'CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME

71

IV.

For, what with my whole world-wide wandering,

What with my search drawn out thro' years, my hope
Dwindled into a ghost not fit to cope

With that obstreperous joy success would bring,-
I hardly tried now to rebuke the spring

My heart made, finding failure in its scope.

V.

As when a sick man very near to death

Seems dead indeed, and feels begin and end The tears and takes the farewell of each friend, And hears one bid the other go, draw breath Freelier outside ('since all is o'er,' he saith,

'And the blow fallen no grieving can amend');

VI.

While some discuss if near the other graves
Be room enough for this, and when a day
Suits best for carrying the corpse away,
With care about the banners, scarves, and staves:
And still the man hears all, and only craves

He may not shame such tender love and stay.

VII.

Thus, I had so long suffered in this quest,

Heard failure prophesied so oft, been writ

So many times among 'The Band'—to wit,

21

25

30

The knights who to the Dark Tower's search addressed
Their steps-that just to fail as they, seemed best,
And all the doubt was now-should I be fit?

VIII.

35

41

So, quiet as despair, I turned from him,

That hateful cripple, out of his highway
Into the path he pointed. All the day

45

Had been a dreary one at best, and dim
Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim
Red leer to see the plain catch its estray.

IX.

For mark! no sooner was I fairly found
Pledged to the plain, after a pace or two,

Than, pausing to throw backward a last view

O'er the safe road, 't was gone; gray plain all round: Nothing but plain to the horizon's bound.

I might go on; nought else remained to do.

X.

So on I went. I think I never saw

Such starved ignoble nature; nothing throve:
For flowers-as well expect a cedar grove!
But cockle, spurge, according to their law
Might propagate their kind, with none to awe,
You'd think; a burr had been a treasure trove.

XI.

No! penury, inertness, and grimace,

In some strange sort, were the land's portion. 'See Or shut your eyes,' said Nature peevishly,

'It nothing skills; I cannot help my case:

'T is the Last Judgment's fire must cure this place, Calcine its clods and set my prisoners free.'

XII.

If there pushed any ragged thistle-stalk

50

Above its mates, the head was chopped; the bents Were jealous else. What made those holes and rents In the dock's harsh swarth leaves, bruised as to baulk All hope of greenness? 't is a brute must walk

Pashing their life out, with a brute's intents.

55

60

65

70

'CHILDE Roland to THE DARK TOWER CAME.

73

XIII.

As for the grass, it grew as scant as hair

In leprosy; thin dry blades pricked the mud

Which underneath looked kneaded up with blood. 75 One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare,

Stood stupefied, however he came there;

Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!

XIV.

Alive? he might be dead for aught I know,

With that red gaunt and colloped neck a-strain,
And shut eyes underneath the rusty mane;
Seldom went such grotesqueness with such woe;
I never saw a brute I hated so;

He must be wicked to deserve such pain.

XV.

I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart.
As a man calls for wine before he fights,
I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights,
Ere fitly I could hope to play my part.
Think first, fight afterwards—the soldier's art;
One taste of the old time sets all to rights.

XVI.

Not it! I fancied Cuthbert's reddening face.
Beneath its garniture of curly gold,
Dear fellow, till I almost felt him fold
An arm in mine to fix me to the place,
That way he used. Alas, one night's disgrace!
Out went my heart's new fire and left it cold.

XVII.

Giles then, the soul of honour-there he stands
Frank as ten years ago when knighted first.

What honest man should dare (he said) he durst.

80

85

90

95

Had been a dreary one at best, and dim
Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim
Red leer to see the plain catch its estray.

IX.

For mark! no sooner was I fairly found
Pledged to the plain, after a pace or two,

Than, pausing to throw backward a last view

O'er the safe road, 't was gone; gray plain all round: Nothing but plain to the horizon's bound.

I might go on; nought else remained to do.

X.

So on I went. I think I never saw

Such starved ignoble nature; nothing throve:
For flowers-as well expect a cedar grove!
But cockle, spurge, according to their law
Might propagate their kind, with none to awe,
You'd think; a burr had been a treasure trove.

XI.

No! penury, inertness, and grimace,

In some strange sort, were the land's portion. 'See Or shut your eyes,' said Nature peevishly,

'It nothing skills; I cannot help my case:

'Tis the Last Judgment's fire must cure this place, Calcine its clods and set my prisoners free.'

XII.

If there pushed any ragged thistle-stalk

50

55

60

65

Above its mates, the head was chopped; the bents Were jealous else. What made those holes and rents In the dock's harsh swarth leaves, bruised as to baulk All hope of greenness? 't is a brute must walk Pashing their life out, with a brute's intents.

70

'CHILDE ROLAND TO THE dark tower CAME. 73

XIII.

As for the grass, it grew as scant as hair

In leprosy; thin dry blades pricked the mud.
Which underneath looked kneaded up with blood.
One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare,
Stood stupefied, however he came there;

Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!

XIV.

Alive? he might be dead for aught I know,

With that red gaunt and colloped neck a-strain,
And shut eyes underneath the rusty mane;
Seldom went such grotesqueness with such woe;
I never saw a brute I hated so;

He must be wicked to deserve such pain.

XV.

I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart.
As a man calls for wine before he fights,
I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights,
Ere fitly I could hope to play my part.
Think first, fight afterwards—the soldier's art;
One taste of the old time sets all to rights.

XVI.

Not it! I fancied Cuthbert's reddening face
Beneath its garniture of curly gold,
Dear fellow, till I almost felt him fold
An arm in mine to fix me to the place,
That way he used. Alas, one night's disgrace!
Out went my heart's new fire and left it cold.

XVII.

Giles then, the soul of honour-there he stands
Frank as ten years ago when knighted first.

What honest man should dare (he said) he durst.