 | Songs of Doubt and Dream (Poems) |  |
275
ENNUI.
Amid luxurious ease and splendid state
She languished, bitterly disconsolate;
She felt the massive grandeur of the crown
Weigh all her tired young spirit sternly down
Beneath its ponderous and enfeebling weight.
She languished, bitterly disconsolate;
She felt the massive grandeur of the crown
Weigh all her tired young spirit sternly down
Beneath its ponderous and enfeebling weight.
She loathed her pageantries in hall or street;
Her vassal throngs; her coach's gilded seat;
Her statesmen and proud warriors when they came,
Allegiantly forgetful of their fame.
Kneeling in duteous fealty at her feet.
Her vassal throngs; her coach's gilded seat;
Her statesmen and proud warriors when they came,
Allegiantly forgetful of their fame.
Kneeling in duteous fealty at her feet.
The wandering story-tellers, they that had
So subtle a skill to make despondence glad;
The grave court-leeches that with looks of gloom
Held converse in her silent ante-room;
The tinkling hunchback jester, gaudy-clad;
So subtle a skill to make despondence glad;
The grave court-leeches that with looks of gloom
Held converse in her silent ante-room;
The tinkling hunchback jester, gaudy-clad;
Her woods, in whose green wilds the boar was chased;
Her porphyry fountains, with rare sculptures graced;
Her palace towers that nobly dared the day,
With dizzy crests where broidered flags hung gay;
Her lofty terraces where the peacocks paced;
Her porphyry fountains, with rare sculptures graced;
Her palace towers that nobly dared the day,
With dizzy crests where broidered flags hung gay;
Her lofty terraces where the peacocks paced;
Or yet through shadowy grove and ferny glade,
With lords and ladies in rich pomp arrayed,
With tasselled steeds and falcons fluttering white,
Banners and plumes and poursuivants in sight,
The passing of her radiant cavalcade!
With lords and ladies in rich pomp arrayed,
276
Banners and plumes and poursuivants in sight,
The passing of her radiant cavalcade!
She loathed them all with strength she could not speak,
And in her carven chair, week after week,
Low she would bow her head and dumbly brood,
While from the prisoning velvet of her snood
The long blond braid fell out on her pale cheek.
And in her carven chair, week after week,
Low she would bow her head and dumbly brood,
While from the prisoning velvet of her snood
The long blond braid fell out on her pale cheek.
And once, 'tis said, a minstrel, known for art
To appease with song the melancholy heart,
Craved gracious audience of this drooping queen.
'Twas given; but when he came with humble mien,
Moved by strange whim, she bade her dames depart.
To appease with song the melancholy heart,
Craved gracious audience of this drooping queen.
'Twas given; but when he came with humble mien,
Moved by strange whim, she bade her dames depart.
And now the minstrel swept his harp to sing
Melodious eulogy, so mild of ring
It wavered heavenward in the same sweet wise
As those gray odorous vapors when they rise
From silvery censers that the priesthood swing.
Melodious eulogy, so mild of ring
It wavered heavenward in the same sweet wise
As those gray odorous vapors when they rise
From silvery censers that the priesthood swing.
But here his listener cries, with brows that lower:
“Tell me no more of my own worth and power!
I weary to the bone of flattery's lies!
Speak out some rank truth, naked of disguise!
Mock me—insult me!—or you die this hour!”
“Tell me no more of my own worth and power!
I weary to the bone of flattery's lies!
Speak out some rank truth, naked of disguise!
Mock me—insult me!—or you die this hour!”
| Songs of Doubt and Dream (Poems) | |