CH7 
 
 University of California Berkeley 
 
WILLIAM 
 MORRIS 
 
 THE 
 
 HOLLOW 
 LAND 
 

THE HOLLOW LAND AND OTHER 
 CONTRIBUTIONSTOTHEOXFORD 
 AND CAMBRIDGE MAGAZINE BY 
 WILLIAM MORRIS 
 
CONTENTS 
 PROSE 
 
 The Story of the Unknown Church I 
 
 A Dream 16 
 
 Gertha's Lovers 40 
 
 Svend and his Brethren 113 
 
 Lindenborg Pool 141 
 
 The Hollow Land 154 
 
 Golden ^X^ings 209 
 
 Frank's Sealed Letter 235 
 1 Men and Women/ By Robert Browning 259 
 The Churches of North France* Shadows 
 
 of Amiens 289 
 4 Death the Avenger' and 'Death the Friend' 317 
 VERSE 
 
 Winter Weather 321 
 
 Riding Together 325 
 
 Hands 327 
 
 The Chapel in Lyoness 328 
 
 Pray but one Prayer for us 332 
 
 111 
 
THE STORY OF THE UNKNOWN 
 CHURCH. 
 
 I WAS the master/mason of a church that was 
 built more than six hundred years ago ; it is now 
 two hundred years since that church vanished 
 from the face of the earth; it was destroyed utterly 
 ***no fragment of it was left; not even the great 
 pillars that bore up the tower at the cross, where 
 the choir used to join the nave* No one knows 
 now even where it stood, only in this very autumn^ 
 tide, if you knew the place, you would see the 
 heaps made by the earth/covered ruins heaving 
 the yellow corn into glorious waves, so that the 
 place where my church used to be is as beautiful 
 now as when it stood in all its splendour* I do not 
 remember very much about the land where my 
 church was; I have quite forgotten the name of 
 it, but I know it was very beautiful, and even now, 
 while I am thinking of it, comes a flood of old 
 memories, and I almost seem to see it again*** 
 that old beautiful land! Only dimly do I see it in 
 spring and summer and winter, but I see it in 
 autumnxtide clearly now ; yes, clearer, clearer, oh ! 
 so bright and glorious ! yet it was beautiful too 
 in spring, when the brown earth began to grow 
 green: beautiful in summer, when the blue sky 
 looked so much bluer, if you could hem a piece 
 of it in between the new white carving; beautiful 
 in the solemn starry nights, so solemn that it alx 
 most reached agony*** the awe and joy one had 
 b i 
 
The Story in their great beauty* But of all these beautiful 
 
 of the times, I remember the whole only of autumn^ 
 
 Unknown tide; the others come in bits to me; I can think 
 
 Church only of parts of them, but of all autumn ; and of 
 
 all days and nights in autumn, I remember one 
 
 more particularly. That autumn day the church 
 
 was nearly finished, and the monks, for whom we 
 
 were building the church, and the people, who 
 
 lived in the town hard by, crowded round us oftenx 
 
 times to watch us carving. 
 
 Now the great Church, and the buildings of the 
 Abbey where the monks lived, were about three 
 miles from the town, and the town stood on a 
 hill overlooking the rich autumn country: it was 
 girt about with great walls that had overhanging 
 battlements, and towers at certain places all along 
 the walls, and often we could see from the churchx 
 yard or the Abbey garden the flash of helmets 
 and spears,and the dim shadowy wavingof ban^ 
 ners, as the knights and lords and men/atxarms 
 passed to and fro along the battlements ; and we 
 could see too in the town the three spires of the 
 three churches; and the spire of the Cathedral, 
 which was the tallest of the three, was gilt all over 
 with gold, and always at night/time a great lamp 
 shone from it that hung in the spire midway be/- 
 tween the roof of the church and the cross at the 
 top of the spire. 
 
 The Abbey where we built the Church was not 
 girt by stone walls, but by a circle of poplar trees, 
 
 2 
 
and whenever a wind passed over them, were it The Story 
 
 ever so little a breath, it set them all axripple; of the 
 
 and when the wind was high, they bowed and Unknown 
 
 swayed very low, and the wind, as it lifted the Church 
 
 leaves, and showed their silvery white sides, or as 
 
 again in the lulls of it, it let them drop, kept on 
 
 changing the trees from green to white, and white 
 
 to green ; moreover, through the boughs & trunks 
 
 of the poplars we caught glimpses of the great 
 
 golden corn sea, waving, waving, waving for 
 
 leagues and leagues; and among the corn grew 
 
 burning scarlet poppies, and blue cornxflowers; 
 
 & the corn/flowers were so blue, that they gleamed, 
 
 and seemed to burn with a steady light, as they 
 
 grew beside the poppies among the gold of the 
 
 wheat* Through the corn sea ran a blue river, and 
 
 always green meadows and lines of tall poplars 
 
 followed its windings* 
 
 The old Church had been burned, and that was 
 
 the reason why the monks caused me to build 
 
 the new one; the buildings of the Abbey were 
 
 built at the same time as theburned/downChurch, 
 
 more than a hundred years before I was born, and 
 
 they were on the north side of the Church, and 
 
 joined to it by a cloister of round arches, and in the 
 
 midst of the cloister was a lawn, and in the midst 
 
 of that lawn, a fountain of marble, carved round 
 
 about with flowers and strange beasts ; and at the 
 
 edge of the lawn, near the round arches, were a 
 
 great many sun/flowers that were all in blossom 
 
 3 
 
The Story on that autumn day ; and up many of the pillars of 
 of the the cloister crept passion/flowers and roses/Then 
 
 Unknown farther from the Church, and past the cloister and 
 Church its buildings, were many detached buildings, and a 
 great garden round them,all within the circle of the 
 poplar trees ; in the garden were trellises covered 
 over with roses, and convolvulus, and the great' 
 leaved fiery nasturtium; and specially all alongby 
 the poplar trees were there trellises, but on these 
 grew nothing but deep crimson roses; the holly x 
 hockstoowerealloutinblossomatthattime,great 
 spires of pink, and orange, and red, and white, 
 with their soft, downy leaves, I said that nothing 
 grew on the trellises by the poplars but crimson 
 roses, but I was not quite right, for in many places 
 the wild flowers had crept into the garden from 
 without; lush green briony, with greenxwhite 
 blossoms, that grows so fast, one could almost 
 think that we see it grow, and deadly nightshade, 
 Labella donna, oh! so beautiful; red berry, and 
 purple, yellowxspiked flower, and deadly, cruelx 
 looking, dark green leaf, all growing together in 
 the glorious days of early autumn* And in the 
 midst of the great garden was a conduit, with its 
 sides carved with histories from the Bible, and 
 there was on it too, as on the fountain in the cloisx 
 ter, much carving of flowers and strange beasts. 
 Now the Church itself was surrounded on every 
 sidebutthenorth by the cemetery,and there were 
 many graves there, both of monks and of laymen, 
 
 4 
 
and often the friends of those whose bodies lay The Story 
 
 there, had planted flowers about the graves of of the 
 
 those they loved. I remember one such particu> Unknown 
 
 larly, for at the head of it was a cross of carved Church 
 
 wood, and at the foot of it, facing the cross, three 
 
 tall sunxflowers ; then in the midst of the cemex 
 
 tery was a cross of stone, carved on one side with 
 
 the Crucifixion of our Lord Jesus Christ, and on 
 
 the other with Our Lady holding the Divine 
 
 Child. 
 
 So that day, that I specially remember, in autumn-* 
 
 tide, when the church was nearly finished, I was 
 
 carving in the central porch of the west front (for 
 
 I carvedall those bas-reliefs in the west front with 
 
 my own hand) ; beneath me my sister Margaret 
 
 was carving at the flower/ work, & the little quatre- 
 
 foils that carry the signs of the zodiac and em- 
 
 blerns of the months: now my sister Margaret 
 
 was rather more than twenty years old at that 
 
 time, and she was very beautiful, with dark brown 
 
 hair and deep calm violet eyes* I had lived with 
 
 her all my life, lived with her almost alone latter- 
 
 ly, for our father and mother died when she was 
 
 ?uite young, and I loved her very much, though 
 was not thinking of her just then, as she stood 
 beneath me carving. Now the central porch was 
 carved with a bas-relief of the Last Judgment, 
 and it was divided into three parts by horizontal 
 bands of deep flower-work. In the lowest division, 
 just over the doors, was carved the Rising of the 
 
 5 
 
The Story Dead ; above were angels blowinglong trumpets, 
 of the and Michael the Archangel weighing the souls, 
 
 Unknown and the blessed led into heaven by angels, and 
 Church the lost into hell by the devil; and in the topmost 
 division was the Judge of the world* 
 All the figures in the porch were finished except 
 one, and I remember when I woke that morning 
 my exultation at the thought of my Church bex 
 ing so nearly finished; I remember, too, how a 
 kind of misgiving mingled with the exultation, 
 which, try all I could, I was unable to shake off; 
 I thought then it was a rebuke for my pride, well, 
 perhaps it was. The figure I had to carve was 
 Abraham, sitting with a blossoming tree on each 
 side of him, holding in his two hands the corners 
 of his great robe, so that it made a mighty fold, 
 wherein, with their hands crossed over their 
 breasts, were the souls of the faithful, of whom 
 he was called Father: I stood on the scaffolding 
 for some time, while Margaret's chisel worked 
 on bravely down below. I took mine in my hand, 
 and stood so, listening to the noise of the masons 
 inside, and two monks of the Abbey came and 
 stood below me, and a knight, holding his little 
 daughter by the hand, who every now and then 
 looked up at him, and asked him strange quesx 
 tions. I did not think of these long, but began to 
 think of Abraham, yet I could not think of him 
 sitting there, quiet and solemn, while the Judgx 
 ment'Trumpetwasbeingblown; I ratherthought 
 6 
 
of him as he looked when he chased those kings The Story 
 
 so far; riding far ahead of any of his company, with of the 
 
 his mail'hood offhis head, and lyingin grim folds Unknown 
 
 down his back, with the strong west windblowing Church 
 
 his wild black hair far out behind him, with the 
 
 wind rippling thelong scarlet pennon of his lance; 
 
 riding there amid the rocks and the sands alone; 
 
 with the last gleam of the armour of the beaten 
 
 kings disappearing behind the winding of the 
 
 pass ; with his company a long, long way behind, 
 
 quite out of sight, though theirtrumpets sounded 
 
 faintly among the clefts of the rocks; and so I 
 
 thought I saw him, till in his fierce chase he leapt, 
 
 horse and man, into a deep river, quiet, swift, and 
 
 smooth; and there was something in the moving 
 
 of the waterxlilies as the breast of the horse swept 
 
 them aside, that suddenly took away the thought 
 
 of Abraham and brought a strange dream of lands 
 
 I had never seen ; and the first was of a place where 
 
 I was quite alone, standing by the side of a river, 
 
 and there was the sound of singing a very long 
 
 way off, but no living thing of any kind could be 
 
 seen, and the land was quite flat, quite without 
 
 hills, and quite without trees too, and the river 
 
 wound very much, making all kinds of quaint 
 
 curves, and on the side where I stood there grew 
 
 nothing but long grass, but on the other side grew, 
 
 quite on to the horizon, a great sea of red convpopx 
 
 pies, only paths of white lilies wound all among 
 
 them, with here and there a great golden 
 
 7 
 
The Story flower* So I looked down at the river by my feet, 
 of the and saw how blue it was, and how, as the stream 
 
 Unknown went swiftly by, it swayed to and fro the long 
 Church green weeds, and I stood and looked at the river 
 for long, till at last I felt some one touch me on 
 the shoulder, and, looking round, I saw standing 
 by me my friend Amyot, whom I love better 
 than any one else in the world, but I thought in 
 my dream that I was frightened when I saw him, 
 for his face had changed so, it was so bright and 
 almost transparent, and his eyes gleamed and 
 shone as I had never seen them do before* Oh ! 
 he was so wondrously beautiful, so fearfully beaux 
 tiful! and as I looked at him the distant music 
 swelled, and seemed to come close up to me, and 
 then swept by us, and fainted away, at last died 
 off entirely ; and then I felt sick at heart, and faint, 
 and parched, and I stooped to drink of the water 
 of the river, and as soon as the water touched my 
 lips, lo! the river vanished, and the flat country 
 with its poppies and lilies, and I dreamed that I 
 was in a boat by myself again, floating in an alx 
 most landxlocked bay of the northern sea, under 
 a cliff of dark basalt* I was lying on my back in 
 the boat, looking up at the intensely blue sky, 
 and a long low swell from the outer sea lifted the 
 boat up and let it fall again and carried it gradu^ 
 ally nearer and nearer towards the dark cliff; and 
 as I moved on, I saw at last, on the top of the cliff, 
 a castle with many towers, and on the highest 
 8 
 
tower of the castle there was a great white banner The Story 
 floating, with a red chevron on it, and three gold" of the 
 en stars on the chevron ; presently I saw too on Unknown 
 one of the towers, growing in a cranny of the Church 
 worn stones, a great bunch of golden and bloodx 
 red wallxflowers,and I watched the wallflowers 
 and banner for long; when suddenly I heard a 
 trumpet blow from the castle, and saw a rush of 
 armed men on to the battlements, and there was 
 a fierce fight, till at last it was ended, and one 
 went to the banner and pulled it down, and cast 
 it over the cliff into the sea, and it came down in 
 long sweeps, with the wind making little ripples 
 in it; slowly, slowly it came, till at last it fell over 
 me & covered me from my feet till over my breast, 
 and I let it stay there and looked again at the 
 castle, and then I saw that there was an amberx 
 coloured banner floating over the castle in place 
 of the red chevron, and it was much larger than 
 the other: also now, a man stood on the battle^ 
 ments, looking towards me; he had a tilting hel^ 
 met on, with the visor down, and an amber^col/ 
 oured surcoat over his armour ; his right hand was 
 ungauntleted,andhe held it high above his head, 
 and in his hand was the bunch of wallflowers 
 that I had seen growing on the wall ; and his hand 
 was white and small, like a woman's, for in my 
 dream I could see even very farxoff things much 
 clearer than we see real material things on the 
 earth : presently he threw the wall/flowers over 
 c 9 
 
The Story the cliff, and they fell in the boat just behind my 
 of the head, and then I saw, looking down from the bat' 
 
 Unknown tlements of the castle, Amyot* H e looked down to/ 
 Church wards me very sorrowfully, I thought, but, even 
 as in the other dream, said nothing; so I thought 
 in my dream that I wept for very pity, and for 
 love of him, for he looked as a man just risen 
 from a longillness,and who will carry till he dies 
 a dull pain about with him. He was very thin, 
 and his long black hair drooped all about his face, 
 as he leaned over the battlements looking at me : 
 he was quite pale, and his cheeks were hollow, 
 but his eyes large, and soft, and sad. So I reached 
 out my arms to him, and suddenly I was walk/ 
 ing with him in a lovely garden, and we said no/ 
 thing, for themusic which I had heard atfirstwas 
 sounding close to us now, and there were many 
 birds in the boughs of the trees: oh, such birds! 
 gold and ruby, and emerald, but they sang not at 
 all, but were quite silent, as though they too were 
 listening to the music* Now all this time Amyot 
 and I had been looking at each other, but just then 
 I turned my head away from him, and as soon 
 as I did so, the music ended with a long wail, and 
 when I turned again Amyot was gone ; then I felt 
 even more sad and sick at heart than I had before 
 when I was by the river, and I leaned against a 
 tree, and put my hands before my eyes* When I 
 looked again the garden was gone, and I knew 
 not where I was, and presently all my dreams 
 
 10 
 
were gone*The chips were flying bravely from the The Story 
 stone under my chisel at last, and all my thoughts of the 
 now were in my carving, when I heard my name, Unknown 
 Walter, called, and when I looked down I saw Church 
 one standing below me, whom I had seen in my 
 dreams just before, Amyot* I had no hopes of 
 seeing him for a longtime, perhaps I might never 
 see him again, I thought, for he was away (as I 
 thought) fighting in the holy wars, and it made 
 mealmostbesidemyselftoseehimstandingclose 
 by me in the flesh* I got down from my scaffold" 
 ing as soon as I could, and all thoughts else were 
 soon drowned in the joy of having him by me* 
 Margaret, too, how glad she must have been, for 
 she had been betrothed to him for some time be/ 
 fore he went to the wars, & he had been five years 
 away, five years ! and how we had thought of him 
 through those many weary days I how often his 
 face had come before me; his brave, honest face, 
 the most beautiful among all the faces of men and 
 women I have ever seen* Yes, I remember how 
 five years ago I held his hand as we came together 
 out of the cathedral of that great, far/offcity, whose 
 name I forget now; and then I remember the 
 stamping of the horses' feet; I remember how 
 his hand left mine at last, & then, some one look/ 
 ing back at me earnestly as they all rode on to/ 
 gether *** looking back, with his hand on the sad/ 
 die behind him, while the trumpets sang in long 
 solemn peals as they all rode on together, with 
 
 h 
 
The Story the glimmer of arms and the fluttering of banners, 
 of the and the clinking of the rings of the mail, that 
 
 Unknown sounded like the falling of many drops of water 
 Church into the deep, still waters of some pool that the 
 rocks nearly meet over; and the gleam and flash 
 of the swords, and the glimmer of thelancexheads 
 & the flutter of the rippled banners, that streamed 
 out from them, swept past me, and were gone, 
 and they seemed like a pageant in a dream, whose 
 meaning we know not; andthose soundstoo,the 
 trumpets, and the clink of the mail, & the thunder 
 of the horsexhoofs, they seemed dreamlike too 
 4*, and it was all like a dream that he should leave 
 me, for we had said that we should always be tox 
 gether; but he went away, and now he is come 
 back again* 
 
 We were by hisbedxside, Margaret and I; I stood 
 and leaned over him, and my hair fell sideways 
 over my face and touched his face; Margaret 
 kneeled beside me, quivering in every limb, not 
 with pain, I think, but rather shaken by a passion 
 of earnest prayer* After some time (I know not 
 how long), I looked up from his face to the winx 
 dow underneath which he lay; I do not know 
 what time of the day it was, but I know that it 
 was a glorious autumn day, a day soft with meltx 
 ing, golden haze: a vine and a rose grew together, 
 and trailed half across the window, so that I could 
 not see much of the beautiful blue sky, & nothing 
 
 12 
 
of town or country beyond; the vine leaves were The Story 
 
 touched with red here and there, and three over/ of the 
 
 blown roses, light pink roses, hung amongst Unknown 
 
 them, I remember dwelling on the strange lines Church 
 
 the autumn had made in red on one of the goldx 
 
 green vine leaves, and watching one leaf of one 
 
 of the overblown roses, expecting it to fall every 
 
 minute; but as I gazed, & felt disappointed that 
 
 the rose leaf had not fallen yet, I felt my pain 
 
 suddenly shoot through me, and I remembered 
 
 what I had lost; and then came bitter, bitter 
 
 dreams*** dreams which had once made me hap/- 
 
 py *** dreams of the things I had hoped would be, 
 
 ofthethings thatwould never be now; they came 
 
 between the fair vine leaves and rose blossoms, 
 
 and that which lay before the window ; they came 
 
 as before, perfect in colour and form, sweet sounds 
 
 and shapes* But now in every one was something 
 
 unutterably miserable; they would not go away, 
 
 they put out the steady glow of the golden haze, 
 
 the sweet light of the sun through the vine leaves, 
 
 the soft leaning of the full blown roses* I wanx 
 
 dered in them for a long time ; at last I felt a hand 
 
 put me aside gently, for I was standing at the 
 
 head of*** of the bed; then some one kissed my 
 
 forehead, and words were spoken***! know not 
 
 what words* The bitter dreams left me for the 
 
 bitterer reality at last; for I had found him that 
 
 morning lying dead, only the morningafter I had 
 
 seen him when he had come back from his long 
 
The Story absence *,. I had found him lying dead, with his 
 of the hands crossed downwards, with his eyes closed, 
 Unknown as though the angels had done that for him ; and 
 Church now when I looked at him he still lay there, and 
 Margaret knelt by him with her face touching 
 his: she was not quivering now, her lips moved 
 not at all as they had done just before; and so, 
 suddenly those words came to my mind which 
 she had spoken when she kissed me, and which 
 at the time I had only heard with my outward 
 hearing, for she had said, 4 Walter, farewell, and 
 Christ keep you ; but for me, I must be with him, 
 for so I promised him last night that I would 
 never leave him any more, and God will let me 
 go/ And verily Margaret and Amyot did go, and 
 left me very lonely and sad* 
 It was just beneath the westernmost arch of the 
 nave, there I carved their tomb : I was a longtime 
 carving it; I did not think I should be so long at 
 first, and I said, ' I shall die when I have finished 
 carving it/ thinking that would be a very short 
 time* But so it happened after I had carved those 
 two whom I loved, lying with clasped hands like 
 husband and wife above their tomb, that I could 
 not yet leave carving it; and so that I might be 
 near them I became a monk, and used to sit in 
 the choir and sing, thinking of the time when we 
 should all be together again* And as I had time 
 I used to go to the westernmost arch of the nave 
 and work at the tomb that was there under the 
 14 
 
great, sweeping arch; and in process of time I The Story 
 
 raised a marble canopy that reached quite up to of the 
 
 the top of the arch, and I painted it too as fair as Unknown 
 
 I could, and carved it all about with many flowers Church 
 
 and histories, and in them I carved the faces of 
 
 those I had known on earth (for I was not as one 
 
 on earth now, but seemed quite away out of the 
 
 world)* And as I carved, sometimes the monks 
 
 and other people too would come and gaze, and 
 
 watch how the flowers grew; and sometimes too 
 
 as they gazed, they would weep for pity, knowx 
 
 ing how all had been* 
 
 So my life passed, and I lived in that Abbey for 
 
 twenty years after he died, till one morning, quite 
 
 early, when they came into the church for matins, 
 
 they found me lying dead, with my chisel in my 
 
 hand, underneath the last lily of the tomb* 
 
A DREAM, 
 
 I DREAMED once, that four men sat by the 
 winter fire talking and telling tales, in a house 
 that the wind howled round* And one of them, 
 the eldest, said: * When I was a boy, before you 
 came to this land, that bar of red sand rock, which 
 makes a fall in our river, had only justbeen formx 
 ed; for it used to stand above the river in a great 
 cliff, tunnelled by a cave about midway between 
 the greenxgrowing grass and the greenxflowing 
 river; and it fell one night, when you had not yet 
 come to this land, no, nor your fathers* 
 Now, concerning this cliff, or pike rather (for it 
 was a tall slip of rock and not part of a range), 
 many strange tales were told; and my father used 
 to say, that in his time many would have explored 
 that cave, either from covetousness (expecting to 
 find gold therein), or from that love of wonders 
 which most young men have, but fear kept them 
 back Within the memory of man,ho wever, some 
 had entered, and, so men said, were never seen on 
 earth again; but my father said that the tales told 
 concerningsuch, very far from deterringhim (then 
 quite a youth) from the quest of this cavern, made 
 him all the more earnestly long to go; so that one 
 day in his fear, my grandfather, to prevent him, 
 stabbed him in the shoulder, so thathewasoblig/ 
 ed to keep his bed for long ; and somehowhe never 
 went, and died at last without ever having seen 
 the inside of the cavern* My father told me many 
 16 
 
wondrous tales aboutthe place, whereof foralong A Dream 
 
 time I have been able to remember nothing; yet, 
 
 by some means or another, a certain story has 
 
 grown up in my heart, which I will tell you somex 
 
 thing of: a story which no living creature ever told 
 
 me, though I do not remember the time when I 
 
 knew it not* Yes, I will tell you some of it, not all 
 
 perhaps, but as much as I am allowed to tell/ 
 
 The man stopped and pondered awhile, leaning 
 
 overthefirewheretheflames slept underthecaked 
 
 coal: he was an old man, and his hair was quite 
 
 white* He spoke again presently* ' And I have 
 
 fancied sometimes, that in some way, how I know 
 
 not, I am mixed up with the strange story I am 
 
 going to tell you/ Again he ceased, & gazed at the 
 
 fire, bending his head down till his beard touched 
 
 his knees ; then, rousinghimself, said in a changed 
 
 voice (for he had been speaking dreamily hither^ 
 
 to): 'Thatstrangexlookingoldhousethatyou all 
 
 know, with thelimes and yewxtrees before it, and 
 
 the double line of very old yewxtrees leading up 
 
 from the gateway xtower to the porch *** you know 
 
 how no one will live there now because it is so 
 
 eerie, and how even that bold bad lord that would 
 
 come there, with his turbulent followers, was 
 
 driven out in shame and disgrace by invisible 
 
 agency* Well, in times past there dwelt in that 
 
 house an old grey man, who was lord of that esx 
 
 tate, his only daughter, and a young man, a kind 
 
 ofdistantcousinofthehouse,whomthelordhad 
 
 a , 7 
 
A Dream brought up from a boy, as he was the orphan of a 
 kinsman who had fallen in combat in his quarrel* 
 Now,asthe youngknight&the younglady were 
 both beautiful and brave, and loved beauty and 
 good things ardently, it was natural enough that 
 they should discover as they grew up that they 
 were in love with one another; and afterwards, as 
 they went on loving one another, it was, alas ! not 
 unnatural that they should sometimes have half' 
 quarrels, very few and far between indeed, and 
 slight to lookers-on, even while they lasted, but 
 nevertheless intensely bitter and unhappy to the 
 principalpartiestheretoJsupposetheirlovethen, 
 whatever it has grown to since, was notsoallxabx 
 sorbing as to merge all differences of opinion and 
 feeling, for again there were such differences then* 
 So, upon a time it happened, just when a great 
 war had arisen, and Lawrence (for that was the 
 knight's name) was sitting, and thinking of war, 
 and his departure from home; sitting there in a 
 very grave, almost a stern mood, that Ella, his be- 
 trothed, came in, gay and sprightly, in a humour 
 that Lawrence often enough could little underx 
 stand, and this time liked less than ever, yet the 
 bare sight of her made him yearn for her full heart, 
 which he was not to have yet; so he caught her 
 by the hand, and tried to draw her down to him, 
 but she let her hand lie loose in his, and did not 
 answer the pressure in which his heart flowed to 
 hers; then he arose and stood before her, face to 
 18 
 
face, but she drew back a little, yet he kissed her A Dream 
 
 on the mouth & said, though a rising in his throat 
 
 almost choked his voice, 'Ella, are you sorry I 
 
 am going ?' ' Yea/ she said, 'and nay, for you will 
 
 shout my name among the sworcUflashes, and 
 
 you will fight for me/' Yes/ he said, 'for love and 
 
 duty, dearest/ ' For duty ? ah ! I think, Lawrence, 
 
 if it were not for me, you would stay at home and 
 
 watch the clouds, or sit under the linden trees singx 
 
 ing dismal love ditties of your own making, dear 
 
 knight: truly,if you turn out a great warrior, I too 
 
 shall live in fame, for I am certainly the making of 
 
 yourdesireto fight/ Heletdrophishandsfromher 
 
 shoulders, where he had laid them, and said, with 
 
 a faint flush over his face, 'You wrong me, Ella, 
 
 for, though I have never wished to fight for the 
 
 mere love of fighting, and though/ (and here again 
 
 he flushed a little) 'and though I am not, I well 
 
 know, so free of the fear of death as a good man 
 
 would be, yet for this duty's sake, which is really 
 
 a higher love, Ella, love of God, I trust I would 
 
 risk life, nay honour, even if not willingly, yet 
 
 cheerfully at least/ 'Still duty, duty/ she said; 'you 
 
 lay, Lawrence, as many people do, most stress on 
 
 the point where you are weakest; moreover, those 
 
 knights who in time past have done wild, mad 
 
 things merely attheir ladies' word, scarcely did so 
 
 forduty ; for theyowed their lives to their country 
 
 surely, to the cause of good, and should not have 
 
 risked them for a whim, and yet you praised them 
 
A Dream the other day/ 'Did I? ' said Lawrence ;'well, and in 
 a way they were much to be praised, for even blind 
 love and obedience is well; but reasonable love, 
 reasonable obedienceis so farbetter as to bealmost 
 a different thing; yet, I think, if the knights did 
 well partly, the ladies did altogether ill: for if they 
 had faith in their lovers, and did this merely from 
 a mad longing to see them do noble deeds, then 
 they had but little faith in God, Who can, and at 
 His good pleasure does give time and opportunity 
 to every man, if he will but watch for it, to serve 
 Him with reasonable service, and gain love and 
 all noble thin gs in greater measure thereby : butif 
 these ladies did as they did, that they might prove 
 their knights, then surely did they lack faith both 
 in God and man* I do not think that two friends 
 even could live together on such terms, but for 
 lovers. ,*ah! Ella, Ella, why do you look so at me? 
 on this day, almost the last, we shall be together 
 for long; Ella, your face is changed, your eyes ~O 
 Christ! help her and me, help her, good Lord/ 
 4 Lawrence/ she said, speaking quickly & in jerks; 
 4 dare you, for my sake, sleep this night in the cavx 
 ern of the red pike? for I say to you that, faithful 
 or not, I doubt your courage/ But she was startled 
 when she sawhim, and ho w the fiery blood rushed 
 up to his forehead, then sank to his heart again, 
 and his face became as pale as the face of a dead 
 man: he looked at her and said, 4 Yes, Ella, I will 
 go now; for what matter where I go?' He turned 
 20 
 
and moved toward the door; he was almost gone, A Dream 
 when that evil spirit left her, and she cried out ax 
 loud,passionate!y,eagerly:'Lawrence, Lawrence, 
 come back once more, if only to strike me dead 
 with your knightly sword/ He hesitated, wavered, 
 turned, and in another moment she was lying in 
 his arms weeping into his hair* 
 'And yet, Ella, the spoken word, the thought of 
 our hearts cannot be recalled. I must go, and go 
 this night too, only promise one thing/ 'Dearest, 
 what? you are always right P 'Love, you must 
 promise that if I come not again by toxmorrow at 
 moonrise, you will go to the red pike, and, having 
 entered the cavern, go where God leads you, and 
 seek me, and never leave that quest, even if it end 
 not but with death/ ' Lawrence, how your heart 
 beats! poor heart! are you afraid that I shall hesix 
 tate to promise to perform that which is the only 
 thing I could do? I know I am not worthy to be 
 with you, yet I must be with you in body or soul, 
 or body and soul will die/ They sat silent, and the 
 birds sang in the garden of lilies beyond ; then said 
 Ella again: 'Moreover, let us pray God to give us 
 longer life, so that if our natural lives are short for 
 the accomplishment of this quest, we may have 
 more, yea, even many more lives/ ' He will, my 
 Ella/ said Lawrence, 'and I think, nay, am sure 
 that our wish will be granted; and I, too, will add 
 a prayer, but will ask it very humbly, namely, that 
 He will givemeanother chance ormore to fight in 
 
 21 
 
A Dream His cause, another life to live instead of this failx 
 ure/ 'Let us pray too that we may meet, however 
 long the time be before our meeting/ she said; so 
 they knelt down and prayed, hand fast locked in 
 hand meantime; and afterwards they sat in that 
 chamber facing the east, hard by the garden of 
 lilies; and the sun fell from his noontide light gradx 
 ually,lengtheningtheshadows,andwhenhesank 
 below the skyxline all the sky was faint, tender, 
 crimson on a ground of blue; the crimson faded 
 too, and the moon began to rise, but when her 
 golden rim first showed over the wooded hills, 
 Lawrence arose; they kissed one long trembling 
 kiss, and then he went and armed himself; and 
 their lips did not meet again after that, for such a 
 long, long time, so many weary years; for he had 
 said: 'Ella, watch me from the porch, but touch 
 me not again at this time; only, when the moon 
 shows level with the lilyxheads, go into the porch 
 and watch me from thence/ 
 And he was gone;*., you might have heard her 
 heartbeating while the moon very slowly rose, till 
 it shone through the rosexcovered trellises, level 
 with the lilyxheads; then she went to the porch 
 and stood there* 
 
 And she saw him walking down to ward the gatex 
 wayxtower, clad in his mailxcoat, with a bright, 
 crestless helmet on his head, and his trenchant 
 sword newly grinded, girt to his side; & she watch* 
 ed him goingbetween the yewxtrees, which began 
 22 
 
to throw shadows from the shining of the harvest A Dream 
 
 moon. She stood there in the porch, and round by 
 
 the corners of the eaves of it looked down towards 
 
 her & the inside of the porch two serpent-dragons, 
 
 carved in stone; and on their scales, andabout their 
 
 leering eyes, grew the yellow lichen; sheshudderx 
 
 ed as she saw them stare at her, and drew closer 
 
 toward the halfxopen door; she, standing there, 
 
 clothed in white from her throat till over her feet, 
 
 altogether ungirdled; and her long yellow hair, 
 
 without plait or band, fell down behind and lay 
 
 along her shoulders, quietly, because the night 
 
 was without wind,and she too was now standing 
 
 scarcely moving a muscle* 
 
 She gazed down the line of the yew/trees, and 
 
 watched how, as he went for the most part with a 
 
 firm step, he yet shrank somewhat from the shadx 
 
 ows of the yews; his long brown hair flowing 
 
 downward, swayed with him as he walked; and 
 
 the golden threads interwoven with it, as the fashx 
 
 ion was with the warriors in those days, sparkled 
 
 out from among it now and then ; and the faint, 
 
 farxoff moonlight lit up the waves of his mail/- 
 
 coat; he walked fast, and was disappearing in the 
 
 shadows of the trees near the moat, but turned bex 
 
 fore he was quite lost in them, and waved his unx 
 
 gauntleted hand; then she heard the challenge of 
 
 thewarder,thefallingofthedrawbridge,theswing 
 
 of the heavy wicketxgate on its hinges; and, into 
 
 the brightening lights, and deepening shadows of 
 
A Dream the moonlight he went from her sight; & she left 
 the porch and went to the chapel, all that night 
 
 graying earnestly there* 
 ut he came not back again all the next day, 
 and Ella wandered about that house pale, and fret* 
 ting her heart away; so when nightcame and the 
 moon, she arrayed herself in that same raiment 
 that she had worn on the night before, and went 
 toward the river and the red pikeThe broad moon 
 shone right over it by the time she came to the 
 river; the pike rose up from the other side, and she 
 thought at first that she would have to go back 
 again, cross over the bridge, and so get to it; but, 
 glancing down on the river just as sheturned, she 
 saw a little boat fairly gilt and painted, and with 
 a long slender paddle in it, lying on the water, 
 stretching out its silken painter as the stream drew 
 it downwards, she entered it, and taking thepadx 
 die made for the other side; the moon mean while 
 turning the eddies to silver over the dark green 
 water: she landed beneath the shadow of that 
 great pile of sandstone,where the grass grew green, 
 and the flowers sprang fair right up to the foot of 
 the bare barren rock; it was cut in many steps till 
 it reached the cave, which was overhung by creepx 
 ers and matted grass; the stream swept the boat 
 downwards, and Ella, her heart beating so as alx 
 mostto stop her breath, mounted the steps slowly, 
 slowly. She reached at last the platform below the 
 cave, andturning, gave a long gaze at themoonlit 
 24 
 
country; ' her last/ she said ; then she moved, and A Dream 
 the cave hid her as the water of the warm seas closes 
 over the pearl-diver* 
 
 Just so the night before had it hidden Lawrence* 
 And they never came back, they two : never, the 
 people say* I wonder what their love has grown 
 to now; ah! they love, I know, but cannot find 
 each other yet; I wonder also if they ever will/ 
 So spoke Hugh the white-haired* But he who 
 sat over against him, a soldier as it seemed, black/- 
 bearded, with wild grey eyes that his great brows 
 hung over far; he, while the others sat still, awed 
 by some vague sense of spirits being very near 
 them; this man, Giles, cried out: ' Never? old 
 Hugh, it is not so *** Speak ! I cannot tell you how 
 it happened, but I know it was not so, not so*** 
 speak quick, Hugh! tell us all, all!' 
 'Wait a little, my son, wait/ said Hugh; 'the 
 people indeed said they never came back again 
 at all, but I, but I*** Ah! the time is long past 
 over/ So he was silent, and sank his head on his 
 breast, though his old thin lips moved, as if he 
 talked softly to himself, and the light of past days 
 flickered in his eyes* 
 
 Mean while Giles sat with his hands clasped fin- 
 ger over finger, tightly/ till the knuckles whiten- 
 ed/ his lips were pressed firmly together; his 
 breast heaved as though it would burst, as though 
 it must be rid of its secret* Suddenly he sprang 
 up, and in a voice that was a solemn chant, be- 
 e 25 
 
A Dream gan: 'In full daylight, long ago, on a slumberx 
 ouslyxwrathful, thunderous afternoon of sumx 
 mer *.*then across his chant ran the old man's 
 shrill voice: 'On an October day, packed close 
 with heavy 'lying mist, which was more than 
 mere autumnxmist'*.. the solemn stately chant' 
 ing dropped, the shrill voice went on; Giles sank 
 down again, and Hugh standing there, swaying 
 to and fro to the measured ringing of his own 
 shrill voice, his longbeard moving with him, said: 
 'On such a day, warm, and stifling so that one 
 could scarcely breathe even down by the seashore, 
 I went from bed to bed in the hospital of the pestx 
 laden city with my soothing draughts and medix 
 cines. And there went with me a holy woman, her 
 face pale with much watching; yet I think even 
 without those same desolate lonely watchings her 
 face would still have been pale* She was not beauti' 
 ful, her facebeing somewhat peevishJooking; apt 
 she seemed to be made angry by trifles, and, even 
 on her errand of m ercy, she spoke roughly to those 
 she tended: no, she was not beautiful, yet I could 
 not help gazin g at her, for her eyes were very beau' 
 tiful, and looked out from her ugly face as a fair 
 maiden might look from a grim prison, between 
 the windowxbars of it* 
 
 So, going through that hospital, I came to a bed 
 at last whereon lay one who had not been struck 
 down by fever or plague, but had been smitten 
 through thebody with a sword by certain robbers, 
 26 
 
so that he had narrowly escaped death* Huge of A Dream 
 
 frame, with stern suffering face he lay there; and I 
 
 came to him, and asked him of his hurt, and how 
 
 he fared, while the day grew slowly toward even, 
 
 in that pest/chamber looking toward the west; 
 
 the sistercame to him soon and knelt downbyhis 
 
 bed/side to tend him. 
 
 O Christ! As the sun went down on that dim 
 
 misty day, the clouds and the thickly /packed mist 
 
 cleared off, to let him shine on us, on that cham/ 
 
 ber of woes and bitter unpurifying tears; and the 
 
 sunlight wrapped those two, the sick man and the 
 
 ministering woman, shone on them**. changed, 
 
 changed utterly* Good Lord! How was I struck 
 
 dumb, nay, almost blinded by that change; for 
 
 there*.* yes there, while no man but I wondered; 
 
 there, instead of the unloving nurse, knelt a won/ 
 
 derfully beautiful maiden, clothed all in white, 
 
 and with long golden hair down her back* Ten/ 
 
 derly she gazed at the wounded man, as her hands 
 
 were put about his head, lifting it up from the 
 
 pillow but a very little; and he no longer the grim, 
 
 strong wounded man, but fair, and in the first 
 
 bloom of youth; abright polished helmet crowned 
 
 his head, a mail/coat flowed over his breast, and 
 
 his hair streamed down long from his head, while 
 
 from among it here and there shone out threads 
 
 of gold* 
 
 So they spake thus in a quiet tone: 'Body and 
 
 soul together again, Ella, love; how long will it 
 
A Dream be now before the last time of all?' 'Long/ she 
 said, ' but the years pass; talk no more, dearest, 
 but let us think only, for the time is short, and 
 our bodies call up memories, change love to better 
 even than it was in the old time/ 
 Silence so, while you might count a hundred, 
 then with a great sigh : * Farewell, Ella, for long/ 
 'Farewell, Lawrence/ and the sun sank, all was as 
 before* 
 
 But I stood at the foot of the bed pondering, till 
 the sister coming to me, said : ' Master Physician, 
 this is no time for dreaming; act! The patients 
 are waiting, the fell sickness grows worse in this 
 hot close air; feel' (and she swung open the casex 
 ment).,/the outer air is no fresher than the airinx 
 side ; the wind blows dead toward the west, comx 
 ing from the stagnant marshes; the sea is like a 
 stagnant pool too, you can scarce hear the sound 
 of the long, low surge breaking/ I turned from 
 her and went up to the sick man, and said: 'Sir 
 Knight, in spite of all the sickness about you, 
 you yourself better strangely, and an other month 
 will see you with your sword girt to your side 
 again/ ' Thanks, kind master Hugh/ he said, but 
 impatiently, as if his mind were on other things, 
 and he turned in his bed away from me restx 
 lessly. 
 
 And till late that night I ministered to the sick 
 in that hospital ; but when I went away, I walked 
 down to the sea, and paced there to and fro over 
 28 
 
thehardsand:andthemoonshowed bloody with A Dream 
 the hot mist, which the sea would not take on its 
 bosom, though the dull east wind blew it onward 
 continually. I walked there pondering till a noise 
 from overthe sea mademeturnandlookthat way; 
 what was that coming over the sea? Laus Deo! 
 the WEST WIND: Hurrah! I feel the joy I 
 felt then over again now, in all its intensity* How 
 came it over the sea? first, far out to sea, so that 
 it was only just visible under the redxgleaming 
 moonlight, far out to sea, while the mists above 
 grew troubled, and wavered, a long level bar of 
 white; it grew nearer quickly, it rushed on toward 
 me fearfully fast, it gathered form, strange, misty, 
 intricate form *. * the ravelled foam of the green sea; 
 then oh! hurrah! I was wrapped in it*the cold 
 salt spray ,, drenched with it, blinded by it, and 
 when I could see again, I saw the great green 
 waves rising, nodding and breaking, all coming 
 on together; and over them from wave to wave 
 leaped the joyous WEST WIND; and the mist 
 and the plague clouds were sweeping back east" 
 ward in wild swirls; and right away were they 
 swept at last, till they brooded over thefaceof the 
 dismal stagnant meres, many miles away from 
 our fair city, and there they pondered wrathfully 
 on their defeat* 
 
 But somehow my life changed from the time 
 when I beheld the two lovers, and I grew old 
 quickly/ He ceased; then after a short silence said 
 
 29 
 
A Dream again; ' And that was long ago, very long ago; I 
 know not when it happened/ 
 So he sank back again, and for a while no one 
 spoke; till Giles said at last: 'Once in full day> 
 light I saw a vision, while I was waking, while 
 the eyes of men were upon me; long ago on the 
 afternoon of a thunderous summer day, I sat alone 
 in my fair garden near the city; for on that day a 
 mighty reward was to be given to the brave man 
 who had saved us all, leading us so mightily in 
 that battle a few days back; now the very queen, 
 the lady of the land, whom all men reverenced 
 almost as the Virgin Mother, so kind and good 
 and beautiful she was, was to crown him with 
 flowers and gird a sword about him; after the 
 'Te Deum' had been sung for the victory, and al/ 
 most all the city were at that time either in the 
 Church, or hard by it, or else were by the hill that 
 was near the river where the crowning was to be: 
 but I sat alone in the garden of my house, as I said; 
 sat grievingfor the loss of my brave brother, who 
 was slain by my side in that same fight* 
 I sat beneath an elm tree; and as I sat and ponx 
 dered on that still, windless day, I heard suddenly 
 a breath of air rustle through the boughs of the 
 elm* I looked up, and my heart almost stopped 
 beating, I knew not why, as I watched the path of 
 that breeze over the bowing lilies and the rushes 
 by the fountain; but when I looked to the place 
 whence the breeze had come, I became all at once 
 30 
 
aware of an appearance that told me why my A Dream 
 heart stopped beating. Ah! there they were, those 
 two whom before I had but seen in dreams by 
 night, now before my waking eyes in broad dayx 
 light* One, a knight (for so he seemed) , with long 
 hair mingled with golden threads, flowing over 
 his mailxcoat, and a bright crestless helmet on his 
 head, his face sad'looking, but calm; and by his 
 side, but not touching him, walked a wondrously 
 fair maiden, clad in white, her eyelids just shadow- 
 ing her blue eyes: her arms and hands seeming to 
 float along with her as she moved on quickly, yet 
 very softly; great rest on them both, though sor/- 
 row gleamed through it. 
 
 When they came opposite to where I stood, these 
 two stopped for a while, being in nowise shadowy, 
 as I have heard men say ghosts are, but clear and 
 distinct. They stopped close by me, as I stood mox 
 tionless, unable to pray; they turned to each other, 
 face to face, and the maiden said, 4 Love, for this 
 our last true meeting before the end of all, we need 
 a witness; let this man, softened by sorrow, even 
 as we are, go with us/ 
 
 I never heard such music as her words were; 
 though I used to wonder when I was young whe^ 
 ther the angels in heaven sung better than the 
 choristers sang in our church, & though,even then 
 the sound of the triumphant hymn came up to me 
 in abreath of wind, and floated round me, making 
 dreams, in that moment of awe and great dread, 
 
 31 
 
A Dream oftheoldlongxpastdaysinthatoldchurch,ofher 
 who lay under the pavement of ft; whose sweet 
 voice once, once long ago, once only to me . yet I 
 shall see her again/ He became silent as he said 
 this, &noman cared tobreakinuponhis thoughts, 
 seeing the choking movement in his throat, the 
 fierce clenching of hand andfoot,the stiffening of 
 the muscles all over him; but soon, with an upward 
 jerk of his head, he threw back the long elf locks 
 that had fallen over his eyes while his head was 
 bent down, and went on as before : 
 'The knight passed his hand across his brow, as 
 if toclear away some mistthathad gathered there, 
 and said, in a deep murmurous voice, ' Why the 
 last time, dearest, why the last time ? Know you 
 not how long a time remains yet? the old man 
 came last night to the ivory house and told me it 
 would be a hundred years, ay, more, before the 
 happy end/ ' So long? ' she said; 'so long? ah ! love, 
 what things words are; yet this is the last time; 
 alas ! alas ! for the weary years ! my words, my sin V 
 4 O love, it is very terrible/ he said; ' I could almost 
 weep,old though I am,and grown cold with dwell/ 
 ing in the ivory house: O, Ella, if you only knew 
 how cold it is there, in the starry nights when the 
 north wind is stirring; and there is no fair colour 
 there,noughtbut the white ivory, with one narrow 
 line of gleaming gold over every window, and a 
 fathom's'breadth of burnished gold behind the 
 throne* Ella, it was scarce well done of you to 
 send me to the ivory house/ 'Is it so cold, love?' 
 
she said/ 1 knew it not; forgive me! but as to the A Dream 
 
 matter of a witness, some one we must have, and 
 
 why not this man?' ' Rather old Hugh/ he said, 
 
 'orCuthbert, his father; they have both beenwitx 
 
 nesses before/ 'Cuthbert/ said the maiden, solx 
 
 emnly, 'has been dead twenty years; Hugh died 
 
 lastnight/ (Now, as Giles saidthese words, carex 
 
 lessly, as though not heeding them particularly, 
 
 a cold sickening shudder ran through the other 
 
 two men,but he noted it not and went on) 'This 
 
 man then be it/ said the knight, & therewith they 
 
 turned again, and moved on side by side as before; 
 
 nor said they any word to me, and yet I could not 
 
 help following them, and we three moved on tox 
 
 gether,andsoon I saw thatmy nature was changed, 
 
 and that I was invisible for the time ; for, though 
 
 the sun was high, I cast no shadow, neither did any 
 
 man that we past notice us, as we made toward 
 
 the hill by the riverside* 
 
 And by thetimewecame there the queen was sitx 
 
 ting at the top of it, under a throne of purple and 
 
 gold,withagreatbandof knights gloriously armed 
 
 O ' O O O / 
 
 on either side of her; and their many banners 
 floated over them* Then I felt that those two had 
 left me, and that my own right visible nature was 
 returned; yet still did I feel strange, and as if I 
 belonged not wholly to this earth* And I heard 
 one say,in alowvoice to his fellow, 'See, sir Giles 
 is here after all ; yet how came he here, and why is 
 henotinarmouramongthenoble knights vonder, 
 he who fought so well ? how wild he IOOKS too ! ' 
 
 f 33 
 
A Dream 'Poor knight/ said the other, 'he is distraught 
 with the loss of his brother; let him be; and see, 
 here comes the noble stranger knight, our deliv/* 
 erer/ As he spoke, we heard a great sound of 
 trumpets, and therewithal a long line of knights 
 onfootwound up the hill to wards the throne, and 
 the queen rose up, and the people shouted ; and at 
 the end of all the procession went slowly and majx 
 estically the stranger knight; a man of noble pre- 
 sence he was, calm, & graceful to look on; grandly 
 he went amid the gleamingof their golden armour; 
 himself clad in the rent mail and tattered surcoat 
 he had worn on thebattlexday; bare-headed, too; 
 for, in that fierce fight, in the thickest of it, just 
 where he rallied our men, one smote off his hel- 
 met, & another, coming from behind, would have 
 slain him, but that my lance bit into his breast* 
 So, when they had come within some twenty 
 paces of the throne, the rest halted, and he went up 
 by himself toward thequeen; and she, taking the 
 golden>hilted sword in her left hand, with her right 
 caught him by the wrist, when he would have 
 knelt to her, and held him so, tremblingly, and 
 cried out, ' No, no, thou noblest of all knights, 
 kneel not to me; have we not heard of thee even 
 before thou earnest hither? how many widows 
 bless thee, how many orphans pray for thee, how 
 many happy ones that would be widows and orx 
 phans but for thee sing to their children, sing to 
 their sisters, of thy flashing sword, and the heart 
 that guides it ! And now, O noble one ! thou hast 
 34 
 
donetheverynoblestdeedofall,forthouhastkept A Dream 
 
 grown men from weeping shameful tears! Oh 
 
 truly! the greatest I can do for thee is very little; 
 
 yet, see this sword, golden^hilted, and the stones 
 
 flash out from it/ (then she hung it round him) 
 
 'andsee this wreath of lilies and roses forthy head; 
 
 lilies no whiter than thy pure heart, roses no tenx 
 
 derer than thy true love; and here, before all these 
 
 my subjects, I fold thee, noblest, in my arms, so, 
 
 so/ Ay, truly it was strange enough ! those two 
 
 were together again; not the queen & the stranger 
 
 knight, but the youngxseeming knight and the 
 
 maiden I had seen in the garden, To my eyes they 
 
 clung together there; though they say, that to the 
 
 eyes of all else, it was but for a moment that the 
 
 queen held both his hands in hers; to me also, 
 
 amid the shouting of the multitude, came an mv 
 
 der^currentof happy song: 'Oh! truly, very truly, 
 
 my noblest, a hundred years will not be long after 
 
 this/ 4 Hush ! Ella, dearest, for talking makes the 
 
 time speed; think only/ 
 
 Pressed close to each other, as I saw it, their 
 
 bosoms heaved*,,but I looked away* Alas! when 
 
 I looked again, I saw nought but the stately 
 
 stranger knight, descending hand in hand with 
 
 the queen, flushed with joy and triumph, and the 
 
 people scattering flowers before them* 
 
 And that was long ago, very long ago/ So he 
 
 ceased; then Osric, one of the two younger men, 
 
 who had been sitting in awe/struck silence all this 
 
 time, said, with eyes that dared not meet Giles's, 
 
 35 
 
A Dream in aterrifiedhalf whisper, as thoughhemeantnot 
 to speak, 'How long?' Giles turned round and 
 looked him full in the face, till he dragged his eyes 
 up to his own, then said, ' More than a hundred 
 years ago/ 
 
 So they all sat silent, listening to the roar of the 
 south-west wind; and it blewthe windows so, that 
 they rocked in their frames* 
 Then suddenly, as they sat thus, came a knock 
 at the door of the house; so Hugh bowed his head 
 to Osric, to signify that he should goandopenthe 
 door; so he arose, trembling, and went* And as he 
 opened the door the wind blew hard against him, 
 and blew something white against his face, then 
 blew it away again, and his face was blanched, 
 even to his lips ; but he, pluckin g up heart of grace, 
 looked out, & there he saw, standing with her face 
 upturned in speech to him, a wonderfully beautix 
 ful woman, clothed from her throat till over her 
 feet in long white raiment, ungirt, unbroidered, 
 and with a long veil, that was thrown off from her 
 face, and hung from her head, streaming out in 
 the blast of the wind; which veil was what had 
 struck against his face: beneath her veil her golden 
 hair streamed out too, and with the veil, so that 
 it touched his face now and then* She was very 
 fair, but she did not look young either, because of 
 her statuexlike features* She spoke to him slowly 
 and queenly: ' I pray you give me shelter in your 
 house for an hour, that I may rest, and so go on my 
 journey again/ He was too much terrified to an- 
 36 
 
swerinwords,& soonlybowed his head; andshe A Dream 
 
 swept past him in stately wise to the room where 
 
 the others sat, and he followed her, trembling* 
 
 A cold shiver ran through the other men when 
 
 she entered and bowed low to them, and they 
 
 turned deadly pale, but dared not move ; and there 
 
 she sat while they gazed at her, sitting there and 
 
 wondering at her beauty, which seemed to grow 
 
 every minute; though she was plainly not young, 
 
 oh no, but rather very, very old, who could say 
 
 how old? there she sat, and her long, long hair 
 
 swept down in one curve from her head, and just 
 
 touched the floor* Her face had the tokens of a 
 
 deep sorrow on it, ah ! a mighty sorrow, yet not 
 
 so mighty as that it might mar her ineffable love' 
 
 liness ; that sorrow/rnark seemed to gather too, 
 
 andat last the gloriouslyxslow music of her words 
 
 flowed from her lips : f Friends, has one with the 
 
 appearance of a youth come here lately? one with 
 
 long brown hair, interwoven with threads of gold, 
 
 flowing down from out of his polished steel helx 
 
 met ; with dark blue eyes and high white forehead, 
 
 and mailxcoat over his breast, where the light and 
 
 shadow lie in waves as he moves; have you seen 
 
 such an one, very beautiful?' 
 
 Then withal as they shook their heads fearfully 
 
 in answer, a great sigh rose up from her heart, 
 
 and she said : 4 Then must I go away again prex 
 
 sently, and yet I thought it was the last night of 
 
 all/ And so she sat awhile with her head resting 
 
 on her hand; after, she arose as if about to go, and 
 
 37 
 
A Dream turned her glorious head round to thank the mas/ 
 ter of the house; and they, strangely enough, 
 though they were terrified at her presence, were 
 yet grieved when they saw that she was going* 
 Just then the wind rose higher than ever before, 
 yet through the roar of it they could all hear plainx 
 ly a knocking at the door again; so the lady 
 stopped when she heard it, and, turning, looked 
 full in the face of Herman theyoungest, who there' 
 upon, being constrained by that look, rose and 
 went to the door; and as before with Osric, so now 
 the wind blew strong against him; and it blew 
 into his face, so as to blind him, tresses of soft 
 brown hair mingled with glittering threads of 
 gold ; and blinded so, he heard some one ask him 
 musically, solemnly, if a lady with golden hair 
 and white raiment was inthathouse; so Herman, 
 not answering in words, because of his awe and 
 fear, merely bowed his head ; then he was ware 
 of some one inbright armour passinghim,forthe 
 gleam of it was all about him, for as yet he could 
 not see clearly, beingblinded by the hair thathad 
 floated about him* But presently he followed him 
 into the room, and there stood such an one as the 
 lady had described; the wavering flame of the 
 light gleamed from his polished helmet, touched 
 the golden threads that mingled with his hair, ran 
 along the rings of his maiL 
 
 They stood opposite to each other for a little, he 
 and the lady, as if they were somewhat shy of 
 
 38 
 
each other after their parting of a hundred years, A Dream 
 
 in spite of the love which they had for each other: 
 
 at last he made one step, and took off his gleam^ 
 
 ing helmet, laid it down softly, then spread abroad 
 
 his arms, and she came to him, and they were 
 
 clasped together, herheadlyingover his shoulder; 
 
 and the four men gazed, quite awexstruck* 
 
 And as they gazed, the bells of the church began 
 
 to ring, for it was Newx Year' sx Eve; and still they 
 
 clung together, and the bells rang on, and the old 
 
 year died* And there beneath the eyes of those 
 
 four men the lovers slowly faded away into a heap 
 
 of snow-white ashes* Then the four men kneeled 
 
 down and prayed, and the next day they went to 
 
 the priest, and told him all that had happened* 
 
 So the people took those ashes and buried them 
 
 in their church in a marble tomb, and above it 
 
 they caused to be carved their figures lying with 
 
 clasped hands; and on the sides of it the history 
 
 of the cave in the Red Pike* And in my dream I 
 
 saw the moon shining on the tomb, throwing fair 
 
 colours on it from the painted glass; till a sound 
 
 of music rose, deepened, & fainted; then I woke* 
 
 4 No memory labours longer from the deep 
 Gold mines of thought to lift the hidden ore 
 
 That glimpses, moving up, than I from sleep 
 To gather and tell o'er 
 
 Each little sound and sight/ 
 
 39 
 
GERTHA'S LOVERS. 
 
 ' All thoughts, all passions, all delights, 
 Whatever stirs this mortal frame, 
 All are but ministers of love, 
 And feed his sacred flame/ 
 
 CHAPTER I. BY THE RIVER. 
 LONG ago there was a land, never mind where 
 or when, a fair country and good to live in, rich 
 with wealth of golden corn, beautiful with many 
 woods, watered by great rivers and pleasant trick' 
 ling streams; moreover, one extremity of it was 
 bounded by the washing of the purple waves, and 
 the other by the solemn watchfulness of the purx 
 
 fie mountains, 
 n a fair lowland valley of this good land sat a 
 maiden,onesummermorningearly,workingwith 
 her needle, while she thought of other matters as 
 women use. Shewas the daughter of a mere peas^ 
 ant, tiller of the kind soil, fisher in the silver waters 
 of the river that flowed down past his cottage to 
 the far-off city; he lived from day to day seeingfew 
 people, the one or two neighbours who lived in 
 the cottages hard by, the priest of the little hamx 
 let, now and then an artizan travelling in search 
 of work; except, indeed, when he went to the wars; 
 for he was a fighting man, as were all the people 
 of that country, when need was. H is wife was dead 
 these five years, and his daughter alone lived with 
 him; yet she, though of such lowly parentage, was 
 40 
 
very beautiful; nor merely so, but grand and qu een* Gertha' s 
 
 like also; such awoman as might inspire a whole Lovers 
 
 people to any deed of wise daring for her love* 
 
 Wnat thoughts were hers, as she sat working on 
 
 that summer morning, the song of birds all about 
 
 her, and the lapping of the low, green river waves 
 
 on the white sand sounding fresh and pleasantly 
 
 as the west wind blew them toward her? What 
 
 thoughts? Good thoughts, surely. For the land 
 
 wherein she dwelt, so fair a land, so small a land, 
 
 had never ceased to be desired by the tyrant kings 
 
 who bore rule round about. Always had they 
 
 made war against it; never had they conquered, 
 
 though sometimes they were seemingly victorix 
 
 ous in a scattered fight here and there through 
 
 sheer force of numbers; for the dwellers in that 
 
 good land were of a different race from the lazy, 
 
 slavish people who dwelt about them* Many a 
 
 song Gertha could sing you of how, long and 
 
 long ago, they came from a land far over the sea, 
 
 where the snow^laden pine^forests, weird halls 
 
 of strange things, hang over the frozen waters for 
 
 leagues, and leagues, and leagues along the coasts 
 
 that were the cradles of mighty nations. Sailing 
 
 over the sea then, long ago, with their ships all 
 
 a^blaze with the steel that the heroes carried, 
 
 they came to this land with their wives and chilx 
 
 dren, and here made desperate war with the wild 
 
 beasts, with savage swamps, dragon/inhabited, 
 
 daring famine, and death in all ugly shapes. 
 
 g 41 
 
Gertha's And they grew and grew, for God favoured them; 
 
 Lovers and those who dwelt nearest to the ' Savage Land/ 
 as it used to be called, grew more and more like 
 the strangers, and their good rule spread; and they 
 had a mighty faith withal that they should one 
 day ring the world, going westward ever till they 
 reached their old home in the east, left now so far 
 behind*Judge,therefore,whetherthetyrantkings 
 feared these free, brave men! Judge whether, grow* 
 ing more and more cruel as they grew more and 
 more fearful, they strained the chain over the misx 
 erable millions of their subjects so that with many 
 it grew intolerable, and was broken asunder; so 
 that, both in well'doingand in wrongdoing, God's 
 kingdom spread* 
 
 Think what armies went up against the good 
 land; what plains and valleys were sown with 
 swords and spears and helmets, and the bones of 
 valiant men; and how from being nameless once, 
 only thought of as the place where such and such 
 a tree grew very plenteous, where such a river ran, 
 it became now to be remembered to all time, nor 
 to be forgotten in eternity* Think of the desper^ 
 ate fights, in treacherous slippery fords, where 
 the round stones rolled and shifted beneath the 
 hurried trampling of men fighting for life, and 
 more than life, amid the plash of the reddened 
 waters in the raw, gusty twilight of the February 
 mornings; or in close woods, little lighted up by 
 the low sun just going to sink when the clouds 
 42 
 
looked thunderous in the summer evenings; or Gertha's 
 with shouts from crag to crag of the great slatex Lovers 
 cliffs, with wrathful thundering of rocks down into 
 the thronged pass below, with unavailing arrow 
 flights, because arrows cannot pierce the mounx 
 tains, or leap about among the clefts of the rocks 
 where the mountaineers stand, fiercely joyous* 
 Think too of the many heads, old and young, 
 beautiful and mean, wept over, not joyously in^ 
 deed; nay, who knows with what agony, yet at 
 leastwith love unflecked by any wandering mote 
 of the memory of shame or shrinking; think of 
 the many who, though they fought not at all with 
 spear or sword, yet did, indeed, bear the brunt of 
 many a battle, in patiently waiting through heart' 
 sickening watchings, yet never losing hope, in 
 patiently bearing unutterable misery of separa/- 
 tion, yet never losing faith* Had notGertha then 
 enough to think of, as she sat working hard by 
 where the water lapped the white sand? For this 
 people were so drawn together, that through the 
 love they bore to one another sprung terrible deeds 
 of heroism, any one of which would be enough 
 for a lifetime's thought; almost every man of 
 that nation was a hero and a fit companion for 
 theangels; and the glory of their fathers, and how 
 themselves might do deeds that would not shame 
 them, were the things that the men thought of at 
 ways; and the women, for their part, looked to be' 
 come wives to brave men, mothers to brave sons* 
 
 43 
 
Gertha's So now Gertha was singing rough spirit-stirring 
 Lovers songs of the deeds of old, and thinking of them 
 too with all her heart as she sung* Why she, weak 
 woman as she was, had not she seen the enemies' 
 ships hauled up on the island bank yonder, and 
 burned there ? Were not the charred logs, which 
 once, painted red and black, used to carry terror 
 to the peaceful, slothful people of the islands, 
 mouldering there yet, grown over by the long 
 clinging briony ? Did not her eyes flash, her brow 
 and cheeks flush with triumph, her heart swell 
 and heave beneath her breast, when the war- 
 music grew nearer & louder every moment; and 
 when she saw at last the little band of her dear 
 countrymen hemming in the dejected prisoners, 
 the white red-crossed banner floating over all, 
 blessing all alike, knight, & sailor, and husband- 
 man; and when she saw, too, her own dear, dear 
 father, brave among the bravest, marching there 
 with bright eyes, and lips curled with joyous tri- 
 umphant indignation, though the blood that he 
 was marked withal did not come from his ene- 
 mies' veins only? Did she not then sing, joyously 
 and loud-ringing, remembering these things and 
 many others, while the west wind was joyous 
 about her too, whispering to her softly many 
 things concerning the land of promise? 
 She sung about a king who lived long ago, a man 
 wise and brave beyond all others, slain treacher- 
 ously in a hunting party by emissaries of the ene- 
 
 44 
 
my, and slain at the height of his wisdom and Gertha's 
 good rule; and this was one of the songs that his Lovers 
 people had embalmed his memory withaL So, 
 as she sung, behold, the blowing of horns, and 
 trampling as of horse, just as her voice rang clear 
 with, 
 
 'The King rode out in the morning early, 
 
 ^Xfent riding to hunting over the grass; 
 
 Ere the dew fell again that was then bright and 
 
 pearly, 
 
 O me ! what a sorrow had come to pass ! ' 
 
 And a great company rode past going to hunt i 
 deed, riding slowly, between her and the river, 
 so that she saw them all clearly enough, the two 
 noble knights especially, who rode at the head of 
 them; one very grand and noble, young withal, 
 yet looking as if he were made to burst asunder 
 thethickest circles of the battle, to gather together 
 from the most hopeless routs men enough to face 
 the foe, and go back fighting, to roll back the line 
 of fight when it wavered, to give strength to all 
 warriors' hearts : fancy such an one, so wise, yet 
 so beautiful that he moved like the moving of 
 music; such tenderness looked from his eyes, so 
 lovingly the morning sun and the sweet morning 
 haze touched the waves of his golden hair, as they 
 rode on happily* He that rode beside him was 
 smaller and slenderer, smaller both in body and 
 face, and it seemed in mind and heart also; there 
 
 45 
 
Gertha's was a troubled restless look about his eyes; his 
 Lovers thin lips were drawn inward tightly, as if he were 
 striving to keep down words which he ought not 
 to speak; or else sometimes very strangely this 
 look would change, the eyes would glance about 
 no more, yet look more eager & strangely anxious 
 than ever; the thin lips would part somewhat, as 
 if he were striving to saysomethingwhich would 
 not leave his heart; but the great man's eyes were 
 large and serene, his lips full, his forehead clear, 
 broad, and white; his companion was sallow, his 
 forehead lower and rather narrow, his whole face 
 drawn into wrinkles that came not by age, for he 
 was no older than the other. 
 They passed as they had come, and when the last 
 note of their horns had died away, Gertha went 
 about her household duties; yet all that day, what' 
 ever she might do, however much she tried to 
 beat the phantom down, that stately man with 
 the golden hair floated always before her eyes* 
 
 EVENING now, the sun was down, the hunt 
 had swept away past the cottage again, though 
 not within sight of it, and the two knights having 
 lost their companions were riding on slowly, their 
 tired horses hanging down their heads* 
 4 Sire, where are we going to ?' said the small dark 
 man ; ' I mean to say where past that beechxtree, 
 the low swinging boughs of which will hit you 
 about the end of the nose, I should think? Ah! his 
 
head goes down, somewhat in good time; he has Gertha's 
 escaped the beechxbough/ Butthe other answer/- Lovers 
 ed no word, for he did not hear his friend speak, 
 he was singing softly to himself: 
 
 'The King rode out in the morning early, 
 
 Went riding to hunting over the grass ; 
 
 Ere the dew fell again which was then round and 
 
 pearly, 
 
 O me ! what a sorrow had come to pass/ 
 
 He sung this twice or thrice with his head sunk 
 down toward the saddle-bow, while the other 
 knight gazed at him with a sad half smile, half 
 sneer on his lips and eyes; then with a sigh he 
 turned him about and said, ' Pardon, Leuchnar, 
 you said something I did not hear; my mind was 
 not in this wood, but some where else, I know not 
 where* Leuchnar, we shall not find the hunt again 
 to-night; let us, let us seek rest at that cottage 
 that we passed this morning; it seems to be the 
 only house near/ 
 
 'Yea, my Lord Olaf/ said Leuchnar, smiling 
 again in that bitter way, when he saw in spite of 
 the twilight, both of the sunken sun and of the 
 thick beech/wood, a great blush come overOlaFs 
 face* 
 
 'Yea, for why should we not?' and as he said this, 
 he fairly burst out into strange explosive laughx 
 ter, that did not sound merry, yet was not repul- 
 sive, but sad only; for Leuchnar was thinking of 
 
 47 
 
Gertha's the ways of man, and found much to amuse him 
 Lovers therein; yet his laughter sounded sad in spite of 
 himself, for he was not one who was made to 
 laugh, somehow; but what specially made him 
 laugh now was this, that neither of them had for^ 
 gotten that hour in the morning, and the maiden 
 sitting alone near the river : each of them, as they 
 burst through the greenest glades of the forest, 
 with cry of hound and sound of horn, had, accordx 
 ing to his faith, visions of a darkxhaired maiden, 
 sitting and singing, her eyes raised & fixed on one 
 of them; also both wished to go there again, and 
 accordingly had been sad laggards in the hunt, 
 and had lost themselves, not very unwillingly, 
 perhaps; yet now neither liked to confess his longx 
 ing to the other; Leuchnar would not even do so 
 to himself, and for these reasons he laughed, and 
 his laugh sounded strange and sad* 
 But Olaf knew that he was in love, and all day 
 long he had been nursing that love delighted^ 
 ly ; he blushed yet more at Leuchnar' s laugh, for 
 these two seldom needed to tell each other their 
 thoughts in so many words, and certainly not 
 this time. He bowed his head downwards in his 
 confusion so low, that his gold curls, falling for^ 
 ward, mingled with the full black of his horse's 
 mane, and growled out therefrom: 'You are a 
 strange fellow, Leuchnar, though a good one; but 
 we will go/ 
 * Yea, to the peasant's cottage, my lord/said Leuch/ 
 
nar,with his head raised, his eyes set straight forx Gertha's 
 ward, and his lips curled into something much Lovers 
 more like a sneer than a smile; thereat Olaf with 
 a spring sat upright in his saddle, and glanced 
 quickly on either side of him, as though somex 
 thing had stung him unawares; afterwards they 
 both turned their horses' heads aside, and rode 
 slowly in the direction of the cottage, Leuchnar 
 singing in a harsh voice, 'The King rode out in 
 the morning early.** though the dew has fallen 
 again/ he muttered; whereat Olaf gave an un/ 
 easy side glance at him. 
 
 And soon they heard again the lapping of the river 
 waves on the sand of the silver bay, only lower 
 than before, because the wind had fallen* Then 
 presently they drew rein before the cottage door, 
 when the moon was already growing golden* Si' 
 gurd, Gertha's father, came to the door, and courtx 
 eouslyheld the stirrups of the knights while they 
 dismounted, & they entered, and sat down to such 
 fare as the peasant had, and Gertha served them* 
 But they prayed her so to sit down, that at last 
 it seemed discourteous to refuse them, and she sat 
 down timidly* Then said Sigurd, when they had 
 eaten enough, 4 1 pray you tell me, fair knights, 
 what news there is from the city, if you come from 
 thence; for there is a rumour of war hereabout, 
 only uncertain as yet*' 
 
 'Nay,at the city/ Leuchnar said, 'there is certain 
 
 news concerning one war, and even beside this, 
 
 h 49 
 
Gertha's rumours of a great conspiracy between the surx 
 Lovers rounding rulers of slaves. The Emperor says that 
 this valley always belonged to him ; though, in/ 
 deed, he was not very anxious for it when poison/ 
 ous swamps spread out on both sides of the river 
 here; or rather his ancestors laid no claim to it; 
 but now, at all events, he is coming to take his 
 own, if he can get it; coming byway (it is his only 
 way, poor fellow!) of the mountain passes* Only, 
 my lord Adolf is off to meet him with ten thou/ 
 sand men, and they are going to try the matter 
 by arbitrament in this fashion; marry, that if the 
 valley belongs to the Emperor, he must know 
 the way to it, & accordingly shall have it if he gets 
 through the mountains in any other way than as 
 a prisoner or dead corpse/ 
 
 Sigurd and Olaf laughed grimly at Leuchnar's 
 conceit, and Gertha's eyes flashed; while both the 
 knights watched herwithout seeing how matters 
 went with each other/ Then/ said Sigurd again, 
 'Concerning the young king, fair knights, what is 
 he?' Olaf s eyes twinkled at the question, & Leuch/ 
 nar seeing that he wanted to answer, let him do 
 so, watching him the while with a quaint amused 
 look on his face. ' Why/ said Olaf, 'he is counted 
 braveand wise, and being young, will, I hope, live 
 long; but he is very ugly/ Here he turned, and 
 looked at his friend with a smile* Sigurd started 
 and seemed disappointed, but Gertha turned very 
 pale, and rose from her seat suddenly, nor would 
 
 50 
 
she sit down again all that evening* Then Olaf Gertha's 
 
 saw that she knew he was the king, and somehow Lovers 
 
 did not feel inclined to laugh any more, but grew 
 
 stately and solemn, and rather silent too; but 
 
 Leuchnar talked much with Gertha, & he seemed 
 
 to her to be very wise; yet she remembered not 
 
 what he said, scarcely heard it indeed, for was not 
 
 theKINGbyher;thekingofallthatdearpeople; 
 
 yet, above all, whether the other were so or not, 
 
 her king? 
 
 Poor maid! she felt it was so hopeless; nay, she 
 
 said to herself, 4 Even if he were to say he loved 
 
 me, I should be obliged to deny my love; for what 
 
 would all the people say, that the king of so great 
 
 a nation should marry a peasant girl, without 
 
 learning or wealth, or wisdom, with nothing but 
 
 a pretty face? Ah! we must be apart always in this 
 
 world/ 
 
 And Olaf, the king, said, 'So Leuchnar loves her 
 
 ...and I love her* well, it will change his life, I 
 
 think; let him have her; poor fellow! he has not 
 
 got many to love him* Besides, she is a peasant's 
 
 daughter; I am a great king. Yet is she nobler than 
 
 I am, for all my kingship* Alas, I fear the people, 
 
 not for myself, but for her; they will not under/ 
 
 stand her nobility; they will only see that which 
 
 comes uppermost, her seeming wisdom, her seem/ 
 
 ing goodness, which, perchance, will not show to 
 
 be so much greater than other women's as the 
 
 queen's ought to do. Then withal to her, if per/ 
 
 51 
 
Gertha's chance, at anytime I am not quite sufficient to fill 
 Lovers her heart, will come aweariness of our palacelife, 
 a longing for old places, old habits; then sorrow, 
 then death, through years & years of tired pining, 
 fought against, bravely indeed, but always a terx 
 rible weight to such an one as she is. Yet, if I knew 
 she loved me, all this ought to be put aside; and 
 yet, why should she love me? And, if she does not 
 love me now, what hope is there; for how can we 
 see each other any more, living such different far 
 apart lives? But for Leuchnarthis is otherwise; 
 he may come and go often* Then he is wiser; ah! 
 how much wiser than I am; can think and talk 
 quite wonderfully, while I am but a mere fighting 
 man; how it would change his life too, when he 
 found any one to love him infinitely, to think his 
 thoughts, be one with him, as people say* Yes, let 
 Leuchnar have her/ 
 
 Those three so seemingxcalm! what stormy pasx 
 sions, wild longings, passed through their hearts 
 that evening! Leuchnar seemingxgenial with his 
 good friendly talk, his stories of brave deeds, told 
 as if his heart were quite in them; speaking so 
 much more like othermen than hiswontwas; yet 
 saying to himself, ' She must see that I love her ; 
 when since I can remember have I talked so?' 
 Poor fellow, how should sheknowthat? his voice 
 was to her as the voices of a dream, or perhaps 
 rather like grand music when it wakes a man; for, 
 verily the glory of his tales got quite separated 
 
from him, and in some dim way floated in a glory Gertha's 
 round about Olaf, as far as Gertha was concerned* Lovers 
 She heard his name, the hero of every deed, which 
 that farxdistant knight, Leuchnar, less present 
 than his own tales, was telling of; whenever dan/ 
 ger clung about the brave in those tales, her heart 
 beatforfearofhergolden/haired,broad'foreheaded 
 hero ; she wondered often, as her heart wandered 
 even from those tales, why she did not fall down 
 before him&win his love ordie* Howthen could 
 she think of Leuchnar? Yet Olaf did think of him, 
 sawwell through all his talking what he was think- 
 ing of; and, for his own part, though he did not 
 talk aloud, and though even what he said to him' 
 self had to do with that subject dearest to him, yet 
 none the less even to himself choked down fiery 
 longings, hardly, very hardly to be restrained* He 
 tried hard to throw himself into Leuchna/s heart, 
 to think of the loneliness of the man, and his wonx 
 derful power of concentrating every though t,every 
 least spark of passion, on some one thing; he rex 
 membered how in the years past he had clutched 
 so eagerly at knowledge; how that knowledge had 
 overmastered him, made him more and more 
 lonely year by year; made him despise others bex 
 cause they did not K N O W; he remembered, with 
 a certain pang, how Leuchnar even despised him 
 for one time; yes, he could bear just then to recall 
 all the bitter memories of that time ; how he saw 
 it creeping over his friend; how he saw it struggled 
 
 53 
 
Gertha's against, yet still gaining, gaining so surely; he 
 Lovers called to mind that day, when Leuchnar spoke his 
 scorn out openly, bitterly despising his own pride 
 andhimselfthewhile;herememberedhowLeuchx 
 nar came back to him afterwards,when knowledge 
 failed him; and yet ho wit was never the same bex 
 tween them as it had been; he remembered then 
 many a fight wherein they rode side by side tox 
 gether, Leuchnar as brave as he, yet ever with that 
 weight of self x scorn upon him, that made him 
 despise even his bravery, while Olaf rejoiced in 
 his o wn,reverenced that of others; then he remem/ 
 bered how he was made king, how the love of his 
 countrymen became from that time much more 
 of a passion, true love, than it had been; & through 
 all these things he tried to be Leuchnar, as it were; 
 not such a hard thing for him; for through his unx 
 selfishness he had gained that mighty power of 
 sympathy for others,which no fiercest passion can 
 altogether put aside, even for the time* So he too 
 had his thoughts, not easily to be read by others, 
 not to be expressed by himself* 
 So the night passed; & they went to rest, or what 
 seemed so, till they were wakened very early in 
 the morning by the sound of a trumpet ringing 
 all about the wooded river/shore; the knights and 
 Sigurd rose & went forth from the cottage, knowx 
 ing the trumpet to be a friendly one; and present/ 
 ly there met them a band of knights fully armed, 
 who drew rein when they saw them* 
 
 54 
 
4 King Olaf/ said their leader, an old, whitexhairx Gertha's 
 
 ed knight, 'thank God we have found you! When Lovers 
 
 we reached the palace last night, after having lost 
 
 you, there were waiting for us ambassadors, bringx 
 
 ing with them declarations of war from the three 
 
 Dukes and King Borrace; so now, I pray you, 
 
 quick back again ! I have sent all about for men, 
 
 but the time presses, and there is a credible report 
 
 that King Borrace has already begun his march 
 
 toward the plain ; as for the three Dukes, (whom 
 
 may the Lord confound!) Lord Hugh's army 
 
 will account for them, at any rate to hold them 
 
 in check till we have beaten King Borrace; but 
 
 for him we must march presently, if we mean to 
 
 catch him; only come, King Olaf, and all will be 
 
 well/ 
 
 Then knelt Sigurd before the King, as he stood 
 
 with eyes flashing, and cheek flushing, thinking 
 
 how God's foes were hastening on to their dex 
 
 struction; yet for all his joy he longed to see Gerx 
 
 tha, perhaps for the last time; for she was not 
 
 there, neither did she come at Sigurd's calL So 
 
 the King smiled sorrowfully when Sigurd made 
 
 excuse for her, saying that she feared so great a 
 
 man as the King; he could not help wishing she 
 
 loved him, even though he meant to give her up 
 
 (so he said) ; he could not acknowledge to the full 
 
 what a difference her love would make to him* 
 
 Then would he have given Sigurd presents of 
 
 money & jewels, but Sigurd would not take them ; 
 
 55 
 
Gertha's only at the last, being constrained, he took the 
 Lovers King's dagger, hiked with curiously wrought 
 steeL Then they all rode away together; Barulf, 
 the old man, by the King's side, &talking eager- 
 ly with him concerning the coming wars; but 
 Leuchnar fell into the rear, and said no word to 
 any. 
 
 CHAPTER IL LEUCHNAR'S RIDE. 
 Then for some days each man wrought his best, 
 that they might meet the invaders as they ought; 
 yet through all the work Leuchnar seemed very 
 restless and uneasy, falling into staring fits, and 
 starting from them suddenly; but the king was 
 calm and cheerful outwardly, whatever passion 
 strove to fever him* But one day when he was 
 resting, leaningout of a window of the palacethat 
 was almost hidden by the heaped jasmine and 
 clematis, he heard horse-hoofs, and presently saw 
 Leuchnar, his sallow face drawn into one frown 
 of eagerness, well mounted, lightly armed, just 
 going to ride away, Olaf well knew whither. 
 A fierce pang shot through to Olaf s heart; he 
 felt dizzied and confused; through the clematis 
 stems and curled tendrils, through the mist ris- 
 ing from his own heart, he dimly saw Leuchnar 
 gather himself together, raise his bridle-hand, 
 and bend forward as his horse sprung up to the 
 gallop; he felt sick, his strong hands trembled; 
 and through the whirling of his brain, and the 
 56 
 
buzzing in his ears, he heard himself shout out: Gertha's 
 
 4 Good speed, Sir Leuchnar, with your wooing ! ' Lovers 
 
 That was enough; his heart sank, & his passion 
 
 grew cool for the second, when he saw how fearx 
 
 fully Leuchnar' s face changed at the well^underx 
 
 stood words : troubled before as it had been, what 
 
 was it no w, when suddenly all the conscience of the 
 
 man showed in that small spot of clay, his face? 
 
 He turned his horse, and rode back swiftly; Olaf 
 
 waited for him there, scarce knowing what he did 
 
 at first; yet within a little, something, thoughts 
 
 of approaching death perhaps, had steadied his 
 
 brain, and kept his passion back: he heard soon 
 
 the quick footsteps of some one striding far, and 
 
 walked quietly toward the door, where he met 
 
 Leuchnar, his teeth set, his lips a little open, that 
 
 his hard/drawn breathings might not choke him, 
 
 his black eyes fixed forward and shining grimly 
 
 from under his heavy brows like penthouse roofs* 
 
 Olaf took him by the arm and gripped him hard; 
 
 but he tore it away fiercely; he flung himself down 
 
 before OlaPs feet* 
 
 4 King Olaf/ he said passionately, ' I will not go, 
 
 I will stay here then, if you look at me like that, 
 
 with your broad white forehead & golden locks 
 
 *** you ! *** I will die here if I cannot live till I meet 
 
 the enemy/ 
 
 Olaf stooped to raise him up, but he drew farther 
 
 back from him; then said, still kneeling: 'No 
 
 word. 4* no word yet, king, from you* W^as it not 
 
 i 57 
 
Gertha's enough, Olaf, that you should take care of me, 
 Lovers and love me in the days before you were king*** 
 me, a lonely discontented man, a black spot in the 
 clear whiteness of the most loving people of the 
 earth? was it not enough that, on the day when 
 all the people shouted for Olaf, calling him the 
 wisest & the best, you, with the crown yet on your 
 head, the holy oil not dry there, should take me 
 by the hand, and say to all the knights and all the 
 people, whom you loved so, whom I (God help 
 me!) loved not: ' Behold Leuchnar my friend, 
 who has given me all the wisdom I ever had?' 
 Ah, king ! had you looked on me at that moment 
 and seen even then my curling lips saying to my 
 false heart, ' I am so much wiser than these simple 
 ones ! ' But your clear eyes only looked straight 
 forward, glancing over the heads of the people 
 that was dear to you, despised by me* Was it not 
 enough, King Olaf, that you, as the days passed, 
 still keeping me the nearest to you, still asking 
 me concerning everything, should be beginning 
 to thaw my hard heart and to shake my faith in 
 the faithlessness of Adam's sons ? were not these 
 things enough, that you also, first of all finding 
 pretences to mar the nobleness of your sacrifice 
 even to your own heart, should give your love up 
 to me, not as I do now to you, noisily, but quietx 
 ly, without a word spoken; then afterwards, when 
 you saw with what base eagerness I caught at that 
 love given up by you, and fearing terrible things 
 
 58 
 
for my wretched soul if this went on, stopped me Gertha's 
 
 like my guardian angel, just now when I was Lovers 
 
 sneakingoff like a thief in the night, and perhaps 
 
 now*** God help me! God help me!*** have perx 
 
 haps even made me do one thing in the whole 
 
 course of my life which it is good to have done in 
 
 His eyes?' 
 
 Then, as he knelt there, like a man before the 
 
 presence of God, the king spoke slowly, with 
 
 humble face indeed, & tearfully, but almost smilx 
 
 ing, because all things seemed so clear to him in 
 
 a moment of prophetic vision* 
 
 4 Dear Knight, your words seem like a bitter satx 
 
 ire to me; for I did not call you back just now 
 
 for your salvation, but because my selfish passion 
 
 (think of a selfish king, Leuchnar; what a misx 
 
 ery!) my passion carried me away: O, forgive me! 
 
 for indeed I wish you to have her ; think now, how 
 
 many cares, and joys too, I have in tending this 
 
 people that God has given me; I am sure that I 
 
 shall not be quite unhappy for long, whatever 
 
 happens ; sometimes, perhaps, when I am weary, 
 
 sometimes in the dead night, sometimes in the 
 
 dying autumn, I shall have thoughts of her; but 
 
 they will never be unbearable, because no power 
 
 in earth or heaven can keep me from loving her: 
 
 it will be no shame to you either, Leuchnar; do 
 
 you not remember, in past days, how, when we 
 
 talked of this matter, you have often said (wherex 
 
 in even then I scarce agreed with you), that the 
 
 59 
 
Gertha's love of man and woman should go before every/ 
 
 Lovers thing, before all friendship, all duty, all honour 
 
 even ? you thought so then ; can you doubt now ? ' 
 
 He ceased, & said no word for a little; then spoke 
 
 doubtfully. 
 
 'And yet, and yet ... are we not as men who reckon, 
 as they say, without their host? What will Ger/ 
 tha say? ought we not to know before this great 
 battle is fought, from which, perchance, neither of 
 us will come alive? and we march to/morrow, and 
 I may not leave the council and my work here : 
 wherefore, dear Leuchnar, I pray you on your al/ 
 legiance mount again and ride quickly away to 
 that cottage, and ask her if she.* * loves you*** and 
 if*** if*** Leuchnar, we may be near to death ; what/ 
 ever happens we must be brothers*** so God speed 
 you on your wooing/ 
 
 Leuchnar had risen while the king was speaking, 
 and stood before him till he ceased with head sunk 
 down on his breast; then raised his face, radiant 
 now with a certain joy, to OlaFs; he spoke no 
 word, as though that joy, or something else, con/ 
 fused and hurrying, that went with it, was too 
 great for him; but, bending, kissed the king's hand 
 and departed* 
 
 Then Olaf again leaned from the window and 
 watched him go by again swiftly, till the sound of 
 the horse/hoofs had died away: then he turned to/ 
 ward the council chamber, thinking: 'His face was 
 not like the face of a man who is going to do what 
 60 
 
he thinks wrong: I fear lest he go as my amx Gertha' s 
 bassador,*,nay, do I fear? Yet surely that will Lovers 
 be the best way to speed his own wooing *,*O, 
 Gertha! Gertha K,* perhaps the sword will cut 
 this knot so close wound up together now; yet I 
 will not pray for that, only that Leuchnar may 
 live/ 
 
 Then presently he was in the midst of his lords. 
 Oh what a weary ride that was of Leuchnar's ! It 
 was earlymorningwhen he started, high noon by 
 the time he drewreinatthe cottage door; and that 
 joy which at first he had in his noble deed faded 
 from off his face as the sun rose higher, even as the 
 dew did from off the face of the meadows, & when 
 he dismounted at that house of Sigurd's,his face 
 was woful and ghastly to look on* 
 H e knocked at the door, then entered when no one 
 answered: he said out aloud, though he saw no 
 one there, as if he distrusted his power to repeat 
 that lesson got by heart with such pain : ' 1 bear a 
 message to the Lady Gertha/ 
 Only the cool duskiness of the heavyxshadowed 
 oak beams met his eye, only the echo of his own 
 hollow voice, and the chirp of the sparrows, the 
 scream of the swifts, met his ear* 
 For Gertha was not within ; but from the wood 
 she had seen the glimmer of his arms in the hot 
 noontide, and came down, stately and slow, unx 
 moved to look on, but her heart of hearts waverx 
 ing within her with hope and fear and ecstasy of 
 
 61 
 
Gertha' s love: perhaps (O poor heart, what wild hope!) 
 
 Lovers it might be the king* 
 
 She met him just at the door from whence he had 
 turned to seek her: he durst not meet her eyes, 
 those grand fire/orbs that had pierced him through 
 and through that other day; if he had looked up at 
 her face he would have seen the disappointment, 
 the sickness of hope deferred, showing somewhat 
 there in spite of her efforts to keep the appearance 
 of it back. 
 
 He, with his face turned away, said, in a hard 
 voice as before: 'I bear a message for the Lady 
 Gertha/ No blush coloured her pale cheeks, no 
 start or trembling went through her grand form; 
 she still held that flower in her hand, holding it 
 with queenly sway, for it fitted in her hand like a 
 sceptre: she said gently/ If you want Lady Gertha, 
 you must go elsewhere, my lord; lam Sigurd the 
 husbandman's daughter/ 
 
 'But you are Gertha that we heard sing that day/ 
 he said fiercely, & turninghis eager eyes suddenly 
 on her* 
 
 4 Yea/ she said, trembling a little now, and turning 
 even paler; for she saw how matters went with 
 him, and feared, not any violence from him, for 
 she soon read him through & through, but rather 
 that he should fall down dead before her, his pas/ 
 sion rent his heart so* 
 
 'Gertha, Olaf the king says, Will you be queen?' 
 he said, still looking hungrily at her* 
 62 
 
The crimson blood rushed up over her face, then Gertha' s 
 wentto her heartagain, leaving hervery lips grey. Lovers 
 She paused a moment, with her arms stretched 
 straight down, and her hands clenched; she said, 
 without looking up: 'Tell him, No; I am too 
 lowly, not wise enough, I should shame him; I 
 will not be queen *** But**/ 
 
 What wild passions rushed through poor Leuch/ 
 nar's heart! how he fought with that Devil which 
 had looked him steadily in the face so long, ever 
 since he was born till now! She stood there still 
 before him,with arms stretched downward,hands 
 clenched; he seized her by the wrist, and almost 
 shrieked out : ' But what ? ... Gertha ! Gertha ! be/ 
 fore God, do you love him ?' 
 Her colour came again as she looked him in the 
 face, put very close to hers now, so close that she 
 felt his breath upon it; she said calmly, almost 
 proudly: 'Yea, I love him; how could it be other/ 
 wise?' 
 
 4 Some token then, for Christ's sake; quick, Ger/ 
 tha ! and where will you be in the war time ? ' 
 'My father goes with me to/morrow to the city* 
 I shall dwell at St* Agnes' convent of nuns till 
 Borrace is defeated/ 
 
 'Then some token!*** here !' (and he tore down 
 from the cottage eaves a bunch of golden stone/ 
 crop) 'If you love him (think of God, Gertha), 
 kiss this/ 
 
 She bowed her head, and touched the yellow flow/ 
 
 63 
 
Gertha' s ers with her lips; as she did so,he bentandkissed 
 
 Lovers her forehead; then, with the flowers yet in his 
 
 hand, he sprung impetuously to his saddle and 
 
 galloped as if for his life* The Devil was conx 
 
 quered at last* 
 
 4 Poor knight!' said Gertha, looking after him pity- 
 ingly, 'then he loves me too; it seems wrong to 
 feel happy when such a noble knight is so miser/- 
 able/ 
 
 Yet she did feel very happy, and soon forgot poor 
 Leuchnarand his sorrows, who was ridingmeanx 
 while wildly through the forest; yet, as he drew 
 further from her, the madness of his passion ax 
 bated a little; he gave his horse rest at last, and, disx 
 mounting, lay down on the ferns by the side of the 
 forest'path, & there, utterly worn out in mind and 
 body, fell asleep; a dreamless sleep it was at first, as 
 deep as death almost, yet, as it grew lighter, he fell 
 to dreaming,and atlast woke from a dream where" 
 in Gertha had come to him, shrieked out that Olaf 
 was slain, then thrown her arms about his neck; 
 but, as he tried to kiss her, he awoke, and found 
 himself under the beechxboughs, his horse standx 
 ing over him, and the bridle, hanging loose from 
 the bit, dangling about his face; for the horse 
 doubted if he were dead* 
 
 He rose from that dream with a great wrench of 
 his heart, and, mounting, rode on soberly* The 
 moon shone down on him now, for he had slept 
 far into the night* The stonexcrop was fading fast, 
 64 
 
and as he looked at it, he doubted whether to curse Gertha' s 
 it or bless it, but at last raised it to his mouth and Lovers 
 kissed it, knowing whose lips had touched it bex 
 fore, looking halfxfearfully over his shoulder as 
 he did so; perhaps he thought a little also how 
 Olaf 's face would flush into perfect beauty for j oy, 
 when he sawit;for joymixedwithacertain regret 
 for himself* 
 
 So, when he reached the palace, quite late at night, 
 when the moon was already setting, he found Olaf 
 standing in the great hall alone, looking pale and 
 wearied* 
 
 Leuchnar came quite close to him, and said, takx 
 ing his hand and smiling a sick smile, ' Olaf, she 
 sent you this, kissing it/ 
 
 Olaf caught the faded flowers, kissed them a thoux 
 sand times, knelt, and held them against his heart, 
 against his forehead.He murmured ***what words 
 I know not, or, knowing, shall not say; while 
 Leuchnar stood by with that old bitter smile on 
 his lips* Poor fellow! he had expected sudden 
 clasping of Olaf 's arms about him, praise for his 
 nobleness, consolation for his failure* Ah! did he 
 not know himself what a passion love was ? Then 
 why did he expect from so true a man as Olaf 
 protestation that he was the first when truly he 
 was but the second? O ! you all know what it is 
 to be second in such a race; it is to be nowhere* 
 Why he, too, if he had been successful, would 
 have forgotten Olaf, & the way his sword flashed 
 k 65 
 
Gertha's in the battle* It was only now in his disappoint/ 
 Lovers ment that a certain natural instinct made him 
 catch at all the love that came across him of what/ 
 soever kind* That was why he thought so much 
 of Olaf now* Yes, and in a little time he did think 
 of all this, and smiled no more* * Poor Leuchnar ! ' 
 he said to himself, 'you must be very far in the 
 background now, know that for certain* Then, 
 did you not know all this when you knelt here 
 some twelve hours back? O! foolish Leuchnar! 
 yet, poor Leuchnar, too!' 
 
 And he was now so far from smiling that, but for 
 his manhood, he would have wept for self/pity* 
 Moreover, Olaf came to him and said, laying his 
 hands on his shoulders, and leaning forward to/ 
 wards his face: 'You are the noblest of all men, 
 and will in nowise lose your reward/ 
 And Leuchnar knew that, or he might have gone 
 mad; yet he prayed that his reward might be 
 death presently, in the joyous battle* 
 So, on the morrow, they marched to meet King 
 Borrace; and, on the eveningof the third day, en/ 
 camped but a little distance from his pirates* And 
 when, on the next morning, they stood in battle 
 array, and the king rode up and down their line, 
 Leuchnar saw in his helm the bunch of stone/ 
 crop, now quite withered* 
 
 Then that day, among the aspens, they joined 
 battle* 
 
 66 
 
CHAPTER IIL THE LIGHT OF IS^ Gertha's 
 
 RAEL, Lovers 
 
 Then, in the midst of them, the old man rose up 
 
 and spoke, while all the rest sat silent, some gaz" 
 
 ing fixedly on the ground, some on the fair dead 
 
 king that lay there before them. 
 
 For he had been slain with one wound that had 
 
 gone right through his breast to the heart, and his 
 
 body was not hacked or disfigured* They had 
 
 taken his rent armour from off him, and washed 
 
 his corpse, and spread out his long yellow hair to 
 
 right and left of his face, along the samite cloth, 
 
 purple, goldxstarred, that he lay upon; and, bex 
 
 hind him, at his head, they had laid his sword and 
 
 armour, the helm yet having that stonexcrop in 
 
 it, the ends of the stalks at least; for all the rest 
 
 had been shredded off in that fierce fight. Great 
 
 waxen candles burned all about him ; two priests 
 
 sat at the head and two at the foot of the bier, clad 
 
 in gorgeous robes of deep sorrowful purple, goldx 
 
 embroidered;for these men reverenced man's body 
 
 so, even when the soul was not so near to it as it 
 
 had been, that in those hours of doubt and danger, 
 
 they thought the time well spent in making the 
 
 body of their king, of him thebest and most beau' 
 
 tiful of all men, look as beautiful as God would 
 
 ever have dead bodies look* 
 
 So, while some gazed on the ground, some on the 
 
 fair dead king, none weeping, but all stern with 
 
 thought; for they had to think of him as being 
 
 67 
 
Gertha's present with them in their council, not dead; 
 
 Lovers while they gazed earnestly, the old man, Barulf, 
 arose and said: 
 
 4 Sons of the men that go from east to west, and 
 round again to the east! I advise you this day to 
 do such a deed of valour as you have never done 
 yet* Death in God's behalf, on the side of your 
 friends, is not hard to bear, brothers, even when 
 it comes slow and lingering; but how glorious to 
 die in a great battle, borne down by over^many 
 foes, to lie, never dead, but a living terror for all 
 time to God's enemies and ours, a living hope 
 to the sons of God ! And to die altogether, beholdx 
 ing, between the swordxstrokes, the faces of dear 
 friends all axlight with intensest longing; is not 
 that glorious!' 
 
 Their stern faces lighted up with flushing of cheek 
 and flashing of eye as he spake; for in their hearts 
 was fear of somethingfar worse than dyingon that 
 field between the aspens with friends' eyes upon 
 them. But Barulf went on : * Yet, brothers, not this 
 I bid you do* I give as my counsel that we depart 
 this night, taking with us nothing but our arms, 
 some small pro vision, & this dear dead thinghere: 
 turn our backs upon the foe, and depart, that we 
 may reach the motherxcity, where the women and 
 children are; & I think I have good reasons for this/ 
 'And howthen shall we face the women and chilx 
 dren ?' said a young man moodily* 
 4 Brother,' said Barulf, 'will you be a coward, inx 
 68 
 
deed, from fear of being thought a coward ? your Gertha's 
 heart does not counsel this, I know; and as for the Lovers 
 women and children, are they mere beasts, so as 
 not to understand this ? will they not say rather : 
 These men are warriors, they cannot fear death; 
 then are they the braver to be so faithful, to be 
 without fear of reproach for fear, so faithful to us 
 above all things; we will love them all the more?' 
 4 But why should we not die here fighting, Sir 
 Barulf ?' said another; 'are there not men left when 
 we are all dead?' 
 
 'Yea, dear knight, men, but not men enough* 
 Think awhile* Adolf with his ten thousand men, 
 and God's snow & storm that are tens and tens of 
 thousands, guard the passes against the emperor* 
 Good: they are enough asitis;buttakeawayhalf 
 for the defence of the cities, the mother^city above 
 all, which is the weakest, the most beautiful, the 
 fullest of women and children of all; and then 
 would five thousand be enough to guard those 
 passes ? Even as it is, were not this summer a cold 
 one and the snows deep, the emperor might drive 
 his serf'soldiers with whip and sword^point over 
 our dead soldiers' bodies : but suppose they were 
 lessened, our heroes would indeed die in their 
 places, and would doubtless slay many of the 
 enemy; but suppose they killed & wounded twice 
 their own number, yet two days afterwards some 
 200,000 men would be marching over our land 
 within fifty miles of the beautiful city* 
 
Gertha's Again, Edwin and his 300 ships, diligently sail/ 
 Lovers ing into every nook and strait of the pirate island, 
 and every day and night solemnly passing to and 
 fro, with the white red/crossed banner at their 
 mastheads, guard the coast well; but let him land 
 half, nay a third only of his men for the defence 
 of the city, and in a week the sea/port towns and 
 villages, safe from all scathe now, would be blaz/ 
 ing very high toward the heavens, and King Bor/ 
 race's red and black ship/sides would gleam with 
 the reflection of the Greek fire, as the dragons of 
 it leapt toward the harbour/mouth* 
 Moreover, the Lord Hugh, in his fortified camp, 
 holds his own well enough nowagainst the three 
 Dukes; who prowl always like accursed coward/ 
 ly wolves as they are, gnashing their teeth when 
 they think that their provisions cannot lastmuch 
 longer, not more than another month; and, stamp' 
 ing on the ground, invoke the Devil, their cousin 
 german, when they remember that not a blade of 
 grass or ear of corn is left in the country behind 
 them, laid waste as it was with fire, by the cruel 
 fools as they marched: they, howling too for very 
 rage when they see the wains in long lines enter/ 
 ing Hugh's camp, and when they hear the merry 
 sound of the trumpets, mingled often with the 
 chaunting of the priests and the singing of men, 
 singing about death that is no death* Ah! they 
 howl, the wolves, disappointed enough now; but 
 suppose Hugh were to weaken his camp so as no 
 
 7 
 
longer to be able to send out his swarm of light/ Gertha's 
 
 armed, who prevent the enemy from spoiling the Lovers 
 
 yet unwasted country; then also, no longer fear/ 
 
 ing an attack, the Dukes march nearer to him, 
 
 get themselves corn and wine, cut offhis supplies, 
 
 march past him at last with their 50,000 men, not 
 
 easy to destroy then* For cowards as the Dukes 
 
 are, and imbecile drivellers, knowing nothing of 
 
 war, yet have they along with them crafty cap/ 
 
 tains, who, when their highnesses'passionsmas/ 
 
 ter them not, give good advice which is listened 
 
 to, and the commoner sort, though robbers by na/ 
 
 ture and nurture, have yet a certain kind of cour/ 
 
 age, and much strength in body and skill of arms/ 
 
 In all the warriors' faces you might have seen a 
 
 gloomy conviction that his counsel was good; but 
 
 they sat silent, it seemed such a shame to turn 
 
 and flee before this enemy they had just beaten ! 
 
 Yet never for a moment did they doubt but that 
 
 their people would in the end prevail over the 
 
 enemies that hemmed them in, whatever became 
 
 of those 20,000 left alive there on the plain ; and 
 
 Barulf spoke to the better part of all their hearts 
 
 when he said: ' Does it then seem so hard a thing 
 
 to you, sons of the men that go westward, that 
 
 we, having fought for three days such a battle as 
 
 this, should have at last to turn and flee, carrying 
 
 our dead king with us ? Oh ! it is hard, very bitter 
 
 and cruel, brothers; yet is it God's will, and in his 
 
 sight, doubtless, is as glorious as if we all died 
 
 71 
 
Gertha's here in our places. And I am well assured that 
 Lovers this and all things else only hasten us westward ; 
 it cannot be in anyof your hearts that this people 
 should fail* Nay, rather our sons' sons in the afterx 
 time will speak of these as glorious days in which 
 the nations hedged us about, but in which we prex 
 vailed mightily against them. 
 But for another matter'*.* and as he spoke, the 
 memory came across him bitterly that the king 
 they had chosen but two years since lay dead bex 
 fore them now: then his face changed, and so it 
 was with all of them, now that they were free to 
 think of that loss; for but a little time back he 
 had been with them; even just now, as they talked 
 in their old way of fresh battles, & thought of the 
 swinging of the swords, he had almost seemed to 
 be there alive; but now... 
 
 One of the priests who sat by him had fallen ax 
 sleep, wearied out with tending the wounded and 
 dying, and his head had fallen on his breast; anx 
 other sat quite upright with his hands laid on his 
 knees, thinking dreadful things of what was comx 
 ing on the land; the third, a spare young man, 
 blackxhaired and sallowxfaced, in his nervous 
 anxiety twitched at the border of his cope as he 
 glanced about the tent, looking uneasily on the 
 face, first of one, then of another, of those that sat 
 there; the fourth, as he sat, sadxfaced and greatx 
 eyed, thinking of his mother and sisters whom 
 he had left in a castle of the lowland country, had 
 
taken one long yellow tress of the dead man's Gertha's 
 
 hair, & was absently twining it about his fingers* Lovers 
 
 Then arose Leuchnar with about as miserable a 
 
 look on his face as a good man can ever have, and 
 
 said: ' Sir Barulf, I know what you were about to 
 
 say, concerning the king' (a shudder ran through 
 
 them all) ; ' I have a message from the king to all 
 
 of you* I was by him when the spear pierced his 
 
 true heart; I drew him a little out of the fight; he 
 
 said : ' I am wounded to death ; but, alive or dead, 
 
 I must not leave this field* Bury me just about 
 
 where the enemy makes his last stand before he 
 
 turns/ For you see, knights, our dead lord was 
 
 sure of this, thatthe fair city would be saved/Then 
 
 the blood rising from his heart choked him some/ 
 
 what, yet he said gaspingly: ' Quick, Leuchnar, 
 
 bend to my mouth/ So I bent, and he said, faintx 
 
 ly and hurriedly: 'Undo my mail, and take the 
 
 paper there, and give it to the lords and knights 
 
 in council/ So I took a paper from his breast over 
 
 his heart; the spear had pierced it through, and 
 
 had carried some of it into the wound, and the 
 
 trickling blood had stained it; I took it from offthe 
 
 broken truncheon of the lance which was yet in 
 
 the wound* I showed it to him, he bowed his head 
 
 in token that all was well, when he had looked at 
 
 it eagerly; then he said: 'I wish to go, draw out 
 
 the truncheon, faithful and true! poor Leuchnar !' 
 
 I drew it out; there was a great rush of blood; he 
 
 smiled on me, and died/ 
 
 1 73 
 
Gertha's Thereon Leuchnar stepped from his place, and, 
 Lovers going up to Barulf, gave him the paper, very 
 much stained and torn* Barulf read it* 
 'Good saints, how strange! do you know what 
 is written in it, Sir Leuchnar?' 
 ' Nay, I but guess, Sir Barulf; for I did not open 
 it/ 
 
 'Listen,knights!' said Barulf,&heread: 'Knights 
 and lords, if I die in this battle, as I think I shall, 
 then (if so be it seem good to you) let Gertha, the 
 daughter of Sigurd the husbandman, be queen in 
 my stead; she lodges in the motherxcity, with the 
 abbess of St, Agnes' Abbey of nuns/ 
 'Yes, I thought so/ said Leuchnar, scarcely howx 
 ever speaking to them, for he was thinking to 
 himself of himself; his sorrow seemed to have 
 lessened much, even in the reading of that letter, 
 for he thought: ' Now she is queen, and has this 
 sorrow on her, I can serve her much better, and 
 my love will not trouble her nowas it would have 
 done, for it will seem only like the love of a good 
 subject to his mistress; and I will lessen every 
 grief of hers as it arises, loving her so, never vexx 
 ing her in the least; O selfish Leuchnar, to be glad 
 of her sorrow! yet I am glad, not of her sorrow, 
 but of my service that will be/ 
 These thoughts, and how many more, he thought 
 in a single instant of time; how many pictures 
 came up to be gazed on as it were for a long time, 
 in that instant! pictures of his life before he saw 
 
 74 
 
her, and of the things which in his mind belonged Gertha's 
 
 to her; the white sandy shore that the low waves Lovers 
 
 broke on; the feathering beech trees, with their 
 
 tender green leaves in the early summer; king 
 
 Borrace's burnt ships, great logs clomb over by 
 
 the briony and clematis; the highxroofed cottage, 
 
 whereon the loving golden x glowing stone x crop 
 
 grew; they came up before his eyes to be gazed 
 
 at; and the heavy waxen candles burnt lower, the 
 
 sleeping priest breathed heavily, the others sat in 
 
 painful silence, nursing their grief; which things 
 
 Leuchnarsawnotbecause of those sweet pictures, 
 
 even as they say that the drowning man, when the 
 
 first fierce pain and struggle is over, sees no more 
 
 the green, redxstained, swaying water^weeds, that 
 
 lap his eyes and mouth; sees rather his old home, 
 
 and all the things that have been, for memory is 
 
 cruelxkind to men* 
 
 Still the candles flared and flickered in the gusts 
 
 that stirred the tent, for the wind was rising with 
 
 the moon; and atlastthe one nearest thetent door 
 
 was blown out by a long blast,and the priestwho 
 
 had been sleeping awoke, drew up his body with 
 
 a start, trying to fix his blinded blinking eyes on 
 
 Sir BarulPs face, as waked men use to doThereat 
 
 suddenly Barulf sprung to his feet, as if he too was 
 
 waking from sleep, and cried out aloud: ' Rouse 
 
 ye, lords and knights, that we may march to our 
 
 queen! for, for my part, our queen she shall be; 
 
 all he said anddid was right and true when he was 
 
 75 
 
Gertha's alive; and he was, and is, the wisest of all men, and 
 Lovers she too is a right noble woman ; was it never told 
 you, knights, how she saved her father when king 
 Borrace's men took him prisoner? What say you, 
 shall she be our queen ?' 
 And they all said ' Yea/ 
 
 Then again said Barulf: * Unless lords Edwin, 
 Hugh, and Adolf gainsay it (as I have no doubt 
 they will not), God save queen GerthaP Then 
 they all stood up and said: 'God savequeenGer/ 
 tha!' 
 
 And Barulf said: 'Send a herald round about the 
 army to proclaim Gertha queen, and to bid all to 
 be ready to march some two hours before the set' 
 ting of the moon* Cause also the knight who carx 
 ries the great banner to be present, that we may 
 bury the king/ 
 
 So when all was ready, the noblest of the knights, 
 Barulf and Leuchnar among them, lifted up the 
 bier whereon the king lay, and they marched tox 
 gether to wards the burialxplace; and the standard/- 
 bearer bore the great banner to flap above him, 
 and the priests went before and after, chaunting; 
 and a great body of knights and soldiers went with 
 them as they marched over the plain; and the great 
 moon, risen now, struck on their arms, threw the 
 shadows of them weirdly on the dead that lay so 
 thick among the trees, looked down on by the 
 summer moon, rustled over by the fulMeaved 
 aspens. 
 76 
 
They went a full mile, till they came to a place Gertha' s 
 
 ringed about with aspen trees, about which the Lovers 
 
 enemy that past day had been finally broken* 
 
 Here they buried him, standing about in a ring, 
 
 in as thick ranks as ever in the battle ; tearlessly 
 
 and sternly they watched the incense smoke risx 
 
 ing white in the moonlight, they listened to the 
 
 chaunting, they lifted up their voices, and very 
 
 musically their sorrow of heart was spoken* 
 
 4 Listen !' said king Borrace's men, when they 
 
 heard the singing; 'Hark to the psalm/singing 
 
 dogs ! but by about this time to-morrow they will 
 
 be beginning to leave off singing for good and all, 
 
 for clearly the fools will wait to be killed, and we 
 
 shall kill them all, and then hurrah for plunder!' 
 
 But the next day about noontide, when they (not 
 
 hurrying themselves, for they thought they were 
 
 quite safe), when they reached the camp, behold 
 
 it was empty, for they all marched the night bex 
 
 fore, and were now still marching along the dusty 
 
 road leagues and leagues from that battlefield* 
 
 Wliereon king Borrace,instead of pursuing them, 
 
 returned to his camp, where he gnashed his teeth 
 
 for somehalfxhour or so, and held a great feast, he 
 
 and his, and stayed on that field for three days; 
 
 4 To give his army rest/ he said* 
 
 CHAPTERIVGERTHATHE QUEEN* 
 
 And meantime how did it fare with Gertha? The 
 time passedslowlybetweenhopeandfear,and all 
 
 77 
 
 
Gertha's the time was weary with a sicklongingthatwould 
 
 Lovers have been no less had he but gone out on a huntx 
 
 ing expedition* She had pity too for those who 
 
 were sick with love and dread, and all those who 
 
 looked on her loved her* 
 
 Then one evening about sunset/time, as the nuns 
 were singing in their chapel and she with them, 
 as the low sun struck throu gh the western window, 
 and smote upon the gold about the altar till it 
 changed it to a wonderful crimson,upon which the 
 pale painted angels that flecked the gold showed 
 purer and paler than ever; there came, on that 
 sunset evening, far offand faintat first, across, over 
 the roofs of the houses up to the hill whereon the 
 Abbey stood, a sound of shouting mingled with 
 the wailing of women, and the still sadder & more 
 awful wailingofthegreattrumpets,which seemed 
 to be the gathered sorrow from the hearts of the 
 men, who themselves could not wail because of 
 their manhood* 
 
 Tremblingly the nuns heard it, and their hymns 
 fainted and died, as that awful sound of the indig/ 
 nant sorrow of a whole people going up toheaven 
 rose and deepened,and swept onward: and Gertha 
 turned pale even to the lips, and trembled too, at 
 first, like an aspen^leaf, her heart beating so the 
 whilethatshe could hear thethrobbingsof it; but 
 with a mighty effort she put back the trembling 
 fever; she said low to herself: ' He is dead, and I 
 must not die yet/ Then she left her seat & walked, 
 
 78 
 
paleinher face likeamarble statue, up to the altar; Gertha's 
 
 she turned round and faced the door and the sun, Lovers 
 
 none hindering her, for they said : ' She waits for 
 
 news about the battle/ 
 
 The sun was on her forehead at first as she stood 
 
 still, but it sunk lower till it touched her lips, and 
 
 they seemed to quiver (though she held them still) 
 
 in that flood of light* 
 
 So she stood, when lo ! the clash of arms in the 
 
 vestibule, and there entered armed knights with/* 
 
 out bowing to the altar or crossing themselves, 
 
 Leuchnar first, then Barulf and some twenty lords 
 
 following him ; the others gazed about confusedly 
 
 at first,but Leuchnar goingbeforethem all walked 
 
 swiftly up to the place where Gertha stood, and 
 
 fell before her feet, spreading his arms out towards 
 
 her as he did so, and his iron armour rattled with 
 
 strange echo about the vaulted roof; she did not 
 
 look at him, her eyes beheld rather the far-off batx 
 
 tlexfield, and Olaf lying there somewhere under 
 
 the earth* 
 
 * Queen Gertha/ he began; but his voicefailed him 
 
 for throngingmemories* Sir Barulf and the others 
 
 drew reverently towards the two, and waited a 
 
 little way offstandinginahalf circle* He heaveda 
 
 great sigh, then bent lower yet, till his mail clinked 
 
 against the step whereon she stood; then suddenly 
 
 raised his passionate eyes to hers, and gazed till 
 
 she was forced to look on him both with heart 
 
 and eyes* 
 
 79 
 
Gertha' s She beheld him pityingly : he said again: 'Queen 
 Lovers Gertha ! ' (thereat she started) ' Queen Gertha, he 
 is dead/ 
 
 'O Leuchnar, I heard the trumpets sing it so, 
 therefore I stayed here for his message; what is it?' 
 4 That you must be Queen over us yet awhile, 
 Lady Gertha/ 
 
 4 Ah! and must I be ; may I not go to him at once ? 
 for do you know, Leuchnar/ (and she stooped 
 down low towards him, and laid her hand on his 
 head as he knelt) 'do you know, I saw him just 
 now lying pale and cold, waiting for me, his arms 
 stretched out this way towards me, his changed 
 eyes looking longingly/ 
 
 'O noblest/ he said, 'know you not with how 
 many perils we are beset? "whose spirit but his 
 can help us through, and with whom does it dwell 
 but with you?' 
 
 She wept: 4 Leuchnar, though he call for me so, 
 yet perhaps that is because he is sick and weak 
 and scarce knows what he says : and I know that 
 in his heart he desires above all things the safety 
 of this people that goes westward; so I will be 
 Queen till the last foe is vanquished: tell them 
 so/ Then he took her hand; how strangely as he 
 held it did the poor flesh of him quiver, how his 
 heart melted in the midst of his body ! He held 
 her hand and said, 4 1 am Queen Gertha's liegex 
 man/ Then sprung to his feet & called out aloud: 
 'Sir Barulf and knights all, come and do homx 
 80 
 
age to Gertha our Queen!' Then each man knelt Gertha' s 
 before her, and took her hand, and said, ' I am Lovers 
 Queen Gertha's liegeman/ 
 
 Afterwards all standing about her together, but 
 lower than she, clashed across her their swords 
 and axes thatrangout joyfully, wildly, half madly 
 in that quiet place; while the sun grew lower, so 
 that its light fell on her bosom, and her face above 
 looked out sad and pale and calm from among 
 the flashing steeL 
 
 So that day Gertha was made Queen* And then 
 all throughout the city you might have heard the 
 ringing of hammers on iron as the armourers did 
 their work, & the clinking of the masons' trowels 
 as they wrought atthe walls, strengtheningthem; 
 for the walls had grown somewhat weak, as it was 
 verymanyyears since any enemy had threatened 
 the city with a land army. And on the sixth day 
 came King Borrace, having wasted the land far 
 and wide as he marched* Now when he had sent a 
 herald to demand the surrender of that city, who 
 had not even been suffered to enter it, but had been 
 answered scornfully from the walls, he gnashed 
 his teeth, and mounting a great black horse and 
 arm ed with a mace rode about, orderin g his battle. 
 Then also Gertha, leaving her hall of Council, 
 went roundaboutthe walls with aband of knights: 
 over her robes of purple and crimson her glorious 
 hair flowed loose, and a gold crown marked her, 
 circling her head; while in her hand she bore a 
 m 81 
 
Gertha' s slim white rod for a leader's staff* Very faithful 
 Lovers and true were all those in the town, both soldiers 
 and women; but when she drewnear to any, their 
 faith grew so, that they seemed transported out 
 of themselves; the women wept for very love, and , 
 the men shouted 4 Gertha! Gertha!' till all the air 
 rang; and King Borrace muttered stupidlyfrom 
 between his teeth, 'They are praying to their 
 gods, the fools/ Then, turning about, he said to 
 one who was master of his artillery: 'Gasgan, son 
 of a dog, bring up the catapults & shoot me down 
 that woman there; there she goes, poking her 
 head over the battlements: quick, O wretch bex 
 gotten by the Devil's ram/ 
 
 So Gasgan fixed his catapult & aimed the rugged 
 stone at Gertha as she leaned over the wall, thinks 
 ing, for getting the fight and all, for him, just fora 
 single instant* He looked along the engine once, 
 twice, thrice; once, twice, thrice he started back 
 without letting the catch slip* 'Dog/ said Borx 
 race, riding up, ' why shootest not?' 
 The man looked up with drops of cold sweat 
 hanging to his brow, then stammered out: 'O 
 my lord, it is nothing*** that is, there is nothing 
 there now, nor was there when I fitted the levers; 
 but when my hand went to the bolt, each time I 
 saw standing before me that man, the king who 
 was slain the other day, his sword drawn in his 
 hand, & frowning on me terribly; I cannot shoot, 
 my Iord***O Lord, save me!' he shrieked at last, 
 82 
 
for Borrace, hitching up his great iron mace by its Gertha's 
 
 thong into his hand, began to swing it, putting Lovers 
 
 back his lips from his teeth and setting his head 
 
 forward* ' Son of a rotten sheep, can a ghost stop 
 
 a stone from a petraria? go and join King Olaf/ 
 
 So he struck him on the uplifted face, between 
 
 the eyes, and Gasgan fell dead without a groan, 
 
 not to be known any more by his wife or mother 
 
 even, for the mace had shattered his skulL 
 
 f Now then/ said Borrace, 4 1 will try the ghost of 
 
 this fellow whom I slew once, & whom I will slay 
 
 again, God being my help/ He leapt down from 
 
 his horse, and let his hand fall to the bolt; but just 
 
 as he did so, before him, calm, but frowning, stood 
 
 Olaf with bright^ gleaming sword & yellow hair 
 
 blown by the wind. ' Art thou not dead then?' 
 
 shouted Borrace furiously, and with a great curse 
 
 he drew the bolt. 
 
 The stone flew fiercely enough, but not towards 
 
 Gertha; it went sideways, and struck down two 
 
 of Borrace' s own lords, dashing the life out of 
 
 the first and maiming the other for life* Borrace 
 
 flung on to his horse, howling out like a mad dog, 
 
 4 Witch! Witch!' and like a man possessed gal' 
 
 loped toward the city as though he would leap 
 
 wall and ditch, screaming such mad blasphemy 
 
 as cannot be written* After him very swiftly galx 
 
 loped some fifty knights andmenxatxarms for his 
 
 protection, and but just in time; for one of the 
 
 city gates swung open, the drawbridge fell with 
 
 83 
 
Gertha's a heavy thump, & out rode a single knight armed 
 Lovers with a northern axe instead of a spear, slim in 
 figure, but seeming to be good at war* He dashed 
 through the first few of Borrace' s horsemen, who 
 came up in scattered fashion because they had 
 been riding as in a race, unhorsing a man to right 
 and left of him as he passed through them, then 
 made right at the king; as they met, Borrace 
 struck out blind with rage at the knight, who 
 putting aside the heavy mace smote him on the 
 side of the helm, that he tumbled clean out of the 
 saddle. 
 
 'Gertha! GerthaP shouted the knight, and he 
 caught Borrace' s horse by the bridle, and dashed 
 off towards the gate again, where in the flanking 
 towers the archers stood ready to cover his retreat; 
 for some twenty yards as they galloped furiously 
 on, Borrace dragged in the stirrup, then the stirx 
 nip/leather broke, and his horsemen seeing him 
 lie still there, gaveup the pursuit of the victorious 
 knight, which was the better advised, as the first 
 flight of arrows from the bowmen had already 
 slain three outright, and wounded five, and they 
 were again getting their strings to their ears* 
 'Gertha! Leuchnar for Gertha!' rang from the 
 knight again, as he turned just before he crossed 
 the drawbridge ; but the last of the enemies stood 
 up in his stirrups and poised his lance in act to 
 throw; but before it left his hand an arrow had 
 leapt through his throat, & he fell dead* ' Gertha!' 
 84 
 
shouted the archer* And then again the drawx Gertha's 
 
 bridge swayed up, letting little stones fall into Lovers 
 
 the moat from it, down rattled the portcullis, and 
 
 the heavy gate swung to* 
 
 Then presently arose mightily the cry of 'Gertha! 
 
 Gertha, the Queen P 
 
 But withal, when the pirates found that King 
 
 Borrace was not slain, but only very much bruised, 
 
 they advanced their engines, and the catapults and 
 
 balistae and rams shook the wall, and made many 
 
 sore cracks in the older parts, and the arrows flew 
 
 like hail, and the 'cats/ great wooden towers cov/ 
 
 ered with skins to protect them from fire, began 
 
 to rise against the town* Nevertheless, through 
 
 all that weary day, though the defenders were 
 
 so few for the great length of wall, they fought 
 
 cheerfully and with good faith, like the men they 
 
 were* 
 
 So thatwhen they brought news to battered King 
 
 Borrace, who lay tossing on his bed, concerning 
 
 howlittleprogress they hadmade,he gnashed his 
 
 teeth, and cursed and was right mad* 
 
 And all the while through the thunder of the 
 
 balista^stones against the walkthrough the howlx 
 
 ing of the catapult stones as they came among 
 
 them into the city, through the gaunt uplifting 
 
 of the misshapen rams, through the noise of the 
 
 sledgexhammers clamping the iron bands of the 
 
 catxtowers, through the whirr of arrows, through 
 
 wounds and weariness, and death of friends, still 
 
Gertha's rose the shout of 'Gertha! Gertha the Queen! 
 
 Lovers Gertha I* 
 
 Guess whether many people lay awake that night, 
 or rather whether any slept at all, save those who 
 were utterly wearied out by that day's fighting 
 or by their own restless excitement. Many did 
 not even try to sleep, but sat round about the cold 
 hearth telling stories; brave stories, mostly of 
 the good old times that were fathers to the good 
 times now; or else they would go about the walls 
 in an eager fever to see what was going on; and 
 some there were who stood all that night by the 
 bed of some sorely wounded friend; and some, 
 mother, lover, friend, stood also by bedsides hold' 
 ing the cold hands with bitter thoughts that were 
 hard to bear* 
 
 That night was dark, with much gusty wind and 
 a drizzle of rain, therefore, though it was August 
 and the days long, yet it was quite dark by nine 
 o'clock, and a little after twilight the enemies' pet/ 
 rariae left off playing, so that the besieged had 
 rest : but before daybreak the drizzle had changed 
 to steady rain, the wind having fallen* Even be^ 
 fore dawn the camp was a/stir, and two hours after/ 
 wards the cat/towers were again building, and the 
 battering had begun again* 
 
 And so that day passed, through the rainy hours 
 of it; and about two hours after noon the enemy 
 tried to scale the lowest part of the wall near the 
 harbour* Thereupon Gertha came to that part 
 86 
 
and looked on the fighters from a tower, with a Gertha's 
 
 circle of knights round about* Therefore her peox Lovers 
 
 pie waxed so valiant, that though the pirates, 
 
 fighting like madmen, fixed the ladders to the 
 
 wall even through the storm of arrows and stones 
 
 (for the tide was out and there was no water now 
 
 round about the wall), they were nevertheless 
 
 driven back with great slaughter* Also, on the 
 
 other side of the town, one of the catxtowers was 
 
 fired, and many perished miserably therein* 
 
 That evening Gertha sat and took counsel with 
 
 her lords & knights ; whereon Leuchnar arose and 
 
 said, 'Noble lady, we must make a sortie, and 
 
 collect every man, and every boy too,to guard the 
 
 walls meanwhile, for we are very few to guard so 
 
 great a city, and the enemyisverymany; half our 
 
 men are utterly worn out with these two days' 
 
 fighting, coming so close upon their long march ; 
 
 the walls, either old and crumbling, or new and 
 
 still damp, are cracked in twenty places : they are 
 
 making a great raft for the crossing of the moat; 
 
 go to the open window, lady, and you will hear, 
 
 though it is night, the sound of their hammers 
 
 busy on it* Wlien King Borrace can put on his 
 
 armour again, (would that I had slain him outx 
 
 right!) we shall be attacked in twenty places at 
 
 once, and then I fear it will go hard with the fair 
 
 city ; we must make a night attack, and do all the 
 
 burning and slaying that we may/ 
 
 'Dear knight/ said Barulf, 'you are young and 
 
 87 
 
Gertha' s wise* This thing must be done: let some one get 
 Lovers together twothousandof our best men,and those 
 that are least wearied; let them be divided into 
 two bands, and march out, the one by Gate St* 
 George, the other by the East Gate; you, Sir 
 Leuchnar, shall lead the one out of Gate St* 
 George, and I will lead the other/ 
 He said this last quite eagerly, and the colour 
 sprang up to his face: Gertha looked at him half 
 shyly, then spoke to him* 
 
 4 Nay, Sir Barulf, are you not then too old for 
 blushing? Except for the last word your speech 
 was very wise, but that spoilt it rather; for you 
 must stay behind with us, some one else must 
 go/ She smiled serenely as she spoke; indeed she 
 seemed quite happy now, seeing prophetically 
 perhaps that the end drew near* 
 4 And I?' said Leuchnar, 'may I not go?' 
 4 Go, fair knight, and the Lord keep you from all 
 harm/ 
 
 But Barulf said, smiling also : 'As for me, Queen 
 Gertha, you know best, so I will stay behind, and 
 hope to get a good drive at the three Dukes; they 
 will keep, doubtless; may the Lord make their 
 hands light! but who shall go in my stead?' 
 She looked round the noble assembly, and her 
 eyes fixed on a youngknightwhosat over against 
 her; their eyes met, and he seemed to Gertha to 
 resemble somewhat her king, who was waiting 
 for her near the poplarxtrees* So she said: 'Sir 
 
knight, I know not your name ; you I mean, with Gertha's 
 
 the blue surcoat and the golden chevron on it; but Lovers 
 
 will you take this service upon you ?' 
 
 He had been gazing at her all the time they had 
 
 sat there, and when he heard her speaking to him 
 
 it must have seemed to him as if they two were 
 
 alone together, for he looked this way and that, 
 
 just as though he feared that some one might hear 
 
 what they said one to the other; he rose and fell 
 
 before her feet, not knowing if he were in Heaven 
 
 or not, for his yearning was so strong that it almost 
 
 satisfied itself* He muttered something almost 
 
 inaudible about his unworthiness* She gazed at 
 
 him as he lay there with that inexpressible pity 
 
 and tenderness in her face, which made all men 
 
 love her so, trust in her* 
 
 4 Wait, fair knight, and rise, I pray you ; have you 
 
 Father or Mother alive yet?' 
 
 4 N o, Lady/ he said, still kneeling, like a suppliant 
 
 for dear life* 
 
 4 Any sisters or brothers ? ' 
 
 4 None, Lady Gertha, now/ 
 
 4 Have you a Lover?' 
 
 ' Yea; one whom I love/ 
 
 Oh how the look of pity deepened in her eyes! 
 
 what wonder that every nerve trembled in his 
 
 body? 
 
 4 And would she give it to your charge to lead a 
 
 desperate sortie, young as you are, with life all 
 
 before you, as men say?' 
 
 n 80 
 
Gertha's 'Will she bid me go ?' he said. 
 
 Lovers ' Poor boy ! yet go* In the aftertime we shall meet 
 again, whatever happens, and you and Olaf will 
 be friends, and you will see all his glory. "What 
 is your name?' 
 'Richard/ 
 
 4 Farewell, Richard/ and she gave him her hand 
 to kiss; then he departed, saying no word, and 
 sat outside for a minute or two, quite bewildered 
 with his happiness* 
 
 Then came Leuchnar, and they went together to 
 see concerning the men they wanted, and as they 
 went they told each other that which was nearest 
 their hearts: then said Richard: 'This is about 
 the happiest time of my life, since I was a child; 
 shall we not fight well, Sir Leuchnar ?' 
 'Yes/ he said, 'we ought both to praise God, Sir 
 Richard, that, things being so, He has shown us 
 so clearly what to do; I remember now how often 
 in the past days I used after my fashion to tor^ 
 ment myself with thinking how ever I should 
 pass the time if it chanced that my love (when it 
 came, for love of all kinds was long in coming to 
 my dull heart) should fail me; and now God calls 
 us merely to spend a few hours in glorious fight, 
 and then doubtless He will give us forgetfulness 
 till we see her again : and all this I have not at 
 all deserved, for though men's lips formed thenv 
 selves to speak my name often, praising it for 
 my many good deeds, yet the heart knoweth its 
 90 ' 
 
own bitterness, and I know wherefore I did such Gertha's 
 
 things ; not for God's glory, but for my glory/ Lovers 
 
 4 Does not God then accept a man's deeds, even 
 
 if he stumble up to do them through mixed mo/ 
 
 tives, part bad and part good? Is it not written, 
 
 By their fruits ye shall know them ? And your 
 
 fruits * how often when I have heard men talk/ 
 
 ing of you have I longed to be like you, so brave 
 
 and wise and good ! ' 
 
 4 Ah ! the fruits, the fruits ! ' said Leuchnar ; 4 when 
 
 I think what the lawful fruits of my thoughts 
 
 were,I shudderto see hownear the Devil's House 
 
 I have passed* Pray for me in the battle, Richard/ 
 
 4 You are very good and humble, Leuchnar/ he 
 
 said, 'and I know not what good the prayers of 
 
 such an one as I am could do you, but I will pray* 
 
 Yet I myself have been careless about deeds at 
 
 all; I have loved beauty so much that I fear if 
 
 any crime had at any time stood between me and 
 
 beauty I should have committed that crime to 
 
 reach it; yet has God been so kind to me, and 
 
 kindest of all in this, that I who have done no/ 
 
 thing all my life long yet, should do thisand then 
 
 die/ 
 
 4 And it is good to do one thing, and then die/ 
 
 said Leuchnar; 'farewell/ 
 
 So they departed each to his own band; and by 
 
 this time the rain had ceased, the wind had risen, 
 
 and was now blowing strong from the sea; the 
 
 clouds were clearing off somewhat, but it was not 
 
 91 
 
Gertha's quite bright; moreover the moon, though it had 
 Lovers risen, was pretty much behind the clouds* 
 
 The two thousand horsemen went, each thoux 
 sand in its own direction, very quietly along the 
 streets ; they opened Gate St* George quite quiet' 
 ly also, and Leuchnar passed out at the head of 
 his men* Now on each side of that gate was a catx 
 tower; so a hundred men were sent to each of 
 these to burn them first; they were then to follow 
 the main body, doing such damage as they could 
 to the petrariae along their way* Nowthis side of 
 the camp happened to be very carelessly guarded, 
 scarcely guarded at all in fact; there was no one in 
 the cats, & the guards about fifty in number, who 
 ought to have been watching them, were asleep 
 some twenty yards off; so both parties succeeded 
 in firing the cats, taking care to put such store of 
 to wand flax mingled with pitch into them that it 
 should be impossible to drown the flames; more/ 
 over the guards, awakened by the trampling of 
 the horses and roar of the flames, were put to the 
 sword as they rose, sleepy, bewildered, unable to 
 use their arms: then the two hundred men, burn' 
 ing as they went along the altogether unguarded 
 petrariae on their path, soon joined the main 
 body, & they all rode on swiftly toward the camp, 
 just beginning to stir because of the noise, and the 
 flare of the burning cats* A few minutes' gallop 
 brought Leuchnar to the foremost tents, which 
 were fired, and then through the smoke & flame 
 92 
 
Leuchnar dashed into King Borrace's camp at Gertha's 
 
 the head of his thousand horsemen. Lovers 
 
 At first there was scarce any resistance ; the men 
 
 were cut down and speared as they ran half/armed 
 
 from out of the burning tents, & the flames spread 
 
 in the rising wind; but the alarm too spreading, 
 
 and many bands coming up in good order, Leuclv 
 
 nar was surrounded almost before he knew it; so 
 
 in a pause in the fight he looked about him to see 
 
 how he and his could die most to the advantage 
 
 of the People; he listened and looked toward the 
 
 E ast Gate ; there were no flames to be seen in that 
 
 quarterwhere Richard was to have fired the great 
 
 balistaeand the rams & the raft for the crossing of 
 
 the moat; for, to leave Leuchnar about to do some* 
 
 thing desperate, some of King Borrace's men on 
 
 that side had heard a stir in the town, and the 
 
 bravest of them had gone to tell him : for at this 
 
 time he was well nigh mad with his foil, & raged 
 
 like the Devil himself, to whom indeed he must 
 
 have been nearly related, and the service of tellx 
 
 ing him anything like bad news was indeed a desx 
 
 perate one* However, as I said, some brave men 
 
 plucked up heart of grace to go and tell him that 
 
 the townsmen seemed to be about to make a sally 
 
 on that side of the camp* 
 
 He answered them first of all by throwing four 
 
 javelins at them, one after another; for he had a 
 
 sheaf of those weapons put byhis bedside for that 
 
 very purpose; one of them was wounded by this 
 
 93 
 
Gertha's javeliivflight, the others by careful dodging manx 
 Lovers aged to avoid him: then at last he listened to them, 
 and being rather sobered ordered 5000 horsemen 
 to fetch a compass and charge Richard's party in 
 the rearwhen he was well drawn out towards the 
 balistae, which, as they were larger on this side 
 (for it was on this side that the enemy hoped most 
 to make a breach), were farther from the walls 
 that they might be out of the range of thetownsx 
 men's engines* 
 
 So when Richard came out of the East Gate very 
 softly, this band of 5000 men was quite close to 
 him, and the balistae were guarded by a great 
 body of archers and slingers; and neither horsex 
 men nor archers could be seen, because, the night 
 being gusty, the moon was at that time behind 
 the clouds : so then Richard coming near to one 
 of the great balistae sent aside fifty men to fire 
 it, who were straightway attacked in front and 
 flank by arrow^flights, so that all those who were 
 not armed in proof were either slain or too badly 
 wounded to retreat; the rest rode back in haste 
 to the main body, which had halted as soon as 
 Richard saw how matters went: then indeed 
 would Sir Richard and all his men have died 
 without helping Gertha or the people that went 
 westward much, as men count help : but the capx 
 tain of those 5000 thought he would not attack 
 Richard from behind, lest he should ride down 
 his own people in the darkness, who he saw had 
 
 94 
 
already had some contest with the townsmen; Gertha' s 
 
 but thinking that he would turn at once toward Lovers 
 
 the town meant to fall on him as he retreated with x 
 
 out order* 
 
 But Richard, seeing well how things had really 
 
 gone, turned round to his men, and called out: 
 
 * Keep well together, and fight well for Gertha;' 
 
 then 4 Sound trumpets, and Richard for Gertha ! 
 
 So they dashed right at the camp at the gallop, 
 
 and entered it close to Borrace's tent, where it 
 
 was not deep but straggling* 
 
 Now Borrace, thinking that nothing else could 
 
 happen but that the townsmen should all be slain 
 
 closetothe walls, was standingnear histent,talkx 
 
 ing to some of his Captains, and armed all save 
 
 his helm; for he was now well or nearly well of 
 
 his bruises, & intended to lead an attack the next 
 
 day* So there he stood, and four Captains with 
 
 him, he twirling his mace about in his nervous 
 
 excitement, and sometimes looking uneasily at 
 
 those that stood by, as if he thought they were 
 
 getting something out of him* Judge of his as^ 
 
 tonishment when he heard Richard's shout of 
 
 4 Gertha/ and then the thunder of the horsehoofs* 
 
 4 Curse that witch ! ' he ground out from between 
 
 his teeth, 4 shall I never hear the last of her? only 
 
 I think, when I have seen her well burnt out of 
 
 hand, after that'*** 
 
 'For your life,my lord! for your life! they are com/ 
 
 ing this way, they will be over us in a minute!' 
 
 95 
 
Gertha's And he turned & ran, and ran well too; and Borx 
 Lovers racealso began torun,and gotclear outof theway 
 of the main body, and would have escaped but that 
 a certain knight, espying him, and knowing well 
 the villainous wolf's face of the man, as he looked 
 over his shoulder, under the clearing moon , turned 
 off a little and rode at him while he ran like ten 
 men, crying out with a great laugh as he knocked 
 him over: 'Twice, O King Borrace!' 
 And indeed King Borrace was not knocked over 
 thrice, for this time the brains were fairly knocked 
 out of his smashed head by the great horsehoofs, 
 the knight having disdained to use his sword on 
 a runaway, and besides, being a genial sort of man, 
 he had a kind of contemptuous pity for so stupid 
 a brute, and thought to give him a chance* 
 However when thehorsemen had ridden past, the 
 Captains came backto see first of all what had be/- 
 come of their Lord and Master, for they had seen 
 him go over, and with very mixed feelings,They 
 found him as I said, with his brains knocked out 
 and quite dead; whereat the first, Lord Robert, 
 lifted his eyebrows and gave along whistle in utter 
 astonishment that so slight a matter as a horse 
 should have slain him, for his head seemed to be 
 solid and mostly of oak* But Sebald, the second 
 of them, lifted his foot and dughis heel deep in the 
 already fearfully lacerated face of the dead tyrant, 
 saying as he did so : 4 Beast and devil, remember 
 my sister! I told you then I would do this one time 
 96 
 
orother' (and again he stamped) /said so openly, Gertha's 
 
 yet you took me into your service instead of killx Lovers 
 
 ing me as I hoped you would, madman that you 
 
 were/ 
 
 For in his madness of halksatisfied vengeance it 
 
 seemed to him that he had slain him with his own 
 
 hands; but suddenly it came across him how it 
 
 was, and he said: 'Yet, O God! to think that I am 
 
 disappointed inmyrevenge! yet still it is pleasant 
 
 to do this, though another man slew him;' and 
 
 again his heel came down on the dead King's 
 
 wretched face: then he stooped down and put his 
 
 hands to the warm blood that flowed from the 
 
 wounds,andraisedthemtohislips and drank, and 
 
 the draught seemed to please him* 
 
 Meanwhile Gherard, the third Captain, who had 
 
 at first stood still without saying a word and apx 
 
 parently in deep thought, suddenly started, and 
 
 catching hold of Sebald by the shoulder said sav 
 
 agely:'Fool! can't you stop that play/acting? Keep 
 
 it till you are by yourself, for it is thrown away 
 
 upon us, I can tell you; and don't you see all of you 
 
 that this must not be known ? quick ! quick ! help 
 
 me to carry him into the tent; here Sebald, man, 
 
 lift and quick* Ah!' he said, turning round and 
 
 glancing about uneasily; 4 where is Erwelt? But 
 
 you carry him while I'*** And he darted off after 
 
 the fourth Captain (Erwelt), who had somehow 
 
 disappeared, a man of mincing manners, very 
 
 elaborately dressed* 
 
 o 97 
 
Gertha's So Sebaldand Robert, as they lifted the body, saw 
 Lovers Gherard as he ran in great bounds towards E rwelt ; 
 they saw his hand slide down to his dagger, but 
 there was no weapon in the sheath; he ground his 
 teeth with vexation, but still went on till he had 
 overtaken his man; then he touched him on the 
 shoulder and said: 'E rwelt, I want to speak to 
 you/ ' Well/ said the other, 'what is it?' But his 
 heart sank and he felt as if Death stood before him, 
 dart and all, as indeed he did; for Gherard was a 
 very strong man, and, as he saw Erwelt'shand go 
 down towards the dagger/hilt, he felled him with 
 a quick blowbetween the eyes,then before he could 
 recover was kneelin g on him; he dragged the broad 
 doublexedged dagger from its jewelled sheath, and 
 buried it thrice in Erwelt's breast, then drew it 
 across his throat from ear to ear; then, thrusting 
 the dagger back again into its sheath, after he had 
 carefully wiped it on the white and blue velvet of 
 the dead man's dress, he sprang up and ran back 
 towards the King's tent, leaving the body to lie 
 piteously under the moon which was shining out 
 from dark purple hollows between the clouds* 
 The light of it flashed on the poor fop's jewels, 
 shone on his upturned face and gashed throat and 
 feeble nerveless hands* How much more dreadful 
 was that one corpse than all the many lying now 
 nearer to the walls, than those even who lay with 
 ghastly breakings of the whole frame, torn by great 
 stones, or slain by wounds that struck themhap/ 
 
hazard in strange unlikely places; or slain as they Gertha's 
 
 lay already wounded; orwho lay with their bodies Lovers 
 
 twisted into unimaginable writhings brought ax 
 
 bout by pain and fear* All these and many more, 
 
 many, very many of each sort,they were altogether 
 
 less horrible than this one corpse of a murdered 
 
 man* 
 
 The murderer found the others already in the tent, 
 
 for Robert had said: 'Sebald, don't let us see that; 
 
 you and I know nothing about it for the present, 
 
 for we must hold together; and for my part I vote 
 
 that we let Gherard work for us, he is such a clever 
 
 fellow/ 
 
 Sebald made no answer; his eyes were dry, his 
 
 throat was dry, his heart was dry with intense 
 
 thinking if by any means he could extend his venx 
 
 geance beyond the present world* He thought of 
 
 all the curses he had ever heard; how meaningless 
 
 and uninventive they all seemed when set beside 
 
 his hatred! he thought so that I know not into 
 
 what uttermost hell he had dragged his own heart; 
 
 he certainly did not feel as if he were on earth; his 
 
 head grew dizzy, he could scarcely walk under his 
 
 burden, but somehow between them they manx 
 
 aged to get the body into the tent unperceived* 
 
 Then he thought: 'I can bear this no longer, I 
 
 must think of something else just now; but I will 
 
 make it the work of my whole life hereafter/ 
 
 SothenGherardburstin,mutteringfrombetween 
 
 his teeth: 'So much for one marplot; 'and Sebald 
 
 99 
 
Gcrtha's woke up and was in the world again* So they 
 Lovers began to talk, Robert sitting down and with his 
 elbow on the table, stroking his cheek with his 
 openhand; Sebald standing still, with knitbrows, 
 and bloodstained hands crossed over his breast; 
 while Gherard walked up and down, twisting his 
 fingers together behind his back, his cheek all ax 
 flush &his eyes glistening***andErweltlaystiffx 
 ening in the moonlight* So those three fell axplot/ 
 ting* 
 
 Meanwhile such a hubbub and confusion had 
 been going on before the walls, as if the fiends 
 were loose; for the archers, when Richard had 
 passed beyond hope of pursuit, having sent a few 
 arrows into the darkness at nothing, turned and 
 looked about them* Now they knew nothing at 
 all concerningthose horsemen whohad been sent 
 to take Richard in the rear, so, seeing some helx 
 mets glittering in the somewhat doubtful moon^ 
 light, they advanced a little towards them, and 
 thinking as a matter of course that they werefrom 
 thetown,senttwoorthreeflightsofarrows among 
 them as an experiment, getting ready to runaway 
 in case they should be too many for them : doing 
 all this before the horsemen could shout out that 
 they were from the camp ; and when they did so, 
 the townsmen, seeing clearly that Richard and 
 his men were away, opened a heavy fire on every/- 
 thing that they saw, & Borrace's archers believed 
 that the horsemen lied, and still shot all they 
 loo 
 
might* Whereon the horsemen changed their Gertha's 
 minds, and settled that these were another band Lovers 
 of men from the town whom they had not counted 
 on, and so charged with a good will, especially as 
 the longxbowsand cross-bows and petrariaewere 
 playing on them diligently from the cityxwalls* 
 Now the archers were more numerous than the 
 horsemen, and, though not so well armed, fought 
 stoutly, throwingaway their bowsandusingtheir 
 axes and swords; nor did they find out their misx 
 take till many were slain both of horsemen and 
 archers, and even then they were quite ready to 
 go on with that work from sheer rage and vexax 
 tion of heart ; but restraining themselves, and bex 
 ing restrained by their leaders, they got separated 
 somehow, and marched back to their own quarx 
 ters, where one and all swore that they would stay, 
 nor move again that night for man or devil, whatx 
 ever happened* 
 
 And so they fell to drinking all they might* But 
 Sir Richard and all his, having won through the 
 camp with but little opposition (for the enemy 
 wereall drawn off otherxwhere), crossed the river 
 that lay beyond, by a broad shallow ford that he 
 knew well (higher up it passed by that cottage), 
 then took mere bridlexways and waggonxroads 
 through the woods that lay beyond the river, after 
 he had told his men that he intended making a 
 circuit and falling from behind on that part of the 
 camp where Leuchnar was* 'For he is probably 
 
 lot 
 
 
Gertha's hard pressed by this time/ said he/ the sortie be/ 
 Lovers ing from the first somewhat desperate and wild, 
 though necessary/ And he made this circuit lest 
 he should be cut off before he could reach Leuch/ 
 nar ; had he known that there would be no pursuit 
 (there would have been but for Borrace's death, 
 and the happy clash between the horsemen and 
 archers)*** had he known all this he would cer/ 
 tainly not have gone so far about, or gone through 
 such intricate ways where the men could not help 
 straggling* So the rain/drops fell in showers on 
 their armour as they passed, from the low tree/ 
 boughs brushed by their crests & lowered spears; 
 the moon flashed on the wet leaves that danced in 
 the rushing sea/wind; with whirr of swift wings 
 the wood/pigeon left the wood* 
 H ow often had Richard wandered here in the past 
 days ! what thoughts were his in those old times, 
 of the glory of his coming manhood! what won/ 
 der at the stories of lovers that he read, and their 
 deeds ! what brave purposes never to be fulfilled ! 
 yet he meant them then honestly enough, yet he 
 was to do one deed at the last ; if only one, that was 
 something; and as he thought this he straightway 
 drove thoughts of all other things from his mind, 
 and thought of what he should do now* 
 He called a halt, and listened; then perceiving 
 clearly that there was no pursuit at all, he led his 
 men out of the woods, by a way he knew well, 
 round toward Gate Saint George, but cautiously 
 102 
 
and quietly for fear of an attack from the camp* Gertha's 
 Then afterawhiletheyhaltedagain,andheheard Lovers 
 the noise of the irregular melee I have told you 
 about, and could scarce account for it; he heard 
 the noise of the fight about where Leuchnar was; 
 and he heard withal another sound that made 
 his heart beat with hope: it was a farxoff sound 
 swelling and fainting in the rise and fall of the 
 southwest wind that blew from over the sea, the 
 sound of triumphant trumpets : he leaned forx 
 ward from his saddle to listen better, and many 
 a soldier's eyes sparkled as he cried out suddenly, 
 4 Victory! it is Edwin! quick! to Leuchnar!' So 
 away they went toward Gate Saint George at a 
 smart pace* 
 
 They drew rein when they came within a few 
 minutes' gallop from the camp, that their horses 
 might not go blown into the battle; then advanced 
 with as little noise as possible, till they drew near 
 and saw the enormous masses of the enemy surgx 
 ing round something which they knew well to be 
 Leuchnar in a desperate case. Then shouted their 
 leader, ' Richard! Richard for GerthaP and with 
 one mighty charge, which scattered the enemy 
 to right and left, they were buried in the enorx 
 mous multitude that was in vain striving to break 
 Leuchnar' s array. For he, trying to win his way 
 back to the city that he might sally out at the East 
 Gate to the aid of Sir Richard,beset as he thought 
 he was: as he was doing this he was first cut off 
 
 103 
 
Gertha's from the city and driven back towards the camp, 
 Lovers and then surrounded* Whereupon the horsemen 
 having dismounted formed a great square with 
 closely planted shields, and long spears set out 
 like the teeth of a great beast, and on this square 
 King Borrace's horsemen, that were King Borx 
 race's no more now, had wasted their strength for 
 long: for howsoever many men of it were slain by 
 the arrows and slings or by the hurling of the long 
 lances, yet the living filled up the places of the 
 dead, and the square, though lessening every mo/ 
 ment, was not broken when Richard made that 
 charge, and joined Leuchnar, having hewn his 
 way through with most of his men to that square 
 of serried spears, ' Brother I* he shouted; 'hold out 
 yet awhile, for Edwin is coming in triumph over 
 the sea, and we must live till then/ 
 So they joined their two bands, & made a thicker 
 and larger square than before, having cleared a 
 space by one or two desperate charges, and soon 
 the fight was fiercer than ever* But the men fell 
 fast before the arro wflights, & they grew utterly 
 wearied with standing there on foot; in pauses of 
 the fight very anxiously did Richard and Leuchx 
 nar listen, and they heard a snatch now and then 
 of the dear trumpet/music, and hoped, or tried to 
 hope : yet it seemed that they must die before help 
 came, the greater part at least* Then an arrow 
 whistled, and Leuchnar staggered and bowed for/ 
 ward; he was wounded, not mortally indeed, but 
 104 
 
it dizzied and confused him* Almost at the same Gertha's 
 time the crowd opened, and there rose a shout of Lovers 
 'Gherard! GherardP Forthwith afresh band of 
 horsemen charged, all armed in proof and splenx 
 didly mounted, with Gherard himself at the head 
 ofthem* 
 
 Howit all happened Richard scarce knew, but so 
 it was that they broke the terrible hedge of spears, 
 and presently each man found himself fighting 
 separately, or with one or two friends about him ; 
 tired men ttfo against fresh ones, men on foot 
 against horsemen, & all things seemed desperate* 
 Yet even then, between all the clash of the battle, 
 Richard heard the roar of the bells from all the 
 belfries and the shouting of the people* Edwin 
 had landed* Then as he thought of this he grew 
 half mad to think that they should die before the 
 very eyes of their friends, and shouted out: 'Ger^ 
 tha! fight on, brave lads, and gather together all 
 you may r He with some half dozen of his own 
 men tried to gather others again, but, while he 
 struggled desperately, his great sword flashing 
 this way and that, but rising duller from every 
 stroke because of the blood on it,hewas sudden^ 
 ly borne away, and Leuchnar beheld him alone 
 amidst a ring of foes, saw his sword still flashing 
 for a little, then saw him fall with many wounds 
 and lie dead, at peace at last* 
 He himself, though surrounded by a band of 
 friends, was sorely wounded; and, sick with pain 
 p 105 
 
 
Gertha' s and loss of blood, he had nearly fainted; and the 
 Lovers few around him were falling, falling fast under 
 axe and sword & spear : when lo ! the gates open, 
 and the cry of 'Edwin for GerthaP rings all about, 
 thousands pour out of the great gates, over the 
 bridge, there is a sharp fight, and the bodies at 
 least of Leuchnar and Richard are rescued. For 
 the pirates are driven back to their camp, not to 
 stay quiet there for long; for even as they stand at 
 bay about their tents the word goes that Borrace 
 is slain ; nor only so ; the moon sinks, the east bex 
 gins to redden, and within an hour after her set' 
 ting many new spears fleck the clear light; the 
 advanced guard of the Lord Hugh's victorious 
 army, who have marched night/long to come to 
 the help of the fair city* 
 
 Close them all about, brave sons of the men that 
 go westward! Borrace is dead, Gherard is dead, 
 Erwelt is dead, Sebald lies bleeding to death 
 from four sore wounds, Robert fled soon, but was 
 drowned in crossing the river* The cats are on 
 fire, the petrariae are in ashes, all the camp is one 
 blaze, everywhere the foe are throwingtheir arms 
 away & crying for quarter; soon they are all slain, 
 wounded, or prisoners* 
 
 Meanwhile a messenger, pale and worn out, is 
 brought to Gertha, and kneels down before her 
 feet; he says : ' Lady, I have a message for you/ 
 (O Gertha! words spoken before*) 
 4 Quick, good man/ she says, 'for these things 
 106 
 
draw to an end;' and a smile of quiet triumph Gertha's 
 
 passes across her pale face* Lovers 
 
 4 Three days ago/ he says, 'the Emperor strove 
 
 to force the passes; he and three of his captains 
 
 were slain, and my Lord Adolf will be here soon/ 
 
 4 Thank God ! ' she says; 'but you, poor man, what 
 
 reward for you ? ah ! sleep has overmastered him / 
 
 For he has fallen forward before her so that his 
 
 head rests on her feet; she touches him, takes his 
 
 hand to raise him up; it is stonexcold, he is dead* 
 
 'But for these men of King Borrace; let the 
 
 wounded go to our hospitals, that they may learn 
 
 there somethingof love which they havenot even 
 
 dreamed about as yet; let the slain be buried, and 
 
 lie under the earth, under the grass among the 
 
 roots of the land they came to conquer: let the 
 
 prisoners depart unarmed, but with provisions 
 
 for their journey, let them cross the frontier, and 
 
 never trouble the good land more, lest a worse 
 
 thing befall them/ 
 
 CHAPTER V* WHAT EDITH THE 
 HANDMAIDEN SAW FROM THE 
 WARxSADDLE. 
 
 And in the fresh morning sat Gertha the Queen 
 in the body, while her spirit was a long way off, 
 and round about her sat the Lords and Knights 
 with flushed joyful faces, she alone pale though 
 calm and serene, for she too was joyfuL 
 Then into the midst of the great hall they bore 
 
 107 
 
Gertha's Leuchnar dying from his many wounds, not in 
 Lovers great pain, for his spirit was leaving his body 
 gently, as if he were worn out merely* And Ger/ 
 tha rose from her throne and went to meet them 
 that bore him, and there was a flutter along the 
 tapestry that the hall was hung with, as the wind 
 rushed through the opened door, and therewithal 
 Gertha woke, her spirit came again as if Olaf had 
 sent it* So she gazed at him as he had hoped she 
 might, as a queen on her faithful subject: 'before 
 this, often a certain uneasy feeling, not pity exx 
 actly,used to come across her when she saw him; 
 it used to seem such a hard thing to her that it 
 should be thus ; it was just such a feeling as might 
 have turned to love with one less constant than 
 Gertha: but now even this was gone, and Leuchx 
 nar felt that it was so, even by the look of her eyes 
 upon him* 
 
 And he, raisinghimself, hardly said to her: 'Queen 
 Gertha, I am come to say farewell for a little/ 
 4 Poor Leuchnar, who loved me so!' 
 'Nay/he said, 'happy Leuchnar, who loves you 
 still! In the time to come it maybe that lovers, 
 when they have not all they wish for, will say : 
 Oh that we might be as Leuchnar, who died for 
 Queen Gertha in the old time !' 
 'True/ she said; 'farewell, Sir Leuchnar/ 
 Oh! how eagerly he took her hand! 'Happy 
 Leuchnar/ he said faintly; then, ' Domine, in max 
 nus tuas/ and he fell asleep, his head falling back* 
 108 
 
For a short time she stood, holdin g his dead hand; Gertha' s 
 then gently disengaged it & laid it with the other Lovers 
 one, crossing them downwards* Then they carx 
 ried him out again silently; and again ran that 
 tremor through the gold'wrought hangings, and 
 her spirit had gone away again* 
 And within awhile, as the great sun rose higher, 
 came the sound of trumpets, and the roar of the 
 bells from all the belfries: Adolf was come* How 
 near the end drew! 
 
 That noontide was windless, cloudless, and very 
 bright, except that a soft haze had sprung up 
 everywhere from the moist earth, into which all 
 things far and fair melted* 
 
 She came from the midst of that knot of Lords 
 that had clustered about her, and with her dark 
 hair loose, stood in the balcony above the people, 
 and through the hearts of all thrilled her clear 
 speech* 
 
 4 God has been very good to us, friends, and we 
 have conquered, and now you must let me go as 
 you promised* And you may grieve that I must 
 go, and wish me back often, but still I must go: it 
 is not only because I wish to go that I must leave 
 you, but I cannot help it: I think, nay am sure, that 
 this also is best both for you & me* If I were queen 
 much longer you would be disappointed with me, 
 yet would not say so, because you love me* 
 Think now! I am but Gertha, the peasant's 
 daughter, and I know it was only the spirit of your 
 
 109 
 
Gertha' s dead lord working in me that made you love me 
 Lovers so. But if I were queen for long I should come to 
 be only Gertha again; so I must go* And if you 
 will, let Barulf, who is old, but very wise, be king/ 
 There was sad silence for a little when she had 
 finished, then a confused sound of weeping, and 
 sobs, and earnest wishes went up to wards the balx 
 cony, where she stood with her arms lying down 
 her side : already she looked as if she were a differ- 
 ent kind of beingfrom them: she said: ' Will you 
 have Barulf for your king? if you will, say so to 
 pleasure me; then farewell/ 
 They shouted, ' Barulf! God save King Barulf!' 
 and lo ! even in that shout she had vanished, like 
 an angel that comes from heaven when God lends 
 him,and goes to heaven again when God calls him* 
 
 Gertha walked over the field of battle; no meadow 
 of sweet waving grass & lovely flowers, but some- 
 thingvery horrible to gaze at, to pass over* Yet she 
 did not seem to takenoteof any of its horrors: her 
 handmaiden was with her; but when they came 
 within fifty yards of the aspen circle where he lay, 
 she charged her to stop, and watch all that came 
 to pass there, that she mighttell the people here- 
 after* So the handmaiden sat down there on the 
 mournful battle-field, on some great war/saddle 
 that had been thrown down there* 
 But Gertha, when she had kissed her, left her and 
 walked toward those aspen-trees; she was clad in 
 no 
 
her old peasants' raiment again, and was quite Gertha's 
 without ornament of gold or jewels; only her black Lovers 
 hair hung braided on either side of her face, and 
 round about her head was a garland of yellow flow' 
 ering stone-crop, such as he wore in his helmet that 
 battlexday: but now when she entered the circle of 
 aspens there seemed to be silence over all the earth, 
 except that when she first stepped amongthe shad' 
 ows of the trees, a faint breeze rose out of the south, 
 and the lightly xhung leaves shivered, the golden 
 haze trembled* 
 
 Now although all the rest of the battle/field was 
 trodden into bloody mud, dry now again, but 
 loaded with all dreadful things, this spot yet kept 
 the summer flowers, neither was there any mark 
 of his grave* 
 
 So there lay down Gertha, and the blue speedwell 
 kissed her white cheek; there her breath left her, 
 and she lay very still, while the wind passed over 
 her now & then, with hands laid across her breast* 
 Nevertheless this was what Edith, her hand' 
 maiden, said to Barulf the King, and his Lords 
 and Knights: 'And so I sat on the war/saddle and 
 watched,and as my Lady stepped forward to enter 
 that circle of trees, I saw my Lord Olaf,the King, 
 as clearly as before he died, step forward to meet 
 her, and he caught her in his arms, and kissed her 
 on the mouth and on both cheeks* 
 'And they two were together there for hours, talkx 
 ing it seemed, sometimes sitting on the flowers 
 
 111 
 
Gertha's and grass (for that spot, my lords, is not trodden 
 Lovers as the rest of the field is) ; sometimes walking from 
 tree to tree with fingers interlaced* 
 'But just about sunset time,! feltas if I mustneeds 
 go and speak to my dear Lady once again, & hold 
 her hand again: so I went up trembling; and lo ! 
 my Lord Olaf was not there any more, and I saw 
 my Lady Gertha only, lying dead upon the flowx 
 ers, with her hands crossed over her breast, and a 
 soft wind that came from the place where the sun 
 had set shook the aspen leaves* So I came away/ 
 Thereat the King & his Knights wondered* And 
 the People raised a mighty Church above the 
 place where they lay, in memory of Olaf's deeds 
 and Gertha's love: and soon about the Church 
 there gathered a fair City, that was very famous 
 in the after/time* Yet it was strange that this 
 Church,though the people wrought at it with such 
 zeal and love, was never finished: something told 
 them to stop by then they had reached the tranx 
 septs of it: and to this day the mighty fragment, 
 still unfinished, towering so high above the city 
 roofs toward the sky, seems like a mountain cliff 
 that went axwandering once, and by earnest longx 
 ing of the lowlanders was stayed among the pop' 
 lar trees for ever* 
 
 112 
 
SVEND AND HIS BRETHREN. 
 
 A KING in the olden time ruled over a mighty 
 nation :aproudmanhe must have been, any man 
 who was king of that nation : hundreds of lords, 
 each a prince over many people, sat about him in 
 the council chamber, under the dim vault, that 
 was blue like the vault of heaven, and shone with 
 innumerable glistenings of golden stars. 
 North, south, east, and west, spread that land of 
 his, the sea did not stop it; his empire clomb the 
 high mountains, and spread abroad its arms over 
 the valleys of them; all along the sea-line shone 
 cities set with their crowns of towers in the midst 
 of broad bays, each fit, it seemed, to be a harbour 
 for the navies of all the world* 
 Inland the pastures and cornlands lay, chequered 
 much with climbing, over- tumbling grape-vines, 
 under the sun that crumbled their clods, & drew 
 up the young wheat in the spring time, under the 
 rain that made the long grass soft and fine, under 
 all fair fertilizing influences: the streams leapt 
 down from the mountain tops, or cleft their way 
 through the ridged ravines; they grew great rivx 
 ers, like seas each one. 
 
 The mountains were cloven, and gave forth from 
 their scarred sides wealth of ore and splendour of 
 marble; all things this people that King Valde- 
 mar ruled over could do ; they levelled mountains, 
 that over the smooth roads the wains might go, 
 laden with silk and spices from the sea: they 
 
 q s 
 
Svcnd and drained lakes, that the land might yield more and 
 his Brethren more, as year by year the serfs, driven like cattle, 
 but worse fed, worse housed, died slowly, scarce 
 knowing that they had souls ; they builded them 
 huge ships, and said that they were masters of the 
 sea too; only, I trow the sea was an unruly subx 
 ject, and often sent them back their ships cut into 
 more pieces than the pines of them were, when 
 the adze first fell upon them; they raised towers, 
 and bridges, & marble palaces with endless corri' 
 dors rose/scented, and cooled with welling foun/ 
 tains. 
 
 They sent great armies and fleets to all the points 
 of heaven that the wind blows from, who took 
 & burned many happy cities, wasted many fields 
 and valleys, blotted out from the memory of men 
 the names of nations, made their men's lives a 
 hopeless shame and misery to them, their wox 
 men's lives disgrace, and then came home to have 
 flowers thrown on them in showers, to be feasted 
 and called heroes* 
 
 Should not then their king be proud of them ? 
 Moreover they could fashion stone and brass into 
 the shapes of men ; they could write books ; they 
 knew the names of the stars, and their number; 
 they knew what moved the passions of men in 
 the hearts of them, and could draw you up cunx 
 ningly catalogues of virtues and vices; their wise 
 men could prove to you that any lie was true, that 
 any truth was false, till your head grew dizzy 
 
 114 
 
and your heart sick, and you almost doubted if Svend and 
 
 there were a God* his Brethren 
 
 Should not then their king be proud of them? 
 
 Their men were strong in body, & moved about 
 
 gracefully, like dancers; and the purplexblack, 
 
 scented hair of their goldxclothed knights seemx 
 
 ed to shoot out rays under the blaze of light that 
 
 shone like many suns in the king's halls* Their 
 
 women's faces were very fair in red and white, 
 
 their skins fair & halfxtransparent like the marx 
 
 ble of their mountains, and their voices sounded 
 
 like the rising of soft music from step to step of 
 
 their own white palaces* 
 
 Should not then their king be proud of such a 
 
 people, who seemed to help so in carrying on the 
 
 world to its consummate perfection, which they 
 
 even hoped their grandchildren would see? 
 
 Alas! alas! they were slaves: king and priest, 
 
 noble and burgher, just as much as the meanest 
 
 tasked serf, perhaps more even than he, for they 
 
 were so willingly, but he unwillingly enough* 
 
 They could do everything but justice, and truth, 
 
 and mercy; therefore God's judgments hungover 
 
 their heads, not fallen yet, but surely to fall one 
 
 time or other* For ages past they had warred 
 
 against one people only, whom they could not 
 
 utterly subdue; a feeble people in numbers, 
 
 dwelling in the very midst of them, among the 
 
 mountains; yet now they were pressing them 
 
 close ; acre after acre, with seas of blood to pur/ 
 
Svend and chase each acre, had been wrested from the free 
 his Brethren people, and their end seemed drawing near; and 
 this time the king, Valdemar, had marched to 
 their land with a great army, to make war on 
 them, he boasted to himself, almost for the last 
 time, 
 
 A walled town in the free land; in that town, a 
 house built of rough, splintery stones; and in a 
 great low/browed room of that house, a grey/ 
 haired man pacing to and fro impatiently: * Will 
 she never come?' he says; 'it is two hours since 
 the sun set; news, too, of the enemy's being in 
 the land; how dreadful if she is taken!' His great 
 broad face is marked with many furrows made 
 by the fierce restless energy of the man ; but there 
 is a wearied look on it, the look of a man who, 
 having done his best, is yet beaten ; he seemed to 
 long to be gone and be at peace: he, the fighter 
 in many battles, who often had seemed with his 
 single arm to roll back the whole tide of fight, felt 
 despairing enough now; this last invasion, he 
 thought, must surely quite settle the matter ; wave 
 after wave, wave after wave, had broken on that 
 dear land and been rolled back from it, and still 
 the hungry sea pressed on ; they must be finally 
 drowned in that sea; how fearfully they had been 
 tried for their sins ! Back again to his anxiety con/ 
 cerning Cissela, his daughter, go his thoughts, 
 and he still paces up and down wearily, stopping 
 116 
 
now and then to gaze intently on things which Svend and 
 he has seen a hundred times; and the night has his Brethren 
 altogether come on. 
 
 At last the blast of a horn from outside, challenge 
 and counter^challenge, & the wicket to the court< 
 yard is swung open; for this house, being in a 
 part of the city where the walls are somewhat 
 weak, is a little fortress in itself, and is very carex 
 fully guarded* The old man's face brightened at 
 the sound of the newcomers, and he went toward 
 the entrance of the house, where he was met by 
 two young knights fully armed, and a maiden. 
 4 Thank God you are come/ he says; but stops 
 when he sees her face, which is quite pale, almost 
 wild with some sorrow* 'The saints! Cissela, 
 what is it?' he says* * Father, Eric will tell you/ 
 Then suddenly a clang, for Eric has thrown on 
 the ground a richly 'jewelled sword, sheathed, & 
 sets his foot on it, crunching the pearls on the 
 sheath; then says, flinging up his head: 'There, 
 father, the enemy is in the land; may that hapx 
 pen to every one of them ! but for my part I have 
 accounted for two already/ 'Son Eric, son Eric, 
 you talk for ever about yourself; quick, tell me 
 about Cissela instead: if you go on boasting and 
 talking always about yourself, you will come to 
 no good end, son, after all/ But as he says this, he 
 smiles nevertheless, and his eye glistens* 
 'Well, father, listen; such a strange thing she 
 tells us, not to be believed if she did not tell us 
 
 117 
 
Svend and herself; the enemy has suddenly got generous, 
 his Brethren one of them at least, which is something of a disx 
 appointment to me *** ah! pardon, about myself 
 again ; and that is about myself too* Well, father, 
 what am I to do?*** But Cissela, she wandered 
 some way from her maidens, when*** ah! but I 
 never could tell a story properly, let her tell it 
 herself; here Cissela!*** well, well, I see she is 
 better employed, talking namely, how should I 
 know what, with Siur in the window/seat yonx 
 der ! But she told us that, as she wandered almost 
 by herself, she presently heard shouts and saw 
 many of the enemy's knights riding quickly tox 
 wards her; whereat she knelt only and prayed to 
 God, who was very gracious to her; for when, as 
 she thought, something dreadful was about to 
 happen, the chief of the knights (a very noblex 
 looking man, she said) rescued her, and, after he 
 had gazed earnestly into her face, told her she 
 might go back again to her own home, and her 
 maids with her, if only she would tell him where 
 she dwelt and her name ; and withal he sent three 
 knights to escort her some way toward the city; 
 then he turned and rode away with all his knights 
 but those three, who, when they knew that he had 
 quite gone, she says, began to talk horribly, sayx 
 ing things whereof in her terror she understood 
 the import only: then, before worse came to pass 
 came I and slew two, as I said, and the other ran 
 away ' lustily with a good courage;' and that is 
 118 
 
the sword of one of the slain knights, or as one Svend and 
 might rather call them, rascally caitiffs/ his Brethren 
 
 The old man's thoughts seemed to have gone 
 wandering after his son had finished; for he said 
 nothing for some time, but at last spoke dejectx 
 edly : ' Eric, brave son, when I was your age I too 
 hoped, and my hopes are come to this at last; you 
 are blind in your hopeful youth, Eric, and do not 
 see that this king (for the king it certainly was) 
 will crush us, and not the less surely because he is 
 plainly not ungenerous, but rather a good, courts 
 ecus knight Alas ! poor old Gunnar,broken down 
 now and ready to die, as your country is! How 
 often, in the olden time, thou usedst to say to 
 thyself, as thou didst ride at the head of our glori' 
 ous house: This charge may finish this matter, 
 this battle must! They passed away, those gal' 
 lant fights, and still the foe pressed on, and hope, 
 too, slowly ebbed away, as the boundaries of our 
 land grew less & less : behold this is the last wave 
 but one or two, and then for a sad farewell to name 
 and freedom* Yet, surely the end of the world 
 must come when we are swept from off the face 
 of the earth* God waits long, they say, before He 
 avenges His own/ 
 
 As he was speaking, Siur and Cissela came nearer 
 to him, and Cissela, all traces of her late terror 
 gone from her face now, raising her lips to his 
 bended forehead, kissed him fondly, and said, 
 with glowing face: ' Father, how can I help our 
 
 119 
 
Svend and people? Do they want deaths? I will die* Do they 
 his Brethren want happiness? I will live miserably through 
 years and years, nor ever pray for death/ 
 Some hope or other seemed growing up in his 
 heart, & showing through his face ; and he spoke 
 again, putting back the hair from offher face, and 
 clasping it about with both his hands, while he 
 stooped to kiss her. 
 
 'God remember your mother, Cissela! Then it 
 was no dream after all, but true perhaps, as indeed 
 it seemed at the time ; but it must come quickly, 
 that woman's deliverance, or not at all* When 
 was it that I heard that old tale, that sounded even 
 then true to my ears ? for we have not been punx 
 ished for nought, my son; that is not God's way* 
 It comes across my memory somehow, mingled 
 in a wonderful manner with the purple of the 
 pines on the hill/side, with the fragrance of them 
 borne from far towards me; for know, my childx 
 ren, that in times past, long, long past now, we 
 did an evil deed; for our forefathers, who have 
 been dead now and forgiven so long ago, once 
 mad with rage at some defeat from their enemies, 
 fired a church, and burned therein many women 
 who had fled thither for refuge; and from that 
 time a curse cleaves to us* Only they say that at 
 the last we may be saved from utter destruction 
 by a woman; I know not* God grant it may be 
 so/ 
 Then she said, ' Father, brother, and you, Siur, 
 
 120 
 
come with me to the chapel; I wish you to witness Svend and 
 me make an oath/ his Brethren 
 
 Her face was pale, her lips were pale, her golden 
 hair was pale; but not pale, it seemed, from any 
 sinking of blood, but from gathering of intensest 
 light from somewhere, her eyes perhaps, for they 
 appeared to burn inwardly* 
 They followed the sweeping of her purple robe 
 in silence through the low heavy/beamed pasx 
 sages : they entered the little chapel, dimly light' 
 ed by the moon that night, as it shone through 
 one of the three arrow/slits of windows at the east 
 end* There was little wealth of marble there, I 
 trow; littletimehad those fighting men for stone^ 
 smoothing* Albeit, one noted many semblances 
 of flowers even in the dim half-light, and here 
 and there the faces of BRAVE men, roughly cut 
 enough, but grand, because the hand of the carver 
 had followed his loving heart* Neither was there 
 gold wanting to the altar and its canopy; and ax 
 bove the low pillars of the nave hung banners, 
 taken from the foe by the men of that house, galx 
 lant with gold and jewels* 
 
 She walked up to the altar and took the blessed 
 book of the Gospels from the left side of it; then 
 knelt in prayer for a moment or two, while the 
 three men stood behind her reverently* Wlien 
 she rose she made a sign to them, and from their 
 scabbards gleamed three swords in the moonx 
 light ; then, while they held them aloft, & pointed 
 r 121 
 
Svcnd and toward the altar, she opened the book at the page 
 his Brethren whereon was painted Christ the Lord dying on 
 the cross, pale against the gleaming gold: she 
 said, in a firm voice/ Christ God, who diedst for 
 all men, so help me, as I refuse not life, happiness, 
 even honour, for this people whom I love/ 
 Then she kissed the face so pale against the gold, 
 and kneltagain* But when she had risen, and be/ 
 fore she could leave the space by the altar, Siur 
 had stepped up to her, and seized her hurriedly, 
 folding both his arms about her; she let herself 
 be held there, her bosom against his ;thenheheld 
 her away from him a little space, holding her by 
 the arms near the shoulder; then he took her 
 hands and led them across his shoulders, so that 
 now she held him* And they said nothing; what 
 could they say? Do you know any word for what 
 they meant? 
 
 And the father & brother stood by, looking quite 
 awexstruck, more so they seemed than by her 
 solemn oath* Till Siur, raising his head from 
 where it lay, cried out aloud : ' May God forgive 
 me as I am true to her! hear you, father and brox 
 ther?'Then said Cissela: ' May God help me in 
 my need, as I am true to Siur/ And the others 
 went, and they two were left standing there alone, 
 with no little awe over them, strange & shy as they 
 had never yet been to each other* Cissela shudder^ 
 ed, and said in a quick whisper: 'Siur, on your 
 knees! & pray that these oaths may never clash/ 
 
 122 
 
'Can they, Cissela?' he said. Syend and 
 
 'O love/ she cried, 'you have loosed my hand; ^ s Brethren 
 
 take it again, or I shall die, SiurP 
 
 He took both her hands, he held them fast to his 
 
 lips, to his forehead ; he said : ' No, God does not 
 
 allow such things: truth does not lie; you are 
 
 truth; this need not be prayed for/ 
 
 She said: 'Oh, forgive me! yet**yetthis old chapel 
 
 is damp & cold even in the burning summer weax 
 
 ther* O knight Siur, something strikes through 
 
 me ; I pray you kneel and pray/ 
 
 He looked steadily at her for a long time without 
 
 answering, as if he were trying once for all to bex 
 
 come indeed one with her; then said: 'Yes, it is 
 
 possible; in no other way could you give up every x 
 
 thing/ Then he took from off his finger a thin 
 
 golden ring, and broke it in two, and gave her the 
 
 one half, saying: 'When will they come together?' 
 
 Then within a while they left the chapel, and 
 
 walked as in a dream between the dazzling lights 
 
 of the hall, where the knights sat now, and bex 
 
 tween those lights sat down together, dreaming 
 
 still the same dream each of them; while all the 
 
 knights shouted for Siur and Cissela* Even if a 
 
 man had spent all his life looking for sorrowful 
 
 things, even if he sought for them with all his 
 
 heart and soul, and even though he had grown 
 
 grey in that quest, yet would he have found nox 
 
 thing in all the world, or perhaps in all the stars 
 
 either, so sorrowful as Cissela, 
 
Svcnd and They had accepted her sacrifice after long delibx 
 his Brethren eration, they had arrayed her in purple and scarx 
 let, they had crowned her with gold wrought ax 
 bout with jewels, they had spread abroad the veil 
 of her golden hair; yet now, as they led her forth 
 in the midst of the band of knights, her brother 
 Eric holding fast her hand, each man felt like a 
 murderer when he beheld her face, whereon was 
 notear, wherein wasnowrithingofmuscle,twitchx 
 ing of nerve, wherein was no sorrow/mark of her 
 own, but only the sorrowxmark which God sent 
 her, and which she must perforce wear* 
 Yet they had not caught eagerly at her offer, they 
 had said at first almost to a man: ' Nay, this thing 
 shall not be, let us die altogether ratherthan this/ 
 Yet as they sat and said this, to each man of the 
 council came floating dim memories of that curse 
 of the burned women, and its remedy; to many 
 it ran rhythmically, an old song better known by 
 the music than the words, heard once and again, 
 long ago, when the gusty wind overmastered the 
 chestnutxboughs,and strewed the smooth sward 
 with their starxleaves* 
 
 Withal came thoughts to each man, partly selx 
 fish, partly wise and just, concerning his own wife 
 and children, concerning children yet unborn; 
 thoughts too of the glory of the old name; all that 
 had been suffered and done that the glorious free 
 land might yet be a nation* And the spirit of hop e, 
 never dead but sleeping only, woke up within 
 124 
 
their hearts: ' We may yet be a people/ they said Svend and 
 to themselves/ if we can but get breathing time/ his Brethren 
 And as they thought these things and doubted, 
 Siur rose up in the midst of them and said : ' You 
 are right in what you think, countrymen, and she 
 is right; she is altogether good and noble; send 
 her forth/ Then, with one look of utter despair 
 at her as she stood statuexlike,he left the council, 
 lest he should fall down and die in the midst of 
 them, he said; yet he died not then, but lived for 
 many years afterwards. 
 
 But they rose from their seats, and when they 
 were armed, and she royally arrayed, they went 
 with her, leading her through the dear streets, 
 whence you always sawthe great pinexshadowed 
 mountains; she went away from all that was dear 
 to her, to go & sit a crowned queen in the dreary 
 marble palace, whose outer walls rose right up 
 from thewearyxhearted sea* She could not think, 
 she durst not; she feared, if she did, that she 
 would curse her beauty, almost curse the name 
 of love, curse Siur, though she knew he was right, 
 for not slaying her; she feared that she might 
 curse God* 
 
 So she thought not at all, steeping her senses utx 
 terly in forgetfulness of the happy past, destroy 
 ing all anticipation of the future: yet, as they left 
 the city amid the tears of women, and fixed sorx 
 rowful gaze of men, she turned round once, and 
 stretched her arms out involuntarily, like a dumb 
 
 125 
 
Svcnd and senseless thing, towards the place where she was 
 his Brethren born, and where her life grewhappier day by day, 
 and where his arms first crept round about her* 
 She turned away and thought, but in a cold spec/ 
 ulative manner, how it was possible that she was 
 bearing this sorrow ; as she often before had won/ 
 dered, when slight things vexed her overmuch, 
 how people had such sorrows & lived, and almost 
 doubted if the pain was so much greater in great 
 sorrows than in small troubles, or whether the 
 nobleness only was greater, the pain not sharper, 
 but more lingering* 
 
 Halfway toward the camp the king's people met 
 her; and over the trampled ground, where they 
 had fought so fiercely but a little time before, they 
 spread breadth of golden cloth, that her feet might 
 not touch the arms of her dead countrymen, or 
 their brave bodies* And so they came at last with 
 many trumpet'blasts to the king's tent, who stood 
 at the door of it, to welcome his bride that was to 
 be : a noble man truly to look on, kindly and 
 genial/eyed; the red blood sprangupover his face 
 when she came near ;& she looked back no more, 
 but bowed before him almost to the ground, and 
 would have knelt, but that he caught her in his 
 arms and kissed her; she was pale no more now; 
 and the king, as he gazed delightedly at her, did 
 not notice that sorrow/mark, which was plain 
 enough to her own people* 
 
 So the trumpets sounded again one long peal that 
 126 
 
seemed to make all the air reel and quiver, and Svend and 
 the soldiers and lords shouted: * Hurrah for the his Brethren 
 PeacexQueen, Cissela!' 
 
 'Come, Harald/ said a beautiful golden^haired 
 boy to one who was plainly his younger brother, 
 ' Come, and let us leave Robert here by the forge, 
 and show our ladymother this beautiful thing. 
 Sweet master armourer, farewell/ ' Are you go/- 
 ing to the queen then ?' said the armourer/ Yea/ 
 said the boy, looking wonderingly at the strong 
 craftsman's eager face* 'But, nay; let me look at 
 you awhile longer, you remind me so much of 
 one I loved long ago in my own land* Stay awhile 
 till your other brother goes with you/ 'Well, I 
 will stay, and think of what you have been tellx 
 ing me; I do not feel as if I should ever think 
 of anything else for long together, as long as I 
 live/ 
 
 So he sat down again on an old battered anvil, 
 and seemed with his bright eyes to be beholding 
 something in thelandof dreams* A gallantdream 
 it was he dreamed; for he saw himself with his 
 brothers & friends about him, seated on a throne, 
 thejustestkinginalltheearth,hispeoplethelovx 
 ingest of all people: he saw the ambassadors of 
 the restored nations, that had been unjustly dealt 
 with long ago ; everywhere love, and peace if posx 
 sible, justice and truth at all events* 
 Alas! he knew not that vengeance, so long de/ 
 
 127 
 
Svend and layed, must fallal last in his life/time; heknew not 
 
 his Brethren that it takes longer to restore that whose growth 
 
 has been through age and age, than the few years 
 
 of a lifetime; yet was the reality good, if not as 
 
 good as the dream. 
 
 Presently his twinxbrother Robert woke him 
 from that dream, calling out: 'Now, brother 
 Svend, are we really ready; see here! but stop, 
 kneel first; there, now am I the Bishop/ And he 
 pulled his brother down on to his knees, and put 
 on his head, where it fitted loosely enough now, 
 hanging down from left to right, an iron crown 
 fantastically wrought, which he himself, having 
 just finished it, had taken out of the water, cool 
 and dripping* 
 
 Robert and Harald laughed loud when they saw 
 the crown hanging all askew, and the great drops 
 rolling from it into Svend' s eyes and down his 
 cheeks, looking like tears* Not so Svend ; he rose, 
 holding the crown level on his head, holding it 
 back, so that it pressed against his brow hard, and, 
 first dashing the drops to right and left, caught 
 his brother by the hand, and said: ' May I keep it, 
 Robert? I shall wear it some day/ ' Yea/ said the 
 other; 'but it is a poor thing; better let Siur put 
 it in the furnace again and make it into sword 
 hilts/ 
 
 Thereupon they began to go, Svend holding the 
 crown in his hand: but as they were going, Siur 
 called out: 'Yet will I sell my dagger at a price, 
 128 
 
Prince Svend, even as you wished at first, rather Svend and 
 than give it you for nothing/ his Brethren 
 
 ' Well, for what?' said Svend, somewhat shortx 
 ly, for he thought Siur was going back from his 
 promise, which seemed ugly to him. 
 4 Nay, be not angry, prince/ said the armourer; 
 'only I pray you to satisfy this whim of mine; it 
 is the first favour I have asked of you : will you 
 ask the fair noble lady, your mother, from Siur 
 the smith, if she is happy now?' 
 '^X^illingly, sweet master Siur, if it pleases you; 
 farewell/ 
 
 And with happy young faces they went away; 
 and when they were gone, Siur from a secret place 
 drew out various weapons and armour, and bex 
 gan to work at them, having first drawn bolt and 
 bar of his workshop carefully* 
 Svend, with Haraldand Robert his two brethren, 
 went their ways to the queen, & found her sitting 
 alone in a fair court of the palace full of flowers, 
 with a marble cloister round about it; and when 
 she saw them coming, she rose up to meet them, 
 her three fair sons* Truly as that right royal wo^ 
 man bent over them lovingly, there seemed little 
 need of Siur' s question. 
 
 So Svend showed her his dagger, but not the 
 crown; and she asked many questions concern^ 
 ing Siur the smith, about his way of talking and 
 his face, the colour of his hair even, till the boys 
 wondered, she questioned them so closely, with 
 s 129 
 
Svcnd and beaming eyes and glowing cheeks, so that Svend 
 his Brethren thought he had never before seen his mother look 
 so beautiful* 
 
 Then Svend said: 4 And, mother, don't be angry 
 with Siur, will you, because he sent a message to 
 you by me?' 
 
 4 Angry!' and straightway her soul was wander/- 
 ing where her body could not come, and for a 
 momentortwoshewas livingas before, with him 
 close by her, in the old mountain land* 
 'Well, mother, he wanted me to ask you if you 
 were happy now/ 
 
 4 Did he, Svend, this man with brown hair, griz' 
 zled as you say it is now? Is his hair soft then, this 
 Siur, going down on to his shoulders in waves ? 
 and his eyes, do they glow steadily, as if lighted 
 up from his heart? and how does he speak? Did 
 you not tell me that his words led you, whether 
 you would or no, into dreamland ? Ah well ! tell 
 him I am happy, but not so happy as we shall be, 
 as we were* And so you, son Robert, are getting 
 to be quite a cunning smith ; but do you think you 
 will ever beat Siur ? ' 
 
 'Ah, mother, no/ he said; 'there is something 
 with him that makes him seem quite infinitely 
 beyond all other workmen I have ever heard of/ 
 Some memory coming from that dreamland 
 smote upon her heart more than the others; she 
 blushed like a young girl, and said hesitatingly: 
 'Does he work with his left hand, son Robert? For 
 
 130 
 
I have heard that some men do so/ But in her Svend and 
 
 heart she remembered how once, long ago in the his Brethren 
 
 old mountain country, in her father's house, some 
 
 one had said that only men who were born so 
 
 could do cunningly with the left hand; and how 
 
 Siur, then quite a boy, had said, 'Well, I will 
 
 try:' and how, in a month or two, he had come 
 
 to her with an armlet of silver, very curiously 
 
 wrought, which he had done with his own left 
 
 hand* 
 
 So Robert said: * Yea, mother, he works with his 
 
 left hand almost as much as with his right, and 
 
 sometimes I have seen him change the hammer 
 
 suddenly from his right hand to his left, with a 
 
 kind of half smile, as one who would say: Canx 
 
 not I then? and this more when he does smith's 
 
 work in metal than when he works in marble; 
 
 and once I heard him say when he did so : I wonx 
 
 der where my first left handwork is; ah! I bide 
 
 my time* I wonder also, mother, what he meant 
 
 by that/ She answered no word, but shook her 
 
 arm free from its broad sleeve, and something 
 
 glittered on it, near her wrist, something wrought 
 
 out of silver set with quaint and uncouthly^cut 
 
 stones of little value* 
 
 In the councilxchamber, among the lords, sat 
 Svend and his six brethren ; he chief of all in the 
 wielding of sword or axe, in the government of 
 people, in drawing the love of men and women 
 
Svcnd and to him ; perfect in face and body, in wisdom and 
 his Brethren strength was Svend : next to him sat Robert, 
 cunning in working of marble, or wood, or brass; 
 all things could he make to look as if they lived, 
 from the sweep of an angel's wings down to the 
 slipping of a little field-mouse from under the 
 sheaves in the harvest'time.Then there was Har/ 
 aid, who knew concerning all the stars of heaven 
 and flowers of earth: Richard, who drew men's 
 hearts from their bodies, with the words that 
 swung to & fro in his glorious rhymes : William, 
 to whom the air of heaven seemed a servant 
 when the harp-strings quivered underneath his 
 fingers: there were the two sailor-brothers, who 
 the year before, young though they were, had 
 come back from a long, perilous voyage, with 
 news of an island they had found long and long 
 away to the west, larger than any that this people 
 knew of, but very fair and good, though unin- 
 habited* 
 
 But now over all this noble brotherhood with its 
 various gifts, hung one cloud of sorrow; their 
 mother, the Peace-Queen Cissela was dead, she 
 who had taught them truth & nobleness so well; 
 she was never to see the beginning of the end that 
 they would work; truly it seemed sad* 
 There sat the seven brothers in the council cham' 
 ber, waiting for the king, speaking no word, only 
 thinking drearily; and under the pavement of the 
 great church Cissela lay, and by the side of her 
 
tomb stood two men, old men both, Valdemar Svend and 
 
 the king and Siur* his Brethren 
 
 So the king, after that he had gazed awhile on 
 
 the carven face of her he had loved well, said at 
 
 last: ' And now, Sir Carver, must you carve me 
 
 also to lie there/ And he pointed to the vacant 
 
 space by the side of the fair alabaster figure* 
 
 *O king/ said Siur, 'except for a very few strokes 
 
 on steel, I have done work now, having carved 
 
 the queen there; I cannot do this thing for you/ 
 
 What was it sent a sharp pang of bitterest susx 
 
 picion through the very heart of the poor old 
 
 man? he looked steadfastly at him for a moment 
 
 or two, as if he would know all secrets; he could 
 
 not, he had not strength of life enough to get to 
 
 the bottom of things; doubt vanished soon from 
 
 his heart and his face under Siur's pitying gaze; 
 
 he said : ' Then perhaps I shall be my own statue/ 
 
 and therewithal he sat down on the edge of the 
 
 low marble tomb, and laid his right arm across 
 
 her breast; he fixed his eyes on the eastern belt 
 
 of windows, and sat quite motionless and silent; 
 
 and he never knew that she loved him not. 
 
 But Siur, when he had gazed at him for awhile, 
 
 stole away quietly, as we do when we fear to 
 
 awaken a sleeper; and the king never turned his 
 
 head, but still sat there, never moving, scarce 
 
 breathing, it seemed* 
 
 Siur stood in his own great hall (for his house was 
 
 large); he stood before the dais, and saw a fair 
 
Svend and sight, the work of his own hands* For, fronting 
 his Brethren him, against the wall were seven thrones, and 
 behind them a cloth of samite of purple wrought 
 with golden stars, and barred across from right 
 to left with long bars of silver and crimson, and 
 edged below with melancholy, fading green, like 
 a September sunset; and opposite each throne 
 was a glittering suit of armour wrought wonder/ 
 fully in bright steel, except that on the breast of 
 each suit was a face worked marvellously in enx 
 amel, the face of Cissela in a glory of golden hair; 
 and the glory of that gold spread away from the 
 breast on all sides, and ran cunningly along with 
 the steel rings, in such a way as it is hard even to 
 imagine : moreover, on the crest of each helm 
 v/as wrought the phoenix, the never-dying bird, 
 the only creature that knows the sun; & by each 
 suit lay a gleaming sword terrible to look at, steel 
 from pommel to point, but wrought along the 
 blade in burnished gold that outflashed the gleam 
 of the steel, was written in fantastic letters the 
 word WESTWARD. 
 
 So Siur gazed till he heard footsteps coming; 
 then he turned to meet them* And Svend and his 
 brethren sat silent in the council chamber, till 
 they heard a great noise and clamour of the peo/ 
 pie arise through all the streets; and then they 
 rose to see what it might be. Meanwhile on the 
 low marble tomb, under the dim sweeping vault 
 sat, or rather lay, the king; for, though his right 
 
 134 
 
arm still lay over her breast, his head had fallen Svend and 
 
 forward, and rested now on the shoulder of the his Brethren 
 
 marble queen* There he lay, with strange conx 
 
 fusion of his scarlet, gold^wrought robes; silent, 
 
 motionless, and dead. 
 
 The seven brethren stood together on a marble 
 
 terrace of the royal palace, that was dotted about 
 
 onthebaluster of itwith white statues: they were 
 
 helmeted, and armed to the teeth, only over their 
 
 armour great black cloaks were thrown. 
 
 Now the whole great terrace was axsway with 
 
 the crowd of nobles and princes, and others that 
 
 were neither nobles or princes, but true men only; 
 
 and these were helmeted and wrapped in black 
 
 cloaks even as the princes were, only the crests of 
 
 the princes' helms were wrought wonderfully 
 
 with that bird, the phoenix, all flaming with new 
 
 power, dying because its old body is not strong 
 
 enough for its newxfound power : & those on that 
 
 terrace who were unarmed had anxious faces, 
 
 some fearful, some stormy with devil's rage at 
 
 disappointment; but among the faces of those 
 
 helmed ones, though here and there you might 
 
 see a pale face, there was no fear or rage, scarcely 
 
 even any anxiety, but calm, brave joy seemed to 
 
 be on all* 
 
 Above the heads of all men on that terrace shone 
 
 out Svend's brave face, the golden hair flowing 
 
 from out of his helmet : a smile of quiet confidence 
 
 overflowing from his mighty heart, in the depths 
 
 135 
 
Svend and of which it was dwelling, just showed a very little 
 his Brethren on his eyes and lips; while all the vast square, 
 and all the windows and roofs even of the houses 
 over against the palace, were alive with an inx 
 numerable sea of troubled raging faces, show 
 ing white, upturned from the undersea of their 
 many/coloured raiment; the murmur from them 
 was like the sough of the first tempest/ wind ax 
 mong the pines ; and the gleam of spears here and 
 there like the last few gleams of the sun through 
 the woods when the black thunder/clouds come up 
 over all, soon to be shone through, those woods, 
 by the gleam of the deep lightning* Also some^ 
 times the murmur would swell, and from the 
 heart of it would come a fierce, hoarse, tearing, 
 shattering roar, strangely discordant, of 4 War! 
 War! give us war, O king!' 
 Then Svend, stepping forward, his arms hidden 
 under his long cloak as they hung down quietly, 
 the smile on his face broadening somewhat, sent 
 from his chest a mighty, effortless voice over all 
 the raging : 'Hear, O ye people! War with all that 
 is ugly and base; peace with all that is fair and 
 good* NO WAR with my brother's people/ Just 
 then one of those unhelmeted, creeping round 
 about stealthily to the place where Svend stood, 
 lifted his arm and smote at him with a dagger; 
 whereupon Svend, clearing his right arm from his 
 cloak with his left, lifted up his glittering right 
 hand, and the traitor fell to the earth groaning 
 136 
 
with a broken jaw, for Svend had smitten him Svend and 
 
 on the mouth a backward blow with his open his Brethren 
 
 hand, 
 
 One shouted from the crowd: 'Ay, murderer 
 
 Svend, slay our good nobles, as you poisoned the 
 
 king your father, that you and your false brethren 
 
 might oppress us with the memory of that devil's 
 
 witch, your mother!' 
 
 The smile left Svend's face and heart now, he 
 
 looked very stern as he said: 'Hear, O ye people! 
 
 In years past when I was a boy, my dream of 
 
 dreams was ever this, how I should make you 
 
 good, and because good, happy, when I should 
 
 become king over you; but as year by year passed 
 
 I saw my dream flitting; the deep colours of it 
 
 changed, faded, grew grey in the light of coming 
 
 manhood; nevertheless, God be my witness that 
 
 I have ever striven to make you just and true, 
 
 hoping against hope continually; and I had even 
 
 determined to bear everything and stay with you, 
 
 even though you should remain unjust and liars, 
 
 for the sake of the few who really love me; but 
 
 now, seeing that God has made you mad, and 
 
 that His vengeance will speedily fall, take heed 
 
 how you cast out from you all that is good and 
 
 true-hearted! Once more . which choose you, 
 
 Peace or War?' 
 
 Between the good and the base, in the midst of 
 
 the passionate faces and changing colours stood 
 
 the great terrace, cold, and calm, and white, with 
 
 t 37 
 
Svend and its changeless statues ; and for a while there was 
 his Brethren silence* Broken through at last by a yell, and the 
 sharp whirr of arrows, and the cling, clang, from 
 the armour of the terrace as Prince Harald stag/ 
 gered though unhurt, struck by the broad point 
 on the helmet* 
 
 4 What! War?' shouted Svend wrathfully, and 
 his voice sounded like a clap of thunder follow/ 
 ing the lightning flash when a tower is struck* 
 4 "What ! war ? swords for Svend ! round about the 
 king, good men and true! Sons of the golden/ 
 haired, show these men WA R ! ' As he spoke he 
 let his black cloak fall, and up from their sheaths 
 sprang seven swords, steel from pommel to point 
 only; on the blades of them in fantastic letters 
 of gold shone the word WESTWARD* Then 
 all the terrace gleamed with steel, and amid the 
 hurtling of stones and whizz of arrows they be/ 
 gan to go westward. 
 
 The streets ran with blood, the air was filled with 
 groans & curses, the low waves nearest the gran/ 
 ite pier were edged with blood, because they first 
 caught the drippings of the blood* 
 Then those of the people who durst stay on the 
 pier saw the ships of Svend' s little fleet leaving 
 one by one; for he had taken aboard those ten 
 ships whosoever had prayed to go, even at the 
 last moment, wounded, or dying even; better so, 
 for in their last moments came thoughts of good 
 
 138 
 
things to many of them, and it was good to be Svend and 
 
 among the true* his Brethren 
 
 But those haughty ones left behind, sullen and 
 
 untamed, but with a horrible indefinable dread 
 
 on them that was worse than death, or mere pain, 
 
 howsoever fierce*** these saw all the ships go out 
 
 of the harbour merrily with swelling sail &daslv 
 
 ing oar, and with joyous singing of those aboard; 
 
 and Svend's was the last of all* Whom they 
 
 saw kneel down on the deck unhelmed, then all 
 
 sheathed their swords that were about him ; and 
 
 the Prince Robert took from Svend' s hand an 
 
 iron crown fantastically wrought, and placed it 
 
 on his head as he knelt; then he continued kneelx 
 
 ing still, till, as the ship drew further and further 
 
 away from the harbour, all things aboard of her 
 
 became indistinct* And they never saw Svend 
 
 and his brethren again* 
 
 Here endswhat William the Englishman wrote; 
 but afterwards (in the nightxtime) he found the 
 book of a certain chronicler which saith: 'In the 
 springxtime, in May, the 55oth year from the 
 death of Svend the wonderful king, the good 
 knights, sailing due eastward, came to a harbour 
 of a land they knew not : wherein they saw many 
 goodly ships, but of a strange fashion like the 
 ships of the ancients,& destitute of any mariners: 
 besides they saw no beacons for the guidance of 
 seamen,norwas thereany sound of bells or singx 
 
 139 
 
Svcnd and ing, though the city was vast, with many goodly 
 his Brethren towers and palaces* So when they landed they 
 found that which is hardly to be believed, but 
 which is nevertheless true: for about the quays 
 and about the streets lay many people dead, or 
 stood, but quite without motion, and they were 
 all white or about the colour of new^hewn freex 
 stone ; yet were they not statues but real men, for 
 they had, some of them, ghastly wounds which 
 showed their entrails, and the structure of their 
 flesh, and veins, and bones* Moreover the streets 
 were red and wet with blood, and the harbour 
 waves were red with it, because it dripped in great 
 drops slowly from the quays* 
 Then when the good knights saw this, they 
 doubted not but that it was a fearful punishment 
 on this people for sins of theirs ; thereupon they 
 entered into a church of that city and prayed God 
 to pardon them; afterwards, going back to their 
 ships, sailed away marvelling* 
 And I John who wrote this history saw all this 
 with mine own eyes*' 
 
 140 
 
LINDENBORGPOOL. 
 I READ once in lazy humour Thorpe's North/ 
 ern Mythology, on a cold May night when the 
 north wind was blowing; in lazy humour, but 
 when I came to the tale that is here amplified 
 there was something in it that fixed my attention 
 and made me think of it; and whether I would 
 or no, my thoughts ran in this way, as here follows. 
 So I felt obliged to write, and wrote accordingly, 
 and by the time I had done, the grey light filled 
 all my room; so I put out my candles, and went 
 to bed, not without fear and trembling, for the 
 morning twilight is so strange and lonely. This 
 is what I wrote, 
 
 Yes, on that dark night, with that wild unsteady 
 north wind howling, though it was Maytime, it 
 was doubtless dismal enough in the forest, where 
 the boughs clashed eerily, and where, as the wan/ 
 derer in that place hurried along, strange forms 
 half showed themselves to him, the more fearful 
 because half seen in that way: dismal enough 
 doubtless on wide moors where the great wind 
 had it all its own way :dismal on the rivers creep/ 
 ingonand on between the marsh/lands, creeping 
 through the willows, the water trickling through 
 the locks, sounding faintly in the gusts of the 
 wind* Yet surely nowhere so dismal as by the side 
 of that still pool* 
 
 141 
 
Lindenborg I threw myself down on the ground there, utterx 
 Pool ly exhausted with my struggle against the wind, 
 
 and with bearingthe fathoms and fathoms of the 
 heavily xleaded plumb-line that lay beside me* 
 Fierce as the wind was, it could notraisethe lead- 
 en waters of that fearful pool, defended as they 
 were by the steep banks of dripping yellow clay, 
 striped horribly here and there with ghastly unx 
 certain green and blue* They said no man could 
 fathom it; and yet all round the edges of it grew 
 a rank crop of dreary reeds and segs, some round, 
 some flat, but none ever flowering as other things 
 flowered, never dying and being renewed, but alx 
 ways the same stiff array of unbroken reeds and 
 segs, some round, some flat* Hard by me were 
 two trees leafless and ugly, made, it seemed, only 
 for the wind to go through with a wild sough on 
 such nights as these; and for a mile from that 
 place were no other trees* 
 
 True, I could not see, all this at that time, then, 
 in the dark night, but I knew well that it was all 
 there; for much had I studied this pool in the day x 
 time, trying to learn the secret of it; many hours 
 I had spent there, happy with a kind of happix 
 ness, because forgetful of the past* And even now, 
 could I not hear the wind going through those 
 trees, as it never went through any trees before 
 or since? Could I not see gleams of the dismal 
 moor? Could I not hear those reeds just taken by 
 the wind, knocking against each other, the flat 
 142 
 
ones scraping all along the round ones? Could I Lindenborg 
 
 not hear, moreover, the slow trickling of the landx Pool 
 
 springs through the clay banks? 
 
 The cold, chill horror of the place was too much 
 
 for me; I had never been there by night before, 
 
 nobody had for quite a long time, & now to come 
 
 on such a night! If there had been any moon, the 
 
 place would have looked more as it did by day; 
 
 besides, the moon shining on water is always so 
 
 beautiful, on any water even : if it had been starx 
 
 light, one could have looked at the stars & thought 
 
 of the time when those fields were fertile and 
 
 beautiful (for such a time was, I am sure), when 
 
 the cowslips grew among the grass, and when 
 
 there was promise of yellowxwaving corn stained 
 
 with poppies ; that time which the stars had seen, 
 
 but which we had never seen, which even they 
 
 would never see again : past time ! 
 
 Ah ! what was that which touched my shoulder ? 
 
 Yes, I see, only a dead leaf* Yes, to be here on this 
 
 eighth of May too of all nights in the year, the 
 
 night of that awful day when ten years ago I 
 
 slew him, not undeservedly, God knows, yet 
 
 how dreadful it was ! Another leaf! and another ! 
 
 Strange, those trees have been dead this hundred 
 
 years, I should think. How sharp the wind is too, 
 
 just as if I were moving along and meeting it; 
 
 why, I am moving! what then, I am not there 
 
 after all ; where am I then ? There are the trees; no, 
 
 they are freshly^planted oak saplings, the very 
 
 143 
 
Lindenborg ones that those withered last/year's leaves were 
 
 Pool blown on me from* 
 
 I have been dreaming then, and am on my road 
 to the lake : but what a young wood ! I must have 
 lost my way; I never saw all this before* Well, I 
 will walk on stoutly* 
 
 May the Lord help my senses! I am riding! on 
 a mule; a bell tinkles somewhere on him; the 
 wind blows something about with a flapping 
 sound: something? in heaven's name, what? My 
 long black robes! Why, when I left my house I 
 was clad in serviceable broadcloth of the nine/ 
 teenth century* 
 
 I shall go mad, I am mad, I am gone to the devil, 
 I have lost my identity; who knows in what place, 
 in what age of the world I am living now? Yet I 
 will be calm; I have seen all these things before, 
 in pictures surely, or something like them* I am 
 resigned, since it is no worse than that* I am a 
 priest then, in the dim, far/off thirteenth century, 
 riding, about midnight I should say, to carry the 
 blessed sacrament to some dying man* 
 Soon I found that I was not alone; a man was 
 riding close to me on a horse ; he was fantastically 
 dressed, more so than usual for that time, being 
 striped all over in vertical stripes of yellow and 
 green,with quaint birds like exaggerated storks in 
 different attitudes counterchanged on the stripes; 
 allthislsawbythelanternhecarried,inthelightof 
 which his debauched black eyes quite flashed* On 
 144 
 
he went, unsteadily rolling, verydrunk, though it Lindenborg 
 was the thirteenth century ;butbeingplainly used Pool 
 to that, he sat his horse fairly well* I watched him 
 in my proper nineteenthxcentury character, with 
 insatiable curiosity and intense amusement; but 
 as a quiet priest of along'pastage,with contempt 
 and disgust enough, not unmixed with fear and 
 anxiety* He roared out snatches of doggerel verse 
 as he went along, drinking songs, hunting songs, 
 robbing songs, lust/songs,in a voice that sounded 
 far and far above the roaring of the wind, though 
 that was high, and rolled alongthe dark road that 
 his lantern cast spikes of light along ever so far, 
 making the devils grin: and meanwhile I, the 
 priest, glanced from him wrathfully every now 
 and then to That which I carried very reverently 
 in my hand, and my blood curdled with shame 
 and indignation; but being a shrewd priest, I 
 knew well enough that a sermon would be utter/ 
 ly thrown away on a man who was drunk every 
 day in the year, and, more especially, very drunk 
 then* So I held my peace, saying only under my 
 breath: 'Dixit insipiens in corde suo, Non est 
 Deus* Corrupti sunt et abominabiles facti sunt 
 in studiis suis; non est qui faciat bonum, non est 
 usque ad unum: sepulchrum patens est guttur 
 eorum; linguis suis dolose agebant, venenum asx 
 pidumsub labiis eorum* Dominum non invoca/ 
 verunt; illic trepidaverunt timore, ubi non erat 
 timor* Quis dabit ex Sion salutare Israel?' And 
 u 145 
 
Lindenborg so I went on, thinking too at times about the man 
 Pool who was dying and whom I was soon to see : he 
 
 had been a bold bad plundering baron, but was 
 said lately to have altered his way of life, hav 
 ing seen a miracle or some such thing: he had 
 departed to keep a tournament near his castle 
 lately, but had been brought back sore wounded 
 (so this drunken servant, with some difficulty and 
 much unseasonable merriment, had made me 
 understand), and now lay at the point of death, 
 broughtabout by unskilful tending and suchlike. 
 Then I thought of his face; a bad face, very bad, 
 retreating forehead, small twinkling eyes, prox 
 jecting lower jaw; and such a voice, too, he had! 
 like the grunt of a boar mostly* Now don't you 
 think it strange that this face should be the same, 
 actually the same as the face of my enemy, slain 
 that very day ten years ago ? I did not hate him, 
 either that man or the baron, but I wanted to see 
 as little of him as possible, and I hoped that the 
 ceremony would soon be over, and that I should 
 be at liberty again* 
 
 And so with these thoughts and many others, 
 but all thought strangely double, we went along, 
 the varlet being too drunk to take much notice of 
 me, only once, as he was singing some doggerel, 
 like this, I think, making allowances for change 
 of language and so forth: 
 
 146 
 
4 The Duke went to Treves Lindenborg 
 
 On the first of November; Pool 
 
 His wife stay'd at Bonn .** 
 Let me see, I remember; 
 
 ' When the Duke came back 
 To look for his wife, 
 ^Xfe came from Cologne, 
 And took the Duke's life; 
 
 *^J7e hung him mid^high 
 
 Between spire and pavement, 
 
 From their mouths dropped the cabbage 
 
 Of the carles in amazement/ 
 
 'Boo**,hoo! Church rat! Church mouse! Hilloa, 
 Priest! have you brought the pyx, eh?' From 
 some cause or other he seemed to think this an 
 excellent joke, for he almost shrieked with laughx 
 ter as we went along; but by this time we had 
 reached the castle* Challenge, and counterxchal' 
 lenge, and we passed the outermost gate and be/* 
 gan to go through some of the courts, in which 
 stood lime trees here and there, growing green 
 tenderly with that Maytime, though the north 
 wind bit so keenly* 
 
 H o w strange again ! as I went farther, there seemx 
 ed no doubt of it; here in the aftertime came that 
 pool, how I knew not; but in the few minutes 
 that we were riding from the outer gate to the 
 castlexporch I thought so intensely over the pro/ 
 
 147 
 
Lindcnborg bable cause for the existence of that pool, that 
 Pool (howstrange!) I could almost have thought I was 
 
 back again listening to the oozing of the land' 
 springs through the high clay banks there* I was 
 wakened from that, before it grew too strong, 
 by the glare of many torches, and, dismounting, 
 found myself in the midst of some twenty attenx 
 dants, with flushed faces and wildly sparkling 
 eyes, which they were vainly trying to soften to 
 due solemnity; mock solemnity I had almost said, 
 for they did not seem to think it necessary to apx 
 pear really solemn, and had difficulty enough ap^ 
 parently in not prolonging indefinitely the shout 
 of laughter with which they had at first greeted 
 me* 'Take the holy father to my Lord/ said one 
 at last, 'and we will go with him/ 
 So they led me up the stairs into the gorgeouslyx 
 furnished chamber; the li ght from the heavy wax^ 
 en candles was pleasant to my eyes after the glare 
 and twisted red smoke of the pinextorches; but 
 all the essences scattered about the chamber were 
 not enough to conquer the fiery breath of those 
 about me. I put on the alb and stole they brought 
 me, and, before I went up to the sick man, looked 
 round on those that were in the rooms; for the 
 rooms opened one into the other by many doors, 
 across some of which hung gorgeous tapestry; all 
 the rooms seemed to have many people, for some 
 stood at these doors, and some passed to and fro, 
 swinging aside the heavy hangings; once several 
 148 
 
people at once, seemingly quite by accident, drew Lindenborg 
 aside almost all the veils from the doors, and Pool 
 showed an endless perspective of gorgeousness* 
 And at these things my heart fainted for horror. 
 4 Had not the Jews of late/ thought I, the priest, 
 'been very much in the habit of crucifying childx 
 ren in mockery of the Holiest, holding gorgeous 
 feasts while they beheld the poor innocents die ? 
 These men are atheists, you arc in a trap ; yet quit 
 yourself like a man/ 
 
 'Ah, sharp one/ thought I, the author, 'where 
 are you at last? try to pray as a test* Well, well, 
 these things are strangely like devils. O man, 
 you have talked about bravery often, now is your 
 time to practise it: once for all trust in God, or I 
 fear you are lost/ 
 
 Moreover it increased my horror that there was 
 no appearance of awomaninall these rooms; and 
 yet was there not? there, those things*.* I looked 
 more intently; yes, no doubt they were women, 
 but all dressed like men ; what a ghastly place ! 
 'O man! do your duty/ my angel said; then in 
 spite of the bloodshot eyes of man and woman 
 there, in spite of their bold looks, they quailed 
 before me* 
 
 I stepped up to the bed-side, where under the vel^ 
 vet coverlid lay the dying man, his small sparkx 
 ling eyes (but dulled now by coming death) only 
 showing above the swathings* I was about to 
 kneel down by the bed/side to confess him, when 
 
 149 
 
Lindcnborg one of those .*, things*** called out (now they had 
 Pool just been whispering and sniggering together, 
 
 but the priest in his righteous, brave scorn would 
 not look at them; the humbled author, half fear x 
 ful, half trustful, dared not): so one called out: 
 4 Sir Priest, for three days our master has spoken 
 no articulate word; you must pass over all parx 
 ticulars ; ask for a sign only/ 
 Such a strange ghastly suspicion flashed across 
 me just then; but I choked it, and asked the 
 dying man if he repented of his sins, and if he 
 believed all that was necessary to salvation, and, 
 if so, to make a sign, if he were able: the man 
 moved a little and groaned ; so I took it for a sign, 
 as he was clearly incapable either of speaking or 
 moving, and accordingly began the service for 
 the administration of the sacraments; and as I 
 began, those behind me & through all the rooms 
 (I know it was through all of them) began to 
 move about, in a bewildering dance^like motion, 
 mazy and intricate; yes, and presently music 
 struck up through all those rooms, music & singx 
 ing, lively and gay ; many of the tunes I had heard 
 before (in the nineteenth century); I could have 
 sworn to half a dozen of the polkas* 
 The rooms grew fuller and fuller of people; they 
 passed thick and fast between the rooms, and the 
 hangings were continually rustling; one fat old 
 man with a big belly crept under the bed where I 
 was, and wheezed and chuckled there, laughing 
 150 
 
and talking to one who stooped down and lifted Lindenborg 
 
 up the hangings to look at him* Pool 
 
 Still more and more people talking and singing 
 
 and laughing and twirling about, till my brain 
 
 went round and round, and I scarce knew what 
 
 I did; yet, somehow, I could not leave off; I dared 
 
 not even look over my shoulder, fearing lest I 
 
 should see something so horrible as to make me 
 
 die* So I got on with the service, and at last took 
 
 the pyx, & took thereout the sacred wafer; wherex 
 
 upon was a deep silence through all those rooms, 
 
 which troubled me, I think, more than all which 
 
 had gone before, for I knew well it did not mean 
 
 reverence* I held it up, that which I counted so 
 
 holy, when lo ! great laughter, echoing like thunx 
 
 der/claps through all the rooms, not dulled by 
 
 the veiling hangings, for they were all raised up 
 
 together: and, with a slow upheaval of the rich 
 
 clothes among which he lay, with a sound that 
 
 was half snarl, half grunt, with helpless body 
 
 swathed in bedclothes, a huge swine that I had 
 
 been shriving tore from me the Holy Thing, 
 
 deeply scoring my hand as he did so with tusk 
 
 and tooth, so that the red blood ran quick on to 
 
 the floor* Therewithal he rolled down on to the 
 
 floor, and lay there helplessly, only able to roll to 
 
 and fro, because of the swathings* Then right 
 
 madly skirled the intolerable laughter, rising 
 
 to shrieks that were fearfuller than any scream 
 
 of agony I ever heard; the hundreds of people 
 
Lindenborg through all those grand rooms danced & wheeled 
 Pool about me, shrieking, hemming me in with interx 
 
 laced arms, the women loosing their long hair 
 and thrusting forward their horribly/grinning un^ 
 sexed faces toward me till I felt their hot breath* 
 Oh ! how I hated them all ! almost hated all manx 
 kind for their sakes; how I longed to get right quit 
 of all men ; among whom, as it seemed, all sacredx 
 est things even were made a mock of* I looked 
 about me fiercely, I sprang forward, and clutched 
 a sword from the gilded belt of one of those who 
 stood near me; with savage blows that threw the 
 blood about the gilded walls and their hangings 
 right over the heads of those*** things*** I cleared 
 myself from them, and tore down the great stairs 
 madly, yet could not, as in a dream, go fast enough, 
 because of my passion* 
 
 I was out in the courtyard among the lime trees 
 soon, the north wind blowing freshly on my 
 heated forehead in that dawn* The outer gate 
 was locked and bolted; I stooped and raised a great 
 stone and sent it at the lock with all my strength, 
 and I was stronger than ten men then; iron and 
 oak gave way before it, and through the ragged 
 splinters I tore in reckless fury, like a wild horse 
 through a hazel hedge* 
 
 And no one had pursued me* I knelt down on the 
 dear green turf outside, and thanked God with 
 streaming eyes for my deliverance, praying Him 
 forgiveness for my unwilling share in that night's 
 152 
 
mockery. Then I arose and turned to go, but even Lindenborg 
 
 as I did so I heard a roar as if the world were com/ Pool 
 
 ing in two, and looking toward the castle, saw, 
 
 not a castle, but a great cloud of white lime/dust 
 
 swaying this way and that in the gusts of the 
 
 wind* Then while the east grew bright there ax 
 
 rose a hissing, gurgling noise, that swelled into 
 
 the roar and wash of many waters, and by then 
 
 the sun had risen a deep black lake lay before my 
 
 feet. And this is how I tried to fathom the Lin/ 
 
 denborg Pool, 
 
 153 
 
THE HOLLOW LAND. A TALE. 
 
 We find in ancient story wonders many told 
 Of heroes in great glory, with spirit free and bold; 
 Ofjoyancesandhighxtides,ofweeping&ofwoe, 
 Of noble Recken striving, mote ye now wonders know, 
 Nibelungen Lied (see Carlyle's Miscellanies). 
 
 CHAPTER I. STRUGGLING IN THE 
 WORLD. 
 
 DO you know where it is, the Hollow Land? I 
 have been looking for it now so long, trying to 
 find it again, the Hollow Land; for there I saw 
 my love first* I wish to tell you how I found it first 
 of all; but I am old, my memory fails me: you 
 must wait and let me think if I perchance can tell 
 you how it happened. Yea, in my ears is a conx 
 fused noise of trumpetxblasts singing over desox 
 late moors, in my ears and eyes a clashing and 
 clanging of horsexhoofs, a ringing and glittering 
 of steel: drawnxback lips, set teeth, shouts, shrieks 
 and curses. 
 
 How was it that no one of us ever found it till 
 that day? For it is near our country: but what 
 time have we to look for it or any good thing, with 
 such biting carking cares hemming us in on every 
 side? Cares about great things, mighty things; 
 mighty things, O my brothers! or rather little 
 things enough,if weonlyknewit. Livespassed in 
 turmoil, in making one another unhappy; in bitx 
 terest misunderstanding of our brothers' hearts, 
 '54 
 
making those sad whom God has not made sad : The Hollov 
 
 alas, alas! what chance for any of us to find the Land 
 
 Hollow Land ? what time even to look for it ? Yet 
 
 who has not dreamed of it? Who, half miserable 
 
 yet the while, for that he knows it is but a dream, 
 
 has not felt the cool waves round his feet, the 
 
 roses crowning him, and through the leaves of 
 
 beech and lime the many whispering winds of the 
 
 Hollow Land? 
 
 Now my name was Florian, and my House was 
 
 the House of the Lilies; and of that House was 
 
 my father Lord, and after him my eldest brother 
 
 Arnald: and me they called Florian de Liliis* 
 
 Moreover, when my father was dead there arose 
 
 a feud between the Lilies' H ouse and Red Harald: 
 
 and this that follows is the history of it* Lady 
 
 Swanhilda, Red Harald' s mother, was a widow 
 
 with one son, Red Harald; and when she had 
 
 been in widowhood two years, being of princex 
 
 ly blood, and besides comely and fierce, King 
 
 Urrayne sent to demand her in marriage* And 
 
 I remember seeing the procession leaving the 
 
 town, when I was quite a child; and many young 
 
 knights and squires attended the Lady Swanx 
 
 hilda as pages, and amongst them Arnald, my 
 
 eldest brother* And as I gazed out of the winx 
 
 dow, I saw him walking by the side of her horse, 
 
 dressed in white and gold very delicately; but as 
 
 he went it chanced that he stumbled* Now he was 
 
 one of those that held a golden canopy over the 
 
 155 
 
The Hollow lady's head, so that it now sank into wrinkles, 
 Land and the lady had to bow her head full low, and 
 
 even then the gold brocade caught in one of the 
 long slim gold flowers that were wrought round 
 about the crown she wore. She flushed up in her 
 rage, and her smooth face went suddenly into the 
 carven wrinkles of a wooden waterspout, and 
 she caught at the brocade with her left hand, and 
 pulled it away furiously, so that the warp and 
 woof were twisted out of their places, and many 
 gold threads were left dangling about the crown : 
 but Swanhilda stared about when she rose, then 
 smote my brother across the mouth with her gildx 
 ed sceptre, and the red blood flowed all about his 
 garments; yet he only turned exceeding pale, and 
 dared say no word, though he was heir to the 
 House of the Lilies: but my small heart swelled 
 with rage, and I vowed revenge, and as it seems 
 he did too* 
 
 So when Swanhilda had been queen three years, 
 she suborned many of King Urrayne's knights 
 and lords, and slew her husband as he slept, and 
 reigned in his stead* And her son Harald grew 
 up to manhood, and was counted a strong knight 
 and well spoken of by then I first put on my arm^ 
 our* Then one night as I lay dreaming I felt a 
 hand laid on my face, and starting up saw Arnald 
 before me fully armed* He said : * Florian, rise and 
 arm/ I did so, all but my helm, as he was* He 
 kissed me on the forehead : his lips felt hot and 
 156 
 
dry, and when they brought torches and I could The Hollow 
 
 see his face plainly, I saw he was very pale* He Land 
 
 said: 'Do you remember, Florian, this day six^ 
 
 teen years ago ? It is a long time, but I shall never 
 
 forget it unless this night blots out its memory/ 
 
 I knew what he meant, and because my heart was 
 
 wicked I rejoiced exceedingly at the thought of 
 
 vengeance, so that I could not speak, but only laid 
 
 my palm across his lips* 'Good; you have a good 
 
 memory, Florian* See now, I waited long and 
 
 long: I said at first, I forgive her; but when the 
 
 news came concerning the death of the king, and 
 
 how that she was shameless, I said: I will take it 
 
 as a sign, if God does not punish her within cerx 
 
 tain years, that He means me to do so; and I have 
 
 been watching and watching now these two years 
 
 for an opportunity, and behold it is come at last; 
 
 and I think God has certainly given her into our 
 
 hands, for she rests this night, this very Christ^ 
 
 mas Eve, at a small walled town on the frontier, 
 
 not two hours' gallop from this: they keep little 
 
 ward there, and the night is wild : moreover the 
 
 prior of a certain house of monks just without 
 
 the walls is my fast friend in this matter, for she 
 
 has done him some great injury* In the courtyard 
 
 below a hundred and fifty knights and squires, all 
 
 faithful and true, are waiting for us: one moment 
 
 and we shall be gone/ Then we both knelt down 
 
 and prayed God to give her into our hands ; we put 
 
 on our helms and went down into the courtyard* 
 
 157 
 
The Hollow It was the first time I expected to use a sharp 
 Land sword in anger, and I was full of j oy as the muffled 
 
 thunder of our horse'hoofs rolled through the bitx 
 ter winter night* In about an hour and a half we 
 had crossed the frontier, and in half an hour more 
 the greater part had halted in a wood near the 
 Abbey, while I with a few others went up to the 
 Abbey gates and knocked loudly four times with 
 my swordxhilt, stamping on the ground mean/ 
 time* A long low whistle answered me from withx 
 in, which I in my turn answered; then the wicket 
 opened and a monk came out holding a lantern, 
 He seemed yet in the prime of life, and was a tall, 
 powerful man* He held the lantern to my face, 
 then smiled, and said: 'The banners hang low/ 
 I gave the countersign: 'The crest is lopped off/ 
 'Good, my son/ said he; 'the ladders are within 
 here* I dare not trust any of the brethren to carry 
 them for you, though they love not the witch 
 either; but they are timorsome/ 'No matter/ I 
 said; 'I have men here/ So they entered and bex 
 gan to shoulder the tall ladders : the prior was very 
 busy* 'You will find them just the right length, 
 my son; trust me for that/ He seemed quite a 
 jolly pleasant man; I could not understand his 
 nursing furious revenge: but his face darkened 
 strangely whenever he happened to mention her 
 name* 
 
 As we were starting he came and stood outside 
 the gate, and putting his lantern down that the 
 
 158 
 
light of it might not confuse his sight, looked The Hollow 
 
 earnestly into the night; then said: 'The wind Land 
 
 has fallen, the snowflakes get thinner and smaller 
 
 every moment; in an hour it will be freezinghard, 
 
 and will be quite clear: everything depends upon 
 
 the surprise being complete; stop a few minutes 
 
 yet, my son/ He went away chuckling, and rex 
 
 turned presently with two more sturdy monks car/ 
 
 rying something : they threw their burdens down 
 
 before my feet ; they consisted of all the white albs 
 
 in the abbey* ' There, trust an old man who has 
 
 seen more than one stricken fight in his carnal 
 
 days; let the men who scale the walls put these 
 
 over their arms, and they will not be seen in the 
 
 least* God make your sword sharp, my son/ So 
 
 we departed ; & when I met Arnald again he said 
 
 that what the prior had done was well thought 
 
 of: so we agreed that I should take thirty men, 
 
 an old squireof our house well skilled in war along 
 
 with them; scale the walls as quietly as possible, 
 
 and open the gates to the rest* 
 
 I set offaccordingly, after that with low laughing 
 
 we had put the albs all over us, wrapping the 
 
 ladders also in white* Then we crept very warily 
 
 and slowly up to the wall; the moat was frozen 
 
 over, and on the ice the snow lay quite thick : we all 
 
 thought that the guards must be careless enough, 
 
 when they did not even take the trouble to break 
 
 the ice in the moat* So we listened : there was no 
 
 sound at all; the Christmas midnight mass had 
 
The Hollow long ago been over; it was nearly three o'clock, 
 Land and the moon began to clear; there was scarce 
 
 any snow falling now, only a flake or two from 
 somelowhurryingcloud or other: the wind sighed 
 gently about the round towers there, but it was 
 bitter cold, for it had begun to freeze again* We 
 listened for some minutes, about a quarter of an 
 hour, I think; then at a sign from me they raised 
 the ladders carefully, muffled as they were at the 
 top with swathings of wool* I mounted first, old 
 Squire Hugh followed last; noiselessly we as/ 
 cended, and soon stood all together on the walls : 
 then we carefully lowered the ladders again with 
 long ropes; we got our swords and axes from out 
 of the folds of our priest's raiment, and set for/ 
 ward till we reached the first tower along thewall* 
 The door was open; in the chamber at the top 
 there was afire slowly smouldering, nothing else: 
 we passed through it, and began to go down the 
 spiral staircase, I first, with my axe shortened in my 
 hand* Wliat if we were surprised there, I thought, 
 and I longed to be out in the air again ; what if 
 the door were fast at the bottom ? As we passed 
 the second chamber we heard some one within 
 snoring loudly : I looked in quietly, and saw a big 
 man, with long black hair that fell off his pillow 
 and swept the ground, lying snoring with his nose 
 turned up and his mouth open ; but he seemed so 
 sound asleep that we did not stop to slay him* 
 Praise be! the door was open* Without even a 
 160 
 
whispered word, without a pause, we went on The Hollow 
 
 along the streets, on the side that the drift had Land 
 
 been on, because our garments were white* For 
 
 the wind being very strongall that day, the houses 
 
 on that side had caught in their cornices and carv> 
 
 ings, and on the rough stone and wood of them, 
 
 so much snow that except here and there where 
 
 the black walls grinned out they were quite white* 
 
 No man sawus as we stole along, noiselessly bex 
 
 cause of the snow, till we stood within a hundred 
 
 yards of the gates and their house of guard* And 
 
 we stood, because we heard the voice of some one 
 
 singing: 
 
 4 Queen Mary's crown was gold, 
 King Joseph's crown was red, 
 But Jesus' crown was diamond 
 That lit up all the bed 
 
 Mariae Virginia*' 
 
 So they had some guards after all: this was clearx 
 ly the sentinel that sang to keep the ghosts off* 
 Now for a fight* We drew nearer, a few yards 
 nearer, then stopped to free ourselves from our 
 monk's clothes* 
 
 4 Ships sail through the heaven 
 With red banners dressed, 
 Carrying the planets seven 
 To see the white breast 
 
 Mariae Virginia/ 
 y 161 
 
The Hollow Thereat he must have seen the waving of some 
 Land alb or other as it shivered down to the ground, 
 
 for his spear fell with a thud, and he seemed to 
 be standing openmouthed, thinking something 
 about ghosts ; then plucking up heart of grace he 
 roared out like ten bull-calves, and dashed into 
 the guard'house* We followed smartly, but with' 
 out hurry, and came up to the door of it just as 
 some dozen halfxarmed men came tumbling out 
 under our axes; thereupon, while our men slew 
 them, I blew a great blast upon my horn, and 
 Hugh with some others drew bolt and bar and 
 swung the gates wide open* Then the men in the 
 guardxhouse understood that they were taken in 
 a trap, and began to stir with great confusion; so 
 lest they should get quite waked and armed I left 
 Hugh at the gates with ten men, and myself led 
 the rest into that house* There, while we slew all 
 those that yielded not, came Arnald with the 
 others, bringing our horses with them; then all 
 the enemy threw their arms down* And we countx 
 ed our prisoners and found them over fourscore; 
 therefore, not knowing what to do with them (for 
 they were too many to guard, and it seemed un/ 
 knightly to slay them all), we sent up some bow- 
 men to the walls, and turning our prisoners out 
 of gates bade them run for their lives; which they 
 did fast enough, not knowing our numbers, and 
 our men sent a few flights of arrows among them 
 that they might not be undeceived* 
 162 
 
Then the one or two prisoners that we had left The Hollow 
 
 told us, when we had crossed our axes over their Land 
 
 heads, that the people of the good town would 
 
 not willingly fight us, in that they hated the 
 
 Queen; that she was guarded at the palace by 
 
 some fifty knights, and that beside there were no 
 
 others to oppose us in the town. So we set out for 
 
 the palace spear in hand* We had not gone far be/ 
 
 fore we heard some knights coming; and soon, 
 
 in a turn of the long street, we saw them riding 
 
 towards us: when they caught sight of us they 
 
 seemed astonished, drew rein, and stood in some 
 
 confusion* We did not slacken our pace for an in/ 
 
 stant,but rode right at them with a yell, to which 
 
 I lent myself with all my heart* After all they 
 
 did not run away, but waited for us with their 
 
 spears held out; I missed the man I had marked, 
 
 or hit him rather just on the top of the helm: he 
 
 bent back, and the spear slipped over his head, 
 
 but my horse still kept on, and I felt presently 
 
 such a crash that I reeled in my saddle, and felt 
 
 mad* He had lashed out at me with his sword as 
 
 I came on, hitting me in the ribs (for my arm was 
 
 raised), but only flatlings* I was quite wild with 
 
 rage; I turned, almost fell upon him, caught him 
 
 by the neck with both hands & threw him under 
 
 the horse/hoofs, sighing with fury* I heard Ar/ 
 
 nald's voice close to me, * Well fought, Florian' ; 
 
 and I saw his great stern face bare among the 
 
 iron, for he had made a vow in remembrance of 
 
 163 
 
The Hollow that blow always to fight unhelmed: I saw his 
 Land great sword swinging in wide gyres & hissing as 
 
 it started up, just as if it were alive and liked it* So 
 joy filled all my soul, & I fought with my heart, 
 till the big axe I swung felt like nothing but a 
 little hammer in my hand, except for its bitter^ 
 ness: and as for the enemy, they went down like 
 grass, sothat we destroyed them utterly ; forthose 
 knights would neither yield nor fly, but died as 
 they stood, so that some fifteen of our men also 
 died there* 
 
 Then at last we came to the palace, where some 
 grooms and such like kept the gates armed; but 
 some ran, and some we took prisoners, one of 
 whom died for sheer terror in our hands, being 
 stricken by no wound; for he thought we would 
 eat him.These prisoners we questioned concern^ 
 ing the Queen, and so entered the great hall* 
 There Arnald sat down in the throne on the dais, 
 and laid his naked sword before him on the table, 
 and on each side of him sat such knights as there 
 was room for, and the others stood round about; 
 while I took ten men, & went to look for Swan^ 
 hilda* I found her soon, sitting by herself in a 
 gorgeous chamber* I almost pitied her when I 
 saw her looking so utterly desolate & despairing; 
 her beauty too had faded, deep lines cut through 
 her face* But when I entered she knew who I 
 was, and her look of intense hatred was so fiendx 
 like that it changed my pity into horror of her* 
 164 
 
4 Knight/ she said, 'who are you? and what do The Hollow 
 you want, thus discourteously entering my chamx Land 
 ber?' 'lamFloriande Liliis,and I am to conduct 
 you to judgment/ She sprang up, 4 Curse you & 
 your whole house ! you I hate worse than any, 
 girl's face! Guards, guards V and she stamped on 
 the ground, the veins in her forehead swelled, her 
 eyes grew round and flamed out, as she kept cry 
 ing for her guards, stamping the while; for she 
 seemed quite mad. Then at last she remembered 
 that she was in the power of her enemies; she sat 
 down, and lay with her face between her hands 
 and wept passionately. 'Witch/ I said between 
 my closed teeth, 'will you come, or must we carry 
 you down to the great hall?' Neither would she 
 come, but sat there clutching at her dress and 
 tearing her hair. Then I said : ' Bind her, and carry 
 her down/ And they did so. 
 I watched Arnald as we came in; there was no 
 triumph on his stern white face, but resolution 
 enough; he had made up his mind. They placed 
 her on a seat in the midst of the hall over against 
 the dais. He said: 'Unbind her, Florian/ They 
 did so; she raised her face and glared defiance at 
 us all, as though she would die queenly after all. 
 Then rose up Arnald and said: 'Queen Swanx 
 hilda, we judge you guilty of death; and because 
 you are a queen and of a noble house you shall be 
 slain by my knightly sword, and I will even take 
 the reproach of slaying a woman, for no other 
 
 165 
 
The Hollow hand than mine shall deal the blow/ Then she 
 Land said: 'O false knight, show your warrant from 
 
 God, man, or devil/ 'This warrant from God, 
 Swanhilda/ he said, holding up his sword; 'list" 
 en! Fifteen years ago, when I was just winning 
 my spurs, you struck me, disgracing me before 
 all the people : you cursed me, & meant that curse 
 well enough* Men of the House of the Lilies, 
 what sentence for that?' 4 Death !' they said* 
 4 Listen ! Afterwards you slew my cousin your 
 husband, treacherously, in the most cursed way, 
 stabbing him in the throat, as the stars in the 
 canopy above him looked down on the shut eyes 
 of him* Men of the House of the Lily, what senx 
 tence for that?' 4 Death !' they said* 4 Uo you hear 
 them, Queen ? There is warrant from man : for 
 the devil, I do not reverence him enough to take 
 warrant from him; but as I look at that face of 
 yours I think that even he has left you/ And inx 
 deed just then all her pride seemed to leave her; 
 she fell from the chair & wallowed on the ground 
 moaning; she wept like a child, so that the tears 
 lay on the oak floor ; she prayed for another month 
 of life; she came to me & kneeled and kissed my 
 feet and prayed piteously, so that water ran out 
 of her mouth* But I shuddered and drew away; 
 it was like having an adder about one: I could 
 have pitied her had she died bravely, but for one 
 like her to whine and whine ! pah ! 
 Then from the dais rang Arnald's voice terrible, 
 166 
 
much changed: 'Let there be an end of all this/ The Hollow 
 And he took his sword and strode through the Land 
 hall towards her; she rose from the ground and 
 stood up, stooping a little, her head sunk between 
 her shoulders, her black eyes turned up & gleam/ 
 ing, like a tigress about to spring* When he came 
 within some six paces of her something in his 
 eye daunted her, or perhaps the flashing of his 
 terrible sword in the torchlight: she threw her 
 arms up with a great shriek, and dashed scream^ 
 ing about the halL Arnald' s lip never once curled 
 with any scorn, no line in his face changed; he 
 said: 'Bring her here and bind her/ But when 
 one came up to her to lay hold on her she first of 
 all ran at him, hitting him with her head in the 
 belly. Then while he stood doubled up for want 
 of breath, & staring with his head up, she caught 
 his sword from the girdle, and cut him across the 
 shoulders; and many others she wounded sorely 
 before they took her* Then Arnald stood by the 
 chair to which she was bound, and poised his 
 sword; and there was a great silence* Then he 
 said: 'Men of the House of the Lilies, do you 
 justify me in this? Shall she die?' Straightway 
 rang a great shout through the hall; but before it 
 died away the sword had swept round, & there^ 
 withal was there no such thing as Swanhilda left 
 upon the earth, for in no battlefield had Arnald 
 struck truer blow* Then he turned to the few ser^ 
 vants of the palace and said : ' Go now, bury this 
 
 .67 
 
The Hollow accursed woman, for she is a king's daughter/ 
 Land Then to us all: * Now, knights, to horse & away, 
 
 that we may reach the good town by about dawn/ 
 So we mounted and rode off* 
 What a strange Christmasxday that was! for 
 there, about nine o'clock in the morning, rode 
 Red Harald into the good town to demand ven/' 
 geance* He went at once to the King, and the 
 King promised that before nightfall that very 
 day the matter should be judged: albeit the King 
 feared somewhat, because every third man you 
 met in the streets had a blue cross on his shoulder, 
 and some likeness of a lily, cut out or painted, 
 stuck in his hat; and this blue cross and lily were 
 the bearings of our House, called De Liliis* Now 
 we had seen Red Harald pass through the streets, 
 with a white banner borne before him, to show 
 that he came peaceably as for this time; but I 
 trow he was thinking of other things than peace* 
 And he was called Red Harald first at this time, 
 because over all his arms he wore a great scarlet 
 cloth that fell in heavy folds about his horse and 
 all about him* Then, as he passed our house, 
 someone pointed it out to him, rising there with 
 its carving and its barred marble, but stronger 
 than many a castle on the hilltops ; and its great 
 overhanging battlement cast a mighty shadow 
 down the wall and across the street; and above all 
 rose the great tower, our banner floating proudly 
 from the top, whereon was emblazoned on a white 
 168 
 
ground a blue cross, and on a blue ground four The Hollow 
 white lilies* And now faces were gazing from all Land 
 the windows, & all the battlements were throng/- 
 ed: so Harald turned, and rising in his stirrups, 
 shook his clenched fist at our house; natheless as 
 he did so the east wind coming down the street 
 caught up the corner of that scarlet cloth & drove 
 it over his face, and therewithal disordering his 
 long black hair, wellxnigh choked him, so that he 
 bit both his hair and that cloth* So from base to 
 coping rose a mighty shout of triumph and defix 
 ance, and he passed on* 
 
 Then Arnald caused it to be cried that all those 
 who loved the good House of the Lilies should 
 go to mass that morning in Saint Mary's church, 
 hard by our house* Now this church belonged to 
 us, and the abbey that served it, and always we 
 appointed the abbot of it on condition that our 
 trumpets should sound all together when on high 
 masses they sing the Gloria in Excelsis* It was 
 the largest and most beautiful of all the churches 
 in the town, and had two exceeding high towers, 
 which you could see from far off, even when you 
 saw not the town, or any of its other towers; and 
 in one of these towers were twelve great bells 
 named after the twelve Apostles, one name bex 
 ing written on each one of them, as Peter, Matx 
 thew, and so on; and in the other tower was one 
 great bell only, much larger than any of the othx 
 ers, which was called Mary* Now this bell was 
 z 169 
 
The Hollow never rung but when our House was in great 
 Land danger; and it had this legend on it: WHEN 
 
 MARY RINGSTHE EARTH SHAKES; 
 and indeed from this we took our war-cry, which 
 was ' Mary rings' : somewhat justifiably indeed, 
 for the last time that Mary rang, on that day be^ 
 fore nightfall there were four thousand bodies to 
 be buried, which bodies wore neither cross nor 
 lily. 
 
 So Arnald gave me in charge to tell the abbot to 
 cause Mary to be tolled for an hour before mass 
 that day* The abbot leaned on my shoulder as I 
 stood within the tower and looked at the twelve 
 monks laying their hands to the ropes* Far up in 
 the dimness I saw the wheel before it began to 
 swing round about; then it moved a little: the 
 twelve men bent down to the earth, and a roar 
 rose that shook the tower from base to spirexvane* 
 Backwards and forwards swept the wheel, as 
 Mary now looked downwards towards earth, 
 now looked up at the shadowy cone of the spire, 
 shot across by bars of light from the dormers* 
 And the thunder of Mary was caught up by the 
 wind and carried through all the country; and 
 when the goodman heard it he said good-bye to 
 wife and child, slung his shield behind his back, 
 and set forward with his spear sloped over his 
 shoulder; and many a time, as he walked toward 
 the good town, he tightened the belt that went 
 about his waist that he might stride the faster, so 
 170 
 
long and furiously did Mary toll* And before the The Hollow 
 
 great bell Mary had ceased ringing all the ways Land 
 
 were full of armed men* 
 
 But at each door of the church of Saint Mary 
 
 stood a row of men armed with axes; and when 
 
 any came meaning to go into the church, the two 
 
 first of these would hold their axes, whose helves 
 
 were about four feet long, over his head, & would 
 
 ask him : 4 Who went over the moon last night ? ' 
 
 Then if he answered nothing, or at random, they 
 
 would bid him turn back, which he for the more 
 
 part would be ready enough to do: but some, 
 
 striving to get through that row of men, were 
 
 slain outright* But if he were one of those that 
 
 were friends to the House of the Lilies he would 
 
 answer to that question : ' Mary and John/ 
 
 By the time the mass began the whole church 
 
 was full, and in the nave and transept thereof 
 
 were three thousand men, all of our House and 
 
 all armed* But Arnald and myself and Squire 
 
 Hugh and some others sat under a goldxfringed 
 
 canopy near the choir; and the abbot said mass, 
 
 having his mitre on his head* Yet as I watched 
 
 him it seemed to me that he must have something 
 
 on beneath his priest's vestments, for he looked 
 
 much fatter than usual, being really a tall lithe 
 
 man* Now as they sang the Kyrie someone 
 
 shouted from the other end of the church: l My 
 
 lord Arnald, they are slaying our people without ; ' 
 
 for indeed all the square about the church was 
 
The Hollow full of our people, who for the press had not been 
 Land able to enter, and were standing there in no small 
 
 dread of what might come to pass* 
 Then the abbot turned round from the altar, and 
 began to fidget with the fastenings of his rich 
 robes* And they made a lane for us up to the west 
 door; then I put on my helm, and we began to 
 go up the nave; then suddenly the singing of the 
 monks and all stopped* I heard a clinking and a 
 buzz of voices in the choir; I turned and saw that 
 the bright noon sun was shining on the gold of 
 the priests' vestments as they lay on the floor, and 
 on the mail that the priests carried* So we stop/ 
 ped; the choir gates swung open, and the abbot 
 marched out at the head of his men, all fully arm/ 
 ed, and began to strike up the psalm Exsurgat 
 Deus* 
 
 When we got to the west door, there was indeed 
 a tumult, but as yet no slaying* The square was 
 all a/flicker with steel, & we beheld a great body 
 of knights, at the head of them Red Harald and 
 the King, standing over against us: but our peo/ 
 pie, pressed against the houses & into the corners 
 of the square, were some striving to enter the 
 doors, some beside themselves with rage, shout/ 
 ing out to the others to charge; withal, some were 
 pale, and some were red with the blood that had 
 gathered to the wrathful faces of them*Then said 
 Arnald to those about him : 4 Lift me up/ So they 
 laid a great shield on two lances, and these four 
 172 
 
men carried, and thereon stood Arnald and gazed The Hollow 
 
 abouthim* Nowthe King was unhelmed,and his Land 
 
 white hair (for he was an old man) flowed down 
 
 behind him on to his saddle; but Arnald' s hair 
 
 was cut short, and was red* And all the bells rang* 
 
 Then the King said : 4 O Arnald of the Lilies, 
 
 will you settle this quarrel by the judgment of 
 
 God?' And Arnald thrust up his chin and said: 
 
 'Yea/ 'How then?' said the King/ and where?' 
 
 'Will it please you try now?' said Arnald* Then 
 
 the King understood what he meant, and took in 
 
 his hand from behind tresses of his long white 
 
 hair, twisting them round his hand in his wrath, 
 
 but yet said no word, till I suppose his hair put 
 
 him in mind of something, and he raised it in both 
 
 his hands above his head, and shouted out aloud: 
 
 'O knights, hearken to this traitor!' Whereat 
 
 indeed the lances began to move ominously* But 
 
 Arnald spoke : ' O you king and lords, what have 
 
 we to do with you ? Were we not free in the old 
 
 time up among the hills there ? Wherefore give 
 
 way, and we will go to the hills again, and if any 
 
 man try to stop us, his blood be on his own head* 
 
 Wherefore now' (and he turned) 'all you House 
 
 of the Lily, both soldiers and monks, let us go 
 
 forth together fearing nothing, for I think there 
 
 is not bone enough or muscle enough in these 
 
 fellows here that have a king that they should 
 
 stop us withal, but only skin and fat*' And truly 
 
 no man dared to stop us, and we went* 
 
The Hollow CHAR IL FAILING IN THE WORLD. 
 
 Land Now at that time we drove cattle in Red Harx 
 
 aid's land, and we took nohoof but fromthelords 
 and rich men; but of thesewehad amighty drove, 
 both oxen and sheep, and horses, and besides even 
 hawks and hounds, and a huntsman or two to 
 take care of them* And about noon we drew away 
 from the corn lands that lay beyond the pastures 
 and mingled with them, and reached a wide moor, 
 which was called Goliah's Land; I scarce know 
 why, except that it belonged neither to Red Harx 
 aid nor to us, but was debatable* And the cattle 
 began to go slowly, and our horses were tired, and 
 the sun struck down very hot upon us; for there 
 was no shadow, and the day was cloudless* All 
 about the edge of the moor, except on the side 
 from which we had come, was a rim of hills, not 
 very high, but very rocky and steep; otherwise 
 the moor itself was flat; and through these hills 
 was one pass, guarded by our men, which pass 
 led to the HillxCastle of the Lilies* 
 It was not wonderful that of this moor many wild 
 stories weretold,beingsuch a strange lonely place; 
 some of them one knew, alas ! to be overxtrue* In 
 the old time, before we went to the good town, 
 this moor had been the musteringxplace of our 
 people; and our House had done deeds enough 
 of blood and horror to turn our white lilies red, 
 and our blue cross to a fiery one* But some of those 
 wild tales I never believed; they had to do mostly 
 
with men losing their way without any apparent The Hollow 
 
 cause (for there were plenty of landmarks) , fincU Land 
 
 ing some well/known spot, and then, just beyond 
 
 it, a place they had never even dreamed of* ' Florx 
 
 ian! Florian!' said Arnald*' For God's sake stop, 
 
 as every one else is stopping, to look at the hills 
 
 yonder! I always thought there was a curse upon 
 
 us ! What does God mean by shutting us up here ? 
 
 Look at the cattle! O Christ, they have found it 
 
 out too! See, some of them are turning to run 
 
 back again towards Harald's land! O unhappy, 
 
 unhappy, from that day forward ! ' H e leaned forx 
 
 ward, rested his head on his horse's neck, and wept 
 
 like a child* I felt so irritated with him that I could 
 
 almost have slain him then and there* \)^as he 
 
 mad? Had these wild doings of ours turned his 
 
 strong wise head ? i Are you my brother Arnald, 
 
 that I used to think such a grand man when I was 
 
 a boy ? ' I said* ' Or are you changed too, like every x 
 
 body and everything else ? What do you mean ?' 
 
 ' Look, look ! ' he said, grinding his teeth in agony* 
 
 I raised my eyes : where was the one pass between 
 
 the rim of stern rocks ? Nothing: the enemy bex 
 
 hind us, that grim wall in front : what wonder that 
 
 each man looked in his fellow's face for help, and 
 
 found it not? Yet I refused to believe that there 
 
 was any truth either in the wild stories that I had 
 
 heard when I was a boy, or in this story told 
 
 me so clearly by my eyes now* I called out cheerx 
 
 ily : ' Hugh, come here ! ' He came* ' What do you 
 
 '75 
 
The Hollow think of this? Some mere dodge on HaralcTs part? 
 
 Land Are we cut off? ' i Think, Sir Florian? God forgive 
 
 me for ever thinking at all ! I have given up that 
 long and long ago, because thirty years ago I 
 thought this; that the House of the Lilies would 
 deserve anything in the way of bad fortune that 
 God would send them: so I gave up thinking, and 
 took to fighting* But if you think that Harald 
 had anythingto do with this, why***why, in God's 
 name, I wish I could think so VI felt a dull weight 
 on my heart* Had our House been the devil's 
 servants all along? I thought we were God's ser/ 
 vants* 
 
 The day was very still, but what little wind there 
 was was at our backs* I watched Hugh's face, not 
 being able to answer him* He was the cleverest 
 man at war that I have known, either before or 
 since that day; sharper than any hound in ear 
 and scent, clearerxsighted than any eagle : he was 
 listening now intently* I saw a slight smile cross 
 his face; heard him mutter: 'Yes, I think so; 
 verily that is better, a great deal better*' Then he 
 stood up in his stirrups and shouted: 'Hurrah 
 forthe Lilies! Mary rings!' 'Mary rings!' I shout/ 
 ed, though I did not know the reason for his ex/ 
 ultation: my brother lifted his head and smiled 
 too, grimly* Then as I listened I heard clearly 
 the sound of a trumpet, an enemy's trumpet too* 
 'After all it was only mist or some such thing,' 
 I said; for the pass between the hills was clear 
 176 
 
enough now* ' Hurrah ! only mist!' said Arnald, The Hollow 
 quite elated* ' Mary rings!' And we all began to Land 
 think of fighting; for after all what joy is equal 
 to that? 
 
 There were five hundred of us: two hundred 
 spears* the rest archers; and both archers and men' 
 atxarms were picked men* 4 How many of them 
 are we to expect ?' said I* 'Not under a thousand, 
 certainly; probably more* Sir Florian/ My brox 
 ther Arnald* by the way, had knighted me before 
 we left the good town* and Hugh liked to give 
 me the handle to my name* How was it, by the 
 way, that no one had ever made him a knight? 
 'Let every one look to his arms and horse, and 
 come away from these silly cows' sons !' shouted 
 Arnald* Hugh said: 'They will be here in an 
 hour, fair sir/ So we got clear of the cattle, and 
 dismounted, and both ourselves took food and 
 drink, and our horses* Afterwards we tightened 
 our saddlegirths, shook our great pots of helmets 
 on, except Arnald, whose rusty /red hair had been 
 his only headpiece in battle for years and years, 
 and stood with our spears close by our horses, 
 leaving room for the archers to retreat between 
 our ranks : and they got their arrows ready, and 
 planted their stakes before a little peat moss : and 
 there we waited, and saw their pennons at last 
 floating high above the corn of the fertile land; 
 then heard their manyhorse^hoofs ring upon the 
 hard^parched moor, & the archers began to shoot* 
 aa 177 
 
The Hollow IT HAD been a strange battle; we had never 
 Land fought better, and yet withal it had ended in a re^ 
 
 treat; indeed all along every man but Arnald and 
 myself, even Hugh, had been trying at least to get 
 the enemy between him and the way toward the 
 pass : and now we were all drifting that way, the 
 enemy trying to cut us off, but never able to stop 
 us, because he could only throw small bodies of 
 men in our way, whom we scattered and put to 
 flight in their turn* I never cared less for my life 
 than then; indeed, in spite of all my boasting and 
 hardness of belief, I should have been happy to 
 have died, such a strange weight of apprehension 
 was on me; and yet I got no scratch even* I had 
 soon put off my great helm, and was fighting in 
 my mailxcoif only: and here I swear that three 
 knights together charged me, aiming at my bare 
 face, yet never touched me; for as for one, I put 
 his lance aside with my sword, and the other two 
 in some wonderful manner got their spears locked 
 in each other's armour, and so had to submit to be 
 knocked off their horses* 
 
 And we still neared the pass, and began to see 
 distinctly the ferns that grew on the rocks, and 
 the fair country between the rift in them spread' 
 ing out there blue^shadowed* Whereupon came 
 a great rush of men of both sides, striking side 
 blows at each other, spitting, cursing, and shriekx 
 ing, as they tore away like a herd of wild hogs* So 
 being careless of life, as I said, I drew rein, and 
 178 
 
turning my horse waited quietly for them; and I The Hollow 
 
 knotted the reins, and laid them on the horse's Land 
 
 neck, and stroked him that he whinnied ; then got 
 
 both my hands to my sword* Then as they came 
 
 on I noted hurriedly that the first man was one 
 
 of Arnald's men, and one of our men behind him 
 
 leaned forward to prod him with his spear, but 
 
 could not reach so far; till he himself was run 
 
 through the eye with a spear, and throwing his 
 
 arms up fell dead with a shriek* Also I noted conx 
 
 cerning this first man, thatthe laces of his helmet 
 
 were loose, and when he saw me he lifted his left 
 
 hand to his head, took off his helm, and cast it at 
 
 me, and still tore on* The helmet flew over my 
 
 head, and I sitting still there swung out, hitting 
 
 him on the neck; his head flew right off, for the 
 
 mail no more held than a piece of silk* ' Mary 
 
 rings P And my horse whinnied again, and we 
 
 both of us went at it, and fairly stopped that rout, 
 
 so that there was a knot of quite close and desx 
 
 perate fighting, wherein we had the best of that 
 
 fight, and slew most of them, albeit my horse was 
 
 slain and my mailxcoif cut through* Then I bade 
 
 a squire fetch me another horse, and began mean' 
 
 while to upbraid those knights for running such 
 
 a strange disorderly race, instead of standing and 
 
 fighting cleverly* Moreover we had drifted even 
 
 in this successful fight still nearer to the pass, so 
 
 that the conies who dwelt there were beginning 
 
 to consider whether they should not run into their 
 
 179 
 
The Hollow holes* But one of those knights said: 'Be not 
 Land angry with me, Sir Florian, but do you think you 
 
 will go to Heaven?' 'The saints! I hope so/ I 
 said* But one who stood near him whispered to 
 him to hold his peace, so I cried out: 'O friend, I 
 hold this world & all therein so cheap now, that 
 I see not anything in it but shame which can any 
 longer anger me; wherefore speak out/ 'Then, 
 Sir Florian, men say that atyour christening some 
 fiend took onhimthelikenessofapriestand strove 
 to baptise you in the devil's name; but God had 
 mercy on you, so that the fiend could not choose 
 but baptise you in the name of the most holy 
 Trinity: and yet men say that you hardly believe 
 any doctrine such as other men do, and will in the 
 end only go to Heaven round about as it were, 
 not at all by the intercession of Our Lady: they 
 say too that you can see no ghosts or other wonx 
 ders, whatever happens to other Christian men/ 
 I smiled: 'Well, friend, I scarcely call this a disx 
 advantage; moreover what has it to do with the 
 matter in hand?' 
 
 How was this, in Heaven's name ? We had been 
 quite still, resting, while this talk was going on; 
 but we could hear the hawks chattering from the 
 rocks, we were so close now* And my heart sank 
 within me : there was no reason why this should 
 not be true; there was no reason why anything 
 should not be true* 'This, Sir Florian,' said the 
 knight again; 'how would you feel inclined to 
 180 
 
fight if you thought that everything about you The Hollow 
 
 was mere glamour, this earth here, the rocks, the Land 
 
 sun, the sky? I do not know where I am for cerx 
 
 tain, I do not know that it is not midnight instead 
 
 of undern, I do not know if I have been fighting 
 
 men or only simulacra; but I think, we all think 
 
 that we have been led into some devil's trap or 
 
 other, and,*, and (may God forgive me my sins) 
 
 I wish I had never been born/ There now! he 
 
 was weeping; they all wept. How strange it was 
 
 to see those rough bearded men blubbering there, 
 
 and snivelling till the tears ran over their armour 
 
 and mingled with the blood, so that it dropped 
 
 down to the earth in a dim, dull, red rain ! 
 
 My eyes indeed were dry, but then so was my 
 
 heart; I felt far worse than weeping came to, 
 
 but nevertheless I spoke cheerily: 'Dear friends, 
 
 "where are your old men's hearts gone to now? 
 
 See now! this is a punishment for our sins, is it? 
 
 ^JC^ell, for our forefathers' sins, or our own? If the 
 
 first, O brothers, be very sure that if we bear it 
 
 manfully God will have something very good in 
 
 store for us hereafter; but if for our sins, is it not 
 
 certain that He cares for us yet? For note that He 
 
 suffers the wicked to go their own ways pretty 
 
 much ; moreover brave men, brothers, ought to 
 
 be the masters of simulacra. Come, is it so hard to 
 
 die once for all ?' Still no answer came from them ; 
 
 they sighed heavily only, I heard the sound of 
 
 more than one or two swords as they rattled back 
 
The Hollow to their scabbards; nay, one knight, stripping 
 Land himself of surcoat and hauberk, and drawing his 
 
 dagger, looked at me with a grim smile, and said: 
 'Sir Florian, do so!' Then he drew the dagger 
 across his throat & he fell back dead* They shud/ 
 dered, those brave men, and crossed themselves* 
 And I had no heart to say a word more, but 
 mounted the horse which had been brought to 
 me, and rode away slowly for a few yards : then I 
 became aware that there was a great silence over 
 the whole field* So I lifted my eyes, and looked; 
 and behold, no man struck at another* 
 Then from out of a band of horsemen came 
 Harald, and he was covered all over with a great 
 scarlet cloth as before, put on over the head, and 
 flowing all about his horse, but rent with the fight* 
 He put offhis helm and drew back his mailxcoif ; 
 then took a trumpet from the hand of a herald 
 and blew strongly* And in the midst of this blast 
 I heard a voice call out: 'O Florian, come and 
 speak to me for the last time ! ' So when I turned 
 I beheld Arnald standing by himself, but near 
 him stood Hugh and ten others with drawn 
 swords* Then I wept, and so went to him weep^ 
 ing; and he said: 'Thou seest, brother, that we 
 must die, and I think by some horrible and unx 
 heardxof death; & the House of the Lilies is just 
 dying too : and now I repent me of Swanhilda's 
 death ; now I know that it was a poor cowardly 
 piece of revenge instead of a brave act of justice ; 
 
thus has God shown us the right* O Florian, The Hollow 
 
 curse me ! So will it be straighten Truly thy rno^ Land 
 
 ther when she bore thee did not think of this; 
 
 rather saw thee in the tourney at this time in her 
 
 fond hopes, glittering with gold & doing knight/* 
 
 ly, or else mingling thy brown locks with the 
 
 golden hair of some maiden weeping for the love 
 
 of thee* God forgive me ! God forgive me ! ' 4 What 
 
 harm, brother? I said ;' this is only failing in the 
 
 world; what if we had not failed? In a little while 
 
 it would have made no difference* Truly just now 
 
 I felt very miserable, but now it has passed away, 
 
 and I am happy/ 'O brave heart V he said; 'yet 
 
 we shall part just now. Florian, farewell V 'The 
 
 road is long/ I said; 'farewell/ Then we kissed 
 
 each other, and Hugh and the others wept* 
 
 Now all this time the trumpets had been ringing, 
 
 ringing, great doleful peals; then they ceased, & 
 
 above all sounded Red Harald's voice* So I look' 
 
 ed round towards that pass, and when I looked 
 
 I no longer doubted any of those wild tales of 
 
 glamour concerning Goliah's Land: for though 
 
 the rocks were the same, and though the conies 
 
 still stood gazing at the doors of their dwellings ; 
 
 though the hawks still cried out shrilly, though 
 
 the fern still shook in the wind; yet beyond, O 
 
 such a land! not to be described by any because 
 
 of its great beauty; lying, a great Hollow Land, 
 
 the rocks going down on this side in precipices; 
 
 then reaches & reaches of loveliest country, trees 
 
The Hollow and flowers and corn; then the hills, green and 
 Land blue and purple, till their ledges reached the white 
 
 snowy mountains at last* Then, with all manner 
 of strange feelings, my heart in the midst of my 
 body was even like melting wax* 
 'O you House of the Lily! you are conquered, 
 yet I will take vengeance only on a few; therefore 
 let all those who wish to live come and pile their 
 swords and shields and helms behind me in three 
 great heaps, and swear fealty afterwards to me: 
 yes, all but the false knights Arnald and Florian/ 
 We were holding each other's hands and gazing; 
 and we saw all our knights, yea, all but Squire 
 Hugh and his ten heroes, pass over the field sin^ 
 gly, or in groups of three or four, with their heads 
 hanging down in shame; and they cast down 
 their notched swords and dinted lilied shields and 
 bravexcrested helms into three great heaps behind 
 Red Harald, then stood behind, no man speaking 
 to his fellow, or touching him* 
 Then dolefully the great trumpets sang over the 
 dying House of the Lily, and Red Harald led his 
 men forward, but slowly; on they came, spear 
 and mail glittering in the sunlight; and I turned 
 and looked at that good land, and a shuddering 
 delight seized my soul* But I felt my brother's 
 hand leave mine, and saw him turn his horse's 
 head and ride swiftly toward the pass, that was a 
 strange pass now* And at the edge he stopped, 
 turned round, and called out aloud: 'I pray thee, 
 184 
 
Harald, forgive me! Now farewell all!' Then The Hollow 
 
 the horse gave one bound forward, and we heard Land 
 
 the poor creature's scream when he felt that he 
 
 must die, and we heard afterwards (for we were 
 
 near enough for that even) a clang and a crash. 
 
 So I turned me about to Hugh, & he understood 
 
 me though I could not speak* We shouted all 
 
 together: 4 Mary rings I' then laid our bridles on 
 
 the necks of our horses, spurred forward, and in 
 
 five minutes they were all slain, and I was down 
 
 among the horse^hoofs* Not slain though, not 
 
 wounded* Red Harald smiled grimly when he 
 
 saw me rise and lash out again; he and some ten 
 
 others dismounted and came holding their long 
 
 spears out: I went back, back, back: I saw what 
 
 it meant, and sheathed my sword, & their laughx 
 
 ter rolled all about, and I too smiled* 
 
 Presently they all stopped, and I felt the last foot 
 
 of turf giving under my feet; I looked down, and 
 
 saw the crack there widening: then in a moment 
 
 I fell, and a cloud of dust and earth rolled after 
 
 me* Then again their mirth rose into thunderx 
 
 B:als of laughter; but through it all I heard Red 
 arald shout : ' Silence, evil dogs ! ' For as I fell I 
 stretched out my arms, and caught a tuft of yelx 
 low broom some three feet from the brow; and 
 hung there by the hands, my feet being loose in 
 the air* Then Red Harald came and stood on the 
 precipice above me, his great axe over his shoul' 
 der; and he looked down on me not ferociously, 
 bb 185 
 
The Hollow almost kindly, while the wind from the Hollow 
 
 Land Land blew about his ted raiment, tattered and 
 
 dusty now. And I felt happy, though it pained 
 
 me to hold straining by the broom; yet I said: ' I 
 
 will hold out to the last/ It was not long; the 
 
 Elant itself gave way, and I fell; and as I fell I 
 tinted* 
 
 CHAP. IIL LEAVING THE WORLD. 
 FYTTE THE FIRST. 
 
 I HAD thought when I fell that I should never 
 wake again ; but I woke at last. For a long time I 
 was quite dizzied and could see nothing at all : 
 horrible doubts came creeping over me: I half 
 expectedtoseepresentlygreathal&formedshapes 
 come rolling up to me to crush me; something 
 fiery, not strange, too utterly horrible to be strange, 
 but utterly vile & ugly, the sight of which would 
 have killed me when I was upon the earth, come 
 rolling up to torment me. In fact I doubted if I 
 were in hell. I knew I deserved to be, but I prayed, 
 and then it came into my mind that I could not 
 pray if I were in hell. Also there seemed to be a 
 cool green light all about me which was sweet. 
 Then presently I heard a glorious voice ring out 
 clear, close to me: 
 
 Christ keep the Hollow Land 
 Through the sweet springtide, 
 When the apple^blossoms bless 
 The lowly bent hillside. 
 186 
 
Thereat my eyes were slowly unsealed; and I saw The Hollow 
 
 the blessedest sight I have ever seen before or Land 
 
 since; for I saw my Love* She sat about five yards 
 
 from me on a great grey stone that had much 
 
 moss on it, one of the many scattered along the 
 
 side of the stream by which I lay; she was clad in 
 
 loose white raiment close to her hands & throat; 
 
 her feet were bare, her hair hung loose a long way 
 
 down, but some of it lay on her knees* I said white 
 
 raiment, but long spikes of light scarlet went 
 
 down from the throat, lost here and there in the 
 
 shadows of the folds, and growing smaller and 
 
 smaller died before they reached her feet* 
 
 I was lying with my head resting on soft moss 
 
 that someone had gathered and placed under me* 
 
 She, when she saw me moving and awake, came 
 
 and stood over me with a gracious smile* She was 
 
 so lovely and tender to look at, and so kind; yet 
 
 withal no one. man or woman, had ever frightx 
 
 ened me half so much* She was not fair in white 
 
 and red as many beautiful women are, being 
 
 rather pale, but like ivory for smoothness; and 
 
 her hair was quite golden, not light yellow but 
 
 dusky golden* I tried to get up on my feet, but 
 
 was too weak, and sank back again* She said: 
 
 ' No, not just yet; do not trouble yourself, or try 
 
 to remember anything just at present/ Therex 
 
 withal she kneeled down & hung over me closer* 
 
 'Tomorrow you may perhaps have something 
 
 hard to do or bear, I know, but now you must be 
 
The Hollow as happy as you can be, quietly happy* Why did 
 Land you start and turn pale when I came to you ? Do 
 
 you not know who I am? Nay, but you do, I see; 
 and I have been waiting here so long for you, so 
 you must have expected to see me. You cannot 
 be frightened of me; are you?' But I could not 
 answer a word; but all the time strange knowx 
 ledge, strange feelings, were filling my brain and 
 my heart. She said: * You are tired; rest, & dream 
 happily/ So she sat by me, and sang to lull me to 
 sleep, while I turned on my elbow and watched 
 the waving of her throat: and the singing of all 
 the poets I had ever heard, and of many others 
 too, not born till years after I was dead, floated 
 all about me as she sang, and I did indeed dream 
 happily, 
 
 Wlien I awoke it was the time of the cold dawn, 
 and the colours were gathering themselves tox 
 gether; whereat in fatherly approving fashion 
 the sun sent all across the east long bars of scarlet 
 and orange, that after faded through yellow to 
 green and blue. And she sat by me still: I think 
 she had been sitting there and singing all the 
 time; all through hot yesterday, for I had been 
 sleeping daylong and night-long; all through the 
 falling evening, under moonlight and starlight 
 the night through; and now it was dawn* And I 
 think too that neither of us had moved at all; for 
 the last thing I remembered before I went to sleep 
 was the tips of her fingers brushing my cheek as 
 188 
 
she knelt over me with down/drooping arm, and The Hollow 
 still now I felt them there* Moreover she was just Land 
 finishing some fainting measure that died before 
 it had time to get painful in its passion* 
 Dear Lord, how I loved her! yet did I not dare 
 to touch her or even speak to her* She smiled 
 with delight when she saw I was awake again, 
 and slid down her hand on to mine; but some 
 shuddering dread made me draw it away again 
 hurriedly: then I saw the smile leave her face* 
 W^hat would I not have given for courage to hold 
 her body quite tight to mine ? But I was so weak* 
 She said: 'Have you been very happy?' 'Yea/ 
 I said* It was the first word I had spoken there, 
 and my voice sounded strange* 'Ah!' she said, 
 'you will talk more when you get used to the air 
 of the Hollow Land* Have you been thinking of 
 your past life at all? If not, try to thinkof it* What 
 thing in H eaven or E arth do you wish for most ? ' 
 Still I said no word ; but she said in a wearied way : 
 'Well now, I think you will be strong enough to 
 get to your feet and walk; take my hand and try*' 
 Therewith she held it out; I strove hard to be 
 brave enough to take it, but could not; I only 
 turned away shuddering* sick and grieved to the 
 heart's core of me* Then, struggling hard with 
 hand and knee and elbow, I scarce rose, and stood 
 up totteringly, while she watched me sadly, still 
 holding out her hand* But as I rose, in my swingx 
 ing to and fro the steel sheath of mysword struck 
 
 189 
 
The Hollow her on the hand so that the blood flowed from 
 Land it; which she stood looking at for awhile, then 
 
 dropped it downwards, and turned to look at me, 
 for I was going* Then as I walked she followed 
 me; so I stopped and turned, and said almost 
 fiercely: ' I am going alone to look for my brother/ 
 The vehemence with which I spoke, or somex 
 thing else, burst some bloods-vessel within my 
 throat, and we both stood there with the blood 
 running from us on to the grass and summer 
 flowers* She said: 'If you find him, wait with 
 him till I come/ ' Yea; 'and I turned and left her, 
 following the course of the stream upwards; and 
 as I went I heard her low singing, that almost 
 broke my heart for its sadness* 
 And I went painfully because of my weakness, 
 and because also of the great stones; and somex 
 times I went along a spot of earth where the river 
 had been used to flow in floodxtime, and which 
 was now bare of everything but stones; and the 
 sun, now risen high, poured down on everything 
 a great flood of fierce light and scorching heat, 
 and burnt me sorely, so that I almost fainted* But 
 about noontide I entered a wood close by the 
 stream, a beech/wood, intending to rest myself* 
 The herbage was thin and scattered there, sprout' 
 ing up from amid the leaf'sheaths and nuts of 
 the beeches which had fallen year after year on 
 that same spot* The outside boughs swept low 
 down; the air itself seemed green when you en/- 
 190 
 
tered within the shadow of the branches, they The Hollow 
 overxroofed the place so with tender green, only Land 
 here and there showing spots of blue* 
 But what lay at the foot of a great beechxtree but 
 some dead knight in armour, only the helmet off? 
 A wolf was prowling round about it, who ran ax 
 way snarling when he sawme coming* So I went 
 up to that dead knight, and fell on my knees bex 
 fore him, laying my head on his breast; for it was 
 Arnald* He was quite cold, but had not been 
 dead for very long: I would not believe him dead, 
 but went down to the stream and brought him 
 water, tried to make him drink***what would you? 
 He was as dead as Swanhilda; neither came there 
 any answer to my cries that afternoon but the 
 moaning of the woodxdoves in the beeches* So 
 then I sat down and took his head on my knees, 
 and closed his eyes, and wept quietly while the 
 sun sank lower* 
 
 But alittleafter sunset I heardarustle through the 
 leaves that was not the wind, and looking up, my 
 eyes met the pitying eyes of thatmaiden* Somex 
 thing stirred rebelliously within me; I ceased 
 weeping, and said: 'It is unjust, unfair! What 
 right had Swanhilda to live? Did not God give 
 her up to us? How much better was he than ten 
 Swanhildas? and look you***See! he is dead!' 
 Now this I shrieked out, being mad; and though 
 I trembled when I saw some stormy wrath that 
 vexed her very heart and loving lips gathering on 
 
 191 
 
The Hollow her face, I yet sat there looking at her & scream/ 
 Land ing, screaming, till all the place rang* But when, 
 
 growing hoarse and breathless, I ceased, she said 
 with straightened brow and scornful mouth : 'So I 
 bravely done ! Must I then, though I am a wo/ 
 man, call youaliar for saying Godis unjust? How 
 many times when she woke in the dead night do 
 you suppose she missed seeing King Urrayne's 
 pale face and hacked head lying on the pillow by 
 her side? Whether by night or day, what things 
 but screams did she hear when the wind blew 
 loud round about the palace corners? And did 
 not that face too often come before her pale and 
 bleeding as it was long ago, and gaze at her from 
 unhappy eyes ? Poor eyes ! with changed purpose 
 in them; no more hope of converting the world 
 when that blow was once struck*** truly it was 
 very wicked*** no more dreams, but only fierce 
 struggles with the devil for very life; no more 
 dreams, but failure at last, and death; happier so 
 in the Hollow Land/ She grew so pitying as she 
 gazed at his dead face that I began to weep again 
 unreasonably, while she saw not that I was weep/ 
 ing, but looked only on ArnakTs face; but after 
 turned on me frowning* 4 Unjust? yes, truly un/ 
 just enough to take away life and all hope from 
 her! You have done a base cowardly act, you and 
 your brother here, disguise it as you may: you 
 deserve all God's judgments; you**/ But I turned 
 my eyes and wet face to her, and said: 'Do not 
 192 
 
curse me*,there! do not look like Swanhflda! for The Hollow 
 see now, you said at first that you had been wait' Land 
 ing long for me: give me your hand now, for I 
 love you so/ Then she came and knelt by where 
 I sat, and I caught her in my arms, & she prayed 
 to be forgiven* 'O Florian! I have indeed waited 
 long for you, and when I saw you my heart was 
 filled with joy; but you would neither touch me 
 nor speak to me, so that I became almost mad. 
 Forgive me ; we will be so happy now ! O, do you 
 know, this is what I have been waiting for all 
 these years : it made me glad, I know, when I was 
 a little baby in my mother's arms, to think I was 
 born for this; and afterwards, as I grew up, I used 
 to watch every breath of wind through the beech' 
 boughs, every turn of the silver poplar leaves, 
 thinking it might be you, or some news of you/ 
 Then I rose, and drew her up with me; but she 
 knelt again by my brother's side, and kissed him, 
 and said: 'O brother! the Hollow Land is only 
 second best of the places God has made; for 
 Heaven also is the work of His hand/ Afterwards 
 we dug a deep grave amongthe beech^roots, and 
 there we buried Arnald de Liliis. 
 And I have never seen him since, scarcely even 
 in dreams* Surely God has had mercy on him, 
 for he was very leal and true and brave; he loved 
 many men, and was kind and gentle to his friends, 
 neither did he hate any but Swanhilda. But as 
 for us two, Margaret and me, I cannot tell you 
 cc 193 
 
The Hollow concerning our happiness; such things cannot be 
 Land told : only this I know, that we abode continually 
 
 in the Hollow Land until I lost it. Moreover, this 
 I can tell you, Margaret was walking with me, 
 as she often walked, near the place where I had 
 first seen hen Presently we came upon a woman 
 sitting, dressed in scarlet and gold raiment, with 
 her head laid down upon her knees; likewise we 
 heard her sobbing* ' Margaret, who is she?' I 
 said; 'I knew not that any dwelt in the Hollow 
 Land but we two only/ She said: 'Iknownotwho 
 she is; only sometimes these many years I have 
 seen her scarlet robe flaming from far away amid 
 the quiet green grass; but I was never so near her 
 as this* Florian, I am afraid; let us come away/ 
 
 FYTTE THE SECOND. 
 Such a horrible grey November day it was; the 
 fog'smell all about, the fogcreeping into ourvery 
 bones* And I sat there, trying to recollect at any 
 rate something, under those firxtrees that I ought 
 to have known so well* Just think now; I had 
 lost my best years somewhere, for I was past the 
 prime of life; my hair and beard were scattered 
 with white, my body was growing weaker, my 
 memory of all things was very faint* My raiment, 
 purple and scarlet and blue once, was so stained 
 that you could scarce call it any colour, was so 
 tattered that it scarce covered my body, though it 
 seemed once to have fallen in heavy folds to my 
 194 
 
feet, and still when I rose to walk, though the The Hollow 
 
 miserable November mist lay in great drops upx Land 
 
 on my bare breast, yet was I obliged to wind my 
 
 raiment over my arm, it draggled so (wretched, 
 
 slimy, textureless thing) in the brown mud* On 
 
 my head was a light morion which pressed on my 
 
 brow and pained me ; so I put my hand up to take 
 
 it off, but when I touched it I stood still in my walk 
 
 shuddering, I nearly fell to the earth with shame 
 
 and horror; for I laid my hand onalumpof slimy 
 
 earth with worms coiled up in it* I could scarce for^ 
 
 bear from shrieking; but breathing such a prayer 
 
 as I could think of I raised my hand again and 
 
 seized it firmly* Worse horror still! the rust had 
 
 eaten it into holes, and I gripped my own hair as 
 
 well as the rotting steel, the sharp edge of which 
 
 cut into my fingers; but setting my teeth I gave 
 
 a great wrench, for I knew that if I let go of it 
 
 then no power on the earth or under it could make 
 
 me touch it again* God be praised! I tore it off 
 
 and cast it far from me; I saw the earth and the 
 
 worms, and green weeds, and sun/begotten slime, 
 
 whirling out from it radiatingly as it spun round 
 
 about* 
 
 I was girt with a sword too, the leathern belt of 
 
 which had shrunk and squeezed my waist; dead 
 
 leaves had gathered in knots about the buckles of 
 
 it, the gilded handle was encrusted with clay in 
 
 many parts, the velvet sheath miserably worn* 
 
 But verily when I took hold of the hilt, and dread/ 
 
 '95 
 
The Hollow ed lest instead of a sword I should find a serpent 
 Land inmyhand,lo,then I drew out my own true blade 
 
 and shook it, flawless from hilt to point, gleaming 
 white in that mist* Therefore it sent a thrill of 
 joy to my heart to knowthat there was onefriend 
 left me yet; I sheathed it again carefully, and unx 
 doing it from my waist hung it about my neck. 
 Then catching up my rags in my arms, I drew 
 them up till my legs and feet were altogether clear 
 from them; afterwards I folded my arms over my 
 breast, gave a long leap, and ran looking down< 
 ward, but not giving heed to my way* Once or 
 twice I fell over stumps of trees and such like, for 
 it was a cut/down wood that I was in; but I rose 
 always, though bleeding and confused, and went 
 on still, sometimes tearing madly through briars 
 and furze bushes, so that my blood dropped on 
 the dead leaves as I went* 
 
 I ran in this way for about an hour; then I heard 
 a gurgling and splashingof waters ; I gave a great 
 shout, and leapt strongly with shut eyes, and the 
 black water closed over me* When I rose again, 
 I saw near me a boat with a man in it, but the 
 shore was far off* I struck out toward the boat, 
 but my clothes, which I had knotted and folded 
 about me, weighed me down terribly* The man 
 looked at me, and began to paddle toward me 
 with the oar he held in his left hand, having in 
 his right a long slender spear, barbed like a fishx 
 hook : perhaps, thought I, it is some fishing spear : 
 196 
 
moreover his raimentwas of scarlet, with upright The Hollow 
 
 stripes of yellow and black all over it* Wlien my Land 
 
 eye caught his, a smile widened his mouth as if 
 
 some one had made a joke : but I was beginning to 
 
 sink, and indeed my head was almost underwater 
 
 just as he came and stood above me; but before 
 
 it went quite under I saw his spear gleam, then 
 
 felt it in my shoulder, and for the present felt no^ 
 
 thing else. 
 
 When I woke I was on the bank of that river; 
 
 the flooded waters went hurrying past me, no 
 
 boat on them now* From the river the ground 
 
 went up in gentle slopes till it grew a great hill, 
 
 and there, on that hillxtop*** Yes, I might forget 
 
 many things, almost everything, but not that; 
 
 not the old castle of my fathers up among the 
 
 hills, its towers blackened now and shattered, yet 
 
 still no enemy's banner waved from it* So I said 
 
 I would go and die there; and at this thought I 
 
 drew my sword, which yet hung about my neck, 
 
 and shook it in the air till the true steel quivered; 
 
 then began to pace towards the castle* I was quite 
 
 naked, no rag about me; I took no heed of that, 
 
 only thanking God that my sword was left, and 
 
 so toiled up the hill* I entered the castle soon by 
 
 the outer court; I knew the way so well that I did 
 
 not lift my eyes from the ground, but walked on 
 
 over the lower drawbridge, through the unguard/- 
 
 ed gates, and stood in the great hall at last, my 
 
 father's hall, as bare of everything but my sword 
 
The Hollow as when I came into the world fifty years before : 
 Land I had as little clothes, as little wealth, less memory 
 
 and thought, I verily believe, than then* 
 So I lifted up my eyes and gazed: no glass in the 
 windows, no hangings on the walls; the vaulting 
 yet held good throughout, but seemed to be gox 
 ing; the mortar had fallen out from between the 
 stones, and grass and fern grew in the joints; 
 the marble pavement was in some places gone, 
 and water stood about in puddles, though one 
 scarce knew how it had got there. No hangings 
 on the walls; no; yet strange to say instead of 
 them the walls blazed from end to end with scarlet 
 paintings, only striped across with green dampx 
 marks in many places, some falling bodily from 
 the wall, the plaster hanging down with the fadx 
 ing colour on it* In all of them, except for the 
 shadows and the faces of the figures, there was 
 scarce any colour but scarlet and yellow; here and 
 there it seemed the painter, whoever it was, had 
 tried to make his trees or his grass green, but it 
 would not do: some ghastly thoughts must have 
 filled his head, for all the green went presently 
 into yellow, out^sweeping through the picture 
 dismally* But the faces were painted to the very 
 life, or it seemed so; there were only five of them, 
 however, that were very marked or came much 
 in the foreground; and four of these I knew well, 
 though I did not then remember the names of 
 those that had borne them* They were Red Harx 
 198 
 
aid, Swanhilda, Arnald, and myself* The fifth I The Hollow 
 did not know; it was a woman's face, and very Land 
 beautiful* 
 
 Then I saw that in some parts a small penthouse 
 roof had been built over the paintings to keep 
 them from the weather* Near one of these stood 
 a man painting, clothed in red, with stripes of 
 yellow and black* Then I knew that it was the 
 same man who had saved me from drowning by 
 spearing me through the shoulder; so I went up 
 to him, and saw furthermore that he was girt 
 with a heavy sword* He turned round when he 
 saw me coming, and asked me fiercely what I did 
 there* I asked why he was painting in my castle* 
 Thereupon, with that same grim smile widening 
 his mouth as heretofore, he said: ' I paint God's 
 judgments/ And as he spoke he rattled the sword 
 in his scabbard* But I said : ' Well then, you paint 
 them very badly* Listen; I know God's judgx 
 ments much better than you do* See now; I will 
 teach you God's judgments, and you shall teach 
 me painting*' While I spoke he still rattled his 
 sword, and when I had done shut his right eye 
 tight, screwing his nose on one side; then said: 
 4 You have got no clothes on, and may go to the 
 devil! What do you know about God's judgx 
 ments ? ' ' Well, they are not all yellow & red at all 
 events ; you ought to know better*' He screamed 
 out : ' O you fool ! yellow and red ! Gold and blood ; 
 what do they make?' 'Well/ I said; 'what?' 
 
 199 
 
The Hollow ' HELL V And coming close up to me, he struck 
 Land me with his open hand in the face, so that the 
 
 colour with which his hand was smeared was 
 dabbed about my face* The blow almost threw 
 me down; and while I staggered he rushed at me 
 furiously with his sword* Perhaps it was good for 
 me that I had got no clothes on, for being utterly 
 unencumbered I leapt this way and that, and 
 avoided his fierce eager strokes till I could collect 
 myself somewhat: while he had a heavy scarlet 
 cloak on that trailed on the ground, and which he 
 often trod on so that he stumbled* 
 He very nearly slew me during the first few minx 
 utes, for it was not strange that together with 
 other matters I should have forgotten the art of 
 fence ; but yet as I went on, and sometimes bound' 
 ed about the hall under the whizzing of his sword, 
 as he rested sometimes leaning on it, as the point 
 sometimes touched my bare flesh, nay, once as 
 the whole sword fell flattings on my head and 
 made my eyes start out, I remembered the old 
 joy that I used to have, and the swy, swy of the 
 sharp edge as one gazed between one's horse's 
 ears ; moreover at last one fierce swift stroke, just 
 touching me below the throat, tore up the skin all 
 down my body and fell heavy on my thigh, so 
 that I drew my breath in and turned white* Then 
 first as I swung my sword round my head our 
 blades met; O to hear that tchink again! and I 
 felt the notch my sword made in his and swung 
 200 
 
out at him; but he guarded it and returned on The Hollow 
 me: I guarded right and left, and grew warm, and Land 
 opened my mouth to shout, but knew not what 
 to say, and our sword^points fell to the ground 
 together* Then when we had panted awhile, I 
 wiped from my face thebloodthat had been dashed 
 over it, shook my sword, and cut at him; then 
 we spun round and round in a mad waltz to the 
 measured music of our meeting swords; and some' 
 times either wounded the other somewhat, but 
 not much, till I beat down his sword on to his head 
 that he fell grovelling, but not cut through* Verily 
 thereupon my lips opened mightily with * Mary 
 rings P Then when he had gotten to his feet, I 
 went at him again, he staggering back, guarding 
 wildly; I cut at his head,he put his sword up conx 
 fusedly, sol fitted both hands to my hilt and smote 
 him mightily under the arm* Then his shriek 
 mingled with my shout made a strange sound tox 
 gether ; he rolled over and over, dead as I thought* 
 I walked about the hall in great exultation at 
 first, striking my swordxpoint on the floor every 
 now and then, till I grewfaintwith loss of blood; 
 then I went to my enemy, and stripped off some 
 of his clothes to bind up my wounds withal; 
 afterwards I found in a corner bread and wine, 
 and I ate and drank thereof* Then I went back 
 to him and looked ; and a thought struck me, and 
 I took some of his paints and brushes, and kneelx 
 ing down, painted his face thus, with stripes of 
 dd 201 
 
The Hollow yellow & red, crossing each other at right angles; 
 
 Land and in each of the squares so made I put a spot of 
 
 black, after the manner of the painted letters in 
 the prayer books and romances, when they are 
 ornamented* So I stood back as painters use, fold' 
 ed my arms, and admired my own handiwork* 
 Yet there struck me as being something so utter^ 
 ly doleful in the man's white face, and the blood 
 running all about him and washing off the stains 
 of paint from his face and hands and splashed 
 clothes, that my heart misgave me, and I hoped 
 that he was not dead* I took some water from a 
 vessel he had been using for his painting, and 
 kneeling washed his face* 
 
 Was it some resemblance to my father's dead 
 face, which I had seen when I was young, that 
 mademepityhim?Ilaidmyhand upon his heart 
 and felt it beating feebly; so I lifted him up gently 
 and carried him towards a heap of straw that he 
 seemed used to lie upon* There I stripped him 
 and looked to his wounds, and used leechxcraft, 
 the memory of which God gave me for this pur/ 
 pose, I suppose; and within seven days I found 
 that he would not die* Afterwards, as I wandered 
 about the castle, I came to a room in one of the 
 upper stories that had still the roof on, and winx 
 dows in it with painted glass; and there I found 
 green raiment and swords and armour, and I 
 clothed myself* 
 
 So when he got well I asked him what his name 
 202 
 
was, and he me; and we both of us said: 'Truly, The Hollow 
 I know not/ Then said I : * But we must call each Land 
 other by some name, even as men call days/ 'Call 
 me Swerker/ he said; 'some priest I knew once 
 had that name/ 'And me Wulf/ said I; 'though 
 wherefore I know not/ Then he said: 'Wulf, I 
 will teach you painting now; come and learn/ 
 Then I tried to learn painting till I thought I 
 should die; but at last learned it through very 
 much pain and grief* And as the years went on 
 and we grew old and grey we painted purple pu> 
 tures and green ones instead of the scarlet and 
 yellow, so thatthe walls looked altered; & always 
 we painted God's judgments* And we would sit 
 in the sunset and watch them, with the golden 
 light changing them as we yet hoped God would 
 change both us and our works* Often too we 
 would sit outside the walls and look at the trees 
 and sky, and the ways of thefewmen and women 
 we saw: therefrom sometimes befell adventures* 
 Once there went past a great funeral of someking 
 going to his own country, not as he had hoped to 
 go, but stiff and colourless, spices filling up the 
 place of his heart* And first went by very many 
 knights with long bright hauberks on, that fell 
 down before their knees as they rode ; and they all 
 had tilting/helms on with the same crest, so that 
 their faces were quite hidden: and this crest was 
 two hands clasped together tightly, as though they 
 were the hands of one praying forgiveness from 
 
 203 
 
The Hollow the one he loves best, and the crest was wrought 
 Land in gold* Moreover they had on over their hauberks 
 
 surcoats which were half scarlet and half purple, 
 strewn about with golden stars; also long lances 
 that had forked knight's/pennons, half purple 
 and half scarlet, strewn with golden stars* And 
 these went by with no sound but the fall of their 
 horse/hoofs: and they went slowly, so slowly that 
 we counted them all, five thousand five hundred 
 and fifty/five* Then went by many fair maid' 
 ens, whose hair was loose and yellow, and who 
 were all clad in green raiment ungirded, and shod 
 with golden shoes; these also we counted, being 
 five hundred* Moreover some of them, to wit, one 
 maiden to every twenty, had long silver trumpets, 
 which they swung out to right and left, blowing 
 them; and their sound was very sad* Then many 
 priests and bishops and abbots, who wore white 
 albs, and golden copes over them; and they all 
 sang together mournfully : 4 Super flumina Baby/ 
 lonis'; and these were three hundred* After that 
 came a great knot of the lords, who wore tilting/ 
 helmets and surcoats emblazoned with each one 
 his own device; only each had in his hand a small 
 staff two feet long, whereon was a pennon of 
 scarlet and purple* These also were three hun/ 
 dred* And in the midst of these was a great car 
 hung down to the ground with purple, drawn by 
 grey horses whose trappings were half scarlet, 
 half purple* And on this car lay the king, whose 
 204 
 
head and hands were bare; and he had on him a The Hollow 
 surcoat half purple and half scarlet, strewn with Land 
 golden stars* And his head rested on a tilting' 
 helmet whose crest was the hands of one praying 
 
 Eassionately for forgiveness* But his own hands 
 lybyhis side as if he had just fallen asleep* And 
 all about the car were little banners* half purple 
 and half scarlet, strewn with golden stars* Then 
 the king, who counted but as one, went by also* 
 And after him came again many maidens clad in 
 ungirt white raiment strewn with scarlet flowers, 
 and their hair was loose and yellow, and their feet 
 bare; and except for the falling of their feet and 
 the rustle of the wind through their raiment they 
 went past quite silently* These also were five 
 hundred* Then lastly came many young knights 
 with long bright hauberks falling over their knees 
 as they rode, and surcoats half scarlet and half 
 purple, strewn with golden stars* They bore long 
 lances with forked pennons which were half pur^ 
 pie, half scarlet, strewn with golden stars; their 
 heads and their hands were bare, but they bore 
 shields, each one of them, which were of bright 
 steel wrought cunningly in the midst with that 
 bearing of the two hands of one who prays for 
 forgiveness, which was done in gold* These were 
 but five hundred* 
 
 Then they all went by, winding up and up the 
 hill roads; and when the last of them had depart^ 
 ed out of our sight we put down our heads and 
 
 205 
 
The Hollow wept, and I said: 'Sing us one of the songs of 
 Land the Hollow Land/ Then he whom I had called 
 
 Swerkerput his hand into his bosom, and slowly 
 drew out a long, long tress of black hair, and laid 
 it on his knee and smoothed it, weeping on it* 
 So then I left him there, and went and armed 
 myself, and brought armour for him, and then 
 came back to him and threw the armour down 
 so that it clanged, and said: 'OHarald, let us go!' 
 He did not seem surprised that I called him by 
 the right name, but rose and armed himself, and 
 then he looked a good knight* 
 So we set forth, and in a turn of the long road we 
 came suddenly upon a most fair woman clothed 
 in scarlet, who sat and sobbed, holding her face 
 between her hands; and her hair was very black* 
 And when Harald saw her he stood and gazed 
 at her for long through the bars of his helmet; 
 then suddenly turned, and saidt'Florian, I must 
 stop here; do you go on to the Hollow Land* 
 Farewell/ ' Farewell*' And then I went on, never 
 turning back; and him I never saw more* And 
 so I went on, quite lonely but happy, till I had 
 reached the Hollow Land; into which I let myx 
 self down most carefully by the jutting rocks and 
 bushes and strange trailing flowers, and there lay 
 down and fell asleep* 
 
 FYTTE THE THIRD* 
 
 And I was waked by someone singing* I felt very 
 206 
 
happy; I felt youngagain; I had fair delicate raix The Hollow 
 merit on, my sword was gone and my armour* I Land 
 tried to think where I was, and could not for my 
 happiness; I tried to listen to the words of the 
 song: nothing, only an old echo in my ears; only 
 all manner of strange scenes from my wretched 
 past life before my eyes in a dim farxoffmanner* 
 Then at last, slowly, without effort, I heard what 
 she sang* 
 
 ' Christ keep the Hollow Land 
 All the summerxtide; 
 Still we cannot understand 
 Where the waters glide: 
 Only dimly seeing them 
 Coldly slipping through 
 Many greenxlipped cavern mouths 
 Where the hills are blue* 
 
 'Then/ she said, 'come now and look for it, love, 
 a hollow city in the Hollow Land/ 1 kissed Marx 
 garet, and we went* 
 
 Through the golden streets under the purple 
 shadows of the houses we went, and the slow 
 fanning backward and forward of the manyxcolx 
 cured banners cooled us: we two alone; there was 
 no one with us; no soul will ever be able to tell 
 what we said, how we looked* At last we came to 
 a fair palace, cloistered off in the old time before 
 the city grew golden from the din and hubbub of 
 
 207 
 
The Hollow traffic* Those who dwelt there in the old ungold-* 
 Land en times had had their own joys, their own sorx 
 
 rows, apart from the joys and sorrows of the mulx 
 titude: so in like manner was it now cloistered off 
 from the eager leaning and brotherhood of the 
 golden dwellings: so now it had its own gaiety, 
 its own solemnity apart from theirs; unchanged, 
 unchangeable were its marble walls, whatever 
 else changed about it* 
 
 We stopped before the gates and trembled, and 
 clasped each other closer; for there, among the 
 marble leafage and tendrils that were round and 
 under and over the archway that held the golden 
 valves, were wrought two figures of a man and 
 woman winged and garlanded, whose raiment 
 flashed with stars; and their faces were like faces 
 we had seen or half seen in some dream long and 
 long and long ago, so that we trembled with awe 
 and delight* And I turned, and seeing Margaret, 
 saw that her face was that face seen or half seen 
 long and long and long ago ; and in the shining of 
 her eyes I saw that other face, seen in that way 
 and no other long & long and long ago; my face* 
 And then we walked together toward the golden 
 gates, and opened them ; and no man gainsaid us* 
 And before us lay a great space of flowers* 
 
 208 
 
GOLDEN WINGS. 
 
 'Leflythestome, 
 
 Two wordes or three, 
 
 Of one that was faire and fre, 
 
 And felle in his fighte/ 
 Sir Perceval* 
 
 I SUPPOSE my birth was somewhat after the 
 birth of Sir Perceval of Galles, for I never saw my 
 father, and my mother brought me up quaintly, 
 not like a poor man's son; though indeed we had 
 little money, and lived in a lone place : it was on 
 a bit of waste land near a river, moist, and withx 
 out trees; on the drier parts of it folk had built 
 cottages*** see, I can count them on my fingers*** 
 six cottages, of which ours was one* 
 Likewise, there was a little chapel, with a yew 
 tree and graves in the churchxyard*** graves*** 
 yes, a great many graves, more than in the yards 
 of many Minsters I have seen, because people 
 fought a battle once near us, and buried many 
 bodies in deep pits, to the east of the chapel; but 
 this was before I was born* 
 
 I have talked to old knights since who fought in 
 that battle, and who told me that it was all about 
 a lady that they fought; indeed, this lady, who 
 was a queen, was afterwards, by her own wish, 
 buried in the aforesaid chapel in a most fair tomb ; 
 her image was of latoun gilt, and with a colour on 
 it; her hands and face were of silver, and her hair, 
 ee 209 
 
Golden gilded and most curiously wrought, flowed down 
 
 Wings from her head over the marble* It was a strange 
 
 thing to see that gold and brass and marble inside 
 
 that rough chapel which stood on the marshy 
 
 common, near the river. 
 
 Now, every St* Peter's day, when the sun was 
 at its hottest, in the mid/summer noontide, my 
 mother (though at other times she only wore 
 such clothes as the folk about us) would dress 
 herself most richly, and shut the shutters against 
 all the windows, and light great candles, and sit 
 as though she were a queen, till the evening: sit' 
 ting and working at a frame, and singing as she 
 worked* 
 
 And what she worked at was two wings, wrought 
 in gold, on a blue ground* And as for what she 
 sang, I could never understand it, though I know 
 now it was not in Latin* And she used to charge 
 me straitly never to let any man into the house 
 on St* Peter's day; therefore I and our dog, which 
 was a great old bloodhound, always kept the door 
 together* 
 
 But one St* Peter's day, when I was nearly twenty, 
 I sat in the house watching the door with the 
 bloodhound, & I was sleepy, because of the shut/ 
 up heat and my mother's singing, so I began to 
 nod, and at last, though the dog often shook me 
 by the hair to keep me awake, went fast asleep, 
 and began to dream a foolish dream without hear/ 
 ing, as men sometimes do : for I thought that my 
 210 
 
mother and I were walking to mass through the Golden 
 snow on a Christmas day, but my mother carried Wings 
 a live goose in her hand, holding it by the neck, 
 instead of her rosary, and that I went along by 
 her side, not walking, but turning somersaults 
 like a mountebank, my head never touching the 
 ground. When we got to the chape Woor, the old 
 priest met us, & said to my mother: 4 Why, dame 
 alive, your head is turned green ! Ah ! never mind, 
 I will go and say mass, but don't let little Mary 
 there go/ and he pointed to the goose, and went* 
 Then mass began, but in the midst of it the 
 priest said out loud: 'Oh! I forgot/ and turning 
 round to us began to wag his gray head and white 
 beard, throwing his head right back and sinking 
 his chin on his breast alternately; and when we 
 saw him do this, we presently began also to knock 
 our heads against the wall, keeping time with 
 him and with each other, till the priest said: 
 4 Peter! it's dragonxtime now/ whereat the roof 
 flew off, and a great yellow dragon came down 
 on the chapelxfloor with a flop, and danced about 
 clumsily, wriggling his fat tail, and saying to a 
 sort of tune, ' O the Devil, the Devil, the Devil, 
 O the Devil/ so I went up to him, and put my 
 hand on his breast, meaning to slay him, and so 
 awoke, and found myself standing up with my 
 hand on the breast of an armed knight; the door 
 lay flat on the ground, and under it lay Hector 
 our dog, whining and dying* 
 
 211 
 
Golden For eight hours I had been asleep; on awaking, 
 Wings the blood rushed up into my face, I heard my 
 mother's low mysterious song behind me, and 
 knew not what harm might happen to her and 
 me if that knight's coming made her cease in it; 
 so I struck him with my left hand where his face 
 was bare under his mail/coif, & getting my sword 
 in my right, drove its point under his hauberk, 
 so that it came out behind, & he fell, turned over 
 on his face, and died* Then, because my mother 
 still went on working and singing, I saidnoword, 
 but let him lie there, and put the door up again, 
 and found Hector dead* 
 
 I then sat down again and polished my sword 
 with a piece of leather after I had wiped the blood 
 from it; and in an hour my mother arose from 
 her work, & raising me from where I was sitting, 
 kissed my brow, saying*/ Well done, Lionel; you 
 have slain your greatest foe, and now the people 
 will know you for what you are before you die*** 
 Ah God! though not before I die/ 
 So I said: ' Who is he, mother? he seems to be 
 some lord ; am I a lord then ? ' 
 'A king, if the people will but know it/ she said* 
 Then she knelt down by the dead body, turned 
 it round again, so that it lay face uppermost as 
 before, then said : ' And so it has all come to this, 
 has it ? To think that you should run on my son's 
 swordxpoint at last, after all the wrong you have 
 done me and mine ! Now must I work carefully, 
 212 
 
lest when you are dead you should still do me Golden 
 
 harm, for that you are a king* Lionel !' Wings 
 
 4 Yea, mother/ 
 
 'Come here and see; this is what I have wrought 
 
 these many Peter's days by day, and often other 
 
 times by night/ 
 
 4 It is a surcoat, mother; for me?' 
 
 'Yea, but take a spade, and come into the wood/ 
 
 So we went, and my mother gazed about her for 
 
 a while as if she were looking for something, but 
 
 then suddenly went forward with her eyes on the 
 
 ground, and she said to me: 'Is it not strange 
 
 that I who know the very place I am going to 
 
 take you to as well as our own garden, should 
 
 have a sudden fear come over me that I should 
 
 not find it after all; though for these nineteen 
 
 years I have watched the trees change and change 
 
 all about it? Ah ! here, stop now/ 
 
 We stopped before a great oak; a beech tree was 
 
 behind us; she said: 'Dig, Lionel, hereabouts/ 
 
 So I dug, & for an hour found nothing but beech 
 
 roots, while my mother seemed as if she were 
 
 going mad, sometimes running about muttering 
 
 to herself, sometimes stooping into the hole and 
 
 howling, sometimes throwing herself on the grass 
 
 and twisting her hands together above her head; 
 
 she went once down the hill to a pool that had 
 
 filled an old gravel pit, and came back dripping 
 
 and with wild eyes; ' I am too hot/ she said, 'far 
 
 too hot this St reter's day/ 
 
Golden Clink just then from my spade against iron ; my 
 Wings mother screamed, and I dug with all my might 
 for another hour, and then beheld a chest of heavy 
 wood bound with iron, ready to be heaved out of 
 the hole* 'Now Lionel, weigh it out***hard for 
 your life ! ' 
 
 And with some trouble I got the chest out; she 
 gave me a key, I unlocked the chest, and took out 
 another wrapped in lead, which also I unlocked 
 with a silver key that my mother gave me, and 
 behold therein lay armour; mail for the whole 
 body, made of very small rings wrought most 
 wonderfully, for every ring was fashioned like a 
 , serpent, and though they were so small yet could 
 you see their scales and their eyes, and of some 
 even the forked tongue was on it, and lay on the 
 rivet, and the rings were gilded here & there into 
 patterns and flowers so that the gleam of it was 
 most glorious* And the mailxcoif was all gilded, 
 and had red and blue stones at the rivets; and the 
 tilting helm (inside which the mail lay when 
 I saw it first) v/as gilded also, and had flowers 
 pricked out on it; and the chain of it was silver, 
 and the crest was two gold wings* And there was 
 a shield of blue set with red stones, which had 
 two gold wings for a cognisance; and the hilt of 
 the sword was gold, with angels wrought in green 
 and blue all up it, & the eyes in their wings were 
 of pearls and red stones, and the sheath was of 
 silver with green flowers on it* 
 214 
 
Now when I saw this armour and understood Golden 
 that my mother would have me put it on, & ride Wings 
 out without fear, leaving her alone, I cast myself 
 down on the grass so that I might not see its 
 beauty (for it made me mad), and strove to think ; 
 but what thoughts soever came to me were only 
 of the things that would be, glory in the midst of 
 ladies, battle^joy among knights, honour from 
 all kings and princes and people : these things* 
 But my mother wept softly above me, till I arose 
 with a great shudder of delight and drew the 
 edges of the hauberk over my cheek, I liked so 
 to feel the rings slipping, slipping, till they fell 
 off altogether; then I said: 'O Lord God that 
 made the world, if I might only die in this arx 
 mourT Then my mother helped me to put it on, 
 and I felt strange and new in it, and yet I had 
 neither lance nor horse. 
 
 So when we reached the cottage again she said : 
 'See now, Lionel, you must take this knight's 
 horse and his lance, and ride away, or else the 
 people will come here to kill another king; and 
 when you are gone, you will never see me any 
 more in life/ 
 
 I wept thereat, but she said : ' Nay, but see here/ 
 And taking the dead knight's lance from among 
 the garden lilies, she rent from it the pennon 
 (which had a sword on a red ground for bearing), 
 and cast it carelessly on the ground, then she 
 bound about it a pennon with my bearing, gold 
 
 215 
 
Golden wings on a blue ground; she bid me bear the 
 Wings knight's body, all armed as he was, to put on him 
 his helm and lay him on the floor at her bed's 
 foot, also to break his sword and cast it on our 
 hearth/stone; all which things I did* 
 Afterwards she put the surcoat on me, and then 
 lying down in her gorgeous raiment on her bed, 
 she spread her arms out in the form of a cross, 
 shut her eyes, and said: 'Kiss me, Lionel, for I 
 am tired/ And after I had kissed her she died* 
 And I mounted my dead foe's horse and rode a/ 
 way; neither did I ever know what wrong that 
 was which he had done me, not while I was in 
 the body at least. And do not blame me for not 
 burying my mother; I left her there because, 
 though she did not say so to me, yet I knew the 
 thoughts of her heart, and that the thing she had 
 wished so earnestly for these years, and years, 
 and years, had been but to lie dead with him lyx 
 ing dead close to her* 
 
 So I rode all that night, for I could not stop be/ 
 cause of the thoughts that were in me ; and stop/ 
 ping at this place and that, in three days came to 
 the city* And there the King held his court with 
 great pomp* 
 
 And so I went to the palace, and asked to see the 
 King; whereupon they brought me into the great 
 hall where he was with all his knights, and my 
 heart swelled within me to think that I too was 
 a king* So I prayed him to make me a knight, 
 216 
 
and he spake graciously and asked me my name; Golden 
 so when I had told it him, and said that I was a Wings 
 king's son, he pondered, not knowing what to do, 
 for I could not tell him whose son I was* 
 Whereupon one of the knights came near me 
 and shaded his eyes with his hand as one does in 
 a bright sun, meaning to mock at me for my 
 shining armour, and he drew nearer and nearer 
 till his long stiffbeard just touched me, and then 
 I smote him on the face, and he fell on the floor. 
 So the King being in a rage roared out from the 
 door, ' Slay him ! ' but I put my shield before me 
 and drew my sword, & the women drew together 
 aside and whispered fearfully, and while some of 
 the knights took spears & stood about me, others 
 got their armour on* 
 
 And as we stood thus we heard a horn blow, and 
 then an armed knight came into the hall & drew 
 near to the King; and one of the maidens behind 
 me came and laid her hand on my shoulder; so 
 I turned and saw that she was very fair, and then 
 I was glad, but she whispered to me: ' Sir Squire, 
 for a love I have for your face and gold armour, I 
 will give you good counsel; go presently to the 
 King and say to him: ' In the name of Alys des 
 Roses and Sir Guy le Bon Amant I pray you 
 three boons/ Do this, and you will be alive and a 
 knight by toxmorrow, otherwise I think hardly 
 the one or the other/ 
 
 'The Lord reward you, damoyzel/ I said* Then 
 ff 217 
 
Golden I saw that the King had left talking with that 
 Wings knight and was just going to stand up and say 
 something out loud, so I went quickly and called 
 out with a loud voice: 'O King Gilbert of the 
 Rosexland, I, Lionel of the Golden Wings, pray 
 of youthree boons in the name of Alys des Roses 
 and Sir Guy le Bon Amant/ 
 Then the King gnashed his teeth, because he had 
 promised if ever his daughter Alys des Roses 
 came back safe again, he would on that day grant 
 any three boons to the first man who asked them, 
 even if he were his greatest foe. He said: 4 Well, 
 then, take them ; what are they ? ' t First, my life ; 
 then, that you should make me a knight; and 
 thirdly, that you shoxild take me into your serx 
 vice/ He said, 'I will do this, and moreover, I 
 forgive you freely if you will be my true man/ 
 Then we heard shouting arise through all the city 
 because they were bringing the Lady Alys from 
 the ship up to the palace, and the people came to 
 the windows, and the houses were hung with 
 cloths and banners of silk and gold, that swung 
 down right from the eaves to the ground ; likewise 
 the bells all rang : and within a while they entered 
 the palace, and the trumpets rang & men shout" 
 ed, so that my head whirled; and they entered 
 the hall, and the King went down from the dais 
 to meet them. Now a band of knights and of 
 damoyzels went before and behind, and in the 
 midst Sir Guy led the Lady Alys by the hand, 
 218 
 
and he was a most stately knight, strong and fair* Golden 
 And I indeed noted the first band of knights and Wings 
 damoyzels well, and wondered at the noble pres^ 
 ence of the knights, and was filled with joy when 
 I beheld the maids, because of their great beauty; 
 the second band I did not see, for when they 
 passed I was leaning back against the wall wishx 
 ing to die, with my hands before my face, 
 But when I could see, she was hanging about her 
 father's neck, weeping, and she never left him all 
 that night, but held his hand in feast and dance; 
 and even when I was made knight, while the 
 king with his right hand laid his sword over my 
 shoulder, she held his left hand and was close to 
 me* 
 
 And the next day they held a grand tourney, that 
 I might be proven ; and I had never fought with 
 knights before, yet I did not doubt* And Alys sat 
 under a green canopy, that she might give the 
 degree to the best knight, and by her sat the good 
 knight Sir Guy, in a long robe, for he did not 
 mean to joust that day; and indeed at first none 
 but young knights jousted, for they thought that 
 I should not do much* But I, looking up to the 
 green canopy, overthrew so many of them, that 
 the elder knights began to arm, and I grew most 
 joyful as I met them, and no man unhorsed me; 
 and always I broke my spear fairly, or else overx 
 threw my adversary* 
 
 Now that maiden who counselled me in the hall 
 
 219 
 
Golden told me afterwards that as I fought the Lady 
 Alys held fast to the rail before her, and leaned 
 forward and was most pale, never answering any 
 word that any one might say to her, till the Knight 
 Guy said to her in anger; ' Alys! what ails you? 
 you would have been glad enough to speak to me 
 when King Wadrayns carried you off shrieking, 
 or that other time when the chain went round 
 about you, and the faggots began to smoke in the 
 Brown City: do you not love me any longer? O 
 Alys, Alys ! just think a little, and do not break 
 your faith with me; God hates nothing so much 
 as this* Sweet, try to love me, even for your own 
 sake ! See, am I not kind to you ? ' 
 That maiden said that she turned round to him 
 wonderingly, as if she had not caught his mean^ 
 ing, and that just for one second, then stretched 
 out over the lists again* 
 
 Now till about this time I had made no cry as I 
 jousted* But there came against me a very tall 
 knight on a great horse, and when we met our 
 spears both shivered, and he howled with vexax 
 tion, for he wished to slay me, being the brother 
 of that knight I had struck down in the hall the 
 day before* 
 
 And they say that when Alys heard his howl 
 sounding faintly through the bars of his great 
 helm, she trembled; but I know not, for I was 
 stronger than that knight, and when we fought 
 with swords, I struck him right out of his saddle, 
 
 220 
 
and near slew him with that stroke* Whereupon Golden 
 I shouted 4 Alys' out loud, and she blushed red Wings 
 for pleasure, and Sir Guy took note of it, and rose 
 up in a rage and ran down and armed* 
 Then presently I saw a great knight come riding 
 in, with three black chevrons on a gold shield: 
 and so he began to ride at me, and at first we 
 only broke both our spears, but then he drew his 
 sword, and fought in quite another way to what 
 the other knights had, so that I saw at once that 
 I had no chance against him: nevertheless, for a 
 long time he availed nothing, though he woundx 
 ed me here and there; but at last he drove his 
 sword right through mine, through my shield and 
 my helm, and I fell, and lay like one dead* And 
 thereat the King cried out to cease, and the dex 
 gree was given to Sir Guy, because I had over^ 
 thrown forty knights, and he had overthrown me* 
 Then, they told me, I was carried out of the lists 
 and laid in a hostelry near the palace, and Guy 
 went up to the pavilion where Alys was and she 
 crowned him, both of them being very pale, for 
 she doubted if I were slain, and he knew that she 
 did not love him, thinking before that she did; 
 for he was good and true, and had saved her 
 life and honour, and she (poor maid!) wished to 
 please her father, and strove to think that all was 
 right* 
 
 But I was by no means slain, for the sword had 
 only cleft my helm, and when I came to myself 
 
 221 
 
Golden again I felt despair of all things, because I knew 
 Wings not that she loved me; for how should she,knowx 
 ing nothing of me ? Likewise dust had been cast 
 on my gold wings, and she saw it done* 
 Then I heard a great crying in the street, that 
 sounded strangely in the quiet night, so I sent to 
 ask what it might be: and there came presently 
 into my chamber a man in gilded armour; he was 
 an old man, and his hair and beard were gray, and 
 behind him came six men armed, who carried the 
 dead body of a young man between them, and 
 I said: 4 What is it? who is he?' Then the old 
 man, whose head was heavy for grief, said: 'O 
 sir! this is my son; for as we went yesterday 
 with our merchandise some twenty miles from 
 this fair town, we passed by a certain hold, and 
 therefrom came a knight and men^atxarms, who 
 when my son would have fought with them, overx 
 threw him and bound him, and me and all our 
 men they said they would slay if we did aught; 
 so then they cut out myson's eyes, and cut offhis 
 hands, and then said: ' The Knight of High Gard 
 takes these for tribute/ Therewithal they depart^ 
 ed, taking with them my son's eyes and his hands 
 on a platter; and when they were gone I would 
 have followed them, and slain some of them at 
 least, but my own people would not suffer me, 
 and for grief and pain my son's heart burst, and 
 he died, and behold I am here/ 
 Then I thought I could win glory, and I was much 
 222 
 
rejoiced thereat, and said to the old man: ' Would Golden 
 
 g>u love to be revenged ? ' Wings 
 
 ut he set his teeth, and pulled at the skirt of his 
 surcoat, as hardly for his passion he said, ' Yes/ 
 4 Then/ I said, ' I will go and try to slay this 
 knight, if you will show me the way to La Haute 
 Garde/ 
 
 Andhe,takingmy hand, saidt'O glorious knight, 
 let us go now!' And he did not ask who I was, 
 or whether I was a good knight, but began to go 
 down the stairs at once; so I put on my armour 
 and followed him* And we two set forth alone to 
 La Haute Garde, for no man else dared follow 
 us, & I rejoiced in thinking that while Guy was 
 sitting at the King's table feasting, I was ridx 
 ing out to slay the King's enemies; for it never 
 once seemed possible to me that I should be 
 worsted* 
 
 It was gettinglight a gain by then we came in sight 
 of High Gard; we wound up the hill on foot, for 
 it was very steep ; I blew at the gates a great blast 
 which was even as though the stag should blow 
 his own mort, or like the blast that Balen heard* 
 For in a very short while the gates opened, and a 
 great band of armed men, more than thirty I think, 
 and a knight on horseback among them who was 
 armed in red, stood before us; and on one side of 
 him was a serving man with a silver dish, on the 
 other, one with a butcher's cleaver, a knife, and 
 pincers* 
 
 223 
 
Golden So when the knight saw us he said, ' What, are 
 Wings you come to pay tribute in person, old man, and 
 is this another fair son ? Good sir, how is your 
 lady?' 
 
 So I said grimly, being in a rage : * I have a will to 
 slay you/ But I could scarce say so before the old 
 merchant rushed with a yell at the Red Knight, 
 who without moving slew his horse with an axe, 
 and then the menxatxarms speared the old man, 
 slaying him as one would an otter or a rat* 
 Afterwards they were going to set on me, but 
 the Red Knight held them back, saying: 4 Nay, I 
 am enough/ and we spurred our horses* As we 
 met, I felt just as if some one had thrown a dull 
 brown cloth over my eyes, and I felt the wretched 
 spear/point slip off his helm; then I felt a great 
 pain somewhere, that did not seem to be in my 
 body, but in the world, or the sky, or something 
 of that sort* And I know not how long that pain 
 seemed to last now, but I think years, though 
 really I grew well and sane again in a few weeks* 
 And when I woke, scarce knowing whether I was 
 in the world or heaven or hell, I heard some one 
 singing* 
 
 I tried to listen but could not, because I did not 
 know where I was, and was thinking of that; I 
 missed verse after verse of the song, this song, till 
 at last I saw I must be in the King's palace* 
 There was a window by my bed; I looked out at 
 it, and saw that I was high up ; down in the street 
 224 
 
the people were going to and fro, and there was Golden 
 a knot of folks gathered about a minstrel, who sat Wings 
 on the edge of a fountain, with his head laid sidex 
 ways on his shoulder, and nursing one leg on the 
 other ; he was singing only, having no instrument, 
 and he sang the song I had tried to listen to* I heard 
 some of it now: 
 
 ' He was fair and free, 
 At every tourney 
 He wan the degree, 
 
 Sir Guy the good knight* 
 
 He wan Alys the fair, 
 The King's own daughtere, 
 With all her gold hair, 
 
 That shone well bright* 
 
 He saved a good knight, 
 Who also was wight, 
 And had winges bright 
 On a blue shield* 
 
 And he slew the Knight 
 Of the High Gard in fight, 
 In red weed that was dight 
 In the open field/ 
 
 I fell back in my bed and wept, for I was weak 
 with my illness; to think of this! truly this man 
 was a perfect knight, and deserved to win Alys* 
 Ah well ! but was this the glory I was to have ? 
 And no one believed that I was a king's son! 
 SS 225 
 
Golden And so I passed days and nights, thinking of my 
 Wings dishonour and misery, and my utter loneliness; 
 no one cared for me ; verily, I think, if any one 
 had spoken to me lovingly, I should have fallen 
 on his neck and died, while I was so weak* 
 But I grew strong at last, and began to walk about, 
 and in the palace pleasaunce, one day, I met Sir 
 Guy walking by himself* So I told him how that 
 I thanked him with all my heart for my life, but 
 he said it was only what a good knight ought to 
 do ; for that hearing the mad enterprise I had ridx 
 den on, he had followed me swiftly with a few 
 knights, and so saved me* 
 
 He looked stately and grand as he spoke, yet I 
 did not love him, nay, rather hated him, though I 
 tried hard not to do so, for there was some air of 
 pitiless triumph and coldness of heart in him that 
 froze me; so scornfully, too, he said that about 
 'my mad enterprise/ as though I must be wrong 
 in everything I did* Yet afterwards, as I came to 
 know more, I pitied him instead of hating; but 
 at that time I thought his life was without a shax 
 dow, for I did not know that the Lady Alys loved 
 him not* 
 
 And now I turned from him, and walked slowly 
 up and down the garden^paths, not exactly thinkx 
 ing, but with some ghosts of former thoughts 
 
 Eassingthrough my mind*The day, too, was most 
 )vely, as it grew towards evening, and I had all 
 the joy of a man lately sick in the flowers and all 
 226 
 
things; if any bells at that time had begun to Golden 
 
 chime, I think I should have lain down on the Wings 
 
 grass and wept; but now there was but the noise 
 
 of the bees in the yellow musk, and that had not 
 
 music enough to bring me sorrow* 
 
 And as I walked I stooped and picked a great 
 
 orange lily, and held it in my hand, and lo ! down 
 
 the garden/walk, the same fair damoyzel that had 
 
 before this given me good counsel in the hall, 
 
 Thereat I was very glad, and walked to meet her 
 
 smiling, but she was very grave, and said: 'Fair 
 
 sir, the Lady Alys des Roses wishes to see you in 
 
 her chamber/ 
 
 I could not answer a word, but turned, and went 
 
 with her while she walked slowly beside me, 
 
 thinking deeply, and picking a rose to pieces as 
 
 she went; and I, too, thought much: what could 
 
 she want me for? surely but for one thing; and 
 
 But when we came to the lady's chamber, behold 
 beforethedoorstoodatall knight, fair and strong, 
 and in armour, save his head, who seemed to be 
 guarding the door, though not so as to seem so to 
 all men. He kissed the damoyzel eagerly, & then 
 she said to me :' This is Sir William de la Fosse, 
 my true knight/ So the knight took my hand and 
 seemed to have such joy of me, that all the blood 
 came up to my face for pure delight. 
 But then the damoyzel Blanche opened the door 
 and bade me go in while she abode still without; 
 
 227 
 
Golden so I entered, when I had put aside the heavy silk/ 
 
 Wings enhangingthat filled the doorway. And there sat 
 
 Aly s ; she arose when she saw me, and stood pale, 
 
 and with her lips apart, and her hands hanging 
 
 loos'e by her side* 
 
 And then all doubt and sorrow went quite away 
 from me ; I did not even feel drunk with joy, but 
 rather felt that I could take it all in, lose no least 
 fragment of it ; then at once I felt that I was beaux 
 tiful and brave and true; I had no doubt as to 
 what I should do now, 
 
 I went up to her, and first kissed her on the fore/ 
 head, and then on the feet, and then drew her to 
 me, and with my arms round about her, and her 
 arms hangingloose, and her lips dropped, we held 
 our lips together so long that my eyes failed me, 
 and I could not see her, till I looked at her green 
 raiment* 
 
 And she had never spoken to me yet; she seemed 
 just then as if she were going to, for she lifted her 
 eyes to mine, and opened her mouth ; but she only 
 said, ' Dear Lionel/ and fell forward as though she 
 were faint; and again I held her, and kissed her 
 all over; and then she loosed her hair that it fell 
 to her feet, and when I clipped her next, she threw 
 it over me, that it fell all over my scarlet robes 
 like trickling of some golden well in Paradise* 
 Then, within a while, we called in the Lady 
 Blanche and Sir William de la Fosse, and while 
 they talked about what we should do, we sat to/ 
 228 
 
gether and kissed; and what they said I know Golden 
 not* Wings 
 
 But I remember that that night, quite late, Alys 
 and I rode out side by side from the good city in 
 the midst of a great band of knights and menxat^ 
 arms, and other bands drewto us as we went, and 
 in three days we reached Sir William's castle, 
 which was called La Garde des Chevaliers* And 
 straightway he caused toll the great bell, and to 
 hang out from the highest tower a great banner 
 of red and gold, cut into so many points that it 
 seemed as if it were tattered ; for this was the cusx 
 torn of his house when they wanted their vassals 
 together* 
 
 And Alys and I stood up in the tower by the great 
 bell as they tolled it; I remember now that I had 
 passed my hand underneath her hair, so that the 
 fingers of it folded over and just lay on her cheek; 
 she gazed down on the bell, and at every deafen^ 
 ing stroke she drew in her breath and opened her 
 eyes to a wide stare downwards* 
 But on the very day that we came, they arrayed 
 her in gold and flowers (and there were angels 
 and knights and ladies wrought on her gold raix 
 ment), and I waited for an hour in the chapel till 
 she came, listening to the swallows outside, and 
 gazing with parted lips at the pictures on the gold/ 
 en walls ; but when she came, I knelt down before 
 the altar, and she knelt down and kissed my lips; 
 and then the priest came in, and the singers and 
 
 229 
 
Golden the censer/boys; and that chapel was soon con/ 
 Wings fusedly full of golden raiment, and incense, and 
 ladies and singing; in the midst of which I wed/ 
 ded Alys* 
 
 And men came into Knights' Gard till we had 
 two thousand men in it, and great store of muni/ 
 tions of war and provisions* 
 But Alys and I lived happily together in the 
 painted hall and in the fair water/meadows, and as 
 yet no one came against us* And still her talk was 
 of deeds of arms, and she was never tired of let/ 
 tingthe serpent rings of my mail slip off her wrist 
 and long hand, and she would kiss my shield and 
 helm and the gold wings on my surcoat, my moth/ 
 er's work, and would talk of the ineffable joy that 
 would be when we had fought through all the 
 evil that was coming on us* Also she would take 
 my sword and lay it on her knees and talk to it, 
 telling it how much she loved me* 
 Yea in all things, O Lord God, Thou knowest 
 that my love was a very child, like thy angels* O 
 my wise soft'handed love ! endless passion ! end/ 
 less longing always satisfied! 
 Think you that the shouting curses of the trum/ 
 pet broke ofFour love, or in anyways lessened it? 
 No, most certainly; but from the time the siege 
 began, her cheeks grewthinner, and her passion/ 
 ate face seemed more and more a part of me; now 
 too, whenever I happened to see her between the 
 grim fighting she would do nothing but kiss me all 
 230 
 
the time, or wring my hands, or take my head on Golden 
 
 her breast, being so eagerly passionate that somex Wings 
 
 times a pang shot through me that she might die. 
 
 Till one day they made a breach in the wall, and 
 
 when I heard of it for the first time, I sickened, and 
 
 could not call on God; but Alys cut me a tress of 
 
 her yellowhairand tied it in my helm, and armed 
 
 me,and saying no word,led me down to the breach 
 
 by the hand, and then went back most ghastly 
 
 pale. 
 
 So there on the one side of the breach were the 
 
 spears of William de la Fosse and Lionel of the 
 
 Gold Wings, and on the other the spears of King 
 
 Gilbert and Sir Guy le Bon Amant, but the King 
 
 himself was not there; Sir Guy was* 
 
 Well, what would you have ? in this world never 
 
 yet could two thousand men stand against twenty 
 
 thousand; we were almost pushed back with their 
 
 spear/points, they were so close together : slay six 
 
 of them and the spears were as thick as ever; but 
 
 if two of our men fell there was straightway a 
 
 hole. Yet just at the end of this we drove them 
 
 back in one charge two yards beyond the breach, 
 
 and behold in the front rank, Sir Guy, utterly fearx 
 
 less, cool, and collected; nevertheless, with one 
 
 stroke I broke his helm, and he fell to the ground 
 
 before the two armies, even as I fell that day in 
 
 the lists; and we drove them twenty feet farther, 
 
 yet they saved Sir Guy* Well, again, what would 
 
 you have? They drove us back again, and they 
 
 231 
 
Golden drove us into our inner castlexwalls* And I was 
 Wings the last to go in, and just as I was entering, the 
 boldest and nearest of the enemy clutched at my 
 love's hair in my helm, shouting out quite loud: 
 4 Whore's hair for John the goldsmith!' 
 Atthehearingof which blasphemy the Lord gave 
 me such strength, that I turned and caught him 
 by the ribs with my left hand, and with my right, 
 by sheer strength, I tore off his helm and part of 
 his nose with it, and then swinging him round 
 about, dashed his brains out against the castlex 
 walls* Yet thereby was I nearly slain, for they surx 
 rounded me; only Sir William and the others 
 charged out and rescued me, but hardly* 
 May the Lord help all true men! In an hour 
 we were all fighting pell/mell on the walls of the 
 castle itself, & some were slain outright, and some 
 were wounded, and some yielded themselves and 
 received mercy; but I had scarce the heart to fight 
 any more, because I thought of Alys lying with 
 her face upon the floor and her agonised hands 
 outspread, trying to clutch something, trying to 
 hold to the cracks of the boarding* So when I had 
 seen William de la Fosse slain by many men, I 
 cast my shield and helm over the battlements, 
 and gazed about for a second, and lo! on one of 
 the flanking towers, my gold wings still floated by 
 the side of William's white lion, and in the other 
 one I knew my poor Love, whom they had left 
 quite alone, was lying* 
 232 
 
So then I turned into a dark passage and ran till Golden 
 I reached the tower stairs; up that too I sprang as Wings 
 though a ghost were after me, I did so long to kiss 
 her again before I died; to soothe her too, so that 
 she should not feel this day, when in the after/* 
 times she thought of it, as wholly miserable to hen 
 For I knew they would neither slay her nor treat 
 her cruelly, for in sooth all loved her; only they 
 would make her marry Sir Guy le Bon Amant, 
 In the topmost room I found her, alas ! alas ! lying 
 on the floor, as I said; I came to her and kissed 
 her head as she lay, then raised her up; and I took 
 all my armour off and broke my sword over my 
 knee* And then I led her to the window away from 
 the fighting, from whence we only saw the quiet 
 country, and kissed her lips till she wept and 
 looked no longer sad and wretched; then I said to 
 her: ' Now, O Love, we must part for a little ; it 
 is time for me to go and die/ 
 4 Why should you go away?' she said, 'they will 
 come here quick enough, no doubt, and I shall 
 have you longer with me if you stay; I do not turn 
 sick at the sight of blood/ 
 
 'O my poor love!' And I could not go because 
 of her praying face; surely God would grant any^ 
 thing to such a face as that! 
 'Oh!' she said, 'you will let me have you yet a 
 little longer, I see; also let me kiss your feet/ 
 She threw herself down and kissed them, and 
 then did not get up again at once, but lay there 
 hh 233 
 
Golden holding my feet* And while she lay there, behold 
 Wings a sudden tramping that she did not hear, and over 
 the green hangings the gleam of helmets that she 
 did not see, and then one pushed aside the hangx 
 ings with his spear, and there stood the armed 
 men* 'Will not somebody weep for my darling?' 
 She sprung up from my feet with a low bitter 
 moan, most terrible to hear, she kissed me once 
 on the lips, and then stood aside, with her dear 
 head thrown back, and holding her lovely loose 
 hair strained over her outspread arms, as though 
 she were wearied of all things that had been or 
 that might be* Then one thrust me through the 
 breast with a spear, and another with his sword, 
 which was three inches broad, gave me a stroke 
 across the thighs that bit to the bone; and as I fell 
 forward one cleft me to the teeth with his axe* 
 And then I heard my darling shriek* 
 
 234 
 
FRANK'S SEALED LETTER. 
 EVER since I can remember, even when I was 
 quite a child, people have always told me that I 
 had no perseverance, no strength of will; they 
 have always kept on saying to me, directly and 
 indirectly: ' Unstable as water, thou shalt not exx 
 eel'; and they have always been quite wrong in 
 this matter, for of all men I ever heard of I have 
 the strongest will for good and eviL I could soon 
 find out whether a thing were possible or not to 
 me; then if it were not I threw it away for ever, 
 never thought of it again; no regret, no longing 
 for that; it was past and over to me* But if it were 
 possible, and I made up my mind to do it, then 
 and there I began it, and in due time finished it, 
 turning neither to the right hand nor to the left 
 till it was done* 
 
 So I did with all things that I set my hand to; 
 love only, and the wild restless passions that went 
 with it, were too strong for me; and they bent my 
 strong will so that people think me now a weak 
 man, with no end to make for in the purposeless 
 wanderings of my life. Yes, my life is purposeless 
 now, I have failed, I know, but I know that I 
 have fought too* I know the weary struggle from 
 day to day, in which, with my loins girded and 
 my muscles all astrain, I have fought while years 
 and years have passed away* I know what they 
 do not, how that passion trembled in my grasp, 
 shook, staggered ; how I grew stronger & stronger, 
 
 235 
 
Frank's till as I stood at last quivering with collected 
 
 Sealed force, the lightof victory across my lips and brow, 
 
 Letter God's hand struck me, and I fell at once and with/ 
 
 out remedy, and am now a vanquished man, and 
 
 really without any object in life, not desiring 
 
 death any more than life, or life any more than 
 
 death ; a vanquished man, though no coward; for/ 
 
 lorn, hopeless, unloved, living now altogether in 
 
 the past* 
 
 I will tell you how I fell; and then I pray you all 
 to pity me, and if you can love me, and pray for 
 me that I may be forgiven* I said when I left her 
 that day that I would forget her, look upon her 
 as if she had never been; coming and going to 
 and from that house, indeed; seeing her often, 
 talking to her as to any other friendly and accom/ 
 plished lady, but seeing Mabel, my Mabel that 
 had been, no more* She was dead, and the twenty 
 years that I had lived with her, man and boy and 
 little child, were gone, dead too and forgotten ; 
 no shadow of them should rest upon my path, I 
 said* Meantime the world wanted help; I was 
 strong and willing, and would help it* I saw all 
 about me men without a leader lookin g and yearn/ 
 ing for one to come and help them* I would be 
 that leader, I said; there was no reason for me to 
 be bitter and misanthropical, for I could forget the 
 
 fast utterly, could be another man in short* w"hy, 
 never loved that woman therewith her heavy 
 sweeping black hair & dreamily passionate eyes; 
 236 
 
that was some one passed away long ago; who Frank's 
 knows when he lived? But I am the man who Sealed 
 knows, that feels all poetry and art, that can Letter 
 create, that can sympathise with every man and 
 woman that ever lived, even with that cold proud 
 woman there, without a heart, but with heavy 
 sweeping hair and great dreamily passionate eyes 
 which might cause a weak man to love hen 
 Yes, I said so when I left her, nay even before I 
 left her; for in my agonized pleading I had said 
 words that made her cold selfish blood run quick 
 enough to speak scornful things to me* 4 Mabel/ 
 I said; ' Mabel, think awhile before you turn 
 from me for ever! Am I not good enough for you? 
 Yet tell me, I pray you, for God's sake, what you 
 would have me do, what you would have me 
 make myself, and I will do that thing, make myx 
 self such, whatever it is* Think how long I have 
 worshipped you, looked on all the world through 
 your eyes ! I loved you as soon as I saw you, even 
 when I was a child, before I had reason almost; 
 and my love and my reason have grown together 
 till now* O Mabel, think of the things we have 
 talked of together, thought of together ! Will you 
 ever find another man who thinks the same as 
 you do in everything? Nay, but you must love 
 me ! Such letters you have written me too ! O 
 Mabel, I know God will never let love like mine 
 go unrequited ! You love me, I know, I am sure 
 of it; you are trying me only; let it be enough 
 
 237 
 
Frank's now, my own Mabel, the only one that loves me* 
 Sealed See, do I not love you enough ?' I fell there before 
 Letter her feet, I caught the hem of her garment, I buried 
 my face in its folds; madly I strove to convince 
 myself that she was but trying me, that she could 
 not speak for her deep love, that it was a dream 
 only. O how I tried to wake, to find myself, with 
 myheartbeating wildly and the black night round 
 me, lying on my bed, as often when a child I used 
 to wake from a dream of lions and robbers and 
 ugly deaths and the devil to find myself in the 
 dear room, though it was dark, my heart boundx 
 ing with the fear of pursuit and the joy of escape ! 
 But no dream breaks now; it is desperate, dex 
 sperate earnest* The dreams have closed round 
 me and become the dismallest reality, as I often 
 used to fear those other dreams might; the walls 
 of this fact are closed round about me now like 
 the sides of an iron chest hurrying on down some 
 swift river, with the black water above, to the 
 measureless rolling sea* I shall never any more 
 wake to anything but that* For listen to what she 
 said, you who are happy lovers* Can you believe 
 it? I can scarce do so myself* I, not looking up 
 from where I lay, felt her lips curl into a cruel 
 smile as she drew herself from my grasp, and 
 said: 'Listen, Hugh! I call you Hugh, by the 
 way, not because I am fond of you, but because 
 surnames never seemed to me to express anyx 
 thing; they are quite meaningless* Hugh, I never 
 
 238 
 
loved you, never shall; nay, something more: I Frank's 
 am not quite sure that I do not hate you for comx Sealed 
 ing to claim me as a right in this way, and appealx Letter 
 ing to God against me. Who gave you any right 
 to be lord over me and question my heart? W^hy, 
 for this long time I have seen that you would 
 claim me at last; and your love which I now cast 
 from me for ever and trample upon, so, so ,,,your 
 love, I say, has been a bitterly heavy burden to 
 me, dogging me up and down, everywhere. You 
 think my thoughts ? Yes, verily; you who think 
 yourself the teacher of such an one as I am have 
 few thoughts of your own to think. What do I 
 want better than you ? Why, I want a man who 
 is brave and beautiful; you are a coward and a 
 cripple* Am I trying you? No, Hugh, there is no 
 need for that; I think I know you well enough; 
 weak and irresolute, you will never do anything 
 great* I must marry a great man. 
 
 White honour shall be like a plaything to him, 
 Borne lightly, a pet falcon on his wrist; 
 One who can feel the very pulse o' the time, 
 Instant to act, to plunge into the strife, 
 And with a strong arm hold the rearing world/ 
 
 But before she had begun to quote my life had 
 changed. While I lay there in I know not what 
 agony, that which I have just said came suddenly 
 across me, I became calm all at once; I began to 
 
 239 
 
Frank's bend my passion beneath my strong will; the 
 Sealed fight I fought so bravely had begun* 
 Letter I rose up quietly before she began to quote; and 
 when she saw me standing there so calmly, ay, 
 and looking so brave too, though I was a cripple 
 and a coward, she quailed before me; her voice 
 fell even in the midst of her scornful speech.Then 
 I thought: So cool, and can quote pretty verses 
 at such a time ! O but my revenge is good & sure 
 too; it is almost as if I killed her, stabbed her to 
 the heart here in this room. Then my heart grew 
 quite obedient and my purpose began to work, 
 so that I could speak with no shadow of passion 
 in my words, and with no forced unnatural calm 
 either* I could seem, and for years and years did 
 seem to be no hard cold man of the world, no 
 mere calculating machine for gauging God's earth 
 by modern science, but a kindly genial man; 
 though so full of knowledge, yet having room for 
 love too and enthusiasm and faith. Ah, they who 
 saw me as such did not see the fight, did not see 
 that bitter passage in the room of the old house 
 at Riston, where the river widens* 
 I stood there silent for a very short time, then 
 raising my eyes to hers said: 'Well, Mabel, I shall 
 go up to London and see the publishers, and perx 
 haps stay there a day or two, so that I shall probx 
 ably be back again at Casley by Tuesday; and I 
 dare say I shall find time to walk over to Riston 
 on Wednesday or Thursday, to tell you what we 
 240 
 
have determined on* Goodbye/ She trembled Frank's 
 and turned pale as I gave her my hand, and said Sealed 
 goodbye in a forced tone that was in strong con^ Letter 
 trast to my naturalxseeming calmness. She was 
 frightened of me then already: good! 
 So I walked away from Riston to my own house 
 at Casley, which was about two miles from Risx 
 ton,and got ready to start for London; then,about 
 an hour after I had parted from her, set out again 
 across the fields to the railway that was five miles 
 from my house* It was on the afternoon of a love^ 
 ly spring day; I took a book with me, a volume 
 of poems just published, and my dead friend's 
 manuscript; for my purpose in going to London 
 was to see to its publication. Then looking at that 
 over which so many years of toil and agony of 
 striving had been spent, I thought of him who 
 wrote it ; thought how admirable he was, how 
 that glorious calm purpose of his shone through 
 all his restless energy* I thought too, as I had never 
 done before, of the many, many ways he had 
 helped me; and my eyes filled with tears as I re^ 
 membered remorsefully the slight return I had 
 given him for his affection, my forgetfulness of 
 him in the years when I was happy* I thought of 
 his quiet successful love, and of that sweet wife 
 of his, the poor widow that was now, who lived 
 at Florence watching the shadows come and go on 
 her husband's tomb, the rain that washed it, the 
 sun and moon that shone on it; then how he had 
 ii 241 
 
Frank's died at Florence, and of the short letter he had 
 Sealed written to me, or rather that had been written just 
 Letter before his death by his wife from his dictation, 
 and was stained with the many tears of the poor 
 heart-broken lady* Those farewell words, that 
 threw but a slight shadow over the happy days 
 when I loved Mabel, had more weight now both 
 for sorrow and consolation; for the thought that 
 that dead man cared for me surely did me good, 
 made me think more of the unseen world, less of 
 the terrible earth-world that seemed all going 
 wrong, & which the unseen was slowly righting, 
 I had the letter with me at that very time* I had 
 taken it out with the manuscript, and together 
 with that another, a sealed letter that came with 
 it, which, according to the dying man's wish, I 
 had never yet opened* I took out both the letters, 
 and turning aside from the path sat down under 
 a willow by the side of the river, a willow just 
 growing grey-green with the spring* And there 
 to the music of the west wind through the slim 
 boughs, to the very faint music of the river's flow, 
 I read the two letters, and first the one I had read 
 before : ' Dear friend, I am going the last journey, 
 and I wish to say farewell before I go* My wife's 
 tears fall fast as she writes, and I am sorry to go, 
 though I think not afraid to die* Two things I 
 want to say to you* The first and least has to do 
 with my writings; I do not wish them to perish : 
 you know I wrote thinking I might do someone 
 242 
 
good; will you see about this for me? Do you 
 know, Hugh, I never cared for any man so much 
 as for you; there was something which drew me 
 to you wonderfully* It used to trouble me some/* 
 times to think that you scarcely cared for me so 
 much, but only sometimes; for I saw that you 
 knew this and tried to love me more: it was not 
 your fault that you could not; God bless you for 
 the trying even ! When you see my wife be kind 
 to her; we have had happy talk about you often, 
 thinking what a great man you ought to be* Yet 
 one thing more* I send you with this a sealed en^ 
 closure* On the day that you are married to Ma/- 
 bel, or on the day that she dies still loving you, 
 burn this unopened; but, O friend, if such a misx 
 fortune happen to you as I scarce dare hint at even, 
 then open it and read it for the sake of Frank*' 
 Then I remembered sadly how when I read this 
 I was angry at first, even with the dead man, for 
 his suspicion; only when I thought of him dying 
 and how loving he was, my anger quickly sank 
 into regret for him, not deep anguish, but quiet 
 regret* Ah, what a long time it was since I loved 
 Mabel ! H ow I had conquered my raging passion! 
 Frank will surely applaud my resolution* Dear 
 heart, how wise he was in his loving simplicity! 
 I looked at the sealed letter; it also was directed 
 in his wife's handwriting* I broke the seal, and 
 saw Frank's writing there; it was written therex 
 fore some time before his death* How solemn the 
 
 243 
 
 Frank's 
 
 Sealed 
 
 Letter 
 
Frank's windwasthroughthewillowboughslhowsolemn 
 Sealed the faint sound of the swirls of the lowland river ! I 
 Letter read: 'O Hugh, Hugh,poor woundedheart! I saw 
 it all along, that she was not worthy of that heart 
 stored up with so much love* I do not ask for that 
 love, dear friend; I know you cannot give it me: 
 I was never jealous of her, and I know moreover 
 that your love for her will not be wasted* I think 
 for my part that there is One who gathers up all 
 such wandering love and keeps it for himself* 
 Think, Hugh, of those many weary hours on the 
 cross; in that way did they requite His love then, 
 and how do we requite it now? Should He not 
 then sympathise with all those whose love is not 
 returned? And Hugh, sweet friend, I pray you 
 for Christ's love never to forget the love you bore 
 her in the days when you thought her noble, the 
 noblest of all things ; never cast away the gift of 
 memory, never cast it away for your ease, never 
 even for the better serving of God : He will help 
 Himself, and does not want mere deeds ; you are 
 weak, and love cannot live without memory* O 
 Hugh, if you do as I pray you, this remembered 
 love will be a very bright crown to you up in 
 heaven; meantime may it not be that your love 
 for others will grow; that you will love all men 
 more, and me perhaps even much more? And I, 
 though I never see you again in the body till the 
 Day of Doom, will nevertheless be near you in 
 spirit, to comfortyou somewhat through the days 
 244 
 
of your toiling on earth* And now Frank prays Frank's 
 God to bless poor wounded Hugh/ Sealed 
 
 I ceased reading; a dull pain came about my forex Letter 
 head and eyes* What, must I be all alone in my 
 struggle with passion, not even Frankto helpme? 
 Dear fellow; to think how fond he was of me! 
 I am very sorry he cannot be with me in this fight; 
 for I must kill her utterly in my memory, and 
 I think if he knew all, how very noble I thought 
 her, how altogether base she really is, he would 
 be with me after all. Yet, Frank, though I do not 
 do this that you pray me to do, you will still be 
 my friend, will you not? You shall help me to 
 become more like you, if that is possible in any 
 degree* So I determined to forget her; and was I 
 not successful at first, ah, and for longtoo? Neverx 
 theless, alas, alas! Frank's memory faded with 
 her memory, and I did not feel his spirit by me 
 often, only sometimes; and those were my weak' 
 est times, when I was least fit to have him by me* 
 For then my purpose would give in somewhat, 
 and memory would come to me; not clear and 
 distinct, but only as a dull pain about my eyes and 
 forehead. But my strong will could banish that, 
 for I had much work to do trying to help my felx 
 lowmen,with all my heart as I thought* I threw 
 myself heart and soul into that work, and joy grew 
 up in my soul; and I was proud to think that she 
 had not exhausted the world for me* 
 Nor did I shrink once from the sight of her; but 
 
 245 
 
Frank's came often and saw her at her father's house at 
 Sealed Riston, that the broadening river flows by always; 
 Letter nay, I sat at her wedding, and saw her go up to 
 the altar with firm step, and heard her sayherpart 
 in the unfaltering music of her rich voice, wherein 
 was neither doubt nor love; & there I prayed that 
 thebravenoble/heartedsoldierherhusbandmight 
 be happy with her, feeling no jealousy of him, 
 pitying him rather, for I did not think that it was 
 in her nature to love any one but herself thorough/ 
 ly. Yet what a queen she looked on that marriage/ 
 day, her black hair crowning her so, her great deep 
 eyes looking so full of all slumbering passion as 
 of old, her full lips underneath, whence the music 
 came ! And as she walked there between the grey 
 walls of that Abbey where they were married, the 
 light fell on her through the jewel/like windows, 
 colouring strangely the white and gold of her gor/ 
 geous robes* She also seemed or wished to seem 
 to have forgotten that spring day at Riston; at 
 least she spoke to me when she went away quite 
 kindly and very calmly: 'Goodbye, Hugh; we 
 hear of you already: you will beagreat man soon, 
 and a good man you always were and always will 
 be; and we shall think of you often, and always 
 with pleasure/ Yet I knew she hated me* O her 
 hollow heart! The dull pain came about my fore/ 
 head and eyes; somehow I could not keep up the 
 farce justthen. I spoke bitterly, a smilethat I know 
 now I should not have smiled curling my lip : 
 246 
 
'Well done, Mabel ! it is a nicely composed part/ Frank's 
 ing speech to an old friend, but you were always Sealed 
 good at that kind of thing* Forget you ? No ! you Letter 
 are too handsome for that; and if I were a painter 
 or sculptor I would paint you or carve you from 
 memory* As it is, I never forget beautiful faces* 
 Goodbye/ And I turned away from her a little 
 without giving my hand* She grew pale at first, 
 then flushed bright crimson like a stormy sky, and 
 turned from me with a scornful devil's/glance* 
 She was gone, and a sharp pang of memory shot 
 through me for a single instant, a warning of my 
 fall which was to be* For a single instant I saw her 
 sitting there as of old in the garden hard by the 
 river under the goldxdropping laburnums, heard 
 her for an instant singing wildly in her magnifix 
 cent voice as of old : 
 
 4 Wearily, drearily, 
 Half the day long, 
 Flap the great banners 
 High over the stone; 
 Strangely and eerily 
 Sounds the wind's song 
 Bending the banner/poles* 
 
 While all alone, 
 
 Watching the loophole's spark, 
 
 Lie I with life all dark, 
 
 Feet tethered, hands fettered 
 
 Fast to the stone, 
 
 247 
 
Frank's The grim walls, square lettered 
 Sealed With prisoned men's groan* 
 
 Still strain the bannerxpoles 
 Through the wind's song, 
 Westward the banner rolls 
 Over my wrong / 
 
 But it was gone directly, that pang; everything, 
 face, voice, and all : like the topmost twigs of some 
 great treexlimb, that as it rolls round and round, 
 griding the gravel and mud at the bottom of a 
 flooded river, shows doubtfully for a second, flash.* 
 ing wet in the February sunlight, then sinking 
 straightway goes rolling on toward the sea in the 
 swift steady flow of the flooded river; yet it apx 
 pears again often, till it is washed ashore at last, 
 who knows whereorwhen?Butformethesepangs 
 of memory did not come often; nay, they came 
 less and less frequently for long, till at last in full 
 triumph, as I thought it, I fell* 
 That mar riage/day was more than two years after 
 the day in April mat I have told you of, when I 
 read the sealed letter; then for three years after her 
 marriage I went on working, famous now, with 
 many who almost worshipped me for the words 
 I had said, the many things I had taught them* 
 And I in return verily loved these earnestly; yet 
 round about me clung some shadow that was not 
 the mere dulled memory of what had been, and it 
 deepened sometimes in my drearier moods into 
 248 
 
fearful doubts that these last five years of my life Frank's 
 had been after all a mistake, a miserable failure* Sealed 
 Yet still I had too much to do to go on doubting Letter 
 for long, so these shadowy doubts had to hold back 
 till (though I knew it not) a whole army of them 
 was marching upon me in my fancied security. 
 Well, it was springtime, just about five years from 
 that day* I was living in London, and for the last 
 few months had been working very hard indeed, 
 writing and reading all day long and every day, 
 often all night long also; and in those nights the 
 hours wouldpass so quickly that the time between 
 nightfall and dawn scarcely seemed ten minutes 
 long* So I worked; worked so hard that one day, 
 one morning early, when I saw through my win/ 
 dow on waking about six o'clock how blue the 
 sky was even above the London roofs, and rex 
 membered how in the fields all about it was the 
 cowslip time of the year, I said to myself: 'No 
 work to-day : I will make holiday for once in the 
 sweet springtime. I will take a book with some 
 tale in it, go into the country, and read it there, 
 not striving particularly to remember it, but enx 
 joying myself only/ And as I said this my heart 
 beat with joy like a boy's at the thought of holi' 
 day* So I got up ; and as I was dressing I took up 
 a volume of Shakespeare, and opened it at Troilus 
 and Cressida, and read a line or two just at the 
 place where the parting comes; it almost brought 
 the tears to my eyes* ' How soft-hearted I am this 
 kk 249 
 
Frank's morning !' I said; 'Yet I will take this and read 
 Sealed it: it is quite a long time since I read any Shakex 
 Letter speare, and I think years and years since I have 
 read Troilus and Cressida/ Yes, I was softhearted 
 that morning; and when I looked in the glass and 
 saw my puny deformed figure there, and my salx 
 low thin face eaten into many furrows by those 
 five years, furrows that gave a strange grotesque 
 piteousness to the ugly features, I smiled at first, 
 then almost wept for self-pity* The tears were in 
 my eyes again, but I thought : ' I will not spoil my 
 holiday/ and so forbore* Then I went out into the 
 streets, with a certain kind of lightxheartedness, 
 which I knew might turn at any moment into very 
 deep sadness* The bells of a church that I passed 
 in my way Essexxward were ringing, and their 
 music struck upon my heart so that I walked the 
 faster to get beyond their sound* I was in the counx 
 try soon; people called it an ugly country, I knew, 
 that spreading of the broad marsh lands round 
 the river Lea: but I was so weary with my hard 
 work that it seemed very lovely to me then; indeed 
 I think I should not have despised it at anytime; 
 I was always a lover of the sad lowland country* 
 I walked on, my mind keeping up a strange balx 
 ance between joy and sadness for some time, till 
 gradually all the beauty of things seemed to be 
 stealing into my heart and making me very soft 
 and womanish; so that at last, when I was now 
 quite a long way off from the river Lea and walk' 
 250 
 
ing close by the side of another little river, a mere Frank s 
 brook, all my heart was filled with sadness, and Sealed 
 joy had no place there at alL All the songs of birds Letter 
 ringingthroughthehedgesandaboutthe willows, 
 all the sweet colours of the sky, and of the clouds 
 that floated in the blue of it, of the tender fresh 
 grass and the sweet young shoots of flowering 
 things, were very pensive to me; pleasantly so at 
 first perhaps ; but soon they were lying heavy on 
 me with all the rest of things created, for within 
 my heart rose memory green and fresh as the 
 young spring leaves* Ah ! such thoughts of the old 
 times came about me thronging that they almost 
 made me faint* I tried hard to shake them off; I 
 noticed every turn of the banks of the little brook, 
 every ripple of its waters over the brown stones, 
 every line of the broadxleaved waterxflowers* I 
 went down towards the brook, and stooping down 
 gathered a knot of lush marsh/marigolds; then 
 kneeling on both knees, bent over the water with 
 my arm stretched down to it, till both my hand 
 and the yellow flowers were making the swiftx 
 running little stream bubble about them* And 
 even as I did so, still stronger and stronger came 
 the memories, till they came quite clear at last, 
 those shapes and words of the past days* I rose 
 from the water in haste, and getting ontotheroad 
 again walked along tremblingly, my head bent 
 towards the earth, my wet hand and flowers 
 marking the dust of it as I went* 
 
 251 
 
Frank's Ah, what was it all, that picture of the old past 
 Sealed days ? I see a little girl sitting on the grass beneath 
 Letter the limes in the hot summertide, with eyes fixed 
 on the farxaway blue hills, and seeing who knows 
 what shapes there; for the boy by her sideisreadx 
 ing to her wondrous stories of knight and lady 
 and fairy thing that lived in the ancient days* His 
 voice trembles as he reads : 'And so Sir Isumbras, 
 when he had slain the giant, cut off his head, and 
 came to the town where the Lady Alicia lived, 
 bringing with him that grim thing the giant's 
 head; and the people pressed all about him at the 
 gateandbroughthinito the king; andallthecourt 
 was there, and the whole palace blazed with gold 
 and jewels* So there among the ladies was the 
 Lady Alicia, clothed in black,because she thought 
 that through her evil pride she had caused the 
 death of the good knight and true who loved her* 
 And when she saw Sir Isumbras with the head 
 of the giant, even before the king and all, she gave 
 a great cry, and ran before all, and threw her arms 
 round about him/ 'Go on, Hugh/ says the little 
 girl, still looking into the blue distance; 'why do 
 you stop ?' ' I was*** I was looking at the picture, 
 Mabel/ says the boy* ' O, is there a picture of that? 
 Let's see it!' and her eyes turn towards him at 
 last; what a very beautiful child she is ! ' Not exx 
 actly of that/ says Hugh, blushing as their eyes 
 meet, and when she looks away for a second draw/ 
 ing his hand across his eyes, for he is soft-hearted; 
 252 
 
'not exactly of that, but afterwards, where she Frank's 
 
 crowns him at the tournament; here it is/ 'O,that Sealed 
 
 is pretty though ! Hugh, I say; Hugh!' 'Yes/ Letter 
 
 says Hugh. ' Go and get me some of the forget^ 
 
 menot down by the brook there, and some of the 
 
 pretty white star^shaped flower; I'll crown you 
 
 too/ Off runs Hugh directly, carrying the book 
 
 with him/ Stop, don't lose the place, Hugh ; here, 
 
 give me the book!' Back he goes, then starts again 
 
 in a great hurry; the flowers are not easy to get, 
 
 but they are got somehow; for Hugh though de<> 
 
 formed is yet tolerably active, and for her. 
 
 So when the flowers come she weaves them into 
 
 a crown, blue flowers golden/hearted and white 
 
 ones starxshaped, with the green leaves between 
 
 them. Then she makes him kneel down, and look> 
 
 ing at the picture in the fairy storyxbook, places 
 
 him this way and that, with her smooth brows 
 
 knit into a puzzled frown* At last she says: 'It 
 
 won't do, somehow, I can't make it out* I say, 
 
 Hugh ! ' she blurts out at last ; ' I tell you what, it 
 
 won'tdo; you are too ugly/ 'Nevermind, Mabel/ 
 
 he says; 'shall I go on reading again?' 'Yes, you 
 
 may go on/ Then she sits down, and again her 
 
 eyes are fixed on the far-away blue hills; and Hugh 
 
 is by her reading again, only stumbling somex 
 
 times, seemingly not so much interested as he 
 
 was before* 'Poor Hugh!' I said out loud; for 
 
 strangely the thing was so strong that it had alx 
 
 most wrought its own cure, and I found myself 
 
 253 
 
Frank's looking at my old self and at her as at people in a 
 Sealed story: yetl was stunned as it were, and knew well 
 Letter that I was incapable of resistance against that 
 memory now* Yes, I knew well what was coming* 
 I had by this time left the brook, and gone through 
 a little village on the hill above and on the other 
 side of it; then turned to my right into the forest 
 that was all about, the quaint hornbeam forest* 
 There sitting down I took out the Troilus and 
 Cressida I had brought with me, and began to 
 read, saying to myself (though I did not believe 
 it) that I would cast those memories quite away 
 from me, be triumphantly victorious over them* 
 Yes, there under the hornbeams I read Troilus 
 and Cressida, the play with the two disappoint/ 
 ments in it, H ector dead, and Cressida unfaithful, 
 Troy and Troilus undone* And when I had fin/ 
 ished I thought no more of Troilus and Cressida, 
 nor of any one else in the wide world but Mabel* 
 'O Mabel!' I said, burying my face in the grass 
 as I had before long ago in her long robes; 'O 
 Mabel, could you not have loved me ? I would 
 have loved you more than any woman was ever 
 loved* Or if you could not love me, why did you 
 speak as you did on that day? I thought you so 
 much above me, Mabel, and yet I could not have 
 spoken so to any one* O Mabel, how will it be 
 between us when we are dead ? O Lord, help me, 
 help me! Is it coming over again?' For as I lay 
 there I saw again as clearly as years ago the room 
 254 
 
in the old house at Riston, at the noontide of the Frank's 
 warm sunny spring weather ; the black oak panel' Sealed 
 lingcarved so quaintly all round the room, wherex Letter 
 on, in the space of sunlight that pouring through 
 the window lit up the shadowed wall, danced the 
 shadows of the young limexleaves; the great bay 
 window with its shattered mullions round which 
 the creepers clung; the rustling of the hard magx 
 nolia leaves in the fresh blast of the west wind; 
 the garden with its clusters of joyous golden daffb' 
 dils under the acaciaxtrees, seen through the open 
 window ; and beyond that, rolling and flashing in 
 the sun between its longlines of willows and pop/ 
 lars, the mighty lowland river going to the sea. 
 And she sat there by the fire-place, where there 
 was no fire burning now* She sat by the cold hearth 
 with her back to the window, her long hands laid 
 on her knees, bending forward a little, as if she 
 were striving to look through and through somex 
 thing that was far ofEThere she sat, withher heavy 
 rollingpurple hair like a queen's crown above her 
 white temples, with her great slumbrouslyxpasx 
 sionate eyes, and her full lips underneath, whence 
 the music came. Except that the wind moved a 
 little some of the folds of her dress she was motion/ 
 less and quiet as an old E gyptian statue, sitting out 
 its many thousand years of utter rest that it may 
 the better ponder on its own greatness. More life/- 
 less far she looked than any one of the grey saints 
 that hang through rain and wind and sunshine in 
 
 255 
 
Frank's the porches of the abbey which looks down on 
 
 Sealed the low river waves* 
 
 Letter And there was one watched her from near the 
 door; a man with long arms, crooked shoulders, 
 and pale ugly^ featured face looking out from long 
 lank black hair* Yes, his face is pale always, but 
 now it is much paler than usual, as pale almost 
 as the face of a dead man; you can almost hear 
 his heart beat as he stands there; the cold sweat 
 gathers on his brow. Presently he moves towards 
 the lady; he stands before her with one hand raised 
 and resting on the mantelshelf; you can see his 
 arm trembling as he does this* He stands so while 
 you might count twenty, she never lookingupthe 
 while. Then half choking he says : 'Mabel, I want 
 to speak to you if you please for a moment/ And 
 she looks round with a calm unconcerned look at 
 first, but presently a scornful smile begins to flickx 
 er about the corners of her mouth* Then that pale 
 man says : ' Ah, I have told you all the rest before ! ' 
 For he knew the meaning of the flickering smile* 
 ** And that was five years ago* And I shall never 
 forget it while I live; never forget those words 
 of hers; never forget a single line of her beautiful 
 cruel face as she stood there five years ago* All the 
 world may go by me now; I care not* I cannot 
 work any more* I think I must have had some 
 
 Purpose in coming here, but I forget what it was; 
 will go back to London and see if I can remem^ 
 ber when I get there* 
 256 
 
So that day under the hornbeam trees I fell from Frank's 
 
 my steady purpose of five years; I was vanquished Sealed 
 
 then once and for ever; there was no fighting for Letter 
 
 me any more. And have I ever forgotten it, that 
 
 day and the words she spoke? No, not for one 
 
 moment. I have lived three years since then of 
 
 bitter anguish; every moment of that time has 
 
 been utter pain and woe to me; that is what my 
 
 life has been these three years; and what death 
 
 may be like I cannot tell, I dare not even think 
 
 for fear* And I have fled from the world; no one 
 
 of all my worshippers knows what has become 
 
 of me, and the people with whom I live now call 
 
 me a man without a purpose, without a wilL Yes, 
 
 I wonder what death would be like* The Eure is 
 
 deep at Louviers, I know; deep, and runs very 
 
 swiftly towards the Seine past the cloth mills* * * 
 
 Louviers ? Louviers ? What am I saying ? Where 
 am I ? O Christ! I hold the sealed letter, Frank's 
 sealed letter, in my hand, the seal just broken* 
 Five years? Eight years? It was but two hours 
 ago that my head lay before her feet, yet I seem 
 to have lived those eight years* Then I have not 
 been famous, have not been forgotten; never sat 
 under the hornbeams by Chigwell; and she is 
 sitting there still perhaps, in that same oak room* 
 How strange it is! fearfully strange, yet true. For 
 here is Frank's letter, here is his manuscript, the 
 ink on it brown through the years of toil and long' 
 11 257 
 
Frank's ing. There close by my side the great river is go/ 
 
 Sealed ing to the sea, and the wind goes softly through 
 
 Letter the willow/boughs this sunny spring afternoon. 
 
 And now what shall I do? I know my will is 
 
 strong, though I failed so in that dream I have 
 
 awaked from. I know too 
 
 That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering 
 happier things. 
 
 Shall I wear this crown then while I live on earth, 
 or forget and be brave and strong ? Ah, it must 
 be a grand thing to be crowned; and if it cannot 
 be with gold and jewels, or better still with the 
 river flowers, then must it be with thorns. Shall 
 I wear this or cast it from me ? I hear the wind 
 going through the willow/boughs; it seems to 
 have a message for me : ' Good and true, faithful 
 and brave, loving always, and crowned with all 
 wisdom in the days gone by; he was all this and 
 more. Trust your friend, Hugh, your friend who 
 loved you so though you hardly knew it; wear 
 the crown of memory/ Yes, I will wear it; and, 
 
 friend, you who sent me this dream of good and 
 evil, help me I pray you, for I know how bitter it 
 will be. Yes, I will wear it, and then, though never 
 forgetting Mabel and the things that have been, 
 
 1 may be happy at some time or other. Yet I can/ 
 not see howthat can ever come to pass. O Mabel, 
 if you could only have loved me! Lord, keep my 
 memory green ! 
 
'MEN AND WOMEN/ BY ROBERT 
 BROWNING. 
 
 I AM not going to attempt a regular classification 
 of Robert Browning's 'Men and Women;' yet 
 the poems do fall naturally into some order, or 
 rather some of them go pretty much together; 
 and, as I have no great space, I will go through 
 those that do so fall together, saying little or no/ 
 thing about the others* 
 
 The three that strike me first are 'The Epistle 
 of Karshish/ ' Cleon/ and ' Bishop Blougram's 
 Apology/ They have all three to do with belief 
 and doubt, with the thoughts and fancies and 
 strange longings that circle round these; they are 
 dramatic too, not expressing, except quite inci/ 
 dentally, the poet's own thoughts. 'Cleon/ and 
 the ' Epistle of Karshish/ are especially dramatic, 
 and are very considerably alike: they both tell of 
 the desires and doubts of men out of Christianity, 
 and in the days when Christianity was the true 
 faith of a very few unknown men, not a mere de/ 
 cent form to all the nations* 
 Karshish is an Arab physician, a man of science; 
 Cleon is poet, painter, sculptor. The Arab is the 
 more genial of the two, less selfish, somewhat 
 deeper too, I think; Cleon, with his intense ap/ 
 preciation of beauty, even with his long life spent 
 in producing that beauty, is yet intensely selfish ; 
 he despises utterly the common herd; he would 
 bring about, if he could, a most dreary aristocracy 
 
 259 
 
Men and of intellect, where the commoners would be bound 
 Women hand and foot, mere slaves to the great men and 
 their great lordly minds, not loyal freemen, honx 
 curing the heroes; he plumes himself, too, on bex 
 ing no less great than his fathers, greater even 
 than they, saying: 
 
 'Marvel not* 
 
 We of these latter days, with greater mind 
 Than our forerunners, since more composite, 
 Look not so great (beside their simple way) 
 To a judge who only sees one way at once, 
 One mindxpoint, and no other at a time ; 
 Compares the small part of a man of us 
 ^X^ith some whole man of the heroic age, 
 Great in his way, not ours, nor meant for ours, 
 And ours is greater, had we skill to know/ 
 
 Saying wrongly, too, as I am sure, for it was little 
 more than mere restless vanity that made him 
 try to master so many things, instead of giving up 
 his mind to one, as the grand elders did* 
 Yes, he is selfish, so selfish that he can see little 
 joy in those powers of creation which hepossessed; 
 the king had said in his letter, that though he, a 
 mere king, would die utterly, yet it would not be 
 so with Cleon, for his pictures, poems, statues, 
 would live after him, he would livethrough them* 
 Cleon says the king stumbles at mere words; 
 that the reality is otherwise: 
 260 
 
4 What ? dost thou verily trip upon a word, Men and 
 
 Confound the accurate view of what joy is Women 
 
 (Caught somewhat clearer by my eyes than thine) 
 
 With feeling joy? confound the knowing how 
 
 And showing how to live (my faculty) 
 
 With actually living? Otherwise, 
 
 WTiere is the artist's vantage o'er the king? 
 
 I know the joy of kingship: well, thou art king!' 
 
 He says too, that this same appreciation of beauty, 
 of enjoyment, all the knowledge that he has, all 
 his desires, so much finer than those of other men, 
 only make the fear of death bitterer than it other^ 
 wise would be: 
 
 4 Every day my sense of joy 
 Grows more acute, my soul (intensified 
 In power and insight) more enlarged, more keen; 
 While every day my hairs fall more and more, 
 My hand shakes, and the heavy years increase; 
 The horror quickening still from year to year, 
 The consummation coming past escape 
 When I shall know most, and yet least enjoy/ 
 
 Till at last, in his agony, fierce words are wrung 
 from the calm proud man; he cannot help it; he 
 cries out: 
 
 ' It is so horrible, 
 
 I dare at times imagine to my need 
 Some future state revealed to us by Zeus, 
 Unlimited in capability 
 
 261 
 
Men and For joy, as this is in desire for joy, 
 Women To seek which, the joy^hunger forces us* 
 
 That, stung by straitness of our life, made strait 
 
 On purpose to make sweet the life at large, 
 
 Freed by the throbbing impulse we call death 
 
 We burst there as the worm into the fly, 
 
 Who, while a worm still, wants his wings* But no! 
 
 Zeus has not yet revealed it; and, alas ! 
 
 He must have done so, were it possible !' 
 
 And from this agony he comes down again to a 
 kind of careless despair, and ends by saying just 
 a little, contemptuously enough, of Paulus and 
 his new doctrines ; the cursed pride of knowledge 
 lowering him so, that he even seems to be jealous 
 that the king has sent presents and enquiries to 
 Paulus also, a barbarian, one circumcised; so that 
 about the doctrines of Paulus, he says : 
 
 ' And (as I gathered from a bystander) 
 
 Their doctrines could be held by no sane man/ 
 
 Poor Cleon ! he was not wont to accept things on 
 hearsay; yet now so has his pride lowered him; 
 and we must leave him and his longings for Kar^ 
 shish the Arab* 
 
 Karshish is, as I said, a better man than Cleon ; 
 a simpler man, one with great knowledge, always 
 thirsting after more, and brave in his pursuit of 
 it; yet, on the whole, I think, kindly, & not puffed 
 up with that knowledge* He writes from Jerusax 
 262 
 
lem to his old master, to tell him how he has seen Men and 
 
 Lazarus; yet he is half fearful that he will seem Women 
 
 ridiculous, unphilosophical, and does not like to 
 
 acknowledge at first, even to himself, till he grows 
 
 warmer from the longings that stir within him, 
 
 what impression has been made on him; and he 
 
 breaks off now and then to talk about his know 
 
 ledge; yet he comes back to this always at last, 
 
 for he cannot help it; & so he writes; very beautix 
 
 fully does he tell of the perfect faith of Lazarus, 
 
 of his love of God and man, nay, of beasts, nay, 
 
 of the very flowers; of his resignation and obedix 
 
 ence to God through everything; of his strange 
 
 clear secondxsight; yearningly does he dwell on 
 
 all this, excusing himself from ridicule now and 
 
 thenbysaying/yetthe man was mad/Heknows 
 
 how little all knowledge is, how it can never be 
 
 perfected through all the generations ; but he longs 
 
 to love perfectly; his God is different from Laz<- 
 
 arus's God; his idea of Him is so different that 
 
 he mentions with shuddering horror that which 
 
 Lazarus had told him, 'that he, Lazarus, who 
 
 stood there in the flesh, had seen God in the flesh 
 
 too:' in horror; yet if it only could be true, that 
 
 story told by the madman ! 
 
 4 The very God ! think, Abib ; dost thou think ? 
 So, the AllxGreat, were the Allx Loving too; 
 So, through the thunder comes a human voice 
 Saying, 'O heart I made, a heart beats here! 
 
 263 
 
Men and Face, my hands fashioned, see ft in myself. 
 
 Women Thou hast no power nor may'st conceive of mine, 
 But love I gave thee, with Myself to love, 
 And thou must love me who have died for thee ! ' 
 The madman saith He said so : it is strange/ 
 
 You see, too, he does not say, as Cleon did to his 
 dream of Heaven, 'it is not possible;' he only 
 says, 'it is strange/ 
 
 It is all gloriously told; here is something beside 
 our present question which I quotefor its beauty; 
 Karshish's first meeting with Lazarus: 
 
 4 1 met him thus : 
 
 I cross' d a ridge of short sharp broken hills, 
 Like an old lion's cheekxteeth* Out there came 
 A moon made like a face with certain spots 
 Multiform, manifold, and menacing: 
 Then a wind rose behind me* So we met 
 In this old sleepy town at unaware, 
 The man and I/ 
 
 Concerning 4 Bishop Blougram's Apology' I can 
 say little here, it embraces so many things ; the Bi* 
 shop's interlocutor/ Gigadibs, the literary man,' 
 comes in only as an objector, or little else; he is a 
 man without fixed faith; the bishop is one who 
 is trying to 'believe that he believes,' and is sue/- 
 ceeding, I think, pretty well : for my part I dislike 
 him thoroughly, yet he says many true things, as 
 Browning says in the Epilogue; 'he said true 
 things, but called them by wrong names/ He 
 264 
 
agrees too with Cleonconcerningthe unpleasant' Men and 
 ness of the possession of the creative power* Itisof Women 
 no use to him, he says ; he is more selfish even than 
 Cleon, and not nearly so interesting: he is toler' 
 ably well content with the present state of things 
 as regards himself, has no such very deep longings, 
 and is not so much troubled with doubts probably 
 as even he says he is* Browning says of him: 'For 
 Blougram, he believed say half he spoke/ 
 I will go on to the next band that seem to go to* 
 gether, those about art, namely ; they are ' Andrea 
 del Sarto/ 'Fra Lippo Lippi/ 'Old Pictures at 
 Florence/ 'A Toccata of Galuppi/ and ' Master 
 Hugues of Saxe^Gotha/ 
 
 'Andrea del Sarto' and 'Fra Lippo Lippi' are a 
 good deal alike, only the first has more about the 
 man, the second about the art he lives in* Wliat 
 a joy it is to have these men brought up before us, 
 made alive again, though they have passed away 
 from the earth solong ago; made alive, seeming inx 
 deed not as they might very likely have seemed to 
 us, the lesser men, had we lived in their times; but 
 rescued from the judgment of the world, 'which 
 charts us all in its broad blacks or whites/ and 
 shown to us as they really were* 
 Think of Andrea del Sarto sitting there in Florx 
 ence, looking over to Fiesole, trying to forget all 
 the shame, all the weariness, to forget the pain of 
 them at least, to live for one halfxhour in the prex 
 sent;yetsothatthepastandthefuturemay mingle 
 mm 265 
 
Men and with it very quietly, like the long weeds that the 
 Women stream sways with it. And Lucrezia is sitting by 
 him, Lucrezia, who he knows is not worthy of 
 his love; no, not even of his love, the breaker of 
 troth, the runaway; and yet he goes on loving 
 her nevertheless, she has wound her toils about 
 him so. Oh ! true story, told so often, in so many 
 ways ! And it shall all go into a picture for the 
 wearied man resting there : 
 
 'The whole seems to fall into a shape 
 As if I saw alike my work and self 
 And all that I was bound to be and do, 
 A twilight/piece/ 
 
 And how calmly he can talk of himself and his 
 art, his great success that was rather a bitter fail/ 
 uretohimnow: 
 
 4 1 do what many dream of all their lives ; 
 Dream? strive to do, and agonise to do, 
 And fail in doing, I could count twenty such 
 On twice your fingers, and not leave this town, 
 Who strive,,. you don't know how the others strive 
 To paint a little thing like that you smeared 
 Carelessly passing with your robes afloat, 
 Yet do much less, so much less, some one says, 
 (I know his name, no matter) so much less ! 
 Well, less is more, Lucrezia! I am judged. 
 There burns a truer light of God in them, 
 In their vexed, beating, stuffed and stopped/up brain, 
 266 
 
Heart, or whatever else, than goes on to prompt Men and 
 
 This lowpulsed forthright craftsman's hand of Women 
 
 mine* 
 
 Their works drop groundward, but themselves, I know, 
 
 Reach many a time a heaven that's shut to me, 
 
 Enter and take their place there sure enough, 
 
 Though they come back and cannot tell the world/ 
 
 Calmly he speaks of the wrong she had been to 
 him, of what she might have been; calmly of his 
 life in France, and of his sin even when he fled 
 from thence a very thief: and she, in spite of all, 
 is rather in a hurry to get away, is rather bored 
 by his talk, howsoever loving, for her 'cousin' 
 waits for her below: and so you can almost see 
 the flutter of her dress through the doorway, alx 
 most hear her feet down the stairs, and the greet' 
 ing of the bad woman without a heart with that 
 'cousin/ Almost? nay, quite! 
 Then for Fra Lippo Lippi* He, found in quesx 
 tionable haunts by the police, first awes them 
 somewhat by mention of his patron's name, Cosx 
 imo de Medici; then, being a man with wrongs 
 and one who must speak to somebody, he tells 
 the ofHcer the very simple story of his life, and 
 his grievance: 
 
 4 Rub all out! well, well, there's my life, in short, 
 And so the thing has gone on ever since* 
 I'm grown a man no doubt, I've broken bounds* 
 
 267 
 
Men and And yet the old schooling sticks ; the old grave eyes 
 Women Are peeping o'er my shoulder as I work, 
 
 The heads shake still : ' It's Art's decline, my son ! 
 You're not of the true painters, great and old : 
 Brother Angelico's the man, you'll find: 
 Brother Lorenzo stands his single peer* 
 Fag on at flesh, you'll never make the third/ 
 I'm not the third then : bless us, they must know ! 
 Don't you think they're the likeliest to know, 
 They, with their Latin ? so I swallow my rage, 
 Clench my teeth, suck my lips in tight, and paint 
 To please them/ 
 
 This too is an often/told tale, to be told many 
 times again, I fear, before the world is done with* 
 To this same officer he vindicates himself: every 
 thing almost is worth painting; surely it is best 
 (whatever may be good) to paint everything as 
 well as possible: 
 
 4 You be judge! 
 
 You speak no Latin more than I, belike; 
 However, you're my man, you've seen the world, 
 The beauty and the wonder and the power, 
 The shapes of things, their colours, lights and shades, 
 Changes, surprises . and God made it all ! 
 
 What's it all about? 
 
 To be pass'd o'er, despised ? or dwelt upon, 
 Wbnder'd at? oh, this last of course, you say* 
 But why not do as well as say; paint these 
 268 
 
Just as they are, careless what conies of ft? Men and 
 
 God's works*,* paint any one, and count it crime Women 
 
 To let a truth slip* Don't object, ' His works 
 
 Are here already, nature is complete : 
 
 Suppose you reproduce her (which you can't) 
 
 There's no advantage! you must beat her, then !' 
 
 For, don't you mark, we're made so that we love 
 
 First when we see them painted, things we have passed 
 
 Perhaps a hundred times nor cared to see; 
 
 And so they are better, painted; better to us, 
 
 ^J7 hich is the same thing* Art was given for that* 
 
 God uses us to help each other so, 
 
 Lending our minds out/ 
 
 It is very grand, this intense love of art; and I 
 suppose that those who cannot paint, and who 
 therefore cannot feel quite the same herein, have 
 nevertheless sometimes had a sick longing for 
 the power to do so, without being able to give any 
 reason for it; such a longing as I think is felt for 
 nothing else under the sun, at least for no other 
 power* 
 
 And so we leave Fra Lippo Lippi, certainly not 
 feeling altogether disgusted with theman, in spite 
 of his sins ; you see, he had not a very good educa^ 
 tion, and yet is not so selfish as one might have 
 expected him to be either* 
 
 No less great than these two is ' Old Pictures at 
 Florence;' beautiful in the beginning, that gaz/- 
 ing on Florence from the garden in springtide; 
 
 269 
 
Men and beautiful and very true, that indignant vindicax 
 Women tion of the early mediaeval painters; that compari* 
 son of their imperfect painting with the perfect 
 sculpture of the Greeks, perfect, but not so good 
 as the other; for the other was higher in its aim, 
 higher in the thoughts that it called up in men's 
 minds; higher too, that in its humility it gave 
 more sympathy to poor struggling, falling men* 
 Here is a stanza or two of that vindication : 
 
 'Wherever a fresco peels and drops, 
 
 Wherever an outline weakens and wanes 
 Till the latest life in the painting stops, 
 
 Stands One whom each fainter pulse/tick pains! 
 One, wishful each scrap should clutch its brick, 
 
 Each tinge not wholly escape the plaster, 
 A lion who dies of an ass's kick, 
 
 The wronged great soul of an ancient Master* 
 
 For oh, this world and the wrong it does ! 
 
 They are safe in heaven with their backs to it, 
 The Michaels and Rafaels, you hum and buzz 
 
 Round the works of, you of the little wit! 
 Do their eyes contract to the earth's old scope, 
 
 Now that they see God face to face, 
 And have all attained to be poets, I hope ? 
 
 'Tis their holiday now, in any case* 
 
 Much they reck of your praise and you ! 
 
 But the wronged great souls, can they be quit 
 Of a world where all their work is to do?' 
 270 
 
These are the three that have most to do with Men and 
 
 artists and painting. Then come two concerning Women 
 
 music, 'A Toccata of Galuppi/ and ' Master 
 
 Hugues of SaxexGotha/ 
 
 There is not so much to say about the first of these, 
 
 it seems to have been written principally for the 
 
 music; yet I think Galuppi' s music itself could 
 
 not have beaten it, played though it was between 
 
 the sea and the palaces, it rings so gloriously 
 
 throughout; not one line in it falls from beginning 
 
 to end, from the first: 
 
 4 Oh, Galuppi, Baldassaro, this is very sad to find ! 
 I can hardly misconceive you; it would prove me 
 deaf and blind; 
 
 But although I give you credit, 'tis with such a 
 heavy mind!' 
 
 to the last: 
 
 4 Dust and ashes ! So you creak it, and I want the 
 heart to scold* 
 
 Dear dead women, with such hair, too: what's bex 
 come.of all the gold 
 
 Usedtohangandbrushtheirbosoms? I feel chilly 
 and grown old/ 
 
 Worthy to go with this for music is 4 Master 
 Hugues;' exquisite in melody, it is beautiful also 
 in its pictures,true in its meaning* As to its melody, 
 there is to me something perfectly wonderful in 
 the piling up of the words from verse to verse* 
 
 271 
 
Men and The thing fascinates me, though I cannot tell 
 Women where the wonder is; but it is there; the first stanza 
 is almost as good as any for this music : 
 
 'Hist, but a word, fair and soft! 
 
 Forth and be judged, Master Hugues ! 
 Answer the question Pve put you so oft: 
 
 Wliat do you mean by your mountainous fugues? 
 See, we're alone in the loft/ 
 
 Then these others go together in my mind; ' Bex 
 fore' & 'After/ 'Childe Roland to the dark tower 
 came/ 'The Patriot/ 'Alight Woman/ and perx 
 haps some others; but these will do* They are all 
 more concerned with action than thought, and 
 are wholly dramatical* Here is the first stanza 
 from 'The Patriot:' 
 
 4 It was roses, roses, all the way, 
 
 W^ith myrtle mixed in my path like mad* 
 
 The house^roofs seem'd to heave and sway, 
 The churchxspires flamed, such flags they had* 
 
 A year ago on this very day!' 
 
 The poem is very short, yet very attractive, somex 
 how; the man's life is shown wonderfully, though 
 the poem is so short; how he knew before, when 
 he liberated these people, that they would not be 
 faithful to him for long, yet nevertheless went 
 on hoping against hope* He is not vain, for he 
 knows he could not have done other than he did; 
 272 
 
yet he knows he has done well, and so comforts Men and 
 himself, thinking of the next world : Women 
 
 'Thus I entered Brescia, and thus I go! 
 
 In such triumphs people have dropped down dead* 
 4 Thou paid by the w orld * what dost thou owe 
 
 Me?' God might have questioned: but now instead, 
 'Tis God shall requite! I am safer so/ 
 
 Yet, to the reader, it is very sad to read this 'old 
 story;' and I think also it was bitter to him, in 
 spite of all* 
 
 Telling lies for truth's sake, acting unfaithfully 
 for faith's sake, are what is treated of in the 'Light 
 Woman;' it is told, slight sketch though it is, in 
 a masterly way; perhaps we shall hear something 
 moreaboutitsoon,judgingfromthelasttwo lines: 
 
 'And, Robert Browning, you writer of plays, 
 Here's a subject made to your hand!' 
 
 'Before' and 'After/ are rather parts of the same 
 poem, than separate poems* ' Before/ written in 
 a splendid fighting measure, is spoken by a byx 
 stander, just before a duel : listen, here ! 
 
 'Why, you would not bid men, sunk in such a slough, 
 Strike no arm out further, stick and stink as now, 
 Leaving right and wrong to settle the embroilment, 
 Heaven with snaky Hell, in torture and entoilment? 
 
 Which of them's the culprit, how must he conceive 
 God's the queen he caps to, laughing in his sleeve! 
 nn 273 
 
Men and 'Tis but decent to profess one's self beneath her* , 
 Women Still, one must not be too much in earnest either. 
 
 Better sin the whole sin, sure that God observes, 
 Then go live his life out ! life will try his nerves, 
 When the sky which noticed all, makes no disclosure, 
 And the earth keeps up her terrible composure* 
 
 Let him pace at pleasure, past the walls of rose, 
 Plucktheir fruits when grape/trees grazehimashe goes* 
 For he 'gins to guess the purpose of the garden, 
 With the sly mute thing beside there for a warden* 
 
 What's the leopard/dog/thing, constant to his side, 
 A leer and lie in every eye on its obsequious hide ? 
 When will come an end of all the mock obeisance, 
 And the price appear that pays for the misfeasance?' 
 
 Yes, truly so ! the one poisoning sin in a man's life, 
 never to leave him in the midst of his dearly / 
 bought pleasures; he has gone wrong once, and 
 the chance of his turningback is desperate indeed; 
 all his life is a lie now, with that terrible unre/ 
 pented sinlyingon him* Did ever any of youread 
 Hawthorne's 'ocarlet Letter?' Then for his ad/ 
 versary: 
 
 4 So much for the culprit ? Who's the martyred man ? 
 Let him bear one stroke more, for be sure he can* 
 He that strove thus evil's lump with good to leaven, 
 Let him give his blood at last and get his heaven/ 
 
 Yet with neither wronger nor wronged has it come 
 274 
 
to this yet; death may equalize it somewhat: so Men and 
 in 'After/ this has indeed happened. I quote it Women 
 entire without comment: 
 
 'Take the cloak from his face, and at first 
 
 Let the corpse do its worst* 
 How he lies in his rights of a man ! 
 
 Death has done all death can* 
 And absorbed in the new life he leads* 
 
 He recks not* he heeds 
 Nor his wrong nor my vengeance; both strike 
 
 On his senses alike* 
 And are lost in the solemn and strange 
 
 Surprise of the change* 
 Ha, what avails death to erase 
 
 His offence, my disgrace? 
 I would we were boys as of old 
 
 In the field, by the fold; 
 His outrage, God's patience, man's scorn 
 
 Were so easily borne* 
 I stand here now, he lies in his place; 
 
 Cover the face/ 
 
 I think these two among the most perfect short 
 
 Eoems that Robert Browning has written, as per/ 
 set in their way as 'Evelyn Hope' among the 
 love/poems* 4 Childe Roland/ how grand that is ! 
 Some reviewer thinks it an allegory, and rates 
 the poet for not having told us what happened to 
 Childe Roland inside the 'round, squat turret/ 
 Well, it may in some sort be an allegory, for in a 
 
 275 
 
Men and certain sense everything is so, or almost every/ 
 Women thing that is done on this earth. But that is not 
 its first meaning; neither, as some people think, 
 was it written for the sake of the fearful pictures 
 merely, or even principally; they, grand as they 
 are, the grandest things of the kind that I have 
 ever read, are yet only a means to an end ; for the 
 poet's real design was to show us a brave man 
 doing his duty, making his way on to his point 
 through all dreadful things* What do all these 
 horrors matter to him ? he must go on, they can/ 
 not stop him; he will be slain certainly, who 
 knows by what unheard/of death ; yet he can leave 
 all this in God's hands, and go forward, for it will 
 all come right at the end* And has not Robert 
 Browning shown us this well? Do you not feel 
 as you read, a strange sympathy for the lonely 
 knight, so very, very lonely, not allowed even the 
 fellowship of kindly memories ? 
 
 4 1 shut my eyes and turn'd them on my heart* 
 As a man calls for wine before he fights, 
 I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights 
 Ere fitly I could hope to play my part* 
 Think first, fight after wards*** the soldier's art: 
 One taste of the old times sets all to rights ! 
 
 Not it! I fancied Cuthbert's reddening face 
 Beneath its garniture of curly gold, 
 Dear fellow, till I almost felt him fold 
 
 An arm in mine to fix me to the place, 
 276 
 
That way he used, Alas ! one night's disgrace ! Men and 
 Out went my heart's new fire and left it cold* Women 
 
 Better this present than a past like that* 
 
 Back therefore to my darkening path again/ 
 
 Yet, for all this utter loneliness, for all these horx 
 rors, so subtly has the consummate poet wrought, 
 through the stately flow of the magnificent 
 rhythm,thatwedonotfeeldesponding,butrather 
 triumphant at the glorious end; an end so glorix 
 ous, that the former life, whatever it was, was 
 well worth living with that to crown it ; and itwas 
 well too for the poet to leave us there, so that we 
 see not the mere struggle of physical courage, or 
 the mere groans and tears of suffering humanity 
 under those things which are to be borne indeed, 
 but hardly ever very calmly, hardly ever very rex 
 signedly ; but nowChilde Roland passes straight 
 from our eyes to the place where the true and brave 
 live for ever ; and as far as we go, his life flows out 
 triumphantly with that blast he blew* 
 And was it not well to leave us with that snatch 
 of old song ringing through our ears like the very 
 hornxblast that echoed all about the windings of 
 that dismal valley of death ? 
 
 4 1 saw them and I knew them all; and yet 
 
 Dauntless the slugxhorn to my lips I set, 
 
 And blew* Childe Roland to the dark tower came/ 
 
 In my own heart I think I love this poem the best 
 
Men and of all in these volumes* And yet I scarcely know; 
 
 Women for this and all the others seem to me but a supx 
 plement to the lovexpoems, even as it is in all art, 
 in all life; love, I mean, of some sort; and that life 
 or art where this is not the case is but a wretched 
 mistake after all* 
 
 And in these lovexpoems of Robert Browning 
 there is one thing that struck me particularly; that 
 is their intense, unmixed love; love for the sake 
 of love, and if that is not obtained, disappoint^ 
 ment comes, falling/off, misery* I suppose the 
 same kind of thing is to be found in all very earns 
 est lovexpoetry, but I think more in him than in 
 almost anybody else* 'Any Wife to Any Husx 
 band/ ' The Last Ride Together/ read them, and 
 I think you will see what I mean* I cannot say it 
 clearly, it cannot be said so but in verse; love for 
 love's sake, the only true love, I must say* Pray 
 Christ some of us attain to it before we die! 
 Yet after all I am afraid I shall be able to say less 
 about these love/poems than the others* ' Evelyn 
 Hope' is quite perfect in its way; Tennyson himx 
 self has written nothing more beautiful; it is easy 
 to be understood, very simple, everybody must 
 like it;sofull of faith and quiet manly tenderness, 
 hopeful and brave; a very jewel set in the gold of 
 the poet's crown* I must quote a little : 
 
 4 1 claim you still, for my own love's sake ! 
 Delayed it may be for more lives yet, 
 
 278 
 
Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few : Men and 
 
 Much is to learn and much to forget Women 
 
 Ere the time be come for taking you* 
 
 But the time will come, at last it will, 
 
 When, Evelyn Hope, what meant, I shall say, 
 In the lower earth, in the years long still, 
 
 That body and soul so pure and gay? 
 Why your hair was amber, I shall divine, 
 
 And your mouth of your own geranium's red; 
 And what you would do with me, in fine, 
 
 In the new life come in the old one's stead* 
 
 I have lived, I shall say, so much since then, 
 
 Given up myself so many times, 
 Gained me the gains of various men, 
 
 Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes; 
 Yet one thing, one, in my soul's full scope, 
 
 Either I missed or itself missed me; 
 And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope ! 
 
 What is the issue? let us see ! 
 
 I loved you, Evelyn, all the while; 
 
 My heart seemed full as it could hold; 
 There was place and to spare for the frank young smile 
 
 And the red young mouth and the hair's young gold : 
 So, hush ! I will give you this leaf to keep ; 
 
 See, I shut it inside the sweet cold hand* 
 There, that is our secret ! go to sleep ; 
 
 You will wake, and remember, and understand/ 
 
 Do you not see them there, in the darkened room, 
 
Men and the wise, learned, world^worn man hanging over 
 
 Women the fair, dead girl, who 'perhaps had scarcely 
 
 heard his namer Comingcloseto 'Evelyn Hope' 
 
 is 'A Woman's Last Word/ and almost as beaux 
 
 tifulasthat: 
 
 ' Be a god and hold me 
 
 With a charm : 
 Be a man and fold me 
 
 W^ith thine arm ! 
 
 Teach me, only teach, Love ! 
 
 As I ought 
 I will speak thy speech, Love, 
 
 Think thy thought ; 
 
 4 Meet, if thou require it, 
 
 Both demands, 
 Laying flesh and spirit 
 
 In thy hands ! 
 
 That shall be toxmorrow 
 
 Not to/night: 
 I must bury sorrow 
 
 Out of sight* 
 
 Must a little weep, Love 
 
 Foolish me ! 
 And so fall asleep, Love, 
 
 Loved by thee/ 
 
 Is it not perfect in thought as in music ? and does 
 280 
 
it not illustrate what I said just now about the Men and 
 intense passion of these poems ? Women 
 
 So does this next one that I come to, ' By the 
 Fireside/ It is the history of a life of love, that 
 life which first began by the chapel there in Italy; 
 all things to this man, past, present, and to come, 
 are centred in that one fact: 
 
 4 1 am named and known by that hour's feat, 
 There took my station and degree* 
 So grew my own small life complete 
 As nature obtained her best of me, 
 One born to love you, sweet ! ' 
 
 It reminds me a good deal of Tennyson in parts, 
 of 'Maud' especially; but I suppose that is the 
 effect of its melody; it is all told in such sweet, 
 halfxmournful music, as though in compassion 
 to those who have not obtained this love, who 
 will not obtain it while they live on earth, though 
 they may in heaven* 
 
 Such love too is in it for the beautiful country 
 where the new life came to him : 
 
 4 Oh, woman/'country, wooed, not wed, 
 Loved all the more by earth's male^lands, 
 Laid to their hearts instead !' 
 
 Such pictures of the fair autumnxtide : 
 
 4 Oh, the sense of the yellow mountain flowers, 
 And the thorny balls, each three in one, 
 oo 281 
 
Men and The chestnuts throw on our path in showers, 
 Women For the drop of the woodland fruit's begun, 
 These early November hours/ 
 
 I like it one of the best of alL 
 'The Statue and the Bust' is a story, a sad story 
 too* Unlawful love that was never acted, but 
 thought only, thought through life ; yet were the 
 lovers none the less sinners, therefore; rather the 
 more in that they were cowards; for in thought 
 they indulged their love freely, and no fear of 
 God, no hate of wrong or love of right restrained 
 them, but only a certain cowardly irresolution* So 
 Robert Browning thinks : 
 
 4 So ! while these wait the trump of doom, 
 How do their spirits pass, I wonder, 
 Nights and days in the narrow room ? 
 
 Still, I suppose, they sit and ponder 
 What a gift life was, ages ago, 
 Six steps out of the chapel yonder. 
 
 Surely they see not God, I know, 
 
 Nor all that chivalry of His, 
 
 The soldierxsaints, who, row on row, 
 
 Burn upward each to his point of bliss : 
 
 Since the end of life being manifest, 
 
 He had cut his way thro' the world to this/ 
 
 I cannot tell the story, you must read it; it is one 
 of the best in the two volumes: the rhythm so 
 282 
 
wonderfully suited to the story, it draws you along Men and 
 
 through the days and years that the lovers passed Women 
 
 in delay, so quietly, swiftly, smoothly. 
 
 Here is another/ The Last Ride Together'; one 
 
 disappointed in his best hopes of love, looking 
 
 on the whole world struggling so, with calm hope^ 
 
 less eyes; so calm, though not altogether miserx 
 
 able. There is no need for him to struggle now, 
 
 he thinks; he has failed, that is enough; failed as 
 
 all others fail; he is not worse off than his fellows. 
 
 Meanwhile she is riding with him ; the present is 
 
 somewhat blissful; moreover he says : 
 
 4 Who knows what's fit for us ? Had fate 
 
 Proposed bliss here should sublimate 
 
 My being; had I signed the bond... 
 
 Still one must lead some life beyond, 
 
 Have a bliss to die with, dimxdescried. 
 
 This foot once planted on the goal, 
 
 This glorygarland round my soul, 
 
 Could I descry such ? Try and test ! 
 
 I sink back shuddering from the quest. 
 
 Earth being so good, would Heaven seem best? 
 
 Now, Heaven and she are beyond this ride/ 
 
 Then over him comes a strange feeling; he does 
 not know, it is all so blissful, so calm : ' She has 
 not spoke so long'; suppose it be that it was 
 Heaven now at this moment ! 
 
 4 What if we still ride on, we two, 
 With life for ever old yet new, 
 
 283 
 
Men and Changed not in kind but in degree, 
 Women The instant made eternity, 
 
 And Heaven just prove that I and she 
 
 Ride, ride together, for ever ride 1' 
 
 'In a Balcony ' is a strange poem, hard to make 
 out at first; and for my part, I am not at all sure 
 that I apprehend it rightly* It seems to me that 
 Constance and Norbert, being cowardly, did at 
 first intend merely to deceive the queen, then, that 
 Constance, moved by the poor woman's joy at 
 her supposed lover, and by her unexpected declare 
 ation of affection for herself, really intended to 
 sacrifice her love to the queen; but tnat Norbert' s 
 sick fear, his wild passionate terror, overcomes 
 her, and their love is declared, with who knows 
 what fate in store for them; but it is all intricate 
 and difficult, like human action* 
 4 Women and Roses ' I must mention, seeing that 
 some reviewer thinks it impossible to solve the 
 riddle of it. I will try, not thinkingit so very diffix 
 cult either. Some man thinking, dreaming of wox 
 men, they fall into three bands: those that have 
 been, those that are, those that will be; but with 
 none of these bands can he feel entire sympathy. 
 H e cannot enter into the heart of them ; their very 
 vividness of face and form draws his heart away 
 from their souls, and so they seem to him cold 
 and unloving. 
 
 It certainly does not sound very well as I have 
 284 ' 
 
put it; in fact it does not often help poems much Men and 
 to solve them, because there are in poems so many Women 
 exquisitely small and delicate turns of thought 
 running through their music and along with it, 
 that cannot be done into prose, any more than the 
 infinite variety of form and shadow and colour 
 in a great picture can be rendered by a coloured 
 woodcut; which (in the case of the poem) is caused, 
 I suppose, by its being concentrated thought* I 
 quote some of this poem ('Women and Roses'): 
 
 4 1 dream of a redxrose tree* 
 
 And which of its roses three 
 
 Is the dearest rose to me? 
 Round and round, like a dance of snow 
 In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go 
 Floating the women faded for ages, 
 Sculptured in stone, on the poet's pages* 
 Then follow the women fresh and gay, 
 Living and loving and loved to/day* 
 Last, in the rear, flee the multitude of maidens, 
 Beauties unborn* And all, to one cadence, 
 They circle their rose on my rose-tree/ 
 
 Very worthily are the lovexpoems crowned by 
 the final dedication to E*B*B* I quote the last 
 four lines : 
 
 'Oh their Rafael of the dear Madonnas, 
 Oh, their Dante of the dread Inferno, 
 ^X^irote one song*** and in my brain I sing it ; 
 Drew one angel*** borne, see, on my bosom!' 
 
 285 
 
Men and Pardon me, reader, that I have said little about 
 Women many of the best poems ; that I have said nothing 
 at all about several; nothing about the ecstasy of 
 prayer and love in 4 Saul ; ' nothing about the sacrix 
 fice of life, and its enjoyments, to knowledge in 
 the ' Grammarian's Funeral/ nothing about the 
 passionate 4 Lover's Quarrel/ about 'Mesmerx 
 ism/ 'Any Wife to Any Husband/ and many 
 others* My consolation is, that we shall have a 
 good deal more to say of Robert Browning in this 
 Magazine and then we can make amends* 
 Yet a few words, and I have done* For, as I wrote 
 this, many times angry indignant words came to 
 my lips, which stopped my writing till I could be 
 quieter* For I suppose, reader, that you seewhere* 
 abouts among the poets I place Robert Brownx 
 ing; high among the poets of all time, and I scarce 
 know whether first, or second, in our own: and, it 
 is a bitter thing to me to see the way in which he 
 has been received by almost everybody; many 
 having formed acertain theory of theirown about 
 him, from reading, I suppose, some of the least 
 finished poems among the ' Dramatic Lyrics/ 
 make all facts bend to this theory, after the fashion 
 of theoryxmongers : they think him, or say they 
 think him, a careless man, writing down anyhow 
 anything that comes into his head*Oh truly! 'The 
 Statueandthe Bust' shows this! or the soft solemn 
 flowofthatpoem, 'By the Fireside!' 'Paracelsus!': 
 that, with its wonderful rhythm, its tender sad/ 
 286 
 
ness, its noble thoughts, must have been very Men and 
 
 easy to write, surely ! Women 
 
 Then they say, too, that Browning is so obscure 
 
 as not to be understood by any one* Now, I know 
 
 well enough what they mean by obscure, and I 
 
 know also that they use the word wrongly ; meanx 
 
 ing difficult to understand fully at first reading, 
 
 or, say at second reading, even : yet, taken so, in 
 
 what a cloud of obscurity would 'Hamlet ' be! Do 
 
 they think this to be the case? they daren't say so 
 
 at all events, though I suspect some of them of 
 
 thinking so* Now, I don't say that Robert Brown* 
 
 ing is not sometimes really obscure* He would 
 
 be a perfect poet (of some calibre or other) if he 
 
 were not ; but I assert, fearlessly, that this obscurx 
 
 ity is seldom so prominent as to make his poems 
 
 hard to understand on this ground: while, as to 
 
 that which they call obscurity, it results from 
 
 depth of thought and greatness of subject on the 
 
 poet's part, and on his readers' part, from their 
 
 shallower brains and more bounded knowledge; 
 
 nay, often I fear from mere wanton ignorance and 
 
 idleness* So I believe that though this obscurity, 
 
 so called, would indeed be very objectionable if, 
 
 as some seem to think, poetry is merely adepartx 
 
 ment of Might literature;' yet, if it is rather one 
 
 of the very grandest of all Cjod's gifts to men, we 
 
 must not think it hard if we have sometimes to ex* 
 
 ercise thought over a great poem, nay, even somex 
 
 times the utmost straining of all our thoughts, an 
 
 287 
 
Men and agony almost equal to that of the poet who created 
 
 Women the poem* 
 
 However, this accusation against Browning of 
 carelessness, & consequent roughness in rhythm, 
 and obscurity in language and thought, has come 
 to be pretty generally believed; and people, as a 
 rule, do not read him; this evil spreading so, that 
 many, almost unconsciously, are kept from read/ 
 ing him, who, if they did read, would sympathise 
 with him thoroughly* But it was always so; it 
 was so with Tennyson when he first published 
 his poems; it was so last year with ' Maud'; it is 
 so with Ruskin; they petted him indeed at first, 
 his wonderful eloquence having some effect even 
 upon the critics; but as his circle grew larger and 
 larger, embracingmoreandmore truth, they more 
 and more fell off from him; his firm faith in right 
 they call arrogance and conceit now; his eager 
 fighting with falsehood and wrong they call mv 
 fairness* I wonder what they will say to his new 
 volume* 
 
 The story of the PrexRaphaelites, we all know 
 that; only here, thank Heaven! the public has 
 chosen to judge for itself somewhat, though to 
 this day their noblest pictures are the least popu/ 
 lar* 
 
 Yes, I wonder what the critics would have said 
 to ' Hamlet Prince of Denmark/ if it had been 
 first published by Messrs* Chapman and Hall 
 in the year 1855! 
 288 
 
THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE. 
 SHADOWS OF AMIENS. 
 NOT long ago I saw for the first time some of the 
 churches of North France; still more recently I 
 saw them for the second time; and remembering 
 the love I have for them and the longing that was 
 in me to see them during the time that came bex 
 tweenthe firstand second visit, I thought I should 
 like to tell people of some of those things I felt 
 when I was there, there among those mighty 
 tombs of the long/dead ages* And I thought that 
 even if I could say nothing else about these grand 
 churches I could at least tell men how much I 
 loved them; so that though they might laugh at 
 me for my foolish and confused words, they might 
 yet be moved to see what there was that made 
 me speak my love, though I could give no reason 
 for it. 
 
 For I will say here that I think those same churches 
 of North France the grandest, the most beautiful, 
 the kindest and most loving of all the buildings 
 that the earth has ever borne; and thinking of 
 their passedxaway builders I can see through them 
 very faintly, dimly, some little of the mediaeval 
 times, else dead and gone from me forever; voicex 
 less forever* And those same builders, still surely 
 living, stillrealmen and capable of receivinglove, 
 I love no less than the great men, poets & painters 
 and such like, who are on earth now; no less than 
 my breathing friends whom I can see looking 
 pp 289 
 
The kindly on me now. Ah, do I not love them with 
 
 Churches just cause who certainly loved me, thinking of me 
 of North sometimes between the strokes of their chisels? 
 France And for this love of all men that they had, and 
 moreover for the great love of God which they 
 certainly had too; for this, and for this work of 
 theirs, the upraising of the great cathedral front, 
 with its beating heart of the thoughts of men 
 wrought into the leaves and flowers of the fair 
 earth, wrought into the faces of good men and 
 true, fighters against the wrong, of angels who up/ 
 held them, of God who rules all things ; wrought 
 through the lapse of years and years and years by 
 the dint of chisel and stroke of hammer into stories 
 of life and death, the second life, the second death, 
 stories of God's dealing in love and wrath with 
 the nations of the earth, stories of the faith and 
 love of man that dies not: for their love, and the 
 deeds through which it worked, I think they will 
 not lose their reward* 
 
 So I will say what I can of their works ; and I have 
 to speak of Amiens first, and how it seemed to me 
 in the hot August weather* I know how wonder^ 
 ful it would look, if you were to mount one of the 
 steeples of the town, or were even to mount up to 
 the roof of one of the houses westward of the 
 cathedral* For it rises up from the ground, grey 
 from the paving of the street, the cavernous 
 porches of the west front opening wide, and marx 
 vellous with the shadows of the carving you can 
 290 
 
only guess at: and above stand the kings, and The 
 
 above that you would see the twined mystery of Churches 
 
 the great flamboyant rose window with its thoux of North 
 
 sand openings, & the shadows of the flowerxwork France 
 
 carved round it; then the grey towers and gable, 
 
 grey against the blue of the August sky; and bex 
 
 hind them all, rising high into the quivering air, 
 
 the tall spire over the crossing. But from the hot 
 
 Place Royale here with its stunted pollard acacias, 
 
 and statue of some one, I know not whom, but 
 
 some citizen of Amiens I suppose, you can see nox 
 
 thing but the graceful spire. It is or wood covered 
 
 over with lead, and was built quite at the end of the 
 
 flamboyant times. Once it was gilt all over, and 
 
 used to shine out there, getting duller and duller 
 
 as the bad years grew worse and worse; but the 
 
 fold is all gone now: when it finally disappeared 
 know not, but perhaps it was in 1771, when the 
 chapter got them the inside of their cathedral 
 whitewashed from vaulting to pavement. The 
 spire has two octagonal stages above the roof, 
 formed of trefoiled arches and slim buttresses capx 
 ped by leaden figures : from these stages the slopx 
 ing spire springs, with crocketed ribs at the angles, 
 the lead being arranged in a quaint herringxbone 
 pattern. At the base of the spire too is a crown 
 of openxwork and figures, making a third stage : 
 finally, near the top of the spire the crockets swell 
 till you come to the rose that holds the great 
 spire^cross of meta Work; such metal/workasthe 
 
 291 
 
The French alone knew howto make* It is all beautix 
 
 Churches ful, though so late* 
 
 of North From one of the streets leading out of the Place 
 
 France Royaleyoucansee the cathedral; and as you come 
 nearer you see that it is clear enough of houses or 
 such like things. The great apse rises over you 
 with its belt of eastern chapels ; first the long slim 
 windows of these chapels, which are each of them 
 little apses, the Lady Chapel projecting a good 
 way beyond the rest; and then, runningunder the 
 cornice of the chapels and outer aisles all round 
 the church, a cornice of great noble leaves; then 
 the parapets in changing flamboyant patterns; 
 then the conical roofs of the chapels hiding the 
 exterior tracery of the triforium; then the great 
 clerestory windows, very long, of four lights, and 
 stilted, the tracery beginning a long way below 
 the springing of their arches* And the buttresses 
 are so thick, and their arms spread so here, that 
 each of the clerestory windows looks down its 
 own space between them as if between walls* 
 Above the windows rise their canopies running 
 through the parapet ;& above all the great mounx 
 tainousroof: and all belowitand around thewinx 
 dows and walls of the choir and apse stands the 
 mighty army of the buttresses, holding up the 
 weight of the stone roof within with their strong 
 arms for ever* 
 
 We go round under their shadows past the sacrisx 
 ties, pastthe southern transept, only glancing just 
 292 
 
now at the sculpture there, past the chapels of the The 
 
 nave, and enter the church by the small door hard Churches 
 
 by the west front, with that figure of huge Saint of North 
 
 Christopher quite close over our heads; thereby France 
 
 we enter the church, as I said, and are in its westx 
 
 ern bay* I think I felt inclined to shout when I 
 
 first entered Amiens Cathedral* It is so free and 
 
 vast and noble that I did not feel in the least awex 
 
 struck or humbled by its size and grandeur; I have 
 
 not often felt thus when looking on architecture, 
 
 but have felt, at all events at first, intense exultax 
 
 tion at the beauty of it. That, and a certain kind 
 
 of satisfaction in looking on the geometrical tracx 
 
 ery of the windows, on the sweep of the huge 
 
 arches, were I think my first feelings in Amiens 
 
 Cathedral, 
 
 We go down the nave, glancing the while at the 
 
 traceried windows of the chapels, which are later 
 
 than the windows above them* We come to the 
 
 transepts, and from either side the stained glass 
 
 in their huge windows burns out on us ; and then 
 
 first we begin to appreciate somewhat the scale 
 
 of the church by looking up along the ropes hangx 
 
 ing from the vaulting to the pavement for the 
 
 tolling of the bells in the spire* There is a hideous 
 
 renaissance screen of solid stone or marble bex 
 
 tween choir and nave, with more hideous iron 
 
 gates to it, through which however we, walking 
 
 up the choir steps, can look and see the gorgeous 
 
 carving of the canopied stalls; and then, alas, the 
 
 293 
 
The concretion of flattened sacks rising forty feet above 
 
 Churches the altar : but above that the belt of the apse winx 
 of North dows, rich with sweet mellowed stained glass, 
 France under the domelike roof* The stalls in the choir 
 are very rich, as people know; carved in wood 
 in the early sixteenth century, with high twisted 
 canopies, and histories, from the Old Testament 
 mostly, wrought about them. The history of Jox 
 seph I remember best among these. Some of the 
 scenes in it I thought very delightful, the story 
 told in such a gloriously quaint straightforward 
 manner. Pharaoh's dream, how splendid that 
 was! the king lying asleep on his elbow, and the 
 kine coming up to him in two companies, I think 
 the lean kine was about the best bit of wood'carv/ 
 ing I have seen yet. There they were, a writhing 
 heap, crushing and crowding one another; droopx 
 ing heads and starting eyes, and strange angular 
 bodies; altogether the most wonderful symbol of 
 famine ever conceived. I never fairly understood 
 Pharaoh's dream till I saw the stalls at Amiens, 
 There is nothing else to see in the choir, all the 
 rest of the fittings being as bad as possible. So we 
 will go out again and walk round the choir aisles. 
 The screen round the choir is solid, the upper part 
 of it carved in the flamboyant times with the his^ 
 toryof SJohn the Baptist on the north side, with 
 that of S* Firmin on the south, I remember very 
 little of the sculptures relative to S, John, but I 
 knowthat I did not like them much. Those about 
 294 
 
S* Firmin,who evangelised Picardy, I remember The 
 much better, & some of them especially I thought Churches 
 very beautiful: they are painted too, and at any of North 
 rate one cannot help looking at them, I do not France 
 remember in the least the order in which they 
 come, but some of them are fixed well enough in 
 my memory, and principally a bishop, S* Firmin, 
 preaching, rising out of a pulpit from the midst 
 of the crowd in his jewelled cope and mitre, and 
 with a beautiful sweet face* Then another, the 
 baptising of the king&his lords, was very quaint 
 and lifelike* I remember too something about the 
 finding of S* Firmin's relics and the translation 
 of the same relics when found; the many bishops 
 with their earnest faces in the first, and the priests 
 bearing the reliquaries in the second, with their 
 long vestments girded at the waist & falling over 
 their feet, painted too in light colours with golden 
 flowers on them* I wish I remembered these carv> 
 ings better, I liked them so much* 
 Just about this place, in the lower part of the 
 screen, I remember the tomb of a priest, very gorx 
 geous with gold and colours * H e lay in a deep niche 
 under a broad segmental arch which is painted 
 with angels; and outside this niche angels were 
 drawing back painted curtains, I am sorry to say* 
 But the priest lay there in cope and alb, and the 
 gentle colour lay over him as his calm face gazed 
 ever at the angels painted in his resting-place* I 
 have dim recollection of seeing when I was at 
 
 295 
 
The Amiens before, not this last time, a tomb which 
 
 Churches I liked much; a bishop I think it was, lying under 
 of North a small round arch; but I forget the figure now* 
 France Thiswas inachapel on the other side of the choir. 
 It is very hard to describe the interior of a great 
 church like this, especially since the whitewash 
 (applied, as I said, on this scale in 1771) lies on 
 everything so* Before that time, some book says, 
 the church was painted from end to end with 
 patterns of flowers & stars, and histories. Think! 
 I might have been able to say something about 
 it then, with that solemn glowof colour all about 
 me as I walked there from sunrise to sunset; and 
 yet perhaps it would have filled my heart too full 
 for speaking, all that beauty; I know not. 
 Up into the triforium and other galleries, somex 
 times in the church, sometimes in narrow passx 
 ages of closexfitting stone, sometimes out in the 
 open air : up into the forest of beams between the 
 slates and the real stone roof. One can look down 
 through a hole in the vaulting and see the people 
 walking and praying on the pavement below, 
 looking very small from that height and strange^ 
 ly foreshortened, A strange sense of oppression 
 came over me at that time, when as we were in 
 one of the galleries of the west front we looked 
 into the church and found the vaulting but a foot 
 or two (or it seemed so) above our heads. Also 
 while I was in the galleries, now out of the church, 
 no win it, the canons had begun to sing compline; 
 296 
 
and the sound of their singing floated dimly up The 
 
 the winding staircases and half/shut doors* The Churches 
 
 sun was setting when we were in the roof; and a of North 
 
 beam of it, striking through the small windowup France 
 
 in the gable fell in bloodied spots on the beams 
 
 of the great dim roof* We came out from the roof 
 
 onto the parapet in the blaze of the sun, and then 
 
 going to the crossingmounted as high as we could 
 
 into the spire,& stood there awhile looking down 
 
 on the beautiful country with its many water/ 
 
 meadows and feathering trees* 
 
 And here let me say something about the way in 
 
 which I have taken this description upon me; for 
 
 I did not write it at Amiens: moreover if I had 
 
 described it from my bare reminiscences of the 
 
 church, I should have been able to say little enough 
 
 about the most interesting part of all, the sculp/ 
 
 tures, namely* So, though remembering well 
 
 enough the general effect of the whole, and very 
 
 distinctly statues and faces, nay, leaves and flower/ 
 
 knots here and there, yet the external sculpture 
 
 I am describing as well as I can from such photo/ 
 
 graphs as I have; and these, as everybody knows, 
 
 though very distinct and faithful when they show 
 
 anything at all, yet in some places where the 
 
 shadows are deep show simply nothing* They 
 
 tell me too nothing about the colour of the build/ 
 
 ing, in fact their brown and yellow is as unlike as 
 
 possible to the grey of Amiens* So for the facts of 
 
 form I have to look at my photographs, for facts 
 
 qq 
 
The of colour I have to try and remember the day or 
 
 Churches two I spent at Amiens; and the reference to the 
 
 of North former has considerably dulled my memory of 
 
 France the latter* I have something else to say too ; it will 
 
 seem considerably ridiculous no doubt to people 
 
 who are well acquainted with the iconography of 
 
 the French churches when I talk about the stories 
 
 of some of the carvings, both from my want of 
 
 knowledge as to their meaning, and also from my 
 
 telling people things which everybody may be 
 
 supposed to know* For which I pray forgiveness, 
 
 and so go on to speak of the carvings about the 
 
 south transept door. 
 
 Itisdividedinthemidstbyapillarwhereon stands 
 theVirgin holding Our Lord* She is crowned, and 
 has a smile upon her face now for ever; and in the 
 canopy above her head are three angels bearing 
 up the aureole there; and about these angels, and 
 the aureole and head of the Virgin there is still 
 some gold and vermilion left* The Holy Child, 
 held in his mother's left arm, is draped from his 
 throat to his feet, and between his hands he holds 
 the orb of the world* About on a level with the 
 Virgin, along the sides of the doorway, are four 
 figures on each side, the innermost one on either 
 side being an angel holding a censer; the others 
 are ecclesiastics and (some book says) benefactors 
 to the church* They have solemn faces, stern, with 
 firm closexset lips, and eyes deep^set under their 
 brows, almost frowning, and all but one or two 
 298 
 
are beardless, though evidently not young* The The 
 square doorxvalves are carved with deepxtwined Churches 
 leafxmouldings, and the capitals of the doorx of North 
 shafts are carved with varying knots of leaves and France 
 flowers* Above the Virgin, up in the tympanum 
 of the doorway, are carved the Twelve Apostles, 
 divided into two bands of six by the canopy over 
 the Virgin's head* They are standing in groups 
 of two, but I do not know for certain which they 
 are, except I think two, S* James and S* John ; the 
 two first in the eastern division* James has the 
 pilgrim's hat and staff, and John is the only beardx 
 less one among them* His face is rather sad and 
 exceedingly lovely, as indeed are all those faces, 
 being somewhat alike, and all insomedegreelike 
 the type of face received as the likeness of Christ 
 himself* They have all long hair falling in rippled 
 bands on each side of their faces on to their shoulx 
 ders* Their drapery too is lovely; they are very 
 beautiful and solemn* 
 
 Abovetheir heads runs a cornice oftrefoiled arches, 
 one arch over the head of each apostle: from out 
 of the deep shade of the trefoils flashes a grand 
 leaf cornice, one leaf again to each apostle; and so 
 wecometothenextcompartment,whichcontains 
 three scenes from the life of S* Honore, an early 
 French bishop* The first scene is I think the elecx 
 tion of a bishop; the monks and priests talking 
 the matter over in chapter first, then going to tell 
 the bishopxelect* Gloriously draped figures the 
 
 299 
 
The monks are,with genial faces, full of good wisdom, 
 
 Churches drawn into quaint expressions by the joy of argu/ 
 of North ment* This one is old and has seen much of the 
 France world: he is trying I think to get his objections 
 answered by the young man there who is talking 
 to him so earnestly: he is listening with a half/ 
 smile on his face, as if he had made up his mind 
 after alL These other two, one very energetic in/ 
 deed, with his head and shoulders swung back a 
 little and his right arm forward; and the other 
 listening to him, and but half convinced yet* Then 
 the two next, turning to go with him who is bear/ 
 ing to the new/chosen bishop the book of the 
 Gospels and pastoral staff; they look satisfied and 
 happy* Then comes he with the pastoral staff 
 and Gospels; then finally the man who is an/ 
 nouncing the news to the bishop himself; the 
 most beautiful figure in the whole scene, perhaps 
 in the whole doorway* He is stooping down lov/ 
 ingly to the man they have chosen, with his left 
 hand laid on his arm ; and his long robe falls to 
 his feet from his shoulder all along his left side, 
 moulded a little to the shape of his body, but fall/ 
 ing heavily & with scarce a fold in it to the ground* 
 The chosen one, sitting there with his book held 
 between his two hands, looks up to him with his 
 brave face; and he will be bishop, and rule well I 
 think* So in the next scene he is bishop, I suppose, 
 and is sitting there, ordering the building of a 
 church; for he is sitting under a trefoiled canopy, 
 300 
 
with his mitre on his head, his right hand on a The 
 reading-desk by his side* His book is lying open, Churches 
 his head turned toward what is going forwards* It of North 
 is a splendid head and face* In the photograph I France 
 have of this subject the mitre, short and simple, 
 is in full light but foralittle touch of shade on one 
 side; the face is shaded, but the crown of short 
 crisp curls hanging over it is about half in light 
 & half in shade* Beyond the trefoil canopy comes 
 a wood of quaint conventional trees, full of stone, 
 with a man working at it with a long pick; I canx 
 not see his face, as it is altogether in shade; the 
 light falls on his head however* He is dressed in 
 a long robe, quite down to his feet, not a very 
 convenient dress, one would think, for working 
 in* I like the trees here very much ; they are meant 
 for hawthorns and oaks* There are a very few 
 leaves on each tree, but at the top they are all 
 twisted about, and are thicker, as if the wind were 
 blowing them* The little capitals of the canopy 
 underwhich thebishop is sitting are very delightx 
 ful, and are common enough in larger work of this 
 time (thirteenth century) in France* Four bunches 
 of leaves spring from long stiff stalks and support 
 the square abacus, one under each corner* 
 The next scene, in the division above, is some 
 miracleorotherwhichtookplaceatmass,itseems* 
 The bishop is saying mass before an altar; behind 
 him are four assistants; and as the bishop stands 
 there with his hand raised a hand coming from 
 
 301 
 
The somewhere by the altar holds down to him the 
 
 Churches consecrated wafer* The thing is gloriously carved, 
 
 of North whatever it is* The assistant immediately behind 
 
 France the bishop, holding in his hands a candlestick 
 
 somewhat slantwise towards the altar is, especix 
 
 ally in the drapery, one of the most beautiful in 
 
 the upper part of this tympanum* His head is a 
 
 little bent, and the line made from the back of it 
 
 over the heavy hair down alongthe heavyxswing' 
 
 ing robe is very beautiful* 
 
 The next scene is the shrine of some saint, this 
 same bishop, I suppose; dead now after all his 
 building and ruling, and hard fighting, possibly, 
 with the powers that be, often to be fought with 
 righteously in those times* Over the shrine sits 
 the effigy of the bishop, with his hand raised to 
 bless* On the western side are two worshippers; 
 on the eastern a blind and a deaf man are being 
 healed, or waiting to be healed by the touch of the 
 dead bishop's robe* The deaf man is leaning forx 
 ward, and the servant of the shrine holds to his 
 ear the bishop's robe* The deaf man has a very 
 deaf face; not very anxious though, not even showx 
 ing very much hope, but faithful only* The blind 
 one is coming up behind him with a crutch in his 
 right hand, and led by a dog; either the face was 
 in its first estate very ugly and crabbed, or by the 
 action of the weather or some such thing has been 
 changed so* 
 
 So the bishop being dead, and miracles being 
 302 
 
wrought at his tomb, in the division above comes The 
 
 the translation of his remains; a long procession Churches 
 
 taking up the whole of the division, which is of North 
 
 shorter than the others, however, being higher France 
 
 up towards the top of the arch* An acolyte bear/ 
 
 ing a cross heads the procession, then come two 
 
 choristers; then priests bearing relics and books* 
 
 Long vestments they have, and stoles crossed un/ 
 
 derneath their girdles; then comes the reliquary, 
 
 borne by one at each end, the two finest figures in 
 
 this division* The first especially; his head is 
 
 raised and his body leaning forward to the weight 
 
 of the reliquary, as people nearly always do walk 
 
 when they carry burdens and are going slowly, 
 
 which this procession certainly is doing; for some 
 
 of the figures are even turning round* Three men 
 
 are kneeling or bending down beneath the shrine 
 
 as it passes; cripples they are; all three have beauti/ 
 
 ful faces; the one who is apparently the worst 
 
 cripple of the three (his legs and feet are horribly 
 
 twisted) has especially a wonderfully delicate 
 
 face, timid and shrinking though faithful* Behind 
 
 the shrine come the people, walking slowly to/ 
 
 gether with reverent faces : a woman with a little 
 
 child holding her hand are the last figures in this 
 
 history of Saint Honore; they both have their 
 
 faces turned full south* The woman has not a 
 
 beautiful face, but a happy good-natured genial 
 
 one* 
 
 The cornice below this division is of plain round/ 
 
 303 
 
The headed trefoils, very wide; and the spandril of each 
 
 Churches arch is pierced with a small round trefoil, very 
 
 of North sharply cut, looking in fact as if it were cut with a 
 
 France punch* This cornice, simple though it is, I think 
 
 very beautiful; and in my photograph the broad 
 
 trefoils of it throw sharp black shadows on the 
 
 stone behind the worshipping figures and square^ 
 
 cut altar s 
 
 In the triangular space at the top of the arch is a 
 representation of Our Lord on the cross, S* Mary 
 and S* John standing, one on either side of him, 
 and kneeling on one knee under the sloping sides 
 of the arch two angels, one on each side* I very 
 much wish I could say something more about this 
 piece of carving than I can do ; because it seems to 
 me that the French thirteenth century sculptors 
 failed less in their representations of the Crucix 
 fixion than almost any set of artists, though it 
 was certainly an easier thing to do in stone than 
 on canvas, especially in such a case as this, where 
 the representation is so highly abstract* Neverx 
 theless, I wish I could say something more about 
 it; failing which I will say something about my 
 photograph of it* I cannot see the Virgin's face at 
 all, it is in the shade so much: S* John's I cannot 
 see very well; I do not think it is a remarkable 
 face though there is sweet expression in it* Our 
 Lord's face is very grand and solemn, as fine as I 
 remember seeing it anywhere in sculpture* The 
 shadow of the body hanging on the cross there 
 
 304 
 
falls strangely and weirdly on the stone behind* The 
 
 Both the kneeling angels, who by the way are Churches 
 
 holding censers, are beautiful* Did I say above of North 
 
 that the face of one of the Twelve Apostles was France 
 
 the most beautiful in the tympanum? If I did, I 
 
 retract that saying, certainly, looking on the west' 
 
 ernmost of these two angels* I keep using the word 
 
 beautiful so often that I feel half inclined to apolox 
 
 gise for it; but I cannot help it, though it is often 
 
 quite inadequate to express the loveliness of some 
 
 of the figures carved here; and so it happens sure- 
 
 ly with the face of this angel* The face is not that 
 
 of a man, I should think; it is rather like a very 
 
 fair woman's face, but fairer than any woman's 
 
 face I ever saw or thought of: it is in profile and 
 
 easy to be seen in the photograph, though some- 
 
 what in the shade* I am utterly at a loss how to 
 
 describe it, or to give any idea of the exquisite lines 
 
 of the cheek and the rippled hair sweeping back 
 
 from it, just faintly touched by the light from the 
 
 south-east* I cannot say more about it* 
 
 So I have gone through the carvings in the lower 
 
 Krt of this doorway, and those of the tympanum* 
 ow besides these all the archingxover of the 
 door is filled with figures under canopies about 
 which I cansay little, partlyfrom want ofadequate 
 photographs, partly from ignorance of their imx 
 port* But the first of the cavettos wherein these 
 figuresareisatanyratefilled with figures of angels, 
 some swinging censers, some bearing crowns and 
 rr 305 
 
The other things which I cannot distinguish. Most of 
 
 Churches the niches in the next cavetto seem to hold sub/ 
 
 of North jects ; but the square camera of the photographer 
 
 France clips some, many others are in shadow ; in fact the 
 
 niches throw heavy shadows on the faces of near/ 
 
 ly all, and without the photograph I remember 
 
 nothing but much fretted grey stone above the 
 
 line of the capitals of the doorway shafts; grey 
 
 stone with something carved in it, and the swalx 
 
 lows flying in and out of it* Yet now there are two 
 
 or three niches I can say something about at all 
 
 events* 
 
 A stately figure with a king's crown on his head, 
 
 and hair falling in three waves over his shoulders; 
 
 a very kingly face looking straight onward ; a great 
 
 jewelled collar falling heavily to his elbows; his 
 
 right hand holding a heavy sceptre formed of 
 
 many budding flowers, and his left just touching 
 
 in front the folds of his raiment, that falls heavily, 
 
 very heavily to the ground over his feet: Saul king 
 
 of Israel* A bending figure with covered head 
 
 pouring with his right hand oil on the head of a 
 
 youth, plainly not a child, but dwarfed to a young 
 
 child's stature before the bending of the solemn 
 
 figure with the covered head: Samuel anointing 
 
 David, A king again with face hidden in deep 
 
 shade, holding a naked sword in his right hand 
 
 and a living infant in the other; and two women 
 
 before him, one with a mocking smile on her face, 
 
 the other with her head turned up in passionate 
 
 306 
 
entreaty; grown women they are plainly, but The 
 
 dwarfed to the stature of young girls before the Churches 
 
 hidden face ofthe king: the judgment of Solomon* of North 
 
 An old man with drawn sword in the right hand, France 
 
 his left hand on a fair youth dwarfed, though no 
 
 child, to the stature of a child* The old man's 
 
 head is turned somewhat towards the presence of 
 
 an angel behind him, who points downward to 
 
 something unseen: Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac* 
 
 Noah too, working diligently, that the ark may 
 
 be finished before the flood comes* Adam tilling 
 
 the ground and clad in the skins of beasts* There 
 
 is Jacob's stolen blessing, that was yet in some 
 
 sort to be a blessing though it was stolen* There 
 
 is old Jacob, whose pilgrimage is just finished now 
 
 after all his doings and sufferings, all those deceits 
 
 inflicted upon him, thatmadehim remember perx 
 
 force the lie he said and acted long ago: old Jacob 
 
 blessing the sons of Joseph* And many more 
 
 which I remember not, know not; mingled too 
 
 with other things which I dimly see have to do 
 
 with the daily occupations of the men who lived 
 
 in the dim farxofF thirteenth century* 
 
 I remember as I came out by the north door of the 
 
 west front how tremendous the porches seemed 
 
 tome; which impression of greatness and solemx 
 
 nity the photographs, square cut and brown colx 
 
 oured, do not keep at all* Still however I can recall 
 
 whenever I please the wonder I felt before that 
 
 great triple porch: I remember best in this way 
 
 307 
 
The the porch into which I first entered, namely the 
 
 Churches northernmost, probably because I saw most of 
 of North it, coming in and out often by it; yet perhaps the 
 France fact that I have seen no photograph of this doorx 
 way somewhat assists this impression* Yet I do 
 not remember even of this anything more than 
 the fact that the tympanum represented the life 
 and death of some early French bishop ; it seemed 
 very interesting* I remember too that in the doorx 
 jambs were standing figures of bishops in two 
 long rows, their mitred heads bo wed forward sol' 
 emnly ; and I remember nothing further* 
 Concerning the southernmost porch of the west 
 front* The doorway of this porch also has on the 
 centre pillar of it a statue of the Virgin standing, 
 holding the Divine Child in her arms* Both the 
 faces of the Virgin Mother and of her Son are very 
 beautiful; I like them much better than those in 
 the south transept, already spoken of; indeed I 
 think them the grandest of all the faces of the 
 Madonna and Child that I have seen carved by 
 the French architects* I have seen many the faces 
 of which I do not like, though the drapery is alx 
 ways beautiful; their faces I do not like at all 
 events as faces of the Virgin and Child, though 
 as faces of other people, even if not beautiful, they 
 would be interesting* The Child is, as in the tranx 
 sept, draped down to the feet; draped too how exx 
 quisitely!knownothowtosay*Hisrightarmand 
 hand is stretched out across his mother's breast, 
 308 
 
his left hangs down so that his wrist, as his hand The 
 is a little curved upwards, rests upon his knee: Churches 
 his mother holds him slightly with her left arm, of North 
 while with her right she holds a fold of her robe France 
 on which his feet rest* His figure is not by any 
 means that of an infant, for it is slim and slender; 
 too slender for even a young boy, yet too soft, too 
 much rounded for a youth; and the head also is 
 too large* I suppose some people would object to 
 this way of carving one who is supposed to be an 
 infant ; yet I have no doubt that the old sculptors 
 were right in doing so, and to my help in this 
 matter comes the remembrance of Ruskin's an^ 
 ,\ swerto what Lord Lindsay says concerning the 
 inability of Giotto and his school to paint young 
 children* For he says that it might very well hapx 
 pen that Giotto could paint children, but yet did 
 not choose to in this instance (the Presentation 
 of the Virgin) for the sake of the much greater 
 dignity to be obtained by using the more fully 
 developed figure and face : and surely, whatever 
 could be said about Giotto's paintings,no one who 
 was at all acquainted with Early French sculpx 
 ture could doubt that the carvers of this figure here 
 
 /* In the explanatory remarks accompanyingthe 
 engravings from Giotto's frescoes in the Arena 
 Chapel published by the Arundel Society* I rex 
 gret not being able to give the reference to the 
 passage, not having the work by me* 
 
 309 
 
The could have carved an infant if they had thought 
 
 Churches fit to do so; men who again and again grasped 
 of North eagerly common everyday things when in any 
 France way they would tell their story* 
 
 To return to the statues themselves* The face of 
 the young Christ is of the same character as his 
 figure* such a face as Elizabeth Browning tells 
 of t the face of one who never sinned or smiled: at 
 least if the sculptor fell below his ideal somewhat, 
 yet for all that, through that face which he failed 
 in a little we can see when we look that his ideal 
 was such an one* The Virgin's face is calm and 
 very sweet, full of rest ; indeed the two figures are 
 very full of rest ; everything about them expresses 
 it, from the broad forehead of the Virgin to the 
 resting of the feet of the Child (who is almost 
 self-balanced) in the fold of the robe that she holds 
 gently, to the falling of the quiet lines of her robe 
 over her feet, to the resting of its folds between 
 them* 
 
 The square heads of the door/valves, and a flat 
 moulding above them, which runs up also into 
 the first division of the tympanum, are covered 
 with faintly cut diaperxwork of fourxleaved flowx 
 ers* Along the jambs of the doorway on the north 
 side stand six kings, all bearded men but one, 
 who is young apparently* I do not know who 
 these are, but think they must be French kings; 
 one, the farthest toward the outside of the porch, 
 has taken his crown off, and holds it in his hand* 
 310 
 
The figures on the other side of the doorxjambs The 
 
 are invisible in the photograph, except one, the Churches 
 
 nearest to the front, young, sad, and earnest to of North 
 
 look at; I know not who he is* Five figures outx France 
 
 side the porch and on the angles of the doorxjambs 
 
 are I suppose prophets; perhaps those who have 
 
 prophesied of the birth of Our Lord, as this door 
 
 is apportioned to the Virgin, 
 
 The first division of the tympanum has six sitx 
 
 ting figures in it: on each side of the canopy over 
 
 the Virgin's head Moses and Aaron; Moses with 
 
 the tables of the law, and Aaron with great blosx 
 
 somed staff, ^X^ith them again, two on either side, 
 
 sit the four greater prophets, their heads veiled, 
 
 and a small scroll lying along between them over 
 
 their knees; old they look, very old; old and pasx 
 
 sionate and fierce, sitting there for so long. The 
 
 next division has in it the death and burial of the 
 
 Virgin; the twelve apostles clustering round the 
 
 deathbed of the Virgin, I wish my photograph 
 
 were on a larger scale, for this indeed seems tome 
 
 one of the most beautiful pieces of carving about 
 
 this church; those earnest faces expressing so 
 
 many things mingled with their regret that she 
 
 will be no longer with them, and she, the Virginx 
 
 mother in whom all those prophecies were fulx 
 
 filled, lying so quiet there with her hands crossed 
 
 downwards, dead at last. Ah, and where will she 
 
 go now? Whose face will she see always ? O that 
 
 we might be there too! O those faces so full of all 
 
 3" 
 
The tender regret, which even they must feel for her; 
 
 Churches full of all yearning and longing that they too 
 of North might finish the long fight, that they might be 
 France with the happy dead ! There is a wonder on their 
 faces too,when they see what the mighty powerof 
 death is* The foremost is bending down with his 
 left hand laid upon her breast, and he is gazing so 
 long, so very long; one looking there too over his 
 shoulder rests his hand on him; there is one at the 
 head, one at the foot of the bed, and he at the head 
 isturningroundhisheadthathemayseeherface, 
 while he holds in his hands the long vestment 
 on which her head rests. In my photograph the 
 shadow is so thick that I cannot see much of the 
 burial of the Virgin ; can see scarce anything of 
 the faces, only just the forms of the Virgin lying 
 quiet and still there, of the bending angels and 
 their great wings that shadow everything there. 
 So also of the third and last division, filling the 
 top of the arch ; I only know that it represents the 
 Virgin sitting glorified with Christ, crowned by 
 angels, and with angels all about her. 
 The first row in the vaulting of the porch has 
 angels in it holding censers and candlesticks; the 
 next has in it the kings who sprang from Jesse, 
 with a flowing bough twisted all among them; 
 thethirdand last ishiddenby aprojectingmouldx 
 ing. All the three porches of the west front have 
 a fringe of cusps ending in flowers hanging to 
 their outermost arch; and above this a band of 
 
flowerxwork consisting of a rose and three rosex The 
 leaves alternating with each other* Churches 
 
 Concerning the central porch of the west front, of North 
 The pillar which divides the valves of the central France 
 porch carries a statue of Our Lord, his right hand 
 raised to bless, his left hand holding the book. 
 Along the jambs of the porch are the apostles, 
 but not the apostles alone, I should think; those 
 that are in the side that I can see have their disx 
 tinctive emblems with them, some of them at 
 least. Their faces vary very much here, as also 
 their figures and dress ; the one I like best among 
 them is one who I think is meant for S* James 
 the Less, with a long club in his hands : but they 
 are all grand faces, stern and indignant, for they 
 have come to judgment* For there above in the 
 tympanum, in the midst, over the head of Christ, 
 stand three angels; and the midmost of them 
 bears scales in his hands, wherein are the souls 
 being weighed against the accusations of the Acx 
 cuser: and on either side of him stands another 
 angel blowing a long trumpet held downwards, 
 and their long, long raiment, tight across the 
 breast, falls down over their feet, heavy, vast, unx 
 girt* And at the corners of this same division stand 
 two other angels, and they also are blowing long 
 trumpets held downwards, so that their blast goes 
 round theworld and through it; and thedeadare 
 rising between the robes of the angels with their 
 hands, many of them, lifted to heaven* And above 
 ss 313 
 
The them and below them are deepbands of wrought 
 
 Churches flowers, and in the vaulting of the porch are eight 
 of North bands of niches, with many, many figures carved 
 France therein. In the first row, in the lowest niche Abrax 
 ham stands, with the saved souls in the folds of 
 his raiment; in the next row and in the rest of 
 the niches are angels with their hands folded in 
 prayer, and in the next row angels again, bearing 
 the souls over of which they had charge in life; 
 and this is I think the most gloriously carved of 
 all those in the vaulting* Then martyrs come, 
 bearing their palmxboughs; then priests with the 
 chalice, each of them ; and others there are which 
 I know not of* But above the resurrection from 
 the dead in the tympanum is the reward of the 
 good and the punishment of the bad* Peter is 
 standing there at the gate, and the long line of 
 the blessed entering one by one, each one crowned 
 as he enters by an angel waiting there; and above 
 their heads a cornice takes the shape of many 
 angels stooping down to crown them. But on the 
 inferno side the devil drives before him the wicked 
 all naked, presses them on toward hellrnouth 
 that gapes for them, and above their heads the 
 devilxcornice hangs and weighs on them* And 
 above these the Judge, showing the wounds that 
 were made for the salvation of the world, and S* 
 Mary and SJohn kneeling on either side of him, 
 they who stood so once at the Crucifixion; two 
 angels carrying cross and spear and nails, two 
 
 314 
 
others kneeling, and above, other angels with The 
 
 their wings spread, and singing* Something like Churches 
 
 this is carved in the central porch at Amiens* of North 
 
 Once more forgive me I pray for the poor way France 
 
 in which I have done even that which I have atx 
 
 tempted to do, and forgive me also for that which 
 
 I have left undone* And now farewell to the 
 
 church that I love; to the carved templexmounx 
 
 tain that rises so high above the water-meadows 
 
 of the Somme, above the grey roofs of the good 
 
 town* Farewell to the sweep of the arches up from 
 
 the bronze bishops lying at the west end, up 
 
 to the belt of solemn windows, where through 
 
 the painted glass the light comes solemnly* Fare- 
 
 well to the cavernous porches of the west front, so 
 
 grey under the fading August sun ; grey with the 
 
 windstorms, grey with the rain-storms, grey with 
 
 the beat of many days' sun from sunrise to sun- 
 
 set; showing white sometimes too, when the sun 
 
 strikes it strongly, snowy xwhite sometimes when 
 
 the moon is on it and the shadows growingblackx 
 
 er; but grey now, fretted into deeper grey, fretted 
 
 into black by the mitres of the bishops, by the 
 
 solemn covered heads of the prophets, by the conv 
 
 pany of the risen and the long robes of the judgx 
 
 ment/angels ; by hellxmouth and its flames gapx 
 
 ing there, and the devils that feed it; by the saved 
 
 souls and the crowning angels; by the presence 
 
 of the Judge, and the roses growing above them 
 
 all for ever* Farewell to the spire, gilt all over with 
 
 3*5 
 
The gold once, and shining out there very gloriously ; 
 
 Churches dullandgreynow,alas! But still it catches through 
 
 of North its interlacement of arches the intensest blue of 
 
 France the blue summer sky; and sometimes at night 
 
 you may see the stars shiningthrough it. It is fair 
 
 still though the gold is gone, the spire that seems 
 
 to rock when across it in the wild February nights 
 
 the clouds go westward. 
 
DEATH THE AVENGER & DEATH 
 THE FRIEND. 
 
 THE names of two wonderful wood engravx 
 ings by Alfred Rethel, a German, and one to be 
 remembered in the aftertime* Now Death the 
 Avenger commemorates the first appearance of 
 the cholera in 1831, which happened in Paris at a 
 masked ball* It is there in that room, the Cholera, 
 and Death : a strangely chosen room, one thinks, 
 in its architecture,foraballxroom;liker toatomb 
 than that* It might have served well in those old 
 times for the followers of John and Paul to meet 
 in, to feel new life come upon them, new thoughts, 
 new love, new longings, new hope* Thick walls 
 and heavy roof and deep splayed windows it has, 
 but withal gorgeous patterned hangings from 
 gallery and pillar and dais; gorgeous but ugly; the 
 patterns crawl like evil poisonous spiders, like the 
 blotches of damp on foul walls* And in this ballx 
 room only one dances now, Death, arrayed in hood 
 and the long robes of a pilgrim, girt about the 
 middle with a rope; one leg showing from the 
 longdraperyisthrownforwardinmockeryofdanc' 
 ing;and the dancers*** there are two of them lying 
 there, a man and a woman, both dead and stiff* 
 The man's mask has fallen down, covers all his 
 face except the eyes and forehead ; & very strange^ 
 ly contrasted are the calm, self' satisfied, inane 
 features of the mask with the wrinkled forehead 
 and brows contracted in pain of the face that was 
 
 317 
 
Death the alive once* The woman's mask, fastened to her 
 Avenger hat, has fallen back, and her open mouth shows 
 and Death free from it; her arms are hidden by her dress; a 
 the Friend long flower- garland trails round about her* And 
 the rest of the maskers are rushing in mad race 
 out of the room, the last wearing a fantastic dress 
 with a fool's hump on the back of it, his arms 
 muffled in his mumming-dress* Others are there 
 who rush out also, the musicians, huddled all to- 
 gether, their instruments blocking up the way; 
 no man looking at his neighbour to see how he 
 fares, or caring for him* For the grinning skeleton, 
 Death, standing there with his head thrown on 
 one side, has two bones in his hands which he uses 
 as fiddle and fiddle-bow, playing so wonderfully 
 that as you look at the drawing you almost seem 
 tohearthewild terrible skirling of somemadreel* 
 Most terrible figure of all, in the background sits 
 the Cholera, waiting; in her right hand a triple 
 scourge armed at the end with goads (such a firm 
 grip of that scourge!), and her left hand clasps her 
 right arm justbelowthe wrist; fearful strongarms 
 and hands* She is wrapped in long raiment that 
 trails on the ground, and has flames all about it; 
 her face is black, her mouth stern, indignant, with 
 lips drawn up tight together; fixed eyes glaring 
 straight forward and lidless, no drooping eyelids 
 to her; beneath any rebuke, any defiance* Is it not 
 strange that with all this the face is not a cruel 
 one? such a sense the thing seems to have that it 
 38 
 
too is God's creature, called up in his quarrel: Death the 
 
 strange that there should be even pity in it. This Avenger 
 
 is Death the Avenger. and Death 
 
 Then Death the Friend. In an old tower, just bex the Friend 
 
 low the belfry in the place where they ring the 
 
 bells, there is Death again in his pilgrim's dress 
 
 tolling for one who is just dead, the sacristan of 
 
 that church. This Death is draped tenderly down 
 
 to the feet; there is no maddening horror about 
 
 him, awe only. He is not grinning as in the other 
 
 picture, but gazes downward thoughtfully, alx 
 
 most sadly, thinking of the old man's life that has 
 
 been. And he, with his hands laid together and 
 
 his eyes closed, is leaning back in his chair; many 
 
 a time these latter years has he leant back so, then 
 
 needs must that he rise stiffly and wearily to go 
 
 about his duties. B ut now he need never rise again ; 
 
 his lips, parted a little now, need never again be 
 
 drawn together close at sight of weary injustice 
 
 and wrong; he will soon understand why all these 
 
 things were. The dragons on the spirexeaves lean 
 
 forward openxmouthed, disappointed because he 
 
 has got quit of all that now; near the head of him, 
 
 against the wall is a figure of Christ on the cross; 
 
 a Bible is open by the side of him; near the stairs 
 
 is a horn hanging, a huntsman's horn, & through 
 
 the window, on the sill of which a bird is singx 
 
 ing, you can see the fair sunsetxcountry stretchx 
 
 ing away for leagues and leagues, for we are high 
 
 up here, just under the spire. They say he was a 
 
 319 
 
Death the hunter in the old time, this man; that he heard 
 
 Avenger the north wind sing about his ears as he dashed 
 
 and Death over the open spaces; that the young beeclvleaves 
 
 the Friend in the early summer quivered at the blasts of his 
 
 horn; that many a time he rode into that village 
 
 you can see down there, wherein he was born, 
 
 where his father & his father's father lived, weary 
 
 with riding; that someone usedtolook outforhim 
 
 when he rode in in the evenings* But that too is 
 
 all gone by; only in memories perhaps*** Yet he 
 
 had other hopes then perhaps than this, a mere 
 
 old sacristan dying lonely in the old belfry* What 
 
 matter ? For the setting sun is bright over all that 
 
 country, and the bird sings still in the window-sill, 
 
 not afraid of Death* This is Death the Friend* 
 
 320 
 
WINTER WEATHER* 
 
 WE rode together 
 
 In the winter weather 
 
 To the broad mead under the hill; 
 
 Though the skies did shiver 
 
 With the cold, the river 
 
 Ran, and was never still. 
 
 No cloud did darken 
 
 The night; we did hearken 
 
 The hound's bark far away, 
 
 It was solemn midnight 
 
 In that dread dread night 
 
 In the years that have passed for aye. 
 
 Two rode beside me, 
 
 My banner did hide me 
 
 As it drooped adown from my lance; 
 
 With its deep blue trapping 
 
 The mail overlapping, 
 
 My gallant horse did prance. 
 
 So ever together 
 
 In the sparkling weather 
 
 Moved my banner and lance; 
 
 And its laurel trapping 
 
 The steel overlapping, 
 
 The stars saw quiver and dance, 
 
 We met together 
 
 In the winter weather 
 
 tt 321 
 
Winter By the town walls under the hill ; 
 
 Weather His mailings came clinking, 
 They broke on my thinking, 
 For the night was hushed and stilL 
 
 Two rode beside him, 
 
 His banner did hide him 
 
 As it drooped down straight from his lance; 
 
 With its bloodxred trapping 
 
 The mail overlapping, 
 
 His mighty horse did prance* 
 
 And ever together 
 
 In the solemn weather 
 
 Moved his banner and lance; 
 
 And the holly trapping 
 
 The steel overlapping, 
 
 Did shimmer and shiver and dance* 
 
 Back reined the squires 
 Till they saw the spires 
 Over the city wall ; 
 Ten fathoms between us, 
 No dames could have seen us 
 Tilt from the city wall* 
 
 There we sat upright 
 Till the full midnight 
 Should be told from the city chimes ; 
 Sharp from the towers 
 Leapt forth the showers 
 Of the many clanging rhymes* 
 322 
 
'Twas the midnight hour, Winter 
 
 Deep from the tower Weather 
 
 Boomed the following bell; 
 Down go our lances ! 
 Shout for the lances ! 
 The last toll was his knelL 
 
 There he lay dying; 
 
 He had for his lying 
 
 A spear in his traitorous mouth ; 
 
 A false tale made he 
 
 Of my true true lady, 
 
 But the spear went through his mouth* 
 
 In the winter weather 
 
 We rode back together 
 
 From the broad mead under the hill; 
 
 And the cock sang his warning 
 
 As it grew toward morning, 
 
 But the far-off hound was still* 
 
 Black grew his tower 
 
 As we rode down lower, 
 
 Black from the barren hill; 
 
 And our horses strode 
 
 Up the winding road 
 
 To the gateway dim and still* 
 
 At the gate of his tower 
 In the quiet hour 
 ^X^e laid his body there ; 
 But his helmet broken 
 
Winter We took as a token ; 
 Weather Shout for my lady fair ! 
 
 We rode back together 
 
 In the winter weather 
 
 From the broad mead under the hill; 
 
 No cloud did darken 
 
 The night; we did hearken 
 
 How the hound bayed from the hilL 
 
 324 
 
RIDING TOGETHER* 
 
 FOR many, many days together 
 The wind blew steady from the east; 
 For many days hot grew the weather, 
 About the time of Our Lady's feast* 
 
 For many days we rode together, 
 Yet met we neither friend nor foe; 
 Hotter and clearer grew the weather, 
 Steadily did the east wind blow* 
 
 We saw the trees in the hot bright weather 
 Clear-cut, with shadows very black, 
 As freely we rode on together 
 With helms unlaced and bridles slack* 
 
 And often as we rode together 
 
 We, looking down the greenxbanked stream, 
 
 Saw flowers in the sunny weather, 
 
 And saw the bubblexmaking bream ; 
 
 And in the night lay down together, 
 And hung above our heads the rood, 
 Or watched night/long in the dewy weather 
 The while the moon did watch the wood* 
 
 Our spears stood bright and thick together, 
 Straight out the banners streamed behind, 
 As we galloped on in the sunny weather 
 With faces turned towards the wind* 
 
 Down sank our threescore spears together 
 As thick we saw the pagans ride; 
 
 325 
 
Riding His eager face in the clear fresh weather 
 Together Shone out that last time by my side* 
 
 Up the sweep of the bridge we dashed together, 
 It rocked to the crash of the meeting spears; 
 Down rained the buds of the dear spring weather, 
 The elmxtree flowers fell like tears* 
 
 There, as we rolled and writhed together, 
 I threw my arms above my head; 
 For close by my side, in the lovely weather, 
 I saw him reel and fall back dead* 
 
 I and the slayer met together, 
 He waited the death-stroke there in his place; 
 With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather, 
 Gapingly mazed at my maddened face* 
 
 Madly I fought as we fought together; 
 In vain; the little Christian band 
 The pagans drowned, as in stormy weather 
 The river drowns lowxlying land* 
 
 They bound my blood-stained hands together, 
 They bound his corpse to nod by my side ; 
 Then on we rode in the bright March weather, 
 With clash of cymbals did we ride* 
 
 We ride no more, no more together; 
 My prisonxbars are thick and strong; 
 I take no heed of any weather, 
 The sweet Saints grant I live not long* 
 326 
 
HANDS. 
 
 'TWIXT the sunlight and the shade 
 Float up memories of my maid: 
 God, remember Guendolen! 
 
 Gold or gems she did not wear, 
 But her yellow rippled hair 
 Like a veil hid Guendolen* 
 
 My rough hands so strangely made 
 'Twixt the sunlight and the shade 
 Folded golden Guendolen, 
 
 Hands used to grip the swordxhilt hard 
 Framed her face, while on the sward 
 Tears fell down from Guendolen* 
 
 Guendolen now speaks no word; 
 Hands fold round about the sword: 
 Now no more of Guendolen ; 
 
 Only 'twixt the light and shade 
 Floating memories of my maid 
 Make me pray for Guendolen. 
 
 327 
 
THE CHAPEL IN LYONESS* 
 
 Sir Ozana Le Cure Hardy* Sir Galahad* Sir 
 
 Bors De Ganys* 
 
 Sir Ozana* 
 
 ALL day long and every day 
 
 From Christmas Eve to Whitsunday 
 
 Within that chapel aisle I lay 
 
 And no man came anear* 
 
 Naked to the waist was I, 
 And deep within my breast did lie, 
 Though no man any blood could spy, 
 The truncheon of a spear* 
 
 No meat did ever pass my lips 
 Those days* Alas ! the sunlight slips 
 From off the gilded parclose* dips* 
 And night comes on apace* 
 
 My arms lay back behind my head ; 
 Over my raisedxup knees was spread 
 A samite cloth of white and red; 
 A rose lay on my face* 
 
 Many a time I tried to shout, 
 But as in dream of battlexrout 
 My frozen speech would not well out; 
 I could not even weep* 
 
 With inward sigh I see the sun 
 Fade off the pillars one by one; 
 My heart faints when the day is done 
 Because I cannot sleep* 
 
 328 
 
Sometimes strange thoughts pass through my The Chapel 
 head; in Lyoness 
 
 Not like a tomb is this my bed, 
 Yet oft I think that I am dead, 
 That round my tomb is writ: 
 
 4 Ozana of the hardy heart, 
 
 Knight of theTable Round; 
 
 Pray for his soul, lords, of your part; 
 
 A true knight he was found/ 
 
 Ah me ! I cannot fathom it. He sleeps* 
 
 Sir Galahad* 
 
 All day long and every day 
 Till his madness passed away, 
 I watched Ozana as he lay 
 Within the gilded screen* 
 
 All my singing moved him not; 
 As I sang my heart grew hot 
 W^ith the thought of Lancelot 
 Far away, I ween* 
 
 So I went a little space 
 
 From out the chapel, bathed my face 
 
 In the stream that runs apace 
 
 By the churchyard wall. 
 
 There I plucked a faint wild rose 
 Hard by where the linden grows, 
 Sighing over silver rows 
 Of the lilies tall* 
 
 uu 329 
 
The Chapel I laid the flower across his mouth; 
 
 in Lyoness The sparkling drops seemed good for drouth; 
 
 He smiled, turned round toward the south, 
 
 Held up a golden tress* 
 
 The light smote on it from the west; 
 He drew the covering from his breast, 
 Against his heart that hair he prest; 
 Death him soon will bless* 
 
 Sir Bors* 
 
 I entered by the western door, 
 I saw a knight's helm lying there; 
 I raised my eyes from off the floor, 
 And caught the gleaming of his hair* 
 
 I stept full softly up to him, 
 I laid my chin upon his head; 
 I felt him smile, my eyes did swim 
 I was so glad he was not dead* 
 
 I heard Ozana murmur low: 
 4 There comes no sleep nor any love*' 
 But Galahad stooped and kissed his brow: 
 He shivered; I saw his pale lips move* 
 
 Sir Ozana* 
 
 There comes no sleep nor any love* 
 
 Ah me, I shiver with delight! 
 
 I am so weak I cannot move; 
 
 God move me to thee, dear, to/night! 
 
 Christ help ! I have but little wit, 
 
 My life went wrong; I see it writ: 
 
 330 
 
4 Ozana of the hardy heart, The Chapel 
 
 Knight of the Table Round ; in Lyoness 
 
 Pray for his soul, lords, on your part; 
 
 A good knight he was found/ 
 
 Now I begin to fathom it* He dies* 
 
 Sir Bors* 
 
 Galahad sits dreamily: 
 What strange things may his eyes see, 
 Great blue eyes fixed full on me ? 
 On his soul, Lord, have mercy! 
 
 Sir Galahad* 
 
 Ozana, shall I pray for thee? 
 Her cheek is laid to thine; 
 Her hair against the jasper sea 
 Wbndrously doth shine* 
 
 S3' 
 
PRAY BUT ONE PRAYER FOR US, 
 PRAY but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips, 
 Think but one thought of me up in the stars ! 
 The summer night waneth, the morning light slips 
 Faint and grey 'twixt the leaves of the aspens, be^ 
 twixt the cloud bars 
 
 That are patiently waiting there for the dawn; 
 Patient and colourless, though Heaven's gold 
 Waits to float through them along with the sun* 
 Far out in the meadows, above the young corn 
 The heavy elms wait; and restless and cold 
 The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dun ; 
 Through the long twilight they pray for the dawn 
 Round the lone house in the midst of the corn* 
 Speak but one word to me over the corn, 
 Over the tender bowed locks of the corn ! 
 
 33* 
 
These first writings of William Morris were 
 printed in the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine 
 in 1856, when the author was twentyvtwo years 
 old, and are now reprinted at the Chiswick Press 
 with the Golden type designed byWilliam Morris 
 for the Kelmscott Press, and finished on the tenth 
 day of July, 1903* Published by Longmans,Green 
 & Co., 39, Paternoster Row, London*