A Legend of Old Persia and Other Poems Part 7

And the Dreamer looked, and behold!

In a point to aeons withdrawn....

A scarce visible speck of light, His own sun like a mite, And the blur of his own little dawn.

II

Now the Dreamer, who rode by night In the car of the Spirit thro' s.p.a.ce, Came in the blue of June morning, In a mood betwixt pity and scorning, To the populous market-place.

Afar in the infinite blue Hung the snow-capped mountain-ranges; But round him moved the press Of the city's business In kaleidoscopic changes.

For the square was all life and all colour, All confusion and clamour, As dealers showed the paces Of colts, untamed in the traces, To the rap of the auctioneer's hammer.

He saw there the dusty sheep Trotting blindly amidst the throng; The swine with quivering snouts, The boys who urged them with shouts, The hawkers of picture and song;

The brown-skinned peasants trudging By their slow-paced bullock wains, With children asprawl the load, And wives who scolded and rode With an eye to their husbands' gains;

The hooknosed Orient merchants, Who came in the caravans And bargained over the prices Of silks and carpets and spices, Pearls and feathers and fans;

The clumsy sailors in ear-rings From the echoing harbour beach, With parrots and sh.e.l.ls for their wares, The light of the sun in their stares, The sound of the wind in their speech.

And the shrill-voiced changers of money Who sat with their clerks at the tables....

And it seemed to him all no matter As he gazed ... like the evening chatter Of starlings under his gables.

III

And lo! hard by at a pillar Two learned Sophists disputed, Taking the turn of speech And disciples applauded each Or else each other confuted

With babble and clenching of fist, And thrusting of face into face, And saying "Demus hath reason"

Or "Lycas hath conquered. The season Of Demus hath pa.s.sed, and his place

"Is with us no longer." And mildly The grave-eyed Dreamer watched them Shouting and seething and ranting.

But, when they perceived him, panting (For a sudden impulse s.n.a.t.c.hed them)

Ran up a crowd of both factions And cried, "Oh! Master, befriend us, For we all of us know thou art wisest, That thou speakest the truth and despisest No man and his need. Therefore lend us

"Thy wisdom in this our dilemma."

And the Dreamer answered, "I hear."

So they told him with quibble and chatter....

And it seemed to him all no matter Like the croaking of frogs in a mere.

IV

And behold! there ran thro' the market, Hard by where the Dreamer stood, A natural, void of desire Save for warmth of the sun or of fire Or for softness abed or food.

Naught held he dearer in mind, Save the branched lightning veins; And in naught more strongly rejoiced Save the sound of the thunder deep-voiced Or the fertile flash of the rains

Or the seas climbing into the harbour; And so thro' the market he ran Happy and careless and free (Him no man heeded for he Was a boy who would ne'er be a man)

Munching the gift of a cake, A pilfered apple or fig, Or danced with his shadow awhile, Smiling a secret smile, Or twirled a hued whirligig.

And the Dreamer called to him, "Come!"

As he skipped in the sun with his Shadow.

And the boy came doubtful and shy With a timid foot and eye, As a young horse comes in a meadow.

And the Dreamer touched his cheek And murmured, "Be not afraid,"

And the boy took heart and smiled, For the voice was tender and mild, And then half sadly it said,

"Oh! ye who have called me the Master, The Teller of Truth, and the Wise, Oh! ye who have strayed in the dark Give ear to my saying and mark, For I give you a pearl of price,

"A dark saying, and a hard saying To those who read it aright-- This natural, whom ye see, Is wiser, Oh! blind ones, than ye, And thus have I learned in the night."

DIALOGUES.

The Parting of Lancelot and Guinevere.

(Mallory paraphrased.)

"Be as be may," said Lancelot, "I go upon my quest."

So mounted he and rode alone Eight days into the West.

And to a nunnery came at last Hard by a forest ride, And walking in the cloister-shades Was by the Queen espied.

And, when she saw him, swooned she thrice And said, when speak she might, "Ye marvel why I make this fare?

'Tis truly for the sight Of yonder knight that standeth there, And so must ever be; Wherefore I pray you swiftly go And call him unto me."

And to them all said Guinevere When Lancelot was brought "Fair ladies, thro' this man and me Hath all this war been wrought, And death of the most n.o.blest knights Of whom we have record.

And thro' the love we loved is slain My own most n.o.ble lord.

Wherefor, Sir Lancelot, wit thou well, As thou dost wish my weal, That I am set in such a plight To get my dear soul heal.

For sinners were the Saints in Heaven And trust I in G.o.d's grace To sit that day at Christ's right hand And see His Blessed Face.

Therefore I heartily require And do beseech thee sore For all the love betwixt us was To see my face no more.

But bid thee now, on G.o.d's behalf, That thou my side forsake, And to thy kingdom turn again, And keep thy realm from wrake.

My heart, as well it loved thee once, Serveth me not arights To see thee, sithen is destroyed The flower of kings and knights.

Therefore now get thee to thy realm And take to thee a wife And live with her in joy and bliss, And pray G.o.d mend my life."

"Nay, Madam," said Sir Lancelot, "That shall I never do, For I should never be so false Of that I promised you.

But unto the same destiny As you I will me take, And cast me specially to pray For you, for Jesu's sake.

In you I take record of G.o.d, Mine earthly joy I found, And had you willed had taken you To dwell on mine own ground.

But sithen you are thus disposed And will the world forsake, Be now ensured that I likewise To penance will me take, And so, if haply I may find A hermit white or grey Who shall receive and shrive me clean, While lasteth life will pray.

Wherefore I pray you kiss me now, And never then no mo."

"Nay," said the Queen, "Oh! get thee gone, That can I never do."

So parted they with wondrous dole And swooned for their great teen And to her chamber scarce on live Her ladies bare the Queen.

But Lancelot woke at last and went And took his horse from keeping, And all that day and all that night Rode thro' a forest weeping.