{124}.

'Mors Janua'

Pilgrim, no shrine is here, no prison, no inn: Thy fear and thy belief alike are fond: Death is a gate, and holds no room within: Pa.s.s--to the road beyond.

{125}.

'Rondel'*

Though I wander far-off ways, Dearest, never doubt thou me:

Mine is not the love that strays, Though I wander far-off ways:

Faithfully for all my days I have vowed myself to thee: Though I wander far-off ways, Dearest, never doubt thou me.

* This and the two following pieces are from the French of Wenceslas, Duke of Brabant and Luxembourg, who died in 1384.

{126}.

'Rondel'

Long ago to thee I gave Body, soul, and all I have-- Nothing in the world I keep:

All that in return I crave Is that thou accept the slave Long ago to thee I gave-- Body, soul, and all I have.

Had I more to share or save, I would give as give the brave, Stooping not to part the heap; Long ago to thee I gave Body, soul, and all I have-- Nothing in the world I keep.

{127}.

'Balade'

I cannot tell, of twain beneath this bond, Which one in grief the other goes beyond,-- Narcissus, who to end the pain he bore Died of the love that could not help him more; Or I, that pine because I cannot see The lady who is queen and love to me.

Nay--for Narcissus, in the forest pond Seeing his image, made entreaty fond, "Beloved, comfort on my longing pour": So for a while he soothed his pa.s.sion sore; So cannot I, for all too far is she-- The lady who is queen and love to me.

But since that I have Love's true colours donned, I in his service will not now despond, For in extremes Love yet can all restore: So till her beauty walks the world no more All day remembered in my hope shall be The lady who is queen and love to me.

{128}.

'The Last Word'

Before the April night was late A rider came to the castle gate; A rider breathing human breath, But the words he spoke were the words of Death.

"Greet you well from the King our lord, He marches hot for the eastward ford; Living or dying, all or one, Ye must keep the ford till the race be run."

Sir Alain rose with lips that smiled, He kissed his wife, he kissed his child: Before the April night was late Sir Alain rode from the castle gate.

He called his men-at-arms by name, But one there was uncalled that came: He bade his troop behind him ride, But there was one that rode beside.

'"Why will you spur so fast to die?

Be wiser ere the night go by.

A message late is a message lost; For all your haste the foe had crossed."'

{129}.

'"Are men such small unmeaning things To strew the board of smiling Kings?

With life and death they play their game, And life or death, the end's the same."'

Softly the April air above Rustled the woodland homes of love: Softly the April air below Carried the dream of buds that blow.

'"Is he that bears a warrior's fame To shun the pointless stroke of shame?

Will he that propped a trembling throne Not stand for right when right's his own?'

'"Your oath on the four gospels sworn?

What oath can bind resolves unborn?

You lose that far eternal life?

Is it yours to lose? Is it child and wife?'

But now beyond the pathway's bend, Sir Alain saw the forest end, And winding wide beneath the hill, The gla.s.sy river lone and still.

And now he saw with lifted eyes The East like a great chancel rise, And deep through all his senses drawn, Received the sacred wine of dawn.

{130}.

He set his face to the stream below, He drew his axe from the saddle bow: "Farewell, Messire, the night is sped; There lies the ford, when all is said."

{131}.

'The Viking's Song'

When I thy lover first Shook out my canvas free And like a pirate burst Into that dreaming sea, The land knew no such thirst As then tormented me.

Now when at eve returned I near that sh.o.r.e divine, Where once but watch-fires burned I see thy beacon shine, And know the land hath learned Desire that welcomes mine.

{132}.

'The Sufi in the City'

I.