 | Collected poems of Edwin Arlington Robinson |  |
III
King Jasper lay for lonely hours awake
That night, turning himself incessantly,
As kings will when their crowns are troubling them.
For well he knew, and latterly too well,
That age, as it came on, was giving him eyes
To see more surely the dark way behind him
That he had climbed, with opportunity
And enterprise to drive him, and to mock him
Whenever he looked back. If they had been
Two giants lashing him to his attainment
Of high desire that was a fever in him,
They would have been for that no mightier drivers
Than their two voices were. So the king told
His listening doubts until it was all true;
And his doubts told the darkness and the hours,
Who had no mercy, or may not have heard,
Until a clock struck five. There was no hope
Of sleep deceiving him; for there was more
Tonight than those diminishing small voices
Of opportunity and enterprise
To trouble him. There was a new voice now
That had a warning in it, and a laughter,
Which might be carelessness, or might be scorn,
Or both—or might be triumph, holding him
As a cat holds a bird. There in the dark
It might be death. He heard it, and he felt it;
And still remembered a clock striking five.
With sleep no longer even a theme of hope
To save him as a doom-defying refuge,
He counted those lost hours until he saw them
Like dead friends he had slain; and then he slept.
That night, turning himself incessantly,
As kings will when their crowns are troubling them.
For well he knew, and latterly too well,
That age, as it came on, was giving him eyes
To see more surely the dark way behind him
That he had climbed, with opportunity
And enterprise to drive him, and to mock him
Whenever he looked back. If they had been
Two giants lashing him to his attainment
Of high desire that was a fever in him,
They would have been for that no mightier drivers
Than their two voices were. So the king told
His listening doubts until it was all true;
And his doubts told the darkness and the hours,
Who had no mercy, or may not have heard,
Until a clock struck five. There was no hope
Of sleep deceiving him; for there was more
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Of opportunity and enterprise
To trouble him. There was a new voice now
That had a warning in it, and a laughter,
Which might be carelessness, or might be scorn,
Or both—or might be triumph, holding him
As a cat holds a bird. There in the dark
It might be death. He heard it, and he felt it;
And still remembered a clock striking five.
With sleep no longer even a theme of hope
To save him as a doom-defying refuge,
He counted those lost hours until he saw them
Like dead friends he had slain; and then he slept.
Not even a king may say what he shall dream,
Or what his dream shall tell. And so it was
For Jasper there asleep. His years behind him
Were like a desert now, and were before him—
A fearsome endlessness of rocks and hills
That he must climb, and climb, and climb for ever.
Here there was no beginning, and no end;
And here there was no life. Nothing alive,
He knew, could stay and live in such a place;
And it was then he knew that he was dead.
Not even a lizard or a leaf could live
Where no life was; and here not even the dead
Would stay. He was alone, and he was lost.
There was to be no friend or guide or servant
For one who in his life had climbed so high
That he had been a king. No suffering shade
With sins innumerable to expiate,
And fouler far than Jasper's, would have earned
So lonely and laborious a damnation
As this that had no end. No vicious God
Conceivable to mortal fears or throes
Could have found joy in this enormity
Of a king toiling endlessly along,
Alone and aching, and to no arrival
Or last release. Yet so it was all written,
And in a language ineradicable,
For Jasper's anguish, though he read nowhere,
And heard nowhere, the sentence that he knew
So fearfully was his.
Or what his dream shall tell. And so it was
For Jasper there asleep. His years behind him
Were like a desert now, and were before him—
A fearsome endlessness of rocks and hills
That he must climb, and climb, and climb for ever.
Here there was no beginning, and no end;
And here there was no life. Nothing alive,
He knew, could stay and live in such a place;
And it was then he knew that he was dead.
Not even a lizard or a leaf could live
Where no life was; and here not even the dead
Would stay. He was alone, and he was lost.
There was to be no friend or guide or servant
For one who in his life had climbed so high
That he had been a king. No suffering shade
With sins innumerable to expiate,
And fouler far than Jasper's, would have earned
So lonely and laborious a damnation
As this that had no end. No vicious God
Conceivable to mortal fears or throes
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Of a king toiling endlessly along,
Alone and aching, and to no arrival
Or last release. Yet so it was all written,
And in a language ineradicable,
For Jasper's anguish, though he read nowhere,
And heard nowhere, the sentence that he knew
So fearfully was his.
So the king toiled
Along, alone and aching, and forbidden,
By some command that was immovable
And unrevealed, to rest or even to pause.
If high rocks had no level way around them,
He must climb up, and up, and at the top
See more of them ahead, and more and more,
As far as there was distance. On and up,
And down again, and up again he labored,
His one companion a perfidious hope
That after time from some eventual summit
Hope might appear revealed, though far before him,
As more than a false torture that so long
Had whipped and failed him. No, there was nothing there;
There was no hope. He groaned again for gazing
Too far ahead of him, and for too long.
And then a joy that of a sudden smote him,
Until it was a fear, so blinded him
With fear and joy at once that had he then
Been given the power and will, he would have fallen,
And on his quaking knees would have cried out,
“For God's love, do not vanish! Whatever you are,
Wait—if you only wait for me to kill me.
If you may kill the dead, you will do well.
But wait, and stay for me—if you are there!”
He could not say the words, but now he felt
At last the sound of hope like deafening bells
Within him while he gazed and wept and strove
To make his feet go faster. Where he looked,
There was a growing speck that presently
Became a shape that had the form of man;
And now it had two arms that waved a welcome.
Along, alone and aching, and forbidden,
By some command that was immovable
And unrevealed, to rest or even to pause.
If high rocks had no level way around them,
He must climb up, and up, and at the top
See more of them ahead, and more and more,
As far as there was distance. On and up,
And down again, and up again he labored,
His one companion a perfidious hope
That after time from some eventual summit
Hope might appear revealed, though far before him,
As more than a false torture that so long
Had whipped and failed him. No, there was nothing there;
There was no hope. He groaned again for gazing
Too far ahead of him, and for too long.
And then a joy that of a sudden smote him,
Until it was a fear, so blinded him
With fear and joy at once that had he then
Been given the power and will, he would have fallen,
And on his quaking knees would have cried out,
“For God's love, do not vanish! Whatever you are,
Wait—if you only wait for me to kill me.
If you may kill the dead, you will do well.
But wait, and stay for me—if you are there!”
He could not say the words, but now he felt
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Within him while he gazed and wept and strove
To make his feet go faster. Where he looked,
There was a growing speck that presently
Became a shape that had the form of man;
And now it had two arms that waved a welcome.
Once more the king would shout, but had no force
To sound the joy that filled him. He could only
Half lift his heavy arms, and in such wise
Make as he might a sign that would say little
Of a divine delirium, past belief
Or record, that suffused and stupefied
Credulity that might still be illusion,
Leaving him lonelier than he was before.
To sound the joy that filled him. He could only
Half lift his heavy arms, and in such wise
Make as he might a sign that would say little
Of a divine delirium, past belief
Or record, that suffused and stupefied
Credulity that might still be illusion,
Leaving him lonelier than he was before.
As a forestalling of malicious truth
Too terrible to be met with confirmation
Of more than blasting loss, he shut his eyes
For the few steps that he could make without them;
And sick with hope, and with a cruel fear
Of seeing, he dared slowly to open them.
He raised them, and with joy that was by now
A sort of madness in him, he strove on,
Until a gaunt frail shape that was a man
Whom he remembered hailed him with a voice
Of welcome that was like an accusation,
Or like affection with a venom in it.
King Jasper, listening, looked at him and shivered,
As if a snake had smiled.
Too terrible to be met with confirmation
Of more than blasting loss, he shut his eyes
For the few steps that he could make without them;
And sick with hope, and with a cruel fear
Of seeing, he dared slowly to open them.
He raised them, and with joy that was by now
A sort of madness in him, he strove on,
Until a gaunt frail shape that was a man
Whom he remembered hailed him with a voice
Of welcome that was like an accusation,
Or like affection with a venom in it.
King Jasper, listening, looked at him and shivered,
As if a snake had smiled.
“I saw you coming,
And here we are,” said Hebron. In his voice
There was a poison of calm enmity
That was not there when Hebron was alive;
And on his face there was a crafty scorn
That was no part of Hebron. Death had changed him.
Or was it a king's fear that wrought the change
In one the king had crushed and left infirm,
To starve on lies and perish? Jasper quailed
As no king should; and while those eyes were on him,
He was a king no longer.
And here we are,” said Hebron. In his voice
There was a poison of calm enmity
That was not there when Hebron was alive;
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That was no part of Hebron. Death had changed him.
Or was it a king's fear that wrought the change
In one the king had crushed and left infirm,
To starve on lies and perish? Jasper quailed
As no king should; and while those eyes were on him,
He was a king no longer.
“It's a grief
Beyond a name,” said Hebron, “that we two
May not sit here together and rest ourselves,
And talk of old years that are drowned in time,
Till your poor feet might cease to swell and ache
And your poor legs have comfort. But as long
As you are doomed to climb, I'll follow you
And talk. You must be tired of going alone
Over these rocks that are so much like mountains;
And I was always one of those who drew
Refreshment, like sweet water from a spring,
From unrestrained and easy conversation.
Jasper, there was a time, and many a time,
When you and I had more to tell each other
Than a long night would hold; and I remember—
Yes, Jasper, more than once—dawn coming in
To find you still alert, assuring me
Of peace renewed, and health, and independence,
And God knows what incalculable gold—
All to reward my genius, and repay
The price of those diseased and foodless years
That were to cost my life. Don't suffer, Jasper,
Or seem to be distressed on my account;
For I can climb as well as you, and listen
As well as I may talk. And if my feet
Should fail, you would not leave me here alone.
Jasper, your heart would be a fiery coal
Within you, should you leave me twice behind you,
And let me die. I have died once for you,
And that should be enough. If it is not,
You hate yourself more than you hated me
When you had finished me and seen me safe,
As you believed, and buried. Never believe,
Jasper, that when you bury us we are safe;
For more than sometimes it is only then
That we are truly known as things alive—
Things to be feared and felt, with unseen hands
That reach for you and touch you in the dark.
You do not love us then.”
Beyond a name,” said Hebron, “that we two
May not sit here together and rest ourselves,
And talk of old years that are drowned in time,
Till your poor feet might cease to swell and ache
And your poor legs have comfort. But as long
As you are doomed to climb, I'll follow you
And talk. You must be tired of going alone
Over these rocks that are so much like mountains;
And I was always one of those who drew
Refreshment, like sweet water from a spring,
From unrestrained and easy conversation.
Jasper, there was a time, and many a time,
When you and I had more to tell each other
Than a long night would hold; and I remember—
Yes, Jasper, more than once—dawn coming in
To find you still alert, assuring me
Of peace renewed, and health, and independence,
And God knows what incalculable gold—
All to reward my genius, and repay
The price of those diseased and foodless years
That were to cost my life. Don't suffer, Jasper,
Or seem to be distressed on my account;
For I can climb as well as you, and listen
As well as I may talk. And if my feet
Should fail, you would not leave me here alone.
Jasper, your heart would be a fiery coal
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And let me die. I have died once for you,
And that should be enough. If it is not,
You hate yourself more than you hated me
When you had finished me and seen me safe,
As you believed, and buried. Never believe,
Jasper, that when you bury us we are safe;
For more than sometimes it is only then
That we are truly known as things alive—
Things to be feared and felt, with unseen hands
That reach for you and touch you in the dark.
You do not love us then.”
“Hebron, I swear,”
The king began, not with a royal voice,
And then began again: “Hebron, I swear
That I have never hated you alive,
Or dead. I may have been afraid of you,
But that was not from greed—”
The king began, not with a royal voice,
And then began again: “Hebron, I swear
That I have never hated you alive,
Or dead. I may have been afraid of you,
But that was not from greed—”
“May the fiends have him
Who tells me it was that! Who says it was?”
Asked Hebron; and his question sent with it
A laugh that was for Jasper like a blow.
“Your words are faster than your feet, old friend,
And have a surer sense of destiny.
O king, beware of words. When they are said,
They are like minutes that have ticked and gone,
And are still ticking. Men have died hearing them.
And I've a son somewhere who may be heard.
He never loved you, Jasper, for he knew you—
Long before I did. You were afraid of him,
Far down inside you, without knowing why.
I never knew him. He was a dark child.”
King Jasper, groaning while he climbed, said, “Hebron,
It was for power that I neglected you—
So selfishly. It was for power, not gold.
Between the two there was, could you have seen it,
The difference there has always been between
Daylight and lightning. You could not have known
My demon of ambition; for in you,
Hebron, he never dwelt.”
Who tells me it was that! Who says it was?”
Asked Hebron; and his question sent with it
A laugh that was for Jasper like a blow.
“Your words are faster than your feet, old friend,
And have a surer sense of destiny.
O king, beware of words. When they are said,
They are like minutes that have ticked and gone,
And are still ticking. Men have died hearing them.
And I've a son somewhere who may be heard.
He never loved you, Jasper, for he knew you—
Long before I did. You were afraid of him,
Far down inside you, without knowing why.
I never knew him. He was a dark child.”
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It was for power that I neglected you—
So selfishly. It was for power, not gold.
Between the two there was, could you have seen it,
The difference there has always been between
Daylight and lightning. You could not have known
My demon of ambition; for in you,
Hebron, he never dwelt.”
“I hear you, Jasper;
And I still follow you, albeit my feet
Are now less lightsome than I said they were.
I'll tell you something, Jasper. First of all,
You are a liar. You have always been one;
Wherefore, by logic and chronology,
You must have been a liar when you were born,
And probably before. I can forgive,
With my accretions of new comprehension,
Jasper, all such incriminating trifles;
And as for that, or leastwise in a measure,
I forgive everything. I'm only showing
To you the picture you have never cherished
Of you and me together before I died.
By then, old comrade, we were far along—
Or you were, Jasper—yet you never said so.
You never made me see, or let me guess
What you were doing with what I had done.
Did you know what it was that you were doing
While you enlarged your dream, and swelled and changed,
Till you were more a monster than a man?
When I was gone, men said you were a king;
But you were more. You were almost a kingdom;
And you forgot that kingdoms are not men.
They are composite and obscure creations
Of men, and in a manner are comparable
To moving and unmanageable machines,
And somehow are infernally animated
With a self-interest so omnivorous
That ultimately they must eat themselves.
You cannot eat yourself very long and live,
Jasper; and that's about what you were doing
Before I found you here. There's not much left,
And the prince knows it. He's not alarmed;
For he has Zoë, and seeks no other crown.
Jasper, could you go possibly more slowly?
I'm faint with a fatigue, or a prostration,
That will no longer let me follow you;
And I was never strong.”
And I still follow you, albeit my feet
Are now less lightsome than I said they were.
I'll tell you something, Jasper. First of all,
You are a liar. You have always been one;
Wherefore, by logic and chronology,
You must have been a liar when you were born,
And probably before. I can forgive,
With my accretions of new comprehension,
Jasper, all such incriminating trifles;
And as for that, or leastwise in a measure,
I forgive everything. I'm only showing
To you the picture you have never cherished
Of you and me together before I died.
By then, old comrade, we were far along—
Or you were, Jasper—yet you never said so.
You never made me see, or let me guess
What you were doing with what I had done.
Did you know what it was that you were doing
While you enlarged your dream, and swelled and changed,
Till you were more a monster than a man?
When I was gone, men said you were a king;
But you were more. You were almost a kingdom;
And you forgot that kingdoms are not men.
They are composite and obscure creations
Of men, and in a manner are comparable
1426
And somehow are infernally animated
With a self-interest so omnivorous
That ultimately they must eat themselves.
You cannot eat yourself very long and live,
Jasper; and that's about what you were doing
Before I found you here. There's not much left,
And the prince knows it. He's not alarmed;
For he has Zoë, and seeks no other crown.
Jasper, could you go possibly more slowly?
I'm faint with a fatigue, or a prostration,
That will no longer let me follow you;
And I was never strong.”
“God help us, Hebron!
If I might rest, I should be glad to sleep
On these eternal rocks and rise no more,
Nor wake again. I'm like your mechanism,
Driven by some command that is not mine
To mount, with hardly strength in me to move,
One height and then another.”
If I might rest, I should be glad to sleep
On these eternal rocks and rise no more,
Nor wake again. I'm like your mechanism,
Driven by some command that is not mine
To mount, with hardly strength in me to move,
One height and then another.”
“That's a pity,”
Said Hebron, with a humor not amusing,
“And a sad hindrance I had not foreseen;
Yet for the sake of old associations,
And for some gratitude that's in arrears,
Necessity, too frequently a tyrant,
Forbids me, Jasper, to climb unassisted
This huge and hard upheaval here before us
Of cruel granite. Hell must have quaked here, Jasper;
For there was never on earth a desolation
Like this, or one so foreign or forlorn.
We might be on the moon. Make ready, Jasper,
For I can limp no farther. I'll spring up
As lightly as a bird, and on your shoulders
I'll ride so comfortably and quietly
That you'll say I'm a squirrel. I was never
A man of weight, for I was always lean.
You made me so; and with a private zeal
That I was not to share, you kept me so—
Until I died. Be thankful now for that,
And praise your fate that I'm not corpulent;
For that would be the devil.”
Said Hebron, with a humor not amusing,
“And a sad hindrance I had not foreseen;
Yet for the sake of old associations,
And for some gratitude that's in arrears,
Necessity, too frequently a tyrant,
Forbids me, Jasper, to climb unassisted
This huge and hard upheaval here before us
Of cruel granite. Hell must have quaked here, Jasper;
For there was never on earth a desolation
Like this, or one so foreign or forlorn.
We might be on the moon. Make ready, Jasper,
For I can limp no farther. I'll spring up
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I'll ride so comfortably and quietly
That you'll say I'm a squirrel. I was never
A man of weight, for I was always lean.
You made me so; and with a private zeal
That I was not to share, you kept me so—
Until I died. Be thankful now for that,
And praise your fate that I'm not corpulent;
For that would be the devil.”
“For God's mercy,
Hebron, if there's a place in you for mercy,
Take your damned weight away!” King Jasper reeled
And swayed and staggered, praying that he might fall;
But soon he knew, more cruelly than before,
That he was not to fall. He must go on,
Upholding as he went, and with endurance
More terrible to confess than death would be
To greet and recognize, the crushing load
Of malice that he carried.
Hebron, if there's a place in you for mercy,
Take your damned weight away!” King Jasper reeled
And swayed and staggered, praying that he might fall;
But soon he knew, more cruelly than before,
That he was not to fall. He must go on,
Upholding as he went, and with endurance
More terrible to confess than death would be
To greet and recognize, the crushing load
Of malice that he carried.
“No, no, Jasper;
You are not saying that. You have been here
So long, and you have gone so long alone
Over these rocks, that your tongue, too long quiet,
Says the first word that moves it. It's your tongue,
Jasper, not you, that holds no gratitude
For this convenient privilege, long denied,
Of lifting your old friend from where you left him,
Ditched and half way to death, and helping him
Over these difficult hills. It's your turn, Jasper.
Did you suppose you would have all for nothing?
With Hebron in his grave for lack of gold
That was already gleaming, and was his
To share, did you believe that he would stay there?
Say no, or nothing. If you tell more lies,
Jasper, to me, I'll tickle you under the chin
With my rough heels, and urge you to go faster.”
You are not saying that. You have been here
So long, and you have gone so long alone
Over these rocks, that your tongue, too long quiet,
Says the first word that moves it. It's your tongue,
Jasper, not you, that holds no gratitude
For this convenient privilege, long denied,
Of lifting your old friend from where you left him,
Ditched and half way to death, and helping him
Over these difficult hills. It's your turn, Jasper.
Did you suppose you would have all for nothing?
With Hebron in his grave for lack of gold
That was already gleaming, and was his
To share, did you believe that he would stay there?
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Jasper, to me, I'll tickle you under the chin
With my rough heels, and urge you to go faster.”
Sick with a torture and a weight of pain
Beyond the grasp of fancy, Jasper staggered
And stumbled while he climbed with aching feet
Those endless hills, up one and down another,
And always, with a mute and anguished prayer
That he might fall and die. But while he slipped
And swayed and reeled, half blinded and half mad,
With Hebron's weight a clinging misery
Never to cease, never to be thrown off,
He knew as well as he knew Hebron's voice
The quality and the source of his endurance,
And that he must climb on, and on always,
Over those hills and those eternal rocks.
So Jasper, like a demon-driven beast,
Under a yoke too heavy to be borne,
Suffered and answered nothing; for in silence,
Even while he strove and ached, there was a respite
That was a sort of rest, but not for long.
Beyond the grasp of fancy, Jasper staggered
And stumbled while he climbed with aching feet
Those endless hills, up one and down another,
And always, with a mute and anguished prayer
That he might fall and die. But while he slipped
And swayed and reeled, half blinded and half mad,
With Hebron's weight a clinging misery
Never to cease, never to be thrown off,
He knew as well as he knew Hebron's voice
The quality and the source of his endurance,
And that he must climb on, and on always,
Over those hills and those eternal rocks.
So Jasper, like a demon-driven beast,
Under a yoke too heavy to be borne,
Suffered and answered nothing; for in silence,
Even while he strove and ached, there was a respite
That was a sort of rest, but not for long.
“Jasper, I fear that you forget your friend,
And with your friend your manners. I remember
When words came out of you so copiously
That my two ears were not enough to hold them.
Had the Lord given me three, I might have heard
Some that were never said—the most important,
As I learned when too little was left of me
For use or care. You reckoned well your time,
And mine. You knew then that your need of me
Was done; and that another sick year or two
For me would not be long for you to wait.
There was no more of me that you required
For your development and ascendency
Than my accommodating disappearance.
To kill me outright would have been imprudent
And hazardous, and was not compulsory.
Your lies assured me there was nothing then
Forthcoming or in view for either of us;
And so I died for lack of means to live,
And you became a king. For there was brain
Under my skull, richer than yours. You knew it,
Jasper; and you sustained it on your promise,
And on your lies, till all of it was yours
That you might use. That was unfriendly, Jasper;
And there's a waiting debt of explanation
That clamors to be paid. Come now, the truth.
I know the truth, but I shall know it better
When you distress yourself enough to tell it.
I know it will be hard—as hard for you
As you made death for me. Have you forgotten?
You groan as if you carried on your shoulders
More than one trivial man's ill-nourished weight;
And I've a fear you do. You stumble, Jasper,
Like one who has had wine.”
And with your friend your manners. I remember
When words came out of you so copiously
That my two ears were not enough to hold them.
Had the Lord given me three, I might have heard
Some that were never said—the most important,
As I learned when too little was left of me
For use or care. You reckoned well your time,
And mine. You knew then that your need of me
Was done; and that another sick year or two
For me would not be long for you to wait.
There was no more of me that you required
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Than my accommodating disappearance.
To kill me outright would have been imprudent
And hazardous, and was not compulsory.
Your lies assured me there was nothing then
Forthcoming or in view for either of us;
And so I died for lack of means to live,
And you became a king. For there was brain
Under my skull, richer than yours. You knew it,
Jasper; and you sustained it on your promise,
And on your lies, till all of it was yours
That you might use. That was unfriendly, Jasper;
And there's a waiting debt of explanation
That clamors to be paid. Come now, the truth.
I know the truth, but I shall know it better
When you distress yourself enough to tell it.
I know it will be hard—as hard for you
As you made death for me. Have you forgotten?
You groan as if you carried on your shoulders
More than one trivial man's ill-nourished weight;
And I've a fear you do. You stumble, Jasper,
Like one who has had wine.”
“Hebron, have mercy!
Leave me, and let me see no more of you.
Was I not paying in full before you found me?
Leave me, and let me die. I lied because
Your way was never mine. If you had lived,
Your freaks of caution, and your hesitations,
And your uncertainties—if once you saw
Before you what was only yours to take,
And hold, and say was yours—would have been clogs
And obstacles that would have maddened me,
And might have tempted me to worse than lies.
I told you lies that were akin to truth;
And I believed there was for you a glory
In your accomplishment that neither power
Nor gold would buy. And I believe it still.”
Leave me, and let me see no more of you.
Was I not paying in full before you found me?
Leave me, and let me die. I lied because
Your way was never mine. If you had lived,
Your freaks of caution, and your hesitations,
And your uncertainties—if once you saw
Before you what was only yours to take,
And hold, and say was yours—would have been clogs
And obstacles that would have maddened me,
And might have tempted me to worse than lies.
I told you lies that were akin to truth;
1430
In your accomplishment that neither power
Nor gold would buy. And I believe it still.”
“n=Jasper, if there's in you another jewel
Of balderdash as precious and as rare
As that one was, save it and treasure it
Against an imminent hour of last despair.
From now to then, I think we might go faster.”
Of balderdash as precious and as rare
As that one was, save it and treasure it
Against an imminent hour of last despair.
From now to then, I think we might go faster.”
“Hebron, if anything left of you is human,
Will it not hear me, and at last have mercy?
Now that you have the truth you knew before,
What else are you to torture out of me?
Tell me the name of it when you have found it,
And then it will be yours. You know the truth,
You would have been between me and my fate,
Which made of me a king.”
Will it not hear me, and at last have mercy?
Now that you have the truth you knew before,
What else are you to torture out of me?
Tell me the name of it when you have found it,
And then it will be yours. You know the truth,
You would have been between me and my fate,
Which made of me a king.”
“A king of what,
Your majesty,” asked Hebron, “are you now?
If you're a king, long live the king, say I;
And let me ride as a contented subject
On the king's back. I'm not uncomfortable;
And if I'm heavier than I was at first,
Do you guess why? It is because I'm changing,
Jasper. Yes, I am changing into gold.
I am the gold that you said would be mine—
Before you stole it, and became a king.
Fear not, old friend; you cannot fall or die,
Unless I strangle you with my gold fingers.
Now you may feel them, and how hard they are,
And cold. They are as cold and hard as death,
For they are made of death.”
Your majesty,” asked Hebron, “are you now?
If you're a king, long live the king, say I;
And let me ride as a contented subject
On the king's back. I'm not uncomfortable;
And if I'm heavier than I was at first,
Do you guess why? It is because I'm changing,
Jasper. Yes, I am changing into gold.
I am the gold that you said would be mine—
Before you stole it, and became a king.
Fear not, old friend; you cannot fall or die,
Unless I strangle you with my gold fingers.
Now you may feel them, and how hard they are,
And cold. They are as cold and hard as death,
For they are made of death.”
1431
“Hebron, have mercy!
Leave me—or strangle me, and let me die!
Kill me—for I can carry you no farther.
You are as heavy as the world is, Hebron!
Hebron! Have mercy! Leave me, or let me die.”
Leave me—or strangle me, and let me die!
Kill me—for I can carry you no farther.
You are as heavy as the world is, Hebron!
Hebron! Have mercy! Leave me, or let me die.”
“No, I am not so heavy as the world is.
Jasper, you magnify me, and exalt me.
I am as heavy as no more of it
Than you said would be mine. Had you been king
Of the world, Jasper, you might be carrying now
The world's weight, maybe, and be far worse off
Than you are while you're carrying only me.
Jasper, I don't know what the world would weigh
If it were made of gold. It would be heavy,
And it would hurt you. I don't know how much.
I only know that you were a blind king,
And that your burden is no more than I am.
Jasper, suppose we go a little faster.
You cannot fall yet, and I'm riding nicely.
If only we might have the sight of water,
We'd say that I'm the Old Man of the Sea,
And you Sindbad the Sailor. If I should kick
Your ribs a bit with my gold heels, who knows
That we might not ascend this hill before us,
Which is a rough one, like an antelope,
Or like a young horse, for the love of running.
Yes, here we are. I said so. And who's that?
Who is that woman waving her white arms,
And laughing at you, Jasper? Is it Zoë?
And who is he that laughs to see his father
A kingly beast of burden? He's your son,
Jasper. Are you not sorry that he was born?
They call for you together, beckoning you
To cross this narrow chasm. It's narrow enough
To tempt you, and yet wide enough to swallow
And hide you if you leap. With me to carry,
You know the burden of your worth, and feel it,
As it accumulates with every step
An overpowering slow solidity
That clings, and cripples you the while it grows.
You said I might have crippled you, and I will.”
Jasper, you magnify me, and exalt me.
I am as heavy as no more of it
Than you said would be mine. Had you been king
Of the world, Jasper, you might be carrying now
The world's weight, maybe, and be far worse off
Than you are while you're carrying only me.
Jasper, I don't know what the world would weigh
If it were made of gold. It would be heavy,
And it would hurt you. I don't know how much.
I only know that you were a blind king,
And that your burden is no more than I am.
Jasper, suppose we go a little faster.
You cannot fall yet, and I'm riding nicely.
If only we might have the sight of water,
We'd say that I'm the Old Man of the Sea,
And you Sindbad the Sailor. If I should kick
Your ribs a bit with my gold heels, who knows
That we might not ascend this hill before us,
Which is a rough one, like an antelope,
Or like a young horse, for the love of running.
Yes, here we are. I said so. And who's that?
Who is that woman waving her white arms,
And laughing at you, Jasper? Is it Zoë?
And who is he that laughs to see his father
A kingly beast of burden? He's your son,
Jasper. Are you not sorry that he was born?
They call for you together, beckoning you
To cross this narrow chasm. It's narrow enough
1432
And hide you if you leap. With me to carry,
You know the burden of your worth, and feel it,
As it accumulates with every step
An overpowering slow solidity
That clings, and cripples you the while it grows.
You said I might have crippled you, and I will.”
“For God's love, Hebron, let me go to her!
I feel a meaning flaming in her eyes
For me that I must read. And there's a promise
Of more than I possess. Hebron, have mercy!
Leave me, and let me leap across this place
And hold her in my arms and say she's mine.”
I feel a meaning flaming in her eyes
For me that I must read. And there's a promise
Of more than I possess. Hebron, have mercy!
Leave me, and let me leap across this place
And hold her in my arms and say she's mine.”
“And why not?” said the prince, with a grimace
That was not his before. “Come, father, come!
Shake off that living load of death you carry
That was your life and your philosophy,
And here you are. One jump, and she is yours.
Come, father, come!” The prince danced up and down,
And Zoë danced; and the two danced together,
Each with a beckoning glee that chilled the king
To fury and despair.
That was not his before. “Come, father, come!
Shake off that living load of death you carry
That was your life and your philosophy,
And here you are. One jump, and she is yours.
Come, father, come!” The prince danced up and down,
And Zoë danced; and the two danced together,
Each with a beckoning glee that chilled the king
To fury and despair.
“Yes, father, yes!”
Cried Zoë, calling him with her arms, and laughing.
“Throw off the monster that is holding you
And crushing your poor shoulders to the ground.
Throw him away—and let him fall down screaming
Into the darkness that you see between us.
He'll fall for a long time, and never come back—
Or not as he is now. If you could see him
As truly as you feel him, just as I do,
You would see then your kingdom and your power
And glory—and as it is, and is to be.
He does not love you, father. Come to your son
And daughter, and be loved.”
Cried Zoë, calling him with her arms, and laughing.
“Throw off the monster that is holding you
And crushing your poor shoulders to the ground.
Throw him away—and let him fall down screaming
Into the darkness that you see between us.
He'll fall for a long time, and never come back—
Or not as he is now. If you could see him
As truly as you feel him, just as I do,
You would see then your kingdom and your power
1433
He does not love you, father. Come to your son
And daughter, and be loved.”
“You hear her, Jasper,”
Said Hebron, rowelling with his heels of gold
The king that carried him. “Her implication
Would be that I am gross and treacherous,
Malicious and vindictive. And if I am,
Who made me so? Answer me that, my king,
Before you leap. You may still feel her arms
Around you, and from the promise in her eyes
Decipher your salvation, though I doubt it.
You cannot leave her; and there's yet a chance,
Almost as large as a mosquito's ears,
That you and I may clear this chasm together.
If you leap with a free forgetfulness
Of me, and with a faith, and fervently,
We may not fall—though I suspect we shall;
For while we wait, moments accumulating
Are making me a load that is no lighter.
The prince and Zoë, I see, are occupied
And entertained while you are marking time
With anxious feet that are a toil to lift.
The more you wait, the mightier you must be
For your performance. And time has a voice
That says to me that you may wait no longer.
So let us leap, and hope. Jump, Jasper, jump!
If we go down together, I shall not die—
For you have killed me once, though I'm alive
In spite of dying, and heavier than you dreamed
The growing ghost of a dead friend could be.
You did it slowly, but you did it well,
And so that's over. One of life's awkward laws
Forbids my dying again for a friend's pleasure.”
By now King Jasper knew for what it was
That awful weight of gold that was alive
And breaking him. Below him he could see
That narrow gorge of darkness, and imagine
Unfathomable depth and emptiness
Wherein to fall; and he heard Zoë calling,
Barely two steps across from where he stood
And swayed and staggered, and raised painfully
One foot and then the other, because he must.
Said Hebron, rowelling with his heels of gold
The king that carried him. “Her implication
Would be that I am gross and treacherous,
Malicious and vindictive. And if I am,
Who made me so? Answer me that, my king,
Before you leap. You may still feel her arms
Around you, and from the promise in her eyes
Decipher your salvation, though I doubt it.
You cannot leave her; and there's yet a chance,
Almost as large as a mosquito's ears,
That you and I may clear this chasm together.
If you leap with a free forgetfulness
Of me, and with a faith, and fervently,
We may not fall—though I suspect we shall;
For while we wait, moments accumulating
Are making me a load that is no lighter.
The prince and Zoë, I see, are occupied
And entertained while you are marking time
With anxious feet that are a toil to lift.
The more you wait, the mightier you must be
For your performance. And time has a voice
That says to me that you may wait no longer.
So let us leap, and hope. Jump, Jasper, jump!
If we go down together, I shall not die—
For you have killed me once, though I'm alive
In spite of dying, and heavier than you dreamed
The growing ghost of a dead friend could be.
You did it slowly, but you did it well,
And so that's over. One of life's awkward laws
Forbids my dying again for a friend's pleasure.”
1434
That awful weight of gold that was alive
And breaking him. Below him he could see
That narrow gorge of darkness, and imagine
Unfathomable depth and emptiness
Wherein to fall; and he heard Zoë calling,
Barely two steps across from where he stood
And swayed and staggered, and raised painfully
One foot and then the other, because he must.
“Come, father, come!” the prince cried; and his eyes
Flashed with a stinging glee that pierced the king
Like an unseen hot sword.
Flashed with a stinging glee that pierced the king
Like an unseen hot sword.
And Zoë, holding
Her hands halfway across from where she laughed
And waited, said again, “Come, father, come!
You know you are my father, and you knew it
When first you found that I was in your house,
And there to stay, because you are my father.
Without you, I should never have been born.
Without you and your folly, and your shrewd eyes
That saw so much at once that they saw nothing,
Time would have had no need or place for me,
Or for the coming trouble I must behold
Because you gave to me unwittingly
My being. You should have thought of that before
You buried your brain and eyes in golden sand,
And in your personal desert saw the world.”
Her hands halfway across from where she laughed
And waited, said again, “Come, father, come!
You know you are my father, and you knew it
When first you found that I was in your house,
And there to stay, because you are my father.
Without you, I should never have been born.
Without you and your folly, and your shrewd eyes
That saw so much at once that they saw nothing,
Time would have had no need or place for me,
Or for the coming trouble I must behold
Because you gave to me unwittingly
My being. You should have thought of that before
You buried your brain and eyes in golden sand,
And in your personal desert saw the world.”
She danced and laughed, and the prince danced and laughed;
And both held out their hands to him and cried,
“Jump, father, jump!”
And both held out their hands to him and cried,
“Jump, father, jump!”
And Hebron, heavier still
Than ever, said, “Jasper, there is no more time.
There's only enough for you to say to Zoë
That you are Zoë's father. Are you, Jasper?”
Than ever, said, “Jasper, there is no more time.
1435
That you are Zoë's father. Are you, Jasper?”
“Yes, I am Zoë's father,” Jasper groaned.
“My folly and I together, for centuries,
Have been the forebears of her parentage.
But I can say no more. Hebron, have pity!
For you are breaking me. My bones will hold
Your cursed weight no longer. Zoë! Zoë!
Tell him to let me die!”
“My folly and I together, for centuries,
Have been the forebears of her parentage.
But I can say no more. Hebron, have pity!
For you are breaking me. My bones will hold
Your cursed weight no longer. Zoë! Zoë!
Tell him to let me die!”
She laughed at him,
And holding out her arms again, said only,
“Jump, father, jump!”
And holding out her arms again, said only,
“Jump, father, jump!”
King Jasper's eyes met hers,
Which held him like a charmed and helpless prey,
Without a will to choose, and without power
To stand there longer on the sickening verge
Of a bleak narrow cleft that he was never
To cross—never with Hebron's deadly weight
So crushing him that he could only plunge
And fall. Dashing away the last of hope
As he might a weak insect stinging him,
King Jasper shut his eyes for the vain leap
That even for one in hell must be the last.
He plunged, and instantly felt Hebron's weight
Releasing him from its intolerable
And awful clutch; and with a joy like none
To be believed, he found he was not falling.
He was alive and upright on safe rock
That he could feel beneath him, and should see
When his eyes dared to open. He had crossed
Incredibly that chasm; and where he stood
He was no more the slave of weight or motion.
All but his eyes believed. They would not open
Until the prince explained—maliciously,
And with a cynic jeering in a voice
That half was his and half was no man's voice:
Which held him like a charmed and helpless prey,
Without a will to choose, and without power
To stand there longer on the sickening verge
Of a bleak narrow cleft that he was never
To cross—never with Hebron's deadly weight
So crushing him that he could only plunge
And fall. Dashing away the last of hope
As he might a weak insect stinging him,
King Jasper shut his eyes for the vain leap
That even for one in hell must be the last.
He plunged, and instantly felt Hebron's weight
Releasing him from its intolerable
And awful clutch; and with a joy like none
To be believed, he found he was not falling.
He was alive and upright on safe rock
That he could feel beneath him, and should see
When his eyes dared to open. He had crossed
Incredibly that chasm; and where he stood
He was no more the slave of weight or motion.
1436
Until the prince explained—maliciously,
And with a cynic jeering in a voice
That half was his and half was no man's voice:
“Well, father, after all 't was but a matter
Of seeing what might be done, and doing it first.
If you had waited longer, someone else
Might have come first, and might have stolen Zoë
Away from both of us. Open your eyes,
Father, for God's sake. Don't say you are blind.
You are old enough to see.”
Of seeing what might be done, and doing it first.
If you had waited longer, someone else
Might have come first, and might have stolen Zoë
Away from both of us. Open your eyes,
Father, for God's sake. Don't say you are blind.
You are old enough to see.”
King Jasper felt
A shaft of cold go through him, and forgot
That he was free once more to stand alone,
And that the weight of Hebron grown to gold
Was off his breaking shoulders. Indecision,
Worse than no hope, still held him until, slowly,
He looked and saw. He saw the prince before him,
And feared him, knowing not why; and he saw Hebron,
A shape of living gold that once was his
And was now hating him; and he saw Zoë,
Fairer to see than woman born of woman
Was yet on earth to be.
A shaft of cold go through him, and forgot
That he was free once more to stand alone,
And that the weight of Hebron grown to gold
Was off his breaking shoulders. Indecision,
Worse than no hope, still held him until, slowly,
He looked and saw. He saw the prince before him,
And feared him, knowing not why; and he saw Hebron,
A shape of living gold that once was his
And was now hating him; and he saw Zoë,
Fairer to see than woman born of woman
Was yet on earth to be.
“You do not know me,”
She said, with a calm hatred in her eyes;
You never shall. Why did you not go down—
Down there, where you belong? Why are you here?
No,—come no nearer, for I've this to save me.
The wise man, when he gave it to me, told me
That one day I might use it—against you,
Perhaps, or one not you, yet of your making,
As I am. Are you trying to make me love you?
If I am beautiful and desirable,
Evil and ignorance have made me so—
Evil not mine, but yours. No—come no nearer.
This knife, you see, has a blade like a needle
To pierce you and your folly unless you hear me.”
She said, with a calm hatred in her eyes;
You never shall. Why did you not go down—
Down there, where you belong? Why are you here?
No,—come no nearer, for I've this to save me.
The wise man, when he gave it to me, told me
That one day I might use it—against you,
Perhaps, or one not you, yet of your making,
As I am. Are you trying to make me love you?
If I am beautiful and desirable,
1437
Evil not mine, but yours. No—come no nearer.
This knife, you see, has a blade like a needle
To pierce you and your folly unless you hear me.”
“I hear you—but I cannot let you go!”
The king cried, leaning towards her, his arms hungry
To seize her and to hold her ... “Zoë! Zoë!”
The king cried, leaning towards her, his arms hungry
To seize her and to hold her ... “Zoë! Zoë!”
He saw the knife upraised in her small hand
And he saw fire of anger and malignance
Burning in her bright eyes; and then he felt
Steel in his heart, and sank there at her feet.
And he saw fire of anger and malignance
Burning in her bright eyes; and then he felt
Steel in his heart, and sank there at her feet.
“Poor king! Poor fool!” she said, and laughed at him
As once he clutched the edge of that cold chasm,
Before he fell. For he was falling now
Into a darkness that was colder still;
And while he fell, he could see far above him
Three faces mocking him; and while he saw them,
He could hear Zoë's laughter singing down
Like vengeance down from paradise to the damned.
There was a falling long and horrible
Into a darkness where he felt the death
Of time beneath him; and then, suddenly,
There was an end of that; and there was daylight
Where now the king lay trembling on his bed,
Not sure at first that he was there alive.
He was not sure that he was there at all—
Till pain apprised him sorely of a wound
That ached where Zoë's knife had found his heart.
As once he clutched the edge of that cold chasm,
Before he fell. For he was falling now
Into a darkness that was colder still;
And while he fell, he could see far above him
Three faces mocking him; and while he saw them,
He could hear Zoë's laughter singing down
Like vengeance down from paradise to the damned.
There was a falling long and horrible
Into a darkness where he felt the death
Of time beneath him; and then, suddenly,
There was an end of that; and there was daylight
Where now the king lay trembling on his bed,
Not sure at first that he was there alive.
He was not sure that he was there at all—
Till pain apprised him sorely of a wound
That ached where Zoë's knife had found his heart.
| Collected poems of Edwin Arlington Robinson | |