Ere the moon has climbed the mountain, ere the rocks are ribbed with light, When the downward-dipping trails are dank and drear,

Comes a breathing hard behind thee--_snuffle-snuffle_ through the night-- It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!

On thy knees and draw the bow; bid the shrilling arrow go; In the empty, mocking thicket plunge the spear!

But thy hands are loosed and weak, and the blood has left thy cheek-- It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!

When the heat-cloud sucks the tempest, when the slivered pine-trees fall, When the blinding, blaring rain-squalls lash and veer, Through the war-gongs of the thunder rings a voice more loud than all-- It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!

Now the spates are banked and deep; now the footless boulders leap-- Now the lightning shows each littlest leaf-rib clear-- But thy throat is shut and dried, and thy heart against thy side Hammers: Fear, O Little Hunter--this is Fear!

GOW'S WATCH

ACT II. SCENE 2

_The pavilion in the Gardens. Enter Ferdinand and the King_

_Ferdinand_. Your tiercel's too long at hack. Sir.

He's no eya.s.s But a pa.s.sage-hawk that footed ere we caught him.

Dangerously free o' the air. Faith, were he mine (As mine's the glove he binds to for his tirings) I'd fly him with a make-hawk. He's in yarak Plumed to the very point. So manned, so weathered!

Give him the firmament G.o.d made him for.

And what shall take the air of him?

_The King_. A young wing yet.

Bold--overbold on the perch, but, think you, Ferdinand, He can endure the tall skies yonder? Cozen Advantage out of the teeth of the hurricane?

Choose his own mate against the lammer-geier?

Ride out a night-long tempest, hold his pitch Between the lightning and the cloud it leaps from, Never too pressed to kill?

_Ferdinand_. I'll answer for him.

Bating all parable, I know the Prince.

There's a bleak devil in the young, my Lord; G.o.d put it there to save 'em from their elders And break their father's heart, but bear them scatheless Through mire and thorns and blood if need be.

Think What our prime saw! Such glory, such achievements As now our children, wondering at, examine Themselves to see if they shall hardly equal.

But what cared we while we wrought the wonders?

Nothing!

The rampant deed contented.

_The King_. Little enough, G.o.d knows! But afterwards? After-- There comes the reckoning. I would save him that.

_Ferdinand_. Save him dry scars that ache of winter-nights.

Worn out self-pity and as much of knowledge As makes old men fear judgment? Then loose him--loose him, A' G.o.d's name loose him to adventure early!

And trust some random pike, or half-backed horse, Besides what's caught in Italy, to save him.

_The King_. I know. I know. And yet ... What stirs in the garden?

_Enter Gow and a Gardener bearing the Prince's body_

_Ferdinand_.(G.o.ds give me patience!) Gow and a gardener Bearing some load along in the dusk to the dunghill.

Nay--a dead branch--But as I said, the Prince----

_The King. _They've set it down. Strange that they work so late.

_Gow (setting down the body)_. Heark, you unsanctified fool, while I set out our story. We found it, this side the North park wall which it had climbed to pluck nectarines from the alley. Heark again! There was a nectarine in its hand when we found it, and the naughty brick that slipped from the coping beneath its foot and so caused its death, lies now under the wall for the King to see.

_The King (above)_. The King to see! Why should he? Who's the man?

_Gow_. That is your tale. Swerve from it by so much as the breadth of my dagger and here's your instant reward. You heard not, saw not, and by the Horns of ninefold-cuckolded Jupiter you thought not nor dreamed not anything more or other!

_The King_. Ninefold-cuckolded Jupiter. That's a rare oath! Shall we look closer?

_Ferdinand_. Not yet, my Lord! (I cannot hear him breathe.)

_Gardener_. The North park wall? It was so.

Plucking nectarines. It shall be. But how shall I say if any ask why our Lady the Queen--

_Gow (stabs him)_. Thus! Hie after the Prince and tell him y'are the first fruits of his nectarine tree. Bleed there behind the laurels.

_The King_. Why did Gow buffet the clown?

What said he? I'll go look.

_Ferdinand (above)_. Save yourself! It is the King!

_Enter the King and Ferdinand to Gow_

_Gow_. G.o.d save you! This was the Prince!

_The King_. The Prince! Not a dead branch?

(_Uncovers the face_.) My flesh and blood! My son! my son! my son!

_Ferdinand_ (_to Gow_). I had feared something of this. And that fool yonder?

_Gow_. Dead, or as good. He cannot speak.

_Ferdinand_. Better so.

_The King_. 'Loosed to adventure early!' Tell the tale.

_Gow_. Saddest truth alack! I came upon him not a half hour since, fallen from the North park wall over against the Deerpark side--dead--dead!--a nectarine in his hand that the dear lad must have climbed for, and plucked the very instant, look you, that a brick slipped on the coping. 'Tis there now.

So I lifted him, but his neck was as you see--and already cold.

_The King_. Oh, very cold. But why should he have troubled to climb? He was free of all the fruit in my garden, G.o.d knows!... What, Gow?

_Gow_. Surely, G.o.d knows!

_The King_. A lad's trick. But I love him the better for it.... True, he's past loving.... And now we must tell our Queen. What a coil at the day's end! She'll grieve for him. Not as I shall; Ferdinand, but as youth for youth. They were much of the same age. Playmate for playmate.

See, he wears her colours. That is the knot she gave him last--last.... Oh G.o.d! When was yesterday?

_Ferdinand_. Come in! Come in, my Lord.