| |
| THE SUN had wheeled from Grey’s to Dammer’s Crest, | |
| And still I mused on that Thing imminent: | |
| At length I sought the High-street to the West. | |
| |
| The level flare raked pane and pediment | |
| And my wrecked face, and shaped my nearing friend | 5 |
| Like one of those the Furnace held unshent. | |
| |
| “I’ve news concerning her,” he said. “Attend. | |
| They fly to-night at the late moon’s first gleam: | |
| Watch with thy steel: two righteous thrusts will end | |
| |
| “Her shameless visions and his passioned dream. | 10 |
| I’ll watch with thee, to testify thy wrong— | |
| To aid, maybe—Law consecrates the scheme.” | |
| |
| I started, and we paced the flags along | |
| Till I replied: “Since it has come to this | |
| I’ll do it! But alone. I can be strong.” | 15 |
| |
| Three hours past Curfew, when the Froom’s mild hiss | |
| Reigned sole, undulled by whirr of merchandise, | |
| From Pummery-Tout to where the Gibbet is, | |
| |
| I crossed my pleasaunce hard by Glyd’path Rise, | |
| And stood beneath the wall. Eleven strokes went, | 20 |
| And to the door they came, contrariwise, | |
| |
| And met in clasp so close I had but bent | |
| My lifted blade upon them to have let | |
| Their two souls loose upon the firmament. | |
| |
| But something held my arm. “A moment yet | 25 |
| As pray-time ere you wantons die!” I said; | |
| And then they saw me. Swift her gaze was set | |
| |
| With eye and cry of love illimited | |
| Upon her Heart-king. Never upon me | |
| Had she thrown look of love so thorough-sped!… | 30 |
| |
| At once she flung her faint form shieldingly | |
| On his, against the vengeance of my vows; | |
| The which o’erruling, her shape shielded he. | |
| |
| Blanked by such love, I stood as in a drowse, | |
| And the slow moon edged from the upland nigh, | 35 |
| My sad thoughts moving thuswise: “I may house | |
| |
| “And I may husband her, yet what am I | |
| But licensed tyrant to this bonded pair? | |
| Says Charity, Do as ye would be done by.”… | |
| |
| Hurling my iron to the bushes there, | 40 |
| I bade them stay. And, as if brain and breast | |
| Were passive, they walked with me to the stair. | |
| |
| Inside the house none watched; and on we prest | |
| Before a mirror, in whose gleam I read | |
| Her beauty, his,—and mine own mien unblest; | 45 |
| |
| Till at her room I turned. “Madam,” I said, | |
| “Have you the wherewithal for this? Pray speak. | |
| Love fills no cupboard. You’ll need daily bread.” | |
| |
| “We’ve nothing, sire,” said she, “and nothing seek. | |
| ’Twere base in me to rob my lord unware; | 50 |
| Our hands will earn a pittance week by week.” | |
| |
| And next I saw she’d piled her raiment rare | |
| Within the garde-robes, and her household purse, | |
| Her jewels, and least lace of personal wear; | |
| |
| And stood in homespun. Now grown wholly hers, | 55 |
| I handed her the gold, her jewells all, | |
| And him the choicest of her robes diverse. | |
| |
| “I’ll take you to the doorway in the wall, | |
| And then adieu,” I to them. “Friends, withdraw.” | |
| They did so; and she went—beyond recall. | 60 |
| |
| And as I paused beneath the arch I saw | |
| Their moonlit figures—slow, as in surprise— | |
| Descend the slope, and vanish on the haw. | |
| |
| “‘Fool,’ some will say,” I thought. “But who is wise, | |
| Save God alone, to weigh my reasons why?” | 65 |
| —“Hast thou struck home?” came with the boughs’ night-sighs. | |
| |
| It was my friend. “I have struck well. They fly, | |
| But carry wounds that none can cicatrize.” | |
| —“Not mortal?” said he. “Lingering—worse,” said I. | |
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