The Collected Works of William Morris :: :: University of Virginia Library

Such words the summer air swept past his ears,
Such words the lovesome maidens murmurèd,
With unabashed soft eyes made wet with tears,
As though for them the world were really dead,
As though indeed those tender words they said
Each to her love, and each her fingers moved,
As though she thought to meet the hands she loved.

But Bharam heeded not their lovesomeness,
As through his heart there shot one bitter thought
Of those dead mourners and their dead distress
That his own feet to such a land had brought,
But even ere the fear had come to nought,
The thought that made it, yea, all memory
Of what had been, had utterly passed by.

But when the song was done, and on the strand
The bark's prow grated, and the maidens twain
In low words bade him follow them aland,
Still, mid the certain hope of boundless gain,
About him clung the seeming-causeless pain
Of that past thought, that love had driven away,
The dreary teaching of a hopeless day.

And as unto the throne he drew anigh
He tried to say unto himself: “Alas!
Why am I full of such felicity?
How know I that for me the music was?
How know I yet what thing will come to pass?
How know I that my heart can bear the best,
Vain foolish heart that knew but little rest?”

190

A moment more and toward that golden ship
His face was turned, a hand was holding his;
His eyes with happy tears were wet, his lip
Still thrilled with memory of a loving kiss,
His eager ears drank in melodious bliss
Past words to tell of; joy was born at last,
Surely the bitterness of death was past.

How can I give her image unto you,
Clad in that raiment wonderful and fair?
What need? Be sure that love's eye pierceth through
What web soever hides the beauty there—
To tell her fairness? Measure forth the air,
And weigh the wind, and portion out the sun!
This still is left, less easy to be done.

Into the golden ship now passed the twain,
The maidens followed, and the soldiers moved
Their ordered ranks, the shoreward road to gain;
The minstrels played what tunes the best behoved,
While in the stern the lover and beloved
Had nought to do but each on each to gaze,
Without a thought of past or coming days.

Up stream the gold prow pointed, the long oars
Broke into curves of white the swirling green,
On each side opened out the changing shores;
So lovely there were all things to be seen,
That in the golden age they might have been;
But rather had he gaze upon those eyes
Than see the whole world freed from miseries.

Sometimes she said: “And this, O love, is thine,
As thou art mine. Look forth thy land to see!”
But he looked not, but rather would entwine
His fingers in her fingers amorously,
And answer: “Yea, and that one day shall be
When thou shalt go upon the blossoms sweet,
And I must look thereon to see thy feet!”

191

Now the stream narrowed, and the country girls
Thronged on the banks to see the Queen go by,
And cast fresh flowers upon the weedy swirls.
“Look forth! they sing to our felicity!”
The Queen said, “and the city draweth nigh.”
“Nay, nay,” said Bharam, “I will look on them
When they shall kneel to kiss thy garment's hem.”

Now far ahead, above dark banks of trees
Could they behold the city's high white wall,
And, as they neared it, on the summer breeze
Was borne the tumult of the festival;
And when that sound on Bharam's ears did fall,
He cried: “Ah, will they lengthen out the day,
E'en when kind night has drawn the sun away?”

She sighed and said: “Nay now, be glad, O King,
That thou art coming to thy very own;
Nor one day shalt thou think it a small thing
That thou therein mayst wear the royal crown
When somewhat weary thou at last art grown,
Through lapse of days, of this and this and this—
That something more is left thee than a kiss.”

He stared at her wide eyes as one who heard
Yet knew not what the words might signify,
Then said: “And think'st thou I shall be afeard
To slay myself before our love goes by,
That changed by death, if we indeed can die,
Unwearied by this anxious, earthy frame,
I still may think of thee, and know no shame?”

She gazed upon his flushed face tenderly,
Reddening herself for love, but said not aught,
Only her bosom heaved with one soft sigh,
And some unravelled maze of troublous thought
Unbidden tears unto her sweet eyes brought;
And he forgot that shade of bitterness
When such a look his yearning heart did bless.

192

Thereat the silver trumpet's tuneful blare
Made music strange unto his lovesome dream,
For now before them lay the city fair,
With high white bridges spanning the swift stream,
And bridge and shore with wealth of gold did gleam.
From a great multitude shout followed shout,
And high in air the sound of bells leapt out.

And then the shipmen furled the golden sail—
Slowly the red oars o'er the stream did skim,
As 'twixt the houses the light wind 'gan fail,
Till by a palace on the river's brim,
Whose towering height made half the bells grow dim,
The golden ship was stayed, for they had come
Unto the happy seeker's wondrous home.

“Look up and wonder, well-beloved,” she said,
As now they rose to go unto the shore,
“At what the men did for us who are dead,
And praise them for the depth of their past lore,
And thank them though their life is long past o'er.
If they had known that all these things should be,
How better had they wrought for thee and me?”

Gravely she looked into his eager eyes,
That turned unto the house a little while,
But took small heed of all the phantasies
Wherewith those men their trouble did beguile;
Though calmly did the vast front seem to smile
From all its breadth of beauty looking down
Upon the tumult of the joyous town.

Again she sighed, but passed on silently,
And o'er the golden gangway went the twain
Unto the gold shade of the doorway high,
Treading on golden cloths, betwixt a lane
Of girls who each had been a kingdom's bane
In toiling, troubled lands, where loveliness
In scanty measure longing men doth bless.

193

One moment, and the threshold Bharam passed,
And that desire his heart was set upon
Yet would not name, his heart hath won at last.
Ah, if the end of all thereby were won!
For though, indeed, the noontide sun hath shone,
And all the clouds are scattered, who can say
What clouds shall curse the latter end of day?