FOURTH STAVE

O singing heart, O twice-undaunted lover!

O ever to be blest, twice blest moreover!

Twice over win the world in one girl's eyes,

Twice over lift her name up to the skies;

Twice to hope all things, so to be twice born —

For he lives not who cannot front the morn

Saying, “This day I live as never yet

Lived striving man on earth!” What if the fret

Of loss and ten years’ agonizing snow

Thy hairs or leave their tracery on thy brow,

Each line beslotted by the demon hounds

Hunting thee down o’ nights? Laugh at thy wounds,

Laugh at thy eld, strong lover, whose blood flows

Clear from the fountain, singing as it goes,

“She loves, and so I live and shall not die!

Love on, love her:‘ tis immortality.”

Once more before the sun he greeted her:

She glowed her joy; her mood was calm and clear

As mellow evening's whenas, like a priest,

Rain has absolved the world, and golden mist

Hangs over all like benediction.

In her proud eyes sat triumph on a throne,

To know herself beloved, her lover by,

So near the consummation. Womanly

She dallied with the moment when, all wife,

Upon his breast she'd lie and cast her life,

Cast body, soul and spirit in one gest

Supreme of giving. Glorying in his quest

Of her, now let her hide what he must glean,

But not know yet. Ah, sweet to feel his keen

Long eye-search, like the touch of eager fingers,

And sweet to thrill beneath such hot blush-bringers;

To fence with such a swordsman hazardous

And sweet. “Belov'd, thou art glad of me!” Then thus

Antiphonal to him she breathes, “Thou sayest!”

“I see thy light and hail it!”

“Thou begayest

My poor light.”

“Knowest thou not that thou art loved?”

“And am I loved then?”

“If thou'ldst have it proved,

Look in my eyes. Would thine were open book!”

“Palimpsest I,” she said, and would not look.

But he was grappling now with truth, would have it,

What though it cost him all his gain. She gave it,

Looking him along. “O lady mine,” he said,

“Now are my clouds disperséd every shred;

For thou art mine; I think thou lovest me.

Speak, is that true?”

She could not, or may be

She would not hold her gaze, but let it fall,

And watched her fingers idling on the wall,

And so remained; but urged to it by the spell

He cast, she whispered down, “I cannot tell

Thee here, and thus apart” — which when he had

In its full import drove him well-nigh mad

With longing. “Call me and I come!”

But fear

Flamed in her eyes: “No, no,‘ tis death! He's here

At hand.‘ Tis death for thee, and worse than death —”

She ended so — “for both of us.”

And breath

Failed him, for well he knew now what she meant,

And sighed his thanks to Gods beneficent.

Thereafter in sweet use of lovers’ talk,

In boon spring weather, whenas lovers walk

Handfasted through the meadows pied, and wet

With dew from flower and leaf, these lovers met —

Two bodies separate, one wild heart between,

Day after day, these two long-severed been;

And of this mating of the eye and tongue

There grew desire passionate and strong

For body's mating and its testimony,

Hearts’ intimacy, perfect, full and free.

And Helen for her heart's ease did deny

Her girdled Goddess of the beamy eye,

Saying, “Come you down, Mistress of sleek loves

And panting nights: your service of bought doves

And honey-hearted wine may cost too dear.

What hast thou done for me since first my ear

With thy sly music thou didst sign and seal

Apprentice to thy mystery, teach me feel

Thy fierce divinity in the trembling touch

Of open lips? Served I not thee too much

In Kranai and in Sparta my demesne,

Too much in wide-wayed Ilios, Eastern Queen?

Yes, but it was too much a thousandfold,

For what was I but leman bought and sold?

“For woman craved what mercy hath man brought,

What face a woman for a woman sought?

What mercy or what face? And what saith she,

The hunted, scornéd wretch? Boast that she be

Coveted, hankered, spat on? One to gloat,

The rest to snarl without! If man play goat,

What must she play? Her glory is it to draw

On greedy eye, sting greedy lip and paw,

And find the crown of her desire therein?

Hath she no rarer bliss than all this sin,

Is she for dandling, kissing, hidden up

For hungry hands to stroke or lips to sup?

Hath she then nothing of her own, no mirth

In honesty, nor eyes to worship worth,

Nor pride except in that which makes men dogs,

Nor loathing for the vice wherein, like logs

That float beneath the sun, lie fair women

Submiss, inert receptacles for sin?

Is this her all? Hath she no heart, nor care

Therefor? No womb, nor hope therein to bear

Fruit of her heart's insurgence? Is her face,

Are these her breasts for fondling, not to grace

Her heart's high honour, swell to nurture it,

That it too grow? Hath she no mother-wit,

Nor sense for living things and innocent,

Nor leap of joy for this good world's content

Of sun and wind, of flower and leaf, and song

Of bird, or shout of children as they throng

The world of mated men and women? Nay,

Persuade me not, O Kypris; but I say

Evil hath been the lore which thou hast taught —

For many have loved my face, and many sought

My breast, and thought it joy supping thereat

Sweetness and dear delight; but out of that

What hath there come to them, to me and all

Mine but hot shame? Not milk, but bitter gall.”

So in her high passion she rent herself

And rocked, or hid her face upon the shelf

Of the grim wall, lest he should see the whole

Inexpiable sorrow of her soul.

But he by pity pure made bountiful

Lent her excuse, by every means to lull

Her agony. Said he, “Of mortals who

Can e'er withstand the way she wills them to,

Kypris the forceful Goddess? Nay, dear child,

Thou wert constrained.”

She said, “I was beguiled

And clung to him until the day-dawn broke

When I could read as in the roll of a book

His open heart. And then my own heart reeled

To know him craven, dog, not man, revealed

A panting drudge of lust, who held me here

Caged vessel. Nay, come close. I loved him dear,

Too dear, I know; but never till he came

Had known the leap of joy, the fire of flame

Upon the heart he gave me, Paris the bright,

Whose memory was music and his sight

Fragrance, whose nearness made my footfall dance,

Whose touch was fever, and his burning glance

Faintness and blindness; in whose light my life

Centred; who was the sun, and I, false wife,

The foolish flower that turns whereso he wheels

Over the broad earth's canopy, and steals

Colour from his strong beam, but at the last

Whenas the night comes and the day is past

Droops, burnt at the heart. So loved I him, and so

Waxed bold to dare the deed that brought this woe.”

And there she changed, and bitter was her cry:

“Ah, lord, far better had it been to die

Ere I had cast this pain on thee, and shame

On me, and wrought such outrage on our name.

Natheless I live ——”

“Ay, and give life!” he said;

“Yet this thing more I'd have thee tell — what led

Thy thought to me? From him, what turned thy troth —

Such troth as there could be?”

She cried, “The oath!

The oath ye sware before the Lords of Heaven,

The sacrifice, the pledges taken and given

When thou and Paris met upon the plain,

And all the host sat down to watch you twain

Do battle, which should have me. For my part,

They took me forth to watch; as in the mart

A heifer feels the giver of the feast

Pinch in her flank, and hears the chaffer twist

This way and that for so much fat or lean —

Even so was I, a queen, child of a queen.”

She bit her lip until the blood ran free,

And in her eyes he markt deep injury

Scald as the salt tears welled; but “Listen yet,”

She said: “Ye fought, and Paris fell beset

Under thy spurning heel, yet felt no whit

The bitterness as I must come to it;

For she, his Goddess, hid him up in mists

And brought him beat and broken from the lists

Here to his chamber. But I stood and burned,

Shameful to be by one lost, by one earned,

A prize for games, a slave, a bandied thing —

Since as the oath was made so must I swing

From bed to bed. But while I stood and wept,

Melted in fruitless sorrow, up she crept

For me, his Goddess, gliding like a snake,

Who wreathed her arms and whispering me go make

The nuptial couch,‘ What oath binds love?’ did say.

Loathing him, I must go. He had his way,

As well he might who paid that goodly price,

Honour, truth, courage, all, to have his vice:

The which forsook him when those fair things fled;

For though my body hath lain in his bed,

My heart abhors it. And now in truth I wis

My lord's true heart is where my own heart is,

The two together welded and made whole;

And I will go to him and give my soul

And shamed and faded body to his nod,

To spurn or take; and he shall be my God.”

Whereat made virgin, as all women are

By love's white purging fire which leaves no scar

Where all was soiled and seamed before the torch

Of Eros toucht the heart, and the keen scorch

Lickt up the foul misuse of vase so fair

As woman's body, Helen flusht and fair

Leaned from the wall a fire-hued seraph's face

And in one rapt long look gave and took Grace.

Deep in her eyes he saw the light divine,

Quick in him ran fierce joy of it like wine:

Light unto light made answer, as a flag

Answers when men tell tidings from one crag

Unto another, and from peak to peak

The good news flashes. Scarcely could he speak

Measurable words, so high his wild thought whirled:

“Bride, Goddess, Helen, O Wonder of the World,

Shall I come for thee?”

Her tender words came soft

As dropping rose petals on garden croft

Down from the wall's sheer height — “Come soon, come soon.”

And homing to the lines those drummed his tune.