 | The soul's legend |  |
III. Part III.
Yet once again I looked upon this woman, in a time that is yet to come.
It was given unto me to see her, because I had loved her well.
I saw her in a time when it grew towards evening, and the light lay low upon the hills,
In a valley which was wide and desert, beside a river unfed by any stream.
Unfed was that river, but ever feeding; it brought with it the wealth it caused.
For though its banks were even like the emerald, beyond them strotched the desert sands.
But close by the side of the woman sprang up an ever-springing well,
Over-arched by a lofty palm-tree, and bordered by the flowering rush;
And a slender rill flowed from it, whereat a wolf lapped even as he ran.
A lion lay couchant near, beside him were three small white loaves.
And I saw that a time had passed over the woman, a time and a wondrous change;
For she was brown and furrowed as the desert round her, and her attire was poor and mean;
Gray hairs were upon her, but she regarded them not, for by her side walked one who was young,
And his apparel was soft and delicate, such as is worn by the dwellers in the houses of kings.
Yet she was in his eyes as one who found favour; he had said unto her, “Thou art all fair.”
She spoke unto him in many words, but it was only given to me to hear a few:
“Culpa mea, mea maxima culpa, maxissima culpa mea.”
Often had these words been spoken in her ear, in many a secret and solitary place;
But now that she had taken them upon her lips, they were sweeter to him than her sweetest song;
More costly than had been her bitterest tear; more precious than the life-blood she had given for him of old.
And he whom she had ever loved heard her. He spake unto her good and comfortable words.
She went up from the wilderness leaning on her beloved; and I knew that they would part no more.
| The soul's legend | |