Now it was bitter to be quite outcast,
And bitter—when this thought of dying crost
Her heart—to reach him no more at the last
Than in mere rumour, as of one long lost.
She looked upon the great sea rolled between
Herself and Lacedæmon: but the Past,
The sins and all the falseness that had been
Seemed like an ocean deeper and more vast.
VII.
A TROTH FOR ETERNITY.
—SO, Woman! I possess you. Yes, at length.
Once wholly and for ever you are mine!
That cursèd burden on my memory,
Your whole past life’s betrayal—let it go:
Ay, let it perish, and, for me at least,
Let life begin this moment, though we die
But three hours hence!
Is this your little voice
My Love, enthralling, winning my whole faith
With mere increasing sweetness in its tones,
Dissolving, exorcising, as it used,
Ah too infallibly, the phantom thing,
The doubt, the dread within me? ah, my Sweet,
Is this once more your voice assuring me—
With some rare music rather than one word
Of those fair whispered oaths of constancy;
Yea, till, as ever, I am come to smile
And glory in you, and believe you pure—
All mine, for ever, past a change in thought?
But no! It is the little voice of the Steel
Here safe against my breast and fairly hid:
The Steel is singing to me, very low,
A tender song entrancing me;—O joy!
The Steel says you will ne’er escape me more;
You will be true to me; you will be mine;
No man shall touch you after me; no face,
However strangely fair, shall have the art
To draw one look from you, to charm and rouse
That wondrous little snake of treachery
That was for ever lurking for me—sure
To spring upon me out of the least look
Or promise, safe to be curled up beneath
The simplest seeming offering in your hand.
Yes, ’tis a thing at length as good as this
The steel is singing to me: did you hear,
You should but love it—since it pleads so well
It makes me put whole faith in you once more.
For now three days and nights indeed—while I,
Contending for you with the love I gave
Against the curse I owed you, raged and thought
It was my madness—O this little voice
Was striving with me, singing all the time,
Upon a low sweet soothing tune, strange words
Of promise that seemed like the distant taunts
Of all my past beliefs, and that I sought
To cover with my curses; till, last night,
My soul grew faint with hearing them—how sweet,
How full of good they were. Then I fell still,
Yea, stunned, and with my head upon the ground;
And through the shut bleared darkness of my eyes,
I seemed to see the room about me lit
And fearful, and the Sword from off the wall
Unscabbarded before me in the midst,
Most terrible and living, and in light—
Just like a great archangel with the glare
Of burning expiations full on him.
O then my soul did call upon the Steel;
And the Steel heard and swore to me. My soul
Tore forth the hidden-rooted love of thee,
Thy treasured words—each one a cruel worm
That gnaws me through for ever, thy fair face
From the first inmost shrine, thy early kiss,
Thy separate falsenesses, all my despair,
My utter helplessness—and flung them down,
The very writhing entrails of my life
Become one inward horror to be borne
No longer. And there came about me, loud,
The mocking of a thousand impious tongues,
That seemed to clash and rattle hideously
From ancient hollow sepulchres of men
Long buried and forgotten; for my love
Their gibe was, for my faith, for my despair,
For my long blindness: and at last I knew,
And, understanding, called with a great voice
Upon the Steel: and the Steel heard me there,
And swore to me—for you and me and God!
Sing on, O little voice: She cannot hear;
There is a pact between us.