"Oh, I'm like one who o'er her light, Her lamp of love, bends down, when, lo! All on a sudden, out of night, Dashing it down, there comes a blow That leaves all darkness; and she hears A demon whispering in the gloom, That shuts her in with all her fears," So thought she, lonely in her room. Then took her lute and touched such airs As Tristram loved, sad songs of Breön, She once had heard, all unawares, Sir Launcelot sing in old Caerleön, To Guinevere upon the stairs, The terrace stairs, beside the Usk, Deep in the nightingale-haunted dusk. Then ceased, and wept until the stars, Seen through her tears, made heaven all tears, On fire with tears, that left their scars Upon its face; and all the years Of grief and love seemed in their spheres: And reaching out her arms she cried, "O God! O God! that I had died! O Tristram! Tristram! art thou near? O love, be near me in this hour! This hour of anguish and of fear! Which,--(like yon fountain's ceaseless foam, Unseen, beneath this starlit tower, Deep in the shadow of its dome),-- Throbs on and on within my life, The utter darkness of its woe.-- O hour of grief! O hour of strife! Why must my young heart suffer so? Why must my sick soul sigh and sigh, And God not hear nor let me die?" VI When rose the moon, and far away A nightingale beneath the tower, Heard through the fountain's falling spray, Made lonelier yet that lonely hour; And 'twixt the nodding grove and lake A glimmering fawn stalked through the night, And snuffed the wind, then bent to slake Its thirst; she veiled her face,--as white As death's,--and said: "The way is clear! There is no use in waiting here! Come! let me cure this heart that bursts! This pain is more than I can bear!-- Come! let me still this soul that thirsts!... Upon the lake, as thick as stars In heav'n, the lilies lie asleep.-- There lies a way beyond these bars, These walls of flesh that hold and keep! The nightingale shall find its mate, The fawn its fellow, and must I, The spouse of grief, the wife of hate, Live on alone until I die?-- How long, how long, O God, to wait!"... Far through the darkness went her cry. THE DREAM OF SIR GALAHAD _With the knights Peredur and Gawain he sits, in a chapel in Lyonesse, speaking while the dawn slowly reddens on the sea, gray-seen through the open door._ I Cast on sleep there came to me Three great angels, o'er the sea Moaning near the priory: Cloudy clad in awful white, Each one's face, a lucid light, Rayed and blossomed out of night. II In my sleep I saw them rest, Each, a long hand on her breast, Like the new-moon in the west: And their hair like sunset rolled Down their shoulders, burning cold, An insufferable gold. III