Page:Once a Week Volume 5.djvu/19

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But, looking up, and seeing a goodly knight.
She blushed, and bent her head, and plucked a flower;
Then, gathering strength, she spoke to him, and said:
"O art thou one of those who yester-eve
Slew my dear father and my brethren seven.
And wasted all our lands with fire and sword?"

To which the king: "Alas! most desolate maid!
Whose beauty seems as peerless as the skies;
Whose sorrows are as early flowers which droop
When frost-charms glitter in their chilly eyes;
Were these the chances strange which drove thee here
All unattended, save by this sad steed?"

Then, looking up to him, she said: "Fair knight!
Thy voice is soft, and low, and free from guile;
Thy eyes seem full of pity to behold
How I have fallen from my good estate;
For hither fled I through the weary night.
My purpose to escape these savage men,
And come to Guinevere at Camelot;
For then, indeed, some noble knight, intent
On deeds of valour, might adventure forth.
And re-instate me and my sisters dear.
Who how are held in bondage by our foes."

To which, with eager gladness, said the king:
"Gather thy garments round thee: dry thy tears:
Mount thy good steed, and lead me to the place.
For never yet adventure have I had
So full of wonder, and of promise too;
My heart feels younger, fresh blood through my brains
Rolls madly like a river in the spring;
Now through my mind there ever come and go
Dim visions which the magic mirror threw
When Merlin showed me all my life to be
Stretched out before us like a landscape fair;
Then felt I as I now feel—never man
Was moved so much, if the intent were small."

Now high in heaven the lark sang clear and shrill,
While these twain wandered in the trackless woods;
And ever as they went upon their way.
In soft sweet syllables she told him all.
While on her face he looked, and she on his.
And like the moon, which comes while yet 'tis day,
Hanging upon the edge of some dark cloud
Which serves to throw its saddened beauty forth;
So she did place her hands upon her face,
Hiding her eyes, whose brightness shone the more
The more she strove their brightness to conceal.

"What eyes arc these," he asked, "which shine so bright?
These are not eyes, but surely two bright stars
Which glimmer through the mists of coming eve."
"Fair knight," she said, "you blame, but flatter me;
These are but eyes: you do not blame the stars
Because the spirits of the moonlit sea
Do sing to them: the stars are not to blame.
So blame not me; and if my eyes seem bright
To your vain fancy, say it is the gloom
Which makes them seem so, or the happy fate
Which led me to you; and, my heart being full.
My thanks must needs be spoken by my eyes."

To which the king: "Thine eyes more glorious grow.
And fill me with strange wonder and strange doubts."
Then she, in anxious haste: "Far off I see
A glimmer in the east, it is the moon;
And, see, the trees are fewer, and beyond
The open country; further on the wood,
Where was my father's castle: let us on."

Then through the daisied meadows, where the flowers,
Whispering "Beware!" looked shyly at the king;
Along the banks of many languid pools,
From which came slimy things to gloat at them;
By gloomy groves, whence came the mocking sound
Of "Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" all the livelong day;
And round the wave-washed melancholy coast,
O'er which the gathering clouds kept awful watch.
While sea-gulls wheeled and shrieked around the cliffs;
And by the plains where many herons piped.
He went with her; until, at length, they came
Unto the borders of a dismal wood.
She took his hand, and led him to a path
Which ran between two rows of savage pines;
And down this path she went, and he with her.

Cooing of ringdoves calling to their mates
Betokened that the day was waning fast.
Soon the drear forest and the evening shades
Enfolded them; and night came on apace.
Then dark clouds hemmed the sad and passionful moon,
And not one single ray of gentle light
Lingered amid that weird and awful place.
Ere long they came to where a mountain gorge
Lay coiled beneath a dreadful precipice,
All thick with firs and many a mountain yew,
High in the sky; and as the tempest rose
The branches bent and broke, and thickly fell
Around them; and huge rocks forsook the cliff's
And crashed and thundered down the dismal gorge;
And from afar a noise of waters came
Like the dull rolling moan of many seas;
And leaping cataracts foamed and hissed along,
And tumbled to the plains somewhere below.