The Golden Helm Part 8

Though King and lords looked, wondering, in a glance Queen Hild had read the sorrow of his face And pierced the leaf-hid secret--which e'ermore A brand of fire upon her heart would trace.

Darkness about her swirled, but, with a fierce Wild, conquering shudder, shaking herself free, Unto the light she clung, though like a sea It surged and eddied round her; yet so still She sat, none knew her steely eyes could pierce The leafy screen. With guilty terror chill, She heard the king speak--sadly riding forth: "Whence come you, Philip, battle-stained and slow?

What burden bear you with such brows of woe?"

Then Philip answered, mournfully: "I bring Two wanderers home from out the perilous north.

Prepare to gaze on death's defeat, O King."

They lowered the litter slowly to the ground; Back fell the branches; in the light of day, In calm, white sleep Christine and Geoffrey lay, And at their feet the baleful Helm of Strife Sword-cloven. Hushed stood all the knights around, When spake the King, alighting: "Come, O wife, And let us twain, with humble heads low-bowed, Even at the feet of love triumphant stand, A little while together, hand in hand."

The Queen obeyed; but, fearfully, she shrank Before the eyes of death, and, quaking, cowed, With moaning cry, low in the dust she sank.