The Poetical Works of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart. M.P Part 39

"'Can every leaf a teeming world contain, 20 In the least drop can race succeed to race, Yet one death-slumber in its dreamless reign Clasp all the illumed magnificence of s.p.a.ce-- Life crowd the drop--from air's vast seas effaced-- The leaf a world--the firmament a waste?'--

"And while Thought whisper'd, from thy s.h.i.+ning spring 21 The glorious answer murmur'd--'Soul of Man, Let the fount teach thee, and its struggle bring Truth to thy yearnings!--whither I began, Thither I tend; my law is to aspire: Spirit _thy_ source, be spirit _thy_ desire.'

"And I have made the life of spirit mine; 22 And, on the margin of my mortal grave, My soul, already in an air divine Ev'n in its terrors,--starlit, seeks to cleave Up to the height on which its source must be-- And falls again, in earthward showers, like thee.

"System on system climbing, sphere on sphere, 23 Upward for ever, ever, evermore, Can all eternity not bring more near?

Is it in vain that I have sought to soar?

Vain as the Has been, is the long To be?

Type of my soul, O fountain, answer me!"

And while he spoke, behold the night's soft flowers, 24 Scentless to day, awoke, and bloom'd, and breathed; Fed by the falling of the fountain's showers, Round its green marge the grateful garland wreathed; The fount might fail its source on high to gain-- But ask the blossom if it soared in vain!

The prophet mark'd, and, on his mighty brow, 25 Thought grew resign'd, serene, though mournful still.

Now ceased the vesper, and the branches now Stirr'd on the margin of the forest hill-- And Gawaine came into the starlit s.p.a.ce-- Slow was his step, and sullen was his face.

"What didst thou see?"--"The green-wood and the sky." 26 "What hear?"--"The light leaf dropping on the sward."

And now, with front elate and hopeful eye, Stood, in the starlight, Caradoc the bard; The prophet smiled on that fair face (akin Poet and prophet), "Child of Song, begin."

"I saw a glow-worm light his fairy lamp, 27 Close where a little torrent forced its way Through broad-leaved water-sedge, and alder damp; Above the glow-worm, from some lower spray Of the near mountain-ash, the silver song Of night's sweet chorister came clear and strong;

"No thrilling note of melancholy wail; 28 Ne'er pour'd the thrush more musical delight Through noon-day laurels, than that nightingale In the lone forest to the ear of Night-- Ev'n as the light web by Arachne spun, From bough to bough suspended in the sun,

"Ensnares the heedless insect,--so, methought 29 Midway in air my soul arrested hung In the melodious meshes; never aught To mortal lute was so divinely sung!

Surely, O prophet, these the sound and sign, Which make the lot, the search determines mine,"

"O self-deceit of man!" the soothsayer sigh'd, 30 "The worm but lent its funeral torch the ray; The night-bird's joy but hail'd the fatal guide, In the bright glimmer, to its thoughtless prey.

And thou, bold-eyed one--in the forest, what Met _thy_ firm footstep?"--Out spoke Lancelot--

"I pierced the forest till a pool I reach'd, 31 Ne'er mark'd before--a dark yet lucid wave; High from a blasted oak the night-owl screech'd, An otter crept from out its water-cave, The owl grew silent when it heard my tread-- The otter mark'd my shadow, and it fled.

"This all I saw, and all I heard."--"Rejoice" 32 The enchanter cried, "for thee the omens smile; On thee propitious Fate hath fix'd the choice; And thou the comrade in the glorious toil.

In death the poet only music heard; But death gave way when life's firm soldier stirr'd.

"Forth ride, a dauntless champion, with the morn; 33 But let the night the champion nerve with prayer; Higher and higher from the heron borne, Wheels thy brave falcon to the heavenliest air, Poises his wings, far towering o'er the foe, And hangs aloft, before he swoops below;

"Man let the falcon teach thee!--Now, from land 34 To land thy guide, receive this chrystal ring; See, in the chrystal moves a fairy hand, Still, where it moveth, moves the wandering King-- Or east, or north, or south, or west, where'er Points the sure hand, thy onward path be there!

"Thine hour comes soon, young Gawaine! to the port 35 The light heart boundeth o'er the stormiest wave; And thou, fair favourite[4] in the Fairy court, To whom its King a realm in fancy gave; Fear not from glory exiled long to be, What toil to others, Nature brings to thee."

Thus with kind word, well chosen, unto each 36 Spoke the benign enchanter; and the twain, Less favour'd, heart and comfort from his speech Hopeful conceived; the prophet up the plain, Gathering weird simples, pa.s.s'd--to Carduel they; And song escapes to Arthur's lonely way.

On towards the ocean-sh.o.r.e (for thus the seer 37 Enjoin'd) the royal knight, deep musing, rode; Winding green margins, till more near and near Unto the main the exulting river flow'd.

Here too a guide, when reach'd the mightier wave, The heedful promise of the prophet gave.

Where the sea flashes on the argent sands, 38 Soars from a lonely rock a snow-white dove: No bird more beauteous to immortal lands Bore Psyche rescued side by side with Love.

Ev'n as some thought which, pure of earthly taint, Springs from the chaste heart of a virgin saint.

It hovers in the heaven:--and from its wings 39 Shakes the clear dewdrops of unsullying seas; Then circling gently in slow-measured rings, Nearer and nearer to its goal it flees, And drooping, fearless, on that n.o.ble breast, Murmuring low joy, it coos itself to rest.

The grateful King, with many a soothing word, 40 And bland caress, the guileless trust repaid; When, gently gliding from his hand, the bird Went fluttering where the hollow headlands made A boat's small harbour; Arthur from the chain Released the raft,--it shot along the main.

Now in that boat, beneath the eyes of heaven, 41 Floated the three, the steed, the bird, the man; To favouring winds the little sail was given; The sh.o.r.e fail'd gradual, dwindling to a span; The steed bent wistful o'er the watery realm; And the white dove perch'd tranquil at the helm.

Haply by fisherman, its owner, left, 42 Within the boat were rude provisions stored; The yellow harvest from the wild bee reft, Bread, roots, dried fish, the luxuries of a board Health spreads for toil; while skins and flasks of reed Yield, these the water, those the strengthening mead.

Five days, five nights, still onward, onward o'er 43 Light-swelling waves, bounded the bark its way: At last the sun set reddening on a sh.o.r.e; Walls on the cliff, and war-s.h.i.+ps in the bay; While from bright towers, o'erlooking sea and plain, The Leopard-banners told the Vandal's reign.

Amid those s.h.i.+fting royalties, the North 44 Pour'd from its teeming breast, in tumult driven, Now to, now fro, as thunder-clouds sent forth To darken, burst,--and bursting, clear the heaven; Ere yet the Nomad nations found repose, And order dawn'd as Charlemain arose;

Amidst that ferment of fierce races, won 45 To yonder sh.o.r.es a wandering Vandal horde, Whose chief exchanged his war-tent for a throne, And shaped a sceptre from a conqueror's sword; His sons, expell'd by rude intestine broil, Sought that worst wilderness--the Stranger's soil.

A distant kinsman, Ludovick his name, 46 With them was exiled, and with them return'd.

A prince of popular and patriot fame; To roast his egg your house he would have burn'd!

A patriot soul no ties of kindred knows-- His kinsman's palace was the house he chose.

A patriot gamester playing for a Crown, 47 He watch'd the hazard with indifferent air, Rebuked well-wishers with a gentle frown, Then dropp'd the whisper--"What I win I share."

Who plays for power should make the odds so fall, That one man's luck should seem the gain of all.

The moment came, disorder split the realm; 48 Too stern the ruler, or too feebly stern; The supple kinsman slided to the helm, And trimm'd the rudder with a dexterous turn; A turn so dexterous, that it served to fling _Both_ overboard--the people and the king!

The captain's post repaid the pilot's task, 49 He seized the s.h.i.+p as he had cleared the prow; Drop we the metaphor as he the mask: And, while his gaping Vandals wonder'd how, Behold the patriot to the despot grown, Filch'd from the fight, and juggled to the throne!

And bland in words was wily Ludovick! 50 Much did he promise, nought did he fulfil; The trickster Fortune loves the hands that trick, And smiled approving on her conjuror's skill!

The promised freedom vanish'd in a tax, And bays, turn'd briars, scourged bewilder'd backs.

Soon is the landing of the stranger knight 51 Known at the court; and courteously the king Gives to his guest the hospitable rite; Heralds the tromp, and harpers wake the string; Rich robes of miniver the mail replace, And the bright banquet sparkles on the dais.

Where on the wall the cloth, goldwoven, glow'd, 52 Beside his chair of state, the Vandal lord Made room for that fair stranger, as he strode With a king's footstep, to the kingly board.

In robes so n.o.bly worn, the wise old man Saw some great soul, which cunning whisper'd "scan."

A portly presence had the realm-deceiver; 53 Ah eye urbane, a people-catching smile, A brow of webs the everlasting weaver, Where jovial frankness mask'd the serious guile; Each word, well aim'd, he feather'd with a jest, And, unsuspected, shot into the breast.

Gaily he welcomed Arthur to the feast, 54 And press'd the goblet, which unties the tongue; As the bowl circled so his speech increased, And chose such flatteries as seduce the young; Seeming in each kind question more to blend The fondling father with the anxious friend.

If frank the prince, esteem him not the less; 55 The soul of knighthood loves the truth of man; The boons he sought 'twas needful to suppress, Not mask the seeker; so the prince began-- "Arthur my name, from YNYS VEL[5] I come, And the steep homes of Cymri's Christendom.

"Five days ago, in Carduel's halls a king, 56 A lonely pilgrim now o'er lands and seas, I seek such fame as gallant deeds can bring, And hope from danger gifts denied to ease; Lore from experience, thought from toil to gain, And learn as man how best as king to reign."

The Vandal smiled, and praised the high design; 57 Then, careless, questioned of the Cymrian land: "Was earth propitious to the corn and vine?

Was the sun genial?--were the breezes bland?

Did gold and gem the mountain mines conceal?"-- "Our soil bears manhood, and our mountains steel,"

The Monarch answer'd; "and where these are found, 58 All plains yield harvests, and all mines the gold."-- "Your hills are doubtless," quoth the Vandal, "crown'd With castled tower, and fosse-defended hold?"-- "One hold the land--its mightiest fosse the sea; And its strong walls the bosoms of the free."

The Vandal mused, and thought the answers shrewd, 59 But little suited to the listeners by; So turn'd the subject, nor again renew'd Sharp questions blunted by such bold reply.

Now ceased the banquet; to a chamber, spread With fragrant heath, his guest the Vandal led.

With his own hand unclasp'd the mantle's fold, 60 And took his leave in blessings without number; Bade every angel shelter from the cold, And every saint watch sleepless o'er the slumber; Then his own chamber sought, and rack'd his breast To find some use to which to put the guest.