Helen Redeemed and Other Poems | Page 8

Upon him fell aslant?That lovely light, while in her cheeks the hue?Of throbbing dawn came sudden. So he knew?Her best before she spoke; for when she spoke?It was as if the nightingale should croak?In April midst the first young leaves, so bleak,?So harsh she schooled her throat, that it should speak?Dry matter and hard logic--as if she?Were careful lest self-pity urged a plea?Which was not hers to make; or as one faint?And desperate lays down all his argument?Like bricks upon a field, let who will make?A house of them; so drily Helen spake?With a flat voice. "Thou hadst been nine days gone,?Came my lord Alexandros, Priam's son,?And hailed me in the hall whereas I sat,?And claimed his guest-right, which not wondering at?I gave as fitting was. Then came the day?I was beguiled. What more is there to say?"?Fixt on her fingers playing on the wall?Her eyes were. But the King said: "Tell me all.?Thou wert beguiled: by his desire beguiled,?Or by thine own?" She shook her head and smiled?Most sadly, pitying herself. "Who knoweth?The ways of Love, whence cometh, whither goeth?The heart's low whimper? This I know, he loved?Me then, and pleasured only where I moved?About the house. And I had pleasure too?To know of me he had it. Then we knew?The day at hand when he must take the road?And leave me; and its eve we close abode?Within the house, and spake not. But I wept."?She stayed, and whispering down her next word crept:?"I was beguiled, beguiled." And then her lip?She bit, and rueful showed her partnership?In sinful dealing.
But he, in his esteem?Bleeding and raw, urged on. "To Kranai's deme?He took thee then?"
Speechless she bent her head?Towards her tender breasts whereon, soft shed?As upon low quiet hills, the dawn light played,?And limned their gentle curves or sank in shade.?So gazing, stood she silent, but the King?Urged on. "From thence to Ilios, thou willing,?He took thee?"
Then, "I was beguiled," again?She said; and he, who felt a worthier strain?Stir in his gall compassion, and uplift?Him out of knowledge, saw a blessed rift?Upon his dark horizon, as tow'rds night?The low clouds break and shafted shows the light.?"Ten years beguiled!" he said, "but now it seems?Thou art----" She shook her head. "Nay, now come dreams; Nay, now I think, remember, now I see."?"What callest thou to mind?" "Hermione,"?She said, "our child, and Sparta my own land,?And all the honour that lay to my hand?Had I but chosen it, as now I would"--?And sudden hid her face up in her hood,?Her courage ebbed in grief, all hardness drowned?In bitter weeping.
Noble pity crowned?The greater man in him; so for a space?They wept together, she for loss; for grace?Of gain wept he. "No more," he said, "my sweet,?Tell me no more."
"Ah, hear the whole of it?Before my hour is gone," she cried. But he?Groaning, "I dare not stay here lest I see?Him take thee again."
Both hands to fold her breast,?She shook her head; like as the sun through mist?Shone triumph in her eyes. "Have no more fear?Of him or any----" Then, hearing a stir?Within the house, her finger toucht her lip,?And one fixt look she gave of fellowship?Assured--then turned and quickly went her way;?And his light vanisht with her for that day.
FOURTH STAVE
THE APOLOGY OF HELEN
O singing heart, O twice-undaunted lover!?O ever to be blest, twice blest moreover!?Twice over win the world in one girl's eyes,?Twice over lift her name up to the skies;?Twice to hope all things, so to be twice born--?For he lives not who cannot front the morn?Saying, "This day I live as never yet?Lived striving man on earth!" What if the fret?Of loss and ten years' agonizing snow?Thy hairs or leave their tracery on thy brow,?Each line beslotted by the demon hounds?Hunting thee down o' nights? Laugh at thy wounds,?Laugh at thy eld, strong lover, whose blood flows?Clear from the fountain, singing as it goes,?"She loves, and so I live and shall not die!?Love on, love her: 'tis immortality."?Once more before the sun he greeted her:?She glowed her joy; her mood was calm and clear?As mellow evening's whenas, like a priest,?Rain has absolved the world, and golden mist?Hangs over all like benediction.?In her proud eyes sat triumph on a throne,?To know herself beloved, her lover by,?So near the consummation. Womanly?She dallied with the moment when, all wife,?Upon his breast she'd lie and cast her life,?Cast body, soul and spirit in one gest?Supreme of giving. Glorying in his quest?Of her, now let her hide what he must glean,?But not know yet. Ah, sweet to feel his keen?Long eye-search, like the touch of eager fingers,?And sweet to thrill beneath such hot blush-bringers;?To fence with such a swordsman hazardous?And sweet. "Belov'd, thou art glad of me!" Then thus?Antiphonal to him she breathes, "Thou sayest!"?"I see thy light and hail it!"
"Thou begayest?My poor light."
"Knowest thou not