Said I not when thou knew'st it, all courage should fail thee? But me--my heart fails not, I am Pharamond as ever. I shall seek and shall find--come help me, my fosterer! --Yet if thou shouldst ask for a sign from that country What have I to show thee--I plucked a blue milk-wort From amidst of the field where she wandered fair-footed-- It was gone when I wakened--and once in my wallet I set some grey stones from the way through the forest-- These were gone when I wakened--and once as I wandered A lock of white wool from a thorn-bush I gathered; It was gone when I wakened--the name of that country-- Nay, how should I know it?--but ever meseemeth 'Twas not in the southlands, for sharp in the sunset And sunrise the air is, and whiles I have seen it Amid white drift of snow--ah, look up, foster-father! MASTER OLIVER O woe, woe is me that I may not awaken! Or else, art thou verily Pharamond my fosterling, The Freed and the Freer, the Wise, the World's Wonder? KING PHARAMOND Why fainteth thy great heart? nay, Oliver, hearken, E'en such as I am now these five years I have been. Through five years of striving this dreamer and dotard Has reaped glory from ruin, drawn peace from destruction. MASTER OLIVER Woe's me! wit hath failed me, and all the wise counsel I was treasuring up down the wind is a-drifting-- Yet what wouldst thou have there if ever thou find it? Are the gates of heaven there? is Death bound there and helpless? KING PHARAMOND Nay, thou askest me this not as one without knowledge, For thou know'st that my love in that land is abiding. MASTER OLIVER Yea--woe worth the while--and all wisdom hath failed me: Yet if thou wouldst tell me of her, I will hearken Without mocking or mourning, if that may avail thee. KING PHARAMOND Lo, thy face is grown kind--Thou rememberest the even When I first wore the crown after sore strife and mourning? MASTER OLIVER Who shall ever forget it? the dead face of thy father, And thou in thy fight-battered armour above it, Mid the passion of tears long held back by the battle; And thy rent banner o'er thee and the ring of men mail-clad, Victorious to-day, since their ruin but a spear-length Was thrust away from them.--Son, think of thy glory And e'en in such wise break the throng of these devils! KING PHARAMOND