There never shall be lacking war and strife, That thou a long-enduring name mayst win, And by thy deeds, good pardon for thy sin." With that another, who, unseen, meanwhile Had drawn anigh, said with a joyous smile, "And this forgotten gift to thee I give, That while amidst the turmoil thou dost live, Still shalt thou win the game, and unto thee Defeat and shame but idle words shall be." Then back they turned, and therewithal, the fourth Said, "Take this gift for what it may be worth For that is mine to give; lo, thou shalt be Gentle of speech, and in all courtesy The first of men: a little gift this is, After these promises of fame and bliss." Then toward the babe the fifth fair woman went; Grey-eyed she was, and simple, with eyes bent Down on the floor, parted her red lips were, And o'er her sweet face marvellously fair Oft would the colour spread full suddenly; Clad in a dainty gown and thin was she, For some green summer of the fay-land dight, Tripping she went, and laid her fingers light Upon the child, and said, "O little one, As long as thou shalt look upon the sun Shall women long for thee; take heed to this And give them what thou canst of love and bliss." Then, blushing for her words, therefrom she past, And by the cradle stood the sixth and last, The fairest of them all; awhile she gazed Down on the child, and then her hand she raised, And made the one side of her bosom bare; "Ogier," she said, "if this be foul or fair Thou know'st not now, but when thine earthly life Is drunk out to the dregs, and war and strife Have yielded thee whatever joy they may, Thine head upon this bosom shalt thou lay; And then, despite of knowledge or of God, Will we be glad upon the flowery sod Within the happy country where I dwell: Ogier, my love that is to be, farewell!" She turned, and even as they came they passed From out the place, and reached the gate at last That oped before their feet, and speedily They gained the edges of the murmuring sea, And as they stood in silence, gazing there Out to the west, they vanished into air, I know not how, nor whereto they returned. But mixed with twilight in the chamber burned The flickering candles, and those dreary folk, Unlike to sleepers, from their trance awoke, But nought of what had happed meanwhile they knew. Through the half-opened casements now there blew A sweet fresh air, that of the flowers and sea Mingled together, smelt deliciously, And from the unseen sun the spreading light Began to make the fair June blossoms bright, And midst their weary woe uprose the sun, And thus has Ogier's noble life begun. * * * * *