Hearken yet:—­for a long time no more I beheld her
Till a month agone now at the ending of Maytide;
And then in the first of the morning I found me
Fulfilled of all joy at the edge of the yew-wood;
Then lo, her gown’s flutter in the fresh breeze of morning,
And slower and statelier than her wont was aforetime
And fairer of form toward the yew-wood she wended. 
But woe’s me! as she came and at last was beside me
With sobbing scarce ended her bosom was heaving,
Stained with tears was her face, and her mouth was yet quivering
With torment of weeping held back for a season. 
Then swiftly my spirit to the King’s bed was wafted
While still toward the sea were her weary feet wending. 
—­Ah surely that day of all wrongs that I hearkened
Mine own wrongs seemed heaviest and hardest to bear—­
Mine own wrongs and hers—­till that past year of ruling
Seemed a crime and a folly.  Night came, and I saw her
Stealing barefoot, bareheaded amidst of the tulips
Made grey by the moonlight:  and a long time Love gave me
To gaze on her weeping—­morn came, and I wakened—­
I wakened and said:  Through the World will I wander,
Till either I find her, or find the World empty.

MASTER OLIVER

Yea, son, wilt thou go?  Ah thou knowest from of old time
My words might not stay thee from aught thou wert willing;
And e’en so it must be now.  And yet hast thou asked me
To go with thee, son, if aught I might help thee?—­
Ah me, if thy face might gladden a little
I should meet the world better and mock at its mocking: 
If thou goest to find her, why then hath there fallen
This heaviness on thee? is thy heart waxen feeble?

KING PHARAMOND

O friend, I have seen her no more, and her mourning
Is alone and unhelped—­yet to-night or to-morrow
Somewhat nigher will I be to her love and her longing. 
Lo, to thee, friend, alone of all folk on the earth
These things have I told:  for a true man I deem thee
Beyond all men call true; yea, a wise man moreover
And hardy and helpful; and I know thy heart surely
That thou holdest the world nought without me thy fosterling. 
Come, leave all awhile! it may be as time weareth
With new life in our hands we shall wend us back hither.

MASTER OLIVER

Yea; triumph turns trouble, and all the world changeth,
Yet a good world it is since we twain are together.

KING PHARAMOND

Lo, have I not said it?—­thou art kinder than all men. 
Cast about then, I pray thee, to find us a keel
Sailing who recketh whither, since the world is so wide. 
Sure the northlands shall know of the blessings she bringeth,
And the southlands be singing of the tales that foretold her.