Chapter 8

And this tattered coat is now for a sign That thou hast won me to be thine.

Now wilt thou lead along thy maid To meet thy kindred unafraid."

As stoops the falcon on the dove He cast himself about her love.

He kissed her over, cheek and chin, He kissed the sweetness of her skin.

Then hand in hand they went their way Till the wood grew light with the outer day.

At last behind them lies the wood, And before are the Upland Acres good.

On the hill's brow awhile they stay At midmorn of the merry day.

He sheareth a deal from his kirtle meet, To make her sandals for her feet.

He windeth a wreath of the beechen tree, Lest men her shining shoulders see.

And a wreath of woodbine sweet, to hide The rended raiment of her side;

And a crown of poppies red as wine, Lest on her head the hot sun shine.

She kissed her love withal and smiled: "Lead forth, O love, the Woodland Child!

Most meet and right meseems it now That I am clad with the woodland bough.

For betwixt the oak-tree and the thorn Meseemeth erewhile was I born.

And if my mother aught I knew, It was of the woodland folk she grew.

And O that thou art well at ease To wed the daughter of the trees!"

Now Goldilocks and Goldilocks Go down amidst the wheaten shocks,

But when anigh to the town they come, Lo there is the wain a-wending home,

And many a man and maid beside, Who tossed the sickles up, and cried:

"O Goldilocks, now whither away? And what wilt thou with the woodland may?"

"O this is Goldilocks my bride, And we come adown from the wild-wood side,

And unto the Fathers' House we wend To dwell therein till life shall end."

"Up then on the wain, that ye may see From afar how thy mother bideth thee.

That ye may see how kith and kin Abide thee, bridal brave to win."

So Goldilocks and Goldilocks Sit high aloft on the wheaten shocks,

And fair maids sing before the wain, For all of Goldilocks are fain.

But when they came to the Fathers' door, There stood his mother old and hoar.

Yet was her hair with grey but blent, When forth from the Upland Town he went.

There by the door his sisters stood: Full fair they were and fresh of blood;

Little they were when he went away; Now each is meet for a young man's may.

"O tell me, Goldilocks, my son, What are the deeds that thou hast done?"

"I have wooed me a wife in the forest wild, And home I bring the Woodland Child."

"A little deed to do, O son, So long a while as thou wert gone."

"O mother, yet is the summer here Now I bring aback my true-love dear.

And therewith an Evil Thing have I slain; Yet I come with the first-come harvest-wain."

"O Goldilocks, my son, my son! How good is the deed that thou hast done?

But how long the time that is worn away! Lo! white is my hair that was but grey.

And lo these sisters here, thine own, How tall, how meet for men-folk grown!

Come, see thy kin in the feasting-hall, And tell me if thou knowest them all!

O son, O son, we are blithe and fain; But the autumn drought, and the winter rain,

The frost and the snow, and St. David's wind, All these that were, time out of mind,

All these a many times have been Since thou the Upland Town hast seen."

Then never a word spake Goldilocks Till they came adown from the wheaten shocks.

And there beside his love he stood And he saw her body sweet and good.

Then round her love his arms he cast: "The years are as a tale gone past.

But many the years that yet shall be Of the merry tale of thee and me.

Come, love, and look on the Fathers' Hall, And the folk of the kindred one and all!

For now the Fathers' House is kind, And all the ill is left behind.

And Goldilocks and Goldilocks Shall dwell in the land of the Wheaten Shocks."

LOVE IS ENOUGH

OR

THE FREEING OF PHARAMOND

_DRAMATIS PERSONAE_

GILES, } _Peasant-folk._ JOAN, _his Wife_, }

THE EMPEROR.

THE EMPRESS.

THE MAYOR.

A COUNCILLOR.

MASTER OLIVER, _King Pharamond's Foster-father_.

A NORTHERN LORD.

KING PHARAMOND.

AZALAIS, _his Love_.

KING THEOBALD.

HONORIUS, _the Councillor_.

LOVE.

LOVE IS ENOUGH

ARGUMENT

This story, which is told by way of a morality set before an Emperor and Empress newly wedded, showeth of a King whom nothing but Love might satisfy, who left all to seek Love, and, having found it, found this also, that he had enough, though he lacked all else.

_In the streets of a great town where the people are gathered together thronging to see the Emperor and Empress pass_.

GILES

Look long, Joan, while I hold you so, For the silver trumpets come arow.

JOAN

O the sweet sound! the glorious sight! O Giles, Giles, see this glittering Knight!

GILES

Nay 'tis the Marshalls'-sergeant, sweet-- --Hold, neighbour, let me keep my feet!-- There, now your head is up again; Thus held up have you aught of pain?

JOAN

Nay, clear I see, and well at ease! God's body! what fair Kings be these?

GILES

The Emperor's chamberlains, behold Their silver shoes and staves of gold. Look, look! how like some heaven come down The maidens go with girded gown!

JOAN

Yea, yea, and this last row of them Draw up their kirtles by the hem, And scatter roses e'en like those About my father's garden-close.

GILES

Ah! have I hurt you? See the girls Whose slim hands scatter very pearls.

JOAN

Hold me fast, Giles! here comes one Whose raiment flashes down the sun.

GILES

O sweet mouth! O fair lids cast down! O white brow! O the crown, the crown!

JOAN

How near! if nigher I might stand By one ell, I could touch his hand.

GILES

Look, Joan! if on this side she were Almost my hand might touch her hair.

JOAN

Ah me! what is she thinking on?

GILES

Is he content now all is won?

JOAN

And does she think as I thought, when Betwixt the dancing maids and men, Twixt the porch rose-boughs blossomed red I saw the roses on my bed?

GILES

Hath he such fear within his heart As I had, when the wind did part The jasmine-leaves, and there within The new-lit taper glimmered thin?

THE MUSIC

(As the EMPEROR and EMPRESS enter.)

_LOVE IS ENOUGH; though the World be a-waning And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining, Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder; Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder, And this day draw a veil over all deeds passed over, Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter, The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover._

THE EMPEROR

The spears flashed by me, and the swords swept round, And in war's hopeless tangle was I bound, But straw and stubble were the cold points found, For still thy hands led down the weary way.

THE EMPRESS

Through hall and street they led me as a queen, They looked to see me proud and cold of mien, I heeded not though all my tears were seen, For still I dreamed of thee throughout the day.

THE EMPEROR

Wild over bow and bulwark swept the sea Unto the iron coast upon our lee, Like painted cloth its fury was to me, For still thy hands led down the weary way.

THE EMPRESS

They spoke to me of war within the land, They bade me sign defiance and command; I heeded not though thy name left my hand, For still I dreamed of thee throughout the day.

THE EMPEROR

But now that I am come, and side by side We go, and men cry gladly on the bride And tremble at the image of my pride, Where is thy hand to lead me down the way?

THE EMPRESS

But now that thou art come, and heaven and earth Are laughing in the fulness of their mirth, A shame I knew not in my heart has birth-- --Draw me through dreams unto the end of day!

THE EMPEROR

Behold, behold, how weak my heart is grown Now all the heat of its desire is known! Pearl beyond price I fear to call mine own, Where is thy hand to lead me down the way?

THE EMPRESS

Behold, behold, how little I may move! Think in thy heart how terrible is Love, O thou who know'st my soul as God above-- --Draw me through dreams unto the end of day!

_The stage for the play in another part of the street, and the people thronging all about_.

GILES

Here, Joan, this is so good a place 'Tis worth the scramble and the race! There is the Empress just sat down, Her white hands on her golden gown, While yet the Emperor stands to hear The welcome of the bald-head Mayor Unto the show; and you shall see The player-folk come in presently. The king of whom is e'en that one, Who wandering but a while agone Stumbled upon our harvest-home That August when you might not come. Betwixt the stubble and the grass Great mirth indeed he brought to pass. But liefer were I to have seen Your nimble feet tread down the green In threesome dance to pipe and fife.

JOAN

Thou art a dear thing to my life, And nought good have I far to seek-- But hearken! for the Mayor will speak.

THE MAYOR

Since your grace bids me speak without stint or sparing A thing little splendid I pray you to see: Early is the day yet, for we near the dawning Drew on chains dear-bought, and gowns done with gold; So may ye high ones hearken an hour A tale that our hearts hold worthy and good, Of Pharamond the Freed, who, a king feared and honoured, Fled away to find love from his crown and his folk. E'en as I tell of it somewhat I tremble Lest we, fearful of treason to the love that fulfils you, Should seem to make little of the love that ye give us, Of your lives full of glory, of the deeds that your lifetime Shall gleam with for ever when we are forgotten. Forgive it for the greatness of that Love who compels us.-- Hark! in the minster-tower minish the joy-bells, And all men are hushed now these marvels to hear.

THE EMPEROR (_to the MAYOR_)

We thank your love, that sees our love indeed Toward you, toward Love, toward life of toil and need: We shall not falter though your poet sings Of all defeat, strewing the crowns of kings About the thorny ways where Love doth wend, Because we know us faithful to the end Toward you, toward Love, toward life of war and deed, And well we deem your tale shall help our need.

(_To the EMPRESS_)

So many hours to pass before the sun Shall blush ere sleeping, and the day be done! How thinkest thou, my sweet, shall such a tale For lengthening or for shortening them avail?

THE EMPRESS

Nay, dreamland has no clocks the wise ones say, And while our hands move at the break of day We dream of years: and I am dreaming still And need no change my cup of joy to fill: Let them say on, and I shall hear thy voice Telling the tale, and in its love rejoice.

THE MUSIC

(As the singers enter and stand before the curtain, the player-king and player-maiden in the midst.)

_LOVE IS ENOUGH: have no thought for to-morrow If ye lie down this even in rest from your pain, Ye who have paid for your bliss with great sorrow: For as it was once so it shall be again. Ye shall cry out for death as ye stretch forth in vain.

Feeble hands to the hands that would help but they may not, Cry out to deaf ears that would hear if they could; Till again shall the change come, and words your lips say not Your hearts make all plain in the best wise they would And the world ye thought waning is glorious and good:

And no morning now mocks you and no nightfall is weary, The plains are not empty of song and of deed: The sea strayeth not, nor the mountains are dreary; The wind is not helpless for any man's need, Nor falleth the rain but for thistle and weed.

O surely this morning all sorrow is hidden, All battle is hushed for this even at least; And no one this noontide may hunger, unbidden To the flowers and the singing and the joy of your feast Where silent ye sit midst the world's tale increased.

Lo, the lovers unloved that draw nigh for your blessing! For your tale makes the dreaming whereby yet they live The dreams of the day with their hopes of redressing, The dreams of the night with the kisses they give, The dreams of the dawn wherein death and hope strive.

Ah, what shall we say then, but that earth threatened often Shall live on for ever that such things may be, That the dry seed shall quicken, the hard earth shall soften, And the spring-bearing birds flutter north o'er the sea, That earth's garden may bloom round my love's feet and me?_

THE EMPEROR

Lo you, my sweet, fair folk are one and all And with good grace their broidered robes do fall, And sweet they sing indeed: but he, the King, Look but a little how his fingers cling To her's, his love that shall be in the play-- His love that hath been surely ere to-day: And see, her wide soft eyes cast down at whiles Are opened not to note the people's smiles But her love's lips, and dreamily they stare As though they sought the happy country, where They two shall be alone, and the world dead.

THE EMPRESS

Most faithful eyes indeed look from the head The sun has burnt, and wind and rain has beat, Well may he find her slim brown fingers sweet. And he--methinks he trembles, lest he find That song of his not wholly to her mind. Note how his grey eyes look askance to see Her bosom heaving with the melody His heart loves well: rough with the wind and rain His cheek is, hollow with some ancient pain; The sun has burned and blanched his crispy hair, And over him hath swept a world of care And left him careless, rugged, and her own; Still fresh desired, still strange and new, though known.

THE EMPEROR

His eyes seem dreaming of the mysteries Deep in the depths of her familiar eyes, Tormenting and alluring; does he dream, As I ofttime this morn, how they would seem Loved but unloving?--Nay the world's too sweet That we the ghost of such a pain should meet-- Behold, she goes, and he too, turning round, Remembers that his love must yet be found, That he is King and loveless in this story Wrought long ago for some dead poet's glory.

[_Exeunt players behind the curtain_.

_Enter before the curtain LOVE crowned as a King_.

LOVE

All hail, my servants! tremble ye, my foes! A hope for these I have, a fear for those Hid in this tale of Pharamond the Freed. To-day, my Faithful, nought shall be your need Of tears compassionate:--although full oft The crown of love laid on my bosom soft Be woven of bitter death and deathless fame, Bethorned with woe, and fruited thick with shame. --This for the mighty of my courts I keep, Lest through the world there should be none to weep Except for sordid loss; and not to gain But satiate pleasure making mock of pain. --Yea, in the heaven from whence my dreams go forth Are stored the signs that make the world of worth: There is the wavering wall of mighty Troy About my Helen's hope and Paris' joy: There lying neath the fresh dyed mulberry-tree The sword and cloth of Pyramus I see: There is the number of the joyless days Wherein Medea won no love nor praise: There is the sand my Ariadne pressed; The footprints of the feet that knew no rest While o'er the sea forth went the fatal sign: The asp of Egypt, the Numidian wine, My Sigurd's sword, my Brynhild's fiery bed, The tale of years of Gudrun's drearihead, And Tristram's glaive, and Iseult's shriek are here, And cloister-gown of joyless Guenevere.

Save you, my Faithful! how your loving eyes Grow soft and gleam with all these memories! But on this day my crown is not of death: My fire-tipped arrows, and my kindling breath Are all the weapons I shall need to-day. Nor shall my tale in measured cadence play About the golden lyre of Gods long gone, Nor dim and doubtful 'twixt the ocean's moan Wail out about the Northern fiddle-bow, Stammering with pride or quivering shrill with woe. Rather caught up at hazard is the pipe That mixed with scent of roses over ripe, And murmur of the summer afternoon, May charm you somewhat with its wavering tune 'Twixt joy and sadness: whatsoe'er it saith, I know at least there breathes through it my breath

OF PHARAMOND THE FREED

_Scene: In the Kings Chamber of Audience.

MASTER OLIVER and many LORDS and COUNCILLORS_.

A COUNCILLOR

Fair Master Oliver, thou who at all times Mayst open thy heart to our lord and master, Tell us what tidings thou hast to deliver; For our hearts are grown heavy, and where shall we turn to If thus the king's glory, our gain and salvation, Must go down the wind amid gloom and despairing?

MASTER OLIVER

Little may be looked for, fair lords, in my story, To lighten your hearts of the load lying on them. For nine days the king hath slept not an hour, And taketh no heed of soft words or beseeching. Yea, look you, my lords, if a body late dead In the lips and the cheeks should gain some little colour, And arise and wend forth with no change in the eyes, And wander about as if seeking its soul-- Lo, e'en so sad is my lord and my master; Yea, e'en so far hath his soul drifted from us.

A COUNCILLOR

What say the leeches? Is all their skill left them?

MASTER OLIVER

Nay, they bade lead him to hunt and to tilting, To set him on high in the throne of his honour To judge heavy deeds: bade him handle the tiller, And drive through the sea with the wind at its wildest; All things he was wont to hold kingly and good. So we led out his steed and he straight leapt upon him With no word, and no looking to right nor to left, And into the forest we fared as aforetime: Fast on the king followed, and cheered without stinting The hounds to the strife till the bear stood at bay; Then there he alone by the beech-trees alighted; Barehanded, unarmoured, he handled the spear-shaft, And blew up the death on the horn of his father; Yet still in his eyes was no look of rejoicing, And no life in his lips; but I likened him rather To King Nimrod carved fair on the back of the high-seat When the candles are dying, and the high moon is streaming Through window and luffer white on the lone pavement Whence the guests are departed in the hall of the palace.-- --Rode we home heavily, he with his rein loose, Feet hanging free from the stirrups, and staring At a clot of the bear's blood that stained his green kirtle;-- Unkingly, unhappy, he rode his ways homeward.

A COUNCILLOR

Was this all ye tried, or have ye more tidings? For the wall tottereth not at first stroke of the ram.

MASTER OLIVER

Nay, we brought him a-board the Great Dragon one dawning, When the cold bay was flecked with the crests of white billows And the clouds lay alow on the earth and the sea; He looked not aloft as they hoisted the sail, But with hand on the tiller hallooed to the shipmen In a voice grown so strange, that it scarce had seemed stranger If from the ship Argo, in seemly wise woven On the guard-chamber hangings, some early grey dawning Great Jason had cried, and his golden locks wavered. Then e'en as the oars ran outboard, and dashed In the wind-scattered foam and the sails bellied out, His hand dropped from the tiller, and with feet all uncertain And dull eye he wended him down to the midship, And gazing about for the place of the gangway Made for the gate of the bulwark half open, And stood there and stared at the swallowing sea, Then turned, and uncertain went wandering back sternward, And sat down on the deck by the side of the helmsman, Wrapt in dreams of despair; so I bade them turn shoreward, And slowly he rose as the side grated stoutly 'Gainst the stones of the quay and they cast forth the hawser.-- Unkingly, unhappy, he went his ways homeward.

A COUNCILLOR

But by other ways yet had thy wisdom to travel; How else did ye work for the winning him peace?

MASTER OLIVER

We bade gather the knights for the goodliest tilting, There the ladies went lightly in glorious array; In the old arms we armed him whose dints well he knew That the night dew had dulled and the sea salt had sullied: On the old roan yet sturdy we set him astride; So he stretched forth his hand to lay hold of the spear Neither laughing nor frowning, as lightly his wont was When the knights are awaiting the voice of the trumpet. It awoke, and back beaten from barrier to barrier Was caught up by knights' cries, by the cry of the king.-- --Such a cry as red Mars in the Council-room window May awake with some noon when the last horn is winded, And the bones of the world are dashed grinding together. So it seemed to my heart, and a horror came o'er me, As the spears met, and splinters flew high o'er the field, And I saw the king stay when his course was at swiftest, His horse straining hard on the bit, and he standing Stiff and stark in his stirrups, his spear held by the midmost, His helm cast a-back, his teeth set hard together; E'en as one might, who, riding to heaven, feels round him The devils unseen: then he raised up the spear As to cast it away, but therewith failed his fury, He dropped it, and faintly sank back in the saddle, And, turning his horse from the press and the turmoil, Came sighing to me, and sore grieving I took him And led him away, while the lists were fallen silent As a fight in a dream that the light breaketh through.-- To the tune of the clinking of his fight-honoured armour Unkingly, unhappy, he went his ways homeward.

A COUNCILLOR

What thing worse than the worst in the budget yet lieth?

MASTER OLIVER

To the high court we brought him, and bade him to hearken The pleading of his people, and pass sentence on evil. His face changed with great pain, and his brow grew all furrowed, As a grim tale was told there of the griefs of the lowly; Till he took up the word, mid the trembling of tyrants, As his calm voice and cold wrought death on ill doers-- --E'en so might King Minos in marble there carven Mid old dreaming of Crete give doom on the dead, When the world and its deeds are dead too and buried.-- But lo, as I looked, his clenched hands were loosened, His lips grew all soft, and his eyes were beholding Strange things we beheld not about and above him. So he sat for a while, and then swept his robe round him And arose and departed, not heeding his people, The strange looks, the peering, the rustle and whisper; But or ever he gained the gate that gave streetward, Dull were his eyes grown, his feet were grown heavy, His lips crooned complaining, as onward he stumbled;-- Unhappy, unkingly, he went his ways homeward.

A COUNCILLOR

Is all striving over then, fair Master Oliver?

MASTER OLIVER

All mine, lords, for ever! help who may help henceforth I am but helpless: too surely meseemeth He seeth me not, and knoweth no more Me that have loved him. Woe worth the while, Pharamond, That men should love aught, love always as I loved! Mother and sister and the sweetling that scorned me, The wind of the autumn-tide over them sweepeth, All are departed, but this one, the dear one-- I should die or he died and be no more alone, But God's hatred hangs round me, and the life and the glory That grew with my waning life fade now before it, And leaving no pity depart through the void.

A COUNCILLOR

This is a sight full sorry to see These tears of an elder! But soft now, one cometh.

MASTER OLIVER

The feet of the king: will ye speak or begone?

A NORTHERN LORD

I will speak at the least, whoever keeps silence, For well it may be that the voice of a stranger Shall break through his dreaming better than thine; And lo now a word in my mouth is a-coming, That the king well may hearken: how sayst thou, fair master, Whose name now I mind not, wilt thou have me essay it?

MASTER OLIVER

Try whatso thou wilt, things may not be worser. [_Enter KING._ Behold, how he cometh weighed down by his woe!

(_To the KING_)

All hail, lord and master! wilt thou hearken a little These lords high in honour whose hearts are full heavy Because thy heart sickeneth and knoweth no joy?--

(_To the COUNCILLORS_)

Ah, see you! all silent, his eyes set and dreary, His lips moving a little--how may I behold it?

THE NORTHERN LORD