Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/186

148 She will cry, "Is this the foe I dreaded?

This his idol, this that royal bride?

Ah! an hour of health would purge his eyesight!

Stay, pale queen, forever by my side."

Hush, no words! that smile, I see, forgives me.

I am now thy nurse, I bid thee sleep.

Close thine eyes: this flooding moonlight blinds them.

Nay, all's well again! thou must not weep.

TRISTRAM.

I am happy! yet I feel there's something

Swells my heart, and takes my breath away.

Through a mist I see thee; near—come nearer!

Bend—bend down! I yet have much to say.

ISEULT.

Heaven! his head sinks back upon the pillow.—

Tristram! Tristram! let thy heart not fail!

Call on God and on the holy angels!

What, love, courage!—Christ! he is so pale.

TRISTRAM.

Hush, 'tis vain: I feel my end approaching.

This is what my mother said should be,

When the fierce pains took her in the forest,

The deep draughts of death, in bearing me.

"Son," she said, "thy name shall be of sorrow;

Tristram art thou called for my death's sake."

So she said, and died in the drear forest.

Grief since then his home with me doth make.