The sick weak beast seeking to help herself
By striking at her better, miss'd, and brought
Her own claw back, and wounded her own heart.
Sweet were the days when I was all unknown,
But when my name was lifted up, the storm
Broke on the mountain and I cared not for it.
Right well know I that Fame is half-disfame,
Yet needs must work my work. That other fame,
To one at least, who hath not children, vague,
The cackle of the unborn about the grave,

I cared not for it: a single misty star,

Which is the second in a line of stars
That seem a sword beneath a belt of three,
I never gazed upon it but I dreamt

Of some vast charm concluded in that star
To make fame nothing. Wherefore, if I fear,
Giving you power upon me thro' this charm,
That you might play me falsely, having power,
However well you think you love me now
(As sons of kings loving in pupilage

Have turn'd to tyrants when they came to power)

I rather dread the loss of use than fame;

If you and not so much from wickedness,

As some wild turn of anger, or a mood

Of overstrain'd affection, it may be,

To keep me all to your own self, or else

A sudden spurt of woman's jealousy,

Should try this charm on whom you say you love."

And Vivien answer'd, smiling as in wrath: "Have I not sworn? I am not trusted. Good!

Well, hide it, hide it; I shall find it out;
And being found take heed of Vivien.
A woman and not trusted, doubtless I
Might feel some sudden turn of anger born
Of your misfaith; and your fine epithet
Is accurate too, for this full love of mine
Without the full heart back may merit well
Your term of overstrain'd. So used as I,
My daily wonder is, I love at all.

And as to woman's jealousy, O why not?
O to what end, except a jealous one,
And one to make me jealous if I love,
Was this fair charm invented by yourself?
I well believe that all about this world
You cage a buxom captive here and there,
Closed in the four walls of a hollow tower
From which is no escape forevermore."

Then the great Master merrily answer'd her : "Full many a love in loving youth was mine, I needed then no charm to keep them mine But youth and love; and that full heart of yours Whereof you prattle, may now assure you mine; So live uncharm'd. For those who wrought it first, The wrist is parted from the hand that waved, The feet unmortised from their ankle-bones Who paced it, ages back: but will you hear The legend as in guerdon for your rhyme?

"There lived a king in the most Eastern East, Less old than I, yet older, for my blood

Hath earnest in it of far springs to be.

A tawny pirate anchor'd in his port,

Whose bark had plunder'd twenty nameless isles;
And passing one, at the high peep of dawn,
He saw two cities in a thousand boats

All fighting for a woman on the sea.

And pushing his black craft among them all,
He lightly scatter'd theirs and brought her off,
With loss of half his people arrow-slain ;

A maid so smooth, so white, so wonderful,

They said a light came from her when she moved:
And since the pirate would not yield her up,
The King impaled him for his piracy;

Then made her Queen: but those isle-nurtur'd eyes
Waged such unwilling tho' successful war

On all the youth, they sicken'd; councils thinn'd,
And armies waned, for magnet-like she drew
The rustiest iron of old fighters' hearts;

And beasts themselves would worship; camels knelt
Unbidden, and the brutes of mountain back
That carry kings in castles, bow'd black knees
Of homage, ringing with their serpent hands,
To make her smile, her golden ankle-bells.
What wonder, being jealous, that he sent
His horns of proclamation out thro' all
The hundred under-kingdoms that he sway'd
To find a wizard who might teach the King
Some charm, which being wrought upon the Queen
Might keep her all his own: to such a one
He promised more than ever king has given,
A league of mountain full of golden mines,

A province with a hundred miles of coast,
A palace and a princess, all for him :

But on all those who tried and fail'd, the King
Pronounced a dismal sentence, meaning by it
To keep the list low and pretenders back,
Or like a king, not to be trifled with --
Their heads should moulder on the city gates.
And many tried and fail'd, because the charm
Of nature in her overbore their own:
And many a wizard brow bleach'd on the walls;
And many weeks a troop of carrion crows
Hung like a cloud above the gateway towers."

And Vivien breaking in upon him, said:
"I sit and gather honey; yet, methinks,
Your tongue has tript a little: ask yourself.
The lady never made unwilling war

With those fine eyes: she had her pleasure in it,
And made her good man jealous with good cause.
And lived there neither dame nor damsel then
Wroth at a lover's loss? were all as tame,
I mean, as noble, as their Queen was fair?
Not one to flirt a venom at her eyes,
Or pinch a murderous dust into her drink,

Or make her paler with a poison'd rose?

Well, those were not our days; but did they find
A wizard? Tell me, was he like to thee?"

She ceased, and made her lithe arm round his neck Tighten, and then drew back, and let her eyes

He answer'd laughing: "Nay, not like to me. At last they found - his foragers for charms A little glassy-headed hairless man, Who lived alone in a great wild on grass; Read but one book, and ever reading grew So grated down and filed away with thought, So lean his eyes were monstrous; while the skin Clung but to crate and basket, ribs and spine. And since he kept his mind on one sole aim, Nor ever touch'd fierce wine, nor tasted flesh, Nor own'd a sensual wish, to him the wall