Page:The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman, 1908.djvu/319

THE BLAMELESS PRINCE Some days the Prince, upon the skirts of death,

Spake not a word nor heard the Queen's one prayer,

Nor turned his face, nor felt her loving breath,

Nor saw his children when they gathered there,

But rested dumb and motionless; and so

The Queen grew weak with watching and her woe,

Till from his bed they bore her to her own

A little. In the middle-tide of night,

Thereafter, he awoke with moan on moan,

And saw his death anigh, and said outright,

Then sped they for the Queen, yet ere the call

Reached her, he cried once more, "Too late! too late!"

And at those words, before they led her in,

Came the sure dart of him that lay in wait.

The Prince was dead: what goodness and what sin

Died with him were untold. At sunrise fell

Across the capital his solemn knell.

All respite it forbade, and joyance thence,

To one for whom his passion till the last

Wrought in the dying Prince. Her wan suspense

Thus ended, a great fear upon her passed.

So with her whole estate she sought and gained

A refuge in a nunnery close at view,

And there for months withdrew her, and remained

In tears and prayers. Anon a sickness grew

Upon her, and her face the ghost became

Of what it was, the same and not the same.

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