Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/147

 And loud with wail of women many a stream Whose own live song was like love's deepening dream, Spake all against the spoiler: wherefore still Wrath waxed with pity, quickening all his will, In Tristram's heart for every league he rode Through the aching land so broad a curse bestrode With so supreme a shadow: till one dawn Above the green bloom of a gleaming lawn, High on the strait steep windy bridge that spanned A glen's deep mouth, he saw that shadow stand Visible, sword on thigh and mace in hand Vast as the mid bulk of a roof-tree's beam. So, sheer above the wild wolf-haunted stream, Dire as the face disfeatured of a dream, Rose Urgan: and his eyes were night and flame; But like the fiery dawn were his that came Against him, lit with more sublime desire Than lifts toward heaven the leaping heart of fire: And strong in vantage of his perilous place The huge high presence, red as earth's first race, Reared like a reed the might up of his mace, And smote: but lightly Tristram swerved, and drove Right in on him, whose void stroke only clove Air, and fell wide, thundering athwart: and he Sent forth a stormier cry than wind or sea When midnight takes the tempest for her lord; And all the glen's throat seemed as hell's that roared; But high like heaven's light over hell shone Tristram's sword,