Part 45 (1/2)

How shall he tremble lest her heart should tire?

--It is not so; his danger and his war, His days of triumph, and his years of care, She knows them not--yet shall she know some day The love that in his lonely longing lay.

What, Faithful--do I lie, that overshot My dream-web is with that which happeneth not?

Nay, nay, believe it not!--love lies alone In loving hearts like fire within the stone: Then strikes my hand, and lo, the flax ablaze!

--Those tales of empty striving, and lost days Folk tell of sometimes--never lit my fire Such ruin as this; but Pride and Vain-desire, My counterfeits and foes, have done the deed.

Beware, beloved! for they sow the weed Where I the wheat: they meddle where I leave, Take what I scorn, cast by what I receive, Sunder my yoke, yoke that I would dissever, Pull down the house my hands would build for ever.

_Scene: In a Forest among the Hills of a Foreign Land.

KING PHARAMOND, MASTER OLIVER_.

KING PHARAMOND

Stretch forth thine hand, foster-father, I know thee, And fain would be sure I am yet in the world: Where am I now, and what things have befallen?

Why am I so weary, and yet have wrought nothing?

MASTER OLIVER

Thou hast been sick, lord, but thy sickness abateth.

KING PHARAMOND

Thou art sad unto weeping: sorry rags are thy raiment, For I see thee a little now: where am I lying?

MASTER OLIVER

On the sere leaves thou liest, lord, deep in the wild wood

KING PHARAMOND

What meaneth all this? was I not Pharamond, A worker of great deeds after my father, Freer of my land from murder and wrong, Fain of folks' love, and no blencher in battle?

MASTER OLIVER

Yea, thou wert king and the kindest under heaven.

KING PHARAMOND