Accolon of Gaul, with Other Poems - Cawein Madison Julius

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to her eyes with carnage, growling crawled; —

      By some tall damsels tiremaids of some queen

      Stately and dark, who moved as if a sheen

      Of starlight spread her presence; and she came

      With healing herbs and searched my wounds. A dame

      So marvelous in raiment silvery

      I feared lest some attendant chaste were she

      To that high Holy Grael, which Arthur hath

      Sought ever widely by hoar wood and path; —

      Thus not for me, a worldly one, to love,

      Who loved her even to wonder; skied above

      His worship as our moon above the Main,

      That passions upward yearning in great pain,

      And suffers wearily from year to year,

      She peaceful pitiless with virgin cheer. —

      Ah, ideal love, as merciless as fate!

      And, oh, that savage aching which must wait

      For its fulfillment, tortured love in tears,

      Until that beauty dreamed of many years

      Bends over one from luminous skies, so grand

      One's weakness fears to touch its mastering hand,

      And hesitates and stammers nothings weak,

      And loves and loves with love that can not speak!

      Ah, there's the tyranny that breeds despair;

      Breaks hearts whose strong youth by one golden hair

      Coiled 'round the throat is sooner strangled dumb

      Than by a glancing dagger thrust from gloom

      Of an old arras at the very hour

      One thought one safest in one's guarded tower. —

      Thus, Morgane, worshiping that lady I

      Was speechless; longing now to live, now die,

      As her fine face suggested secrets of

      Some passion kin to mine, or scorn of love

      That dragged heroic humbleness to her feet,

      For one long look that spake and made such sweet.

      Ah, never dreamed I of what was to be, —

      Nay! nay! how could I? while that agony

      Of doubtful love denied my heart too much,

      Too much to dream of that perfection such

      As was to grant me boisterous hours of life

      And sever all the past as with a knife!

      "One night a tempest scourged and beat and lashed

      The writhing forest and vast thunders crashed

      Clamorous with clubs of leven, and anon,

      Between the thunder pauses, seas would groan

      Like some enormous curse a knight hath lured

      From where it soared to maim it with his sword.

      I, with eyes partly lidded, seemed to see

      That cloudy, wide-wrenched night's eternity

      Yawn hells of golden ghastliness; and sweep

      Distending foams tempestuous up each steep

      Of furious iron, where pale mermaids sit

      With tangled hair black-blown, who, bit by bit,

      Chant glimmering; beckoning on to strangling arms

      Some hurt bark hurrying in the ravenous storm's

      Resistless exultation; till there came

      One breaker mounting inward, all aflame

      With glow-worm green, to boom against the cliff

      Its thunderous bulk – and there, sucked pale and stiff,

      Tumbled in eddies up the howling rocks

      My dead, drawn face; eyes lidless; matted locks

      Oozed close with brine; tossed upward merrily

      By streaming mermaids. – Madly seemed to see

      The vampire echoes of the hoarse wood, who,

      Collected, sought me; down the casement drew

      Wet, shuddering fingers sharply; thronging fast

      Up hooting turrets, fell thick screaming, cast

      Down bastioned battlements trooped whistling off;

      From the wild woodland growled a backward scoff. —

      Then far away, hoofs of a thousand gales,

      As wave rams wave up windy bluffs of Wales,

      Loosed from the groaning hills, the cohorts loud,

      Spirits of thunder, charioteered of cloud,

      Roared down the rocking night cored with the glare

      Of fiery eyeballs swimming; their drenched hair

      Blown black as rain unkempt back from black brows,

      Wide mouths of storm that voiced a hell carouse

      And bulged tight cheeks with wind, rolled riotous by

      Ruining to ruinous cliffs to headlong die.

      "Once when the lightning made the casement glare

      Squares touched to gold, between it rose her hair,

      As if a raven's wing had cut the storm

      Death-driven seaward; and a vague alarm

      Stung me with terrors of surmise where hope

      As yet pruned weak wings crippled by their scope.

      And, lo, she kneeled low, radiant, wonderful,

      Lawn-raimented and white; kneeled low, – 'to lull

      These thoughts of night such storms might shape in thee,

      All such to peace and sleep,' – Ah, God! to see

      Her like a benediction fleshed! with her

      Hearing her voice! her cool hand wandering bare

      Wistful on feverish brow thro' long deep curls!

      To see her rich throat's carcaneted pearls

      Rise as her pulses! eyes' large influence

      Poured toward me straight as stars, whose sole defense

      Against all storm is their bold beauty! then

      To feel her breathe and hear her speak again!

      'Love, mark,' I said or dreamed I moaned in dreams,

      'How wails the tumult and the thunder gleams!

      As if of Arthur's knights had charged two fields

      Bright as sun-winds of dawn; swords, spears and shields

      Flashed lordly shocked; had, – to a man gone down

      In burst of battle hurled, – lain silent sown.

      Love, one eternal tempest thus with thee

      Were calm, dead calm! but, no! – for thee in me

      Such calm proves tempest. Speak; I feel thy voice

      Throb soft, caressing silence, healing noise.'

      "Is radiance loved of radiance? day of day?

      Lithe beam of beam and laughing ray of ray?

      Hope loved of hope and happiness of joy,

      Or love of love, who hath the world for toy?

      And thou – thou lov'st my voice? fond Accolon!

      Why not – yea, why not? – nay! – I prithee! –

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