Part 4

She that another wed Breaks from her vow; She that hath long been dead Wakes for thee now.

Dreams haunt the hapless bed, Ghosts haunt the night, Life crowns her living head, Love and Delight.

Nay, not a dream nor ghost, Nay, but Divine, She that was loved and lost Waits to be thine!

THE RESTORATION OF ROMANCE.

TO H. R. H., R. L. S., A. C. D., AND S. W.

KING Romance was wounded deep, All his knights were dead and gone, All his court was fallen on sleep, In a vale of Avalon! Nay, men said, he will not come, Any night or any morn. Nay, his puissant voice is dumb, Silent his enchanted horn!

King Romance was forfeited, Banished from his Royal home, With a price upon his head, Driven with sylvan folk to roam. King Romance is fallen, banned, Cried his foemen overbold, Broken is the wizard wand, All the stories have been told!

Then you came from South and North, From Tugela, from the Tweed, Blazoned his achievements forth, King Romance is come indeed! All his foes are overthrown, All their wares cast out in scorn, King Romance hath won his own, And the lands where he was born!

Marsac at adventure rides, Felon men meet felon scathe, Micah Clarke is taking sides For King Monmouth and the Faith; For a Cause or for a lass Men are willing to be slain, And the dungeons of the Bass Hold a prisoner again.

King Romance with wand of gold Sways the realms he ruled of yore. Hills Dalgetty roamed of old, Valleys of enchanted Kôr: Waves his sceptre o’er the isles, Claims the pirates’ treasuries, Through innumerable miles Of the siren-haunted seas!

Elfin folk of coast and cave, Laud him in the woven dance, All the tribes of wold and wave Bow the knee to King Romance! Wand’ring voices Chaucer knew On the mountain and the main, Cry the haunted forest through, King Romance has come again!

CENTRAL AMERICAN ANTIQUITIES

IN SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM

‘YOUTH and crabbed age Cannot live together;’ So they say.

On this little page See you when and whether That they may.

Age was very old— Stones from Chichimec Hardly wrung;

Youth had hair of gold Knotted on her neck— Fair and young!

Age was carved with odd Slaves, and priests that slew them— God and Beast;

Man and Beast and God— There she sat and drew them, King and Priest!

There she sat and drew Many a monstrous head And antique;

Horrors from Peru, Huacas doubly dead, Dead cacique!

Ere Pizarro came These were lords of men Long ago;

Gods without a name, Born or how or when, None may know!

Now from Yucatan These doth Science bear Over seas;

And methinks a man Finds youth doubly fair, Sketching these!

ON CALAIS SANDS

ON Calais Sands the grey began, Then rosy red above the grey, The morn with many a scarlet van Leap’d, and the world was glad with May! The little waves along the bay Broke white upon the shelving strands; The sea-mews flitted white as they On Calais Sands!

On Calais Sands must man with man Wash honour clean in blood to-day; On spaces wet from waters wan How white the flashing rapiers play, Parry, riposte! and lunge! The fray Shifts for a while, then mournful stands The Victor: life ebbs fast away On Calais Sands!