Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/100

 Wherein his soul was traveller. And he sighed, Seeing, and with eyes set sadly toward his bride Laid him down by her, and spake not: but within His heart spake, saying how sore should be the sin To break toward her, that of all womankind Was faithfullest, faith plighted, or unbind The bond first linked between them when they drank The love-draught: and his quick blood sprang and sank, Remembering in the pulse of all his veins That red swift rapture, all its fiery pains And all its fierier pleasures: and he spake Aloud, one burning word for love’s keen sake— “Iseult;” and full of love and lovelier fear A virgin voice gave answer—“I am here.” And a pang rent his heart at root: but still, For spirit and flesh were vassals to his will, Strong faith held mastery on them: and the breath Felt on his face did not his will to death, Nor glance nor lute-like voice nor flower-soft touch Might so prevail upon it overmuch That constancy might less prevail than they, For all he looked and loved her as she lay Smiling; and soft as bird alights on bough He kissed her maiden mouth and blameless brow, Once, and again his heart within him sighed: But all his young blood’s yearning toward his bride, How hard soe’er it held his life awake For passion, and sweet nature’s unforbidden sake, And will that strove unwillingly with will it might not break,