Yea, I was king once; the songs sung o'er my cradle, Were ballads of battle and deeds of my fathers: Yea, I was King Pharamond; in no carpeted court-room Bore they the corpse of my father before me; But on grass trodden grey by the hoofs of the war-steeds Did I kneel to his white lips and sword-cloven bosom, As from clutch of dead fingers his notched sword I caught; For a furlong before us the spear-wood was glistening. I was king of this city when here where we stand now Amidst a grim silence I mustered all men folk Who might yet bear a weapon; and no brawl of kings was it That brought war on the city, and silenced the markets And cumbered the haven with crowd of masts sailless, But great countries arisen for our ruin and downfall. I was king of the land, when on all roads were riding The legates of proud princes to pray help and give service-- Yea, I was a great king at last as I sat there, Peace spread far about me, and the love of all people To my palace gates wafted by each wind of the heavens. --And where sought I all this? with what price did I buy it? Nay, for thou knowest that this fair fame and fortune Came stealing soft-footed to give their gifts to me: And shall I, who was king once, grow griping and weary In unclosing the clenched fists of niggards who hold them, These gifts that I had once, and, having, scarce heeded? Nay, one thing I have sought, I have sought and have found it, And thou, friend, hast helped me and seest me made happy. MASTER OLIVER Farewell then the last time, O land of my fathers! Farewell, feeble hopes that I once held so mighty. Yet no more have I need of but this word that thou sayest, And nought have I to do but to serve thee, my master. In what land of the world shall we dwell now henceforward? KING PHARAMOND In the land where my love our returning abideth, The poor land and kingless of the shepherding people, There is peace there, and all things this land are unlike to. MASTER OLIVER Before the light waneth will I seek for a passage, Since for thee and for me the land groweth perilous: Yea, o'er sweet smell the flowers, too familiar the folk seem, Fain I grow of the salt seas, since all things are over here. KING PHARAMOND I am fain of one hour's farewell in the twilight, To the times I lament not: times worser than these times, To the times that I blame not, that brought on times better-- Let us meet in our hostel--be brave mid thy kindness, Let thy heart say, as mine saith, that fair life awaits us. MASTER OLIVER Yea, no look in thy face is of ruin, O my master; Thou art king yet, unchanged yet, nor is my heart changing; The world hath no chances to conquer thy glory. [_Exit OLIVER_ KING PHARAMOND