E Wings Of Earthly Anguish Darken. Scene: On A Highway In A Valley Near The Last, With A Mist Over All Things. King Pharamond, Master Oliver. King Pharamond Hold A While, Oliver! My Limbs Are Grown Weaker Than When In The Wood I First Rose To My Feet. There Was Hope In My Heart Then, And Now Nought But Sickness; There Was Sight In My Eyes Then, And Now Nought But Blindness. Good Art Thou, Hope, While The Life Yet Tormenteth, But A Better Help Now Have I Gained Than Thy Goading. Farewell, O Life, Wherein Once I Was Merry! O Dream Of The World, I Depart Now, And Leave Thee A Little Tale Added To Thy Long-Drawn-Out Story. Cruel Wert Thou, O Love, Yet Have Thou And I Conquered. --Come Nearer, O Fosterer, Come Nearer And Kiss Me, Bid Farewell To Thy Fosterling While The Life Yet Is In Me, For This Farewell To Thee Is My Last Word Meseemeth. [He Lies Down And Sleeps. Master Oliver O My King, O My Son! Ah, Woe'S Me For My Kindness, For The Day When Thou Drew'St Me And I Let Thee Be Drawn Into Toils I Knew Deadly, Into Death Thou Desiredst! And Woe'S Me That I Die Not! For My Body Made Hardy By The Battles Of Old Days To Bear Every Anguish! --Speak A Word And Forgive Me, For Who Knows How Long Yet Are The Days Of My Life, And The Hours Of My Loathing! He Speaks Not, He Moves Not; Yet He Draweth Breath Softly: I Have Seen Men A-Dying, And Not Thus Did The End Come. Surely God Who Made All Forgets Not Love'S Rewarding, Forgets Not The Faithful, The Guileless Who Fear Not. Oh, Might There Be Help Yet, And Some New Life'S Beginning! --Lo, Lighter The Mist Grows: There Come Sounds Through Its Dulness, The Lowing Of Kine, Or The Whoop Of A Shepherd, The Bell-Wether'S Tinkle, Or Clatter Of Horse-Hoofs. A Homestead Is Nigh Us: I Will Fare Down The Highway And Seek For Some Helping: Folk Said Simple People Abode In This Valley, And These May Avail Us-- If Aught It Avail Us To Live For A Little. --Yea, Give It Us, God!--All The Fame And The Glory We Fought For And Gained Once; The Life Of Well-Doing, Fair Deed Thrusting On Deed, And No Day Forgotten; And Due Worship Of Folk That His Great Heart Had Holpen;-- All I Prayed For Him Once Now No Longer I Pray For. Let It All Pass Away As My Warm Breath Now Passeth In The Chill Of The Morning Mist Wherewith Thou Hidest Fair Vale And Grey Mountain Of The Land We Are Come To! Let It All Pass Away! But Some Peace And Some Pleasure I Pray For Him Yet, And That I May Behold It. A Prayer Little And Lowly,--And We In The Old Time When The World Lay Before Us, Were We Hard To The Lowly? Thou Know'St We Were Kind, Howso Hard To Be Beaten; Wilt Thou Help Us This Last Time? Or What Hast Thou Hidden We Know Not, We Name Not, Some Crown For Our Striving? --O Body And Soul Of My Son, May God Keep Thee! For, As Lone As Thou Liest In A Land That We See Not When The World Loseth Thee, What Is Left For Its Losing? [Exit Oliver. The Music Love Is Enough: Cherish Life That Abideth, Lest Ye Die Ere Ye Know Him, And Curse And Misname Him; For Who Knows In What Ruin Of All Hope He Hideth, On What Wings Of The Terror Of Darkness He Rideth? And What Is The Joy Of Man'S Life That Ye Blame Him For His Bliss Grown A Sword, And His Rest Grown A Fire? Ye Who Tremble For Death, Or The Death Of Desire, Pass About The Cold Winter-Tide Garden And Ponder On The Rose In His Glory Amidst Of June'S Fire, On The Languor Of Noontide That Gathered The Thunder, On The Morn And Its Freshness, The Eve And Its Wonder; Ye May Wake It No More--Shall Spring Come To Awaken? Live On, For Love Liveth, And Earth Shall Be Shaken By The Wind Of His Wings On The Triumphing Morning, When The Dead, And Their Deeds That Die Not Shall Awaken, And The World'S Tale Shall Sound In Your Trumpet Of Warning, And The Sun Smite The Banner Called Scorn Of The Scorning, And Dead Pain Ye Shall Trample, Dead Fruitless Desire, As Ye Wend To Pluck Out The New World From The Fire. Enter Before The Curtain, Love Clad As A Pilgrim. Love Alone, Afar From Home Doth Pharamond Lie, Drawn Near To Death, Ye Deem--Or What Draws Nigh? Afar From Home--And Have Ye Any Deeming How Far May Be That Country Of His Dreaming? Is It Not Time, Is It Not Time, Say Ye, That We The Day-Star In The Sky Should See? Patience, Beloved; These May Come To Live A Life Fulfilled Of All I Have To Give, But Bare Of Strife And Story; And Ye Know Well How Wild A Tale Of Him Might Be To Tell Had I Not Snatched Away The Sword And Crown; Yea, And She Too Was Made For World'S Renown, And Should Have Won It, Had My Bow Not Been; These That I Love Were Very King And Queen; I Have Discrowned Them, Shall I Not Crown Too? Ye Know, Beloved, What Sharp Bitter Dew, What Parching Torment Of Unresting Day Falls On The Garden Of My Deathless Bay: Hands That Have Gathered It And Feet That Came Beneath Its Shadow Have Known Flint And Flame; Therefore I Love Them; And They Love No Less Each Furlong Of The Road Of Past Distress. --Ah, Faithful, Tell Me For What Rest And Peace, What Length Of Happy Days And World'S Increase, What Hate Of Wailing, And What Love Of Laughter, What Hope And Fear Of Worlds To Be Hereafter, Would Ye Cast By That Crown Of Bitter Leaves? And Yet, Ye Say, Our Very Heart It Grieves To See Him Lying There: How May He Save His Life And Love If He More Pain Must Have? And She--How Fares It With Her? Is Not Earth From Winter'S Sorrow Unto Summer'S Mirth Grown All Too Narrow For Her Yearning Heart? We Pray Thee, Love, Keep These No More Apart. Ye Say But Sooth: Not Long May He Endure: And Her Heart Sickeneth Past All Help Or Cure Unless I Hasten To The Helping--See, Am I Not Girt For Going Speedily? --The Journey Lies Before Me Long?--Nay, Nay, Upon My Feet The Dust Is Lying Grey, The Staff Is Heavy In My Hand.--Ye Too, Have Ye Not Slept? Or What Is This Ye Do, Wearying To Find The Country Ye Are In? [The Curtain Draws Up And Shows The Same Scene As The Last, With The Mist Clearing, And Pharamond Lying There As Before. Look, Look! How Sun And Morn At Last Do Win Upon The Shifting Waves Of Mist! Behold That Mountain-Wall The Earth-Fires Rent Of Old, Grey Toward The Valley, Sun-Gilt At The Side! See The Black Yew-Wood That The Pass Doth Hide! Search Through The Mist For Knoll, And Fruited Tree, And Winding Stream, And Highway White--And See, See, At My Feet Lies Pharamond The Freed! A Happy Journey Have We Gone Indeed! Hearken, Beloved, Over-Long, Ye Deem, I Let These Lovers Deal With Hope And Dream Alone Unholpen.--Somewhat Sooth Ye Say: But Now Her Feet Are On This Very Way That Leadeth From The City: And She Saith One Beckoneth Her Back Hitherward--Even Death-- And Who Was That, Beloved, But Even I? Yet Though Her Feet And Sunlight Are Drawn Nigh The Cold Grass Where He Lieth Like The Dead, To Ease Your Hearts A Little Of Their Dread I Will Abide Her Coming, And In Speech He Knoweth, Somewhat Of His Welfare Teach. Love Goes On To The Stage And Stands At Pharamond'S Head. Love Hearken, O Pharamond, Why Camest Thou Hither? King Pharamond I Came Seeking Death; I Have Found Him Belike. Love In What Land Of The World Art Thou Lying, O Pharamond? King Pharamond In A Land 'Twixt Two Worlds: Nor Long Shall I Dwell There. Love Who Am I, Pharamond, That Stand Here Beside Thee? King Pharamond The Death I Have Sought--Thou Art Welcome; I Greet Thee. Love Such A Name Have I Had, But Another Name Have I. King Pharamond Art Thou God Then That Helps Not Until The Last Season? Love Yea, God Am I Surely: Yet Another Name Have I. King Pharamond Methinks As I Hearken, Thy Voice I Should Wot Of. Love I Called Thee, And Thou Cam'St From Thy Glory And Kingship. King Pharamond I Was King Pharamond, And Love Overcame Me. Love Pharamond, Thou Say'St It.--I Am Love And Thy Master. King Pharamond Sooth Didst Thou Say When Thou Call'Dst Thyself Death. Love Though Thou Diest, Yet Thy Love And Thy Deeds Shall I Quicken. King Pharamond Be Thou God, Be Thou Death, Yet I Love Thee And Dread Not. Love Pharamond, While Thou Livedst What Thing Wert Thou Loving? King Pharamond A Dream And A Lie--And My Death--And I Love It. Love Pharamond, Do My Bidding, As Thy Wont Was Aforetime. King Pharamond What Wilt Thou Have Of Me, For I Wend Away Swiftly? Love Open Thine Eyes, And Behold Where Thou Liest! King Pharamond It Is Little--The Old Dream, The Old Lie Is About Me. Love Why Faintest Thou, Pharamond? Is Love Then Unworthy? King Pharamond Then Hath God Made No World Now, Nor Shall Make Hereafter. Love Wouldst Thou Live If Thou Mightst In This Fair World, O Pharamond? King Pharamond Yea, If She And Truth Were; Nay, If She And Truth Were Not. Love O Long Shalt Thou Live: Thou Art Here In The Body, Where Nought But Thy Spirit I Brought In Days Bygone. Ah, Thou Hearkenest!--And Where Then Of Old Hast Thou Heard It? [Music Outside, Far Off. King Pharamond O Mock Me Not, Death; Or, Life, Hold Me No Longer! For That Sweet Strain I Hear That I Heard Once A-Dreaming: Is It Death Coming Nigher, Or Life Come Back That Brings It? Or Rather My Dream Come Again As Aforetime? Love Look Up, O Pharamond! Canst Thou See Aught About Thee? King Pharamond Yea, Surely: All Things As Aforetime I Saw Them: The Mist Fading Out With The First Of The Sunlight, And The Mountains A-Changing As Oft In My Dreaming, And The Thornbrake Anigh Blossomed Thick With The May-Tide. [Music Again. O My Heart!--I Am Hearkening Thee Whereso Thou Wanderest! Love Put Forth Thine Hand, Feel The Dew On The Daisies! King Pharamond So Their Freshness I Felt In The Days Ere Hope Perished. --O Me, Me, My Darling! How Fair The World Groweth! Ah, Shall I Not Find Thee, If Death Yet Should Linger, Else Why Grow I So Glad Now When Life Seems Departing? What Pleasure Thus Pierceth My Heart Unto Fainting? --O Me, Into Words Now Thy Melody Passeth. Music With Singing (From Without) Dawn Talks To-Day Over Dew-Gleaming Flowers, Night Flies Away Till The Resting Of Hours: Fresh Are Thy Feet And With Dreams Thine Eyes Glistening. Thy Still Lips Are Sweet Though The World Is A-Listening. O Love, Set A Word In My Mouth For Our Meeting, Cast Thine Arms Round About Me To Stay My Heart'S Beating! O Fresh Day, O Fair Day, O Long Day Made Ours! Love What Wilt Thou Say Now Of The Gifts Love Hath Given? King Pharamond Stay Thy Whispering, O Wind Of The Morning--She Speaketh. The Music (Coming Nearer) Morn Shall Meet Noon While The Flower-Stems Yet Move, Though The Wind Dieth Soon And The Clouds Fade Above. Loved Lips Are Thine As I Tremble And Hearken; Bright Thine Eyes Shine, Though The Leaves Thy Brow Darken. O Love, Kiss Me Into Silence, Lest No Word Avail Me, Stay My Head With Thy Bosom Lest Breath And Life Fail Me! O Sweet Day, O Rich Day, Made Long For Our Love! Love Was Love Then A Liar Who Fashioned Thy Dreaming? King Pharamond O Fair-Blossomed Tree, Stay Thy Rustling--I Hearken. The Music (Coming Nearer) Late Day Shall Greet Eve, And The Full Blossoms Shake, For The Wind Will Not Leave The Tall Trees While They Wake. Eyes Soft With Bliss, Come Nigher And Nigher! Sweet Mouth I Kiss, Tell Me All Thy Desire! Let Us Speak, Love, Together Some Words Of Our Story, That Our Lips As They Part May Remember The Glory! O Soft Day, O Calm Day, Made Clear For Our Sake! Love What Wouldst Thou, Pharamond? Why Art Thou Fainting? King Pharamond And Thou Diest, Fair Daylight, Now She Draweth Near Me! The Music (Close Outside) Eve Shall Kiss Night, And The Leaves Stir Like Rain As The Wind Stealeth Light O'Er The Grass Of The Plain. Unseen Are Thine Eyes Mid The Dreamy Night'S Sleeping, And On My Mouth There Lies The Dear Rain Of Thy Weeping. Hold, Silence, Love, Speak Not Of The Sweet Day Departed, Cling Close To Me, Love, Lest I Waken Sad-Hearted! O Kind Day, O Dear Day, Short Day, Come Again! Love Sleep Then, O Pharamond, Till Her Kiss Shall Awake Thee, For, Lo, Here Comes The Sun O'Er The Tops Of The Mountains, And She With His Light In Her Hair Comes Before Him, As Solemn And Fair As The Dawn Of The May-Tide On Some Isle Of Mid-Ocean When All Winds Are Sleeping. O Worthy Is She Of This Hour That Awaits Her, And The Death Of All Doubt, And Beginning Of Gladness Her Great Heart Shall Embrace Without Fear Or Amazement. --He Sleeps, Yet His Heart'S Beating Measures Her Footfalls; And Her Heart Beateth Too, As Her Feet Bear Her Onward: Breathe Gently Between Them, O Breeze Of The Morning! Wind Round Them Unthought Of, Sweet Scent Of The Blossoms! Treasure Up Every Minute Of This Tide Of Their Meeting, O Flower-Bedecked Earth! With Such Tales Of My Triumph Is Your Life Still Renewed, And Spring Comes Back For Ever From That Forge Of All Glory That Brought Forth My Blessing. O Welcome, Love'S Darling: Shall This Day Ever Darken, Whose Dawn I Have Dight For Thy Longing Triumphant? [Exit Love. Enter Azalais. Azalais A Song In My Mouth, Then? My Heart Full Of Gladness? My Feet Firm On The Earth, As When Youth Was Beginning? And The Rest Of My Early Days Come Back To Bless Me?-- Who Hath Brought Me These Gifts In The Midst Of The May-Tide? What!--Three Days Agone To The City I Wandered, And Watched The Ships Warped To The Quay Of The Merchants; And Wondered Why Folk Should Be Busy And Anxious; For Bitter My Heart Was, And Life Seemed A-Waning, With No Story Told, With Sweet Longing Turned Torment, Love Turned To Abasement, And Rest Gone For Ever. And Last Night I Awoke With A Pain Piercing Through Me, And A Cry In My Ears, And Death Passed On Before, As One Pointing The Way, And I Rose Up Sore Trembling, And By Cloud And By Night Went Before The Sun'S Coming, As One Goeth To Death,--And Lo Here The Dawning! And A Dawning Therewith Of A Dear Joy I Know Not. I Have Given Back The Day The Glad Greeting It Gave Me; And The Gladness It Gave Me, That Too Would I Give Were Hands Held Out To Crave It----Fair Valley, I Greet Thee, And The New-Wakened Voices Of All Things Familiar. --Behold, How The Mist-Bow Lies Bright On The Mountain, Bidding Hope As Of Old Since No Prison Endureth. Full Busy Has May Been These Days I Have Missed Her, And The Milkwort Is Blooming, And Blue Falls The Speedwell. --Lo, Here Have Been Footsteps In The First Of The Morning, Since The Moon Sank All Red In The Mist Now Departed. --Ah! What Lieth There By The Side Of The Highway? Is It Death Stains The Sunlight, Or Sorrow Or Sickness? [Going Up To Pharamond. --Not Death, For He Sleepeth; But Beauty Sore Blemished By Sorrow And Sickness, And For All That The Sweeter. I Will Wait Till He Wakens And Gaze On His Beauty, Lest I Never Again In The World Should Behold Him. --Maybe I May Help Him; He Is Sick And Needs Tending, He Is Poor, And Shall Scorn Not Our Simpleness Surely. Whence Came He To Us-Ward--What Like Has His Life Been-- Who Spoke To Him Last--For What Is He Longing? --As One Hearkening A Story I Wonder What Cometh, And In What Wise My Voice To Our Homestead Shall Bid Him. O Heart, How Thou Faintest With Hope Of The Gladness I May Have For A Little If There He Abide. Soft There Shalt Thou Sleep, Love, And Sweet Shall Thy Dreams Be, And Sweet Thy Awaking Amidst Of The Wonder Where Thou Art, Who Is Nigh Thee--And Then, When Thou Seest How The Rose-Boughs Hang In O'Er The Little Loft Window, And The Blue Bowl With Roses Is Close To Thine Hand, And Over Thy Bed Is The Quilt Sewn With Lilies, And The Loft Is Hung Round With The Green Southland Hangings, And All Smelleth Sweet As The Low Door Is Opened, And Thou Turnest To See Me There Standing, And Holding Such Dainties As May Be, Thy New Hunger To Stay-- Then Well May I Hope That Thou Wilt Not Remember Thine Old Woes For A Moment In The Freshness And Pleasure, And That I Shall Be Part Of Thy Rest For A Little. And Then---Who Shall Say--Wilt Thou Tell Me Thy Story, And What Thou Hast Loved, And For What Thou Hast Striven? --Thou Shalt See Me, And My Love And My Pity, As Thou Speakest, And It May Be Thy Pity Shall Mingle With Mine. --And Meanwhile--Ah, Love, What Hope May My Heart Hold? For I See That Thou Lovest, Who Ne'Er Hast Beheld Me. And How Should Thy Love Change, Howe'Er The World Changeth? Yet Meanwhile, Had I Dreamed Of The Bliss Of This Minute, How Might I Have Borne To Live Weary And Waiting! Woe'S Me! Do I Fear Thee? Else Should I Not Wake Thee, For Tending Thou Needest--If My Hand Touched Thy Hand [Touching Him. I Should Fear Thee The Less.--O Sweet Friend, Forgive It, My Hand And My Tears, For Faintly They Touched Thee! He Trembleth, And Waketh Not: O Me, My Darling! Hope Whispers That Thou Hear'St Me Through Sleep, And Wouldst Waken, But For Dread That Thou Dreamest And I Should Be Gone. Doth It Please Thee In Dreaming That I Tremble And Dread Thee, That These Tears Are The Tears Of One Praying Vainly, Who Shall Pray With No Word When Thou Hast Awakened? --Yet How Shall I Deal With My Life If He Love Not, As How Should He Love Me, A Stranger, Unheard Of? --O Bear Witness, Thou Day That Hast Brought My Love Hither! Thou Sun That Burst Out Through The Mist O'Er The Mountains, In That Moment Mine Eyes Met The Field Of His Sorrow-- Bear Witness, Ye Fields That Have Fed Me And Clothed Me, And Air I Have Breathed, And Earth That Hast Borne Me-- Though I Find You But Shadows, And Wrought But For Fading, Though All Ye And God Fail Me,--My Love Shall Not Fail! Yea, Even If This Love, That Seemeth Such Pleasure As Earth Is Unworthy Of, Turneth To Pain; If He Wake Without Memory Of Me And My Weeping, With A Name On His Lips Not Mine--That I Know Not: If Thus My Hand Leave His Hand For The Last Time, And No Word From His Lips Be Kind For My Comfort-- If All Speech Fail Between Us, All Sight Fail Me Henceforth, If All Hope And God Fail Me--My Love Shall Not Fail. --Friend, I May Not Forbear: We Have Been Here Together: My Hand On Thy Hand Has Been Laid, And Thou Trembledst. Think Now If This May Sky Should Darken Above Us, And The Death Of The World In This Minute Should Part Us-- Think, My Love, Of The Loss If My Lips Had Not Kissed Thee. And Forgive Me My Hunger Of No Hope Begotten! [She Kisses Him. King Pharamond (Awaking) Who Art Thou? Who Art Thou, That My Dream I Might Tell Thee? How With Words Full Of Love She Drew Near Me, And Kissed Me. O Thou Kissest Me Yet, And Thou Clingest About Me! Ah, Kiss Me And Wake Me Into Death And Deliverance! Azalais (Drawing Away From Him) Speak No Rough Word, I Pray Thee, For A Little, Thou Loveliest! But Forgive Me, For The Years Of My Life Have Been Lonely, And Thou Art Come Hither With The Eyes Of One Seeking. King Pharamond Sweet Dream Of Old Days, And Her Very Lips Speaking The Words Of My Lips And The Night Season'S Longing. How Might I Have Lived Had I Known What I Longed For! Azalais I Knew Thou Wouldst Love, I Knew All Thy Desire-- Am I She Whom Thou Seekest? May I Draw Nigh Again? King Pharamond Ah, Lengthen No More The Years Of My Seeking, For Thou Knowest My Love As Thy Love Lies Before Me. Azalais (Coming Near To Him Again) O Love, There Was Fear In Thine Eyes As Thou Wakenedst; Thy First Words Were Of Dreaming And Death--But We Die Not. King Pharamond In Thine Eyes Was A Terror As Thy Lips' Touches Faded, Sore Trembled Thine Arms As They Fell Away From Me; And Thy Voice Was Grown Piteous With Words Of Beseeching, So That Still For A Little My Search Seemed Unended. --Ah, Enending, Unchanging Desire Fulfils Me! I Cry Out For Thy Comfort As Thou Clingest About Me. O Joy Hard To Bear, But For Memory Of Sorrow, But For Pity Of Past Days Whose Bitter Is Sweet Now! Let Us Speak, Love, Together Some Word Of Our Story, That Our Lips As They Part May Remember The Glory. Azalais O Love, Kiss Me Into Silence Lest No Word Avail Me; Stay My Head With Thy Bosom Lest Breath And Life Fail Me. The Music Love Is Enough: While Ye Deemed Him A-Sleeping, There Were Signs Of His Coming And Sounds Of His Feet; His Touch It Was That Would Bring You To Weeping, When The Summer Was Deepest And Music Most Sweet: In His Footsteps Ye Followed The Day To Its Dying, Ye Went Forth By His Gown-Skirts The Morning To Meet: In His Place On The Beaten-Down Orchard-Grass Lying, Of The Sweet Ways Ye Pondered Yet Left For Life'S Trying. Ah, What Was All Dreaming Of Pleasure Anear You, To The Time When His Eyes On Your Wistful Eyes Turned, And Ye Saw His Lips Move, And His Head Bend To Hear You, As New-Born And Glad To His Kindness Ye Yearned? Ah, What Was All Dreaming Of Anguish And Sorrow, To The Time When The World In His Torment Was Burned, And No God Your Heart From Its Prison Might Borrow, And No Rest Was Left, No To-Day, No To-Morrow? All Wonder Of Pleasure, All Doubt Of Desire, All Blindness, Are Ended, And No More Ye Feel If Your Feet Tread His Flowers Or The Flames Of His Fire, If Your Breast Meet His Balms Or The Edge Of His Steel. Change Is Come, And Past Over, No More Strife, No More Learning: Now Your Lips And Your Forehead Are Sealed With His Seal, Look Backward And Smile At The Thorns And The Burning. --Sweet Rest, O My Soul, And No Fear Of Returning! Enter Before The Curtain Love, Clad Still As A Pilgrim. Love How Is It With The Fosterer Then, When He Comes Back Again That Rest And Peace To See, And God His Latest Prayer Has Granted Now?-- Why, As The Winds Whereso They List Shall Blow, So Drifts The Thought Of Man, And Who Shall Say To-Morrow Shall My Thought Be As To-Day? --My Fosterling Is Happy, And I Too; Yet Did We Leave Behind Things Good To Do, Deeds Good To Tell About When We Are Dead. Here Is No Pain, But Rest, And Easy Bread; Yet Therewith Something Hard To Understand Dulls The Crowned Work To Which I Set My Hand. Ah, Patience Yet! His Longing Is Well Won, And I Shall Die At Last And All Be Done.-- Such Words Unspoken The Best Man On Earth Still Bears About Betwixt The Lover'S Mirth; And Now He Hath What He Went Forth To Find, This Pharamond Is Neither Dull Nor Blind, And Looking Upon Oliver, He Saith:-- My Friend Recked Nothing Of His Life Or Death, Knew Not My Anguish Then, Nor Now My Pleasure, And By My Crowned Joy Sets His Lessened Treasure. Is Risk Of Twenty Days Of Wind And Sea, Of New-Born Feeble Headless Enmity, I Should Have Scorned Once, Too Great Gift To Give To This Most Faithful Man That He May Live? --Yea, Was That All? My Faithful, You And I, Still Craving, Scorn The World Too Utterly, The World We Want Not--Yet, Our One Desire Fulfilled At Last, What Next Shall Feed The Fire? --I Say Not This To Make My Altar Cold; Rather That Ye, My Happy Ones, Should Hold Enough Of Memory And Enough Of Fear Within Your Hearts To Keep Its Flame Full Clear; Rather That Ye, Still Dearer To My Heart, Whom Words Call Hapless, Yet Should Praise Your Part, Wherein The Morning And The Evening Sun Are Bright About A Story Never Done; That Those For Chastening, These For Joy Should Cling About The Marvels That My Minstrels Sing. Well, Pharamond Fulfilled Of Love Must Turn Unto The Folk That Still He Deemed Would Yearn To See His Face, And Hear His Voice Once More; And He Was Mindful Of The Days Passed O'Er, And Fain Had Linked Them To These Days Of Love; And He Perchance Was Fain The World To Move While Love Looked On; And He Perchance Was Fain Some Pleasure Of The Strife Of Old To Gain. Easy Withal It Seemed To Him To Land, And By His Empty Throne Awhile To Stand Amid The Wonder, And Then Sit Him Down While Folk Went Forth To Seek The Hidden Crown. Or Else His Name Upon The Same Wind Borne As Smote The World With Winding Of His Horn, His Hood Pulled Back, His Banner Flung Abroad, A Gleam Of Sunshine On His Half-Drawn Sword. --Well, He And You And I Have Little Skill To Know The Secret Of Fate'S Worldly Will; Yet Can I Guess, And You Belike May Guess, Yea, And E'En He Mid All His Lordliness, That Much May Be Forgot In Three Years' Space Outside My Kingdom.--Gone His Godlike Face, His Calm Voice, And His Kindness, Half Akin Amid A Blind Folk To Rebuke Of Sin, Men 'Gin To Think That He Was Great And Good, But Hindered Them From Doing As They Would, And Ere They Have Much Time To Think On It Between Their Teeth Another Has The Bit, And Forth They Run With Force And Fate Behind. --Indeed His Sword Might Somewhat Heal The Blind, Were I Not, And The Softness I Have Given; With Me For Him Have Hope And Glory Striven In Other Days When My Tale Was Beginning; But Sweet Life Lay Beyond Then For The Winning, And Now What Sweetness?--Blood Of Men To Spill Who Once Believed Him God To Heal Their Ill: To Break The Gate And Storm Adown The Street Where Once His Coming Flower-Crowned Girls Did Greet: To Deem The Cry Come From Amidst His Folk When His Own Country Tongue Should Curse His Stroke-- Nay, He Shall Leave To Better Men Or Worse His People'S Conquered Homage And Their Curse. So Forth They Go, His Oliver And He, One Thing At Least To Learn Across The Sea, That Whatso Needless Shadows Life May Borrow Love Is Enough Amidst Of Joy Or Sorrow. Love Is Enough--My Faithful, In Your Eyes I See The Thought, Our Lord Is Overwise Some Minutes Past In What Concerns Him Not, And Us No More: Is All His Tale Forgot? --Ah, Well-Beloved, I Fell Asleep E'En Now, And In My Sleep Some Enemy Did Show Sad Ghosts Of Bitter Things, And Names Unknown For Things I Know--A Maze With Shame Bestrown And Ruin And Death; Till E'En Myself Did Seem A Wandering Curse Amidst A Hopeless Dream. --Yet See! I Live, No Older Than Of Old, What Tales Soe'Er Of Changing Time Has Told. And Ye Who Cling To All My Hand Shall Give, Sorrow Or Joy, No Less Than I Shall Live. Scene: Before King Pharamond'S Palace. King Pharamond A Long Time It Seems Since This Morn When I Met Them, The Men Of My Household And The Great Man They Honour: Better Counsel In King-Choosing Might I Have Given Had Ye Bided My Coming Back Hither, My People: And Yet Who Shall Say Or Foretell What Fate Meaneth? For That Man There, The Stranger, Honorius Men Called Him, I Account Him The Soul To King Theobald'S Body, And The Twain Are One King; And A Goodly King May Be For This People, Who Grasping At Peace And Good Days, Careth Little Who Giveth Them That Which They Long For. Yet What Gifts Have I Given Them; I Who This Even Turn Away With Grim Face From The Fight That Should Try Me? It Is Just Then, I Have Lost: Lie Down, Thou Supplanter, In Thy Tomb In The Minster When Thy Life Is Well Over, And The Well-Carven Image Of Latten Laid O'Er Thee Shall Live On As Thou Livedst, And Be Worthy The Praising Whereby Folk Shall Remember The Days Of Thy Plenty. Praising Theobald The Good And The Peace That He Brought Them, But I--I Shall Live Too, Though No Graven Image On The Grass Of The Hillside Shall Brave The Storms' Beating; Though Through Days Of Thy Plenty The People Remember As A Dim Time Of War The Past Days Of King Pharamond; Yet Belike As Time Weareth, And Folk Turn Back A Little To The Darkness Where Dreams Lie And Live On For Ever, Even There Shall Be Pharamond Who Failed Not In Battle, But Feared To Overcome His Folk Who Forgot Him, And Turned Back And Left Them A Tale For The Telling, A Song For The Singing, That Yet In Some Battle May Grow To Remembrance And Rend Through The Ruin As My Sword Rent It Through In The Days Gone For Ever. So, Like Enoch Of Old, I Was Not, For God Took Me. --But Lo, Here Is Oliver, All Draws To An Ending-- [Enter Oliver. Well Met, My Oliver! The Clocks Strike The Due Minute, What News Hast Thou Got?--Thou Art Moody Of Visage. Master Oliver In One Word, 'Tis Battle; The Days We Begun With Must Begin Once Again With The World Waxen Baser. King Pharamond Ah! Battle It May Be: But Surely No River Runneth Back To Its Springing: So The World Has Grown Wiser And Theobald The Constable Is King In Our Stead, And Contenteth The Folk Who Cried, "Save Us, King Pharamond!" Master Oliver Hast Thou Heard Of His Councillor Men Call Honorius? Folk Hold Him In Fear, And In Love The Tale Hath It. King Pharamond. Much Of Him Have I Heard: Nay, More, I Have Seen Him With The Men Of My Household, And The Great Man They Honour. They Were Faring Afield To Some Hunt Or Disporting, Few Faces Were Missing, And Many I Saw There I Was Fain Of In Days Past At Fray Or At Feasting; My Heart Yearned Towards Them--But What--Days Have Changed Them, They Must Wend As They Must Down The Way They Are Driven. Master Oliver Yet E'En In These Days There Remaineth A Remnant That Is Faithful And Fears Not The Flap Of Thy Banner. King Pharamond And A Fair Crown Is Faith, As Thou Knowest, My Father; Fails The World, Yet That Faileth Not; Love Hath Begot It, Sweet Life And Contentment At Last Springeth From It; No Helping These Need Whose Hearts Still Are With Me, Nay, Rather They Handle The Gold Rod Of My Kingdom. Master Oliver Yet If Thou Leadest Forth Once More As Aforetime In Faith Of Great Deeds Will I Follow Thee, Pharamond, And Thy Latter End Yet Shall Be Counted More Glorious Than Thy Glorious Beginning; And Great Shall My Gain Be If E'En I Must Die Ere The Day Of Thy Triumph. King Pharamond Dear Is Thy Heart Mid The Best And The Brightest, Yet Not Against These My Famed Blade Will I Bare. Master Oliver Nay, What Hast Thou Heard Of Their Babble And Baseness? King Pharamond Full Enough, Friend--Content Thee, My Lips Shall Not Speak It, The Same Hour Wherein They Have Said That I Love Thee. Suffice It, Folk Need Me No More: The Deliverance, Dear Bought In The Days Past, Their Hearts Have Forgotten, But Faintly Their Dim Eyes A Feared Face Remember, Their Dull Ears Remember A Stern Voice They Hated. What Then, Shall I Waken Their Fear And Their Hatred, And Then Wait Till Fresh Terror Their Memory Awaketh, With The Semblance Of Love That They Have Not To Give Me? Nay, Nay, They Are Safe From My Help And My Justice, And I--I Am Freed, And Fresh Waxeth My Manhood. Master Oliver It May Not Be Otherwise Since Thou Wilt Have It, Yet I Say It Again, If Thou Shake Out Thy Banner, Some Brave Men Will Be Borne Unto Earth Peradventure, Many Dastards Go Trembling To Meet Their Due Doom, And Then Shall Come Fair Days And Glory Upon Me And On All Men On Earth For Thy Fame, O King Pharamond. King Pharamond Yea, I Was King Once; The Songs Sung O'Er My Cradle, Were Ballads Of Battle And Deeds Of My Fathers: Yea, I Was King Pharamond; In No Carpeted Court-Room Bore They The Corpse Of My Father Before Me; But On Grass Trodden Grey By The Hoofs Of The War-Steeds Did I Kneel To His White Lips And Sword-Cloven Bosom, As From Clutch Of Dead Fingers His Notched Sword I Caught; For A Furlong Before Us The Spear-Wood Was Glistening. I Was King Of This City When Here Where We Stand Now Amidst A Grim Silence I Mustered All Men Folk Who Might Yet Bear A Weapon; And No Brawl Of Kings Was It That Brought War On The City, And Silenced The Markets And Cumbered The Haven With Crowd Of Masts Sailless, But Great Countries Arisen For Our Ruin And Downfall. I Was King Of The Land, When On All Roads Were Riding The Legates Of Proud Princes To Pray Help And Give Service-- Yea, I Was A Great King At Last As I Sat There, Peace Spread Far About Me, And The Love Of All People To My Palace Gates Wafted By Each Wind Of The Heavens. --And Where Sought I All This? With What Price Did I Buy It? Nay, For Thou Knowest That This Fair Fame And Fortune Came Stealing Soft-Footed To Give Their Gifts To Me: And Shall I, Who Was King Once, Grow Griping And Weary In Unclosing The Clenched Fists Of Niggards Who Hold Them, These Gifts That I Had Once, And, Having, Scarce Heeded? Nay, One Thing I Have Sought, I Have Sought And Have Found It, And Thou, Friend, Hast Helped Me And Seest Me Made Happy. Master Oliver Farewell Then The Last Time, O Land Of My Fathers! Farewell, Feeble Hopes That I Once Held So Mighty. Yet No More Have I Need Of But This Word That Thou Sayest, And Nought Have I To Do But To Serve Thee, My Master. In What Land Of The World Shall We Dwell Now Henceforward? King Pharamond In The Land Where My Love Our Returning Abideth, The Poor Land And Kingless Of The Shepherding People, There Is Peace There, And All Things This Land Are Unlike To. Master Oliver Before The Light Waneth Will I Seek For A Passage, Since For Thee And For Me The Land Groweth Perilous: Yea, O'Er Sweet Smell The Flowers, Too Familiar The Folk Seem, Fain I Grow Of The Salt Seas, Since All Things Are Over Here. King Pharamond I Am Fain Of One Hour'S Farewell In The Twilight, To The Times I Lament Not: Times Worser Than These Times, To The Times That I Blame Not, That Brought On Times Better-- Let Us Meet In Our Hostel--Be Brave Mid Thy Kindness, Let Thy Heart Say, As Mine Saith, That Fair Life Awaits Us. Master Oliver Yea, No Look In Thy Face Is Of Ruin, O My Master; Thou Art King Yet, Unchanged Yet, Nor Is My Heart Changing; The World Hath No Chances To Conquer Thy Glory. [Exit Oliver King Pharamond Full Fair Were The World If Such Faith Were Remembered. If Such Love As Thy Love Had Its Due, O My Fosterer. Forgive Me That Giftless From Me T