Lagging he moved, and apt to swerve; Lazy of limb, but quick of nerve. At length the water-bed took a curve, The deep river swept its bankside bare; Waters streamed from the hill-reserve-- Waters here, waters there. High above, and deep below, Bursting, bubbling, swelling the flow, Like hill torrents after the snow,-- Bubbling, gurgling, in whirling strife, 310 Swaying, sweeping, to and fro,-- He must swim for his life. Which way?--which way?--his eyes grew dim With the dizzying whirl--which way to swim? The thunderous downshoot deafened him; Half he choked in the lashing spray: Life is sweet, and the grave is grim-- Which way?--which way? A flash of light, a shout from the strand: 'This way--this way; here lies the land!' 320 His phial clutched in one drowning hand; He catches--misses--catches a rope; His feet slip on the slipping sand: Is there life?--is there hope? Just saved, without pulse or breath,-- Scarcely saved from the gulp of death; Laid where a willow shadoweth-- Laid where a swelling turf is smooth. (O Bride! but the Bridegroom lingereth For all thy sweet youth.) 330 Kind hands do and undo, Kind voices whisper and coo: 'I will chafe his hands'--'And I'--'And you Raise his head, put his hair aside.' (If many laugh, one well may rue: Sleep on, thou Bride.) So the Prince was tended with care: One wrung foul ooze from his clustered hair; Two chafed his hands, and did not spare; But one held his drooping head breast-high, 340 Till his eyes oped, and at unaware They met eye to eye. Oh, a moon face in a shadowy place, And a light touch and a winsome grace, And a thrilling tender voice that says: 'Safe from waters that seek the sea-- Cold waters by rugged ways-- Safe with me.' While overhead bird whistles to bird, And round about plays a gamesome herd: 350 'Safe with us'--some take up the word-- 'Safe with us, dear lord and friend: All the sweeter if long deferred Is rest in the end.' Had he stayed to weigh and to scan, He had been more or less than a man: He did what a young man can, Spoke of toil and an arduous way-- Toil to-morrow, while golden ran The sands of to-day. 360 Slip past, slip fast, Uncounted hours from first to last, Many hours till the last is past, Many hours dwindling to one-- One hour whose die is cast, One last hour gone. Come, gone--gone for ever-- Gone as an unreturning river-- Gone as to death the merriest liver-- Gone as the year at the dying fall-- 370 To-morrow, to-day, yesterday, never-- Gone once for all. Came at length the starting-day, With last words, and last words to say, With bodiless cries from far away-- Chiding wailing voices that rang Like a trumpet-call to the tug and fray; And thus they sang: