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diff --git a/42052-8.txt b/42052-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index aa5d18d..0000000 --- a/42052-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2925 +0,0 @@ - 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-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(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. 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