按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
How sad it were for Arthur； should he live；
To sit once more within his lonely hall；
And miss the wonted number of my knights；
And miss to hear high talk of noble deeds
As in the golden days before thy sin。
For which of us； who might be left； could speak
Of the pure heart； nor seem to glance at thee？
And in thy bowers of Camelot or of Usk
Thy shadow still would glide from room to room；
And I should evermore be vext with thee
In hanging robe or vacant ornament；
Or ghostly footfall echoing on the stair。
For think not； though thou wouldst not love thy lord；
Thy lord hast wholly lost his love for thee。
I am not made of so slight elements。
Yet must I leave thee； woman； to thy shame。
I hold that man the worst of public foes
Who either for his own or children's sake；
To save his blood from scandal； lets the wife
Whom he knows false； abide and rule the house：
For being through his cowardice allowed
Her station； taken everywhere for pure；
She like a new disease； unknown to men；
Creeps； no precaution used； among the crowd；
Makes wicked lightnings of her eyes； and saps
The fealty of our friends； and stirs the pulse
With devil's leaps； and poisons half the young。
Worst of the worst were that man he that reigns！
Better the King's waste hearth and aching heart
Than thou reseated in thy place of light；
The mockery of my people； and their bane。'
He paused； and in the pause she crept an inch
Nearer； and laid her hands about his feet。
Far off a solitary trumpet blew。
Then waiting by the doors the warhorse neighed
At a friend's voice； and he spake again：
'Yet think not that I come to urge thy crimes；
I did not come to curse thee； Guinevere；
I； whose vast pity almost makes me die
To see thee； laying there thy golden head；
My pride in happier summers； at my feet。
The wrath which forced my thoughts on that fierce law；
The doom of treason and the flaming death；
（When first I learnt thee hidden here） is past。
The pangwhich while I weighed thy heart with one
Too wholly true to dream untruth in thee；
Made my tears burnis also pastin part。
And all is past； the sin is sinned； and I；
Lo！ I forgive thee； as Eternal God
Forgives： do thou for thine own soul the rest。
But how to take last leave of all I loved？
O golden hair； with which I used to play
Not knowing！ O imperial…moulded form；
And beauty such as never woman wore；
Until it became a kingdom's curse with thee
I cannot touch thy lips； they are not mine；
But Lancelot's： nay； they never were the King's。
I cannot take thy hand： that too is flesh；
And in the flesh thou hast sinned； and mine own flesh；
Here looking down on thine polluted； cries
〃I loathe thee：〃 yet not less； O Guinevere；
For I was ever virgin save for thee；
My love through flesh hath wrought into my life
So far； that my doom is； I love thee still。
Let no man dream but that I love thee still。
Perchance； and so thou purify thy soul；
And so thou lean on our fair father Christ；
Hereafter in that world where all are pure
We two may meet before high God； and thou
Wilt spring to me； and claim me thine； and know
I am thine husbandnot a smaller soul；
Nor Lancelot； nor another。 Leave me that；
I charge thee； my last hope。 Now must I hence。
Through the thick night I hear the trumpet blow：
They summon me their King to lead mine hosts
Far down to that great battle in the west；
Where I must strike against the man they call
My sister's sonno kin of mine； who leagues
With Lords of the White Horse； heathen； and knights；
Traitorsand strike him dead； and meet myself
Death； or I know not what mysterious doom。
And thou remaining here wilt learn the event；
But hither shall I never come again；
Never lie by thy side； see thee no more
Farewell！'
And while she grovelled at his feet；
She felt the King's breath wander o'er her neck；
And in the darkness o'er her fallen head；
Perceived the waving of his hands that blest。
Then； listening till those armed steps were gone；
Rose the pale Queen； and in her anguish found
The casement： 'peradventure；' so she thought；
'If I might see his face； and not be seen。'
And lo； he sat on horseback at the door！
And near him the sad nuns with each a light
Stood； and he gave them charge about the Queen；
To guard and foster her for evermore。
And while he spake to these his helm was lowered；
To which for crest the golden dragon clung
Of Britain； so she did not see the face；
Which then was as an angel's； but she saw；
Wet with the mists and smitten by the lights；
The Dragon of the great Pendragonship
Blaze； making all the night a steam of fire。
And even then he turned； and more and more
The moony vapour rolling round the King；
Who seemed the phantom of a Giant in it；
Enwound him fold by fold； and made him gray
And grayer； till himself became as mist
Before her； moving ghostlike to his doom。
Then she stretched out her arms and cried aloud
'Oh Arthur！' there her voice brake suddenly；
Thenas a stream that spouting from a cliff
Fails in mid air； but gathering at the base
Re…makes itself； and flashes down the vale
Went on in passionate utterance：
'Gonemy lord！
Gone through my sin to slay and to be slain！
And he forgave me； and I could not speak。
Farewell？ I should have answered his farewell。
His mercy choked me。 Gone； my lord the King；
My own true lord！ how dare I call him mine？
The shadow of another cleaves to me；
And makes me one pollution： he； the King；
Called me polluted： shall I kill myself？
What help in that？ I cannot kill my sin；
If soul be soul； nor can I kill my shame；
No； nor by living can I live it down。
The days will grow to weeks； the weeks to months
The months will add themselves and make the years；
The years will roll into the centuries；
And mine will ever be a name of scorn。
I must not dwell on that defeat of fame。
Let the world be； that is but of the world。
What else？ what hope？ I think there was a hope；
Except he mocked me when he spake of hope；
His hope he called it； but he never mocks；
For mockery is the fume of little hearts。
And blessed be the King； who hath forgiven
My wickedness to him； and left me hope
That in mine own heart I can live down sin
And be his mate hereafter in the heavens
Before high God。 Ah great and gentle lord；
Who wast； as is the conscience of a saint
Among his warring senses； to thy knights
To whom my false voluptuous pride； that took
Full easily all impressions from below；
Would not look up； or half…despised the height
To which I would not or I could not climb
I thought I could not breathe in that fine air
That pure severity of perfect light
I yearned for warmth and colour which I found
In Lancelotnow I see thee what thou art；
Thou art the highest and most human too；
Not Lancelot； nor another。 Is there none
Will tell the King I love him though so late？
Nowere he goes to the great Battle？ none：
Myself must tell him in that purer life；
But now it were too daring。 Ah my God；
What might I not have made of thy fair world；
Had I but loved thy highest creature here？
It was my duty to have loved the highest：
It surely was my profit had I known：
It would have been my pleasure had I seen。
We needs must love the highest when we see it；
Not Lancelot； nor another。'
Here her hand
Grasped； made her vail her eyes： she looked and saw
The novice； weeping； suppliant； and said to her；
'Yea； little maid； for am I not forgiven？'
Then glancing up beheld the holy nuns
All round her； weeping； and her heart was loosed
Within her； and she wept with these and said；
'Ye know me then； that wicked one； who broke
The vast design and purpose of the King。
O shut me round with narrowing nunnery…walls；
Meek maidens； from the voices crying 〃shame。〃
I must not scorn myself： he loves me still。
Let no one dream but that he loves me still。
So let me； if you do not shudder at me；
Nor shun to call me sister； dwell with you；
Wear black and white； and be a nun like you；
Fast with your fasts； not feasting with your feasts；
Grieve with your griefs； not grieving at your joys；
But not rejoicing； mingle with your rites；
Pray and be prayed for； lie before your shrines；
Do each low office of your holy house；
Walk your dim cloister； and distribute dole
To poor sick people； richer in His eyes
Who ransomed us； and haler too than I；
And treat their loathsome hurts and heal mine own；
And so wear out in almsdeed and in prayer
The sombre close of that voluptuous day；
Which wrought the ruin of my lord the King。'
She said： they took her to themselves； and she
Still hoping； fearing 'is it yet too late？'
Dwelt with them； till in time their Abbess died。
Then she； for her good deeds and her pure life；
And for the power of ministration in her；
And likewise for the high rank she had borne；
Was chosen Abbess； there； an Abbess； lived
For three brief years； and there； an Abbess； past
To where beyond these voices there is peace。
The Passing of Arthur
That story which the bold Sir Bedivere；
First made and latest left of all the knights；
Told； when the man was no more than a voice
In the white winter of his age； to those
With whom he dwelt； new faces；