Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/121

 This many a year they have served thee, and deserved, If ever man might yet of all that served, Since the first heartbeat bade the first man's knee Bend, and his mouth take music, praising thee, Some comfort; and some honey indeed of thine Thou hast mixed for these with life's most bitter wine, Commending to their passionate lips a draught No deadlier than thy chosen of old have quaffed And blessed thine hand, their cupbearer's: for not On all men comes the grace that seals their lot As holier in thy sight, for all these feuds That rend it, than the light-souled multitude's, Nor thwarted of thine hand nor blessed; but these Shall see no twilight, Love, nor fade at ease, Grey-grown and careless of desired delight, But lie down tired and sleep before the night. These shall not live till time or change may chill Or doubt divide or shame subdue their will, Or fear or slow repentance work them wrong, Or love die first: these shall not live so long. Death shall not take them drained of dear true life Already, sick or stagnant from the strife, Quenched: not with dry-drawn veins and lingering breath Shall these through crumbling hours crouch down to death. Swift, with one strong clean leap, ere life's pulse tire, Most like the leap of lions or of fire,