Shut in what tower of darkling chance Dream'st thou of battle-axe and lance Or dungeon of a narrow doom, That for the Cross make crashing room? Come with hushed breath the battle waits In the wild van thy mace's swing; TWO SCENES FROM THE LIFE OF While doubters parley with their fates, BLONDEL. Make thou thine own and ours, my king! I had found out what prison King | But her rivets were clinched by a wiser Richard was in, crashing through, than you, And our sins cannot push the Lord's right hand from under. Better one honest man who can wait for God's mind In our poor shifting scene here though heroes were plenty ! Better one bite, at forty, of Truth's bitter rind, Than the hot wine that gushed from the vintage of twenty! I see it all now: when I wanted a king, 'T was the kingship that failed in myself I was seeking, 'Tis so much less easy to do than to sing, So much simpler to reign by a proxy than be king! Yes, I think I do see: after all's said and sung, Take this one rule of life and you never will rue it, 'Tis but do your own duty and hold your own tongue And Blondel were royal himself, if he knew it ! If a whisk of Fate's broom snap your Our lives were but for this immortal gain Of unstilled longing and inspiring pain! cobweb asunder; |