Yea, often in that happy trance, Beside the blessed countenance Of golden Michael, on the spire Glowing all crimson in the fire Of sunset, I behold a face, Which sometime, if God give me grace, May kiss me in this very place. _Evening in the tower._ RAPUNZEL. It grows half way between the dark and light; Love, we have been six hours here alone: I fear that she will come before the night, And if she finds us thus we are undone. THE PRINCE. Nay, draw a little nearer, that your breath May touch my lips, let my cheek feel your arm; Now tell me, did you ever see a death, Or ever see a man take mortal harm? RAPUNZEL. Once came two knights and fought with swords below, And while they fought I scarce could look at all, My head swam so; after, a moaning low Drew my eyes down; I saw against the wall One knight lean dead, bleeding from head and breast, Yet seem'd it like a line of poppies red In the golden twilight, as he took his rest, In the dusky time he scarcely seemed dead. But the other, on his face, six paces off, Lay moaning, and the old familiar name He mutter'd through the grass, seem'd like a scoff Of some lost soul remembering his past fame. His helm all dinted lay beside him there, The visor-bars were twisted towards the face, The crest, which was a lady very fair, Wrought wonderfully, was shifted from its place. The shower'd mail-rings on the speedwell lay, Perhaps my eyes were dazzled with the light That blazed in the west, yet surely on that day Some crimson thing had changed the grass from bright Pure green I love so. But the knight who died Lay there for days after the other went; Until one day I heard a voice that cried: Fair knight, I see Sir Robert we were sent To carry dead or living to the king. So the knights came and bore him straight away On their lance truncheons, such a batter'd thing, His mother had not known him on that day, But for his helm-crest, a gold lady fair Wrought wonderfully. THE PRINCE. Ah, they were brothers then, And often rode together, doubtless where The swords were thickest, and were loyal men, Until they fell in these same evil dreams. RAPUNZEL. Yea, love; but shall we not depart from hence? The white moon groweth golden fast, and gleams Between the aspens stems; I fear, and yet a sense Of fluttering victory comes over me, That will not let me fear aright; my heart, Feel how it beats, love, strives to get to thee; I breathe so fast that my lips needs must part; Your breath swims round my mouth, but let us go. THE PRINCE.