Then spake the sons of wisdom, they who stood
Apart in silent conclave, while the din
Of ineffectual babblings drew no rood
More near conclusion: “Hear, Ultonian kin!
What arm so strong Ultonia’s wars to win,
Foster the strength of strong, inspire the weak?
Lives there a soul full fit to stand within
The Monarch’s room? What worthier do you seek
To guide the reins of peace, or would ye other? Speak!”
XXXI.
“None! none!” the multitudinous answer rang
Unanimous. (King Fergus, with a sigh,
Turned in his sleep. Perchance he dreamed there sang
Some bard of deeds their fathers did.) The cry
Thrilled through the chamber’s walls, and far and nigh
Found answer in a thousand throats, that gave
Their yet unmeaning plaudits to the sky;
And as, in sound like shoreward-shrieking wave
They shout, the secret they in others’ faces crave.
XXXII.
Without, the crowd swayed back and forth, with din
Low-muffled, as the sea doth surge and sway
In silken swell, from storm gone past. Within
Was calm, and brows determined sought a way
Through that old law to write emphatic “Nay!”
Then quoth the wisemen’s chief: “Our path is plain.
Our hearts upon our tongues have said their say,
And Fergus o’er Ultonia’s host shall reign,
If but to meet our thoughts your constant strength ye strain.
XXXIII.
“Let fools and babblers take their journey far,
And silent sit as sent’nel to your speech.
What wots the King of that which him doth mar
If but the knowledge in the breast of each
Be locked beyond a thought’s long-arméd reach
Till forced forgetfulness doth rust the key
Or haply lose it. E’en your art let teach
The water to forget his form to see
Or give it back, when to ablution cometh he.”
XXXIV.
Approval shone within their eyes. Their tongues
In loud assent gave forth: “Fergus is King!”
And once again without, untutored lungs
Caught up the cry, nor knew what meant the thing,
’Till, like a mighty bird, on fresh-plumed wing,
The Royal chariot once again did shake
Rampart and roof, as champing steeds did fling
Their heads on high, and sped by mount and brake
To scenes of less surprise when Fergus should awake.
. . . . . .