--Ah! what lieth there by the side of the highway?
Is it death stains the sunlight, or sorrow or sickness?
[_Going up to PHARAMOND_.
--Not death, for he sleepeth; but beauty sore blemished By sorrow and sickness, and for all that the sweeter.
I will wait till he wakens and gaze on his beauty, Lest I never again in the world should behold him.
--Maybe I may help him; he is sick and needs tending, He is poor, and shall scorn not our simpleness surely.
Whence came he to us-ward--what like has his life been-- Who spoke to him last--for what is he longing?
--As one hearkening a story I wonder what cometh, And in what wise my voice to our homestead shall bid him.
O heart, how thou faintest with hope of the gladness I may have for a little if there he abide.
Soft there shalt thou sleep, love, and sweet shall thy dreams be, And sweet thy awaking amidst of the wonder Where thou art, who is nigh thee--and then, when thou seest How the rose-boughs hang in o"er the little loft window, And the blue bowl with roses is close to thine hand, And over thy bed is the quilt sewn with lilies, And the loft is hung round with the green Southland hangings, And all smelleth sweet as the low door is opened, And thou turnest to see me there standing, and holding Such dainties as may be, thy new hunger to stay-- Then well may I hope that thou wilt not remember Thine old woes for a moment in the freshness and pleasure, And that I shall be part of thy rest for a little.
And then---who shall say--wilt thou tell me thy story, And what thou hast loved, and for what thou hast striven?
--Thou shalt see me, and my love and my pity, as thou speakest, And it may be thy pity shall mingle with mine.
--And meanwhile--Ah, love, what hope may my heart hold?
For I see that thou lovest, who ne"er hast beheld me.
And how should thy love change, howe"er the world changeth?
Yet meanwhile, had I dreamed of the bliss of this minute, How might I have borne to live weary and waiting!
Woe"s me! do I fear thee? else should I not wake thee, For tending thou needest--If my hand touched thy hand [_Touching him._ I should fear thee the less.--O sweet friend, forgive it, My hand and my tears, for faintly they touched thee!
He trembleth, and waketh not: O me, my darling!
Hope whispers that thou hear"st me through sleep, and wouldst waken, But for dread that thou dreamest and I should be gone.
Doth it please thee in dreaming that I tremble and dread thee, That these tears are the tears of one praying vainly, Who shall pray with no word when thou hast awakened?
--Yet how shall I deal with my life if he love not, As how should he love me, a stranger, unheard of?
--O bear witness, thou day that hast brought my love hither!
Thou sun that burst out through the mist o"er the mountains, In that moment mine eyes met the field of his sorrow-- Bear witness, ye fields that have fed me and clothed me, And air I have breathed, and earth that hast borne me-- Though I find you but shadows, and wrought but for fading, Though all ye and G.o.d fail me,--my love shall not fail!
Yea, even if this love, that seemeth such pleasure As earth is unworthy of, turneth to pain; If he wake without memory of me and my weeping, With a name on his lips not mine--that I know not: If thus my hand leave his hand for the last time, And no word from his lips be kind for my comfort-- If all speech fail between us, all sight fail me henceforth, If all hope and G.o.d fail me--my love shall not fail.
--Friend, I may not forbear: we have been here together: My hand on thy hand has been laid, and thou trembledst.
Think now if this May sky should darken above us, And the death of the world in this minute should part us-- Think, my love, of the loss if my lips had not kissed thee.
And forgive me my hunger of no hope begotten! [_She kisses him._
KING PHARAMOND (_awaking_)
Who art thou? who art thou, that my dream I might tell thee?
How with words full of love she drew near me, and kissed me.
O thou kissest me yet, and thou clingest about me!
Ah, kiss me and wake me into death and deliverance!
AZALAIS (_drawing away from him_)
Speak no rough word, I pray thee, for a little, thou loveliest!
But forgive me, for the years of my life have been lonely, And thou art come hither with the eyes of one seeking.
KING PHARAMOND
Sweet dream of old days, and her very lips speaking The words of my lips and the night season"s longing.
How might I have lived had I known what I longed for!
AZALAIS
I knew thou wouldst love, I knew all thy desire-- Am I she whom thou seekest? may I draw nigh again?
KING PHARAMOND
Ah, lengthen no more the years of my seeking, For thou knowest my love as thy love lies before me.
AZALAIS (_coming near to him again_)
O Love, there was fear in thine eyes as thou wakenedst; Thy first words were of dreaming and death--but we die not.
KING PHARAMOND
In thine eyes was a terror as thy lips" touches faded, Sore trembled thine arms as they fell away from me; And thy voice was grown piteous with words of beseeching, So that still for a little my search seemed unended.
--Ah, enending, unchanging desire fulfils me!
I cry out for thy comfort as thou clingest about me.
O joy hard to bear, but for memory of sorrow, But for pity of past days whose bitter is sweet now!
_Let us speak, love, together some word of our story, That our lips as they part may remember the glory._
AZALAIS
_O Love, kiss me into silence lest no word avail me; Stay my head with thy bosom lest breath and life fail me_.
THE MUSIC
_LOVE IS ENOUGH: while ye deemed him a-sleeping, There were signs of his coming and sounds of his feet; His touch it was that would bring you to weeping, When the summer was deepest and music most sweet: In his footsteps ye followed the day to its dying, Ye went forth by his gown-skirts the morning to meet: In his place on the beaten-down orchard-gra.s.s lying, Of the sweet ways ye pondered yet left for life"s trying.
Ah, what was all dreaming of pleasure anear you, To the time when his eyes on your wistful eyes turned, And ye saw his lips move, and his head bend to hear you, As new-born and glad to his kindness ye yearned?
Ah, what was all dreaming of anguish and sorrow, To the time when the world in his torment was burned, And no G.o.d your heart from its prison might borrow, And no rest was left, no to-day, no to-morrow?
All wonder of pleasure, all doubt of desire, All blindness, are ended, and no more ye feel If your feet tread his flowers or the flames of his fire, If your breast meet his balms or the edge of his steel.
Change is come, and past over, no more strife, no more learning: Now your lips and your forehead are sealed with his seal, Look backward and smile at the thorns and the burning.
--Sweet rest, O my soul, and no fear of returning!_
_Enter before the curtain LOVE, clad still as a Pilgrim_.
LOVE