Whom hast thou longed for most,
True love of mine?
Whom hast thou loved and lost?
Lo, she is thine!
She that another wed
Breaks from her vow;
She that hath long been dead
Wakes for thee now.
Dreams haunt the hapless bed,
Ghosts haunt the night,
Life crowns her living head,
Love and Delight.
Nay, not a dream nor ghost,
Nay, but Divine,
She that was loved and lost
Waits to be thine!
She ceased, and a moan of desire went up from all who heard.
Then the Wanderer saw that those beside him tore at the bandages about their brows and rent them loose. Only the priests who lay upon the ground stirred not, though they also moaned.
And now again she sang, still holding her hand before her face:
Ye that seek me, ye that sue me,
Ye that flock beneath my tower,
Ye would win me, would undo me,
I must perish in an hour,
Dead before the Love that slew me, clasped the
Bride and crushed the flower.
Hear the word and mark the warning,
Beauty lives but in your sight,
Beauty fades from all men’s scorning
In the watches of the night,
Beauty wanes before the morning, and
Love dies in his delight.
She ceased, and once more there was silence. Then suddenly she bent forward across the pylon brow so far that it seemed that she must fall, and stretching out her arms as though to clasp those beneath, showed all the glory of her loveliness.
The Wanderer looked, then dropped his eyes as one who has seen the brightness of the noonday sun. In the darkness of his mind the world was lost, and he could think of naught save the clamour of the people, which fretted his ears. They were all crying, and none were listening.
“See! see!” shouted one. “Look at her hair; it is dark as the raven’s wing, and her eyes—they are dark as night. Oh, my love! my love!”
“See! see!” cried another, “were ever skies so blue as those eyes of hers, was ever foam so white as those white arms?”
“Even so she looked whom once I wed many summers gone,” murmured a third, “even so when first I drew her veil. Hers was that gentle smile breaking like ripples on the water, hers that curling hair, hers that child-like grace.”