Meanwhile upon the plains in glorious war
The brave Prince led his conquering hosts; but still,
Amid the shock of battle and the crash
Of hostile spears, one vision filled his soul
Amid the changes of the hard-fought day,
Throughout the weary watches of the night,
The dream, the happy dream, returned again.
Always the selfsame vision of a maid
Fairer than earthly, filled his eyes and took
The savour from the triumph, ay, and touched
The warrior's heart with an unwonted ruth,
So that he shrank as never yet before
From every day's monotony of blood,
And saw with unaccustomed pain the sum
Of death and pain, and hopeless shattered lives,
Because a softer influence touched his soul.
Till one night, on the day before the feast
Which King Omartes destined for his peers,
While now his legions swept their conquering way
A hundred leagues or more from Tanais,
There came the message from the slave, and he
Within his tent, after the well-fought day,
Resting with that fair image in his eyes,
Woke suddenly to know that he was loved.
Then, in a moment, putting from him sleep
And well-earned rest, he bade his charioteer
Yoke to his chariot three unbroken colts
Which lately o'er the endless Scythian plain
Careered, untamed; and, through the sleeping camp,
Beneath the lucid aspect of the night,
He sped as speeds the wind. The great stars hung
Like lamps above the plain; the great stars sank
And faded in the dawn; the hot red sun
Leapt from the plain; noon faded into eve;
Again the same stars lit the lucid night;
And still, with scarce a pause, those fierce hoofs dashed
Across the curved plain onward, till he saw
Far off the well-lit palace casements gleam
Wherein his love was set.
Then instantly
He checked his panting team, the rapid wheels
Ceased, and his mail and royal garb he hid
Beneath a white robe such as nobles use
By Tanais; and to the lighted hall
He passed alone, afoot, giving command
To him who drove, to await him at the gate.
Now, when the Prince drew near the vestibule,
The feast long time had sped, and all the guests
Had eaten and drunk their fill; and he unseen,
Through the close throng of serving men and maids
Around the door, like some belated guest
To some obscurer station slipped, and took
The wine-cup with the rest, who marvelled not
To see him come, nor knew him; only she
Who sent the message whispered him a word:
"Have courage; she is there, and cometh soon.
Be brave; she loves thee only; watch and wait."
Even then the King Omartes, where he sate
On high among his nobles, gave command
To summon from her maiden chamber forth
The Princess. And obedient to the call,
Robed in pure white, clothed round with maiden shame,
Full of vague hope and tender yearning love,
To the high royal throne Odatis came.
And when the Prince beheld the maid, and saw
The wonder which so long had filled his soul—
His vision of the still night clothed with life
And breathing earthly air—and marked the heave
Of her white breast, and saw the tell-tale flush
Crimson her cheek with maiden modesty,
Scarce could his longing eager arms forbear
To clasp the virgin round, so fair she seemed.
But, being set far down from where the King
Sat high upon the daïs 'midst the crowd
Of eager emulous faces looking love,
None marked his passionate gaze, or stretched-forth hands;
Till came a pause, which hushed the deep-drawn sigh
Of admiration, as the jovial King,
Full tender of his girl, but flushed with wine,
Spake thus to her:
"Daughter, to this high feast
Are bidden all the nobles of our land.
Now, therefore, since to wed is good, and life
To the unwedded woman seems a load
Which few may bear, and none desire, I prithee,
This jewelled chalice taking, mingle wine
As well thou knowest, and the honeyed draught
Give to some noble youth of those thou seest
Along the well-ranged tables, knowing well
That him to whom thou givest, thou shalt wed.
I fetter not thy choice, girl. I grow old;
I have no son to share the weight of rule,
And fain would see thy children ere I die."
Then, with a kiss upon her blushing cheek,
He gave the maid the cup. The cressets' light
Fell on the jewelled chalice, which gave back
A thousand answering rays. Silent she stood
A moment, half in doubt, then down the file
Of close-ranked eager faces flushed with hope,
And eyes her beauty kindled more than wine,
Passed slow, a breathing statue. Her white robe
Among the purple and barbaric gold
Showed like the snowy plumage of a dove,
As down the hall, the cup within her hands,
She, now this way regarding and now that,
Passed, with a burning blush upon her cheek;
And on each youthful noble her large eyes
Rested a moment only, icy cold,
Though many indeed were there, brave, fair to see,
Fit for a maiden's love; but never at all
The one overmastering vision of her dream
Rose on her longing eyes, till hope itself
Grew faint, and, ere she gained the end, she turned
Sickening to where, along the opposite wall,
Sate other nobles young and brave as those,
But not the fated vision of her dream.
Meanwhile the Prince, who 'mid the close-set throng
Of humbler guests was hidden, saw her come
And turn ere she had marked him, and again
Down the long line of princely revellers
Pass slow as in a dream; and all his soul
Grew sick with dread lest haply, seeing not
The one expected face, and being meek
And dutiful, and reverencing her sire,
She in despair might make some sudden choice
And leave him without love. And as she went
He could not choose but gaze, as oft in sleep
Some dreadful vision chains us that we fail
To speak or move, though to be still is death.
And once he feared that she had looked on him
And passed, and once he thought he saw her pause
By some tall comely youth; and then she reached
The opposite end, and as she turned her face
And came toward him again and where the jars
Of sweet wine stood for mingling, with a bound
His heart went out to her; for now her cheek
Pale as the white moon sailing through the sky,
And the dead hope within her eyes, and pain
And hardly conquered tears, made sure his soul,
Knowing that she was his.