"Pause," said the Phantom, "and survey the tree!14
More worth one fruit that weighs a branchlet down,
Than all which mortals in the sword can see.
Thou ask'st the falchion to defend a crown—
But seize the fruit, and to thy grasp decreed
More realms than Ormuzd lavish'd on the Mede;
"Than great Darius left his doomèd son,15
From Scythian wastes to Abyssinian caves;
From Nimrod's tomb in silenced Babylon
To Argive islands fretting Asian waves;
Than changed to sceptres the rude Lictor-rods,
And placed the worm call'd Cæsar with the gods!
"Pause—take thy choice—each gem a host can buy,16
Seize—and yoke kings to War's triumphant car!
The Child of Earth, no Genii here defy,
The fruits unguarded, and the fiends afar—
But dark the perils that surround the Sword,
And slight its worth—ambitious if its Lord;
"True to the warrior on his native soil,17
Its blade would break in the Invader's clasp;
A weapon meeter for the sons of Toil,
When plough-shares turn to falchions in their grasp;—
Leave the rude boor to battle for his hearth—
Expand thy scope;—Ambition asks the Earth!"
"Spirit or Sorceress," said the frowning King,18
"Panic like the Sun illumes an Universe;
But life and joy both Fame and Sun should bring;
And God ordains no glory for a curse.
The souls of kings should be the towers of law,
We right the balance, if the sword we draw!
"Not mine the crowns the Persian lost or won,19
Tiaras glittering over kneeling slaves;
Mine be the sword that freed at Marathon,
The unborn races by the Father-graves—
Or stay'd the Orient in the Spartan pass,
And carved on Time thy name, Leonidas."
The Sibyl of the Sources of the Deep20
Heard nor replied, but, indistinct and wan,
Went as a Dream that through the worlds of Sleep
Leads the charm'd soul of labour-wearied man;
And ev'n as man and dream, so, side by side,
Glideth the mortal with the gliding guide.
Glade after glade, beneath that forest tree21
They pass,—till sudden, looms amid the waves,
A dismal rock, hugely and heavily,
With crags distorted vaulting horrent caves;
A single moonbeam through the hollow creeps:
Glides with the beam the Lady of the deeps.
Then Arthur felt the Dove that at his breast22
Lay nestling warm—stir quick and quivering,
His soothing hand the crisped plumes caress'd;—
Slow went they on, the Lady and the King:
And, ever as they went, before their way
O'er prison'd waters lengthening stretch'd the ray.
Now the black jaws as of a hell they gain;23
The Lake's pale Hecate pauses. "Lo," she said,
"Within, the Genii thou invadest reign.
Alone thy feet the threshold floors must tread—
Lone is the path when glory is the goal;—
Pass to thy proof—O solitary soul!"