Tristram of Lyonesse - II - The Queens Pleasance

Out of the night arose the second day,     And saw the ships bows break the shoreward spray.     As the suns boat of gold and fire began     To sail the sea of heaven unsailed of man,     And the soft waves of sacred air to break     Round the prow launched into the mornings lake,     They saw the sign of their sea-travel done.     Ah, was not something seen of yester-sun,     When the sweet light that lightened all the skies     Saw nothing fairer than one maidens eyes,     That whatsoever in all times years may be     To-days sun nor to-morrows sun shall see?     Not while she lives, not when she comes to die,     Shall she look sunward with that sinless eye.     Yet fairer now than song may show them stand     Tristram and Iseult, hand in amorous hand,     Soul-satisfied, their eyes made great and bright     With all the love of all the livelong night;     With all its hours yet singing in their ears     No mortal music made of thoughts and tears,     But such a song, past conscience of mans thought,     As hearing he grows god and knows it not.     Nought else they saw nor heard but what the night     Had left for seal upon their sense and sight,     Sound of past pulses beating, fire of amorous light.     Enough, and overmuch, and never yet     Enough, though love still hungering feed and fret,     To fill the cup of night which dawn must overset.     For still their eyes were dimmer than with tears     And dizzier from diviner sounds their ears     Than though from choral thunders of the quiring spheres.     They heard not how the landward waters rang,     Nor saw where high into the morning sprang,     Riven from the shore and bastioned with the sea,     Toward summits where the north winds nest might be,     A wave-walled palace with its eastern gate     Full of the sunrise now and wide at wait,     And on the mighty-moulded stairs that clomb     Sheer from the fierce lip of the lapping foam     The knights of Mark that stood before the wall.     So with loud joy and storm of festival     They brought the bride in up the towery way     That rose against the rising front of day,     Stair based on stair, between the rocks unhewn,     To those strange halls wherethrough the tidal tune     Rang loud or lower from soft or strengthening sea,     Tower shouldering tower, to windward and to lee,     With change of floors and stories, flight on flight,     That clomb and curled up to the crowning height     Whence men might see wide east and west in one     And on one sea waned moon and mounting sun.     And severed from the sea-rocks base, where stand     Some worn walls yet they saw the broken strand,     The beachless cliff that in the sheer sea dips,     The sleepless shore inexorable to ships,     And the straight causeways bare gaunt spine between     The sea-spanned walls and naked mainlands green.     On the mid stairs, between the light and dark,     Before the main towers portal stood King Mark,     Crowned: and his face was as the face of one     Long time athirst and hungering for the sun     In barren thrall of bitter bonds, who now     Thinks here to feel its blessing on his brow.     A swart lean man, but kinglike, still of guise,     With black streaked beard and cold unquiet eyes,     Close-mouthed, gaunt-cheeked, wan as a morning moon,     Though hardly time on his worn hair had strewn     The thin first ashes from a sparing hand:     Yet little fire there burnt upon the brand,     And way-worn seemed he with lifes wayfaring.     So between shade and sunlight stood the king,     And his face changed nor yearned not toward his bride;     But fixed between mild hope and patient pride     Abode what gift of rare or lesser worth     This day might bring to all his days on earth.     But at the glory of her when she came     His heart endured not: very fear and shame     Smote him, to take her by the hand and kiss,     Till both were molten in the burning bliss,     And with a thin flame flushing his cold face     He led her silent to the bridal place.     There were they wed and hallowed of the priest;     And all the loud time of the marriage feast     One thought within three hearts was as a fire,     Where craft and faith took counsel with desire.     For when the feast had made a glorious end     They gave the new queen for her maids to tend     At dawn of bride-night, and thereafter bring     With marriage music to the bridegroom king.     Then by device of craft between them laid     To him went Brangwain delicately, and prayed     That this thing even for loves sake might not be,     But without sound or light or eye to see     She might come in to bride-bed: and he laughed,     As one that wist not well of wise loves craft,     And bade all bridal things be as she would.     Yet of his gentleness he gat not good;     For clothed and covered with the nuptial dark     Soft like a bride came Brangwain to King Mark,     And to the queen came Tristram; and the night     Fled, and ere danger of detective light     From the king sleeping Brangwain slid away,     And where had lain her handmaid Iseult lay.     And the king waking saw beside his head     That face yet passion-coloured, amorous red     From lips not his, and all that strange hair shed     Across the tissued pillows, fold on fold,     Innumerable, incomparable, all gold,     To fire mens eyes with wonder, and with love     Mens hearts; so shone its flowering crown above     The brows enwound with that imperial wreath,     And framed with fragrant radiance round the face beneath.     And the king marvelled, seeing with sudden start     Her very glory, and said out of his heart;     What have I done of good for God to bless     That all this he should give me, tress on tress,     All this great wealth and wondrous? Was it this     That in mine arms I had all night to kiss,     And mix with me this beauty? this that seems     More fair than heaven doth in some tired saints dreams,     Being part of that same heaven? yea, more, for he,     Though loved of God so, yet but seems to see,     But to me sinful such great grace is given     That in mine hands I hold this part of heaven,     Not to mine eyes lent merely. Doth God make     Such things so godlike for mans mortal sake?     Have I not sinned, that in this fleshly life     Have made of her a mere mans very wife?     So the king mused and murmured; and she heard     The faint sound trembling of each breathless word,     And laughed into the covering of her hair.     And many a day for many a month as fair     Slid over them like music; and as bright     Burned with loves offerings many a secret night.     And many a dawn to many a fiery noon     Blew prelude, when the horns heart-kindling tune     Lit the live woods with sovereign sound of mirth     Before the mightiest huntsman hailed on earth     Lord of its lordliest pleasure, where he rode     Hard by her rein whose peerless presence glowed     Not as that white queens of the virgin hunt     Once, whose crown-crescent braves the night-winds brunt,     But with the sun for frontlet of a queenlier front.     For where the flashing of her face was turned     As lightning was the fiery light that burned     From eyes and brows enkindled more with speed     And rapture of the rushing of her steed     Than once with only beauty; and her mouth     Was as a rose athirst that pants for drouth     Even while it laughs for pleasure of desire,     And all her heart was as a leaping fire.     Yet once more joy they took of woodland ways     Than came of all those flushed and fiery days     When the loud air was mad with life and sound,     Through many a dense green mile, of horn and hound     Before the kings hunt going along the wind,     And ere the timely leaves were changed or thinned,     Even in mid maze of summer. For the knight     Forth was once ridden toward some frontier fight     Against the lewd folk of the Christless lands     That warred with wild and intermittent hands     Against the kings north border; and there came     A knight unchristened yet of unknown name,     Swart Palamede, upon a secret quest,     To high Tintagel, and abode as guest     In likeness of a minstrel with the king.     Nor was there man could sound so sweet a string,     Save Tristram only, of all held best on earth.     And one loud eve, being full of wine and mirth,     Ere sunset left the walls and waters dark,     To that strange minstrel strongly swore King Mark,     By all that makes a knights faith firm and strong,     That he for guerdon of his harp and song     Might crave and have his liking. Straight there came     Up the swart cheek a flash of swarthier flame,     And the deep eyes fulfilled of glittering night     Laughed out in lightnings of triumphant light     As the grim harper spake: O king, I crave     No gift of man that king may give to slave,     But this thy crowned queen only, this thy wife,     Whom yet unseen I loved, and set my life     On this poor chance to compass, even as here,     Being fairer famed than all save Guenevere.     Then as the noise of seaward storm that mocks     With roaring laughter from reverberate rocks     The cry from ships near shipwreck, harsh and high     Rose all the wrath and wonder in one cry     Through all the long roofs hollow depth and length     That hearts of strong men kindled in their strength     May speak in laughter lion-like, and cease,     Being wearied: only two men held their peace     And each glared hard on other: but King Mark     Spake first of these: Man, though thy craft be dark     And thy mind evil that begat this thing,     Yet stands the word once plighted of a king     Fast: and albeit less evil it were for me     To give my life up than my wife, or be     A landless man crowned only with a curse,     Yet this in Gods and all mens sight were worse,     To live soul-shamed, a man of broken troth,     Abhorred of men as I abhor mine oath     Which yet I may forswear not. And he bowed     His head, and wept: and all men wept aloud,     Save one, that heard him weeping: but the queen     Wept not: and statelier yet than eyes had seen     That ever looked upon her queenly state     She rose, and in her eyes her heart was great     And full of wrath seen manifest and scorn     More strong than anguish to go thence forlorn     Of all mens comfort and her natural right.     And they went forth into the dawn of night.     Long by wild ways and clouded light they rode,     Silent; and fear less keen at heart abode     With Iseult than with Palamede: for awe     Constrained him, and the might of loves high law,     That can make lewd men loyal; and his heart     Yearned on her, if perchance with amorous art     And soothfast skill of very love he might     For courtesy find favour in her sight     And comfort of her mercies: for he wist     More grace might come of that sweet mouth unkissed     Than joy for violence done it, that should make     His name abhorred for shames disloyal sake.     And in the stormy starlight clouds were thinned     And thickened by short gusts of changing wind     That panted like a sick mans fitful breath:     And like a moan of lions hurt to death     Came the seas hollow noise along the night.     But ere its gloom from aught but foam had light     They halted, being aweary: and the knight     As reverently forbore her where she lay     As one that watched his sisters sleep till day.     Nor durst he kiss or touch her hand or hair     For love and shamefast pity, seeing how fair     She slept, and fenceless from the fitful air.     And shame at heart stung nigh to death desire,     But grief at heart burned in him like a fire     For hers and his own sorrowing sake, that had     Such grace for guerdon as makes glad men sad,     To have their will and want it. And the day     Sprang: and afar along the wild waste way     They heard the pulse and press of hurrying horse-hoofs play:     And like the rushing of a ravenous flame     Whose wings make tempest of the darkness, came     Upon them headlong as in thunder borne     Forth of the darkness of the labouring morn     Tristram: and up forthright upon his steed     Leapt, as one blithe of battle, Palamede,     And mightily with shock of horse and man     They lashed together: and fair that fight began     As fair came up that sunrise: to and fro,     With knees nigh staggered and stout heads bent low     From each quick shock of spears on either side,     Reeled the strong steeds heavily, haggard-eyed     And heartened high with passion of their pride     As sheer the stout spears shocked again, and flew     Sharp-splintering: then, his sword as each knight drew,     They flashed and foined full royally, so long     That but to see so fair a strife and strong     A man might well have given out of his life     One years void space forlorn of love or strife.     As when a bright north-easter, great of heart,     Scattering the strengths of squadrons, hurls apart     Ship from ship labouring violently, in such toil     As earns but ruinwith even so strong recoil     Back were the steeds hurled from the spear-shock, fain     And foiled of triumph: then with tightened rein     And stroke of spur, inveterate, either knight     Bore in again upon his foe with might,     Heart-hungry for the hot-mouthed feast of fight     And all athirst of mastery: but full soon     The jarring notes of that tempestuous tune     Fell, and its mighty music made of hands     Contending, clamorous through the loud waste lands,     Broke at once off; and shattered from his steed     Fell, as a mainmast ruining, Palamede,     Stunned: and those lovers left him where he lay,     And lightly through green lawns they rode away.     There was a bower beyond mans eye more fair     Than ever summer dews and sunniest air     Fed full with rest and radiance till the boughs     Had wrought a roof as for a holier house     Than aught save love might breathe in; fairer far     Than keeps the sweet light back of moon and star     From high kings chambers: there might love and sleep     Divide for joy the darkling hours, and keep     With amorous alternation of sweet strife     The soft and secret ways of death and life     Made smooth for pleasures feet to rest and run     Even from the moondawn to the kindling sun,     Made bright for passions feet to run and rest     Between the midnights and the mornings breast,     Where hardly though her happy head lie down     It may forget the hour that wove its crown;     Where hardly though her joyous limbs be laid     They may forget the mirth that midnight made.     And thither, ere sweet night had slain sweet day,     Iseult and Tristram took their wandering way,     And rested, and refreshed their hearts with cheer     In hunters fashion of the woods; and here     More sweet it seemed, while this might be, to dwell     And take of all worlds weariness farewell     Than reign of all worlds lordship queen and king.     Nor here would time for three moons changes bring     Sorrow nor thought of sorrow; but sweet earth     Fostered them like her babes of eldest birth,     Reared warm in pathless woods and cherished well.     And the sun sprang above the sea and fell,     And the stars rose and sank upon the sea;     And outlaw-like, in forest wise and free,     The rising and the setting of their lights     Found those twain dwelling all those days and nights.     And under change of sun and star and moon     Flourished and fell the chaplets woven of June,     And fair through fervours of the deepening sky     Panted and passed the hours that lit July,     And each day blessed them out of heaven above,     And each night crowned them with the crown of love.     Nor till the might of August overhead     Weighed on the world was yet one roseleaf shed     Of all their joys warm coronal, nor aught     Touched them in passing ever with a thought     That ever this might end on any day     Or any night not love them where they lay;     But like a babbling tale of barren breath     Seemed all report and rumour held of death,     And a false bruit the legend tear-impearled     That such a thing as change was in the world.     And each bright song upon his lips that came,     Mocking the powers of change and death by name,     Blasphemed their bitter godhead, and defied     Time, though clothed round with ruin as kings with pride,     To blot the glad life out of love: and she     Drank lightly deep of his philosophy     In that warm wine of amorous words which is     Sweet with all truths of all philosophies.     For well he wist all subtle ways of song,     And in his soul the secret eye was strong     That burns in meditation, till bright words     Break flamelike forth as notes from fledgeling birds     That feel the soul speak through them of the spring.     So fared they night and day as queen and king     Crowned of a kingdom wide as day and night.     Nor ever cloudlet swept or swam in sight     Across the darkling depths of their delight     Whose stars no skill might number, nor mans art     Sound the deep stories of its heavenly heart.     Till, even for wonder that such life should live,     Desires and dreams of what deaths self might give     Would touch with tears and laughter and wild speech     The lips and eyes of passion, fain to reach,     Beyond all bourne of time or trembling sense,     The verge of loves last possible eminence.     Out of the heaven that storm nor shadow mars,     Deep from the starry depth beyond the stars,     A yearning ardour without scope or name     Fell on them, and the bright nights breath of flame     Shot fire into their kisses; and like fire     The lit dews lightened on the leaves, as higher     Nights heart beat on toward midnight. Far and fain     Somewhiles the soft rush of rejoicing rain     Solaced the darkness, and from steep to steep     Of heaven they saw the sweet sheet lightning leap     And laugh its heart out in a thousand smiles,     When the clear sea for miles on glimmering miles     Burned as though dawn were strewn abroad astray,     Or, showering out of heaven, all heavens array     Had paven instead the waters: fain and far     Somewhiles the burning love of star for star     Spake words that love might wellnigh seem to hear     In such deep hours as turn delight to fear     Sweet as delights self ever. So they lay     Tranced once, nor watched along the fiery bay     The shine of summer darkness palpitate and play.     She had nor sight nor voice; her swooning eyes     Knew not if night or light were in the skies;     Across her beauty sheer the moondawn shed     Its light as on a thing as white and dead;     Only with stress of soft fierce hands she prest     Between the throbbing blossoms of her breast     His ardent face, and through his hair her breath     Went quivering as when life is hard on death;     And with strong trembling fingers she strained fast     His head into her bosom; till at last,     Satiate with sweetness of that burning bed,     His eyes afire with tears, he raised his head     And laughed into her lips; and all his heart     Filled hers; then face from face fell, and apart     Each hung on each with panting lips, and felt     Sense into sense and spirit in spirit melt.     Hast thou no sword? I would not live till day;     O love, this night and we must pass away,     It must die soon, and let not us die late.     Take then my sword and slay me; nay, but wait     Till day be risen; what, wouldst thou think to die     Before the light take hold upon the sky?     Yea, love; for how shall we have twice, being twain,     This very night of loves most rapturous reign?     Live thou and have thy day, and year by year     Be great, but what shall I be? Slay me here;     Let me die not when love lies dead, but now     Strike through my heart: nay, sweet, what heart hast thou?     Is it so much I ask thee, and spend my breath     In asking? nay, thou knowest it is but death.     Hadst thou true heart to love me, thou wouldst give     This: but for hates sake thou wilt let me live.     Here he caught up her lips with his, and made     The wild prayer silent in her heart that prayed,     And strained her to him till all her faint breath sank     And her bright light limbs palpitated and shrank     And rose and fluctuated as flowers in rain     That bends them and they tremble and rise again     And heave and straighten and quiver all through with bliss     And turn afresh their mouths up for a kiss,     Amorous, athirst of that sweet influent love;     So, hungering towards his hovering lips above,     Her red-rose mouth yearned silent, and her eyes     Closed, and flashed after, as through Junes darkest skies     The divine heartbeats of the deep live light     Make open and shut the gates of the outer night.     Long lay they still, subdued with love, nor knew     If cloud or light changed colour as it grew,     If star or moon beheld them; if above     The heaven of night waxed fiery with their love,     Or earth beneath were moved at heart and root     To burn as they, to burn and bring forth fruit     Unseasonable for loves sake; if tall trees     Bowed, and close flowers yearned open, and the breeze     Failed and fell silent as a flame that fails:     And all that hour unheard the nightingales     Clamoured, and all the woodland soul was stirred,     And depth and height were one great song unheard,     As though the world caught music and took fire     From the instant heart alone of their desire.     So sped their night of nights between them: so,     For all fears past and shadows, shine and snow,     That one pure hour all-golden where they lay     Made their life perfect and their darkness day.     And warmer waved its harvest yet to reap,     Till in the lovely fight of love and sleep     At length had sleep the mastery; and the dark     Was lit with soft live gleams they might not mark,     Fleet butterflies, each like a dead flowers ghost,     White, blue, and sere leaf-coloured; but the most     White as the sparkle of snow-flowers in the sun     Ere with his breath they lie at noon undone     Whose kiss devours their tender beauty, and leaves     But raindrops on the grass and sere thin leaves     That were engraven with traceries of the snow     Flowerwise ere any flower of earths would blow;     So swift they sprang and sank, so sweet and light     They swam the deep dim breathless air of night.     Now on her rose-white amorous breast half bare,     Now on her slumberous love-dishevelled hair,     The white wings lit and vanished, and afresh     Lit soft as snow lights on her snow-soft flesh,     On hand or throat or shoulder; and she stirred     Sleeping, and spake some tremulous bright word,     And laughed upon some dream too sweet for truth,     Yet not so sweet as very love and youth     That there had charmed her eyes to sleep at last.     Nor woke they till the perfect night was past,     And the soft sea thrilled with blind hope of light.     But ere the dusk had well the sun in sight     He turned and kissed her eyes awake and said,     Seeing earth and water neither quick nor dead     And twilight hungering toward the day to be,     As the dawn loves the sunlight I love thee.     And even as rays with cloudlets in the skies     Confused in brief loves bright contentious wise,     Sleep strove with sense rekindling in her eyes;     And as the flush of birth scarce overcame     The pale pure pearl of unborn light with flame     Soft as may touch the roses heart with shame     To break not all reluctant out of bud,     Stole up her sleeping cheek her waking blood;     And with the lovely laugh of love that takes     The whole soul prisoner ere the whole sense wakes,     Her lips for loves sake bade loves will be done.     And all the sea lay subject to the sun.