And, in my company, my brother Gloucester,
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches. Thence we looked toward England, And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster,
That had befallen us. As we paced along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard
Into the tumbling billows of the main.
Lord, Lord, methought what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of waters in my ears!
What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels.
Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes,
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by.
Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death
To gaze upon the secrets of the deep?
Clar. Methought I had; and often did I strive
To yield the ghost; but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vast, and wandering air;
But smothered it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to.belch it in the sea.
Brak. Awaked you not with this sore agony?
Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthened after life.
O then began the tempest to my soul.
I passed, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick,*
Who cried aloud, 'What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?'
And so he vanished. Then came wandering by
A shadow+ like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood, and he shrieked out aloud,
'Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,
That stabbed me in the field by Tewkesbury;
Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments !'
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environed me, and howléd in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
I, trembling, waked; and for a season after
Could not believe but that I was in hell,
Such terrible impression made my dream.
Brak. No marvel, Lord, that it affrighted you;
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.
Clar. Ah Brakenbury, I have done those things That now give evidence against my soul,
For Edward's sake; and, see, how he requites me ! O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath on me alone :
O, spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children!
I pray thee, Brakenbury, stay by me ;
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.
HEY glide upon their endless way,
For ever calm, for ever bright;
No blind hurry, no delay,
Mark the Daughters of the Night:
They follow in the track of Day,
In divine delight.
↑ Prince Edward, the son of Henry VI.
Shine on, sweet orbed Souls for aye,
For ever calm, for ever bright:
We ask not whither lies your way,
Nor whence ye came, nor what your light.
Be still a dream throughout the day,
A blessing through the night.
LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCY.
H, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a Lady in the meads,
Full beautiful, a fairy's child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long ; For sideways would she lean and sing A fairy song.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew;
And sure in language strange she said,
I love thee true.
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she gazed and sighéd deep,
And there I shut her wild sad eyes,
So kissed to sleep.
And there we slumbered on the moss,
And there I dreamed, ah, woe betide,
The latest dream I ever dreamed
On the cold hill-side.
I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cried 'La belle Dame sans mercy
Hath thee in thrall!'
I saw their starved lips in the gloom
With horrid warning gapéd wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill-side.
And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
'A Battle, my child,
Where the strongest lance may fail,
Where the wariest eyes may be beguiled,
And the stoutest heart may quail.
Where the foes are gathered on every hand
And rest not day or night,
And the feeble little ones must stand
In the thickest of the fight.'
'What is Death, Father!'
'The rest, my child,
When the strife and the toil are o'er;
The Angel of God, who, calm and mild,
Says we need fight no more;
Who, driving away the demon band,
Bids the din of the battle cease;
Takes banner and spear from our failing hand, And proclaims an eternal Peace.
'Let me die, Father! I tremble, and fear To yield in that terrible strife!'
'The crown must be won for Heaven, dear, In the battle field of life:
My child, though thy foes are strong and tried, He loveth the weak and small;
The Angels of Heaven are on thy side,
And God is over all.'
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