GIFT OF Glass of 1900 THE VILLAGE STREET AND OTHER POEMS BY FREDERICK FAUST G. P. PUTNAM S SONS NEW YORK AND LONDON Imfcfterbocfcer 1922 Copyright, 1922, by Frederick Faust Made in the United States of America ^ v ft- 1 I 1 K) CO THOMAS DOWNEY 480023 CONTENTS PAGE THE VILLAGE STREET ..... 3 SONNET ....... 5 THE TORCHES 6 To A LADY 7 ON A GRECIAN FUNERAL MONUMENT . . . 9 YOUTH ..... .10 HOPE 11 THE LAST ADVENTURE . . 12 THE SKYLARK .... .13 BROOKLYN BRIDGE IN A SEA-FOG ... 15 THE PARTING 16 A SONG 17 LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER .... 18 SUNDAY ... . . . . . .35 THE LITTLE MEN ... .37 [v] CONTENTS PAGE BUCCANEER ....... 39 THE STARS ....... 43 FAIRYLAND. ....... 44 THE SECRET 47 BALIN S SONG TO HIS SWORD .... 53 BALIN 54 vi] The Village Street and Other Poems THE VILLAGE STREET WAIT for the time bet ween the day and night When up and down the street The pavements have grown soft with yellow light, And garden airs are sweet. Wait for a wind that moves so lazily It hardly lifts the scent Of honeysuckle or acacia tree With golden blossoms bent. Wait till the red geraniums on the wall Are dim beneath the blue Of the steep shadow, and the elm trees tall Take on a dusky hue. Then out of sacred silence, early or late, Be sure a song will flower, For there is music somewhere, if we wait. Yes, in the quiet hour. [3] THE VILLAGE STREET The human magic of some voice at last Will come to us, half -heard, Men speaking, woman s laughter blowing past, Or child s call, like a bird. Then close your eyes; your spirit will have wings To blow in dreams away, The dearest and the saddest of all things The dreams we have by day. [4] SONNET rE ages now pass by her unaware And decades are like seconds in her sleep, With bridegroom death leaning to watch her there, Pale for the wedding, and the dream how deep ! She was so young, so thrilling young and fair, How strange it is that for her sake we weep ! Lo, in her sleeve the silken ripples creep, And the wind trembles in her shining hair. Yet little is our sorrow now, and pain. New grief is weak as fresh wine from the press. A day shall come, too bitter for belief, When we shall seem to hear her voice again! Let us remember then, in midst of grief, That she was loveliest in her silences. [5] THE TORCHES HPORCHBEARER Spring rushes across the earth With smoke of petals whirling in the wind, And all the naked orchards flush with bloom Until the verdure washes from the hills. Torchbearer Love so runs upon our life, A thrilling moment, a transfigured face, And then the common sense of common things Returns, and in the place of loveliness That pains the heart, there is a sense of growth, A putting forth of leaf, while on the ground The withered petals drift. Of their pale beauty, Where is the fragrance gone that brought the bee Questing upon a wind unhar vested? [6] TO A LADY A CHARMING ghost attends your silences For in the hush a turning of your head, A lifting of the hand, or smile, reveals A gleam, a hope of that enchanting soul. It is not you. You are the precious glass Through which I peer and far away behold A star washed by the loneliness of heaven. Into the holy pause, into the quiet She steps with footfall sounding on my heart; She comes, my love, my lady unpossessed In robes that run like music on the wind And beauty like the sunlight dropping yellow On a still water where the images Of pleasant branches float. I heard her first When first I heard your voice. I turned in haste Looking for her, and only saw your face. [7] TO A LADY So in your silences she still returns, A ghost, indeed, who lives for me alone. And pain takes hold on me when I remember That death for me for her is darkness also; And then my fingers tremble with desire To raise the mallet, grasp the chisel sharp, And give her immortality in stone. But who can render in the marble dead The quality of flame? I were content If she could be translated to a song, But I, who hear the music, cannot sing. [8] ON A GRECIAN FUNERAL MONUMENT ALONG the gallery the dead endure In stone, cat-headed goddesses of Nile Or Roman busts in gloomy porphyry Until I come to the familiar place Of Sostrate bending her lovely head. Time has destroyed and broken much, or blurred, Still she is Sostrate behind a veil. The honeybloom is fresh upon her lips, Beneath the robe I feel the taken breath; White spirit! she is still among the years Of laughing youth unspent. How many come Since then, O Sostrate, how many come Like me, and for the peace upon your brow Pay with a deep unrest and sense of doom. YOUTH T V ZINGED, it seemed, by the white spray, W She galloped her horse by the sea to-day. With yellow hair like a blowing light, With laughter rippling in her flight, She passed between the sea and sky Like a note of music high. Beside old ocean, such laughter wild! She is half woman and half child, I think, and so, my lady dear, Ride on, ride on through the golden year For the garden is watched where the flowers grow And the buds are plucked before they blow. She has passed, and in another place Surely I shall not know her face But I shall remember the lifting wave, The blue sky, and her head so brave. [10] HOPE HOPES, like children in our dreams, Have voices that are still; Their murmurs never touch the ear But hungry hearts they fill. Their shadow hands, their misty eyes Too lovely for belief O beauty, what a pain is thine; O poison-wine of grief! [in THE LAST ADVENTURE HE has stepped lightly on the long road out, The grey road, old with dust, The stern road, never-ending as our doubt, For he was strong in trusts. That as it ran, whither he could not know, It might dip now and then Into great vales where speaking rivers go, Un vexed by ships of men; That it would lead him, neither slow nor fast But at a proper pace, Into the upland silences, at last, Quiet before God s face. THE SKYLARK BETWEEN the daylight and the dark How swift the heaven-aspiring lark ! Wild-hearted poet, he found the wealth Of the singing birds, and drained by stealth The jewels of dew which brim the lip Of the woodland lily where swallows sip, And nightingale and thrush have quaffed The honey- wine of that chilly draught. One drop is joy for a day and a year But the lark drank all the magic clear. He tasted pure beauty, he tasted pure pain, So madness rushed upon his brain And drove him up the mountain-sky Past the hawk that beats his wing on high. With rustling manes around him shaken, The horses of the wind awaken While up and up he circles free [13] THE SKYLARK Through a void of ecstasy And on and on in round on round Till, silence! Think you he has found White heaven like a burst of song Frozen into towers strong? No, he plunges from the height Unseen, into the lower night And quivering lies beside the leaf Where the cricket sings his lyrics brief. We think him still, with strength unspent, Aloft in silence of content, And still beyond the stars we stare, Earthbound, and dream that God is there. [14] BROOKLYN BRIDGE IN THE SEA-FOG T^HE river under mist is silver flowing, * And black the ripple running on the tide ; The half -seen towers go up on either side, White forms, with golden windows faintly glowing. Now springs the bridge, light as a rising hawk, And leaps into the night a broken span With end unseen. So may the God-in- Man Bridge the dim spaces where my soul would walk. 15] THE PARTING WHAT will you do when the wind at night Shrills in the chimney high? I shall sit by the fire and fill my sight With the flames that slacken and die. But there is a picture in your hall, Fairest, you said of the fair ? I shall raise a curtain and cover all, Throat, and lips, and hair. But what of the watch-hours in your bed With only the cold to keep? I shall never turn my head, Thinking that I sleep. 16 A SONG WHEN the almond trees are sweet With blossoms pale as foam, We ll walk together to the church And walk together home; Some evening when the almond bloom, The earliest of the year, Is falling slowly, spirit-soft, On you and me, my dear; Some evening when the wind is hushed And both our hearts are still For wonder that so large a world Should hold so little ill. 17] LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER I THE QUEST "/CRAVEN hearts are beggared hearts; ^- / No coward shall be my lord But Satan shall my master be, Whose name is like a sword." So giant Offerus walked the world Asking on every road What man had seen the devil s face Or knew that king s abode. They pointed to the tempest black And called it the devil s breath; The lightning wandering through the sky Was the glance of the king of death. [181 LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER So on a day in a woodland dark When a storm through heaven poured, He raised his hands to the whirling clouds And the king of death adored. Then hushed the shouting of the wind. The heavy thunder whist. The lofty trees like phantoms moved In a silver drifting mist. A shape drew near, moth-white it was, With wings about it flowing Like spiderwebs that shine with dew When the wind of dawn is blowing. Cold into the giant ran. His tongue was thick with fear. Yet he called unto the shade, Bidding his lord appear. The fog rolled out of the blue, blue sky With the yellow sun a-flood; Music swelled in the giant s throat And tingled in his blood. [19] LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER And the devil appeared as a tinker tall With weather-brown features harsh, His eye as quick, his foot as light As wild-fire on the marsh. Upon the arm of Offerus His bony hand doth rest. He looketh into Offerus To the heart within his breast. "Lo, I am a friend to friendly men And a comrade to the strong. He who blithely walks through life I help him swift along. "To each his will. Unto the one I spacious wealth bequeath And for the upward lifted brow Undying laurel wreathe. "Then let your dreams come rioting Into the light of day. Shame is a ghost to frighten fools And the world is made for play. " [20] LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER But Offerus said: "I only ask For deeds to fill my hands: Adventure over the wild sea And battle in far lands." Straightway there murmured on the wind A far-off martial din Like the tread of an armored multitude And voice of trumpets thin. The tinker answered: "A noble wish! Of all my men the best Have ridden into the dawn of life On even such a quest. "One beguiled a lovely queen. One is a merchant great. One is a king on a stolen throne. All are of kingly state." Now they walked on a meadow soft Where the birds sang alway, And wild flowers crowded underfoot Till the air was sweet as May. [21] LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER Then a bell chimed far away, Through the bird-notes falling, And saddened by the distance seemed A human voice was calling. The Devil halted in middle step. Mid-laugh his voice doth fail. He cannot speak. He cannot move. He standeth stiff and pale. And Offerus turned upon the fiend To question of his dread But the Tinker flashed into empty air And a moan passed overhead. The meadow and the flowers dear Were gone, and in their place A lofty wood rolled solemnly Across the heaven s face. But still the bell beneath the trees Murmured the quiet song As a brook running into the night Carries the stars along. LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER Mighty Offerus bowed his head And groaned into his beard But he followed through the woodland strange The voice the Tinker feared. It led him to a hermitage With the hermit old thereby Frozen in his holy thought, And deadly was his eye. To him spoke lofty Offerus: "I come, O Master, seeking To enter the service of that lord Of whom the bell is speaking." By dim degrees the hermit woke. Large Offerus he viewed. "Giant, the master of the bell Is He who died on rood. "Turn otherwhere. In serving Christ Your power of hand will fail. More He prizes the hermit weak And the hermit s vision pale. [23] LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER "The child that laughs at play, I trow Is larger in God s eye. He tosses up his hands. Behold ! You cannot reach so high. "Yet if you will, drop on your knees In prayer. Give up your sword. And cast the burden of your sins On the mercy of the Lord." Like rattling parchment was his voice But the bell sang between. His voice in trembling phrases broke. The bell, it chimed between. "My knees are strung with tendons hard That cannot bend in fear," Said Offerus, "nor will I call Unto an unseen ear. "I know my arms are strong to seize, My mind is weak to hold, But I shall work with honest hands To serve your master bold." [24] LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER II THE TEMPTATION Offerus found a raging stream Whereover, day by day, He carried in the name of Christ Travellers on their way. He will not pray, he will not fast, No holy songs he sings, But in the peril of the ford He serves the King of kings. There came a night of storm, a night Of thunder and of fear, And in his hut the giant heard A distant calling clear. And the voice led him like a hand Into the noisy dark. First the lightning in the sky Was all that he could mark, And then a child with yellow hair And eyes of quiet grace; A boy with blowing yellow hair Like a light about his face. [25] LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER It was a strange and dreadful thing That lovely child to meet, Happy as sunshine in the storm, And watch his dancing feet. He said: "Upon the other shore The moon is shining fair And a garden underneath the moon With playing children there. "Carry me where the children wreathe The yellow flowers and red Roses, roses Offerus, Woven for your head." But Offerus said: "Beneath the rain The sodden ground is black And through the dark the river makes A white and angry track. "No voices from a garden come Of children at their play But through the dark the angry stream Goes shouting on its way." [26] LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER Still the boy cried: "Look, ah, look! It is a goodly sight To see their happy games and hear Their laughter of delight." He turned again and saw a thing Which was not there before A garden where the children played Upon the farther shore. The thunder spoke. The lightning leaped Through the shadows in the sky But where the noisy children played The moonshine seemed to lie. The lightning through the sea of clouds A twisted course it steered, And Offerus quaked through all his limbs, And bowed his head, and feared. Yet he raised the little child, He entered the wild water That shouted like an army huge Charging down to slaughter. [27] LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER The sand melted beneath his feet; The river, it waxed great Till the burden on his shoulder wide Became a crushing weight. He scarcely stood. About his legs The tangling stream was curled And in his heart he seemed to bear The sorrows of the world. Still the white water harried him. Still the thunder groaned. And Offerus staggered in his work And with the labor moaned. Thereat the child above the storm, In a voice thrilling clear, Cried out: "Now call on Jesus Christ Who keepeth men from fear!" And the waves smote the giant s face And the waves took his breath; Each step in the loud river seemed A pace nearer death. [281 LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER Yet he said: "Call not on Christ. Ask not His aid divine. Behold, the glory is for God But the labor shall be mine." Thereby he reached the shallow water. He climbed to the water-side. And the garden that he looked upon, Oh, it was fair and wide ! The children dancing by the moon, Tfiey made his heart to swell, For their beauty upon Offerus Like gentle music fell. Lo, in merry troops they came With yellow flowers and red And roses, roses in a wreath Offered for his head. But the laughing lips, they made no sound, And the eyes that were so meek Looked wistfully on Offerus, But still they might not speak. [291 LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER Then every face at once went out. The moonshine pure was gone. The rain beat round him. Through the night Went the long lightnings wan. A voice spoke from the dark above And looking up again, Great Offerus thought to see a light, But only felt the rain. "Great Offerus, in your distress If you had called on me My body once again, for you, Would have hung upon the tree. "From every man who lifts his voice In weak humility, I take the burden of his woe; I take his agony. "Those who kneel in suffering, In bitterness and in loss, Each prayer is but another nail That rives me on the cross. [30] LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER "Their sorrows flee; their hearts grow light; Each humble mind is graced; But the sweetness entering their souls, It is my blood they taste. "But he who makes his shoulders wide To bear his single part, He takes the burden of the world And lifts it from my heart. "He binds my wounds of hands and feet. He pities my distress. He ppurs for me the blessed wine Of deep forge tfulness. "Christ perishes for those who pray And they are lulled to sleep, But Offerus for himself will die And for him Christ will weep." Like tears the rain was on his face. He heard the voice depart, But the fragrance of the roses fell Like speech upon his heart. [311 Six Poems for Children 33 SUNDAY THE tall church spire points to the sky And the church steps are wide and high To start us climbing up to God But the church is empty, and that is odd. Only on Sundays the people come And sit so frightened and so dumb. Yet it s a wonderful place to see. The arches are big as they can be, The pillars are wide and strong and tall And a shadowy dome is over all. The preacher talks of Death and Kings And Golden Heaven, and lots of Things While little whispers go to and fro Made by the angels wings, you know. Up in the dome in a shadow-dress God listens to the talk, I guess, Then we all get up and go away And the church is hushed till another day. [35] SUNDAY For one day in church out of the seven Is all we need to think of heaven And sing for God and sit so meek He only lives there once a week. 36 THE LITTLE MEN A WHISPER on the carpet, a creaking on the * stair Hold your breath, close your eyes; the Little Men are there! The middle night has voices and feet that dance with art And the drum that keeps them dancing is the beating of your heart. Murmuring within the wall and in the shadow places They are very little men with round, white faces, Round, white faces and sharpest teeth to gnaw And fingers that are smaller than spider s poison claw. They re the eyes of midnight that are watching you awake, Little eyes that glitter, eyes most like a snake. Once upon a window in the dark of the moon [37] THE LITTLE MEN I saw a tiny goblin who was dancing to a tune; Tingling, tickling music and it made the goblin flit- Fd set the whole world dancing if I should whistle it. Whistle it I dare not for the goblins all would come, Skipping light and grinning, and marching to the drum. The king of all the goblins then would sit above my bed On a throne of solid moonshine with a crown upon his head In the middle of a nightmare that is full of awful eyes Goblins running, goblins flying, all with fearful cries. But the little men of midnight can never work you ill If you cross your fingers tightly and lie there very still Staring at the ceiling counting up to ten They cannot hear your heart-beat, so they vanish again. [38] BUCCANEER SITTING here behind my book, Quiet in my chair, If they knew where I had gone, How they all would stare! While mother shakes her paper out And father taps his chin I am sailing south and south To where the Trades begin. The curtain-poles are yard-arms black, The curtain is a sail, And when I rock my chair the ship Is heeling to a gale. The bow-wave gallops white before, The wake is white behind, Ruler of the sea am I And comrade of the wind. [391 BUCCANEER Down the moon-path silver bright The scar-faced helmsman steers us Drinking to battle and singing of blades For the Lord of the Incas fears us. Out of the dizzy swaying tops We hear the look-out cry And far away we see a sail Wink in the blue of the sky. Rising lofty from the sea, Slowly we overhaul her, A galleon of Lima town, Stately, tall, and taller. In vain she shakes more canvas out, In vain she reels away And lunging through the heavy waves Throws up white flags of spray. Our bow-guns boom; her mainmast falls; And now her cannon roar. She fears us though for three of us Her captain has a score. [40] BUCCANEER She rises like a fortress wall And we so small beneath, But every man goes up her side With a cutlass in his teeth. They re the Inquisition s men, The Devil s hunting pack, But we re the sturdy dogs of Devon We drive the proud Dons back. The sun is on our swinging blades; The Dons are blind with fear. Their captain s down, their flag is struck- Ho, an English cheer! And oh the loot the Spaniards robbed From a thousand, thousand places The bullion and the silver work, The coin and yellow laces ! There s rum now for the focs l, lads, There s Tokay for the cabin, Shouting, shouting in the focs l, Singing in the cabin. ******* [41] BUCCANEER Mother shakes her paper out And father taps his chin But down the chimney shrills the wind And brings the singing in. [42] THE STARS SOME people say the stars may be Little children with golden hair Who at evening, silently, Walk from heaven a shadowy stair. Surely it is strange and chill To come down through the silences And stand so long and lean so still Over dark mountains and lost seas. Upon the earth they see the lights So far beneath the blue, blue dome And listen through the windy nights To hear the voice that calls them home. And when the night is nearly done, All the children turn away, Sadly turning, one by one, To climb into the lonely day. [43] FAIRYLAND IT happened in the fairy month of June, For fairies spend their winters in the moon But in red strawberry and cherry time They put their coats of crimson on and climb Below the stars to forests where they make The whistling in the wind, or on the lake Run down the star-paths, though we only see The twinkle where their dancing feet must be. That day the leaves were quiet, for the breeze Was tired, at last, of talking to the trees And in a far off hollow, cold and deep, Slumbered I heard him breathing in his sleep. So all the forest hushed, when first I heard The squirrels chatter, then all still. A bird Darted across the open. Next I felt That something in the hazel thicket knelt And stared at me with tiny, glittering eyes. [44] FAIRYLAND I sat up breathless, tingling with surprise To have such company. I could not see A thing, but knew somewhere he grinned at me A little man, I think, with a green hat And a red coat, and ears just like a cat, Pointed and furry. If I caught him tight He d struggle, said the book, and bite and fight But finally give up and let me choose Among seven wishes if I let him loose. So into the hazel shrubs I ran as fast As I could run, but he had always passed The place I reached, a step or two before And gone on, whispering, laughing. Yes, a score Of times I almost heard his step and twice I saw the glitter of his bright green eyes ! So at the last, all eager from the race, Breathless and panting, I came on the place Where it must live. I knew it by the brook, And the ferns and flowers had a fairy look. Among green shadows and the yellow sun The talking of the stream was never done, Whispering as though it had a tale to tell [45] FAIRYLAND To someone and so told the pimpernel, The water-lily and wild violet The same tale over, lest it should forget. I waited for the fairy, but I guess That he was somewhere in the wilderness Teaching a squirrel to say its prayers. (You know How they sit up and hold their hands just so?) He slipped away, grinning, and let me stand Shut out before the door of fairyland. It must have been the door, for I could see A water dog which lay there, watching me What seemed a water dog, but I ve no doubt That was the dragon set to keep me out. [46] THE SECRET rEY drew the blinds down, and the house was old With shadows, and so cold Filled up with shuddery silence like held breath; And when I asked, they told Me only that the quietness was death. They walked tiptoe about the house that day And turned their heads away When I was near. I watched them in surprise And quite forgot to play, Seeing them pass with wonder in their eyes. My mother came into my room that night Holding a shaded light Above my face till she was sure I slept; And I lay still with fright, Feeling her tremble and knowing that she wept. [471 THE SECRET And afterward, with no one there to see, I got up quietly And stole along the hall in my bare feet Until it seemed to me That all the air grew sorrowful and sweet. So, hardly breathing, I went down the stair In the cold, quiet air, Into the parlor, where the perfumes led. I lit my candle there And held it a long time above my head. There was an oblong box and at its base Grew lilies, in a vase As white as they. I thought them very tall In such a listening place, And they threw fearful shadows on the wall. I tiptoed to the box, then, silently, To find what death could be. But then I smiled, for it was father who Was sleeping quietly. He dreamed, I think, for he was smiling, too, [481 THE SECRET And all at once I knew death is a thing That stoops down, whispering A dear, forgotten secret in your ear Such as the winds can sing, And then you sleep, and dream, and have no fear. Perhaps the breezes tell the dream to flowers On nights of lonely hours; Perhaps we, too, could learn if we could seek The wind in his watch-towers; Perhaps the lilies knew, but could not speak. [49] Bali in From Malory s Narrative of the Dolorous Stroke. 51 BALIN S SONG TO HIS SWORD BEHOLD my lady glorious bright! Her body is of frozen light, Her face dazzles, her voice so rare Is a thrilling whisper in the air. On the battlefield she knighted me, She clad me in samite and cramoisie, She filled my purse, her abundant hand Gave me castles and lordly land. No hero has twice heard by choice The murmur of her enchanting voice. No warrior has ever dared To view her loveliness twice bared. The fruits of our wedlock are children meet With silent voices and silent feet, But each has his mother s face of light And their names are Honor and Glory bright. [53] BALIN I SOME careless pleasure-lover made the road. It stayed upon the hill in lazy curves And where the river went it wandered also, Drawn in to see the quiet of a pool Or singing waterfall, now strongly hewed Through the forest-heart, now running joyously Over the windy moor, and like the wind Sir Balin galloped on his charger grey. Ever a lordly steed ennobles man And on that horse the saddle was a throne. Like a great eagle on a tower of wind His glance was fierce, his gallop like the beat Of wings; but when he paused and raised his head, Then, then the desert which had mothered him Seemed spread before his eye. Upon a height They halted. From afar the forest rolled [541 BALIN Across the hills and at their feet it poured Through half the valley like a wave of night, And washed a foam of daisies down the meadows. Out of the solemn forest slipped a pair Of greyhounds and behind, an armored knight, His lady at his side with garments gay Fluttering like a gaudy butterfly Across the green. Furiously they spurred; Above their heads the clotted turf was tossing; They leaned into the wind, yet nothing followed, Naught in the valley lived except dumb cattle Lifting their heads to watch the fugitives. Sweeter than tidings of the hawthorn bloom That blew upon the wind, the warrior breathed Perfume of mystery and adventure strange. Now nearer drawn he saw the coat of arms Three yellow lions on a field of black; He saw the lady s hanging sleeves of blue That cupped the wind, her veil a blowing mist, The hooded hawk that wavered on her arm, And his heart leaped before he saw her face : Her beauty went before her like the breath Of unseen gardens walking through the night. Her comrade was all terrible in steel, [55] BALIN His visor shut, his quivering lance erect, Spurring a stallion of a noble race That rushed against the curb with open mouth. His honest heart was greater than his might For weight of armor and the biting spur Had sapped his power and in his stride he reeled. He skimmed the valley, but he struck the hill With laboring gallop. "He who chargeth mountains," Quoth crafty Balin, "leaveth on the slope The stallion s speed." And halfway to the top The charger staggered, shook his valiant head, And fell, pinning his rider with his weight. The maiden s cry went shrilling up the wind; The dust-cloud rolled away. "Sodroppethafool," Said Balin, "drawing on his head his folly." But hurrying to the place, he drew the knight To safety, while the girl made sad lament. Sir Balin marked them not. His soldier eye Grew dark with looking on the dying horse, A battle-steed and fit to die in battle. Meantime the fallen knight, unhelmeted, [56] BALIN Rose groaning, and Sir Balin smiled to see Above the shoulders, wide with jointed steel, The smooth face of a boy who stammered ever : "Invisible Garlon struck the noble horse. Garlon, Garlon followeth God protect us!" He cried, and trembled like the silver aspen That shudders even when the wind is still. His limbs were bruised and yet his greatest hurt Was inward of the spirit till it seemed That Garlon with a murdering lance unseen Had truly pierced him. Pity took the knight. Far off he saw himself, the youthful Balin, Riding into a friendless world; his wounds In memory ached. So turned he to the girl. Her years were barely past the dreamy verge Of girlhood; she was lovely as the dawn, Now under mist of fear. "Tell me the tale," And she obeyed, the while his heart did shrink To see her terror. She was Lady Nerys, And this was Perin, lord of Montbeliard, Her brother. Battle claimed their father s life And when the grim old warrior was gone Garlon the dreadful, Garlon the dark of fame [571 BALIN Who rode by wizardry invisible, Lusted after the meadows and the woodlands Of Montbeliard and came to Nerys, wooing. But when she scorned him, like a savage ghost He roamed the manor. One by one they found The old retainers lying in the forest Run through behind until a panic drove Their liegemen from them. So, in bitter fear Perin and Nerys rode from Montbeliard, Hounded along the way by dread of Garlon. She ended in a breaking voice, the while Her gleaming fingers cherished the tercel fierce Against her breast, and through the mournful eyes He looked into her soul, most like a child So clear a smile would cloud it and so dim The lore of ages never could attain Its meaning. And the life of Balin stopped As when a mighty tide, between the ebb And flow a moment standing, shows the stars. Out of that holy quiet Balin drew Himself by force. "In all the jongleur tales Of magic is no fellow to thy Garlon [58] BALIN He should be done in rhymes upon the harp; But I, fair lady, fear no ghostly spear. Mount thou again. Let Perin take my horse. Turn back with Balin to thy Montbeliard." Thereat the plated steel on Perin shook. "My heart is sick of Garlon. Give me sight Of daylight danger and I shall not shrink From pain and blood and the cold-cutting steel, But thought of Garlon like a secret shame Devoureth courage." But Sir Balin cheered him: "No man hath seen this Garlon work a death By mystery. The spear invisible Is but his cunning and the hood of darkness Is secret night in which he rideth soft. Courage, my friends. He slayeth lonely men, This walker of the night, but now you go With Balin. Say you?" Sharply he smote the hilt And his long blade murmured into the sheath. They looked on him in wonder, till she said : "Now quiet falleth over me, dear brother. The God of champions sendeth Balin to us." "But fear like water runneth in my blood," [591 BALIN Said Perin. "My body faileth and my spirit Is broken, Nerys, broken ! But let us go Whither thou wilt or where this knight may lead, And He who made us keep us in this peril!" So Nerys raised his spirit with gentle words And Balin helped him strongly to the saddle On the grey horse. Behold! The noble steed Which strode so fierce with Balin, tiger-strong, Now journeyed like a lady s palfrey mild, Bearing the wounded knight, or softly neighed To Balin walking by the horse of Nerys, And leading towards a chapel in the wood Far off, to rest her brother of his hurts. Sir Perin went behind. His troubled glance Rived to the cloud, then downward on the earth He watched the silent passing of its shadow Or the wind-riffles running on the grass. Those twinkling footsteps of the breezes passed With dance and glimmer like the galloping Of Garlon s soundless horse, and every whisper And every thrust of chilly evening wind Went through him like the point of Garlon s spear. [60] BALIN Meantime, through twilight forest dolorous The Lady Nerys drifted bright, her sleeves Of crimson weighed with golden apples rich, Her gown a deeper blue than evening hills. Joyous she went, forgetful of her brother, And lost in hardy Balm at her side. He stepped as light in armor as the runner Behind whose foot the crushed grass springs again; Yet more on the unvisored features dwelling, She saw them battle-worn but battle-eager, With cruel mouth and eye like a hawk s unhooded. And evermore she stared with wondering soul, For the mystery of strange lands was in his face. Each step she rode was deeper in his heart, She knew, though not how perilous that journey But now her snare for little singing birds Had trapped a falcon out of the wild wind. A yellow moon went up and turned to white, Filling the wood with magic, coiling roots Like serpents by the path and many a tree By shadow molded into winged form Of dragon, or a naked, ghostly trunk [611 BALIN With arms outstretched. Far off, a waterfall Rolled towards them on the wind with monster voice, Then stopped to listen while the travellers passed A quiet river and a field inlaid With shadow patterning on silver cold, That drifted over Lady Nerys also. So all the forest waited. Deep in mold The hoofs were soundless, and they went like ghosts In a world of death. Then wildly Perin screamed. When a hawk strikes, so in a windless sky The bird shrieks and dies midway in the sound, And Perin s voice grasped every nerve with horror. Sir Balin, whirling, saw him headlong plunge While a shadow like a charging horseman struck The ranks of trees and vanished. "Murderer!" Cried Balin, "Garlon, Garlon, one man calleth One man awaits thee ! " But he heard no answer Save his own panting as he ran. It seemed That Garlon was dissolved in phantom moon shine. [62] BALIN At length he halted, turned, and slowly followed The voice of Nerys wailing. Her he found Beside her brother. Once with belted sword And chain of gold he seemed a warlike knight; Unhelmeted now and smiling to the moon, His maiden-slender hand upturned, he looked A child, and murdered. Very like the face Of Nerys was his face ; in her he lived And in his death something of Nerys died From earth. And pitying her Sir Balin spoke: "Lady, far liefer would I see thy tears And hear thy voice breaking in fierce reproaches Than pale, pale wonder and thine empty eyes. This work of dole is mine, wherefore I vow: Balin shall be thy liegeman, thou his lady Until by me the wolfish Garlon dieth. " She answered not. He raised the body light And slowly, slowly through the wood they went. Anon, no louder than the fall of water, Drop by drop in the silence of the well, They heard the matins rung, and in the dawn They found the chapel and the man of God. From Perm s hair they washed the forest mold BALIN And lapped his body in the linen smooth And laid him deep beneath the chapel floor. Bayberry tapers burned about the grave Where Nerys watched the day and weary night Until her eyes were dull, her lips were pale. Before her stood Sir Balin. Hour by hour His head was bowed to watch the candle flames, By daylight wan as spirits, but at night Gleaming upon the folded hands of Nerys Or in her level eyes the glimmer went As far as music on still water falling. Each moment, now, she crept into his heart Farther than she had entered all the hours He journeyed by her through the pleasant wood. For beauty walks alone in crowds, with glance Fixed far away and inward joyousness. Yea, beauty is a radiance that shines Within the body like a holy fire Cupped in translucent agate. Cold with awe She held Sir Balin in her happy hour But now he found with wonder that her grief Transformed her to a woman to be loved And cherished in pain that would not waste in tears. [641 BALIN Then, as the rain, long misty grey in heaven, Brings in the evening with a whispering fall That promises a brighter sky the morrow, The Lady Nerys wept, and after slumbered. II Sir Balin walked the garden in the morning. Would she come forth all pale, with dreamy eyes Not yet returned from wandering in the world Of death with Perin? Lo, the lady came And never a shadow dwelt upon her face! They broke their fast together. The green wood Rolled by the open door; the man of God Was singing in his garden; and the knight Marvelled at Nerys singing the same song, Then Balin thought: "Already she forgets! God wot, my horse will mourn a longer time!" But when the noble chanting of the priest Was blown away and forest voices moved About them, softly, Balin saw by chance A shadow of listening fall upon her face, Whereat the knight pondered, and thus he thought : "He is not dead, and she hath not forgotten [65] BALIN But marketh him in flowers and in the morning." He said : " Whatever house will give thee shelter For honor of thy name, tell me the road. Our journey must be there." "But Garlon liveth!" "Despite his cloak of darkness I shall reach him; Now seek we rest for Nerys." But she roused, Flushing and crying: "Balin, Balin, peace Shall never come to Nerys. Every tale Of Garlon like a spear will run me through. Yea, and his black face is unknown to thee But I shall point him out." "Child, the first storm Would melt thee." "Ah, Sir Balin, where thou goest By might, be sure Nerys will learn to follow As lightly as a bubble in thy wake." He could not choose but smile, and having smiled He had no force against her. So they started. They went by hill and dale a wondrous way In solemn wilderness or twilight forest Where songs of birds out of the treetops fell And dropping among shadows told of day And the blue sky above. On many a night [66] BALIN Their beds were chilly turf; sometimes they broke The hermit s bread in silence; or they sat Among the ashes of the cottager s hut Where little naked children, brown and wild, Peered from the shadows and grinned in scared delight To see the lovely lady. Rumor led them, For wild as marsh light Garlon roved and marked His path with evil. On a day they crossed An ashen forest and a wood of oak Until they came above a valley green With meadow land. The shallow evening lay Across the pastures and the long white road, But high above the mist they saw tall towers, A goodly company going up the sky With drift of birds across them. In the shade A village huddled, but the donjon tall Still brightened with the sunset. " Listeneise ! " Cried Nerys. "Ah, my father told me tales! There is a ceiling of marble crusted with gold, Gardens filled with flowers that never bloom In other places. Black men from the east [67] BALIN Are servants, and I know a miracle! A wizard lieth in a room of gold, And on a table at his side, the spear That pierced the Savior hanging on the cross. He made all this and with a single word Can blast the stones to dust and wither the men To dead leaves in a rattling wind." Her lips Could hardly whisper such a mortal speech But her eyes rounded with delight. Then Balin : "We ride in search of Garlon, not of rooms Of gold or strong enchanters. Mark how black It stands against the sky ! " "Thou wilt not pass Old Listeneise unseen?" "I like it not. My wounds are pricking, lady." But she smiled : "Balin, strong Balin, gloomy evening cometh And the shadow of the palace standeth far Along the valley. Therefore thou art sad. Have I not seen my father, that brave man, Quake when a dog howled or the firelight cast An image at his feet?" Sternly he said: "Enough! We harbor not in Listeneise." Meantime over the hill beside the castle A rout of hunters poured, the deer hounds first, [681 BALIN Low running silhouettes, and after these On dancing horses, lady, lord and squire Over the crest against the sunset red, Then streaming into the evening mist all colors Were blurred, crimson, purple, yellow and green Like a garden under shadow. Far and faint Their voices tingled and an echo small Beat from the hollow drawbridge as they crossed. Then Balin saw the hands of Nerys folded Together at her breast, and in her eyes The tears. "Alas," she said, "the happy life!" And Balin sighed: "Ride on! Thou shalt not weep." Who then so gay as Nerys? As they rode The darkness came and in the dark they met With many a troop hurrying on Listeneise. Anon, a horn blew wildly from a tower Whereat the castle flared with sudden torches And beacons rose, and the hills rolled out of night All red, and like a blowing fire a cloud Streamed in the sky. But Nerys urged her horse, Laughing, and crying ever: "On, make on! The board is set, the king is in his place, [69] BALIN The lords and all the ladies take their chairs With shimmer of samite and with gleam of gold." Ill It was a mighty hall. The vault arose On clustered piers; a clear story shone above With myriad tapers on fretwork windows gleaming, The fretwork windows of mosaic glass, Emerald, crimson, purple, golden, blue In harmony, like sunset through a mist. Sir Balin looked yet higher to the vault, Obscure as midnight, then, a dizzy fall, Down to the banquet table set about With pigmy men. Two trains of servitors Were ever moving, antlike, one that bore The loaded dishes by dissolving clouds Of fragrance followed, and the other stream Hurried away the fragments of the feast The boar s huge skeleton with hollow ribs, The broken goblets. Many an hour that feast Had dured and still would sound, for Pellam gave it. With awe the lady pointed where he sat [70] BALIN At the long table s head. Behind him rose An apse upon whose wall a rich mosaic Pictured the Pharaonic host destroyed In tumult of the water, chariots, Ensigns, steeds of battle and warriors Rolled in confusion, and against this glory The sprawling body of the king was raised On cushions in a throne of white. His robe Of silk was also white, his face was pale And large with flesh, while in his misty eyes A light gleamed as each mighty dish arrived, Or at a drunkard s laughter, a fall of glass, Or when the nasal loure discordant whined Above the music. Neither would he speak Nor eat, but for his drink a noble page Held on a salver near the throne a cup Of sweetened water. If it chanced he pointed, Two negro mutes arose to pour the wine Of Pellam for the chosen guest a dame Who all too daintily had sipped her cup And now must quaff the goblet of the king Perforce, or youthful peer already dazed Was plunged in torpor by the royal draught. All this Sir Balin saw, but chiefly marked [711 BALIN In seats of honor two of lofty form And manner stark, each like to each in beard And eyes. They seemed to eat, they seemed to drink, But neither tasted food nor drank the wine. Anon their solemn eyes would meet and hold And slowly turn away. Beneath the twain Down the long table stretched a rich array Of robber barons and their paramours With eyes that dwelt on men as thievish hands Dwell on a purse, and like to forgers false They coined their smiles of metal base and made Them current with warm looks and velvet words Of flattery. Flowers unfragrant are not flowers And woman without modesty is not woman, Yet each of these with flashing eyes and jewels Like pooled light, came queenly on the eye, For all were fair, and all were gay, and some, Alas, were lovable. And Nerys cried: "Ah, Balin, wast thou ever under roof With such a host of noble knights and throng Of Ladies bright?" "Thou innocent, the mists Of England fade them to an angel white, [72] BALIN But at the heart, God wot, a gust of wind, A whisper of dead leaves. Now mark a song!" Three times the minstrel struck his harp. The trains Of servitors were halted; silence grew. He sang : "A true tale is proper for those who think Of saints and martyrs and men of ink But never, I wot, where goodfellows drink. "Gather a circle by tavern fires, Herbalists, pardoners, mendicant friars, Mighty drinkers, mighty liars. " The day is enough for sweating and sighing, Living, laboring, moaning, dying, So leave us the night for loving and lying. " Loud, loud they shouted in applause, Laughing in one another s eyes, the lords And ladies, but Sir Balin saw the smile Of Nerys wane. "Dear lady, let us go. I ween these damsels with their cloaks have left [731 BALIN Their sober reputations." "Nay, Sir Balin, Thou art my shield to cover me from shame." "But men are storms, my Nerys, and in thee The faint, religious light of womanhood Is like a taper they the braying wind To quench it." " Nay, thou seest, when they lift Their heads the glance of Balin chills their hearts As it hath chilled mine, many a time." "My ways Are rough, sweet child. No squire of dames am I, But for thy sake I rooted up a vow And I foreswore a quest, and who shall say If God hath marked mine unaccomplished oath? Therefore I keep thee sacred as an urn Of holy water. In thy presence, Nerys, My soul is churched, and every time you smile A sin is shrived." Murmuring into his words Music arose within a gallery, Whistling recorders, rebecs humming through The guitar-fiddles drew a snoring burden, The wild loure rang above. At Balin s side Was one who kept the rhythm with nodding head. [741 BALIN He had the shallow eye that children love And while fair Nerys dreamed into the music, Of him Sir Balin asked what were the twain Solemn and silent near the king? At that His smile went out. "They must be more than beggars, But thou, sir stranger, tell me how thou readest The mighty men sitting beside our king?" "I read them dangerous enemies," said Balin, "And dangerous friends, perchance." The anxious doubt Departed slowly. Like a frightened gossip He whispered: "Mark ye those, the lofty men, Merten and his twin brother, Dinas le Noir, Are nephews of King Pellam and the heirs To Listeneise. Age cometh on the king. Of old he kept the lists against hard riders, His drinking song hath rung above the chorus, And now, although he cannot taste the wine, He keepeth ghosts of other years alive. All day he holdeth revel and in the night Continual music murmuring lest he wake In silence. Noise of life must never stop In joust or feast or at the banquet board, [751 BALIN The fool becoming king, the king a fool. Meantime Lord Merten and black Dinas wait For death and mark the pouring of the wine, Blood from the body of their heritage. And when old Pellam dieth, God protect Fair Listeneise!" Therewith he drowned his grief In a deep cup. Meantime the feast grew wild. Thick wine of Spain or golden wine of France In goblets shook like yellow flame or red That rose and fell again. High overhead The drunken music laughed in reeling measures While the blind beast arose in every chair, That stream Of sharpening voices to the Lady Nerys Was hardly more than the dull roar of ocean, The thousand-throated; rather she beheld The gleaming board. She watched with lovely awe How the bright peacock in his feathers sat, Or fish with foolish eyes, or capons brown And gold, or fruit on moon-bright silver heaped. Till Balin, following, by a reach of mind [76] BALIN Looked far into the crystal truth of her So that her smile fell on him with a hurt Of pity for her beauty and his sins. He said: "When Garlon dies, we ride anew, But whither?" Lo, she lifted up her eyes: "Wherever Balin wills," and to the knight Her voice was like the first sweet minstrel note That silences the hall and in the silence He knew she loved him. "There is a place I know; Far south, far south the vineyards climb the hills In ranks, well-drilled. Along the plain the wheat Is taller than my sword, and overhead God hangs a bluer sky for Italy. There is the place for thee. Ay, there s the place Where the white road is tossing in the hills And the wind bringeth singing from the village. " He raised his hand as if, into his mind, The Italian quiet poured, the Italian song. Upon the passion of his warrior face The lady dreamed; she, too, had heard the music, And Balin whispered: "Nerys, in my hands Time is a treasure pouring; and yet I fear! Behold, I love thee so I think of death, [77] BALIN Thou art so spiritlike. Thou seemest one Whose journey on the dark earth is nearly ended, For dimly on thy face the light is playing." And she: "Ah, Balin, Balin, thou hast let The music flow upon thy heart and thence Re-echo into words. Tell me no more, For a great tide is setting towards thee, setting Beyond my power to stem it." While he leaned To gather every word that formed and fell On those red lips, behold, her glance was fixed As one who wakens with the nightmare great Within his eyes. She whispered: "There he stands ! He with the black face speaking to the king Garlon, and Pellam smiles!" Sir Balin looked And saw a stark man by the throne, A tall and mighty man, his body bright In crimson velvet and in purple cloaked; The value of a barony was poured In glittering jewels encrusted on his robe And when he turned, the long hilt by his side Burned sanguine red with rubies. In the throne The monster Pellam lolled indulgent towards him [781 BALIN As one awaiting stories in accord With his own mind; but him the warrior Regarded not, turning impatient eyes About the table. As the towering hawk Disdains to stoop at field mice, so his glance Hungry and scornful lingered on the faces Until it reached Sir Balin. There it stopped And their eyes clashed like thrusting blades. He spoke A word in Pellam s ear, who leaned to watch, Grinning, while Garlon stalked around the table. Meantime the Lady Nerys breathed: "Arise And bring me hence, for if he see my face There will be wicked work. Ah, swiftly, Balin!" But Balin touched her hand and in his beard He spoke: "If he escape me now our work Is wasted. If I stab him in the hall Of Pellam I am lost. The fiend advise me!" So Garlon came and bent his gloomy head. "Wherefore dost thou behold me? Eat thy food," He said, "do that thou earnest for, and keep Thy staring eyes on humbler faces, knave!" His velvet glove, brocaded heavily, [791 BALIN He struck in Balin s face, while lord and lady Suspended their bright goblets to behold, But Balin felt only the heart of Nerys Beating in fear beside him. For her sake He must endure. He raised his hand. A thread Of gold had pricked his mouth ; his fingertip Was bright with blood that seemed, in his fierce eyes To blur with crimson the hushed banqueters, And Nerys, gentle Nerys, was forgotten. "Garlon, " he said, "art thou not wolf enough To smell a death in this? Look now behind me, And see the ghost of Perin, murderer, Slayer by dark." Before he ended, bright The sword of Garlon issued and he struck In murderous silence. No firm-handed parry Could turn the bent of that prodigious stroke But Balin slipped aside as a dead leaf Avoids the beating hand. Beside him poured The solid flash of the descending steel That struck the chair and shattered it. The blade Was lodged in massy oak; no wise it skilled Sir Garlon that he strained far back and shrieked [80] BALIN At the flash and silver brightness of the death That balanced now upon the blade of Balin, Then slid into his bosom. Loosely he fell, And falling snapped the sword-blade at the hilt And lay immense and shapeless on the floor. Quiet of midnight came, and every face A midnight ghost. The music stopped, but seemed Far off, still playing, and the servitors In mid-step hung. The lady paused half -risen, Like the graceful reed bowed in the steady wind Above his wineglass with enormous eyes The drunkard stared, and the wild jester s laugh To horror froze. The ring of the breaking sword Hummed to a distance and was still the spell At once dissolved. The lady veiled her eyes, The drunkard spilled his wine, the jester shrieked And rising from his throne with shining robes Of white about him blowing, Pellam ran With a grim weapon caught above his head. "Vengeance is mine!" he cried. "No other strike!" Then Balin cast away the unbalanced pommel, [81] BALIN Gathered the face of Nerys to his heart With a last look, and fled. IV First to the door Through which he entered Balin ran, but lo, Before his coming the lofty panels wheeled Together. In their midst he cast his weight And the stout oak shuddered and flung him back Under the sway of Pellam s sword. He veered Like a dust-column in a pool of wind. Tumult poured through the hall, with flash of steel And rush of color save where Dinas sat, And Merten, the dark brothers, all unmoved. Yet in the outcry and the gleam of weapons A path opened to Balin to a door Guarded by snarling lions in red stone. Through this he sprang. Behind, the sea of noise Which washed from wall to wall of the banquet- room Roared far away, but ever Pellam came With jarring footfall. [821 BALIN Then a poniard small Had been a treasure in Sir Balin s hand While through chambers of whispering tapestries He rushed, and halls of rich mosaic work Like precious jewels inlaid. By seven kings Old Listeneise was builded. Seven times The treasures of a generation drained And stored by kings; as milk-white hands may drop Among the shadows of the jewel-casket Emeralds, bleeding rubies, liquid drops Of moonlight men call pearls so kingly hands In Listeneise dropped treasure. Under foot Of Balin lights in polished marble lived As stars in black, black water. On each side The placid statues looked upon his flight; The hero frowned, the bearded thinker pondered, The nymph gathered her icy robes and smiled. He saw her as a dream, and all the wealth Poured past him like a vision. Only the voice Of Pellam thundering, the rushing feet And the deadly emptiness of his hands was real. Far through a crooked corridor he fled Up to a bolted oaken door with script [831 BALIN Of antique Latin legended. That way Was closed, and fierce behind the mountain-bulk Of Pellam came full lightly with his beard Divided by the wind of running. Rage Had nerved him; glorying he came and swung The long blade at a balance for the stroke. Behind was many a silken, hurrying foot And overhead, like sparks blown from his cloak, Poniard and falchion gleamed in the dim hall. Anguish got hold on Balin, for he thought Of stalwart warriors talking at their wine Of battle-glory and of battle-death In the open field, but famous Balin stabbed Like a poisonous rat and thrown out to the wolves Without the rites of burial, the priest In sable and the holy candles wan Which light the way to heaven. Out of grief Came goodly might. He seized the latch and heard The groan of iron, the rending of stout oak The door flew wide. It showed a marvel rare, A noble room with the green samite hung [841 BALIN And golden fringes deep. Upon a bed Lay one with fleshless hands and shadow eyes. A silver table shone on either side With Persian fretwork delicate. The one A lighted taper bore that touched with yellow The curtain-folds and glimmered on the fringe; The other raised a vase of midnight blue, The lapis lazuli with gold enwrought, And a spear leaned beside it, short of haft, Ponderous. That he seized and from his heart Gave up deep thanks. Curiously the shaft Was weighted, overlaid from butt to head With golden figures moving in a frieze That twisted scrollwise. Little heed he gave To that mysterious processional For now King Pellam, shouting, passed the door And Balin smote the hollow of his throat Through flesh and sinew, choking the deep shriek With which he fell and died, and all the throng With shouts that set the corridor bellowing Rushed to avenge their king. No fear was thine, O Balin, in that hour of dread. Thy heel Was based on Pellam s breast; thy dripping spear [85] BALIN Tugged forth thou shookest high and cast the spray Of crimson in their faces pale. They shrank As though before a blinding thunderbolt, Crying: "The lance that pierced the Lord the spear That slew the Christ!" Up the storm-blackened cliff So roars the wave, then falls away in whispers The solid light of weapons split apart, The quivering swords fell down. Behold, they kneeled And watched and spoke not. Deadly silence held The castle save the breathing of the wind Far off, and evermore the living eyes And the dead face of him upon the bed Were pouring fear on Balin till he fled As armies flee at night blind through the crowd And blindly through the palace till he reached An outer court and, crossing, climbed the wall Above the moat. Thereby the panic left his brain For he saw the distant shining of the stars And looking down their images lay cold [86] BALIN And quiet in the water. The wall was high, Narrow the moat, and in the perilous leap His safety hung. Meantime the court gave voice Below where the pursuit was flooding thick And the wild torchlight darted upon spear And helmet-spike, and in the lofty night At the red casements shadows flickering That shook their weapons at him. Into the court He flung the spear and saw the clamoring throng Close over it like wolves over the dead, Yelling, and Balin turned him for his leap. Two memories stood beside him: Lady Nerys, And that great day of battle when his lance Had slain a king whose fall destroyed a host And with those memories making great his heart He sprang, a dizzy fall that blurred the stars, Clove through the cold black water, and crushed his side Upon the rocks beneath. With feeble arms, Wavering and slowly Balin rose and lay Among the surface slime. There, gasping deep, He drank the blessed air. Meantime the wall [871 BALIN Was crested by a multitude of lights And voices calling, but anon they left The water to give up its dead by day. The torches dwindled from the height; he heard No sound except the far off mustering Of men. The quavering chorus of the frogs At last began, and night closed placidly. Then Balin dragged him from the slime in pain And like a reptile crushed in half its length He labored down the slope until he came Between two houses. One was tall and proud And one a hut, but through its open door The hearthlight stepped a pace into the night. Sir Balin thought: "This man hath many a place To hide me, but his place is built aloft And every day he tremble th for his fall. Yonder is one whose back hath felt the whip; He will be tender unto pain." He went With straining shoulders. In the muddy yard The swine came, grunting, and a trembling cur [88] BALIN Sniffed at his wound, and whined. He reached the door And saw the family squatting on the earth, A sire with forelock dropping past his eyes, A mother famine thin, and three tall sons, A mighty growth out of so meager soil. A pot smoked in their midst and in its depths They reached in hungry silence till the crone Saw Balin and cried out. Thereat they shrank And the five shadows melted on the wall Into one quivering monster. Feebly spoke Sir Balin, for the bleeding drained his life: "Comrades, I flee the king and die. Give help In Jesus name!" Alas, through tangled hair Their eyes glittered; the shadow on the wall Grew thick as a bunched spider. Then arose The eldest son. He was a man of mark. His form was large, his brow was wide and calm, He had an eye that glanced into the mind; He stood as in a marsh of rotted shrubs One soundly rooted tree. "My lord, what strength Have we to shield thee? Turn ye otherwhere." Now weakness took Sir Balin. On his ear [89] BALIN Their voices dropped in murmurs and the fire Became a star shining through rosy mist. Still through the gathering gloom he saw that face Wherein the spirit rose. To him he cried, Putting his fortune in the single cast: "Come to me, lad, I bleed!" Lo, through the dark That noble youth drew near, and Balin felt Strong hands. Then all the light went out. Relay In sleepy madness of delirium With visions of young Nerys by the hands Of foes beset, or of a nightmare world Of mighty falling cities, towers and walls That melted in a storm of cries. He woke. The hand he raised was thin. The beard he touched Was wild. Sure he had wandered long in sleep For he was weak and to himself was strange, And as a brook may fill a forest old With voices, so a thought possessed him ever Of Nerys melancholy, Nerys lost. [90] BALIN The woman of the hovel gave him food. He saw a wonder thing, that while he slept Her hair had blanched and that her lips were locked. Even when he questioned why her sons and spouse Remained so long away, her very eyes Were dumb; and all the days they spent in silence. The town was silent also. Never a horn Blew from the castle nor wains moved in the street Nor busy voices traded all the day. At eventime cross-legged in the door The woman sat, first looking to the height Then down upon the valley till he asked What things she saw and how the misty night Was drifting over yellow harvest fields And wherefore neither cattle lowed nor cocks Were crowing from the barnyard. She was silent. He dragged him with long labor to the door. Behold! the donjon keep and solid towers Of Listeneise were vanished from the sky. A granite lintel vast lay near the hut [91] BALIN And a huge rubble of fire-blackened stone Rolled down the hill and washed across the town Where ruins were pitched headlong at the feet Of standing skeletons. For nothing lived, And all the valley, all the autumn bronze Of grain and flush of orchards ripe was dust Of ashes. Then the woman spoke. She told How Merten and black Dinas by the stroke That slew the king were loosed upon the realm, Gathering armies; so her men were taken, And the princes battled across Listeneise. Each what he could not hold would fain destroy, Trailing in his retreat a screen of fire, Then, rallied to some desperate night assault The fugitive became the conqueror, And the combatants roved, marking their steps with flame s Of villages, field, and forest. While she talked He saw pale smoke against the far horizon And bowed his heart, for every column white That melted in the sky rose from the death Of Pellam. God assoil him of that sin! [92] BALIN By small degrees and slow his strength returned. Upon a day it chanced, roving afield, He came upon the ruins of a home Whereby a charger mourned, a lofty steed Black as midnight, saddled and trapped for war. Haply he left his master on the field Of battle and now waited for his voice In the old place. He came to Balin s hand And the knight took him as a sign from God. He found in ruined Listeneise a store Of armor rusted thin, a battered shield, A shapeless helmet dinted by many a blow, And having clad himself in tarnished mail Mounted the horse and bade the crone farewell. But she, looking beyond, where Listeneise Was crumbling, nodded and muttered to herself And heard him not. Thereat he loosed the reins And the black horse ran freely down the valley. VI He went as straight as birds out of the north Winging to summer lands, for now he rode To keep a tryst, knowing where Nerys waited. [93] BALIN He went with ashes blowing from the fields Upon him. In the empty eventide The smoke of pillage wavered spirit-thin Across the coming stars, and on the road Were solitary ancients with their staffs Or women with starved children at their skirts Drew back and watched the armored man in fear; And all of this came from the death of Pellam. If God beheld the deeds of man, in truth A curse must follow! Glad he was to pass From Listeneise into the wilderness Until he reached the chapel at the crossing Where Perin slept. Here Nerys keepeth tryst, Be sure ! The priest was singing in the garden But seeing Balin, cast aloft his arms: "Ah, Jesus, mercy, are the dead arisen?" " Good father, she is here ! " " Yea, brother, yea, She lieth here." Loudly Sir Balin laughed. "Ye saints behold me. Priest, look up! I vow A noble abbey in this place shall rise And thou the father abbot. Ah, my heart ! " Therewith he ran, and bursting wide the doors [941 BALIN A wind behind him entered with dead leaves. And Balin crying: "Nerys, my Lady Nerys ! r Out of the sudden silence of the chapel An echo struck at him, and from his niche The saint with downward eyes and praying hands Commanded quiet. Then he saw a grave Where seven bayberry candles lately burned, But with the wind of Balin s coming dead, From every candle rose a ghost of white And went among the shadows of the dome Like seven thoughts between the day and night. A fragrance from the tapers grew, no breath Of churchly incense meaning burial But earthly pure and perfume of the earth When after rain a blessed scent of life Goes up from whispering lawns that still are drinking, Cold wild flowers and the hawthorn hedges wet. Then Balin groaned and stretched his empty hands For now, behold the pallid candle-smoke Attending her like seven prayers to heaven And he was left below. Nay, in his thought She stood behind him and with aching heart [95] BALIN He listened to a pause and stir of breath Until, in agony, he dared not turn. Something of her was near but oceans broad Between them mourned and cold infinity Of stars. So God had judged him. Then he rose. He left the chapel, he saw the garden bloom And the naked autumn forest piled in mist Glorious with morning like his lady s face. The white road gleamed upon the distant hills Where they had ridden together. Yonder lark That whistled in the sky, lo, how her eyes Went up to follow it ! Let this be known, That God gives wisdom to the comforter. The gentle priest spoke not of mortal change And common destiny, but like a child He told how Nerys came, a weary woman, And neither bread she ate nor wine she drank But water only from the holy well. Ever she murmured: "Father, he is dead For me that was the salt and savor of life; Balin is dead, and for him I shall die." He told her, weeping, this was mortal sin, [961 BALIN But then she smiled and raised her hand as one Lessoning a child. "Dear father, every day The Lord poureth His will upon the world; Sorrow unlocked my heart and let the rain Of quiet enter. Foolish man, be sure I heard the wish of God." And so she reached A twilight, wasting slowly. At the end She felt those arms about her that are death And took a waxen taper from his hand And as she died, raised it as though to light Her first step in the dark. VII All day he kept A vigil in the pleasant garden walks. At night the stars looked through the naked forest And he was open to the cold eyes of God. He thought in vain of glories old, and praise. The horns that sounded once on famous fields Blew thin and far. The knights in noble ranks Rode shadowlike upon his memory. Nerys was dead, and through his fingers poured His life, loose sand. [97] BALIN About the middle hour Of night the moon arose. It made the woods Both tall and black and through the forest went A white road, winding. Then Sir Balin mounted And the good priest beheld him take the way And follow it over the eastern-hill Where the road vanished in a silver mist. [98] UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY BERKELEY Return to desk from which borrowed. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. JUN 15 25Apr 49TJ 14/956 LD 0C 1 4 196 OF CALIF.. B LD 21-100m-9, 47(A5702sl6)476 02669 480023 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY