John Reade

“ Honouring Hector chief defence of Troy.
And now he looked on him, and smiled a smile
That spake his heart more than a thousand words,
And called the tears into his mother’s eyes.
She, clinging to her husband, grasped his hand,
And, sobbing “Hector,” spoke to him these words:
“Ah! love, thy bravery will be thy bane,
And, seeking glory, thou forgettest him
And me, ah! hapless me when thou art gone!
Soon, soon, I know it, all the foes of Troy,
Rushing on thee at once, shall take thy life. ”

“ For to-day she breathes what to her is the first of a nation’s breath,
As she lies ’neath the gaze of the sun, as a bride, or a child new-born,
Lies with fair motionless limbs in the beautiful semblance of death,
Yet awake with the joy of a bird that awakes with the whisper of morn. ”

“ Then with the veil he seeks the trysting-tree,
And to its cherished folds gives kisses, tears,
And to his sword, “Drink now my blood,” he cries,
And sinks it in his heart, and draws it forth,
And falling, lies at length with upturned face.
The blood spurts forth, as when a pipe that’s burst
Throws from the hissing gap a slender jet,
Beating the obstant air with watery blows.
The trysting-tree is sprinkled with his blood,
Till its fair fruit is changed to gloomy black. ”

“ The image of a ruler sent of God,—
The people still shall look in whoso reigns.
And if there be a King of soul impure—
Or if there be a King of hand unjust—
Or if there be a King who weighs himself
Against the nation’s weal (such Kings there are
And ever shall be until Arthur wake) ,—
It is the real King the people serve,
The Blameless Prince that never can do wrong,
And not the false usurper of his name.”
Then, wondering much, broke in Sir Bedivere:
“O Merlin, thou art far too wise for me,
Though well I love thy speech. ”

“ Around him thronged the chiefs of Pethor-land
And others, from afar, who came to hear
The wisdom God had given to his lips.
But he was still as humble as the child
That played of yore amid the flowers, and drew
From their sweet breath the beauty of the good.
And as he spoke, they listened to his words
As to an angel’s: for his words were wise,
Wiser than all the wisdom of the East. ”

“ Beneath the guidance of the Blameless Prince,
The crystal image of his ample mind,
The home of what is best in every clime;
And thither, from all lands beneath the sun,
Shall crowd the patient workers in all arts,
Bringing the treasures of their skill. The hands
Of many nations with a brother’s clasp
Shall join together; and the Babel tongues
Of Eastern, Western, Northern, Southern lands
Shall strive no more in discord, but, as one,{19}
Shall make harmonious music, as of yore
The sound of four great rivers rose and fell
Through fragrant splendours in the Eden-world. ”

“ But Merlin, ere he answered, staunched his wound,
And gave him wine out of a golden flask,
And, by the healing art which he possessed,
Restored him sound and whole. And then he spake:
“There is no need to tell me, for I know
All thou would’st say, and knew ere thou wast born
That all these things should be. But weep no more,
Sir Bedivere. The past no man can change,
Nor make what has been other than it is. ”

“ Whence thou mayest see the spouse of thy youth, thy friends and thy kindred.
Thou knowest I never blamed thee; I blame the gods of Olympus,
Who excited this war of sorrows and tears without number.
Come, Helen, sit by my side, and tell me the name of yon hero,
Mighty and stately in mien. Though others around him are taller,
One of such beauty as his and of so majestic a bearing
I have never beheld. If he is not a king he is kingly.”{199}
Then Helen, fairest of women, answered the King: “O my father,
Father of Paris, by me thou art loved and revered and respected! ”

“ O, Balaam, rouse thee!
Thou art, e’en yet, God’s prophet! He has shewn
His will to none more clearly than to thee.
What is it He requireth at thy hands?
Be true and honest, pure and merciful,
Having thy heart aflame with faith and love,
Still walking humbly, as though prone to fall—
Guarding thine eyes from covetous wanderings,
Deeming God’s gifts more beautiful than man’s—
And he will keep thee right in all thy ways.
Oh! what is Balak’s honour, Balak’s gold,
To Balaam, if the Highest be his friend,{65}
Who owns the wealth and beauty of the world? ”

“ Nor all my brethren’s who shall bite the dust
’Neath bitter foes, touch me so much as thine,
When some one of the brass-mailed Greeks shall end
Thy days of freedom, leading thee away
In tears; and, haply, in far Argos, thou
May’st tend another’s loom or water draw
From Hyperea’s or Messeis’ fount,—
A slavish duty forced on thee by fate.
And some one, looking on thy tears, may say:
‘She was the wife of Hector, who excelled
In fight among the chiefs that fought for Troy.’
And thy poor heart will ache with vain regret
For him whose strong right arm would keep thee free. ”

“ Warring with heathen foes; and lonely hearths
Shall sorrow for the dead who come no more.{22}
And, one war over, others shall succeed,
And others; and the blaze of burning towns
Shall blot the moon out of the midnight sky.
And some will say: ‘Now is the end at hand
Of all things, and the whole fair world is doomed
To sink in ashy nothingness. The wrath
Of God is kindled for the sins of men.’
But when the fiery wave of war has washed
The world, as gold from which the dross is burned,
The nations shall rise purer, and men’s hearts
Shall fear the touch of wrong ”

“ No man descends to Hades ere his time,
And none whoe’er is born escapes his fate,
Whether his heart be cowardly or brave.
But, love, returning home, apply thyself
To household duties, and thy handmaidens
Despatch to theirs, the distaff and the loom.
For war must be the business of men,
And of all men that have been born in Troy,
This war has need of none so much as me.”
Thus having spoken, noble Hector placed
The waving helmet on his head again.
And, silently, Andromache returned
(Oft looking back through her fast-gushing tears)
To the fair mansion of her warrior spouse. ”

“ THE PROPHECY OF MERLIN.
Sir Bedivere, in silence, watched the barge
That bore away King Arthur to the vale
Of Avalon, till it was seen no more.
Then, on the beach, alone amid the dead,
He lifted up his voice and sorely wept.
“Alas!” he cried, “gone are the pleasant days
At Camelot, and the sweet fellowship
Of noble knights and true, and beauteous dames
Who have no peers in all the living world,
Is quite dissolved for ever, and the King
Has gone and left none like him among men. ”

“ That infuse the spirit-leaven
Into nascent, infant brains,
That can make them dull or wise,
Forging subtle mental chains
That must bind us until death,
As ye calmly glitter o’er us,
When we draw our primal breath!
Mixing qualities together,
Just according to the weather,
Just according to the season,
And the point of daily time,
Noon or even, night or morn,
That we happen to be born,
For some sage, sidereal reason,
Which some sophomores call “chance,”
Some the “force of circumstance!” ”

“ But as the ages pass, these foes shall join
In friendship, and a nation shall arise,
Like a strong oak amid the forest trees,
Which, growing slowly, ceases not to grow,
But fastens firmly, as it aims aloft,
And spreads its branches far on every side,
A shelter to the stranger of all lands—
While Arthur still sleeps on in Avalon. ”

“ Whispering and catching soft replies in turn,
“O envious wall, that standest in our way,
Who love each other!” they would, vexed, exclaim,
“If thou would’st let us meet full face to face,
Or e’en enough to touch each other’s lips!
And yet we are not thankless; ’tis to thee
We owe this pleasure of exchanging words.”
Thus oft conversing, at approach of night,
They said “farewell,” and kissed with longing lips,
That never met, the wall that stood between;
And when Aurora quenched the fires of night,
And Phœbus dried the dew upon the grass,
They came again unto the trysting place. ”

“ And we gaze till hope’s bright glory is kindled in our eyes,
And earth becomes an Eden full of beauty and delight,
Where the air is far too happy to bear any weight of sighs,
And myriad forms of gentle things bring gladness to the sight. ”

“ The glory in our eyes that shone is dimmed with bitter tears,
And our Eden-flowers have faded into nothingness again;
And we wander sadly, darkly, through a labyrinth of years,
And we call for vanished faces, and act wildly in our pain. ”

“ Start rainbow-like from Sorrow’s falling tears,
Spanning with hues of Heaven all my years.
XIII.
And as I ope the temple of my heart
And seek its inmost and its holiest shrine,
Still there, my love, my darling one, thou art,—
There still I worship thee and call thee mine;
And this sweet anthem all that temple fills—
“Love cannot lose, ’tis loss of love that kills.”
[Postscript.] XIV.
What cry was that which woke me from my dream? ”

“ And the breath from his lips is as sweet
As the breath of wet flowers at morn.
IX. 1.
The mountains raise their faces
Up to the face of God;
They are fresh with balmy graces
And with flowers their feet are shod. ”

“ And at the great Spring day,
When melted are the powers
That hide our souls in clay,
As winter hides the flowers,
May we wreathe amaranths with them in Eden’s choicest bowers.”{130}
HOPE.
She touched me in my sorrow; I awoke.
Her kind hands broke the fetters of my grief;
The light of smiles shone round me, as she spoke:
“I come, my friend, to bring thee sweet relief.
Of those that minister, I am the chief,
To man’s sick heart; I made the tears of Eve
Bright with the hues of Heaven, when loth to leave
The joys her disobedience made so brief. ”

“ Sitting, more honour was due to the thoughtful brow of Ulysses.
And when they wove, for the general ear, their thoughts into language,
Menelaus harangued very freely and briefly, and clearly,
Never missing his words, nor misapplying their meaning,
Though, as to years, not yet was he reckoned among the elders.
But when Ulysses arose, with his head full of wariest measures,
Standing, he fixed his eyes on the ground, and kept looking downwards,
Moving his sceptre nor backwards nor forwards, but holding it firmly,
Looking like one not wise ”

“ If thou have patience with my blunter sense
(For I am but a knight, and thou, a sage,{26}
And knowest all things) —prithee, tell me, Merlin,
If, in the far-off after-time, shall come
A Prince who shall be known by Arthur’s name,
And bear it blamelessly as he did his.”
Then, Merlin, with a wise smile on his face,
Such as a mother wears who gently tries
To answer the hard question of her child,
Answered Sir Bedivere: “Thou askest well,
And fain am I to answer. That good Prince
Of whom I spake—Albert, the Blameless Prince—
Shall be the head of many dynasties. ”

“ To win the golden smiles the Sun sends gleaming thro’ the sky;
And tho’ the flowers are dead and gone, one garden seems the earth,
For, in God’s world, as one charm dies, another starts to birth.
II.
To every season is its own peculiar beauty given,
In every age of mortal men we see the Hand of Heaven;
And century to century utters a glorious speech,
And peace to war, and war to peace, eternal lessons teach.
{100}
III.
O grand, old woods, your forest-sires were thus as bright and gay,
Before the axe’s murderous voice had spoiled their sylvan play ”

“ From which is no return. Alas! alas!
How oft have I, who ever love the good,
The pure, the brave and wise, wept bitter tears,
As they have passed me, joyous in their course,
And we have held sweet converse, as I thought
How soon their faces would be seen no more!
Sad, sad, Sir Bedivere, the prophet’s gift,
Who sees the evil which he cannot heal!”
And then a gloom o’ershadowed Merlin’s face,
That caused Sir Bedivere to pity him ”

“ But thou art father, mother, brother, spouse,
My pride, my Hector! Oh! then, pity me!{185}
Stay here and watch with me upon this tower,—
Stay, stay, my Hector, go not hence to make
Thy child an orphan and a widow me!
But set the forces by the Fig-tree Hill,
Where the chief risk of hostile entrance lies,
And where the wall is weakest. At that point
Already have the bravest of our foes—
Idomeneus and either Ajax, Diomede,
And the two sons of Atreus—made assault,
Whether incited thither by some voice
Prophetic, or high hope of victory. ”

“ But when the tenth rose-fingered morn had come,
He asked him for his message and the sign
Whate’er he bore from Prœtus,—which he gave.
And when he broke the evil-boding seal,
He first enjoined him the Chimæra dire{210}
To slay,—of race divine and not of men,
In front a lion, dragon in the rear,
And goat between, whose breath was as the strength
Of fiercely blazing fire. And this he slew,
Trusting the portents of the gods. And next
He conquered the wild, far-famed Solymi,—
The hardest battle fought with mortal men. ”

“ VIII.
But, ah! earth’s brightest joys are bought with pain:
Meeting with parting,—smiles with bitter tears,—
Hope ends in sorrow,—loss succeeds to gain,—
And youth’s gay spring-time leads to wintry years;
Nought lives that dies not in the world’s wide range,
And nothing is unchangeable but change.
{51}
IX.
My bliss was o’er. ”