Young Adventure | Page 6

To lap a
girl's limbs up like wine, And laugh, knowing the end!"
Only, like low, still breathing, I heard one voice, one word; And hot
speech poured upon my lips, As my hands held a sword.
"Fools, thrice fools of lust!" I cried, "Your eyes are blind to see Eternal
beauty, moving far, More glorious than horns of war! But though my
eyes were one blind scar, That sight is shown to me!
"You nuzzle at the ivory side, You clasp the golden head; Fools, fools,
who chatter and sing, You have taken the sign of a terrible thing, You
have drunk down God with your beeswing, And broken the saints for
bread!
"For God moves darkly, In silence and in storm; But in the body of
woman He shows one burning form.
"For God moves blindly, In darkness and in dread; But in the body of
woman He raises up the dead.
"Gracile and straight as birches, Swift as the questing birds, They fill
true-lovers' drink-horns up, Who speak not, having no words.

"Love is not delicate toying, A slim and shimmering mesh; It is two
souls wrenched into one, Two bodies made one flesh.
"Lust is a sprightly servant, Gallant where wines are poured; Love is a
bitter master, Love is an iron lord.
"Satin ease of the body, Fattened sloth of the hands, These and their
like he will not send, Only immortal fires to rend -- And the world's
end is your journey's end, And your stream chokes in the sands.
"Pleached calms shall not await you, Peace you shall never find;
Nought but the living moorland Scourged naked by the wind.
"Nought but the living moorland, And your love's hand in yours; The
strength more sure than surety, The mercy that endures.
"Then, though they give you to be burned, And slay you like a stoat,
You have found the world's heart in the turn of a cheek, Heaven in the
lift of a throat.
"Although they break you on the wheel, That stood so straight in the
sun, Behind you the trumpets split the sky, Where the lost and furious
fight goes by -- And God, our God, will have victory When the red day
is done!"
Their mirth rolled to the rafters, They bellowed lechery; Light as a
drifting feather My love slipped from my knee.
Within, the lights were yellow In drowsy rooms and warm; Without,
the stabbing lightning Shattered across the storm.
Within, the great logs crackled, The drink-horns emptied soon; Without,
the black cloaks of the clouds Strangled the waning moon.
My love crossed o'er the threshold -- God! but the night was murk! I set
myself against the cold, And left them to their work.
Their shouts rolled to the rafters; A bitterer way was mine, And I left
them in the tavern, Drinking the yellow wine!
The last faint echoes rang along the plains, Died, and were gone. The
genie spoke: "Thy song Serves well enough -- but yet thy task remains;
Many and rending pains Shall torture him who dares delay too long!"
His brown face hardened to a leaden mask. A bitter brine crusted the
fisher's cheek -- "Almighty God, one thing alone I ask, Show me a task,
a task!" The hard cup of the sky shone, gemmed and bleak.
"O love, whom I have sought by devious ways; O hidden beauty, naked
as a star; You whose bright hair has burned across my days, Making
them lamps of praise; O dawn-wind, breathing of Arabia!

"You have I served. Now fire has parched the vine, And Death is on the
singers and the song. No longer are there lips to cling to mine, And the
heart wearies of wine, And I am sick, for my desire is long.
"O love, soft-moving, delicate and tender! In her gold house the pipe
calls querulously, They cloud with thin green silks her body slender,
They talk to her and tend her; Come, piteous, gentle love, and set me
free!"
He ceased -- and, slowly rising o'er the deep, A faint song chimed,
grew clearer, till at last A golden horn of light began to creep Where
the dumb ripples sweep, Making the sea one splendor where it passed.
A golden boat! The bright oars rested soon, And the prow met the sand.
The purple veils Misting the cabin fell. Fair as the moon When the
morning comes too soon, And all the air is silver in the dales,
A gold-robed princess stepped upon the beach. The fisher knelt and
kissed her garment's hem, And then her lips, and strove at last for
speech. The waters lapped the reach. "Here thy strength breaks, thy
might is nought to stem!"
He cried at last. Speech shook him like a flame: "Yea,