Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/182

 My ship bound hither from the northward back, And if the sail be white thereof or black.' And knowing the soothfast sense of his desire So sore the heart within her raged like fire She could not wring forth of her lips a word, But bowing made sign how humbly had she heard. And the sign given made light his heart; and she Set her face hard against the yearning sea Now all athirst with trembling trust of hope To see the sudden gates of sunrise ope; But thirstier yearned the heart whose fiery gate Lay wide that vengeance might come in to hate. And Tristram lay at thankful rest, and thought Now surely life nor death could grieve him aught, Since past was now life's anguish as a breath, And surely past the bitterness of death. For seeing he had found at these her hands this grace, It could not be but yet some breathing-space Might leave him life to look again on love's own face. 'Since if for death's sake,' in his heart he said, 'Even she take pity upon me quick or dead, How shall not even from God's hand be compassion shed? For night bears dawn, how weak soe'er and wan, And sweet ere death, men fable, sings the swan. So seems the Swan my signal from the sea To sound a song that sweetens death to me Clasped round about with radiance from above Of dawn, and closer clasped on earth by love.