 | The Queen of the Hid Isle |  |
11
ACT I.
Scene I.
—The Enchanted Castle of Elzir on the Hidden Island of Cephalonia.Elzir.
It is the fateful day. At dawn, when first
The morning blew her heart's curled petals ope,
In crimson efflorescence of new love,
And in the goblet of her flower-like clouds
Received the chaliced liquor of the sun,
Drenching the dewy coral leaves with life,
There came o'er the red wave from Avalon,
Between the flamy lips of sea and sky,
Making a severance of their rounded kiss,
Fanned by an odorous wind, a swan-like barque
With golden sails, the same that touched our isle
But one short hundred years agone; her crew
12
On that last venture. Music wakened me.
I rose, and from the eastern tower looked forth
Under the gable, o'er the flushing sea
Toward the orient. There the day was rent,
And from the cleft, the gorgeous gash of cloud,
Issued a sail. The sky had vermeiled it
With her own grain, a garnet red as blood,
But paler than the garnet of the dawn:
Then the light struck it, when, chameleon-like,
It touched on notes of half the rainbow-scale;
Rose, orange-scarlet, tawny, amber, gold,
And golden lay on the sea's flattering glass
Coquetting with its image. For the wind
That kissed the bosom of the heaving sail
Was faëry, and where the galleon rode
Curled not one vitreous wavelet of the flood;
But round the hull two diamond streaks of surge
Flashed lightnings back to the gold-glancing blades
Of cadenced oars that danced over the deep.
And nigher and nigher down the blood-bright track,
Where the sun strewed red purples for her way,
A widening wavy drapet, as she came,
13
Sweeter and richer swelled the fairy voices
That woke me, farther heard than mortal strains:
Till at the last the smooth and silken sail
Brake into creases, and the crumpled gold
Was brailed up to the golden yard, and furled
Close on our island.
Herm.
Well I know it, love.
I spied her vane and flaunting gonfalon
Above the last abuttal of the land,
Forth-setting with my hounds, e'en where she lay
On the creek's glassy bosom, by the wood,
High up the outreached armlet of the sea,
And knew the hour was come.
Elzir.
Alas! dear love,
I grudge thee to rude mortals. They will read
Heaven's fadeless glory on thy built-up brows,
Un-sorrow-tarnished, alabaster-white,
And on thy cheeks, unfurrowed by a tear,
Youth's florid gladness creeping purply through:
And seeing thee thus wise, and fair, and glad,
Foam into madness, and spit poisonous sleet,
The wild-boar spittle of hate grown rancorous,
Squirt acrid venom through the fastened fangs
Of envy and pollute the fountful wells
14
And joy-forbidding monk's-hood, saintly chrism,
Thrice stilled and filtered through the hypocrite's heart.
Herm.
I would thy scale of grief hung lightier, queen,
Though mine were therefore heavier; but thy love
I would have balance mine, nor more nor less.
Elzir.
O love, the balance of love is not true,
But poised against the woman: else no pair
Of lovers were at even, nor could draw
With equal necks the golden yoke of life;
So far more precious is a woman's love.
Herm.
'Tis true the heapèd jewels of thy grace
Outweigh my heart's best corals with pure pearl,
My silver grit with granules of chaste gold:
So to be straight with you and mend the weight,
I throw my faith into it.
Elzir.
Oh, that's lightest!
Thou wilt be drinking from some mortal's lips
Love's giddy nectar of mixed sighs and prayers;
Yea, sucking honey from some mortal flower,
Letting faith's fady roses drop their leaves
In the heart's heavenly corner, there to rot,
Ere thou be gone an hour hence from the hive.
Herm.
I swear it. Never!
15
By thy knightly vow?
Herm.
Ay, by my knightly vow and Christian soul!
Elzir.
Then thus I set my girdling guardian love
E'en in the rondure of this glamoured gold
Upon thy finger.
Herm.
Thus I kiss thy gift
And swear to be true ever.
[Music.
Hear you softly
Between the tree-stems on the ebbing wind,
Borne through the wood's green twilight to our ears,
A most delicious music—fluty tones
Of flageolets, clear clarions mellowed down
By distance, and faint tappings of the drum,
Like dim dream-music?
Elzir.
Ay, for now they come
To arm thee for thy birth.
Herm.
Ah, me! that strain
I heard it once before, but when or where
Cannot recall.
Elzir.
An hundred years ago,
On thy last voyage to the world of men.
Enter two Pages leading Steeds.
1st Page.
Thy steed Gelwedrun, of enchanted race,
16
Chief of the fairy horses of Isaie,
Bestrode by Cæsar homeward-bound from Gaul,
By other mortal never, Morgue the Fay
Sends for thy use, thus barbed and spiked with gold.
Herm.
Thou shalt be as the anger of my soul,
For with the storm-wind force of passion thou
Shalt bear me to mine ends; but I, thy lord,
With knees of will and bit of sharp restraint
Shall rudder thee and rule thee.
Elzir.
Morgue the Fay
Sends thee this other, white as snow in cloud,
That never kist base earth.
Herm.
I'll call thee Love,
And spotless keep as now thou'rt given me.
Enter two beautiful Maidens bearing a Cuirass, another with a Helmet, and a third with a Shield.
1st Maiden.
This habergeon of beaten burnished gold,
Graved and embossed with mystic hieroglyphs,
Thy mistress sends, and bids thee serve the right.
2nd Maiden.
And set this globy morion on thy head,
Fire-new, still beaming from the furnace-kiss.
Lo! white as glass, the crystal-polished gold
Shines more like silver! Wear it for her sake.
17
And hang this sun-bright mirror on thine arm,
To daze thy foes with likeness of themselves
And with the brightness of intolerable truth.
Enter a fair young Knight bearing a Sword and a Lute.
Knight.
And this to strike with, cruel ice-blue steel,
More nimble-swift and pliable than thought,
And that for song with strings of phantasy.
Elzir.
And now, farewell; for see the swan-drawn boat,
The fairy pinnace, the bright galley's child,
Tarries for thee to bear into the world.
O unborn soul! be faithful to thy fate.
Thou hast my pledge: thou goest not unarmed.
Say not, when they that spare not, or abase
By sparing, thrust at thee with venomed fangs,
That weaponless or weaponed yet unwarned
Thou wentest from us earthward. Take this kiss,
And bear it stainless on thy lips through life.
Herm.
Farewell, O love! the giddy dream comes on:
I swoon into new life: I cannot stay:
The shore slips from me: O my love, farewell!
18
Scene II.
—The Lists near Amanda's Castle.Aman.
Proclaim the tourney. Let the just begin;
For God shall send a champion; doubt it not.
Herald.
In Balder's name I challenge all spurred knights,
Whomso it list gainsay his word, who says
She that men call Amanda, queen of Troy,
Is no true queen, but a base harlotry,
Be-painted and be-kist of belamours,
Bosomed in wantonness and lapped in lust:
In proof whereof there lies his knightly gage.
Aman.
What! shall it lie unlifted? Of my knights
Will none darrain the battle in my right?—
You, good Sir Percivale?
Sir Percivale.
I crave you grace.
On me hath Slander set her chiefest seal,
Which so to battle were to set my print
And signet to.
Aman.
Then let the trumpet sound!
Let strangers reap the glory.
[Fanfare of trumpets.
Aman.
Look, Eulice.
Who comes?
Eulice.
I see nor hear no sight or sound.
19
Then sound again!
[Fanfare, and answering blast.
Eulice.
I hear a winded horn
Close in the woods.
Aman.
A third time put your breath
Into the brazen tube. Heaven helps the right.
[Fanfare.
Whom see you now?
Eulice.
One on a piebald horse,
With brisket all bemired and neck befoamed
With riding hard, comes hither from the woods.
Enter Clarimonde.
Clar.
Who is the challenger of this day's just?
Aman.
Sir Herald, pray you read again the charge.
Her.
In Balder's name I challenge all spurred knights,
Whomso it list gainsay his word, who says
She that men call Amanda, queen of Troy,
Is no true queen, but a base harlotry,
Be-painted and be-kissed of belamours,
Bosomed in wantonness and lapped in lust:
In proof whereof there lies his knightly gage.
Clar.
Thou faitour knight! thus do I lift thy gage,
And for thy leasing hurl it in thy teeth.
Fight, caitiff, or be choked with thine own lie!
20
That will I. Reach me hither my good lance.
[They take their places at opposite ends of the lists.
Aman.
Sound, herald!
[Fanfare. They tilt, and Clarimonde is unhorsed.
Hath Heaven forgotten truth?
Yet, valiant knight, thou shalt not bleed to death.
[She descends towards Clarimonde.
Bald.
Lo, this was one that fed her lusting eyes
With belgards and with kisses. Kiss him now.
Aman.
Lift up the aventail, that he may breathe.
Unclench the brassart of the sword-arm. See!
'Twas here he took the point. Good master leech,
Brail up the wing of this poor wounded hawk.
'Tis a good wound: he took it for the right.
Bald.
Heaven knows, and hath decreed it otherwise.
But that all men go hence assured hereof,
Sound again trumpet. Once more, come who will,
I'll prove upon his body this man lied.
[Fanfare; answer at a distance.
Aman.
Eulice, whom see you? I see nought.
Eulice.
Lo, queen,
There comes a boat adown the river-sweep,
21
Bright like a fairy warrior, cased in gold.
Heaven sends thee thy deliverer. Offer thanks.
Enter Hermadon in the boat.
Aman.
Welcome, fair sir; you come in happy hour
If you would fight with traitors and false knights
That blow upon my name and rule my land.
Herm.
It pains me, queen, to dip my spotless sword
In blood of bourders and base recreants
That gird at chastity, and through the world
Do high oppression on the weak and poor.
Where is the man?
Aman.
Yonder the villain stands.
Herm.
What! with the blazoned shield and knightly arms?
Aman.
The same.
Herm.
Cast off that gear for very shame,
Or do submission to thy lady queen,
Swear fealty and homage.
Bald.
Sir, be merry!
Herm.
Seem I to you as merry? I am sad.
Bald.
A coward's sadness on the verge of fight.
Herm.
I grieve to be a knight, to wear the spurs,
To wield the sword, for knighthood is abased.
22
Then put the spurs off. We thirst not for blood.
Herm.
Peace, vaunter. Busk thee for the fight or yield.
[They take their places.
Aman.
Sound, heralds.
[Fanfare. They tilt, and Balder is easily unhorsed.
Aman.
Spare him, for he spared our friend.
Herm.
It is too late. High justice hath been done.
All men take warning by this churl's offence
And by his chastisement. So scoffers end
Who gibe at grace and knighthood. Take him hence.
And you, fair queen, I am your guest this night.
To-morrow we will set your realm at peace,
And pass upon our journey.
Aman.
Come away
And banquet with us after this fair fray.
Scene III.
—The Hall of Amanda's Castle. A banquet spread. Amanda, Hermadon, Clarimonde, Chauntval, Eulice seated. Jester seated on the steps of the dais. Soft music.Aman.
Pour out the creamy beverage of blue grapes,
The purple ferment mantling with dim snow,
23
And stored a century in icy vaults
Under our castle. Spice the grace-cup well
In honour of this day's deliverance.
But none save virgin metal suits thy lips,
Our holy champion, nor shall lip of ours
Touch the gold rim ere thou with sacred kiss
Hast given an unction to the warmèd cup
For us who shall come after.
Chaun.
Nay, fair queen,
Thou robbest him of half the sweet. Which couch,
Think you, a lover would the sooner kiss,
That where his love has slept or is to sleep?
Let the sweet brim be wet with thy fair lips;
I warrant thee our champion drinks no worse.
Herm.
Sweet lady, drink or drink not of the cup,
I shall with no base lip or thought profane
Thy kiss upon it, nor love it best unkist.
Chaste to the chaste, and chaste lips oft have met
In holy chapels, by the altar's candles,
Under the smiling saints, as pure as they;
Nor can the Devil himself find room between
The close salute of holy hearts and hands.
Taste thou the cup.
24
I pass it next to thee.
Herm.
And I, fair dame Eulice, must crave you grace
For courtesy that breeds discourtesy.
Jester.
Fair dame Eulice, sire, hath a liquorish mouth,
And knows not if to thank thee or to chide,
Who keepest back the wine and lipp'st the cup.
Aman.
Peace, mannerless; you make our guest to blush.
Jester.
So would Eulice, I warrant!
Aman.
Fair Eulice.
Eulice.
Thanks, queen; I am not thirsty. This for love.
There touched my lip.
Chaun.
I shall not miss the place.
Jester.
And afterward change plates with her, and pick
The clean-picked bones put by upon one side.
'Tis well for fools that God made women.
Chaun.
Why?
Jester.
They make all men so like us.
Chaun.
Then you lose
Your privileges.
Jester.
No, there's room for more;
And chiefly poets, gentle troubadour.
Chaun.
Friend, take the cup.
[Chauntval gives the cup to Clarimonde.
25
See how he turns it round
To find a clean place. Fetch a napkin, sewer,
To wipe the love off for Sir Clarimonde!
Aman.
Sir Clarimonde shall pay us for his scorn
With his sweet voice; and thou, Sir Troubadour,
For that the knight drank after thee, shalt sing
After the knight. Fetch me a lute.
[Attendant brings in a lute and gives it to Clarimonde.
Clar.
Thanks, boy.
List, I will sing thee of the old fay knights
And ladies say, whom all men now deem dead
But I and some few more, whose lifelong quest
Is sworn upon the Holy Sepulchre
To find them.
The Ballad of Avalon.
Once in a dream I sailed afar,
Out on the ocean far away,
In a magic barque to the evening star,
Past burnished gates of the closing day,
Till I heard the surge and saw the spray
(White on the loadstone rocks it shone),
Heard trumpet blare and war-horse neigh
There in the castle of Avalon.
Out on the ocean far away,
In a magic barque to the evening star,
Past burnished gates of the closing day,
Till I heard the surge and saw the spray
(White on the loadstone rocks it shone),
Heard trumpet blare and war-horse neigh
There in the castle of Avalon.
26
And I drave my skiff on the rocky bar,
And over the drawbridge took my way,
And in at the door, that stood ajar,
Gazed on the hall in the wan moon-ray.
There sat Ogier by Morgue the Fay,
And Huon, crowned, by Oberon,
And Oriande and the sad Isaie,
There in the castle of Avalon.
And over the drawbridge took my way,
And in at the door, that stood ajar,
Gazed on the hall in the wan moon-ray.
There sat Ogier by Morgue the Fay,
And Huon, crowned, by Oberon,
And Oriande and the sad Isaie,
There in the castle of Avalon.
There Lancelot rests from scath and scar,
And hears in dreams the clarions bray,
And Arthur leaves the heathen war
To list to Tristram's virelay.
And there is the Hid Isle's queen, who lay
With Alexander of Macedon,
And lured stern Cæsar to her play,
There in the castle of Avalon.
And hears in dreams the clarions bray,
And Arthur leaves the heathen war
To list to Tristram's virelay.
And there is the Hid Isle's queen, who lay
With Alexander of Macedon,
And lured stern Cæsar to her play,
There in the castle of Avalon.
L'ENVOY.
In jewelled arms and rich array
They sit, and let the years roll on.
Ye deem them dead: they live for aye,
There in the castle of Avalon.
Aman.
A sweet song. I were lief to deem it true.
But what is she, the queen of the Hid Isle?
27
Somewhere across green leagues of sea, and hid
Upon a land of myrrh and ambergris,
In a network of labyrinthine streams,
There is a spot: men call it the Hid Isle,
For he who chances on it, and departs,
May never more trace back thereto. The hills,
The marshes, and the rivers, and all signs
Or landmarks seem to slip and shift each hour;
And in the isle there dwells a lady fay
Who hath eternal life. Men speak of her
As wedded to the lord of Macedon,
And after to the good knight Cæsar. Thither,
To win that lady fay and deathless life,
My quest is sworn.
Jester.
I wish thee a good journey.
Lo, here's one bound for nowhere all his days!
Clar.
Thrice have I been in Spain, in Africa,
And Britain, and in Asia farther east
Than Babylon, nigh which, in a weird wood,
Sir Huon, whom I sang of, met the dwarf
Whose hair is yellow at three hundred years,
The fairy Oberon; and I have seen
High ventures in the realm of infidels,
But found no magic dame nor hidden isle.
Herm.
How know you if the lady be for you?
28
Who see, and who see not, with glamourous eyes,
To know enchantment from dull sense.
Clar.
Sir Knight,
I know not if I be of chosen men,
Nor if these eyes would know her if they saw.
But this I know—by seeking 'tis we find
If we are fit to find: and still I seek,
And, if by any manner toil I may,
Find her I will.
Herm.
And doth thy spirit-sense
Tell thee no surer tidings? They who fare
Upon this highest quest should throughly search
Their purgèd souls if they be fit or no.
Then, welling from the unfathomable soul,
The quickening fount of fire shall surge, and mount
With swift reverberant answer—Thou art fit,
Thou chosen; go thou straight to the Hid Isle.
The hills are fast; the path is smooth as day;
Thou canst not miss thy road. But otherwise
Forswear the venture. Wherefore waste thy days
Wandering in pathless voids of sea and land?
29
Not with impurity of fleshly deeds
(Which thou wert better have), but quenched with doubt,
That blinds her visual beams. Thou art of earth,
And all thy plodding shall avail thee nought.
Jester.
Here's one fool bound for nowhere, and another
Ready to show the way. My trade grows common.
Clar.
Art thou too of us? Or hast won the goal
To speak so surely? Stint thy warnings, friend.
Thou canst not keep the quest so to thyself;
We must go onward though we may not win.
Aman.
And thou, Sir Troubadour, hast thou no song?
Chaun.
Reach me the lute, fill me a cup of wine,
Rose-red or of the proper grapy hue.
I must have fire-wells in my veins to sing!
Let tingling wine in riotous ferment romp
And rage along the swollen channels first,
Enter my brain, and fill it with vague sound,
Like multitudinous cities heard afar
O'er moonlit seas. Who with unpurpled lips
Sings waterish songs of spiritual Avalons,
I hold no poet, though he be true knight.
My strain shall be of women and of wine,
30
In rose-gardens or by the fabled Nile,
With full-fleshed beauties; of the mountains trod
By madding Mænads naked to the waist,
That strew the ridges with their lovers' bones;
Or I will sing you a sweet song I heard
In Syria. 'Twas a Turkish damsel sang it,
Whose fingers, stained with soft alkenna tints,
Beat on the timbrel, a wild dancing-girl,
Chief of the Almai. 'Tis of a youth
Unto a sweet Circassian infidel
Reading the Alkoran, too much for sport,
Too little in faith and love. I have it! Thus:—
Young Aladinist of visionary glories,
Brushing with thy golden curls the Alkoran,
Say what dreamest thou, what strange sweet stories
Of the houris and the soul of man?
Wouldst thou with the houris too be reckoned,
Paradise were near:
Men would die if you but beckoned,
Cassalmire!
Brushing with thy golden curls the Alkoran,
Say what dreamest thou, what strange sweet stories
Of the houris and the soul of man?
Wouldst thou with the houris too be reckoned,
Paradise were near:
Men would die if you but beckoned,
Cassalmire!
Dreamst of lamp-lit gardens in enchanted valleys,
Pillars of amandola and agate stone,
Starry vistas, glimpses of gold alleys,
Avenues of arches diamond-strown,
Tinsel foliage of rattling metals,
Gold and copper sere,
Flowers that sprout with jasper petals,
Cassalmire?
Pillars of amandola and agate stone,
31
Avenues of arches diamond-strown,
Tinsel foliage of rattling metals,
Gold and copper sere,
Flowers that sprout with jasper petals,
Cassalmire?
Roofed arcades, long labyrinths of crystal porches,
Babylonian gardens swaying by gold chains,
Fumes of ambergris and sandal torches,
Melody of immeasurable strains,
Rivers rustling o'er green grail of beryl,
Slipping over sheer
Glassy diamond crags of peril,
Cassalmire?
Babylonian gardens swaying by gold chains,
Fumes of ambergris and sandal torches,
Melody of immeasurable strains,
Rivers rustling o'er green grail of beryl,
Slipping over sheer
Glassy diamond crags of peril,
Cassalmire?
Round thy palace palms arise and tree-ferns feather,
Gorgeous tropics chant by day and roar by night;
Scarlet orchids chain the trunks together,
Arches of loose-trellised parasite.
Silken skeins of creepers droop and cluster,
Cactus-prickles rear
Tassels of vermilion lustre,
Cassalmire!
Gorgeous tropics chant by day and roar by night;
Scarlet orchids chain the trunks together,
Arches of loose-trellised parasite.
Silken skeins of creepers droop and cluster,
Cactus-prickles rear
Tassels of vermilion lustre,
Cassalmire!
32
Glossy glaucous leaves shot through with silver patches,
Hung like burning lamps with globes of green-gold fruit:
Swaying nests, where the wild halcyon hatches
Her high hopes beyond low Care's pursuit:
Brims of rivers starred with golden aster,
Flat leaves on the mere,
Waxen cups and alabaster,
Cassalmire!
Hung like burning lamps with globes of green-gold fruit:
Swaying nests, where the wild halcyon hatches
Her high hopes beyond low Care's pursuit:
Brims of rivers starred with golden aster,
Flat leaves on the mere,
Waxen cups and alabaster,
Cassalmire!
Bee-like birds, that ruffle through the thorny tangles
Emerald feathers shot with dazzling coral gleams,
Crests of saffron specked with orange spangles,
Bright as beamy rainbows, swift as dreams;
Ever through the dusk air they illumine,
Like chameleons clear,
Shifting colour, glinting, glooming,
Cassalmire!
Emerald feathers shot with dazzling coral gleams,
Crests of saffron specked with orange spangles,
Bright as beamy rainbows, swift as dreams;
Ever through the dusk air they illumine,
Like chameleons clear,
Shifting colour, glinting, glooming,
Cassalmire!
Give me wings that I may follow thy swift vision,
For I fail and faint behind thee on thy flight:
Lift me hence up into thine Elysian,
Into thinner ether, stranger light.
I would see what lightning-fronted seraph,
Winged with thought and fear,
Stoops for thee across Al Araaf,
Cassalmire!
For I fail and faint behind thee on thy flight:
Lift me hence up into thine Elysian,
Into thinner ether, stranger light.
33
Winged with thought and fear,
Stoops for thee across Al Araaf,
Cassalmire!
Aman.
And thou, Sir Stranger Knight, my champion,
I crave thee of thy courtesy a song.
But be it somewhat other than thy speech,
Less like a mist-enfolden mountain-peak
Ensanguined with the blood of dawn and eve,
A beauteous sword sheathed up in mystery
And scabbarded with spiritual words,
More savouring of earth and earthly love,
That we, who are of earth and not of heaven,
And quickened with earth's love, may fathom it.
Herm.
The stream tastes ever of its source, fair queen,
The river of the stream, and you shall find
Both icy from their native mountain-snow,
Or tepid from their bubbling mineral-wells.
My song (or no song else) with current clear,
Doubt it not, lady, shall flow from my heart,
As silver or as tawny as the fount
34
Save as it gather soil from either bank
Through mire and marish, or, as with new blood,
Be fed with life by tributary streams,
And lightened by the moonbeams and the stars.
My song shall savour of my destiny
In this strange world, and of that other life
Before the womb, before oblivion.
Have patience with me if my song be sad.
There came a river out of the high snow:
There came a knight down from another world:
Most diamond-clear, it paced with even flow:
And close he kept his heart's warm petals furled.
There came a knight down from another world:
Most diamond-clear, it paced with even flow:
And close he kept his heart's warm petals furled.
The flowers were gladdened as with tears of God:
Men lifted up their hearts from the dead dust:
It left an Eden wheresoe'er it trod:
He made love's Paradise in wastes of lust.
Men lifted up their hearts from the dead dust:
It left an Eden wheresoe'er it trod:
He made love's Paradise in wastes of lust.
But as the banks be, such the stream must grow;
And as the world is, so the heart shall be:
With death and pestilence it marked its flow:
He through the world spread the world's misery.
And as the world is, so the heart shall be:
With death and pestilence it marked its flow:
He through the world spread the world's misery.
35
Is then the world so evil no pure thing
Can live in it and yet keep pure? so cruel
It turns to cruel the most pitiful?
Herm.
Nay, queen, for thou art in it.
Chaun.
Deftly flattered!
The earth begins to taint thee, and small harm!
For to what end this monstrous severance
Of flesh and spirit?
Herm.
Sir, there be in whom
Spirit and flesh, and flesh with spirit wed
So closely, each by other purified,
That through them throbs one single rhythmic life
With organ-tones and loftiest majesty:
But as the world is, so the heart becomes;
And each man hath his world, the which in some
Makes sharp division 'twixt the soul and flesh,
Filling the one with cruelty and remorse,
A maniac with the soul for manacle
To guide and bind it.
Chaun.
I know nought of this.
Herm.
The happier thou.
Clar.
The quest hath taught it me.
36
Come, friends, our talk grows sad and serious.
Follow me to the gardens. Bring the lute.
And you, sir seneschal, your choicest wine
Place in cool flagons 'neath the twilight trees
In the frescades, kept safe from sun or moon.
We will be merry. Come, Sir Hermadon!
| The Queen of the Hid Isle | |