Yea, I was king once; the songs sung o'er my cradle, Were ballads of battle and deeds of my fathers: Yea, I was King Pharamond; in no carpeted court-room Bore they the corpse of my father before me; But on gra.s.s trodden grey by the hoofs of the war-steeds Did I kneel to his white lips and sword-cloven bosom, As from clutch of dead fingers his notched sword I caught; For a furlong before us the spear-wood was glistening.

I was king of this city when here where we stand now Amidst a grim silence I mustered all men folk Who might yet bear a weapon; and no brawl of kings was it That brought war on the city, and silenced the markets And c.u.mbered the haven with crowd of masts sailless, But great countries arisen for our ruin and downfall.

I was king of the land, when on all roads were riding The legates of proud princes to pray help and give service-- Yea, I was a great king at last as I sat there, Peace spread far about me, and the love of all people To my palace gates wafted by each wind of the heavens.

--And where sought I all this? with what price did I buy it?

Nay, for thou knowest that this fair fame and fortune Came stealing soft-footed to give their gifts to me: And shall I, who was king once, grow griping and weary In unclosing the clenched fists of n.i.g.g.ards who hold them, These gifts that I had once, and, having, scarce heeded?

Nay, one thing I have sought, I have sought and have found it, And thou, friend, hast helped me and seest me made happy.

MASTER OLIVER

Farewell then the last time, O land of my fathers!

Farewell, feeble hopes that I once held so mighty.

Yet no more have I need of but this word that thou sayest, And nought have I to do but to serve thee, my master.

In what land of the world shall we dwell now henceforward?

KING PHARAMOND

In the land where my love our returning abideth, The poor land and kingless of the shepherding people, There is peace there, and all things this land are unlike to.

MASTER OLIVER

Before the light waneth will I seek for a pa.s.sage, Since for thee and for me the land groweth perilous: Yea, o'er sweet smell the flowers, too familiar the folk seem, Fain I grow of the salt seas, since all things are over here.

KING PHARAMOND

I am fain of one hour's farewell in the twilight, To the times I lament not: times worser than these times, To the times that I blame not, that brought on times better-- Let us meet in our hostel--be brave mid thy kindness, Let thy heart say, as mine saith, that fair life awaits us.

MASTER OLIVER

Yea, no look in thy face is of ruin, O my master; Thou art king yet, unchanged yet, nor is my heart changing; The world hath no chances to conquer thy glory.

[_Exit OLIVER_

KING PHARAMOND

Full fair were the world if such faith were remembered.

If such love as thy love had its due, O my fosterer.

Forgive me that giftless from me thou departest, With thy gifts in my hands left. I might not but take them; Thou wilt not begrudge me, I will not forget thee.-- --Long fall the shadows and night draws on apace now, Day sighs as she sinketh back on to her pillow, And her last waking breath is full sweet with the rose.

--In such wise depart thou, O daylight of life, Loved once for the shadows that told of the dreamtide; Loved still for the longing whereby I remember That I was lone once in the world of thy making; Lone wandering about on thy blind way's confusion, The maze of thy paths that yet led me to love.

All is pa.s.sed now, and pa.s.sionless, faint are ye waxen, Ye hours of blind seeking full of pain clean forgotten.

If it were not that e'en now her eyes I behold not.

That the way lieth long to her feet that would find me, That the green seas delay yet her fair arms enfolding, That the long leagues of air will not bear the cry hither Wherewith she is crying. Come, love, for I love thee.

[_A trumpet sounds_.

Hark! O days grown a dream of the dream ye have won me, Do ye draw forth the ghosts of old deeds that were nothing, That the sound of my trumpet floats down on the even?

What shows will ye give me to grace my departure?

Hark!--the beat of the horse-hoofs, the murmur of men folk!

Am I riding from battle amidst of my faithful, Wild hopes in my heart of the days that are coming; Wild longing unsatisfied clinging about me; Full of faith that the summer sun elsewhere is ripening The fruit grown a pain for my parched lips to think of?

--Come back, thou poor Pharamond! come back for my pity!

Far afield must thou fare before the rest cometh; In far lands are they raising the walls of thy prison, Forging wiles for waylaying, and fair lies for lulling, The faith and the fire of the heart the world hateth.

In thy way wax streams fordless, and choked pa.s.ses pathless, Fever lurks in the valley, and plague pa.s.seth over The sand of the plain, and with venom and fury Fulfilled are the woods that thou needs must wend through: In the hollow of the mountains the wind is a-storing Till the keel that shall carry thee hoisteth her sail; War is crouching unseen round the lands thou shalt come to, With thy sword cast away and thy cunning forgotten.

Yea, and e'en the great lord, the great Love of thy fealty, He who goadeth thee on, weaveth nets to cast o'er thee.

--And thou knowest it all, as thou ridest there lonely, With the tangles and toils of to-morrow's uprising Making ready meanwhile for more days of thy kingship.

Faithful heart hadst thou, Pharamond, to hold fast thy treasure!

I am fain of thee: surely no shame hath destained thee; Come hither, for thy face all unkissed would I look on!

--Stand we close, for here cometh King Theobald from the hunting.

_Enter KING THEOBALD, HONORIUS, and the people._

KING THEOBALD

A fair day, my folk, have I had in your fellowship, And as fair a day cometh to-morrow to greet us, When the lord of the Golden Land bringeth us tribute: Grace the gifts of my good-hap with your presence, I pray you.

THE PEOPLE

G.o.d save Theobald the Good, the king of his people!

HONORIUS (_aside_)

Yea, save him! and send the Gold lords away satisfied, That the old sword of Pharamond, lying asleep there In the new golden scabbard, will yet bite as aforetime!

[_They pa.s.s away into the palace court._

KING PHARAMOND

Troop past in the twilight, O pageant that served me, Pour through the dark archway to the light that awaits you In the chamber of das where I once sat among you!

Like the shadows ye are to the shadowless glory Of the banquet-hall blazing with gold and light go ye: There blink for a little at your king in his bravery, Then bear forth your faith to the blackness of night-tide, And fall asleep fearless of memories of Pharamond, And in dim dreams dream haply that ye too are kings --For your dull morrow cometh that is as to-day is.

Pa.s.s on in contentment, O king, I discerned not Through the cloak of your blindness that saw nought beside thee, That feared for no pain and craved for no pleasure!

Pa.s.s on, dead-alive, to thy place! thou art worthy: Nor shalt thou grow wearier than well-worshipped idol That the incense winds round in the land of the heathen, While the early and latter rains fall as G.o.d listeth, And on earth that G.o.d loveth the sun riseth daily.

--Well art thou: for wert thou the crown of all rulers, No field shouldst thou ripen, free no frost-bounden river, Loose no heart from its love, turn no soul to salvation, Thrust no tempest aside, stay no plague in mid ocean, Yet grow unto thinking that thou wert G.o.d's brother, Till loveless death gripped thee unloved, unlamented.

--Pa.s.s forth, weary King, bear thy crown high to-night!

Then fall asleep, fearing no cry from times bygone, But in dim dreams dream haply that thou art desired,-- --For thy dull morrow cometh, and is as to-day is.

Ah, hold! now there flashes a link in the archway, And its light falleth full on thy face, O Honorius, And I know thee the land's lord, and far away fadeth My old life of a king at the sight, O thou stranger!

For I know thee full surely the foe the heart hateth For that barren fulfilment of all that it lacketh.

I may turn away praising that those days long departed Departed without thee--how long had I piped then Or e'er thou hadst danced, how long were my weeping Ere thou hadst lamented!--What dear thing desired Would thy heart e'er have come to know why I craved for!

To what crime I could think of couldst thou be consenting?

Yet thou--well I know thee most meet for a ruler-- --Thou lovest not mercy, yet shalt thou be merciful; Thou joy'st not in justice, yet just shall thy dooms be; No deep h.e.l.l thou dreadest, nor dream'st of high heaven; No gleam of love leads thee: no gift men may give thee; For no kiss, for no comfort the lone way thou wearest, A blind will without life, lest thou faint ere the end come.

--Yea, folly it was when I called thee my foeman; From thee may I turn now with sword in the scabbard Without shame or misgiving, because G.o.d hath made thee A ruler for manfolk: pa.s.s on then unpitied!

There is darkness between us till the measure's fulfilment.

Amidst singing thou hear'st not, fair sights that thou seest not, Think this eve on the deeds thou shalt set in men's hands To bring fair days about for which thou hast no blessing.