There was a Tenson once--Lord, Lord, how
long ago! I learn too late that truth may possibly have been upon the
losing side--" Thus talking incoherencies, he took up Rigon's lute.
Sang Sire Edward:
"Incuriously he smites the armored king
And tricks his counsellors--
"yes, the jingle ran thus. Now listen, madame--listen, the while that I
have my singing out, whatever any little cut-throats may be planning in
corners."
Sang Sire Edward:
"As, later on,
Death will, half-idly, still our pleasuring,
And change for fevered laughter in the sun
Sleep such as Merlin's,--and excess thereof,--
Whence we, divorceless Death our Viviaine
Implacable, may never more regain
The unforgotten rapture, and the pain
And grief and ecstasy of life and love.
"For, presently, as quiet as the king
Sleeps now that planned the keeps of Ilion,
We, too, will sleep, whilst overhead the spring
Rules, and young lovers laugh--as we have done,--
And kiss--as we, that take no heed thereof,
But slumber very soundly, and disdain
The world-wide heralding of winter's wane
And swift sweet ripple of the April rain
Running about the world to waken love.
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