Page:Verses–Blanche·Baughan-1898.pdf/137

 Thee see I clear, thee speak I loud, thee―Death! ‘Bow low?’ Yea! even to the ocean-floor, Where wait high nuptials with a fair bride—Death! Give ye good welcome, O most royal bride! Ah, Venus! ah, sweet guerdon from the sea, Gramercy!” (and he hirpled down the sand), “Gramercy!”

Thereupon, the mist, with voice Near and outringing, toss’d an answer back, “Who cries Gramercy?”

Leon’s heart stood still. Who spoke? Or can the mist find words, and speak? “Who cries Gramercy?” At this second call, Remembering Death, he answer’d listlessly, “I, Leon, son of Ector.” Came the voice: “Wait, Leon, son of Ector! Wait for me!” So there he stay’d; for Morgan’s glozing words