Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/186

 And all the fraughtage of the fateful bark, Loud like a child upon them wept King Mark, Seeing round the sword's hilt which long since had fought For Cornwall's love a scroll of writing wrought, A scripture writ of Tristram's hand, wherein Lay bare the sinless source of all their sin, No choice of will, but chance and sorcerous art, With prayer of him for pardon: and his heart Was molten in him, wailing as he kissed Each with the kiss of kinship—'Had I wist, Ye had never sinned nor died thus, nor had I Borne in this doom that bade you sin and die So sore a part of sorrow.' And the king Built for their tomb a chapel bright like spring With flower-soft wealth of branching tracery made Fair as the frondage each fleet year sees fade, That should not fall till many a year were done. There slept they wedded under moon and sun And change of stars: and through the casements came Midnight and noon girt round with shadow and flame To illume their grave or veil it: till at last On these things too was doom as darkness cast: For the strong sea hath swallowed wall and tower, And where their limbs were laid in woful hour For many a fathom gleams and moves and moans The tide that sweeps above their coffined bones In the wrecked chancel by the shivered shrine: Nor where they sleep shall moon or sunlight shine