Matthew Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum and Other Poems Part 8

Sweet flower! thy children's eyes 325 Are not more innocent than thine.

But they sleep in shelter'd rest, Like helpless birds in the warm nest, On the castle's southern side; Where feebly comes the mournful roar 330 Of buffeting wind and surging tide Through many a room and corridor.

--Full on their window the moon's ray Makes their chamber as bright as day.

It s.h.i.+nes upon the blank white walls, 335 And on the snowy pillow falls, And on two angel-heads doth play Turn'd to each other--the eyes closed, The lashes on the cheeks reposed.

Round each sweet brow the cap close-set 340 Hardly lets peep the golden hair; Through the soft-open'd lips the air Scarcely moves the coverlet.

One little wandering arm is thrown At random on the counterpane, 345 And often the fingers close in haste As if their baby-owner chased The b.u.t.terflies again.

This stir they have, and this alone; 350 But else they are so still!

--Ah, tired madcaps! you lie still; But were you at the window now, To look forth on the fairy sight Of your illumined haunts by night, 355 To see the park-glades where you play Far lovelier than they are by day, To see the sparkle on the eaves, And upon every giant-bough Of those old oaks, whose wet red leaves 360 Are jewell'd with bright drops of rain-- How would your voices run again!

And far beyond the sparkling trees Of the castle-park one sees The bare heaths spreading, clear as day, 365 Moor behind moor, far, far away, Into the heart of Brittany.

And here and there, lock'd by the land, Long inlets of smooth glittering sea, And many a stretch of watery sand 370 All s.h.i.+ning in the white moon-beams-- But you see fairer in your dreams!

What voices are these on the clear night-air?

What lights in the court--what steps on the stair?

II

ISEULT OF IRELAND

_Tristram_. Raise the light, my page! that I may see her.-- Thou art come at last, then, haughty Queen!

Long I've waited, long I've fought my fever; Late thou comest, cruel thou hast been.

_Iseult_. Blame me not, poor sufferer! that I tarried; 5 Bound I was, I could not break the band.

Chide not with the past, but feel the present!

I am here--we meet--I hold thy hand.

_Tristram_. Thou art come, indeed--thou hast rejoin'd me; Thou hast dared it--but too late to save. 10 Fear not now that men should tax thine honour!

I am dying: build--(thou may'st)--my grave!

_Iseult_. Tristram, ah, for love of Heaven, speak kindly!

What, I hear these bitter words from thee?

Sick with grief I am, and faint with travel-- 15 Take my hand--dear Tristram, look on me!

_Tristram_. I forgot, thou comest from thy voyage-- Yes, the spray is on thy cloak and hair.

But thy dark eyes are not dimm'd, proud Iseult!

And thy beauty never was more fair. 20

_Iseult_. Ah, harsh flatterer! let alone my beauty!

I, like thee, have left my youth afar.

Take my hand, and touch these wasted fingers-- See my cheek and lips, how white they are!

_Tristram_. Thou art paler--but thy sweet charm, Iseult! 25 Would not fade with the dull years away.

Ah, how fair thou standest in the moonlight!

I forgive thee, Iseult!--thou wilt stay?

_Iseult_. Fear me not, I will be always with thee; I will watch thee, tend thee, soothe thy pain; 30 Sing thee tales of true, long-parted lovers, Join'd at evening of their days again.

_Tristram_. No, thou shalt not speak! I should be finding Something alter'd in thy courtly tone.

Sit--sit by me! I will think, we've lived so 35 In the green wood, all our lives, alone.

_Iseult_. Alter'd, Tristram? Not in courts, believe me, Love like mine is alter'd in the breast; Courtly life is light and cannot reach it-- Ah! it lives, because so deep-suppress'd! 40

What, thou think'st men speak in courtly chambers Words by which the wretched are consoled?

What, thou think'st this aching brow was cooler, Circled, Tristram, by a band of gold?

Royal state with Marc, my deep-wrong'd husband-- 45 That was bliss to make my sorrows flee!

Silken courtiers whispering honied nothings-- Those were friends to make me false to thee!

Ah, on which, if both our lots were balanced, Was indeed the heaviest burden thrown-- 50 Thee, a pining exile in thy forest, Me, a smiling queen upon my throne?

Vain and strange debate, where both have suffer'd, Both have pa.s.s'd a youth consumed and sad, Both have brought their anxious day to evening, 55 And have now short s.p.a.ce for being glad!

Join'd we are henceforth; nor will thy people, Nor thy younger Iseult take it ill, That a former rival shares her office, When she sees her humbled, pale, and still. 60

I, a faded watcher by thy pillow, I, a statue on thy chapel-floor, Pour'd in prayer before the Virgin-Mother, Rouse no anger, make no rivals more.

She will cry: "Is this the foe I dreaded? 65 This his idol? this that royal bride?

Ah, an hour of health would purge his eyesight!

Stay, pale queen! for ever by my side."

Hush, no words! that smile, I see, forgives me.

I am now thy nurse, I bid thee sleep. 70 Close thine eyes--this flooding moonlight blinds them!-- Nay, all's well again! thou must not weep.

_Tristram_. I am happy! yet I feel, there's something Swells my heart, and takes my breath away.

Through a mist I see thee; near--come nearer! 75 Bend--bend down!--I yet have much to say.

_Iseult_. Heaven! his head sinks back upon the pillow-- Tristram! Tristram! let thy heart not fail!

Call on G.o.d and on the holy angels!

What, love, courage!--Christ! he is so pale. 80

_Tristram_. Hush, 'tis vain, I feel my end approaching!

This is what my mother said should be, When the fierce pains took her in the forest, The deep draughts of death, in bearing me.

"Son," she said, "thy name shall be of sorrow; 85 Tristram art thou call'd for my death's sake."

So she said, and died in the drear forest.

Grief since then his home with me doth make. 88

I am dying.--Start not, nor look wildly!

Me, thy living friend, thou canst not save. 90 But, since living we were ununited, Go not far, O Iseult! from my grave.

Close mine eyes, then seek the princess Iseult; Speak her fair, she is of royal blood!

Say, I will'd so, that thou stay beside me-- 95 She will grant it; she is kind and good.

Now to sail the seas of death I leave thee-- One last kiss upon the living sh.o.r.e!

_Iseult_. Tristram!--Tristram!--stay--receive me with thee!

Iseult leaves thee, Tristram! never more. 100