free-verse230 lines

Tristram of Lyonesse - IV - The Maiden Marriage

by Algernon Charles Swinburne

Spring watched her last moon burn and fade with May

While the days deepened toward a bridal day.

And on her snowbright hand the ring was set

While in the maiden's ear the song's word yet

Hovered, that hailed as love's own queen by name

Iseult: and in her heart the word was flame;

A pulse of light, a breath of tender fire,

Too dear for doubt, too driftless for desire.

Between her father's hand and brother's led

From hall to shrine, from shrine to marriage-bed,

She saw not how by hap at home-coming

Fell from her new lord's hand a royal ring,

Whereon he looked, and felt the pulse astart

Speak passion in his faith-forsaken heart.

For this was given him of the hand wherein

That heart's pledge lay for ever: so the sin

That should be done if truly he should take

This maid to wife for strange love's faithless sake

Struck all his mounting spirit abashed, and fear

Fell cold for shame's sake on his changing cheer.

Yea, shame's own fire that burned upon his brow

To bear the brand there of a broken vow

Was frozen again for very fear thereof

That wrung his heart with keener pangs than love.

And all things rose upon him, all things past

Ere last they parted, cloven in twain at last,

Iseult from Tristram, Tristram from the queen;

And how men found them in the wild woods green

Sleeping, but sundered by the sword between,

Dividing breast from amorous breast a span,

But scarce in heart the woman from the man

As far as hope from joy or sleep from truth,

And Mark that saw them held for sacred sooth

These were no fleshly lovers, by that sign

That severed them, still slumbering; so divine

He deemed it: how at waking they beheld

The king's folk round the king, and uncompelled

Were fain to follow and fare among them home

Back to the towers washed round with rolling foam

And storied halls wherethrough sea-music rang:

And how report thereafter swelled and sprang,

A full-mouthed serpent, hissing in men's ears

Word of their loves: and one of all his peers

That most he trusted, being his kinsman born,

A man base-moulded for the stamp of scorn,

Whose heart with hate was keen and cold and dark,

Gave note by midnight whisper to King Mark

Where he might take them sleeping; how ere day

Had seen the grim next morning all away

Fast bound they brought him down a weary way

With forty knights about him, and their chief

That traitor who for trust had given him grief,

To the old hoar chapel, like a strait stone tomb

Sheer on the sea-rocks, there to take his doom:

How, seeing he needs must die, he bade them yet

Bethink them if they durst for shame forget

What deeds for Cornwall had he done, and wrought

For all their sake what rescue, when he fought

Against the fierce foul Irish foe that came

To take of them for tribute in their shame

Three hundred heads of children; whom in fight

His hand redeeming slew Moraunt the knight

That none durst lift his eyes against, not one

Had heart but he, who now had help of none,

To take the battle; whence great shame it were

To knighthood, yea, foul shame on all men there,

To see him die so shamefully: nor durst

One man look up, nor one make answer first,

Save even the very traitor, who defied

And would have slain him naked in his pride,

But he, that saw the sword plucked forth to slay,

Looked on his hands, and wrenched their bonds away,

Haling those twain that he went bound between

Suddenly to him, and kindling in his mien

Shone lion-fashion forth with eyes alight,

And lion-wise leapt on that kinsman knight

And wrung forth of his felon hands with might

The sword that should have slain him weaponless,

And smote him sheer down: then came all the press

All raging in upon him; but he wrought

So well for his deliverance as they fought

That ten strong knights rejoicingly he slew,

And took no wound, nor wearied: then the crew

Waxed greater, and their cry on him; but he

Had won the chapel now above the sea

That chafed right under: then the heart in him

Sprang, seeing the low cliff clear to leap, and swim

Right out by the old blithe way the sea-mew takes

Across the bounding billow-belt that breaks

For ever, but the loud bright chain it makes

To bind the bridal bosom of the land

Time shall unlink not ever, till his hand

Fall by its own last blow dead: thence again

Might he win forth into the green great main

Far on beyond, and there yield up his breath

At least, with God's will, by no shameful death,

Or haply save himself, and come anew

Some long day later, ere sweet life were through.

And as the sea-gull hovers high, and turns

With eyes wherein the keen heart glittering yearns

Down toward the sweet green sea whereon the broad noon burns,

And suddenly, soul-stricken with delight,

Drops, and the glad wave gladdens, and the light

Sees wing and wave confuse their fluttering white,

So Tristram one brief breathing-space apart

Hung, and gazed down; then with exulting heart

Plunged: and the fleet foam round a joyous head

Flashed, that shot under, and ere a shaft had sped

Rose again radiant, a rejoicing star,

And high along the water-ways afar

Triumphed: and all they deemed he needs must die;

But Gouvernayle his squire, that watched hard by,

Sought where perchance a man might win ashore,

Striving, with strong limbs labouring long and sore,

And there abode an hour: till as from fight

Crowned with hard conquest won by mastering might,

Hardly, but happier for the imperious toil,

Swam the knight in forth of the close waves' coil,

Sea-satiate, bruised with buffets of the brine,

Laughing, and flushed as one afire with wine:

All this came hard upon him in a breath;

And how he marvelled in his heart that death

Should be no bitterer than it seemed to be

There, in the strenuous impulse of the sea

Borne as to battle deathward: and at last

How all his after seasons overpast

Had brought him darkling to this dark sweet hour,

Where his foot faltered nigh the bridal bower.

And harder seemed the passage now to pass,

Though smoother-seeming than the still sea's glass,

More fit for very manhood's heart to fear,

Than all straits past of peril. Hardly here

Might aught of all things hearten him save one,

Faith: and as men's eyes quail before the sun

So quailed his heart before the star whose light

Put out the torches of his bridal night,

So quailed and shrank with sense of faith's keen star

That burned as fire beheld by night afar

Deep in the darkness of his dreams; for all

The bride-house now seemed hung with heavier pall

Than clothes the house of mourning. Yet at last,

Soul-sick with trembling at the heart, he passed

Into the sweet light of the maiden bower

Where lay the lonely lily-featured flower

That, lying within his hand to gather, yet

Might not be gathered of it. Fierce regret

And bitter loyalty strove hard at strife

With amorous pity toward the tender wife

That wife indeed might never be, to wear

The very crown of wedlock; never bear

Children, to watch and worship her white hair

When time should change, with hand more soft than snow,

The fashion of its glory; never know

The loveliness of laughing love that lives

On little lips of children: all that gives

Glory and grace and reverence and delight

To wedded woman by her bridal right,

All praise and pride that flowers too fair to fall,

Love that should give had stripped her of them all

And left her bare for ever. So his thought

Consumed him, as a fire within that wrought

Visibly, ravening till its wrath were spent:

So pale he stood, so bowed and passion-rent,

Before the blithe-faced bride-folk, ere he went

Within the chamber, heavy-eyed: and there

Gleamed the white hands and glowed the glimmering hair

That might but move his memory more of one more fair,

More fair than all this beauty: but in sooth

So fair she too shone in her flower of youth

That scarcely might man's heart hold fast its truth,

Though strong, who gazed upon her: for her eyes

Were emerald-soft as evening-coloured skies,

And a smile in them like the light therein

Slept, or shone out in joy that knew not sin,

Clear as a child's own laughter: and her mouth,

Albeit no rose full-hearted from the south

And passion-coloured for the perfect kiss

That signs the soul for love and stamps it his,

Was soft and bright as any bud new-blown;

And through her cheek the gentler lifebloom shone

Of mild wild roses nigh the northward sea.

So in her bride-bed lay the bride: and he

Drew nigh, and all the high sad heart in him

Yearned on her, seeing the twilight meek and dim

Through all the soft alcove tremblingly lit

With hovering silver, as a heart in it

Beating, that burned from one deep lamp above,

Fainter than fire of torches, as the love

Within him fainter than a bridegroom's fire,

No marriage-torch red with the heart's desire,

But silver-soft, a flameless light that glowed

Starlike along night's dark and starry road

Wherein his soul was traveller. And he sighed,

Seeing, and with eyes set sadly toward his bride

Laid him down by her, and spake not: but within

His heart spake, saying how sore should be the sin

To break toward her, that of all womankind

Was faithfullest, faith plighted, or unbind

The bond first linked between them when they drank

The love-draught: and his quick blood sprang and sank,

Remembering in the pulse of all his veins

That red swift rapture, all its fiery pains

And all its fierier pleasures: and he spake

Aloud, one burning word for love's keen sake'

'Iseult;' and full of love and lovelier fear

A virgin voice gave answer''I am here.'

And a pang rent his heart at root: but still,

For spirit and flesh were vassals to his will,

Strong faith held mastery on them: and the breath

Felt on his face did not his will to death,

Nor glance nor lute-like voice nor flower-soft touch

Might so prevail upon it overmuch

That constancy might less prevail than they,

For all he looked and loved her as she lay

Smiling; and soft as bird alights on bough

He kissed her maiden mouth and blameless brow,

Once, and again his heart within him sighed:

But all his young blood's yearning toward his bride,

How hard soe'er it held his life awake

For passion, and sweet nature's unforbidden sake,

And will that strove unwillingly with will it might not break,

Fell silent as a wind abashed, whose breath

Dies out of heaven, suddenly done to death,

When in between them on the dumb dusk air

Floated the bright shade of a face more fair

Than hers that hard beside him shrank and smiled

And wist of all no more than might a child.

So had she all her heart's will, all she would,

For love's sake that sufficed her, glad and good,

All night safe sleeping in her maidenhood.