, Geoffrey, thralled,
+Before her stood in wonder rooted fast;
+Even his love within him bowed appalled
+In tongueless worship as he gazed on her;
+While, lily-like, the tranced flowers among,
+She stood, love-radiant, and above her hung
+The canopy of star-enkindling night;
+Though, when again she moved with joyous stir,
+He sprang to her in love's unchallenged might.
+
+
+                                  II.
+
+All night, beside her slumbering lord, the Queen
+Tossed sleepless--every aching sense astrain
+With tingling wakefulness that racked like pain
+Her weary limbs; all night, in wide-eyed dread,
+She watched the slow hours moving dark between
+The glimmering window and the curtained bed.
+The fitful calling of the owl, all night,
+Struck like the voice of terror on her ears;
+With brushing wings, about her taloned fears
+Fluttered till dawn: when, as the summer gloom,
+Grey-quivering, spilt in silver-showering light,
+She rose and stood within the dawning room,
+Shivering and pale--her long, unbraided hair
+Each moment quickening to a livelier gold
+About her snowy shoulders; yet, more cold
+Than the still gleam of winter-frozen meres,
+Her blue eyes shone with strange, unseeing stare,
+As though they sought to pierce some mist of fears;
+And, when she turned, the old familiar things
+Unknown and alien seemed to her sight--
+Outworn and faded in the morning light
+The rose-embroidered tapestries, and frail
+The painted Love that hung on irised wings
+Above the sleeping King.  Dark-browed and pale
+She looked upon her lord, and fresh despair
+With dreadful calm through all her being stole,
+And froze with icy breath the flickering soul
+That strove within her.  Evil courage steeled
+Her heart once more, as, combing back her hair,
+She watched the waking world of wood and field:
+Hay-harvesters with long scythes flashing white;
+The dewy-browsing deer; the blue smoke-curl
+Above some woodland hut; a kerchiefed girl
+Driving the kine afield with loitering pace.
+But, as a youthful rider came in sight,
+She from the casement turned with darkening face,
+And looked not out again, and fiercely pressed
+Her white teeth in her quivering underlip,
+To stifle the wild cry that strove to slip
+From her strained throat; with clutching hands she sought
+To stay the throbbing tumult of her breast
+That fluttered like a bird in meshes caught.
+
+Christine as yet in dreamless slumber lay
+Within her turret-chamber; but a bird
+Within the laurel singing softly stirred
+Her eyes to wakeful life, and from her bed
+She rose and stood within the light of day,
+White-faced and wondering, with lifted head.
+As April-butterflies, new-winged for flight,
+That poise awhile in quivering amaze,
+Ere they may dare the unknown, glittering ways
+Of perilous airs--upon the brink of morn
+She paused one moment in the showering light,
+In radiant ecstasy of youth forlorn.
+Then swift remembrance flushed her virgin snow,
+And wakened in her eyes the living fire;
+With joyous haste she drew her bright attire
+About her trembling limbs, with eager hands,
+Veiling her maiden beauty's morning glow,
+Before she looked abroad on meadowlands,
+Where Geoffrey rode at dawn.  Across the blaze
+Of dandelions silvering to seed,
+She saw his white horse swing with easy speed;
+He rode with head exultant in the breeze
+That lifted his brown hair.  With lingering gaze
+She watched him vanish down an aisle of trees;
+Then, swiftly gathering her dark hair in braids
+Above her slender neck, she crossed the floor
+With noiseless step, unlatched the creaking door,
+And stole in trembling silence down the stair,
+Intent to reach the garden ere the maids
+Should come with chattering tongues and laughter there;
+When by her side she heard a rustling stir:
+The arras parted, and before her stood
+Queen Hild in proud, imperious womanhood,
+Looking upon her with cold, smiling eyes.
+In startled wonder Christine glanced at her.
+Then spake the Queen: "Do maids thus early rise
+To tend their household duties, or to feed
+The doves, relinquishing sleep's precious hours
+To see the morning dew upon the flowers
+And what frail blooms have perished 'neath the moon?
+To reach the Grey Nun's Walk, mayhap you speed--
+To count the stricken buds of lilies strewn
+O'ernight upon the soil by careless feet
+That wandered there so late?  Yea, now I know,
+Christine, because you flush and tremble so.
+Yet look you not on me with eyes that burn;
+I would not stay you when you go to greet
+The rider of the dawn on his return.
+Think you I leave my bed at break of day--
+I, Hild the Queen--to thwart a lover's kiss?
+Think you my love of you could stoop to this,
+Though you would wed a fledgling, deedless Knight?
+Nay, shrink you not from me, turn not away;
+Because my heart has never known love's light,
+I fain would hear your happy tale of love,
+That I may prosper you and your fair youth.
+Will you not trust me?"  Blind with love's glad truth,
+Christine sank down within Hild's outstretched arms.
+Speechless, awhile, with sobbing breath she strove;
+Then poured out all the tale of love's alarms,
+Raptures, despairs, and deathless ecstasies,
+In one quick torrent from her brimming heart;
+Then, quaking, ceased, and drew herself apart,
+Dismayed that she so easily had revealed
+To this white, cold-eyed Queen love's sanctities.
+Yet Hild moved not, but stood, with hard lips sealed,
+Until, the chiming of the turret-bell
+Recalling her, she spake with far-off voice:
+"I, loveless, in your innocent love rejoice.
+May nothing stem its eager raptured course!
+Oh, that my barren heart could love so well,
+And feel the surge of love's subduing force!
+Yet even I from out my dearth may give
+To you, Christine.  Would you that Geoffrey's name
+Shall shine, unchallenged, on the lists of fame?
+If you would have him win for you the crown
+Of knightly immortality, and live
+Triumphant on men's tongues in high renown,
+Follow me now."  With cold, exulting eyes
+She raised the arras, opening to the light
+An unknown stair-way clambering into night.
+Within the caverned wall she swiftly passed.
+Christine for one brief moment in surprise
+Uncertain paused; then, wondering, followed fast.
+The falling arras shutting out the day,
+She stumbled blindly through the soaring gloom--
+Enclosing dank and chilly as the tomb
+Her panting life; and unto her it seemed
+That ever, as she climbed, more sheer the way
+Before her rose, and ever fainter gleamed
+The wan, white star of light that overhead
+Hovered remote.  Far up the stair she heard
+A silken rustling as, without a word,
+Relentlessly Queen Hild before her sped
+For ever up the ever-soaring steep.
+But when it almost seemed that she must fall--
+So loudly in her ears the pulses beat,
+And each step seemed to sink beneath her feet--
+She heard the shrilly grating of a key,
+And saw, above her, in the unseen wall,
+A dazzling square of day break suddenly.
+Within the lighted doorway Queen Hild turned
+To reach a helping hand, and, as she bent
+To clutch the swooning maiden, well-nigh spent,
+And drew her to the chamber, weak and faint,
+Through her gold hair so rare a lustre burned,
+It seemed to Christine that an aureoled saint
+Leaned out from heaven to snatch her from the deep.
+Then, dizzily, she sank upon the floor,
+Dreaming that toil was over evermore,
+And she secure in Love's celestial fold;
+Till, waking gradually as from a sleep,
+Her dark eyes opened on a blaze of gold.
+She sat within a chamber hung around
+With glistering tapestry, whereon a knight,
+Who bore a golden helm above the fight,
+For ever triumphed o'er assailing swords,
+Or led the greenwood chase with horse and hound,
+While far behind him lagged the dames and lords
+And all the hunting train; till he, at length,
+Brought low the antlered quarry on the brink
+Of some deep, craggy cleft, wherefrom did shrink
+The quailing hounds with lathered flanks aquake.
+As Christine looked on them, her maiden-strength
+Returned to her; and now, more broad awake,
+She saw, within the centre of the room,
+A golden table whereon glittered bright
+A casket of wrought gold, and, in the light,
+Queen Hild, awaiting her, with smiling lips,
+And laughing words: "Is this then love's sad doom,
+To perish, fainting, in light's brief eclipse
+Between a curtain and a closed door?
+Shall this bright casket ever hold, unsought,
+The golden helm--in elfin-ages wrought
+For some star-destined knight--because love's heart
+Grows faint within her?  Shall the world no more
+Acclaim its helmed lord?"  But, with a start,
+Christine arose, and swiftly forward came
+With eager eyes, and stooped with fluttering breast--
+Her slender, shapely hands together pressed
+In tense expectancy, and all her face
+With quivering light of wondering love aflame.
+The Queen bent down, and in a breathing space
+Unlocked the casket with a golden key,
+And deftly loosed a little golden pin;
+The heavy lid swung open and, within,
+To Christine's eyes revealed the golden helm.
+Then spake Queen Hild, once more: "Your love-gift see!
+Think you that any smith in all the realm
+Can beat dull metal to so fair a casque?
+In jewelled caverns of enchantment old
+This helm was wrought of magic-tempered gold
+To yieldless strength, by elfin-hammers chased,
+That toiled unwearied at their age-long task,
+And over it an unknown legend traced
+In letters of some world-forgotten tongue.
+At noon, with careful footing, down the stair
+Unto the hall the casket you must bear,
+When King and knight are gathered round the board,
+And, ere the tales be told or songs be sung,
+Acclaim your love the golden-helmed lord."
+Christine, awhile, in speechless wonderment,
+Hung o'er the glistering helm, and silence fell
+Within the arrased chamber like a spell;
+While softly, on some distant, sunlit roof,
+The basking pigeons cooed with deep content;
+Till, far below, a sudden-clanging hoof
+Startled the morn.  The women's lifted eyes
+One moment met in kindred ecstasy;
+Then Hild, with hopeless shudder, shaking free,
+With strained voice spake: "Why do you longer wait?
+Your love returns; shall he, in sad surprise,
+Find no glad face to greet him at the gate?"
+
+
+                                  III.
+
+As some new jest was tossed from tongue to tongue,
+Light laughter rippled round the midday board,
+Beneath the bannered rafters: dame and lord
+And maid and squire with merry chattering
+Sat feasting; though no motley humour wrung
+A smile from Hild, where she, beside the King,
+Watched pale and still.  She saw on Geoffrey's face
+Grave wonder that he caught not anywhere
+Among the maids the dusk of Christine's hair,
+Or sunlight of her glance.  His eyes, between
+The curtained doorway and her empty place,
+Kept eager, anxious vigil for Christine.
+But when, at last, the lingering meal nigh o'er,
+The waking harp-notes trembled through the hush,
+Like the light, fitful prelude of the thrush
+Ere his full song enchant the domed elm;
+The arras parting, through the open door
+She came.  Before her borne, the golden helm
+Within the dim-lit hall shone out so bright,
+That lord and dame in rustling wonder rose,
+And squire and maiden sought to gather close,
+With questioning lips, about the love-bright maid.
+Christine, unheeding, turned nor left nor right;
+With lifted head and eager step unstayed,
+She strode to Geoffrey, while he stood alone,
+Radiant with wondering love--as one who sees
+The light of high, eternal mysteries
+Illume awhile the mortal shade that moves
+From out oblivion unto night unknown,
+Hugging a little grace of joys and loves.
+Before him now she came and, kneeling, spake,
+With slow, clear-welling voice: "In ages old
+This helm was wrought from elfin-hammered gold,
+For one who, in the after-days, should be
+Supreme above his kind, as, in the brake
+Of branching fern, the solitary tree
+That crests the fell-top.  Unto you I bring
+The gift of destiny, that, as the sun
+New-risen of your knighthood, newly-won,
+The wondering world may see its glory shine."
+As Christine spake, with questioning glance the King
+Turned to the Queen, who gave no answering sign.
+Then, stretching forth his arm, he cried: "Sir knight,
+I know not by what evil chance this maid
+Has climbed the secret newell-stair unstayed
+And reached the casket-chamber, and has borne
+From thence the Helm of Strife, whereon the light
+Of day has never fallen, night or morn,
+For seven hundred years; but, ere you take
+The doomful gift, know this: he who shall dare
+To don the golden helm must ever fare
+Upon the edge of peril, ever ride
+Between dark-ambushed dangers, ever wake
+Unto the thunderous crash of battle-tide.
+Oh, pause before you take the fateful helm.
+Will you, so young, forego, for evermore,
+The sheltered haven-raptures of the shore,
+To strive in ceaseless tempest, till, at last,
+The fury-crested wave shall overwhelm
+Your broken life on death's dark crag upcast?"
+He ceased, and stood with eyes of hot appeal;
+An aching silence shuddered through the hall;
+None stirred nor spake, though, swaying like to fall,
+Christine, in mute, imploring agony,
+Wavered nigh death.  As glittering points of steel
+Queen Hild's eyes gleamed in bitter victory.
+But all were turned to Geoffrey, where he stood
+In pillared might of manhood, very fair;
+His face a little paled beneath his hair,
+Though bright his eyes with all the light of day.
+At length he spake: "For evil or for good,
+I take the Helm of Strife; let come what may."
+
+
+                                  IV.
+
+Dawn shivered coldly through the meadowlands;
+The ever-trembling aspens by the stream
+Quivered with chilly light and fitful gleam;
+Ruffling the heavy foliage of the plane,
+Until the leaves turned, like pale, lifted hands,
+A cold gust stirred with presage of near rain.
+Coldly the light on Geoffrey's hauberk fell;
+But yet more cold on Christine's heart there lay
+The winter-clutch of grief, as, far away,
+She saw him ride, and in the stirrup rise
+And, turning, wave to her a last farewell.
+Beyond the ridge he vanished, and her eyes
+Caught the far flashing of the helm of gold
+One moment as it glanced with mocking light;
+Then naught but tossing pine-trees filled her sight.
+Yet darker gloomed the woodlands 'neath the drench
+Of pillared showers; colder and yet more cold
+Her heart had shuddered since the last, hot wrench
+Of parting overnight.  Though still her mouth
+Felt the mute impress of love's sacred seal;
+Though still through all her senses seemed to steal
+The heavy fume of wound-wort that had hung
+All night about the hedgerows--parched with drouth;
+Though the first notes the missel-cock had sung,
+Ere darkness fled, resounded in her ears;
+Yet no hot tempest of tumultuous woe
+Shook her young body.  As night-fallen snow
+Burdens with numb despair young April's green,
+Her sorrow lay upon her; hopes and fears
+Within her slept.  As something vaguely seen
+Nor realised--since yesterday's dread noon
+Had shattered all love's triumph--life had passed
+About her like a dream by doom o'ercast.
+Long hours she sat, with silent, folded hands,
+And face that glimmered like a winter moon
+In cloudy hair.  Across the rain-grey lands
+She gazed with eyes unseeing; till she heard
+A step within her chamber, and her name
+Fell dully on her ear; then like a flame
+Sharp anguish shot through every aching limb
+With keen remembrance.  Suddenly she stirred,
+And, turning, looked on Hild.  "Grieve you for him..."
+The Queen began; then, with a little gasp,
+Her voice failed, and she shrank before the gaze
+Of Christine's eyes, and, shrivelled by the blaze
+Of fires her hand had kindled, all her pride
+Fell shredded, and not even the gold clasp
+Of queenhood held, her naked deed to hide.
+She quailed, and, turning, fled from out the room.
+Soon Christine's wrath was drowned in whelming grief,
+And in the fall of tears she found relief--
+As brooding skies in sweet release of rain.
+All day she wept, until, at length, the gloom
+Of eve laid soothing hands upon her pain.
+Then, once again, she rose, calm-browed, and sped
+Downstairs with silent step, and reached, unstayed,
+The Grey Nun's Walk, where all alone a maid
+Drank in the rain-cooled air.  With low-breathed words,
+They whispered long together, while, o'erhead,
+From rain-wet branches rang the song of birds.
+The maiden often paused as in alarm;
+Then, with uncertain, half-delaying pace,
+She left Christine, returning in a space
+With Philip, Christine's brother, a young squire,
+Who strode by her with careless, swinging arm
+And eager face, with keen, blue eyes afire.
+Then all three stood, with whispering heads bent low,
+In eager converse clustered; till, at last,
+They parted, and, with high hopes beating fast,
+Christine unto her turret-room returned--
+Her dark eyes bright and all her face aglow,
+As if some new-lit rapture in her burned.
+About her little chamber swift she moved,
+Until, at length, in travelling array,
+She paused to rest, and all-impatient lay
+Upon her snow-white bed, and watched the light
+Fail from the lilied arras that she loved
+Because her hand had wrought each petal white
+And slender, emerald stem.  The falling night
+Was lit for her with many a memory
+Of little things she could no longer see,
+That had been with her in old, happy hours,
+Before her girlish joys had taken flight
+As morning dews from noon-unfolding flowers.
+For her, with laggard pace the minutes trailed,
+Till night seemed to eternity outdrawn.
+At last, an hour before the summer-dawn,
+She rose and once again, with noiseless tread,
+Crept down the stair, grey-cloaked and closely veiled,
+While every shadow struck her cold with dread
+Lest, drawing back the arras, Hild should stand
+With mocking smile before her; but, unstayed,
+She reached the stair-foot, and, no more afraid,
+She sought a low and shadow-hidden door,
+Slid back the silent bolts with eager hand,
+And stepped into the garden dim once more.
+She quickly crossed a dewy-plashing lawn,
+And, passing through a little wicket-gate,
+She reached the road.  Not long had she to wait
+Ere, with two bridled horses, Philip came.
+Silent they mounted; far they fared ere dawn
+Burnished the castle-weathercock to flame.
+
+
+                                   V.
+
+Northward they climbed from out the valley mist;
+Northward they crossed the sun-enchanted fells;
+Northward they plunged down deep, fern-hidden dells;
+And northward yet--until the sapphire noon
+Had burned and glowed to thunderous amethyst
+Of evening skies about an opal moon;
+Northward they followed fast the loud-tongued fame
+Of young Sir Geoffrey of the golden helm;
+Until it seemed that storm must overwhelm
+Their weary flight.  They sought a lodging-place,
+And soon upon a lonely cell they came
+Wherein a hermit laboured after grace.
+On beds of withered bracken, soft and warm,
+He housed them, and himself, all night, alone,
+Knelt in long vigil on the aching stone,
+Within his little chapel, though, all night,
+His prayers were drowned by thunders of the storm,
+And all about him flashed blue, pulsing light.
+Christine in calm, undreaming slumber lay,
+Nor stirred till, clear and glittering, the morn
+Sang through the forest; though, with roots uptorn,
+The mightiest-limbed and highest-soaring oak
+Had fallen charred, with green leaves shrivelled grey.
+At tinkling of the matin-bell she woke,
+And soon with Philip left the woodland boughs
+For barer uplands.  Over tawny bent
+And purpling heath they rode till day was spent;
+When, down within a broad, green-dusking dale,
+They sought the shelter of the holy house
+Of God's White Sisters of the Virgin's Veil.
+So, day by day, they ever northward pressed,
+Until they left the lands of peace behind,
+And rode among the border-hills, where blind
+Insatiate warfare ever rages fierce;
+Where night-winds ever fan a fiery crest,
+And dawn's light breaks on bright, embattled spears:
+A land whose barren hills are helmed with towers;
+A lone, grey land of battle-wasted shires;
+A land of blackened barns and empty byres;
+A land of rock-bound holds and robber-hordes,
+Of slumberous noons and wakeful midnight hours,
+Of ambushed dark and moonlight flashing swords.
+With hand on hilt and ever-kindling eyes,
+Flushed face and quivering nostril, Philip rode;
+But nought assailed them; every lone abode
+Forsaken seemed; all empty lay the land
+Beneath the empty sky; only the cries
+Of plovers pierced the blue on either hand;
+Until, at sudden cresting of a hill,
+The clang of battle sounded on their ears,
+And, far below, they saw a surge of spears
+Crash on unyielding ranks; while, from the sea
+Of striving steel, with deathly singing shrill,
+A spray of arrows flickered fitfully.
+Amazed they stood, wide-eyed, with holden breath;
+When, of a sudden, flashed upon their sight
+The golden helm in midmost of the fight,
+Where, with high-lifted head and undismayed,
+Sir Geoffrey rode, a very lord of death,
+With ever-leaping, ever-crashing blade.
+Christine watched long, now cold with quaking dread,
+Now hot with hope as each assailant fell;
+The bright sword held her gaze as by a spell;
+Because love blinded her to all but love,
+Unmoved she watched the foemen shudder dead,
+She whose heart erst the meanest woe could move.
+Then, dazed, she saw a solitary shaft,
+Unloosed with certain aim from out the bow,
+Strike clean through Geoffrey's hauberk, and bring low
+The golden helm, while o'er him swiftly met
+The tides of fight.  Christine a little laughed
+With rattling throat, and stood with still eyes set.
+Scarce Philip dared to raise his eyes to hers
+To see the terror there.  No word she spake,
+But leaned a little forward through the brake
+That bloomed about her in a golden blaze;
+Her hands were torn to bleeding by the furze,
+Yet nothing could disturb that dreadful gaze.
+Then, gradually, the heaving battle swerved
+To northward, faltering broken, and afar
+It closed again, where, round a jutting scar,
+The flashing torrent of the river curved.
+With eager step Christine ran down the hill,
+And sped across the late-forsaken field
+To where, with shattered sword and splintered shield,
+Among the mounded bodies Geoffrey lay.
+She loosed his helm, but deathly pale and still
+His young face gleamed within the light of day.
+Christine beside him knelt, as Philip sought
+A draught of water from the peat-born stream;
+When, in his eyes, at last, a fitful gleam
+Flickered, and bending low, with straining ears,
+The laboured breathing of her name she caught;
+And over his dead face fell fast her tears.
+Once more towards them the tide of battle swept;
+Christine moved not.  Young Philip on her cried,
+And strove, in vain, to draw her safe aside.
+A random shaft in her unshielded breast--
+Though hot to stay its course her brother leapt--
+Struck quivering, and she slowly sank to rest.
+
+
+                                  VI.
+
+Queen Hild sat weaving in her garden-close,
+When on her startled ear there fell the news
+Of Christine's flight before the darkling dews
+Had thrilled with dawn.  A strand of golden thread
+Slipped from her trembling fingers as she rose
+And hastened to the castle with drooped head.
+All morn she paced within her blinded room,
+Unresting, to and fro, her white hands clenched;
+All morn within her tearless eyes, unquenched,
+Blue fires of anger smouldered, yet no moan
+Escaped her lips.  Without, in summer bloom,
+The garden murmured with bliss-burdened drone
+Of hover-flies and lily-charmed bees;
+Sometimes a finch lit on the window-ledge,
+With shrilly pipe, or, from the rose-hung hedge,
+A blackbird fluted; yet she neither heard
+Nor heeded aught; until, by rich degrees,
+Drowsed into noon the noise of bee and bird.
+Yea, even when, without her chamber, stayed
+A doubtful step, and timid fingers knocked,
+She answered not, but, swiftly striding, locked
+Yet more secure, with angry-clicking key,
+The bolted door, and the affrighted maid
+Unto the waiting hall fled, fearfully.
+Wearied at last, upon her bed Queen Hild
+In fitful slumber sank; but evil dreams
+Of battle-stricken lands and blood-red streams
+Swirled through her brain.  Then, suddenly, she woke,
+Wide-eyed, and sat upright, with body chilled,
+Though in her throat the hot air seemed to choke.
+Swiftly she rose; then, binding her loosed hair,
+She bathed her throbbing brows, and, cold and calm,
+Downstairs she glided, while the evening-psalm
+In maiden-voices quavered, faint and sweet,
+And from the chapel-tower, through quivering air,
+The bell's clear silver-tinkling clove the heat.
+She strode into the hall where yet the King
+Sat with his knights; a weary minstrel stirred
+Cool, throbbing wood-notes, throated like a bird,
+From his soft-stringed lute.  With scornful eyes
+Hild looked on them and spake: "Can nothing sting
+Your slumberous hearts from slothful peace to rise?
+Must only stripling-knights and maidens ride
+To battle, where, unceasing, foemen wage
+War on your marches, and your wardens rage
+In impotent despair with desperate swords,
+While you, O King, with sheathed arms abide?"
+She paused, and, wondering, the King and lords
+Looked on her mutely; then, again, she spake:
+"Shall I, then, and my maidens sally forth
+With battle-brands to conquer the wild north?
+Yea, I will go!  Who follows after me?"
+As by a blow struck suddenly awake,
+The King leapt up, and, like a clamorous sea,
+The knights about him.  Scornfully the Queen
+Looked on them: "So my woman's words have roused
+The hands that slumbered and the hearts that drowsed.
+Make ready then for battle; ere seven days
+Have passed, the dawn must light your armour's sheen,
+And in the sun your pennoned lances blaze."
+Her voice ceased; and a pulsing flame of light
+Flashed through the hall; in crashing thunder broke
+The heavy, hanging heat; the rafters woke
+In echo as the rainy torrent poured;
+Bright gleamed the rapid lightning; yet more bright
+The war-lust kindled hot in every lord.
+To clang of armour the seventh morning stirred
+From slumber; restless hoof and champing bit
+Aroused the garth; and day, arising, lit
+A hundred lances, as, each bolt withdrawn,
+The courtyard-gate swung wide with noise far-heard,
+And flickering pennons rode into the dawn--
+Before his knights, the King, and at his side,
+Queen Hild, with ever-northward-gazing eyes;
+But, ere they far had fared, in mute surprise
+They stayed and all drew rein, as down the road
+They saw a little band of warriors ride--
+Sore travel-stained--who bore a heavy load
+Upon a branch-hung litter; while before
+Came Philip, bearing a war-broken lance.
+Though King and lords looked, wondering, in a glance
+Queen Hild had read the sorrow of his face
+And pierced the leaf-hid secret--which e'ermore
+A brand of fire upon her heart would trace.
+Darkness about her swirled, but, with a fierce
+Wild, conquering shudder, shaking herself free,
+Unto the light she clung, though like a sea
+It surged and eddied round her; yet so still
+She sat, none knew her steely eyes could pierce
+The leafy screen.  With guilty terror chill,
+She heard the king speak--sadly riding forth:
+"Whence come you, Philip, battle-stained and slow?
+What burden bear you with such brows of woe?"
+Then Philip answered, mournfully: "I bring
+Two wanderers home from out the perilous north.
+Prepare to gaze on death's defeat, O King."
+They lowered the litter slowly to the ground;
+Back fell the branches; in the light of day,
+In calm, white sleep Christine and Geoffrey lay,
+And at their feet the baleful Helm of Strife
+Sword-cloven.  Hushed stood all the knights around,
+When spake the King, alighting: "Come, O wife,
+And let us twain, with humble heads low-bowed,
+Even at the feet of love triumphant stand,
+A little while together, hand in hand."
+The Queen obeyed; but, fearfully, she shrank
+Before the eyes of death, and, quaking, cowed,
+With moaning cry, low in the dust she sank.
+
+
+
+                     PRINTED BY R. FOLKARD AND SON,
+            23, DEVONSHIRE STREET, QUEEN SQUARE, BLOOMSBURY.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN HELM ***
+
+
+
+
+A Word from Project Gutenberg
+
+
+We will update this book if we find any errors.
+
+This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42052
+
+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.  Special rules, set forth in the
+General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and
+distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works to protect the
+Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a
+registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks,
+unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything
+for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may
+use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative
+works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and
+printed and given away - you may do practically _anything_ with public
+domain eBooks.  Redistribution is subject to the trademark license,
+especially commercial redistribution.
+
+
+
+The Full Project Gutenberg License
+
+
+_Please read this before you distribute or use this work._
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg(tm) mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or
+any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg(tm) License available with this file or online at
+http://www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+Section 1. General Terms of Use & Redistributing Project Gutenberg(tm)
+electronic works
+
+
+*1.A.* By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg(tm)
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the
+terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all
+copies of Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works in your possession. If
+you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg(tm) electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+*1.B.* "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things
+that you can do with most Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works even
+without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph
+1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg(tm) electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic
+works. See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+*1.C.* The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the
+Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of
+Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works. Nearly all the individual works
+in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you
+from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating
+derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project
+Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the
+Project Gutenberg(tm) mission of promoting free access to electronic
+works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg(tm) works in compliance with
+the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg(tm) name
+associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this
+agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full
+Project Gutenberg(tm) License when you share it without charge with
+others.
+
+
+*1.D.* The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg(tm) work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+*1.E.* Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+*1.E.1.* The following sentence, with active links to, or other
+immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg(tm) License must appear
+prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg(tm) work (any work
+on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed,
+performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
+
+    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 http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+*1.E.2.* If an individual Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic work is
+derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating
+that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can
+be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying
+any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a
+work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on
+the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs
+1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg(tm) trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+*1.E.3.* If an individual Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic work is
+posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and
+distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and
+any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
+will be linked to the Project Gutenberg(tm) License for all works posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of
+this work.
+
+*1.E.4.* Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project
+Gutenberg(tm) License terms from this work, or any files containing a
+part of this work or any other work associated with Project
+Gutenberg(tm).
+
+*1.E.5.* Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg(tm) License.
+
+*1.E.6.* You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg(tm) work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg(tm) web site
+(http://www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or
+expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a
+means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include
+the full Project Gutenberg(tm) License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+*1.E.7.* Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg(tm) works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+*1.E.8.* You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works
+provided that
+
+  - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+    the use of Project Gutenberg(tm) works calculated using the method
+    you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
+    to the owner of the Project Gutenberg(tm) trademark, but he has
+    agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
+    Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
+    within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
+    legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
+    payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
+    Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
+    Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
+    Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+  - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+    you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+    does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg(tm)
+    License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
+    copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
+    all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg(tm)
+    works.
+
+  - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
+    any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+    electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
+    receipt of the work.
+
+  - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+    distribution of Project Gutenberg(tm) works.
+
+
+*1.E.9.* If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
+Gutenberg(tm) electronic work or group of works on different terms than
+are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
+from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg(tm) trademark. Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3. below.
+
+*1.F.*
+
+*1.F.1.* Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg(tm) collection.
+Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works, and the
+medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but
+not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription
+errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a
+defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer
+codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
+
+*1.F.2.* LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg(tm) trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg(tm) electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees.
+YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY,
+BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN
+PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND
+ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR
+ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES
+EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.
+
+*1.F.3.* LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+*1.F.4.* Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+*1.F.5.* Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+*1.F.6.* INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg(tm)
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg(tm) work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg(tm)
+
+
+Project Gutenberg(tm) is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg(tm)'s
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg(tm) collection will remain
+freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and
+permanent future for Project Gutenberg(tm) and future generations. To
+learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and
+how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the
+Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org .
+
+
+Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state
+of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue
+Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is
+64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf . Contributions to the
+Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the
+full extent permitted by U.S.  federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr.
+S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809
+North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page
+at http://www.pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+
+    Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+    Chief Executive and Director
+    gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation
+
+
+Project Gutenberg(tm) depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where
+we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
+DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
+visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any
+statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside
+the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways
+including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate,
+please visit: http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic
+works.
+
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg(tm)
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg(tm) eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg(tm) eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. unless
+a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks
+in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's eBook
+number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
+compressed (zipped), HTML and others.
+
+Corrected _editions_ of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
+the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed.
+_Versions_ based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving
+new filenames and etext numbers.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+    http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg(tm),
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/42052.zip b/42052.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5b10b1a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/42052.zip