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Tristram of Lyonesse - II - The Queen's Pleasance

by Algernon Charles Swinburne

Out of the night arose the second day,

And saw the ship's bows break the shoreward spray.

As the sun's boat of gold and fire began

To sail the sea of heaven unsailed of man,

And the soft waves of sacred air to break

Round the prow launched into the morning's lake,

They saw the sign of their sea-travel done.

Ah, was not something seen of yester-sun,

When the sweet light that lightened all the skies

Saw nothing fairer than one maiden's eyes,

That whatsoever in all time's years may be

To-day's sun nor to-morrow's sun shall see?

Not while she lives, not when she comes to die,

Shall she look sunward with that sinless eye.

Yet fairer now than song may show them stand

Tristram and Iseult, hand in amorous hand,

Soul-satisfied, their eyes made great and bright

With all the love of all the livelong night;

With all its hours yet singing in their ears

No mortal music made of thoughts and tears,

But such a song, past conscience of man's thought,

As hearing he grows god and knows it not.

Nought else they saw nor heard but what the night

Had left for seal upon their sense and sight,

Sound of past pulses beating, fire of amorous light.

Enough, and overmuch, and never yet

Enough, though love still hungering feed and fret,

To fill the cup of night which dawn must overset.

For still their eyes were dimmer than with tears

And dizzier from diviner sounds their ears

Than though from choral thunders of the quiring spheres.

They heard not how the landward waters rang,

Nor saw where high into the morning sprang,

Riven from the shore and bastioned with the sea,

Toward summits where the north wind's nest might be,

A wave-walled palace with its eastern gate

Full of the sunrise now and wide at wait,

And on the mighty-moulded stairs that clomb

Sheer from the fierce lip of the lapping foam

The knights of Mark that stood before the wall.

So with loud joy and storm of festival

They brought the bride in up the towery way

That rose against the rising front of day,

Stair based on stair, between the rocks unhewn,

To those strange halls wherethrough the tidal tune

Rang loud or lower from soft or strengthening sea,

Tower shouldering tower, to windward and to lee,

With change of floors and stories, flight on flight,

That clomb and curled up to the crowning height

Whence men might see wide east and west in one

And on one sea waned moon and mounting sun.

And severed from the sea-rock's base, where stand

Some worn walls yet they saw the broken strand,

The beachless cliff that in the sheer sea dips,

The sleepless shore inexorable to ships,

And the straight causeway's bare gaunt spine between

The sea-spanned walls and naked mainland's green.

On the mid stairs, between the light and dark,

Before the main tower's portal stood King Mark,

Crowned: and his face was as the face of one

Long time athirst and hungering for the sun

In barren thrall of bitter bonds, who now

Thinks here to feel its blessing on his brow.

A swart lean man, but kinglike, still of guise,

With black streaked beard and cold unquiet eyes,

Close-mouthed, gaunt-cheeked, wan as a morning moon,

Though hardly time on his worn hair had strewn

The thin first ashes from a sparing hand:

Yet little fire there burnt upon the brand,

And way-worn seemed he with life's wayfaring.

So between shade and sunlight stood the king,

And his face changed nor yearned not toward his bride;

But fixed between mild hope and patient pride

Abode what gift of rare or lesser worth

This day might bring to all his days on earth.

But at the glory of her when she came

His heart endured not: very fear and shame

Smote him, to take her by the hand and kiss,

Till both were molten in the burning bliss,

And with a thin flame flushing his cold face

He led her silent to the bridal place.

There were they wed and hallowed of the priest;

And all the loud time of the marriage feast

One thought within three hearts was as a fire,

Where craft and faith took counsel with desire.

For when the feast had made a glorious end

They gave the new queen for her maids to tend

At dawn of bride-night, and thereafter bring

With marriage music to the bridegroom king.

Then by device of craft between them laid

To him went Brangwain delicately, and prayed

That this thing even for love's sake might not be,

But without sound or light or eye to see

She might come in to bride-bed: and he laughed,

As one that wist not well of wise love's craft,

And bade all bridal things be as she would.

Yet of his gentleness he gat not good;

For clothed and covered with the nuptial dark

Soft like a bride came Brangwain to King Mark,

And to the queen came Tristram; and the night

Fled, and ere danger of detective light

From the king sleeping Brangwain slid away,

And where had lain her handmaid Iseult lay.

And the king waking saw beside his head

That face yet passion-coloured, amorous red

From lips not his, and all that strange hair shed

Across the tissued pillows, fold on fold,

Innumerable, incomparable, all gold,

To fire men's eyes with wonder, and with love

Men's hearts; so shone its flowering crown above

The brows enwound with that imperial wreath,

And framed with fragrant radiance round the face beneath.

And the king marvelled, seeing with sudden start

Her very glory, and said out of his heart;

'What have I done of good for God to bless

That all this he should give me, tress on tress,

All this great wealth and wondrous? Was it this

That in mine arms I had all night to kiss,

And mix with me this beauty? this that seems

More fair than heaven doth in some tired saint's dreams,

Being part of that same heaven? yea, more, for he,

Though loved of God so, yet but seems to see,

But to me sinful such great grace is given

That in mine hands I hold this part of heaven,

Not to mine eyes lent merely. Doth God make

Such things so godlike for man's mortal sake?

Have I not sinned, that in this fleshly life

Have made of her a mere man's very wife?'

So the king mused and murmured; and she heard

The faint sound trembling of each breathless word,

And laughed into the covering of her hair.

And many a day for many a month as fair

Slid over them like music; and as bright

Burned with love's offerings many a secret night.

And many a dawn to many a fiery noon

Blew prelude, when the horn's heart-kindling tune

Lit the live woods with sovereign sound of mirth

Before the mightiest huntsman hailed on earth

Lord of its lordliest pleasure, where he rode

Hard by her rein whose peerless presence glowed

Not as that white queen's of the virgin hunt

Once, whose crown-crescent braves the night-wind's brunt,

But with the sun for frontlet of a queenlier front.

For where the flashing of her face was turned

As lightning was the fiery light that burned

From eyes and brows enkindled more with speed

And rapture of the rushing of her steed

Than once with only beauty; and her mouth

Was as a rose athirst that pants for drouth

Even while it laughs for pleasure of desire,

And all her heart was as a leaping fire.

Yet once more joy they took of woodland ways

Than came of all those flushed and fiery days

When the loud air was mad with life and sound,

Through many a dense green mile, of horn and hound

Before the king's hunt going along the wind,

And ere the timely leaves were changed or thinned,

Even in mid maze of summer. For the knight

Forth was once ridden toward some frontier fight

Against the lewd folk of the Christless lands

That warred with wild and intermittent hands

Against the king's north border; and there came

A knight unchristened yet of unknown name,

Swart Palamede, upon a secret quest,

To high Tintagel, and abode as guest

In likeness of a minstrel with the king.

Nor was there man could sound so sweet a string,

Save Tristram only, of all held best on earth.

And one loud eve, being full of wine and mirth,

Ere sunset left the walls and waters dark,

To that strange minstrel strongly swore King Mark,

By all that makes a knight's faith firm and strong,

That he for guerdon of his harp and song

Might crave and have his liking. Straight there came

Up the swart cheek a flash of swarthier flame,

And the deep eyes fulfilled of glittering night

Laughed out in lightnings of triumphant light

As the grim harper spake: 'O king, I crave

No gift of man that king may give to slave,

But this thy crowned queen only, this thy wife,

Whom yet unseen I loved, and set my life

On this poor chance to compass, even as here,

Being fairer famed than all save Guenevere.'

Then as the noise of seaward storm that mocks

With roaring laughter from reverberate rocks

The cry from ships near shipwreck, harsh and high

Rose all the wrath and wonder in one cry

Through all the long roof's hollow depth and length

That hearts of strong men kindled in their strength

May speak in laughter lion-like, and cease,

Being wearied: only two men held their peace

And each glared hard on other: but King Mark

Spake first of these: 'Man, though thy craft be dark

And thy mind evil that begat this thing,

Yet stands the word once plighted of a king

Fast: and albeit less evil it were for me

To give my life up than my wife, or be

A landless man crowned only with a curse,

Yet this in God's and all men's sight were worse,

To live soul-shamed, a man of broken troth,

Abhorred of men as I abhor mine oath

Which yet I may forswear not.' And he bowed

His head, and wept: and all men wept aloud,

Save one, that heard him weeping: but the queen

Wept not: and statelier yet than eyes had seen

That ever looked upon her queenly state

She rose, and in her eyes her heart was great

And full of wrath seen manifest and scorn

More strong than anguish to go thence forlorn

Of all men's comfort and her natural right.

And they went forth into the dawn of night.

Long by wild ways and clouded light they rode,

Silent; and fear less keen at heart abode

With Iseult than with Palamede: for awe

Constrained him, and the might of love's high law,

That can make lewd men loyal; and his heart

Yearned on her, if perchance with amorous art

And soothfast skill of very love he might

For courtesy find favour in her sight

And comfort of her mercies: for he wist

More grace might come of that sweet mouth unkissed

Than joy for violence done it, that should make

His name abhorred for shame's disloyal sake.

And in the stormy starlight clouds were thinned

And thickened by short gusts of changing wind

That panted like a sick man's fitful breath:

And like a moan of lions hurt to death

Came the sea's hollow noise along the night.

But ere its gloom from aught but foam had light

They halted, being aweary: and the knight

As reverently forbore her where she lay

As one that watched his sister's sleep till day.

Nor durst he kiss or touch her hand or hair

For love and shamefast pity, seeing how fair

She slept, and fenceless from the fitful air.

And shame at heart stung nigh to death desire,

But grief at heart burned in him like a fire

For hers and his own sorrowing sake, that had

Such grace for guerdon as makes glad men sad,

To have their will and want it. And the day

Sprang: and afar along the wild waste way

They heard the pulse and press of hurrying horse-hoofs play:

And like the rushing of a ravenous flame

Whose wings make tempest of the darkness, came

Upon them headlong as in thunder borne

Forth of the darkness of the labouring morn

Tristram: and up forthright upon his steed

Leapt, as one blithe of battle, Palamede,

And mightily with shock of horse and man

They lashed together: and fair that fight began

As fair came up that sunrise: to and fro,

With knees nigh staggered and stout heads bent low

From each quick shock of spears on either side,

Reeled the strong steeds heavily, haggard-eyed

And heartened high with passion of their pride

As sheer the stout spears shocked again, and flew

Sharp-splintering: then, his sword as each knight drew,

They flashed and foined full royally, so long

That but to see so fair a strife and strong

A man might well have given out of his life

One year's void space forlorn of love or strife.

As when a bright north-easter, great of heart,

Scattering the strengths of squadrons, hurls apart

Ship from ship labouring violently, in such toil

As earns but ruin'with even so strong recoil

Back were the steeds hurled from the spear-shock, fain

And foiled of triumph: then with tightened rein

And stroke of spur, inveterate, either knight

Bore in again upon his foe with might,

Heart-hungry for the hot-mouthed feast of fight

And all athirst of mastery: but full soon

The jarring notes of that tempestuous tune

Fell, and its mighty music made of hands

Contending, clamorous through the loud waste lands,

Broke at once off; and shattered from his steed

Fell, as a mainmast ruining, Palamede,

Stunned: and those lovers left him where he lay,

And lightly through green lawns they rode away.

There was a bower beyond man's eye more fair

Than ever summer dews and sunniest air

Fed full with rest and radiance till the boughs

Had wrought a roof as for a holier house

Than aught save love might breathe in; fairer far

Than keeps the sweet light back of moon and star

From high kings' chambers: there might love and sleep

Divide for joy the darkling hours, and keep

With amorous alternation of sweet strife

The soft and secret ways of death and life

Made smooth for pleasure's feet to rest and run

Even from the moondawn to the kindling sun,

Made bright for passion's feet to run and rest

Between the midnight's and the morning's breast,

Where hardly though her happy head lie down

It may forget the hour that wove its crown;

Where hardly though her joyous limbs be laid

They may forget the mirth that midnight made.

And thither, ere sweet night had slain sweet day,

Iseult and Tristram took their wandering way,

And rested, and refreshed their hearts with cheer

In hunters' fashion of the woods; and here

More sweet it seemed, while this might be, to dwell

And take of all world's weariness farewell

Than reign of all world's lordship queen and king.

Nor here would time for three moons' changes bring

Sorrow nor thought of sorrow; but sweet earth

Fostered them like her babes of eldest birth,

Reared warm in pathless woods and cherished well.

And the sun sprang above the sea and fell,

And the stars rose and sank upon the sea;

And outlaw-like, in forest wise and free,

The rising and the setting of their lights

Found those twain dwelling all those days and nights.

And under change of sun and star and moon

Flourished and fell the chaplets woven of June,

And fair through fervours of the deepening sky

Panted and passed the hours that lit July,

And each day blessed them out of heaven above,

And each night crowned them with the crown of love.

Nor till the might of August overhead

Weighed on the world was yet one roseleaf shed

Of all their joy's warm coronal, nor aught

Touched them in passing ever with a thought

That ever this might end on any day

Or any night not love them where they lay;

But like a babbling tale of barren breath

Seemed all report and rumour held of death,

And a false bruit the legend tear-impearled

That such a thing as change was in the world.

And each bright song upon his lips that came,

Mocking the powers of change and death by name,

Blasphemed their bitter godhead, and defied

Time, though clothed round with ruin as kings with pride,

To blot the glad life out of love: and she

Drank lightly deep of his philosophy

In that warm wine of amorous words which is

Sweet with all truths of all philosophies.

For well he wist all subtle ways of song,

And in his soul the secret eye was strong

That burns in meditation, till bright words

Break flamelike forth as notes from fledgeling birds

That feel the soul speak through them of the spring.

So fared they night and day as queen and king

Crowned of a kingdom wide as day and night.

Nor ever cloudlet swept or swam in sight

Across the darkling depths of their delight

Whose stars no skill might number, nor man's art

Sound the deep stories of its heavenly heart.

Till, even for wonder that such life should live,

Desires and dreams of what death's self might give

Would touch with tears and laughter and wild speech

The lips and eyes of passion, fain to reach,

Beyond all bourne of time or trembling sense,

The verge of love's last possible eminence.

Out of the heaven that storm nor shadow mars,

Deep from the starry depth beyond the stars,

A yearning ardour without scope or name

Fell on them, and the bright night's breath of flame

Shot fire into their kisses; and like fire

The lit dews lightened on the leaves, as higher

Night's heart beat on toward midnight. Far and fain

Somewhiles the soft rush of rejoicing rain

Solaced the darkness, and from steep to steep

Of heaven they saw the sweet sheet lightning leap

And laugh its heart out in a thousand smiles,

When the clear sea for miles on glimmering miles

Burned as though dawn were strewn abroad astray,

Or, showering out of heaven, all heaven's array

Had paven instead the waters: fain and far

Somewhiles the burning love of star for star

Spake words that love might wellnigh seem to hear

In such deep hours as turn delight to fear

Sweet as delight's self ever. So they lay

Tranced once, nor watched along the fiery bay

The shine of summer darkness palpitate and play.

She had nor sight nor voice; her swooning eyes

Knew not if night or light were in the skies;

Across her beauty sheer the moondawn shed

Its light as on a thing as white and dead;

Only with stress of soft fierce hands she prest

Between the throbbing blossoms of her breast

His ardent face, and through his hair her breath

Went quivering as when life is hard on death;

And with strong trembling fingers she strained fast

His head into her bosom; till at last,

Satiate with sweetness of that burning bed,

His eyes afire with tears, he raised his head

And laughed into her lips; and all his heart

Filled hers; then face from face fell, and apart

Each hung on each with panting lips, and felt

Sense into sense and spirit in spirit melt.

'Hast thou no sword? I would not live till day;

O love, this night and we must pass away,

It must die soon, and let not us die late.'

'Take then my sword and slay me; nay, but wait

Till day be risen; what, wouldst thou think to die

Before the light take hold upon the sky?'

'Yea, love; for how shall we have twice, being twain,

This very night of love's most rapturous reign?

Live thou and have thy day, and year by year

Be great, but what shall I be? Slay me here;

Let me die not when love lies dead, but now

Strike through my heart: nay, sweet, what heart hast thou?

Is it so much I ask thee, and spend my breath

In asking? nay, thou knowest it is but death.

Hadst thou true heart to love me, thou wouldst give

This: but for hate's sake thou wilt let me live.'

Here he caught up her lips with his, and made

The wild prayer silent in her heart that prayed,

And strained her to him till all her faint breath sank

And her bright light limbs palpitated and shrank

And rose and fluctuated as flowers in rain

That bends them and they tremble and rise again

And heave and straighten and quiver all through with bliss

And turn afresh their mouths up for a kiss,

Amorous, athirst of that sweet influent love;

So, hungering towards his hovering lips above,

Her red-rose mouth yearned silent, and her eyes

Closed, and flashed after, as through June's darkest skies

The divine heartbeats of the deep live light

Make open and shut the gates of the outer night.

Long lay they still, subdued with love, nor knew

If cloud or light changed colour as it grew,

If star or moon beheld them; if above

The heaven of night waxed fiery with their love,

Or earth beneath were moved at heart and root

To burn as they, to burn and bring forth fruit

Unseasonable for love's sake; if tall trees

Bowed, and close flowers yearned open, and the breeze

Failed and fell silent as a flame that fails:

And all that hour unheard the nightingales

Clamoured, and all the woodland soul was stirred,

And depth and height were one great song unheard,

As though the world caught music and took fire

From the instant heart alone of their desire.

So sped their night of nights between them: so,

For all fears past and shadows, shine and snow,

That one pure hour all-golden where they lay

Made their life perfect and their darkness day.

And warmer waved its harvest yet to reap,

Till in the lovely fight of love and sleep

At length had sleep the mastery; and the dark

Was lit with soft live gleams they might not mark,

Fleet butterflies, each like a dead flower's ghost,

White, blue, and sere leaf-coloured; but the most

White as the sparkle of snow-flowers in the sun

Ere with his breath they lie at noon undone

Whose kiss devours their tender beauty, and leaves

But raindrops on the grass and sere thin leaves

That were engraven with traceries of the snow

Flowerwise ere any flower of earth's would blow;

So swift they sprang and sank, so sweet and light

They swam the deep dim breathless air of night.

Now on her rose-white amorous breast half bare,

Now on her slumberous love-dishevelled hair,

The white wings lit and vanished, and afresh

Lit soft as snow lights on her snow-soft flesh,

On hand or throat or shoulder; and she stirred

Sleeping, and spake some tremulous bright word,

And laughed upon some dream too sweet for truth,

Yet not so sweet as very love and youth

That there had charmed her eyes to sleep at last.

Nor woke they till the perfect night was past,

And the soft sea thrilled with blind hope of light.

But ere the dusk had well the sun in sight

He turned and kissed her eyes awake and said,

Seeing earth and water neither quick nor dead

And twilight hungering toward the day to be,

'As the dawn loves the sunlight I love thee.'

And even as rays with cloudlets in the skies

Confused in brief love's bright contentious wise,

Sleep strove with sense rekindling in her eyes;

And as the flush of birth scarce overcame

The pale pure pearl of unborn light with flame

Soft as may touch the rose's heart with shame

To break not all reluctant out of bud,

Stole up her sleeping cheek her waking blood;

And with the lovely laugh of love that takes

The whole soul prisoner ere the whole sense wakes,

Her lips for love's sake bade love's will be done.

And all the sea lay subject to the sun.