Works of Edwin Arlington Robinson

by Edwin Arlington Robinson

  “Why do you fling those two names in my face?

  ’Twas Modred made an end of Lamorak, 2165

  Not I; and Lancelot now has done for Tor.

  I’ll urge no king on after Lancelot

  For such a two as Tor and Lamorak:

  Their father killed my father, and their friend

  Was Lancelot, not I. I’ll own my fault — 2170

  I’m living; and while I’ve a tongue can talk,

  I’ll say this to the King: ‘Burn Lancelot

  By inches till he give you back the Queen;

  Then hang him — drown him — or do anything

  To rid the world of him.’ He killed my brothers, 2175

  And he was once my friend: Now damn the soul

  Of him who killed my brothers! There you have me.”

  “You are a strong man, Gawaine, and your strength

  Goes ill where foes are. You may cleave their limbs

  And heads off, but you cannot damn their souls; 2180

  What you may do now is to save their souls,

  And bodies too, and like enough your own.

  Remember that King Arthur is a king,

  And where there is a king there is a kingdom.

  Is not the kingdom any more to you 2185

  Than one brief enemy? Would you see it fall

  And the King with it, for one mortal hate

  That burns out reason? Gawaine, you are king

  Today. Another day may see no king

  But Havoc, if you have no other word 2190

  For Arthur now than hate for Lancelot.

  Is not the world as large as Lancelot?

  Is Lancelot, because one woman’s eyes

  Are brighter when they look on him, to sluice

  The world with angry blood? Poor flesh! Poor flesh! 2195

  And you, Gawaine, — are you so gaffed with hate

  You cannot leave it and so plunge away

  To stiller places and there see, for once,

  What hangs on this pernicious expedition

  The King in his insane forgetfulness 2200

  Would undertake — with you to drum him on?

  Are you as mad as he and Lancelot

  Made ravening into one man twice as mad

  As either? Is the kingdom of the world,

  Now rocking, to go down in sound and blood 2205

  And ashes and sick ruin, and for the sake

  Of three men and a woman? If it be so,

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

  And say again to Dagonet. Sir Fool,

  Your throne is empty, and you may as well 2210

  Sit on it and be ruler of the world

  From now till supper-time.”

  Sir Dagonet,

  Appearing, made reply to Bedivere’s

  Dry welcome with a famished look of pain, 2215

  On which he built a smile: “If I were King,

  You, Bedivere, should be my counsellor;

  And we should have no more wars over women.

  I’ll sit me down and meditate on that.”

  Gawaine, for all his anger, laughed a little, 2220

  And clapped the fool’s lean shoulder; for he loved him

  And was with Arthur when he made him knight.

  Then Dagonet said on to Bedivere,

  As if his tongue would make a jest of sorrow:

  “Sometime I’ll tell you what I might have done 2225

  Had I been Lancelot and you King Arthur —

  Each having in himself the vicious essence

  That now lives in the other and makes war.

  When all men are like you and me, my lord,

  When all are rational or rickety, 2230

  There may be no more war. But what’s here now?

  Lancelot loves the Queen, and he makes war

  Of love; the King, being bitten to the soul

  By love and hate that work in him together,

  Makes war of madness; Gawaine hates Lancelot, 2235

  And he, to be in tune, makes war of hate;

  Modred hates everything, yet he can see

  With one damned illegitimate small eye

  His father’s crown, and with another like it

  He sees the beauty of the Queen herself; 2240

  He needs the two for his ambitious pleasure,

  And therefore he makes war of his ambition;

  And somewhere in the middle of all this

  There’s a squeezed world that elbows for attention.

  Poor Merlin, buried in Broceliande! 2245

  He must have had an academic eye

  For woman when he founded Arthur’s kingdom,

  And in Broceliande he may be sorry.

  Flutes, hautboys, drums, and viols. God be with him!

  I’m glad they tell me there’s another world, 2250

  For this one’s a disease without a doctor.”

  “No, not so bad as that,” said Bedivere;

  The doctor, like ourselves, may now be learning;

  And Merlin may have gauged his enterprise

  Whatever the cost he may have paid for knowing. 2255

  We pass, but many are to follow us,

  And what they build may stay; though I believe

  Another age will have another Merlin,

  Another Camelot, and another King.

  Sir Dagonet, farewell.” 2260

  “Farewell, Sir Knight,

  And you, Sir Knight: Gawaine, you have the world

  Now in your fingers — an uncommon toy,

  Albeit a small persuasion in the balance

  With one man’s hate. I’m glad you’re not a fool, 2265

  For then you might be rickety, as I am,

  And rational as Bedivere. Farewell.

  I’ll sit here and be king. God save the King!”

  But Gawaine scowled and frowned and answered nothing

  As he went slowly down with Bedivere 2270

  To Camelot, where Arthur’s army waited

  The King’s word for the melancholy march

  To Joyous Gard, where Lancelot hid the Queen

  And armed his host, and there was now no joy,

  As there was now no joy for Dagonet 2275

  While he sat brooding, with his wan cheek-bones

  Hooked with his bony fingers: “Go, Gawaine,”

  He mumbled: “Go your way, and drag the world

  Along down with you. What’s a world or so

  To you if you can hide an ell of iron 2280

  Somewhere in Lancelot, and hear him wheeze

  And sputter once or twice before he goes

  Wherever the Queen sends him? There’s a man

  Who should have been a king, and would have been,

  Had he been born so. So should I have been 2285

  A king, had I been born so, fool or no:

  King Dagonet, or Dagonet the King;

  King-Fool, Fool-King; ‘twere not impossible.

  I’ll meditate on that and pray for Arthur,

  Who made me all I am, except a fool. 2290

  Now he goes mad for love, as I might go

  Had I been born a king and not a fool.

  Today I think I’d rather be a fool;

  Today the world is less than one scared woman —

  Wherefore a field of waving men may soon 2295

  Be shorn by Time’s indifferent scythe, because

  The King is mad. The seeds of history

  Are small, but given a few gouts of warm blood

  For quickening, they sprout out wondrously

  And have a leaping growth whereof no man 2300

  May shun such harvesting of change or death,

  Or life, as may fall on him to be borne

  When I am still alive and rickety,

  And Bedivere’s alive and rational —

  If he come out of this, and there’s a doubt, — 2305

  The King, Gawaine, Modred, and Lancelot

  May all be lying unde
rneath a weight

  Of bloody sheaves too heavy for their shoulders

  All spent, and all dishonored, and all dead;

  And if it come to be that this be so, 2310

  And it be true that Merlin saw the truth,

  Such harvest were the best. Your fool sees not

  So far as Merlin sees: yet if he saw

  The truth — why then, such harvest were the best.

  I’ll pray for Arthur; I can do no more. 2315

  “Why not for Merlin? Or do you count him,

  In this extreme, so foreign to salvation

  That prayer would be a stranger to his name?”

  Poor Dagonet, with terror shaking him,

  Stood up and saw before him an old face 2320

  Made older with an inch of silver beard,

  And faced eyes more eloquent of pain

  And ruin than all the faded eyes of age

  Till now had ever been, although in them

  There was a mystic and intrinsic peace 2325

  Of one who sees where men of nearer sight

  See nothing. On their way to Camelot,

  Gawaine and Bedivere had passed him by,

  With lax attention for the pilgrim cloak

  They passed, and what it hid: yet Merlin saw 2330

  Their faces, and he saw the tale was true

  That he had lately drawn from solemn strangers.

  “Well, Dagonet, and by your leave,” he said,

  “I’ll rest my lonely relics for a while

  On this rock that was mine and now is yours. 2335

  I favor the succession; for you know

  Far more than many doctors, though your doubt

  Is your peculiar poison. I foresaw

  Long since, and I have latterly been told

  What moves in this commotion down below 2340

  To show men what it means. It means the end —

  If men whose tongues had less to say to me

  Than had their shoulders are adept enough

  To know; and you may pray for me or not,

  Sir Friend, Sir Dagonet.” 2345

  “Sir fool, you mean,”

  Dagonet said, and gazed on Merlin sadly:

  “I’ll never pray again for anything,

  And last of all for this that you behold —

  The smouldering faggot of unlovely bones 2350

  That God has given to me to call Myself.

  When Merlin comes to Dagonet for prayer,

  It is indeed the end.”

  “And in the end

  Are more beginnings, Dagonet, than men 2355

  Shall name or know today. It was the end

  Of Arthur’s insubstantial majesty

  When to him and his knights the Grail foreshowed

  The quest of life that was to be the death

  Of many, and the slow discouraging 2360

  Of many more. Or do I err in this?”

  “No,” Dagonet replied; “there was a Light;

  And Galahad, in the Siege Perilous,

  Alone of all on whom it fell, was calm;

  There was a Light wherein men saw themselves 2365

  In one another as they might become —

  Or so they dreamed. There was a long to-do,

  And Gawaine, of all forlorn ineligibles,

  Rose up the first, and cried more lustily

  Than any after him that he should find 2370

  The Grail, or die for it, — though he did neither;

  For he came back as living and as fit

  For new and old iniquity as ever.

  Then Lancelot came back, and Bors came back, —

  Like men who had seen more than men should see, 2375

  And still come back. They told of Percival

  Who saw too much to make of this worn life

  A long necessity, and of Galahad,

  Who died and is alive. They all saw Something.

  God knows the meaning or the end of it, 2380

  But they saw Something. And if I’ve an eye,

  Small joy has the Queen been to Lancelot

  Since he came back from seeing what he saw;

  For though his passion hold him like hot claws,

  He’s neither in the world nor out of it. 2385

  Gawaine is king, though Arthur wears the crown;

  And Gawaine’s hate for Lancelot is the sword

  That hangs by one of Merlin’s fragile hairs

  Above the world. Were you to see the King,

  The frenzy that has overthrown his wisdom, 2390

  Instead of him and his upheaving empire,

  Might have an end.”

  “I came to see the King,”

  Said Merlin, like a man who labors hard

  And long with an importunate confession. 2395

  “No, Dagonet, you cannot tell me why,

  Although your tongue is eager with wild hope

  To tell me more than I may tell myself

  About myself. All this that was to be

  Might show to man how vain it were to wreck 2400

  The world for self if it were all in vain.

  When I began with Arthur I could see

  In each bewildered man who dots the earth

  A moment with his days a groping thought

  Of an eternal will, strangely endowed 2405

  With merciful illusions whereby self

  Becomes the will itself and each man swells

  In fond accordance with his agency.

  Now Arthur, Modred, Lancelot, and Gawaine

  Are swollen thoughts of this eternal will 2410

  Which have no other way to find the way

  That leads them on to their inheritance

  Than by the time-infuriating flame

  Of a wrecked empire, lighted by the torch

  Of woman, who, together with the light 2415

  That Galahad found, is yet to light the world.”

  A wan smile crept across the weary face

  Of Dagonet the fool: “If you knew that

  Before your burial in Broceliande,

  No wonder your eternal will accords 2420

  With all your dreams of what the world requires.

  My master, I may say this unto you

  Because I am a fool, and fear no man;

  My fear is that I’ve been a groping thought

  That never swelled enough. You say the torch 2425

  Of woman and the light that Galahad found

  Are some day to illuminate the world?

  I’ll meditate on that. The world is done

  For me; and I have been, to make men laugh,

  A lean thing of no shape and many capers. 2430

  I made them laugh, and I could laugh anon

  Myself to see them killing one another

  Because a woman with corn-colored hair

  Has pranked a man with horns. ’Twas but a flash

  Of chance, and Lancelot, the other day 2435

  That saved this pleasing sinner from the fire

  That she may spread for thousands. Were she now

  The cinder the King willed, or were you now

  To see the King, the fire might yet go out;

  But the eternal will says otherwise. 2440

  So be it; I’ll assemble certain gold

  That I may say is mine and get myself

  Away from this accurst unhappy court,

  And in some quiet place where shepherd clowns

  And cowherds may have more respondent ears 2445

  Than kings and kingdom-builders, I shall troll

  Old men to easy graves and be a child

  Again among the children of the earth.

  I’ll have no more kings, even though I loved

  King Arthur, who is mad, as I could love 2450

  No other man save Merlin, who is dead.”

  “Not wholly dead, but old. Merlin is old.”

  The wizard shivered as he spoke, and stared

  Away into the su
nset where he saw

  Once more, as through a cracked and cloudy glass, 2455

  A crumbling sky that held a crimson cloud

  Wherein there was a town of many towers

  All swayed and shaken, in a woman’s hand

  This time, till out of it there spilled and flashed

  And tumbled, like loose jewels, town, towers, and walls, 2460

  And there was nothing but a crumbling sky

  That made anon of black and red and ruin

  A wild and final rain on Camelot.

  He bowed, and pressed his eyes: “Now by my soul,

  I have seen this before — all black and red — 2465

  Like that — like that — like Vivian — black and red;

  Like Vivian, when her eyes looked into mine

  Across the cups of gold. A flute was playing —

  Then all was black and red.”

  Another smile 2470

  Crept over the wan face of Dagonet,

  Who shivered in his turn. “The torch of woman”

  He muttered, “and the light that Galahad found,

  Will some day save us all, as they saved Merlin.

  Forgive my shivering wits, but I am cold, 2475

  And it will soon be dark. Will you go down

  With me to see the King, or will you not?

  If not, I go tomorrow to the shepherds.

  The world is mad, and I’m a groping thought

  Of your eternal will; the world and I 2480

  Are strangers, and I’ll have no more of it —

  Except you go with me to see the King.”

  “No, Dagonet, you cannot leave me now,”

  Said Merlin, sadly. “You and I are old;

  And, as you say, we fear no man. God knows 2485

  I would not have the love that once you had

  For me be fear of me, for I am past

  All fearing now. But Fate may send a fly

  Sometimes, and he may sting us to the grave.

  So driven to test our faith in what we see. 2490

  Are you, now I am coming to an end,

  As Arthur’s days are coming to an end,

  To sting me like a fly? I do not ask

  Of you to say that you see what I see,

  Where you see nothing; nor do I require 2495

  Of any man more vision than is his;

  Yet I could wish for you a larger part

  For your last entrance here than this you play

  Tonight of a sad insect stinging Merlin.

  The more you sting, the more he pities you; 2500

  And you were never overfond of pity.

  Had you been so, I doubt if Arthur’s love,

  Or Gawaine’s, would have made of you a knight.

  No, Dagonet, you cannot leave me now,