But if the Queen's heart were the more a-flame For all that she had heard of his great fame, I know not; rather with some hidden dread Of coming fate, she heard her lord was dead, And her false dream seemed coming true at last, For the clear sky of love seemed overcast With clouds of God's great judgments, and the fear Of hate and final parting drawing near. So now when he before her throne did stand Amidst the throng as saviour of the land, And she her eyes to his kind eyes did raise, And there before all her own love must praise; Then did she fall a-weeping, and folk said, "See, how she sorrows for the newly dead! Amidst our joy she needs must think of him; Let be, full surely shall her grief wax dim And she shall wed again." So passed the year, While Ogier set himself the land to clear Of broken remnants of the heathen men, And at the last, when May-time came again, Must he be crowned King of the twice-saved land, And at the altar take the fair Queen's hand And wed her for his own. And now by this Had he forgotten clean the woe and bliss Of his old life, and still was he made glad As other men; and hopes and fears he had As others, and bethought him not at all Of what strange days upon him yet should fall When he should live and these again be dead. Now drew the time round when he should be wed, And in his palace on his bed he lay Upon the dawning of the very day: 'Twixt sleep and waking was he, and could hear E'en at that hour, through the bright morn and clear, The hammering of the folk who toiled to make Some well-wrought stages for the pageant's sake, Though hardly yet the sparrows had begun To twitter o'er the coming of the sun, Nor through the palace did a creature move. There in the sweet entanglement of love Midst languid thoughts of greater bliss he lay, Remembering no more of that other day Than the hot noon remembereth of the night, Than summer thinketh of the winter white. In that sweet hour he heard a voice that cried, "Ogier, Ogier!" then, opening his eyes wide, And rising on his elbow, gazed around, And strange to him and empty was the sound Of his own name; "Whom callest thou?" he said. "For I, the man who lies upon this bed, Am Charles of France, and shall be King to-day, But in a year that now is past away The Ancient Knight they called me: who is this, Thou callest Ogier, then, what deeds are his? And who art thou?" But at that word a sigh, As of one grieved, came from some place anigh His bed-side, and a soft voice spake again, "This Ogier once was great amongst great men; To Italy a helpless hostage led; He saved the King when the false Lombard fled, Bore forth the Oriflamme and gained the day; Charlot he brought back, whom men led away, And fought a day-long fight with Caraheu. The ravager of Rome his right hand slew;