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(From Idyls of the King)
QUEEN GUINEVERE had fled the court, and sat | |
| There in the holy house at Almesbury | |
| Weeping, none with her save a little maid, | |
| A novice: one low light betwixt them burned | |
| Blurred by the creeping mist, for all abroad, | 5 |
| Beneath a moon unseen albeit at full, | |
| The white mist like a face-cloth to the face | |
| Clung to the dead earth, and the land was still. * * * * * | |
| “You know me, then, that wicked one, who broke | |
| The vast design and purpose of the King. | 10 |
| O shut me round with narrowing nunnery-walls, | |
| Meek maidens, from the voices crying ‘Shame.’ | |
| I must not scorn myself: he loves me still. | |
| Let no one dream but that he loves me still. | |
| So let me, if you do not shudder at me | 15 |
| Nor shun to call me sister, dwell with you, | |
| Wear black and white, and be a nun like you, | |
| Fast with your fasts, not feasting with your feasts, | |
| Grieve with your griefs, not grieving at your joys, | |
| But not rejoicing; mingle with your rites; | 20 |
| Pray and be prayed for, lie before your shrines, | |
| Do each low office of your holy house, | |
| Walk your dim cloister, and distribute dole | |
| To poor sick people, richer in His eyes | |
| Who ransomed us, and haler too than I, | 25 |
| And treat their loathsome hurts and heal mine own, | |
| And so wear out in almsdeed and in prayer | |
| The sombre close of that voluptuous day, | |
| Which wrought the ruin of my lord the King.” | |
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| She said: they took her to themselves; and she | 30 |
| Still hoping, fearing, “Is it yet too late?” | |
| Dwelt with them, till in time their Abbess died, | |
| Then she, for her good deeds and her pure life, | |
| And for the power of ministration in her, | |
| And likewise for the high rank she had borne, | 35 |
| Was chosen Abbess, there, an Abbess, lived | |
| For three brief years, and there, an Abbess, past | |
| To where beyond these voices there is peace. | |
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