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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539833" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Princes' Quest - Part the Third</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">So without rest or tarriance all that night,<br>Until the world was blear with coming light,<br>Forth fared the princely fugitive, nor stayed<br>His wearied feet till morn returning made<br>Some village all a-hum with wakeful stir;<br>And from that place the royal wayfarer<br>Went ever faster on and yet more fast,<br>Till, ere the noontide sultriness was past,<br>Upon his ear the burden of the seas<br>Came dreamlike, heard upon a cool fresh breeze<br>That tempered gratefully a fervent sky.<br>And many an hour ere sundown he drew nigh<br>A fair-built seaport, warder of the land<br>And watcher of the wave, with odours fanned<br>Of green fields and of blue from either side;-<br>A pleasant place, wherein he might abide,<br>Unknown of man or woman, till such time<br>As any ship should sail to that far clime<br>Where lived the famous great astrologer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Entered within its gates, a wanderer<br>Besoiled with dust and no-wise richly drest,<br>Yet therewithal a prince and princeliest<br>Of princes, with the press of motley folk<br>He mixed unheeded and unknown, nor spoke<br>To any, no man speaking unto him,<br>But, being wearied sore in every limb,<br>Sought out a goodly hostel where he might<br>Rest him and eat and tarry for the night:<br>And having eaten he arose and passed<br>Down to the wharves where many a sail and mast<br>Showed fiery-dark against the setting sun:<br>There, holding talk with whom he chanced upon,<br>In that same hour by great good hap he found<br>The master of a vessel outward-bound<br>Upon the morrow for that selfsame port<br>Whither he sought to go (where dwelt at court<br>The mage deep-read in starry charact'ry).<br>An honest man and pleasant-tongued was he,<br>This worthy master-mariner; and since<br>He had no scorn of well-got gain, the Prince<br>Agreed to pay him certain sums in gold,<br>And go aboard his vessel, ere were told<br>Two hours of sunlight on the coming day;<br>And thus agreed they wended each his way,<br>For the dusk hour was nigh, and all the West<br>Lay emptied of its sun. But as he pressed<br>Up the long seaward-sloping street that ran<br>Through half the town, the Prince sought out a man<br>Who dealt in pearls and diamonds and all<br>Manner of stones which men do precious call;<br>To whom the least of his three gems he sold<br>For a great price, and laden with the gold<br>Forthwith returned unto his hostelry<br>And dreamed all night of seaports and the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Early the morrow-morn, a fair soft gale<br>Blowing from overland, the ship set sail<br>At turning of the tide; and from her deck<br>The Prince gazed till the town was but a speck,<br>And all the shore became a memory:<br>And still he gazed, though more he might not see<br>Than the wide waters and the great wide sky.<br>And many a long unchangeful day went by<br>Ere land was sighted, but at length uprose<br>A doubtful dusky something, toward the close<br>Of the last hour before one sultry noon:<br>Most like an isle of cloud it seemed, but soon<br>The sailors knew it for the wishèd strand,<br>And ere the evenfall they reached the land,<br>And that same night the royal wanderer lay<br>In a strange city, amid strange folk, till Day<br>Rose from the dim sea's lap and with his wings<br>Fanned into wakefulness all breathing things.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then he uprose, but going forth that morn<br>A sadness came upon him, and forlorn<br>He felt within himself, and nowise light<br>Of heart: for all his lonely travel might<br>Prove void and fruitless and of no avail,<br>(Thus pondered he) and should it wholly fail,<br>What then were left him for to do? Return<br>To his own country, that his kin might learn<br>To know him duped and fooled of fantasies,<br>Blown hither and thither by an idle breeze<br>From Dreamland? Or in lieu, perchance, of this,<br>Wander unresting, reft of hope and bliss,<br>A mariner on a sea that hath no coast,<br>Seeking a shade, himself a shade, and lost<br>In shadows, as a wave is lost i' the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus in a heart not lightsome pondered he,<br>And roamed from unfamiliar street to street,<br>Much marvelling that all he chanced to meet<br>Showed faces troubled as his own: for some<br>Did weep outright, and over all a gloom<br>Hung, as a cloud that blotteth out the sun.<br>Wherefore the Prince addressed him unto one<br>Of sadder visage even than the rest,<br>Who, ever as he walked, or beat his breast<br>Or groaned aloud or with his fingers rent<br>His robe, and, being besought to say what meant<br>This look of rue on all men's faces, cried<br>In loud amazement, 'What, can any abide<br>Within this city, having ears to hear,<br>Yet know not how this morn the mighty seer<br>Hath died and left the land all desolate?<br>For now, when sudden ills befall the state,<br>There will be none to warn or prophesy<br>As he, but when calamities are nigh<br>No man will know till they be come and we<br>Be all undone together, woe is me!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus ended he his outcry and again<br>Passed on his way and mixed with other men<br>Scarce joyfuller than he, if less they spake.<br>Meanwhile upon the Prince's heart there brake<br>Grief like a bitter wind, beneath whose breath<br>Hope paled and sickened well-nigh unto death:<br>For lo, those dumb and formless fears that came<br>Within his heart that morn, and, like a flame<br>That flickers long and dimly ere it die,<br>Tarried and would not pass, but fitfully<br>Flickered and flared and paled and flared again,-<br>Lo, those mysterious messengers of pain,<br>Dumb formless fears, were they not verified?<br>And lo, that voyage o'er the waters wide,<br>Was it not vain and a most empty thing?<br>And what might now the years avail to bring,<br>But hopes that barren live and barren die?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus did his heart with many an inward sigh<br>Ask of itself, though answer there was none<br>To be returned: and so the day, begun<br>Tristfully, trailed an ever wearier wing;<br>Till toward night another questioning<br>Like a strange voice from far beset his soul:<br>And as a low wind wails for very dole<br>About a tarn whereof the listless wave<br>Maketh no answer to its plaining, save<br>A sound that seems the phantom of its own,<br>So that low voice making unbidden moan<br>No answer got, saving the many sighs<br>Its echoes; and in this reproachful wise,<br>Heaping new pain on him disconsolate,<br>The low voice spake and spake, importunate:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Prince that wast and wanderer that art,<br>Say doth love live within thy hidden heart<br>(Love born of dream but nurtured wakingly)<br>Ev'n as that Once when thy soul's eyes did see<br>Love's visible self, and worshipt? Or hast thou<br>Fall'n from thy faith in Her and Love ere now,<br>And is thy passion as a robe outworn?<br>Nay, love forbid! Yet wherefore art thou lorn<br>Of hope and peace if Love be still thine own?<br>For, were the wondrous vision thou hast known<br>Indeed Love's voice and Fate's (which are the same)<br>Then, even as surely as the vision came,<br>So surely shall it be fulfilled, if faith<br>Abide in thee; but if thy spirit saith<br>Treason of Love or Fate, and unbelief<br>House in thy heart, then surely shall swift grief<br>Find thee, and hope (that should be as a breath<br>Of song undying) shall even die the death,<br>And thou thyself the death-in-life shalt see,<br>O Prince that wast, O wanderer that shalt be!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>So spake the Voice. And in the pauses of<br>That secret Voice, there 'gan to wake and move,<br>Deep in his heart, a thing of blackest ill-<br>The shapeless shadow men call Doubt, until<br>That hour all unacquainted with his soul:<br>And being tormented sore of this new dole,<br>There came on him a longing to explore<br>That sleep-discovered flowery land once more,<br>Isled in the dark of the soul; for he did deem<br>That were he once again to dream The Dream,<br>His faith new-stablished would stand, and be<br>No longer vext of this infirmity.<br>And so that night, ere lying down to sleep,<br>There came on him, half making him to weep<br>And half to laugh that such a thing should be,<br>A mad conceit and antic fantasy<br>(And yet more sad than merry was the whim)<br>To crave this boon of Sleep, beseeching him<br>To send the dream of dreams most coveted.<br>And ere he lay him down upon his bed,<br>A soft sweet song was born within his thought;<br>But if he sang the song, or if 'twas nought<br>But the soul's longing whispered to the soul,<br>Himself knew hardly, while the passion stole<br>From that still depth where passion lieth prone,<br>And voiced itself in this-like monotone:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O Sleep, thou hollow sea, thou soundless sea,<br>Dull-breaking on the shores of haunted lands,<br>Lo, I am thine: do what thou wilt with me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But while, as yet unbounden of thy bands,<br>I hear the breeze from inland chide and chafe<br>Along the margin of thy muttering sands,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Somewhat I fain would crave, if thou vouchsafe<br>To hear mine asking, and to heed wilt deign.<br>Behold, I come to fling me as a waif</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Upon thy waters, O thou murmuring main!<br>So on some wasteful island cast not me,<br>Where phantom winds to phantom skies complain,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And creeping terrors crawl from out the sea,<br>(For such thou hast)-but o'er thy waves not cold<br>Bear me to yonder land once more, where She</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sits throned amidst of magic wealth untold:<br>Golden her palace, golden all her hair,<br>Golden her city 'neath a heaven of gold!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So may I see in dreams her tresses fair<br>Down-falling, as a wave of sunlight rests<br>On some white cloud, about her shoulders bare,<br>Nigh to the snowdrifts twain which are her breasts.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So ran the song,-say rather, so did creep,<br>With drowsy faltering feet unsure, till Sleep<br>Himself made end of it, with no rude touch<br>Sealing the lips that babbled overmuch.<br>Howbeit the boon of boons most coveted<br>Withholden was, and in that vision's stead<br>Another Dream from its dim hold uprose,<br>Which he who tells the tale shall straight disclose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Watson">William Watson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539833" data-title="The Princes' Quest - Part the Third de William Watson" data-description="So without rest or tarriance all that night,
Until the world was blear with coming light,
Forth fared the princely fugitive, nor stayed
His wearied feet till morn returning made
Some village all a-hum with wakeful stir;
And from that place the roy..."></div>
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