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 propped his head that drooped awry Till his eyes oped, and at unaware They met eye to eye. O, a moon face in a shadowy place, And a light touch and a winsome grace, And a thrilling tender voice which 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: "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. 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 forever,-- Gone as an unreturning river,-- Gone as to death the merriest liver,-- Gone as the year at the dying fall,-- To-morrow, to-day, yesterday, never,-- Gone once for all. Came at length the starting-day, With last words, and last, 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: "Is there life?--the lamp burns low; Is there hope?--the coming is slow: The promise promised so long ago, The long promise, has not been kept. Does she live?--does she die?--she slumbers so Who so oft has wept. "Does she live?--does she die?--she languisheth As a lily drooping to death, As a drought-worn bird with failing breath, As a lovely vine without a stay, As a tree whereof the owner saith, 'Hew it down to-day.'" Stung by that word the Prince was fain To start on his tedious road again. He crossed the stream where a ford was plain, He clomb the opposite bank though steep, And swore to himself to strain and attain Ere he tasted sleep. Huge before him a mountain frowned With foot of rock on the valley ground, And head with snows incessant crowned, And a cloud mantle about its strength, And a path which the wild goat hath not found In its breadth and length.