 | Tristan de Léonois |  |
79
PROLOGUE
Outside the apse of an old chapel, at either end, is a tomb, one of chalcedony and one of beryl.
From the beryl tomb a rose-tree has broken forth: it makes an arch of red blossoms across the apse and plunges its strong shoots into the tomb of chalcedony.
Under the arch Amor is standing with reversed torch, and in his other hand a goblet, hung with seaweeds and tarnished.
Amor.
Up from the sea-depths I have brought
This my cup in which was wrought
My spell long years afar—
Years that now are,
O Underground, thy own,
And lie beneath thy throne.
This my cup in which was wrought
My spell long years afar—
Years that now are,
O Underground, thy own,
And lie beneath thy throne.
Venus came forth from out the sea,
Darkness and immensity:
Down thither have I dived,
From the gulf rived
This goblet hung with seeds,
The soundless sea-wrack breeds.
Darkness and immensity:
Down thither have I dived,
From the gulf rived
This goblet hung with seeds,
The soundless sea-wrack breeds.
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And I have brought it to thee, Death,
Up from the deep where Love's breath
First had desire and rose:
O thou, deep Close
Of Love's mortality,
A gift of love—to thee!
Up from the deep where Love's breath
First had desire and rose:
O thou, deep Close
Of Love's mortality,
A gift of love—to thee!
Lo, this encrusted thing I hold
Is full of wine, new and bold
As these red roses' tide,
That spreads them wide!
On thy old tombs I pour
From out my relic hoar.
Is full of wine, new and bold
As these red roses' tide,
That spreads them wide!
On thy old tombs I pour
From out my relic hoar.
[He makes libation on the tomb of beryl and the tomb of chalcedony. Then he lifts his torch.
There is no rose in the world like the rose-tree of Tintagel,
The rose that leapt and fell
From a lover's tomb;
Its thorn and leaves and bloom
Dreaming a goal and stirred
To flight as an autumn bird,
With a track to learn,
With a space to burn,
And the air to travel,
Till in her bed of gloom
The loved is straightly caught from the tomb,
Wherever the plunging rose finds room.
This rose will not fail of his goal;
He has power
To push through the tower
Where the bells toll:
This rose is swept along by the power
Of his fragrance as by a soul.
The rose that leapt and fell
From a lover's tomb;
Its thorn and leaves and bloom
Dreaming a goal and stirred
To flight as an autumn bird,
With a track to learn,
With a space to burn,
And the air to travel,
Till in her bed of gloom
The loved is straightly caught from the tomb,
Wherever the plunging rose finds room.
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He has power
To push through the tower
Where the bells toll:
This rose is swept along by the power
Of his fragrance as by a soul.
| Tristan de Léonois | |