 | Lays of France |  |
Then a new wonder, like a thought
Strove with the death in her, and wrought
With inward accent promising
Half-sweet, an unimagined thing.
Strove with the death in her, and wrought
With inward accent promising
Half-sweet, an unimagined thing.
And at last from the bitter ground
She rose, and forward through the night
Her feet miraculously found
A constant guidance, and a might
To go and meet that future fate,
Which yet in such strange manner bound
Her soul to live indeed and wait.
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Her feet miraculously found
A constant guidance, and a might
To go and meet that future fate,
Which yet in such strange manner bound
Her soul to live indeed and wait.
If any saw her in her way,
Passing along the meadows gray
With deep unlifted shrouding still,
Surely they knew not; but beheld
Amazed and with a doubtful thrill:
And, by her shining robe that trailed
Through the dank night; and by the sheen
Of all her raiment, and hair seen
Wondrous, unsoiled, as though availed
No longer spell of day or night
On her; and by the rustlings light
That startled the deep earthly sleep
Along the meadows in her path;
—Surely she seemed to them some wraith
Walking the world on straight intent
Of unaccomplished doom, or sent
To work the purposes of God,
Whereof no man the knowledge hath.
Passing along the meadows gray
With deep unlifted shrouding still,
Surely they knew not; but beheld
Amazed and with a doubtful thrill:
And, by her shining robe that trailed
Through the dank night; and by the sheen
Of all her raiment, and hair seen
Wondrous, unsoiled, as though availed
No longer spell of day or night
On her; and by the rustlings light
That startled the deep earthly sleep
Along the meadows in her path;
—Surely she seemed to them some wraith
Walking the world on straight intent
Of unaccomplished doom, or sent
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Whereof no man the knowledge hath.
So was there none in all her way
To shame her steps; and ere the day
Betrayed, her feet returning trode
The marble floor of her own hall
And silent passage ancestral
Of that cold place where she abode.
To shame her steps; and ere the day
Betrayed, her feet returning trode
The marble floor of her own hall
And silent passage ancestral
Of that cold place where she abode.
She might not speak at all nor weep;
But such great mystery did cling
Upon her face, that seemed to keep
Knowledge of some most holy thing,
No man found ways to try her more
With base reproof or questioning.
But such great mystery did cling
Upon her face, that seemed to keep
Knowledge of some most holy thing,
No man found ways to try her more
With base reproof or questioning.
And lo, in due time, and before
Her grief of secret thought was done,
With many an inward holy thrill
And wondrous sign of grace begun
Already plain, God did fulfil
His miracle of love ere long;
So that she bore a goodly Son;
And lying showed each evil tongue
That spoke her barren of His grace.
Her grief of secret thought was done,
With many an inward holy thrill
And wondrous sign of grace begun
Already plain, God did fulfil
His miracle of love ere long;
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And lying showed each evil tongue
That spoke her barren of His grace.
Her child—he had a wondrous face,
In which was written many a dear
And lovely word with God's hand clear,
In lineament that she could trace
More and more through the smiling grace,
To many a noble thing foretold
Of help and blessedness to her:
So she would read, for days and days,
His holy smiling that consoled
Her heart, and bade her thoughts to err
Free in all sweet and hopeful ways:
In which was written many a dear
And lovely word with God's hand clear,
In lineament that she could trace
More and more through the smiling grace,
To many a noble thing foretold
Of help and blessedness to her:
So she would read, for days and days,
His holy smiling that consoled
Her heart, and bade her thoughts to err
Free in all sweet and hopeful ways:
And afterward there grew much praise
Of him, for he is named in lays
Yvenec, the Deliverer.
Of him, for he is named in lays
Yvenec, the Deliverer.
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