There was a King's Son, once upon a time, Dwelling in a fair country, far away Even on the other side of Fairyland, Beyond the mountains and the sea. Through all His young life, he had never sought in vain, But what he asked was given; yet none the less The King's Son was not happy. Day by day, The King his father, that had been himself A king's son, gave him horse and hawk and hound, And taught him to ride straight and keep his spear Sharp, and his armour shining, to be strong In war, and swift upon the hunt, and wise In judgment, honouring the law. The Queen His mother, that had been a princess, gave him Silks and gems, a warm hearth and a soft bed, A table rich with spices and old wine, Red gold and ready servants; and taught him how To speak fair, understanding women's eyes, And sing sweet songs, charming the hearts of men, And be a prince in all. And his old nurse, That once had been a fairy in her youth -- A brown and twisted witch like a dead tree -- Gave him a great white cat, that all day long Drowsed in the sun or dozed before the fire, With emerald eyes half shut, and paws turned in, Nor ever purred nor rubbed against his knee -- But when the King's Son called her beautiful, Yawned, and looked elsewhere. And she told him tales Of elves and giants, wizards, trolls, and gnomes, And sleepless dragons, breathing flame, that kept Watch over hidden gold, and spellbound kings, And lone princesses in enchanted towers -- Wonderful stories out of Fairyland, With all the sorry parts left out of them. And yet the King's Son was not happy. True, He sang and laughed, rode merrily to the hunt, And sat in council proudly. Yet he lacked In all these, what should prove a use for all -- A cause for fight, a dream behind the song -- And having all things, wanted -- Everything. Now, it befell that while the King's Son slept One sweet midsummer midnight in the gloom Of his high chamber, the White Cat, that crawled Mousing amid the shadows, touched his hand In passing, and at the touch the King's Son sighed And stirred, opening his eyes. The moonlight fell Through leaves that breathed about his window, and lay In two broad bars athwart the chamber floor; And between sleep and waking he beheld A milk-white Princess out of Fairyland Dancing under the moonbeams, glad as youth, Beautiful as the memory of a dream, And sweet as hope. Her eyes were like the dawn; Her hair was like the twilight; and she moved Like music over water. And the King's Son Looking upon her, felt his whole heart break For wonder and great love. Then suddenly, Ere he could move or speak, a shadow crossed The light, and a breeze brushed the leaves, and blew Balm from the drowsy gardens, and passed by; And the Prince, gazing where his joy had been, Saw only emptiness. And while he watched, Forth from the shadow stole the great White Cat, And yawned, stretching her claws out one by one, And shook her ears, and turned, and walked away Waving her plumy tail aloft in air. But on the morrow, the Prince came before His father and his mother, saying: "Now That I am one-and-twenty, and a man, It is full time I proved your gifts to me Upon some high endeavour; for I live As a fat hawk here, or a pampered hound, Doing all things with cause for doing none, Useless. But last night, waking suddenly And wavering on the brink of sleep, I saw Where the broad moonbeams fell from wall to wall, A milk-white Fairy Princess dancing there, Beautiful as the memory of a dream, And sweet as hope. Her eyes were like the dawn; Her hair was like the twilight; and she moved Like music over water. And I knew, Gazing upon her, that my life was hers. And I shall follow her to Fairyland And find her, and possess her, or I die." And the King answered: "This is but a dream, Such as young blood dreams in the summer. Nay, By thine own speech I know it for a dream -- Moon-maidens dancing! Use and uselessness! -- Bide here till harvest, when our foemen spring Out of the south, ten thousand spears: that war Shall find thee use enow. Nevertheless, If thou must ride a-dreaming, take my sword. I won my kingdom with it years ago, But it shall never win thee thy desire." And the Queen cried, clutching her mother-heart With one white hand: "Child, there has fallen a spell Upon thee. Thou hast slept under the moon, And that breeds madness. Bide thou here, and let Wise doctors wash this vapour from thy brain. Are there no maids in our own country? Still, If thou must go a-maying, take my harp -- I won my treasure with it, years ago, Yet it shall never charm thee to thy dream." Lastly the old Nurse drew from out her breast A dingy mirror, cracked and stained, set round With dull gold and dim gems, muttering: "Take this; For they who seek in vain through Fairyland Their hearts' desire, perish. Do I not know? I was dead once, and saw my life therein -- Yet ... it shall never show thee thine own face." But the King's Son, scarce heeding their dark speech For the light of his dream within him, took the gifts, And called for horse and arms, and rode away Singing, across the sunshine. And the White Cat That drowsed on the warm stones beside the door, Twisting her lazy body in the sun, Rose up, and ran before him upon his way, And would not stay behind, nor be denied. So the King's Son rode forth, following his dream Over bright meadows merry with flower and bee, And through cool woods holy with moss and fern, Even to the utmost borders of the world, Beyond the mountains and the sea. And still The White Cat went before, nor ever turned To look on him, nor paused, nor gave a sign Of watching that he followed, but went on As one that fared alone at her own will, And pointed out his way. But when they came To the huge wall of gold that guards the bounds Of Fairyland, its glimmering length flung far From dawn to sundown, and the gates aflame With amethyst and opal, whereupon Is written in a tongue old as the world: "Who enters here must seek his heart's desire" -- And overhead, hung by a single hair, A great sword shines and swings, trembling -- she stayed; And would not pass there till he went before, Then followed. And the King's Son, entering, rode Through a glad country bright with sun, and fair With blossoms that before his charger's feet Sprang up, and shed their fragrance, and fell down Fading behind him; and the low skies burned Purple and rose and saffron, as if the dawn Lingered and flushed the noonday; and the trees Reached forth green arms to him, and brushed his cheek Like soft hands; and the breeze behind him shook With whispers, and in front through the warm green, White breasts flashed, and dark eyes glanced, and a sound Of girlish laughter fled from tree to tree; And the sweet air sang in his blood like wine. And the King's Son, riding, unslung his harp, And sang across the summer and the sun: "Youth rides forth to-day! Lads of mettle rare, Ladies debonair -- Will ye say him nay? Joy shall dance and play, Love shall clasp and cling, Through the glad array Of his following. "Over earth and air Flows the fire of spring, Filling everything, Thrilling everywhere; Shall a world so fair, Calling, be denied? Bid him dare to dare -- Bid him mount and ride! "Round him in a ring Gather glorified -- Every maid a bride, Every man a king -- Wreaths and roses fling Down his conquering way; Laugh and kiss and sing -- Youth rides forth to-day!" And as the song closed, all around broke out A clapping of tiny hands, and all the air Filled with soft cries of pleasure; and he felt About his neck the clasp of invisible arms, And touch of bodiless lips upon his own; And shimmering winds flashed by, and caught his cloak And tugged his bridle. Only the White Cat Beside his stirrup paid no heed, but yawned, Curving her pink tongue, and looked elsewhere. Then, Far off a solitary trumpet rang From that which, glittering on the distant hills, Blazed like a lesser sun. Whither the Prince, Following his viewless guides across the plain Deep-spread with bloomy fragrance, was aware Of a tall castle all of glittering glass, Whose towers the clouds encrimsoned, and whose base The earth tinged living green; and its whole breadth Brake diamond-like into a myriad lights Of wall and buttress, porch and parapet, Cornice and battlement and balcony, And clustered columns branching into arch Like frozen spray; and the slant lights, and lines Tangled, and the clear substance of it all, So mazed his vision that he rode half blind Before the glare thereof, nor might discern The outer from the inner. But he saw, High on a fretted balcony that hung In one broad band of fire from tower to tower, A pearl-white Princess crowned with gold, and robed In purple. And her eyes were like the day; Her hair was like the summer; and she moved Like sunshine on the sea. And leaning down, She stretched her arms toward him, and cried his name, Saying: "I weary of the brightness here. Come." And with that, the King's Son gave one cry, Recognizing the vision of his dream, And spurred his charger to the gate, and seized The golden horn that hung there, and breathed deep, Then blew. Slowly the drawbridge creaked and swung, Descending; the portcullis rose; the gates Opened, and down that shining pathway strode A monstrous giant, all in golden arms, Demanding what he sought; whereto the Prince: "Do battle for the Princess prisoned there." So the twain rushed together, while above, The Princess on her balcony laughed loud, And called, cheering them on; and the White Cat, That in the midmost branches of an elm Clung bristling, like a ball of thistledown, Hissed angrily. And the Giant heaved on high His mace, and at the first stroke, stooping, swung Against the charger's feet, and swept him down Sidelong beneath his rider, as the scythe Topples the standing corn. But the King's Son Leaped clear, and found foothold, and sprang within The swing of the huge mace upon him; and then, Mindful at once of many a fairy tale -- How giants all are weakliest at the knee -- And gathering his whole might into one stroke, Stabbed. And the Giant roared aloud, and swung Tottering a moment, then clanged down. His shield Boomed like a gong, and the ground under him Rang hollow, smitten by his golden arms, As though the earth were golden; and the sound Rolled bellowing from beneath, and jarred afar In subterranean thunder, and rumbled away Beyond the horizon. So the Giant fell, And heaved and groaned a moment, and lay still. And the King's Son, amazed to have won the quest So easily, dizzy with joy, and strong In the surety of his triumph, turned, and strode Over the drawbridge, through the fiery arch Of those high gates, and crossed the echoing hall, And climbed the glassy stairway, where his dream Waited him. And he knelt before her feet. And kissed her hand, murmuring: "Lo, I have come, Having seen thee and sought thee. Therefore follow me Home to my father's kingdom." And she said, Smiling into his eyes: "Wherefore?" She seemed Rosier than he had seen her in his dream, And sturdier. Nevertheless his whole heart burned For rapture of her, and he rose, and flung His arms out, saying: "I have fought, and slain The Giant." And she laughed, answering: "What then? He is my Giant." And at that, the Prince, Empty of words and sick with a strange fear, Stood wavering, while the fabric of his dream Dissolved around him. At the last, he said Foolishly, hating the sound of his own speech: "It is not so in any fairy tale." But while he spoke, the White Cat from beneath Cried warning; and he turned, and looking down Through glassy walls and floors, suddenly beheld The fallen Giant spring up, and rush within; And the halls resounded with him, ere he came Upon them, howling with laughter, and upswung His massy mace, and with one huge blow shattered The King's sword, and crushed down the King's Son. Then The Princess and the Giant lifted him, And spoiled him of his arms, and bound him fast With golden chains, and prisoned him far down In a dim dungeon underneath the moat, As far below the green earth as from thence Even to the pinnacle of the tallest tower; And there, barren of sense and strength, he lay. All day the White Cat, wandering forlorn Around the enchanted castle, sought in vain Her master; for her eyes, fitted for gloom Where men's eyes fail them, shrank from sun, and where The glassy fortress reared its glittering height, Saw neither wall nor tower nor any form Nor substance: only a blind golden glare Unbearable. But when the sun sank down And the lights paled, rising, and rosily Flushed, lingering on the battlements, and night Fell, she crept forward very carefully To the moat's edge, and looking downward, saw Through fathoms of wan water and clear glass Where he lay, chained and prisoned. At that sight, She raised a dolorous cry, and would have gone To him, but shrank back frighted at the touch Of the chill water. And the King's Son heard Her wailing through his swoon, and seemed to hear The Princess crying to him for help; and so Waking, looked up through glassy wall and floor To a bright banquet chamber, where the twain, Crowned with red gold and garlanded with flowers, Feasted, Princess and Giant, laughing wild And sporting amorously; and his own arms Hung with a hundred others on the wall: Whereto they raised their cups, and pledged each other, Embracing, and drank deep. Thereupon the Prince, Feeling his whole strength beaten back on him In one dry gust of agony, sprang, and brake The chains whose links fell, tinkling goldenly Like small bells; and he leaped upward, and swam Through glassy walls and floors as a diver climbs Through water, labouring, and won forth, and fled Headlong, dishonoured and disarmed, his sword Gone, and his charger slain, and his dead dream Festering within him. Only his harp remained, And the dull mirror at his girdle hung, And the White Cat, following him silently, Whereof he noted nothing, but rushed on Through glooms odorous with drowsy blossoms, whose breath Seemed like her hair, and winds that cooled his brow Like her hands, and still lights that shone afar Most like her eyes whom he had found in vain, The Princess; and her face was everywhere Before him, beautiful with joy, and warm With tenderness; and ever by her side The golden Giant grinned, and pawed her hair And pinched her cheek, while she laughed up, and lay Surrendering. And the burden of that sight So bore upon him that he took no heed Of place or way or distance, but plunged on Through the void night beset with evil dreams, Hopeless, across the immeasurable plain. But when the dawn came, and a cold light spread Over the hills behind them, the King's Son Paused on a westering rise, looking behind Across the levels toward the light; and where The glassy keep had reared its glittering towers, Saw only emptiness and wavy lines Against the sunrise, like the air that swims Above a flame, or formless glints that fleck The edges of a crystal. All between Lay the broad valley veiled in shimmering mist From hill to hill. And the keen wind blew clear The meshes of his mind, and night and shame, Battle, Giant and Princess, and all else Bitterly remembered, for a moment seemed A nightmare whence awake he felt no more, Wondering to find himself so free from pain And breathing deep of rest. Then, seeing himself Horseless and swordless and unarmed, the weight Of his remembered sorrow fell again, Yet lightlier; for that clear breath left him still Doubting; and with that thought, the shimmering mist That brimmed the valley overflowed, and rose Over him; and he turned and went on, folded Fathoms deep in a cool cloud, overhead Faint-flushed with sunrise, and beneath tinged wan By the green earth, and whitening all around So that he seemed buried in a huge pearl Wherethrough all things loomed formless, rock and tree Shadows, himself a shadow, and the White Cat A shadow upon a shadow. So he fared Sightless for many days, knowing not where Nor whither, save that the ground swelled in hills And sank in hollows, growing hour by hour Rough travelling, yet it seemed the general trend Led upward. And the whiteness all the while Wavered with wreathy shapes that fled before Or brushed beside him, or above leaned down Whispering, and plucked his sleeve and pressed him on, Bringing with them a momentary breath Of bloom or blush of colour. Yet he took Small heed of them for the increasing toil Of journey, and the trouble of his brain Unravelling all his deeds: he should have stayed And stabbed the fallen Giant; or escaped Battle, and seeking entrance by some wile, Have slain him sleeping; or in that last bout Fought harder, and prevailed; or at the end Fallen upon them ere he fled, and slain Both, or himself have perished; or perchance If he had done some evil on the way, Or broke some law of Faery, whence himself Was cursed, and his quest barren; and in all Lurked the arch-doubt, whether in very truth The princess were his Princess even so, Or whether having seen her in vision at first Gave him true right to seek and win her. So He toiled through clouds, following the land, nor cared Whither nor wherefore. And the White Cat ran A white shadow beside him, making no sign Of service, but went forward silently As one that fared by her own will. At length, Clambering a rocky slope interminable, He reached the height, and paused, and standing there Fronted a firm wind, and the mist fell, blown Asunder, and the stars shone. All around, Vast mountains bulked against an ebony sky League beyond league, crested with snow, and floored With sea-green pines; as though the almighty deep, Heaving his foamy legions to the war Of the four winds, hung suddenly motionless -- A storm in stone; and the moon, shining down Through ripply streams of cloud that warmed from pearl To amber around her, silvered the long swells Of peak and pine, and carved in jetty shade The forms of crag and canyon, precipice And fissure, gorge and ridge and chasm, and swept The hollow vales with mystery. And the Prince Gazed through crystalline space, breathing the air Of balsamed groves; and his fears fell away Blown leeward, and his faith cleared, and his dream Shone forth once more new-born before him. Then, Far away thrilled a lilt of delicate song From that which, glimmering on a silvern ridge, Gleamed like a larger moon. And the King's Son, Plunging through fresh glooms of the piny dell And laboring up the further slope, was ware Of a pale palace all of glimmering ice, Whose domes the moon illumined, and whose walls The forest fringed with deepening green. Behind, A still lake held the clouds; in front, the trees Crusted with frost, shot forth a million fires Of emerald and opal, tourmaline, Jasper and beryl; and the palace itself So drank the sky and paled above the lake And sparkled with the trees, that all its lines Filmed into lights and hollows without form, A gem folded in darkness. And while the Prince Hesitated, the doors moved, and there came Forth from its luminous halls under the sky A snow-white Princess robed in azure and crowned With silver; and her eyes were like the moon; Her hair was like the midnight; and she moved Like starlight on a river. And she took His hand, and spoke his name softly, and turned Her face up, saying: "I have waited long, And thou hast wandered far to find me. Come -- I weary of the stillness here." And he, Recognizing the vision of his dream, Yet for the memory of unhappiness Doubtful: "Hast thou in truth awaited me?" And while he spoke, a writhing shadow fell Between them, and with great wings covering the moon, Over the hills a dreadful dragon flew, Scaled all in venomous green like the bright scum That shines on stagnant water; and his eyes, Lidless, flickered unsteady fires, and forth Out of his nostrils puffed thin wreaths of smoke. Folding his leathery vans, the monster swung To rest beside them, and his talons rasped The gravel. Then the Princess, with one arm Over his scaly crest: "Behold my Lord And Master. Therefore, if thou bear a heart Strong beyond common love, casting out fear, Follow." The Dragon swelled, and firelit smoke Puffed with his laughter. And the King's Son, all His heart heated with horror of such a mate, And all his manhood strung with danger, strode After them. But the White Cat bent herself Into a feathery arch, and fluffed her tail, Hissing hatred, and fled, and hid herself In the green lights and shadows of the trees, And would not enter. But the King's Son passed Through shadowy halls lit by the Dragon's eyes, And chilly galleries heated by his breath, To a high banquet-chamber where the three Feasted. And ever the Princess smiled on him Across the board, with timorous glances thrown Sidelong, and starry beckoning of the eyes Behind the Dragon, and through subtle speech Of nothing, words and tones promising all, And thrills of understanding undeclared -- So that his dream shone out with every breath Stronger and lovelier; and his wonder grew That having lost once, he could love the more, Being grown wise in loving. And he burned To battle with the Dragon, and triumph, and bear All that sweet beauty home. Yet, being now Swordless, and for his first failure the more Certain of death if he again should fail, And for the Princess watching and warning him, Hesitated, trusting in her. At last The Princess, glancing where the Dragon lay, His scaly length melting into the floor And lidless eyes flickering, murmured: "Sir Prince, Thou hast a harp. Hast thou no song to charm The light of lidless eyes?" And the King's Son, Mindful at once of many a fairy tale -- How Dragons all sleep under power of song -- And gathering all the passion of his dream In one wild harmony, his harp unslung, And sang across the midnight and the moon: "Day sinks down to rest: Softly falls the night; Star-fires glance and gleam On the river's breast, And the warm, low light Silvers into dream. "Let us drift and dream Here, and leave the rest, -- Earth is ours to-night: Shadow lulls the gleam, Gathering to her breast The lost rays of light. "While behind the light Of thine eyes, a dream Wakes, and will not rest, Yearning to unite Sundered fires that gleam Hidden in each breast; "And thy breathing breast Falters with delight, And our conquering dream, Crowned, trembles to rest In the arms of night Till the dawn shall gleam. "Oh, thy hair agleam Over brow and breast, And thine eyes alight -- Ah, to bid the dream Linger, and arrest The swift hours of night! "Therefore, while the night Gathers, and stars gleam, Dearest, on my breast Lay the burden light Of thy head, and dream.... Close thine eyes, and rest." And while he sang, the Princess curved herself Against the scaly body, one white arm Flung upward over the green crest, and leaned Her head thereon, with thrilled lips and closed eyes, Drinking the music. And the Dragon's breath Came softlier, and his wings dropped; and the flame In his red nostrils paled, and the sparks died Out of his eyes; and the gloom deepened, save For moonbeams glimmering through the icy wall. And as the last chord rang, trembling away, The coils fell loosened, and the lidless eyes Rolled upward. Then the Princess carefully Slipped from his side, rising, finger on lip, Where the King's Son awaited her. And he, Wondering to have won at length his quest After defeat, opened his arms to her And whispered: "Thou art mine now. Therefore come Home to my Father's kingdom." But she said, Shuddering, and looking down: "I dare not." She seemed Paler than he had seen her in his dream, And slighter. Nevertheless, his whole heart yearned For wonder of her beauty; and he caught Her hands, crying: "Have I not sung, and charmed The Dragon?" And she answered: "After all, He is my Dragon." And with that, the Prince, His dream shattering around him, and his heart Black with a horror beyond hope, cried out Heedlessly, taking no thought of his own voice: "Is there no truth in any fairy tale?" And with that word, the slumbering Dragon sprang Above them, breathing smoke and flame, his eyes Flaring blue levin, and his thunderous vans Volleying storm; and out of his red throat Screamed one white blast of fire that seared the ice To vapour, and the walls burst and the floors Fell, and the King's Son plunged headlong, far down Where a black river rushed beneath the ground As deep under the mountains as themselves Reared up their craggy heads from earth to sky; And the waters closed above him falling, and boiled Around him, and the flood bore him away. All night the White Cat, wandering alone Around the enchanted palace, waited in vain Her master; but at dawn crept carefully Forth to the lake, and where the palace of ice Had reared its glimmering walls under the moon, Saw only emptiness; and a black well Yawned in the ground, and from beneath there came A sound of rushing water. And full of fear Yet feeling his presence there, she leaped and clomb Downward, wherein her eyes, fitted for gloom Where men's eyes fail them, caught the light, and showed Vaults of black stone where a black flood rushed on Unending. Then along the bank she ran Swiftly through subterranean dens, and caves Lapped full of surging water, where the day Brought no light; till at last, lifted on waves And whirled on eddies, before her the King's Son Drifted, senseless and drowned. And at that sight, She raised a dolorous cry, and where the stream Set shoreward, leaped and caught his shoulder, and clung, Mewing. And the King's Son, hearing her cry, Half waked out of his swoon, and flung blind arms Round that which, floating on the flood, upbore His head above the water. Then, presently, Long lights gleamed from behind, and on broad vans Winnowing the gloom, with eyes that glanced on wall And water, and hot breath poisoning the air, Over their heads the scaly Dragon flew, Skimming the wave, and where the King's Son swam, Dipped like the purple-crested kingfisher, Snatching at him, and plunged his jaws that boiled The stream to vapour. Then against the roar Of flood and fire belled out a golden clang Before them, and the Golden Giant ran Leaping along the bank, or wading in Smote with his mace, and howled with laughter, and hurled Huge stones. And the King's Son, by the black glare Along the water, saw that the floating mass Whereby he held his head above the stream Was the white princess of his vision, dead And ghastly, her hair shining, and her eyes Glassily mirroring the Dragon's. Then He shrieked and thrust away; but as he sank The White Cat clinging on his shoulder cried Piteously; and he, past all desire Of his own life, yet lest by his own death The creature that alone had faith in him, Though helpless and unhelpful, should be slain, Clung again to the corpse, and swam, avoiding Dragon and Giant as he might. So they For hours beyond numbering drifted down The black stream through the dim cave; while above, The Dragon dived and clutched, and alongside The Golden Giant raged, and his dead dream Upheld him. And that horror turned his brain To madness, and through dreadful dreams he saw Dragon and Princess writhed in one foul coil Of white and green, Princess and Giant clasped In a golden flame of laughter, and all at once Mixed in a monstrous whirl of wings and eyes And limbs and colours; and he heard the hiss Of kisses, and the corpse whereto he clung Seemed now the raven Princess, now the Fair; And within both the vision of his dream Glimmered, and mocked him. Then the flame and roar Turned murmuring summer wind, and flush of dawn Over cool fields of billowy blossoms, fair With purl of brook and song of wakening bird, And breath of rain-washed woodland; then once more, Struggling back into sense, he saw again The lurid cavern and the murky flood, The Giant and the Dragon and the Dead, And the White Cat that on his shoulder clung -- Lit by uncanny fires and swept along Through glooms unending, down the unrestful stream. Slowly as one that from the house of death Bitterly escaping, swims through fires of pain And storms of fever, and black floods of sleep, Till at the last his soul, returning, clears Faint eyes, and with a dim wonder he sees The strange walls of his own remembered room, Where the gray day, through curtains closely drawn Sickens the lamplight, and the house is still -- Even so the King's Son, gathering his soul And opening weary eyes, gazed listlessly Wondering at the strange remembered shores Of his own country. Over him the hills Paled through a mist. Behind him, the wan sea, Laden with heavy clouds too dull for storm, Plashed, and surged slowly. In front, the sallow fields Ran fading into fog, streaked with late snow And spongy ice; and leafless trees held up A net of nakedness before the sky; And the air chilled without frost, and fine rain Fell without wind, freezing; and the whole land Barren and brown with desolation, lay Sick for the end of Winter. The King's Son Rose, shivering, and the White Cat, that had lain Close to his breast for warmth, slipped with a snarl, And found her feet, and yawned and spread her claws Shaking the wet mist from her feathery fur, And limped beside him. They went inland, mired In sodden ruts and heaps of leaden snow, Through the chill rain, under the darkening sky, Where light glowed in a cottage window. There The King's Son, entering, called for food and fire And messengers; but the goodman, amazed At the strange figure strangely attended, railed Upon him for a madman, and thrust him forth. And the King's Son cursed him, and went his way, The White Cat following, where along the road A troop of soldiers passed, with clash of steel And creak of saddle, splashing the mire, and sang Merrily as they went a bawdy song; Who, when the King's Son asked whither his way Led to the Palace, beat their thighs and blew Glad oaths and laughter, crying: "The Palace! He seeks The Palace! He -- the Palace!" And rode on. And the King's son cursed them and went his way, The White Cat following, where a crowd of boys Ran homeward, shouting shrilly, and pushed each other Into the mire, and hurled wet clods of snow Laughing; but when the King's Son spoke to them, Huddled and whispered together, pointing, and then Ran past, and huddled again beyond him, and there Pointed and whispered. But the White Cat ran Before him up a hill, and snuffed the air, Looked back and called, and ran, and paused again; And the King's Son, wondering, followed her Up a long slope, over the ridge, and thence Through mire and snow and chill rain sifting down Out of the darkening sky, and stood amazed, Recognizing the place of his own home; But where warm lights had burned and tall towers frowned Saw only desolation, tottering walls Unroofed, columns discrowned, and rafters gnawed Naked by fire, and frozen heaps of stone -- Black ruin. And he drew near, and sat down Stunned. And the White Cat, creeping to his breast For warmth, shivered, and the rain fell. At length, He rose, and over an angle of the wall Yet standing, dragged loose timbers and dead vines For shelter. And the White Cat, creeping in Nestled close, and the gray lights darkened. Then, Numb beyond any sorrow, the King's Son Looked back over his life, unravelling all His failure, seeing how his dream was vain: How joy hides from desire, and sleep evades Weariness, while the accursed bathe in bliss, And over hell hang the glad gates of heaven; And gathering dreary madness, lifted up His voice, tunelessly, and while cold winds wove Weird counterpoint above the melody, He sang across the winter and the storm: "Summer now is done, Leaf and blossom gone -- Faded, every one: "All her lights withdrawn, And the dreams of night And the hopes of dawn. "Wherefore shall I fight? I have won and lost All the world's delight, "And have paid the cost. Will the storm deprive Winter of her frost? "Wherefore shall I strive? Neither prize to win, Joy to keep alive, "Nor the taste of sin Beckons me to prove What may lie therein. "Wherefore shall I love? I have known the shames And the shifts thereof: "How her faiths and flames Are but hollow lust Called by sounding names. "Honour, pride, and trust Turn upon my tongue Into shards and dust; "All the dice are flung, All the tales are told, All the songs are sung -- "Give me, being old, Peace from pangs begun, Shelter from the cold, Shadow from the sun -- Summer now is done." And as the song closed, the White Cat, that slept Against him, woke hissing, and struggled free, Bristled and growled, with emerald eyes that glared Wildly upon him, then leaped forth, and fled Into the dusk, and vanished. And the King's Son, Wondering what last horror had changed him so To fright the creature, raised the dingy glass That hung still from his girdle, and therein Saw not himself but that which had been he, Starting upon his journey; and by his side, Beautiful as the memory of a dream And sweet as hope, watching him with glad eyes, The Princess. Day and night shadowed and shone Across the magic mirror; and through all, The vision of his dream following him Over the mountains and the sea, beyond The gates of Faery, over the meadows of dawn, Through the pale mist, across the moon-swept hills, And down the underground river, all the while Guarding and guiding when he knew it not, Even to that hour. And while he gazed, between Memory and vision, suddenly a light fell Across him, and a sharp fragrance, and there, Lovelier than he had seen her in his dream, Stood his own Princess out of Fairyland Alive before him. Her eyes were like the dawn; Her hair was like the twilight; and she moved Like music over water. And the King's Son Gazing upon her, felt his whole heart break For wonder and great love. Nevertheless, Mindful how he had failed upon the quest For want of understanding, and of the truth Under the heart of every fairy tale -- That every quest is but a coming home -- And sorrowing for his last friend gone from him, Said wearily: "I know now. Thou hast come When all that should be thine dries out of me: Why not while I was worthy?" And she said Softly: "How could I?" And with that, the Prince Forlorn of all that had been spoiled in him -- Age, and gray hairs, his kingdom gone, his dream Dried into dust, his power wasted away -- And shaming that such beauty should be bound Save unto strength and freshness like her own, Answered: "I have grown old now, having seen How joy hides from desire to dog the steps Of languor. I have sought my dream, and lost The power of dreaming. What life I have left Thou hast saved. My thanks therefore; and ... farewell." While he had spoken, she with narrowing eyes And arms bent inward on her bosom, looked Elsewhere. At last she said: "Thou hast no gift To give me. I ask nothing. Is there none Thou wilt receive?" And the Prince answered: "One -- One friend, no dream, that stood with me through all; That could not help, but would not hide from me; Helpless, but would not fear. Now, if thou be Truly a princess out of Fairyland, Find her." Thereat the Princess with one cry, Half purr, half laughter, sprang to him, and back From her white throat the furry mantle flung, And locked her arms about him, and on his heart Hid her face, and sighed happily, and lay still. And the King's Son held her, speaking no word; Knowing in her warm breast all fires that burn By happy hearths, and in her dusk of hair The breath of all the roses of the earth, And in her eyes the wonder of all dawns From the beginning of the world. And while They clung together, trembling, a sweet wind Blew suddenly out of the blossomy South, Full of a nameless joy; and the gray snows Bloomed, and the darkness brightened, and the clouds Parted, and over Winter brake the Spring. |