第39章 Merlin and Vivien(4)

And while we waited,one,the youngest of us,We could not keep him silent,out he flashed,And into such a song,such fire for fame,Such trumpet-glowings in it,coming down To such a stern and iron-clashing close,That when he stopt we longed to hurl together,And should have done it;but the beauteous beast Scared by the noise upstarted at our feet,And like a silver shadow slipt away Through the dim land;and all day long we rode Through the dim land against a rushing wind,That glorious roundel echoing in our ears,And chased the flashes of his golden horns Till they vanished by the fairy well That laughs at iron--as our warriors did--Where children cast their pins and nails,and cry,"Laugh,little well!"but touch it with a sword,It buzzes fiercely round the point;and there We lost him:such a noble song was that.

But,Vivien,when you sang me that sweet rhyme,I felt as though you knew this cursed charm,Were proving it on me,and that I lay And felt them slowly ebbing,name and fame.'

And Vivien answered smiling mournfully:

'O mine have ebbed away for evermore,And all through following you to this wild wood,Because I saw you sad,to comfort you.

Lo now,what hearts have men!they never mount As high as woman in her selfless mood.

And touching fame,howe'er ye scorn my song,Take one verse more--the lady speaks it--this:

'"My name,once mine,now thine,is closelier mine,For fame,could fame be mine,that fame were thine,And shame,could shame be thine,that shame were mine.

So trust me not at all or all in all."

'Says she not well?and there is more--this rhyme Is like the fair pearl-necklace of the Queen,That burst in dancing,and the pearls were spilt;Some lost,some stolen,some as relics kept.

But nevermore the same two sister pearls Ran down the silken thread to kiss each other On her white neck--so is it with this rhyme:

It lives dispersedly in many hands,And every minstrel sings it differently;Yet is there one true line,the pearl of pearls:

"Man dreams of Fame while woman wakes to love."Yea!Love,though Love were of the grossest,carves A portion from the solid present,eats And uses,careless of the rest;but Fame,The Fame that follows death is nothing to us;And what is Fame in life but half-disfame,And counterchanged with darkness?ye yourself Know well that Envy calls you Devil's son,And since ye seem the Master of all Art,They fain would make you Master of all vice.'

And Merlin locked his hand in hers and said,'I once was looking for a magic weed,And found a fair young squire who sat alone,Had carved himself a knightly shield of wood,And then was painting on it fancied arms,Azure,an Eagle rising or,the Sun In dexter chief;the scroll "I follow fame."And speaking not,but leaning over him I took his brush and blotted out the bird,And made a Gardener putting in a graff,With this for motto,"Rather use than fame."You should have seen him blush;but afterwards He made a stalwart knight.O Vivien,For you,methinks you think you love me well;For me,I love you somewhat;rest:and Love Should have some rest and pleasure in himself,Not ever be too curious for a boon,Too prurient for a proof against the grain Of him ye say ye love:but Fame with men,Being but ampler means to serve mankind,Should have small rest or pleasure in herself,But work as vassal to the larger love,That dwarfs the petty love of one to one.

Use gave me Fame at first,and Fame again Increasing gave me use.Lo,there my boon!

What other?for men sought to prove me vile,Because I fain had given them greater wits:

And then did Envy call me Devil's son:

The sick weak beast seeking to help herself By striking at her better,missed,and brought Her own claw back,and wounded her own heart.

Sweet were the days when I was all unknown,But when my name was lifted up,the storm Brake on the mountain and I cared not for it.

Right well know I that Fame is half-disfame,Yet needs must work my work.That other fame,To one at least,who hath not children,vague,The cackle of the unborn about the grave,I cared not for it:a single misty star,Which is the second in a line of stars That seem a sword beneath a belt of three,I never gazed upon it but I dreamt Of some vast charm concluded in that star To make fame nothing.Wherefore,if I fear,Giving you power upon me through this charm,That you might play me falsely,having power,However well ye think ye love me now (As sons of kings loving in pupilage Have turned to tyrants when they came to power)I rather dread the loss of use than fame;

If you--and not so much from wickedness,As some wild turn of anger,or a mood Of overstrained affection,it may be,To keep me all to your own self,--or else A sudden spurt of woman's jealousy,--Should try this charm on whom ye say ye love.'

And Vivien answered smiling as in wrath:

'Have I not sworn?I am not trusted.Good!

Well,hide it,hide it;I shall find it out;

And being found take heed of Vivien.

A woman and not trusted,doubtless I

Might feel some sudden turn of anger born Of your misfaith;and your fine epithet Is accurate too,for this full love of mine Without the full heart back may merit well Your term of overstrained.So used as I,My daily wonder is,I love at all.

And as to woman's jealousy,O why not?

O to what end,except a jealous one,And one to make me jealous if I love,Was this fair charm invented by yourself?

I well believe that all about this world Ye cage a buxom captive here and there,Closed in the four walls of a hollow tower From which is no escape for evermore.'

Then the great Master merrily answered her:

'Full many a love in loving youth was mine;

I needed then no charm to keep them mine But youth and love;and that full heart of yours Whereof ye prattle,may now assure you mine;So live uncharmed.For those who wrought it first,The wrist is parted from the hand that waved,The feet unmortised from their ankle-bones Who paced it,ages back:but will ye hear The legend as in guerdon for your rhyme?

'There lived a king in the most Eastern East,Less old than I,yet older,for my blood Hath earnest in it of far springs to be.