Once more that stately structure of his dreams Melted like mist. His eagles perished like clouds. Death wound a thin horn through the centuries. The grave resumed his forlorn emperors. He dropped his pen in homage to the truth. Then, when he forged, out of one golden thought, A key to open his prison; when the King, 505 Melted before his passion; do you think Vinegar? He must fawn, haul down his flag, And count all nations nobler than his own, 535 Tear out the lions from the painted shields That hung his poop, for fear that he offend The pride of Spain? Treason to sack the ships Of Spain? The wounds of slaughtered Englishmen Cried out- there is no law beyond the line! 540 550 His battles in the sunset. Yet he knew England! He knew the solid earth was changed To something less than dust among the stars And, O, be sure he knew that he was wrong, That gleams would come, 555 Gleams of a happier world for younger men, That Commonwealth, far off. This was a time Therein you shall find true and lasting riches; But all the rest is nothing. When you have tired Your thoughts on earthly things, when you have travelled Through all the glittering pomps of this proud world You shall sit down by Sorrow in the end. 640 Then God will be a husband unto you, 'Human enough,' said Stukeley, 650 'And yet self-love, self-love!' 'Ah no,' quoth she, 'You have not heard the end: “God knows, I speak it Not to dissuade you". not to dissuade you, mark 655 "From marriage. That will be the best for you, Then There was a dreadful silence in that room, Silence that, as I know, shattered the brain Of Stukeley. When I dared to raise my head Beneath that silent thunder of our God, The man had gone This is his letter, sirs, 690 Written from Lundy Island: "For God's love, Tell them it is a cruel thing to say That I drink blood. I have no secret sin, A thousand pound is not so great a sum; And that is all they paid me, every penny. 695 Salt water, that is all the drink I taste On this rough island. Somebody has taught The sea-gulls how to wail around my hut All night, like lost souls. And there is a face, A dead man's face that laughs in every storm, 700 And sleeps in every pool along the coast. He crumpled up the letter 705 And tossed it into the fire. 'I think you are rightpity villains.' 'Galen,' said Ben, that one should The clock struck twelve. The bells began to peal. We drank a cup of sack to the New Year. 'New songs, new voices, all as fresh as may,' Said Ben to Brome, 'but I shall never live To hear them.' 710 All was not so well, indeed, With Ben, as hitherto. Age had come upon him. 675 He dragged one foot as in paralysis. And called him arrogant. 'My brain,' he said, 'Is yet unhurt although, set round with pain, It cannot long hold out.' He never stopped, Never once pandered to that brainless hour. His coat was thread-bare. Weeks had passed of late 720 Without his voice resounding in our inn. 'The statues are defiled, the gods dethroned, The Ionian movement reigns, not the free soul. And, as for me, I have lived too long,' he said. 'Well I can weave the old threnodies anew.' 725 I drink to that great Inn beyond the grave; 750 And hope to greet my golden lads ere long. He raised his cup and drank in silence. Brome Drank with him, too. The bells had ceased to peal. Galen shook hands, and bade us all good. night. Then Brome, a little wistfully, I thought, 755 Looked at his old-time master, and prepared To follow. 'Good night Before he spoke the Good night! Ben,' he said, a pause name. 'Good night! And like a shadow I crept back again, 770 And stole into the night. There as I stood Under the painted sign, I could have vowed That I, too, heard the voices of the dead, The voices of his old companions, Gathering round him in that lonely room, 775 Till all the timbers of the Mermaid Inn Trembled above me with their ghostly song: |