 | The white sail and other poems |  |
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THE SERPENT'S CROWN.
Said he: ‘O diligent rover! browned under many a heaven,
Treasure and trophy you carry, spoils from the east and the west;
Yet I fear that you passed it over, the chief clime out of the seven,
My wonder-land and my island, where the chance of a knight is best.
Treasure and trophy you carry, spoils from the east and the west;
Yet I fear that you passed it over, the chief clime out of the seven,
My wonder-land and my island, where the chance of a knight is best.
‘There from the black mid-forest, past hemlock guards in waiting
(Heard you not of the legend?), when the wide sun winks at noon,
On the rock-ways sharpest, hoarest, warily undulating,
A star-dappled serpent hurries, with the odorous grace of June.
(Heard you not of the legend?), when the wide sun winks at noon,
On the rock-ways sharpest, hoarest, warily undulating,
A star-dappled serpent hurries, with the odorous grace of June.
‘Over her human forehead, reared among glens abysmal,
Glitters a crown gold-gossamer; only a moment's arc
Crosses the creature torrid, flexile, palpitant, prismal,
Then breaks on the earth, a terror spiralling into the dark.
Glitters a crown gold-gossamer; only a moment's arc
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Then breaks on the earth, a terror spiralling into the dark.
‘Every to-day and to-morrow, as the foreign old belfries tremble
With the hammer-hard heels of noon, just that instant, nor more nor less,
In the blue witch-reptile's furrow her shape stands to dissemble,
And the barbed tongue tempts and entices, and the fire-eyes acquiesce.
With the hammer-hard heels of noon, just that instant, nor more nor less,
In the blue witch-reptile's furrow her shape stands to dissemble,
And the barbed tongue tempts and entices, and the fire-eyes acquiesce.
‘Once she was a wily woman, whose glory the gods have finished,
Whose handicraft still is ruin, whose glee is to snare and kill,
Defier of spearman and bowman, her empery undiminished;
But whoso can overcome her, shall bend the world to his will!
Whose handicraft still is ruin, whose glee is to snare and kill,
Defier of spearman and bowman, her empery undiminished;
But whoso can overcome her, shall bend the world to his will!
‘Therefore the knights importune to spur thro' the jungles fruity,
Many a lad and a hunter and a dreamer there ventureth;
For the king tends power and fortune to the slayer of that demon-beauty,
And awards him her crown thrice-charmèd whose captor can outwit Death,
Many a lad and a hunter and a dreamer there ventureth;
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And awards him her crown thrice-charmèd whose captor can outwit Death,
‘Aye, ride above storm and censure, and lord it o'er time and distance,
In the maddening-sweet assurance of bliss like a rose-rain shed,
All for a wood-path venture, a gallant alert resistance,
And a stroke of the steel in circle about that exquisite head!
In the maddening-sweet assurance of bliss like a rose-rain shed,
All for a wood-path venture, a gallant alert resistance,
And a stroke of the steel in circle about that exquisite head!
‘A task for your young drilled muscle!’ But the other, in soft derision
Answered him: ‘Oh, I had once some wild schemes under my hat:
Some thrill for this same snake-tussle, and the heirdom of life Elysian,
Long peace, long loving, long praises: but I've kindled and cooled on that!
Answered him: ‘Oh, I had once some wild schemes under my hat:
Some thrill for this same snake-tussle, and the heirdom of life Elysian,
Long peace, long loving, long praises: but I've kindled and cooled on that!
‘Ten years have I been a ranger, I have hewn all dread to the centre;
I have learned to sift out values; my soul is at rest and free.
If that be your boon for danger, on a dull safe youth to enter,
Tho' some may covet the guerdon, 'tis a poor enough thing to me.
I have learned to sift out values; my soul is at rest and free.
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Tho' some may covet the guerdon, 'tis a poor enough thing to me.
‘I choose, might I come and return so, to a cause, a friend and a foeman
Staunch, to endure for the rest but as a moth, or a marigold!
Let the philosophers yearn so, the king bribe squire and yeoman!
Not for my lease immortal the serpent shall be cajoled.
Staunch, to endure for the rest but as a moth, or a marigold!
Let the philosophers yearn so, the king bribe squire and yeoman!
Not for my lease immortal the serpent shall be cajoled.
‘To strike her down avenges her slain; but is evil ended?
The fashion dies; the function abides, and has fresher scope.
What is to be won? He cringes who would seize, were the choice extended,
For the risk elsewhere of living, here only survival's hope!
The fashion dies; the function abides, and has fresher scope.
What is to be won? He cringes who would seize, were the choice extended,
For the risk elsewhere of living, here only survival's hope!
‘I would keep my lot mine purely, cast in with men's forever;
Their transient tempest sooner than these Sybaritic calms;
Tho' against the cobra, surely, I would pit my soul's endeavor,
Her crown and its lonely meaning I would scorn to take in alms.
Their transient tempest sooner than these Sybaritic calms;
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Her crown and its lonely meaning I would scorn to take in alms.
‘Rather than ease unshaken, durance that sloth unhallows,
Once and for all, in honor, an end: what 's the forfeit crown
If the chance of my short term taken run plump on the axe or the gallows,
So one brother's fetter be loosened, or one tyrant trampled down?
Once and for all, in honor, an end: what 's the forfeit crown
If the chance of my short term taken run plump on the axe or the gallows,
So one brother's fetter be loosened, or one tyrant trampled down?
‘Why, see! this diadem's pleasure a Turk might sigh to inherit,—
Heart-beats thrumming; a torpid and solitary cheer;
No call to arms, no measure of progress! Well, let him wear it
Unquestioned ... I spurned the bauble when I killed your snake last year.’
Heart-beats thrumming; a torpid and solitary cheer;
No call to arms, no measure of progress! Well, let him wear it
Unquestioned ... I spurned the bauble when I killed your snake last year.’
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