Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series)

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Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Page 139

by Algernon Charles Swinburne


  And still with subtly tempered tale

  His wile held fast the foe.

  With woven words of magic might

  Wherein the subtle shadow and light

  Changed hope and fear till fear took flight,

  He stayed King Lot’s fierce lust of fight

  Till all the wild Welsh war was driven

  As foam before the wind that wakes

  With the all-awakening sun, and breaks

  Strong ships that rue the mirth it makes

  When grace to slay is given.

  And ever hotter lit and higher,

  As fire that meets encountering fire,

  Waxed in King Lot his keen desire

  To bid revenge within him tire

  On Arthur’s ravaged fame and life:

  Across the waves of war between

  Floated and flashed, unseen and seen,

  The lustrous likeness of the queen

  Whom shame had sealed his wife.

  But when the woful word was brought

  That while he tarried, doubting nought,

  The hope was lost whose goal he sought

  And all the fight he yearned for fought,

  His heart was rent for grief and shame,

  And half his hope was set on flight

  Till word was given him of a knight

  Who said: “They are weary and worn with fight,

  And we more fresh than flame.”

  And bright and dark as night and day

  Ere either find the unopening way

  Clear, and forego the unaltering sway,

  The sad king’s face shone, frowning: “Yea,

  I would that every knight of mine

  Would do his part as I shall do,”

  He said, “till death or life anew

  Shall judge between us as is due

  With wiser doom than thine.”

  Then thundered all the awakening field

  With crash of hosts that clashed and reeled,

  Banner to banner, shield to shield,

  And spear to splintering spear-shaft, steeled

  As heart against high heart of man,

  As hope against high hope of knight

  To pluck the crest and crown of fight

  From war’s clenched hand by storm’s wild light,

  For blessing given or ban.

  All hearts of hearkening men that heard

  The ban twin-born with blessing, stirred

  Like springtide waters, knew the word

  Whereby the steeds of storm are spurred

  With ravenous rapture to destroy,

  And laughed for love of battle, pierced

  With passion of tempestuous thirst

  And hungering hope to assuage it first

  With draughts of stormy joy.

  But sheer ahead of the iron tide

  That rocked and roared from side to side

  Rode as the lightning’s lord might ride

  King Lot, whose heart was set to abide

  All peril of the raging hour,

  And all his host of warriors born

  Where lands by warring seas are worn

  Was only by his hands upborne

  Who gave them pride and power.

  But as the sea’s hand smites the shore

  And shatters all the strengths that bore

  The ravage earth may bear no more,

  So smote the hand of Pellinore

  Charging, a knight of Arthur’s chief,

  And clove his strong steed’s neck in twain,

  And smote him sheer through brow and brain,

  Falling: and there King Lot lay slain,

  And knew not wrath or grief.

  And all the host of Orkney fled,

  And many a mother’s son lay dead:

  But when they raised the stricken head

  Whence pride and power and shame were fled

  And rage and anguish now cast out,

  And bore it toward a kingly tomb,

  The wife whose love had wrought his doom

  Came thither, fair as morning’s bloom

  And dark as twilight’s doubt.

  And there her four strong sons and his,

  Gawain and Gareth, Gaherys

  And Agravain, whose sword’s sharp kiss

  With sound of hell’s own serpent’s hiss

  Should one day turn her life to death,

  Stood mourning with her: but by these

  Seeing Mordred as a seer that sees,

  Anguish of terror bent her knees

  And caught her shuddering breath.

  The splendour of her sovereign eyes

  Flashed darkness deeper than the skies

  Feel or fear when the sunset dies

  On his that felt as midnight rise

  Their doom upon them, there undone

  By faith in fear ere thought could yield

  A shadowy sense of days revealed,

  The ravin of the final field,

  The terror of their son.

  For Arthur’s, as they caught the light

  That sought and durst not seek his sight,

  Darkened, and all his spirit’s might

  Withered within him even as night

  Withers when sunrise thrills the sea.

  But Mordred’s lightened as with fire

  That smote his mother and his sire

  With darkling doom and deep desire

  That bade its darkness be.

  And heavier on their hearts the weight

  Sank of the fear that brings forth fate,

  The bitter doubt whose womb is great

  With all the grief and love and hate

  That turn to fire men’s days on earth.

  And glorious was the funeral made,

  And dark the deepening dread that swayed

  Their darkening souls whose light grew shade

  With sense of death in birth.

  VI

  In autumn, when the wind and sea

  Rejoice to live and laugh to be,

  And scarce the blast that curbs the tree

  And bids before it quail and flee

  The fiery foliage, where its brand

  Is radiant as the seal of spring,

  Sounds less delight, and waves a wing

  Less lustrous, life’s loud thanksgiving

  Puts life in sea and land.

  High hope in Balen’s heart alight

  Laughed, as from all that clamorous fight

  He passed and sought not Arthur’s sight,

  Who fain had found his kingliest knight

  And made amend for Balen’s wrong.

  But Merlin gave his soul to see

  Fate, rising as a shoreward sea,

  And all the sorrow that should be

  Ere hope or fear thought long.

  “O where are they whose hands upbore

  My battle,” Arthur said, “before

  The wild Welsh host’s wide rage and roar?

  Balen and Balan, Pellinore,

  Where are they?” Merlin answered him:

  “Balen shall be not long away

  From sight of you, but night nor day

  Shall bring his brother back to say

  If life burn bright or dim.”

  “Now, by my faith,” said Arthur then,

  “Two marvellous knights are they, whose ken

  Toward battle makes the twain as ten,

  And Balen most of all born men

  Passeth of prowess all I know

  Or ever found or sought to see:

  Would God he would abide with me,

  To face the times foretold of thee

  And all the latter woe.”

  For there had Merlin shown the king

  The doom that songs unborn should sing,

  The gifts that time should rise and bring

  Of blithe and bitter days to spring

  As weeds and flowers against the sun.

  And on the king for fear’s sake fell


  Sickness, and sorrow deep as hell,

  Nor even might sleep bid fear farewell

  If grace to sleep were won.

  Down in a meadow green and still

  He bade the folk that wrought his will

  Pitch his pavilion, where the chill

  Soft night would let not rest fulfil

  His heart wherein dark fears lay deep.

  And sharp against his hearing cast

  Came a sound as of horsehoofs fast

  Passing, that ere their sound were past

  Aroused him as from sleep.

  And forth he looked along the grass

  And saw before his portal pass

  A knight that wailed aloud, “Alas

  That life should find this dolorous pass

  And find no shield from doom and dole!”

  And hearing all his moan, “Abide,

  Fair sir,” the king arose and cried,

  “And say what sorrow bids you ride

  So sorrowful of soul.”

  “My hurt may no man heal, God wot,

  And help of man may speed me not,”

  The sad knight said, “nor change my lot.”

  And toward the castle of Melyot

  Whose towers arose a league away

  He passed forth sorrowing: and anon,

  Ere well the woful sight were gone,

  Came Balen down the meads that shone,

  Strong, bright, and brave as day.

  And seeing the king there stand, the knight

  Drew rein before his face to alight

  In reverence made for love’s sake bright

  With joy that set his face alight

  As theirs who see, alive, above,

  The sovereign of their souls, whose name

  To them is even as love’s own flame

  To enkindle hope that heeds not fame

  And knows no lord but love.

  And Arthur smiled on him, and said,

  “Right welcome be thou: by my head,

  I would not wish me better sped.

  For even but now there came and fled

  Before me like a cloud that flies

  A knight that made most heavy cheer,

  I know not wherefore; nor may fear

  Or pity give my heart to hear

  Or lighten on mine eyes.

  “But even for fear’s and pity’s sake

  Fain were I thou shouldst overtake

  And fetch again this knight that spake

  No word of answering grace to make

  Reply to mine that hailed him: thou,

  By force or by goodwill, shalt bring

  His face before me.” “Yea, my king,”

  Quoth Balen, “and a greater thing

  Were less than is my vow.

  “I would the task required and heard

  Were heavier than your sovereign word

  Hath laid on me:” and thence he spurred

  Elate at heart as youth, and stirred

  With hope as blithe as fires a boy:

  And many a mile he rode, and found

  Far in a forest’s glimmering bound

  The man he sought afar around

  And seeing took fire for joy.

  And with him went a maiden, fair

  As flowers aflush with April air.

  And Balen bade him turn him there

  To tell the king what woes they were

  That bowed him down so sore: and he

  Made woeful answer: “This should do

  Great scathe to me, with nought for you

  Of help that hope might hearken to

  For boot that may not be.”

  And Balen answered: “I were loth

  To fight as one perforce made wroth

  With one that owes by knighthood’s oath

  One love, one service, and one troth

  With me to him whose gracious hand

  Holds fast the helm of knighthood here

  Whereby man’s hope and heart may steer:

  I pray you let not sorrow or fear

  Against his bidding stand.”

  The strange knight gazed on him, and spake:

  “Will you, for Arthur’s royal sake,

  Be warrant for me that I take

  No scathe from strife that man may make?

  Then will I go with you.” And he

  Made joyous answer: “Yea, for I

  Will be your warrant or will die.”

  And thence they rode with hearts as high

  As men’s that search the sea.

  And as by noon’s large light the twain

  Before the tented hall drew rein,

  Suddenly fell the strange knight, slain

  By one that came and went again

  And none might see him; but his spear

  Clove through the body, swift as fire,

  The man whose doom, forefelt as dire,

  Had darkened all his life’s desire,

  As one that death held dear.

  And dying he turned his face and said,

  “Lo now thy warrant that my head

  Should fall not, following forth where led

  A knight whose pledge hath left me dead.

  This darkling manslayer hath to name

  Garlon: take thou my goodlier steed,

  Seeing thine is less of strength and speed,

  And ride, if thou be knight indeed,

  Even thither whence we came.

  “And as the maiden’s fair behest

  Shall bid you follow on my quest,

  Follow: and when God’s will sees best,

  Revenge my death, and let me rest

  As one that lived and died a knight,

  Unstained of shame alive or dead.”

  And Balen, wrung with sorrow, said,

  “That shall I do: my hand and head

  I pledge to do you right.”

  And thence with sorrowing heart and cheer

  He rode, in grief that cast out fear

  Lest death in darkness yet were near,

  And bore the truncheon of the spear

  Wherewith the woful knight lay slain

  To her with whom he rode, and she

  Still bare it with her, fain to see

  What righteous doom of God’s might be

  The darkling manslayer’s bane.

  And down a dim deep woodland way

  They rode between the boughs asway

  With flickering winds whose flash and play

  Made sunlight sunnier where the day

  Laughed, leapt, and fluttered like a bird

  Caught in a light loose leafy net

  That earth for amorous heaven had set

  To hold and see the sundawn yet

  And hear what morning heard.

  There in the sweet soft shifting light

  Across their passage rode a knight

  Flushed hot from hunting as from fight,

  And seeing the sorrow-stricken sight

  Made question of them why they rode

  As mourners sick at heart and sad,

  When all alive about them bade

  Sweet earth for heaven’s sweet sake be glad

  As heaven for earth’s love glowed.

  “Me lists not tell you,” Balen said.

  The strange knight’s face grew keen and red

  “Now, might my hand but keep my head,

  Even here should one of twain lie dead

  Were he no better armed than I.”

  And Balen spake with smiling speed,

  Where scorn and courtesy kept heed

  Of either: “That should little need:

  Not here shall either die.”

  And all the cause he told him through

  As one that feared not though he knew

  All: and the strange knight spake anew,

  Saying: “I will part no more from you

  While life shall last me.” So they went

  Where he might arm himself to ride,

  And ro
de across wild ways and wide

  To where against a churchyard side

  A hermit’s harbour leant.

  And there against them riding came

  Fleet as the lightning’s laugh and flame

  The invisible evil, even the same

  They sought and might not curse by name

  As hell’s foul child on earth set free,

  And smote the strange knight through, and fled,

  And left the mourners by the dead.

  “Alas, again,” Sir Balen said,

  “This wrong he hath done to me.”

  And there they laid their dead to sleep

  Royally, lying where wild winds keep

  Keen watch and wail more soft and deep

  Than where men’s choirs bid music weep

  And song like incense heave and swell.

  And forth again they rode, and found

  Before them, dire in sight and sound,

  A castle girt about and bound

  With sorrow like a spell.

  Above it seemed the sun at noon

  Sad as a wintry withering moon

  That shudders while the waste wind’s tune

  Craves ever none may guess what boon,

  But all may know the boon for dire.

  And evening on its darkness fell

  More dark than very death’s farewell,

  And night about it hung like hell,

  Whose fume the dawn made fire.

  And Balen lighted down and passed

  Within the gateway, whence no blast

  Rang as the sheer portcullis, cast

  Suddenly down, fell, and made fast

  The gate behind him, whence he spied

  A sudden rage of men without

  And ravin of a murderous rout

  That girt the maiden hard about

  With death on either side.

  And seeing that shame and peril, fear

  Bade wrath and grief awake and hear

  What shame should say in fame’s wide ear

  If she, by sorrow sealed more dear

  Than joy might make her, so should die:

  And up the tower’s curled stair he sprang

  As one that flies death’s deadliest fang,

  And leapt right out amid their gang

  As fire from heaven on high.

  And they thereunder seeing the knight

  Unhurt among their press alight

  And bare his sword for chance of fight

 

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