Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/127

 Is not his life sealed fast on him with sleep, By witchcraft of his own and love's, to keep Till earth be fire and ashes?' 'Surely,' said Her lover, 'not as one alive or dead The great good wizard, well beloved and well Predestinate of heaven that casts out hell For guerdon gentler far than all men's fate, Exempt alone of all predestinate, Takes his strange rest at heart of slumberland, More deep asleep in green Broceliande Than shipwrecked sleepers in the soft green sea Beneath the weight of wandering waves: but he Hath for those roofing waters overhead Above him always all the summer spread Or all the winter wailing: or the sweet Late leaves marked red with autumn's burning feet, Or withered with his weeping, round the seer Rain, and he sees not, nor may heed or hear The witness of the winter: but in spring He hears above him all the winds on wing Through the blue dawn between the brightening boughs, And on shut eyes and slumber-smitten brows Feels ambient change in the air and strengthening sun, And knows the soul that was his soul at one With the ardent world's, and in the spirit of earth His spirit of life reborn to mightier birth And mixed with things of elder life than ours; With cries of birds, and kindling lamps of flowers,