Page:The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman, 1908.djvu/307

THE BLAMELESS PRINCE Before the dais. The Prince's eyes and hers

Met like the clouds that lighten. In a breath

Swift memory flamed between them, as, when stirs

No wind, and the dark sky is still as death,

One lance of living fire is hurled across;

Then comes the whirlwind, and the forests toss!

Yet as she bent her beauteous shoulders down,

And heard the kindly greeting of the Queen,

He spoke such words as one who wears a crown

Speaks, and no more; and with a low, proud mien

She murmured answer, from the presence past

Lightly, nor any look behind her cast.

In that first glimpse each read the other's heart;

But not without a summoning of himself

To judgment did the Prince forever part

From truth and fealty. As he pondered, still

With stronger voice Love claimed a debt unpaid,

And youth's hot pulses would not be gainsaid.

She with a fierce, full gladness saw again

Their broken threads of love begin to spin

In one red strand, and let it guide her then,

Whether it led to danger or to sin;

And shortly, on the morrow, took the road,

And gained her country-seat, and there abode.

The Prince, a bright near morning, mounted horse

Garbed for the hunt, and left the town, and through

The deep-pathed wood rode on a wayward course,

With a set purpose in him,—though he knew

It not, and let his steed go where it might;

For this sole thought pursued him since that night:—

The seed and reaped the harvest of my days? 277