Great in the place where great men be, The richest man in all the land? Beside the best then shall I stand, And some unheard-of palace have; And if my soul I may not save In heaven, yet here in all men's eyes Will I make some sweet paradise, With marble cloisters, and with trees And bubbling wells, and fantasies, And things all men deem strange and rare, And crowds of women kind and fair, That I may see, if so I please, Laid on the flowers, or mid the trees With half-clad bodies wandering. There, dwelling happier than the king, What lovely days may yet be mine! How shall I live with love and wine, And music, till I come to die! And then----Who knoweth certainly What haps to us when we are dead? Truly I think by likelihead Nought haps to us of good or bad; Therefore on earth will I be glad A short space, free from hope or fear; And fearless will I enter here And meet my fate, whatso it be." Now on his back a bag had he, To bear what treasure he might win, And therewith now did he begin To go adown the winding stair; And found the walls all painted fair With images of many a thing, Warrior and priest, and queen and king, But nothing knew what they might be. Which things full clearly could he see, For lamps were hung up here and there Of strange device, but wrought right fair, And pleasant savour came from them. At last a curtain, on whose hem Unknown words in red gold were writ, He reached, and softly raising it Stepped back, for now did he behold A goodly hall hung round with gold, And at the upper end could see Sitting, a glorious company: Therefore he trembled, thinking well They were no men, but fiends of hell. But while he waited, trembling sore, And doubtful of his late-earned lore, A cold blast of the outer air Blew out the lamps upon the stair And all was dark behind him; then Did he fear less to face those men Than, turning round, to leave them there While he went groping up the stair. Yea, since he heard no cry or call Or any speech from them at all, He doubted they were images Set there some dying king to please By that Great Master of the art; Therefore at last with stouter heart He raised the cloth and entered in In hope that happy life to win, And drawing nigher did behold That these were bodies dead and cold Attired in full royal guise, And wrought by art in such a wise That living they all seemed to be, Whose very eyes he well could see, That now beheld not foul or fair, Shining as though alive they were. And midmost of that company An ancient king that man could see, A mighty man, whose beard of grey A foot over his gold gown lay; And next beside him sat his queen Who in a flowery gown of green And golden mantle well was clad, And on her neck a collar had Too heavy for her dainty breast; Her loins by such a belt were prest That whoso in his treasury