And Vivien answered smiling mournfully: "O mine have ebbed away for evermore, And all through following you to this wild wood, Because I saw you sad, to comfort you.
Lo now, what hearts have men! they never mount As high as woman in her selfless mood.
And touching fame, howe"er ye scorn my song, Take one verse more--the lady speaks it--this:
""My name, once mine, now thine, is closelier mine, For fame, could fame be mine, that fame were thine, And shame, could shame be thine, that shame were mine.
So trust me not at all or all in all."
"Says she not well? and there is more--this rhyme Is like the fair pearl-necklace of the Queen, That burst in dancing, and the pearls were spilt; Some lost, some stolen, some as relics kept.
But nevermore the same two sister pearls Ran down the silken thread to kiss each other On her white neck--so is it with this rhyme: It lives dispersedly in many hands, And every minstrel sings it differently; Yet is there one true line, the pearl of pearls: "Man dreams of Fame while woman wakes to love."
Yea! Love, though Love were of the grossest, carves A portion from the solid present, eats And uses, careless of the rest; but Fame, The Fame that follows death is nothing to us; And what is Fame in life but half-disfame, And counterchanged with darkness? ye yourself Know well that Envy calls you Devil"s son, And since ye seem the Master of all Art, They fain would make you Master of all vice."
And Merlin locked his hand in hers and said, "I once was looking for a magic weed, And found a fair young squire who sat alone, Had carved himself a knightly shield of wood, And then was painting on it fancied arms, Azure, an Eagle rising or, the Sun In dexter chief; the scroll "I follow fame."
And speaking not, but leaning over him I took his brush and blotted out the bird, And made a Gardener putting in a graff, With this for motto, "Rather use than fame."
You should have seen him blush; but afterwards He made a stalwart knight. O Vivien, For you, methinks you think you love me well; For me, I love you somewhat; rest: and Love Should have some rest and pleasure in himself, Not ever be too curious for a boon, Too prurient for a proof against the grain Of him ye say ye love: but Fame with men, Being but ampler means to serve mankind, Should have small rest or pleasure in herself, But work as va.s.sal to the larger love, That dwarfs the petty love of one to one.
Use gave me Fame at first, and Fame again Increasing gave me use. Lo, there my boon!
What other? for men sought to prove me vile, Because I fain had given them greater wits: And then did Envy call me Devil"s son: The sick weak beast seeking to help herself By striking at her better, missed, and brought Her own claw back, and wounded her own heart.
Sweet were the days when I was all unknown, But when my name was lifted up, the storm Brake on the mountain and I cared not for it.
Right well know I that Fame is half-disfame, Yet needs must work my work. That other fame, To one at least, who hath not children, vague, The cackle of the unborn about the grave, I cared not for it: a single misty star, Which is the second in a line of stars That seem a sword beneath a belt of three, I never gazed upon it but I dreamt Of some vast charm concluded in that star To make fame nothing. Wherefore, if I fear, Giving you power upon me through this charm, That you might play me falsely, having power, However well ye think ye love me now (As sons of kings loving in pupilage Have turned to tyrants when they came to power) I rather dread the loss of use than fame; If you--and not so much from wickedness, As some wild turn of anger, or a mood Of overstrained affection, it may be, To keep me all to your own self,--or else A sudden spurt of woman"s jealousy,-- Should try this charm on whom ye say ye love."
And Vivien answered smiling as in wrath: "Have I not sworn? I am not trusted. Good!
Well, hide it, hide it; I shall find it out; And being found take heed of Vivien.
A woman and not trusted, doubtless I Might feel some sudden turn of anger born Of your misfaith; and your fine epithet Is accurate too, for this full love of mine Without the full heart back may merit well Your term of overstrained. So used as I, My daily wonder is, I love at all.
And as to woman"s jealousy, O why not?
O to what end, except a jealous one, And one to make me jealous if I love, Was this fair charm invented by yourself?
I well believe that all about this world Ye cage a buxom captive here and there, Closed in the four walls of a hollow tower From which is no escape for evermore."
Then the great Master merrily answered her: "Full many a love in loving youth was mine; I needed then no charm to keep them mine But youth and love; and that full heart of yours Whereof ye prattle, may now a.s.sure you mine; So live uncharmed. For those who wrought it first, The wrist is parted from the hand that waved, The feet unmortised from their ankle-bones Who paced it, ages back: but will ye hear The legend as in guerdon for your rhyme?
"There lived a king in the most Eastern East, Less old than I, yet older, for my blood Hath earnest in it of far springs to be.
A tawny pirate anch.o.r.ed in his port, Whose bark had plundered twenty nameless isles; And pa.s.sing one, at the high peep of dawn, He saw two cities in a thousand boats All fighting for a woman on the sea.
And pushing his black craft among them all, He lightly scattered theirs and brought her off, With loss of half his people arrow-slain; A maid so smooth, so white, so wonderful, They said a light came from her when she moved: And since the pirate would not yield her up, The King impaled him for his piracy; Then made her Queen: but those isle-nurtured eyes Waged such unwilling though successful war On all the youth, they sickened; councils thinned, And armies waned, for magnet-like she drew The rustiest iron of old fighters" hearts; And beasts themselves would worship; camels knelt Unbidden, and the brutes of mountain back That carry kings in castles, bowed black knees Of homage, ringing with their serpent hands, To make her smile, her golden ankle-bells.
What wonder, being jealous, that he sent His horns of proclamation out through all The hundred under-kingdoms that he swayed To find a wizard who might teach the King Some charm, which being wrought upon the Queen Might keep her all his own: to such a one He promised more than ever king has given, A league of mountain full of golden mines, A province with a hundred miles of coast, A palace and a princess, all for him: But on all those who tried and failed, the King p.r.o.nounced a dismal sentence, meaning by it To keep the list low and pretenders back, Or like a king, not to be trifled with-- Their heads should moulder on the city gates.
And many tried and failed, because the charm Of nature in her overbore their own: And many a wizard brow bleached on the walls: And many weeks a troop of carrion crows Hung like a cloud above the gateway towers."
And Vivien breaking in upon him, said: "I sit and gather honey; yet, methinks, Thy tongue has tript a little: ask thyself.
The lady never made unwilling war With those fine eyes: she had her pleasure in it, And made her good man jealous with good cause.
And lived there neither dame nor damsel then Wroth at a lover"s loss? were all as tame, I mean, as n.o.ble, as the Queen was fair?
Not one to flirt a venom at her eyes, Or pinch a murderous dust into her drink, Or make her paler with a poisoned rose?
Well, those were not our days: but did they find A wizard? Tell me, was he like to thee?
She ceased, and made her lithe arm round his neck Tighten, and then drew back, and let her eyes Speak for her, glowing on him, like a bride"s On her new lord, her own, the first of men.
He answered laughing, "Nay, not like to me.
At last they found--his foragers for charms-- A little gla.s.sy-headed hairless man, Who lived alone in a great wild on gra.s.s; Read but one book, and ever reading grew So grated down and filed away with thought, So lean his eyes were monstrous; while the skin Clung but to crate and basket, ribs and spine.
And since he kept his mind on one sole aim, Nor ever touched fierce wine, nor tasted flesh, Nor owned a sensual wish, to him the wall That sunders ghosts and shadow-casting men Became a crystal, and he saw them through it, And heard their voices talk behind the wall, And learnt their elemental secrets, powers And forces; often o"er the sun"s bright eye Drew the vast eyelid of an inky cloud, And lashed it at the base with slanting storm; Or in the noon of mist and driving rain, When the lake whitened and the pinewood roared, And the cairned mountain was a shadow, sunned The world to peace again: here was the man.
And so by force they dragged him to the King.
And then he taught the King to charm the Queen In such-wise, that no man could see her more, Nor saw she save the King, who wrought the charm, Coming and going, and she lay as dead, And lost all use of life: but when the King Made proffer of the league of golden mines, The province with a hundred miles of coast, The palace and the princess, that old man Went back to his old wild, and lived on gra.s.s, And vanished, and his book came down to me."
And Vivien answered smiling saucily: "Ye have the book: the charm is written in it: Good: take my counsel: let me know it at once: For keep it like a puzzle chest in chest, With each chest locked and padlocked thirty-fold, And whelm all this beneath as vast a mound As after furious battle turfs the slain On some wild down above the windy deep, I yet should strike upon a sudden means To dig, pick, open, find and read the charm: Then, if I tried it, who should blame me then?"
And smiling as a master smiles at one That is not of his school, nor any school But that where blind and naked Ignorance Delivers brawling judgments, unashamed, On all things all day long, he answered her:
"Thou read the book, my pretty Vivien!
O ay, it is but twenty pages long, But every page having an ample marge, And every marge enclosing in the midst A square of text that looks a little blot, The text no larger than the limbs of fleas; And every square of text an awful charm, Writ in a language that has long gone by.
So long, that mountains have arisen since With cities on their flanks--thou read the book!
And ever margin scribbled, crost, and crammed With comment, densest condensation, hard To mind and eye; but the long sleepless nights Of my long life have made it easy to me.
And none can read the text, not even I; And none can read the comment but myself; And in the comment did I find the charm.
O, the results are simple; a mere child Might use it to the harm of anyone, And never could undo it: ask no more: For though you should not prove it upon me, But keep that oath ye sware, ye might, perchance, a.s.say it on some one of the Table Round, And all because ye dream they babble of you."
And Vivien, frowning in true anger, said: "What dare the full-fed liars say of me?
They ride abroad redressing human wrongs!
They sit with knife in meat and wine in horn!
They bound to holy vows of chast.i.ty!
Were I not woman, I could tell a tale.
But you are man, you well can understand The shame that cannot be explained for shame.
Not one of all the drove should touch me: swine!"
Then answered Merlin careless of her words: "You breathe but accusation vast and vague, Spleen-born, I think, and proofless. If ye know, Set up the charge ye know, to stand or fall!"
And Vivien answered frowning wrathfully: "O ay, what say ye to Sir Valence, him Whose kinsman left him watcher o"er his wife And two fair babes, and went to distant lands; Was one year gone, and on returning found Not two but three? there lay the reckling, one But one hour old! What said the happy sire?"
A seven-months" babe had been a truer gift.
Those twelve sweet moons confused his fatherhood."
Then answered Merlin, "Nay, I know the tale.
Sir Valence wedded with an outland dame: Some cause had kept him sundered from his wife: One child they had: it lived with her: she died: His kinsman travelling on his own affair Was charged by Valence to bring home the child.
He brought, not found it therefore: take the truth."
"O ay," said Vivien, "overtrue a tale.
What say ye then to sweet Sir Sagramore, That ardent man? "to pluck the flower in season,"
So says the song, "I trow it is no treason."
O Master, shall we call him overquick To crop his own sweet rose before the hour?"
And Merlin answered, "Overquick art thou To catch a loathly plume fallen from the wing Of that foul bird of rapine whose whole prey Is man"s good name: he never wronged his bride.
I know the tale. An angry gust of wind Puffed out his torch among the myriad-roomed And many-corridored complexities Of Arthur"s palace: then he found a door, And darkling felt the sculptured ornament That wreathen round it made it seem his own; And wearied out made for the couch and slept, A stainless man beside a stainless maid; And either slept, nor knew of other there; Till the high dawn piercing the royal rose In Arthur"s cas.e.m.e.nt glimmered chastely down, Blushing upon them blushing, and at once He rose without a word and parted from her: But when the thing was blazed about the court, The brute world howling forced them into bonds, And as it chanced they are happy, being pure."
"O ay," said Vivien, "that were likely too.
What say ye then to fair Sir Percivale And of the horrid foulness that he wrought, The saintly youth, the spotless lamb of Christ, Or some black wether of St Satan"s fold.
What, in the precincts of the chapel-yard, Among the knightly bra.s.ses of the graves, And by the cold Hic Jacets of the dead!"
And Merlin answered careless of her charge, "A sober man is Percivale and pure; But once in life was fl.u.s.tered with new wine, Then paced for coolness in the chapel-yard; Where one of Satan"s shepherdesses caught And meant to stamp him with her master"s mark; And that he sinned is not believable; For, look upon his face!--but if he sinned, The sin that practice burns into the blood, And not the one dark hour which brings remorse, Will brand us, after, of whose fold we be: Or else were he, the holy king, whose hymns Are chanted in the minster, worse than all.
But is your spleen frothed out, or have ye more?"
And Vivien answered frowning yet in wrath: "O ay; what say ye to Sir Lancelot, friend Traitor or true? that commerce with the Queen, I ask you, is it clamoured by the child, Or whispered in the corner? do ye know it?"
To which he answered sadly, "Yea, I know it.
Sir Lancelot went amba.s.sador, at first, To fetch her, and she watched him from her walls.
A rumour runs, she took him for the King, So fixt her fancy on him: let them be.
But have ye no one word of loyal praise For Arthur, blameless King and stainless man?"
She answered with a low and chuckling laugh: "Man! is he man at all, who knows and winks?