There burned our breaming-fagots All pale along the shore: There rose our worn pavilions-- A sail above an oar: As flashed each yearning anchor Through mellow seas afire, So swift our careless captains Rowed each to his desire. Where lay our loosened harness? Where turned our naked feet? Whose tavern ’mid the palm-trees? What quenchings of what heat? Oh fountain in the desert! Oh cistern in the waste! Oh bread we ate in secret! Oh cup we spilled in haste! The youth new-taught of longing, The widow curbed and wan-- The goodwife proud at season, And the maid aware of man; All souls unslaked, consuming, Defrauded in delays, Desire not more their quittance Than I those forfeit days! I dreamed to wait my pleasure Unchanged my spring would bide: Wherefore, to wait my pleasure, I put my spring aside Till, first in face of Fortune, And last in mazed disdain, I made Diego Valdez High Admiral of Spain. Then walked no wind ’neath Heaven Nor surge that did not aid-- I dared extreme occasion, Nor ever one betrayed. They wrought a deeper treason-- (Led seas that served my needs!) They sold Diego Valdez To bondage of great deeds. The tempest flung me seaward, And pinned and bade me hold The course I might not alter-- And men esteemed me bold! The calms embayed my quarry, The fog-wreath sealed his eyes; The dawn-wind brought my topsails-- And men esteemed me wise! Yet ’spite my tyrant triumphs Bewildered, dispossessed-- My dream held I before me-- My vision of my rest; But, crowned by Fleet and People, And bound by King and Pope-- Stands here Diego Valdez To rob me of my hope! No prayer of mine shall move him, No word of his set free The Lord of Sixty Pennants And the Steward of the Sea. His will can loose ten thousand To seek their loves again-- But not Diego Valdez, High Admiral of Spain. There walks no wind ’neath Heaven Nor wave that shall restore The old careening riot And the clamorous, crowded shore-- The fountain in the desert, The cistern in the waste, The bread we ate in secret, The cup we spilled in haste! Now call I to my Captains-- For council fly the sign, Now leap their zealous galleys Twelve-oared across the brine. To me the straiter prison, To me the heavier chain-- To me Diego Valdez, High Admiral of Spain! THE BROKEN MEN [Page 39] For things we never mention, For Art misunderstood-- For excellent intention That did not turn to good; From ancient tales’ renewing, From clouds we would not clear-- Beyond the Law’s pursuing We fled, and settled here.