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Works of Edwin Arlington Robinson

Page 27

by Edwin Arlington Robinson


  “Why all this new insistence upon sin?”

  She said; “I wonder if I understand

  This king of yours, with all his pits and dragons; 1830

  I know I do not like him.” A thinner light

  Was in her eyes than he had found in them

  Since he became the willing prisoner

  That she had made of him; and on her mouth

  Lay now a colder line of irony 1835

  Than all his fears or nightmares could have drawn

  Before today: “What reason do you know

  For me to listen to this king of yours?

  What reading has a man of woman’s days,

  Even though the man be Merlin and a prophet?” 1840

  “I know no call for you to love the king,”

  Said Merlin, driven ruinously along

  By the vindictive urging of his fate;

  “I know no call for you to love the king,

  Although you serve him, knowing not yet the king 1845

  You serve. There is no man, or any woman,

  For whom the story of the living king

  Is not the story of the living sin.

  I thought my story was the common one,

  For common recognition and regard.” 1850

  “Then let us have no more of it,” she said;

  “For we are not so common, I believe,

  That we need kings and pits and flags and dragons

  To make us know that we have let the world

  Go by us. Have you missed the world so much 1855

  That you must have it in with all its clots

  And wounds and bristles on to make us happy —

  Like Blaise, with shouts and horns and seven men

  Triumphant with a most unlovely boar?

  Is there no other story in the world 1860

  Than this one of a man that you made king

  To be a moral for the speckled ages?

  You said once long ago, if you remember,

  ‘You are too strange a lady to fear specks’;

  And it was you, you said, who feared them not. 1865

  Why do you look at me as at a snake

  All coiled to spring at you and strike you dead?

  I am not going to spring at you, or bite you;

  I’m going home. And you, if you are kind,

  Will have no fear to wander for an hour. 1870

  I’m sure the time has come for you to wander;

  And there may come a time for you to say

  What most you think it is that we need here

  To make of this Broceliande a refuge

  Where two disheartened sinners may forget 1875

  A world that has today no place for them.”

  A melancholy wave of revelation

  Broke over Merlin like a rising sea,

  Long viewed unwillingly and long denied.

  He saw what he had seen, but would not feel, 1880

  Till now the bitterness of what he felt

  Was in his throat, and all the coldness of it

  Was on him and around him like a flood

  Of lonelier memories than he had said

  Were memories, although he knew them now 1885

  For what they were — for what this eyes had seen,

  For what his ears had heard and what his heart

  Had felt, with him not knowing what it felt.

  But now he knew that his cold angel’s name

  Was Change, and that a mightier will than his 1890

  Or Vivian’s had ordained that he be there.

  To Vivian he could not say anything

  But words that had no more of hope in them

  Than anguish had of peace: “I meant the world …

  I meant the world,” he groaned; “not you — not me.” 1895

  Again the frozen line of irony

  Was on her mouth. He looked up once at it.

  And then away — too fearful of her eyes

  To see what he could hear now in her laugh

  That melted slowly into what she said, 1900

  Like snow in icy water: “This world of yours

  Will surely be the end of us. And why not?

  I’m overmuch afraid we’re part of it, —

  Or why do we build walls up all around us,

  With gates of iron that make us think the day 1905

  Of judgment’s coming when they clang behind us?

  And yet you tell me that you fear no specks!

  With you I never cared for them enough

  To think of them. I was too strange a lady.

  And your return is now a speckled king 1910

  And something that you call a living sin —

  That’s like an uninvited poor relation

  Who comes without a welcome, rather late,

  And on a foundered horse.”

  “Specks? What are specks?” 1915

  He gazed at her in a forlorn wonderment

  That made her say: “You said, ‘I fear them not.’

  ‘If I were king in Camelot,’ you said,

  ‘I might fear more than specks.’ Have you forgotten?

  Don’t tell me, Merlin, you are growing old. 1920

  Why don’t you make somehow a queen of me,

  And give me half the world? I’d wager thrushes

  That I should reign, with you to turn the wheel,

  As well as any king that ever was.

  The curse on me is that I cannot serve 1925

  A ruler who forgets that he is king.”

  In this bewildered misery Merlin then

  Stared hard at Vivian’s face, more like a slave

  Who sought for common mercy than like Merlin:

  “You speak a language that was never mine, 1930

  Or I have lost my wits. Why do you seize

  The flimsiest of opportunities

  To make of what I said another thing

  Than love or reason could have let me say,

  Or let me fancy? Why do you keep the truth 1935

  So far away from me, when all your gates

  Will open at your word and let me go

  To some place where no fear or weariness

  Of yours need ever dwell? Why does a woman,

  Made otherwise a miracle of love 1940

  And loveliness, and of immortal beauty,

  Tear one word by the roots out of a thousand,

  And worry it, and torture it, and shake it,

  Like a small dog that has a rag to play with?

  What coil of an ingenious destiny 1945

  Is this that makes of what I never meant

  A meaning as remote as hell from heaven?”

  “I don’t know,” Vivian said reluctantly,

  And half as if in pain; “I’m going home.

  I’m going home and leave you here to wander, 1950

  Pray take your kings and sins away somewhere

  And bury them, and bury the Queen in also.

  I know this king; he lives in Camelot,

  And I shall never like him. There are specks

  Almost all over him. Long live the king, 1955

  But not the king who lives in Camelot,

  With Modred, Lancelot, and Guinevere —

  And all four speckled like a merry nest

  Of addled eggs together. You made him King

  Because you loved the world and saw in him 1960

  From infancy a mirror for the millions.

  The world will see itself in him, and then

  The world will say its prayers and wash its face,

  And build for some new king a new foundation.

  Long live the King! … But now I apprehend 1965

  A time for me to shudder and grow old

  And garrulous — and so become a fright

  For Blaise to take out walking in warm weather —

  Should I give way to long considering

  Of worlds you may have lost while prisoned here 1970

  With me and
my light mind. I contemplate

  Another name for this forbidden place,

  And one more fitting. Tell me, if you find it,

  Some fitter name than Eden. We have had

  A man and woman in it for some time, 1975

  And now, it seems, we have a Tree of Knowledge.”

  She looked up at the branches overhead

  And shrugged her shoulders. Then she went away;

  And what was left of Merlin’s happiness,

  Like a disloyal phantom, followed her. 1980

  He felt the sword of his cold angel thrust

  And twisted in his heart, as if the end

  Were coming next, but the cold angel passed

  Invisibly and left him desolate,

  With misty brow and eyes. “The man who sees 1985

  May see too far, and he may see too late

  The path he takes unseen,” he told himself

  When he found thought again. “The man who sees

  May go on seeing till the immortal flame

  That lights and lures him folds him in its heart, 1990

  And leaves of what there was of him to die

  An item of inhospitable dust

  That love and hate alike must hide away;

  Or there may still be charted for his feet

  A dimmer faring, where the touch of time 1995

  Were like the passing of a twilight moth

  From flower to flower into oblivion,

  If there were not somewhere a barren end

  Of moths and flowers, and glimmering far away

  Beyond a desert where the flowerless days 2000

  Are told in slow defeats and agonies,

  The guiding of a nameless light that once

  Had made him see too much — and has by now

  Revealed in death, to the undying child

  Of Lancelot, the Grail. For this pure light 2005

  Has many rays to throw, for many men

  To follow; and the wise are not all pure,

  Nor are the pure all wise who follow it.

  There are more rays than men. But let the man

  Who saw too much, and was to drive himself 2010

  From paradise, play too lightly or too long

  Among the moths and flowers, he finds at last

  There is a dim way out; and he shall grope

  Where pleasant shadows lead him to the plain

  That has no shadow save his own behind him. 2015

  And there, with no complaint, nor much regret,

  Shall he plod on, with death between him now

  And the far light that guides him, till he falls

  And has an empty thought of empty rest;

  Then Fate will put a mattock in his hands 2020

  And lash him while he digs himself the grave

  That is to be the pallet and the shroud

  Of his poor blundering bones. The man who saw

  Too much must have an eye to see at last

  Where Fate has marked the clay; and he shall delve, 2025

  Although his hand may slacken, and his knees

  May rock without a method as he toils;

  For there’s a delving that is to be done —

  If not for God, for man. I see the light,

  But I shall fall before I come to it; 2030

  For I am old. I was young yesterday.

  Time’s hand that I have held away so long

  Grips hard now on my shoulder. Time has won.

  Tomorrow I shall say to Vivian

  That I am old and gaunt and garrulous, 2035

  And tell her one more story: I am old.”

  There were long hours for Merlin after that,

  And much long wandering in his prison-yard,

  Where now the progress of each heavy step

  Confirmed a stillness of impending change 2040

  And imminent farewell. To Vivian’s ear

  There came for many days no other story

  Than Merlin’s iteration of his love

  And his departure from Broceliande,

  Where Merlin still remained. In Vivian’s eye, 2045

  There was a quiet kindness, and at times

  A smoky flash of incredulity

  That faded into pain. Was this the Merlin —

  This incarnation of idolatry

  And all but supplicating deference — 2050

  This bowed and reverential contradiction

  Of all her dreams and her realities —

  Was this the Merlin who for years and years

  Before she found him had so made her love him

  That kings and princes, thrones and diadems, 2055

  And honorable men who drowned themselves

  For love, were less to her than melon-shells?

  Was this the Merlin whom her fate had sent

  One spring day to come ringing at her gate,

  Bewildering her love with happy terror 2060

  That later was to be all happiness?

  Was this the Merlin who had made the world

  Half over, and then left it with a laugh

  To be the youngest, oldest, weirdest, gayest,

  And wisest, and sometimes the foolishest 2065

  Of all the men of her consideration?

  Was this the man who had made other men

  As ordinary as arithmetic?

  Was this man Merlin who came now so slowly

  Towards the fountain where she stood again 2070

  In shimmering green? Trembling, he took her hands

  And pressed them fondly, one upon the other,

  Between his:

  “I was wrong that other day,

  For I have one more story. I am old.” 2075

  He waited like one hungry for the word

  Not said; and she found in his eyes a light

  As patient as a candle in a window

  That looks upon the sea and is a mark

  For ships that have gone down. “Tomorrow,” he said; 2080

  “Tomorrow I shall go away again

  To Camelot; and I shall see the King

  Once more; and I may come to you again

  Once more; and I shall go away again

  For ever. There is now no more than that 2085

  For me to do; and I shall do no more.

  I saw too much when I saw Camelot;

  And I saw farther backward into Time,

  And forward, than a man may see and live,

  When I made Arthur king. I saw too far, 2090

  But not so far as this. Fate played with me

  As I have played with Time; and Time, like me,

  Being less than Fate, will have on me his vengeance.

  On Fate there is no vengeance, even for God.”

  He drew her slowly into his embrace 2095

  And held her there, but when he kissed her lips

  They were as cold as leaves and had no answer;

  For Time had given him then, to prove his words,

  A frozen moment of a woman’s life.

  When Merlin the next morning came again 2100

  In the same pilgrim robe that he had worn

  While he sat waiting where the cherry-blossoms

  Outside the gate fell on him and around him

  Grief came to Vivian at the sight of him;

  And like a flash of a swift ugly knife, 2105

  A blinding fear came with it. “Are you going?”

  She said, more with her lips than with her voice;

  And he said, “I am going. Blaise and I

  Are going down together to the shore,

  And Blaise is coming back. For this one day 2110

  Be good enough to spare him, for I like him.

  I tell you now, as once I told the King,

  That I can be no more than what I was,

  And I can say no more than I have said.

  Sometimes you told me that I spoke too long 2115

  And sent me off to wander. That was good.

 
I go now for another wandering,

  And I pray God that all be well with you.”

  For long there was a whining in her ears

  Of distant wheels departing. When it ceased, 2120

  She closed the gate again so quietly

  That Merlin could have heard no sound of it.

  Merlin VII

  BY Merlin’s Rock, where Dagonet the fool

  Was given through many a dying afternoon

  To sit and meditate on human ways 2125

  And ways divine, Gawaine and Bedivere

  Stood silent, gazing down on Camelot.

  The two had risen and were going home:

  “It hits me sore, Gawaine,” said Bedivere,

  “To think on all the tumult and affliction 2130

  Down there, and all the noise and preparation

  That hums of coming death, and, if my fears

  Be born of reason, of what’s more than death.

  Wherefore, I say to you again, Gawaine, —

  To you — that this late hour is not too late 2135

  For you to change yourself and change the King:

  For though the King may love me with a love

  More tried, and older, and more sure, may be,

  Than for another, for such a time as this

  The friend who turns him to the world again 2140

  Shall have a tongue more gracious and an eye

  More shrewd than mine. For such a time as this

  The King must have a glamour to persuade him.”

  “The King shall have a glamour, and anon,”

  Gawaine said, and he shot death from his eyes; 2145

  “If you were King, as Arthur is — or was —

  And Lancelot had carried off your Queen,

  And killed a score or so of your best knights —

  Not mentioning my two brothers, whom he slew

  Unarmored and unarmed — God save your wits! 2150

  Two stewards with skewers could have done as much,

  And you and I might now be rotting for it.”

  “But Lancelot’s men were crowded, — they were crushed;

  And there was nothing for them but to strike

  Or die, not seeing where they struck. Think you 2155

  They would have slain Gareth and Gaheris,

  And Tor, and all those other friends of theirs?

  God’s mercy for the world he made, I say,

  And for the blood that writes the story of it.

  Gareth and Gaheris, Tor and Lamorak, — 2160

  All dead, with all the others that are dead!

  These years have made me turn to Lamorak

  For counsel — and now Lamorak is dead.”

 

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