Qlatmll Untneratta KIthrara Stiiuta, Nctn ^atk BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OF HENRY W. SAGE 1891 Cornell University Library PR 4787.L9 The loving history of Peridore & Paravai 3 1924 013 482 546 The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013482546 THE LOVING HISTORY OF PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL THE LOVING HISTORY OF PERIDORE Sc PARA VAIL BY MAURICE HEWLETT LONDON : 48 PALL MALL W. COLLINS SONS & CO. LTD. GLASGOW MELBOURNE AUCKLAND COPYRIGHT First Imtressipti ■ . ■ November 1917. Second Impression . . November jgiT- NOTE A PROSE version of this fable was included in my New Canterbury Tales ; but it had been projected as verse, and is now put forward as it was first intended to be. The temptation of Vigilasis borrowed from the life of Saint Guthlac of Croyland, as reported, I think, by Roger of Wendover ; but the clew to the heart of the tale is a mediaeval belief that the soul enters the body in the mother's milk, which I have read somewhere or other but cannot now put my hand to. As for time and place, I am not bound to answer. It was " once upon a time " ; and if England is not fairyland, it is often very much like it. That is all it seems necessary to say here. West Wittering, April 19 1 7. CONTENTS I. The Foundling I II. The Nurseling 19 III. Paravail .... 37 IV. Death in Life 5S V. Peridore .... 7S VI. Life in Death ... 95 PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL I. THE FOUNDLING Broad under Heaven a great Plain is, Which to the earth-bound, like the sea, Shuts down the mind in silences And blue horizons. There no tree Dare stand alone, but seeks a lee Against the wind in niates of his ; So like an island in one tether Bound, they ride out the winter weather. 2 PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL There, in a desolation vast, Transient beneath the ringing dome. The storm -beat shepherd's lot is cast, With shiftless beasts inur'd to roam — With limping hare that has no home. With plover, plaything of the blast. That makes no nest, but on bare earth Nurses her freckled eggs to birth. 3 Unwritten is that sky of brass By kindlier bird, untenanted That billowing vacancy of grass By horn'd or man'd or antler'd head ; There only, swarming to be fed, The sheep in murmuring legions pass, Like a foam-patch which on the main Accrues, disparts, and leaves no stain. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 4 Only at night the secret things Whose doings certify the stars Betray themselves in pulsing wings, In hasty scratchings whose left scars The dawn reveals : or some cry mars The silence which like grave-clout clings About the land. Here do their rites Foumart and brock and fox o' nights. 5 Yet men in such gaunt emptiness Have made a shift in days gone by To live and labour, and no less Crave intercession from on high ; And here they rear'd towards the sky A giant shrine by main duress — A mighty cenotaph of stones To voice their breath and serve their bones, 4 PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL Which elsewhere under mound and barrow Crouch, with their trusted flints beside, With some hope of an outgate narrow Where forethought may be justified. Meantime, they say, let memory bide Of love and toil, of sap and marrow ; For though their flesh return to clay That great Ring stands their deeds to say. 7 Fretted by weather, cold and heat, A shagg of ruin hoar and vain. Aeons of time have render'd it Most like a secular moraine. Of that once labyrinth on the Plain Still stand unshatter'd, undefeat, Scarr'd reeling pylons, like a cage Wherein some old God mew'd his rage. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 5 8 Ere Christ had ris'n four hundred years The reek of it yet savour'd blood ; A haunted place and full of fears, Inveterate testimony it stood To all a pastoral neighbourhood, Neither for outcry nor for tears. But, since All-Good can brook All- Evil, Warning to 'ware both God and Devil. 9 But there, because a place of dread Inflames an itch for dreadful doings. The Witches us'd not fear to tread. To mate and couple in the ruins. There on wild nights their squalls and mewings Made the dark vivid — for these wed Like leopards, and 'tis pain not ease Which heels to love the like of these. PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL lO There also, seeing the place was rife With horror, in those ancient days A hermit liv'd his rugged life And with their lewdness serv'd his praise. Over their shrieks his pray'r he'd raise, Dare holy with unholy strife. Vox in deserto, such he was ; Men call'd him Blessed Vigilas. II Sign-post of doom, less man than shell Was he, from whom came hollow noise, Which like a lone wind rose and fell. Having no semblance of the voice Wherewith a man may sound his joys Or woes. It tocsin'd like a knell Reproach of flesh, the watchman's cry, " The hour is late, the end is nigh." PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 12 A wattled hut hard by the scar That great Ring makes upon the level He held, and wag'd untiring war On all the creatures of the Devil, That is, on all things made; for evil, Said he, inhabited our star Since Adam fell, and open'd sin To all who owed him origin. 13 The gadding witch-kind went in fear Of Vigilas, that ghostly flail, For on their Sabbaths he fell sheer Like the storm-slanted arrowy hail On tender leafage. Woe and bale, Haro, derision, scoff and fleer, Outcry and scorn — ^these hosts he led Against them ; and they always fled, 8 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 14 Leaving their horned paramour Lonely and scowling in the Ring, Legion to all the world no more, But — the Black Man ! a flouted king, A boggart in a field, a thing Reject and null — whereat he'd score His wrinkl'd flanks and cry an oath, " This man shall fall, or I, or both." 15 But going about incessantly With his accustom'd wiles and snares, He found no vantage to his gree To take the Hermit unawares ; For when he was not at his prayers He plied his scourge, lest men might see One spot which was not raw or rent In his old fleshly tenement. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL i6 At last our Enemy, with the few He trusted, whereof one had name Beelzebub, and th' other two Were Termagaunt, who knows no shame, And Lucifer, in whose dark fame The Angels vaunted as he flew Mocking in Heaven, and so were lost And serv'd God for a holocaust — 17 With these, I say, he schem'd a gin Wherein to trap the godly man. To net him fast in webs of sin Whose only outlet Hellward ran. So rarely fashion'd was the plan There was a chance two souls to win ; For with a soul his trap was baited To snare that high soul which he hated. c lo PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL i8 All-Hallows Eve a volleying wind Beset the Ring. All night it fought Like some wild agony of mind Wherein a sinner may be caught. As swift as fear or wicked thought Which neither Time nor Place can bind Came witchwife after witch, and lit Within the Ring, and madden'd it. 19 The wind inspires their dangerous glee ; They leap, they ride, they skip, they dance. Of his mad freedom making free ; They mew like cats, they scream and prance ; They mount, they rear, they fling askance, Rank as he-goats. Then suddenly Two fall a-fighting, while the rest In tarring them renew their zest. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL ii 20 In a wide space of cold moonlight They roU'd and bit, the others bawling As face or face wicked and white Show'd in the beam from Heav'n down falling A cry to arms, their caterwauling To Vigilas ! From left to right He sign'd his breast ; to the Ring he strode, Then like a wind of wrath from God, 21 Swift, sudden, irresistible, He drave the hags to either side, As a bull madden'd wreaks his will On market-lumber far and wide. " Imps of the Fiend, avaunt ! " he cried, "Out, maggot - brood, and swarm in Hell ! " Then as he voic'd the Name of dread And shap't the Cross, the witches fled. 12 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 22 With whoop and howl and mocking call Down the wild wind they flung in race ; Far in the dark he heard them bawl Their ribaldry ; but with stern face Into the very heart of the place Where late those wantons lay asprawl He urged — and there he stood and shook In palsy grip — ^yet still must look. 23 Loj in a moonlit pool of grass A young child lying wrapt in fleece, So sound asleep to see it was To feel the very palms of Peace Cool on the brow. Oh, what was this .? Was it a snare for Vigilas, Or call to save ? His mind was dumb, But not his heart. He bare it home. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 13 24 Back to his hermitage he bare That child all cradled up in wool : A girl-child, delicately fair, Well-nourisht, shapely, beautiful As some frail flower. Down on his stool He sat, and mutter'd broken pray'r, Poring his treasure. Thanks he ren- der'd To God, and then himself surrender'd 25 To save this innocent from bale, From woe of Earth and wrath of Heaven. " Make Thou me strong and not to fail, O Lord, for this poor flesh of leaven Whereby her sins may be forgiven In grace — " but there his timorous wail Was ended in aposiop^sis, Thinn'd out beneath a warmer thesis. 14 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 26 Triumphant joy, as never yet All his long commerce with the skies Had put him in the way to get, Flooded him with new sympathies ; Melted his heart and drown'd his eyes — Until the child began to fret ; And blindly nozzling in his smock, Made his old heart his ribs to knock. 27 The creature hunger'd — ^yet no skill Of his avail'd him to supply it. He warm'd it milk, for fear of chill. And dipt his finger in, to try it. The sucking child took little by it, But he, the fosterer, knew one thrill A father may — but not that other He has, to know his wife made mother. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 15 28 Yet as it fretted, pok't and pusht, Seeking, but finding not, the fount. Deeply within his sear'd flesh gusht Some sacred longing past account. He felt a primal passion mount And brim the brain. That well-spring flusht The very issues of his heart, And learn'd him method, if not art. 29 He snatcht the child up to his breast, Cover'd it, bore it thro' the dark ; League after league like one possest He cours'd, upheld by purport stark. Still, was the night ; the raven's bark Was all the sound : he took no rest. Four leagues he cover'd ere the grey Silver'd the sleeping eyes of day. 1 6 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL In a white village where dense trees Dream beside muffled cottage-steads He stands at last with shaking knees, His urgent traverse told in beads Upon his face. He nothing heeds Beside his errand, but he sees The house of search snug under thatch, And knocks, and rattles at the latch. 31 There lies a good wife brought to bed Of her first-born, to whom his case He pleads, and by her boy's dark head His girl's sun-garlanded he lays. " Daughter, nurse you the twain," he says, " And count on Grace where Grace is bred." " Sir, they shall share alike of me," She said, " but Christians first should be." PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 17 32 Then Vigilas, that urgent man, Dropt water on the pair in store Upon her bosom, and began The Office found by holy lore ; And nam'd the man-child Peridore, A name which thro' his folk-line ran ; Then to the babe he had sav'd from bale He said, " Be thou nam'd Paravail. 33 " For par avail into the fold Thou cam'st, and -par avail I shrive The soul of thee of Satan's hold, Bought back in this last day alive ; And par avail thou shalt contrive To yield me usury manifold Of such dear purchase. Now God bless This new graft on my godliness ! " 1 8 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 34 So said, the strenuous Anchorite Retrudged with hope the grassy leagues, Fierce for new battle and affright, Ripe for new fastings and fatigues. Yet as he eyed the serried rigs Which sunder'd him from his delight, His treasure left in alien keeping. He groan'd, threw arms up, and stood weeping. II. THE NURSELING Hard is the way of sinners, harder The way of him who sin abjures ! Who thinks to be his own safe- guarder Empoisons oftener than he cures. Of his own bowels he weaves the lures Which snare him to the Devil's larder : On wings of pride he towers, to spin Head downwards from an air too thin. 19 20 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL Woe worth old Vigilas, whose heart After such high negation now Stood empty ! nor could all his art Quicken his zest for prayer and vow. " Alack 1 " he cried to God, " hast Thou No thanks for him who took Thy part So late ? " His words beat vain and wild, His thoughts ran on the witch's child. 3 His finger tingled where those lips Like little rosy leeches tried With his old flesh to come to grips ; His old eyes dimm'd, his old heart cried : " I seek the light and am denied, I crave the Sun, and lo, eclipse — Show Thyself, Lord ! " The Lord did not, And down he dropt like a bird shot. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL ai 4 He'd lost his heart, therewith his nerve Was gone. He stood a flaccid thing, An ill-sped arrow which will swerve Ere it can reach its quarry a-wing. For why ? The hand upon the string Was faint. He heard, but could not serve The call to arms. His heart was toss't 'Twixt foster-dam and Holy Ghost. S Compunctious visions full of scars And weals he had ; asleep, awake. The "plain was rife with sounding wars Wherein no part for him to take. Cowering he lay in fever-quake While nightly under cruel stars The witches gibber'd on his roof. Or scream'd when Legion with his hoof. 22 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL Like a hot stallion, spurr'd the thatch Before he fell to his old work. Vigilas shudder'd, now no match For devildom. By day he'd lurk In shadow'd thickets, where the murk Accorded with his desperate watch ; Then, slinking homewards, lo, the Rogue Fast on his threshold, like a dog. 7 A thin grey dog with bitten ears And feckless grin and long-drawn tongue Lies there, and watches how he nears With scare-fraught eyes white-rimm'd and long. He will not budge for stick nor thong, But snaps whene'er the saint appears. Vigilas, gall'd by rage and pride, Kickt it. It yelpt, and writh'd, and died. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 23 8 Deeply he dug it underground, And stood free man. Again it came, The same grey, fever-ridden hound, Snapping and panting, just the same. He drave a sharp stake thro' its wame And let it lie with its death wound. Jerking its life out on the brank ; And there it died, and dead, it stank. 9 Nor was this all, nor yet the worst, But gone his demiurgic power. There came a drought, the land athirst ; He pray'd, but might not raise a shower. The cattle perisht hour by hour. The fields lay lifeless and accurst. He said, " I am by God forgot," Whereas the truth was, all his thought 24 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL lO Was of the child he'd put to breast, With craving for its eager clasp, Withouten mind of God's behest Or ruefulness for earth agasp, And he no help. A sun-warm'd asp, His nature in him rais'd its crest And struck him deep. Deep in his blood He felt the venom, and swore it good. II " Shall not a father love his child ? Is that so wonderful a thing ? Shall love be lord of all the wild And leave me out of reckoning ? Must I alone go famishing ? Can I forget how once she smil'd ? Fool ! to go speiring ghostly harms From a child cradling in your arms." PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 25 12 So with himself he held debate, And with false heat his heart did season, As all men can sophisticate To prove the worse the better reason. His work for one God now stood treason Against another, the child's fate Incomparable to his stress Of aching her to repossess. 13 For as a doubting man is proud Firmlier to hold his faith for doubting, Covers his leanness in a shroud. And vows it much enhanced by clouting — So Vigilas confirm'd by shouting His self-distrust. He cried aloud, " She needeth me — her need is sore 1 " To hide how much he needed more. 26 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 14 A month of days he bore with pain, Then at the end of fortitude, Fleetly he courst the grassy plain And show'd the goodwife all his mood. She rail'd, he might not be withstood — " The child is mine, give back again My own — " He snatcht it and was gone, Leaving her breastmilk for her son. With prayer thro' good and ill for- tune, With utter love he did contrive To rear that orphan wean'd too soon. To nurse and keep the flame alive ; And as it grew he saw it thrive. By God's grace and a wooden spoon. As for his own necessities. He fed them on her, thro' the eyes. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 27 16 So, to draw short work out of long, All stood to show he had succeeded In making right what had seem'd wrong To her whose plea he had not heeded. What lackt his Paravail she needed ? Was she not supple, quick and strong ? There was no answer possible But, if strength's all, then all was well. 17 Slim as a wand she grew, not tall, A slip of grace in that gaunt plot. As wilding rose sprung from a wall. Or lily from a mixen hot ; So swift, so spry, so light afoot She raced the very hares and all The fearful creatures, though no fear Had they of her who was their peer. 28 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL i8 She had the unconscious lazy ease A creature has, that knows no law But its own leisure : what it sees It has for stretching out a paw. Looking, she hunger'd what she saw, And rippling flasht the prey to seize ; Or, like an idle cat in the sun, Thrill'd to her own perfection. 19 Of body's grace and strength compact, Of loveliness in form and feature, Of unison in mind and act — She had that virtue of the creature Which serves the law of its own nature, Submissive only to the fact. There wonn'd no living thing that Plain, Save one, which held her purpose vain. PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 29 20 With the lithe otter she could swim, Or with the mallard stir the reeds ; For her Brock shunn'd not in the dim Twilight of morn to ply his deeds Of delving. All the lesser breeds Of vole and squirrel, dormouse trim, Frolickt about her. With the sheep She commerced, and their dogs would leap 21 To paw upon her. She was fair, With wide brown eyes and flush of health ; Colour of beechmast was her hair ; Should a man spy on her by stealth He'd vow his utmost hope of wealth To round his arms and cage her there. But no man thought to spy, for no man Would deem her measurable woman. 30 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 22 But Vigilas so deem'd, and fear'd her The more, the lovelier she grew ; And ever as he shunn'd he near'd her, Dreading the end she led him to. He long'd and lov'd, yet loath'd her too, For his heart warn'd him how he'd rear'd her To be a breathing, soulless shell, Pluckt from, and riper made, for Hell. 23 Bitter to think he had given his soul For this, which had no soul to save : Now he must pay the utmost toll And see her sackless to the grave. More certainly since fram'd so brave, Whom par avail from Doom he stole ! Sackless he too the Doom must win Who had let the Demon enter in. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 31 24 No soul within that form so sleek 1 No soul behind those soft brown eyes ! The vermeil on that lovely cheek Old Legion's, wherewith he defies Assault, the rebel flag he flies Whose flaunting makes our manhood weak I Alas, too fair, too dear, too bright — To sear the mind, yet draw the sight 1 25 O' nights, whenas she deeply slept. He must keep vigil. Long and loud He cried to God, he groan'd, he wept, To the cold earth his head he bow'd. Sometimes he lapt him in his shroud And to his open coffin crept, And lay, and there a stuprous sweven Blotted out Paravail, Hell and Heaven. 32 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL a 6 Come the grey dawn he has her stand Upright between his rigid knees, Touches her features with his hand And tells their dangerous falsities : " This bosom veils a soul's disease ; Those two bright eyes from Light are bann'd, Since, being evil, they see such ; That mouth no holy brede dare touch." ay Instruct by him, she gets by rote The words accusing her sweet members, Assures him they are black and bloat, Of Tophet's fire the reeking embers. She falters, tries back, then remembers And runs on in a voice remote ; Then having said them all and right, Turning, she flashes out of sight. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 33 28 Alone, the long day, she is flitting In holts and hollows of the plain, Now coursing like a deer, now sitting Intent and motionless ; again Nibbling at berry, nut or grain With eyes all ways, quick, but un- witting — Those wide, unwinking, soulless eyes Which look all round you animal- wise. 29 In shape the loveliest of our kind. With the clear voice and wooing tone Which cast a noose upon the mind And make a man automaton ; Neither to good nor evil prone. Looking not forward, nor behind — Midway she wonn'd 'twixt man and beast. Most dangerous where she meant it least. 34 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 30 Woe to you, Vigilas, distract 'Twixt ghostly zeal and fleshly lure I How now fulfil your heavenly pact, Make calling and election sure ? No way but kill if thou wouldst cure. " What 1 Slay my love and so be rackt With endless sorrow ? Nay, sweet Lord ! " / warrCd thee : not peace, but a sword, 31 He'd watch her go, but dared not follow ; He'd pray for her, but never learn'd How his pray'r sped. His heart was hollow, A brazier where a dull fire burn'd. When from his knees she lightly turn'd And dipt the lintel like a swallowj He sat, and felt the Devil's rowels Drive at his reins and tear his bowels. PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 35 Just as he lov'd her, so he hated, For so man's love is double-edged, So sweet and bitter find them mated, Into one narrow entry wedged, Unto one dolorous issue pledged That what you crave must first be weighted With the abhorrence and disgust Which are the lees of your own lust. 33 So when you've won it, your old dearth, Old wounds and gangrene fester there, And make the prize of doubtful worth. You turn it back and front, you stare — " Was this the face I thought so rare ? " You mock yourself with acrid mirth. Fool ! find a better looking-glass ; Yourself you see, and not the lass. 36 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 34 So brooded he, like a sick hen White-eyed and ruff'd, that on one leg Hides darkling, while beyond her ken The world's affairs of nest and egg Get done. Up, Vigilas, go beg No mercy more for mortal men Than this, to dream without awaking, Or give the heart without heart-breaking III. PARAVAIL Now to this pair so unaccorded Occasion came, as come it will, When clamant man goes unrewarded And maid insipient thinks no ill. Peridore's young heart was the still Wherein the poison Vigilas hoarded Was brew'd — ^that thirty-days' breast- mate Of Paravail's, now ripe for fate. 37 38 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL a A lithe and proper youth, free- moving, Was he, become like all his race A shepherd, with his flock a-roving From grassy place to grassy place. That honesty glow'd in his face Wherewith he rul'd his soul's behoving ; Within his blood that salt-tide raced Which, moving laughter, kept him chaste. 3 He saw this world so fair an inn. Himself so negligible guest, It seem'd as reasonable to sin As for a bird to foul her nest. To work, to sleep, to have no guest But whom your constancy might win, And her to cherish, and be glad All your life -days — so judged this lad. PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 39 4 Straying the waste at her wild will, She happen'd on him where he lay, His flock about him, dreamy and still In the mild promise of a day, Dark-hair'd and berry-brown — but fay He thinks her, sprite of stream or hill. He sits at gaze, his chin to his knees, Not daring utter what he sees. 5 She, like a wild thing, noses him Upon the air, and peers about With large eyes wondering and dim, While tiptoe and with fingers out She hesitates, incarnate doubt In momentary nerve and limb. As if each tense expectant muscle Would flash response to gleam or rustle. 40 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL Drawn by some spell she cannot guess. Nearer she comes, is now so close The very texture of her dress Is plain, the nails upon her toes Like little shells of faintest rose, Satiny from the wave's caress ; So near at last, her quick breath beats On his, and clings to what it meets, 7 Hovering she stays, then delicately Touches his hair, his arm, his frock — As by the fingers children see — While he sits rigid as a rock ; Ignoring then his heart's loud knock. Or bolden'd by it to make free, She lays her cheek against his cheek, And wooing him, begins to speak. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 41 8 O Heaven ! O Earth ! This child of wonder Who speaks his tongue, or whispers it, Puts now her hand his own hand under. Now turns herself about to sit Between his knees. His mother wit Saves him ineptitude or blunder. He neither leads her nor reproves, But takes for granted both their loves. 9 As in the dream-world, where delight Both sanction is and reason good, Those things we do, spellbound by night, By day bring no compunctious mood — So 'tis no mutiny of the blood Moves Peridore in present plight To take, and give, both clasp and kiss. Nor reckon there is aught amiss. 42 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL lO Kisses come sooiij both warm and plenty, Where two are young and unconfin'd, Their added years some nine-and-twenty, And on their mating all their mind. They cling, they kiss, they lie en- twin'd. Their cruse of longing never empty, But surging like the sea unsated, Flowing again ere all abated. II Nor lackt their tongues of ardent matter More than their lips of their commerce ; Ceasing to kiss, they 'gan to chatter Of themes 'twere idle to rehearse. " I love you," his, " I love you," hers — What kindled pair knows not the patter ? And having run on in this strain An hour or more, why — to it again. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 43 12 He had her name now — Paravail, And taught her his, as Peridore ; Knew her his mother's fireside tale, The fosterling her bosom bore But a short month, ere it was tore Away on just such frenzied gale As blew it in, and how she said That child was lost, and shook her head- is She ponder'd that, her warm cheek laid Against his own, her left arm flung About his middle ; then afraid, Straiten'd her hold on him, and clung, As if beyond her telling tongue The thought within her. Yet she said, Whisp'ring, " Not lost, unless you choose Reject what Vigilas doth refuse." 44 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 14 Now of that hermit he must hear The very truth ; for of the man The countryside all stood in fear. None past his dwelling but he ran With might, in case the dread out- span Of his gaunt arms should fix him there Rigid in sin — for sin, it seem'd, Encompast us more than we dream'd. 15 Snugly she laught, and tuckt her feet The closelier in, what time her face Upturn'd to his made it unmeet Straiter to draw his arm's embrace. Nay, nor just now was kissing-case For youthful blood at fever-heat — His throbbing eyes explored the grass ; But, " Have no fear of Vigilas," PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 45 16 Said she ; " altho' his face is lin'd So deep my finger could lie hid Within the furrows ; he is kind, And hardly ever am I chid. Rather it seems as if he did The sin. He chides himself, I find, The more I coax ; for if I say, Kiss me, he shivers and turns grey, 17 " And bites his cheek, or to the floor Falls, with his forehead battering it ; Or to the great Cross by the door Clings as if he were in a fit ; And if upon his knee I sit He flings me oflF, and trembling sore, Cries Apage ! or some such word In some tongue which I never heard. 46 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL i8 " Yet he thinks much of me I know, For oftentimes his eyes grow full With looking at me, and his woe Is piteous when I am dull, Forget my wicked parts, or pull His beard, or chafe to be let go ; And when he thinks me fast asleep He stands above me, and I peep, 19 " And see the tears fall down his cheeks. And little rivers in his beard ; Then presently reproach he speaks. As if he thought some one o'erheard Who is not I. ' Lord, speak one word. What have I done amiss ? ' then shrieks, ' Lord, if I save her, may I not Myself be sav'd, and this forgot ? ' " PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 47 20 But Peridore, gone pale as death, May hardly suffer her to end Before he speak. " O love," he saith, " I know not whither this may tend. Either that man must be your friend Or I — " he strove to cope with breath — " Not both — not both ! Touch him no more. Or look your last on Peridore 1 " 21 Dismay'd she hears him, then she peers Into his face, then touches him ; He turns away to hide his tears, Tries hard to make his visage grim. Hating to see his eyes grow dim. She kisses them till light appears. Promises truly all his will So only he may love her still. 48 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL The sun goes down, the sky grows faint, The evening star shines clear and cold ; Now he must quit his innocent And lead his flock across the wold ; And she must face her master old With news which well may prove him saint Or none at all. Lightfoot she flits Homeward, and meek at table sits. 23 But never a word has she to say Of Peridore, or love, or kisses. Think it not strange — ^for who's the may Shares with a man such secret blisses ? Of all ways open to her this is The last and thorniest. Judgment Day Could not require it. Fatima's lord Would find no key to unlock that hoard. PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 49 24 Withal she kneels with him at pray'r, Bows with him at the holy Name, Suffers his hand upon her hair, Listens his comfort or his blame. And is not conscience - prickt. No shame Hath she, yet watches full of care He touch nought of her but her head, Nor till it's dark will go to bed. 25 And long before the morning glory Washes the grassy sea, and steeps Each island-holt and promontory In gold and blue, while Vigilas sleeps. Thirsty for love, her way she creeps Into the twilight chill and hoary. And like a homing bird makes flight For Peridore and heart's delight. H so PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 26 As from a sharded chrysalis The dragon-fly of quivering wings Sueth his metamorphosis, So Peridore deliverance brings To Paravail. Unearthly things Open upon her where he is, And all that she has learn'd as yet It seems her business to forget. 27 Even as a faerie wanderer Treads deeplier in the wonder- wood. Seeing at every step more fair The still, enthralled solitude. Attentive what shy creatures brood Or darkly follow everywhere Her steps may tend — so now went she Gossamer'd round in mystery. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 51 28 This love, how wonderful a thing, Which as it older grows, grows younger 1 This lifting heart, this power of wing Which, more you try it, waxes stronger 1 This throbbing zest, this holy hunger, This high flood ever at the spring ! This warmth and cover in all weathers. Safe under Peridore's breast-feathers I 29 A charter'd bondslave, now she walks Valuing herself, held cheap before ; Herself, where goes she, how she talks, Possest unto the heart's deep core 1 Stirring, a wave from Peridore Like a warm tide her utterance baulks ; And if 'tis sweet by's side to swim, 'Tis sweeter still to drown in him 1 52 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 30 Now in her person she takes pride, Sees to a flower-knot for her frock ; Must have her tresses fairly tied, Peers in the dark pool to take stock Of arching eyebrow, random lock. Since such gear is presanctified — How should it not be, tallied o'er, Apprais'd and kist by Peridore ? 31 So ran her days. Yet do not think Grim-favour'd Vigilas grown blind. Who like a barn-owl sat ablink With sear'd eyes in a face belin'd. Scourged by a tempest of the mind. He sat, and felt his sore heart shrink Like a dry nut of last year's fall. Rattling and shrivel'd, parcht and small. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 53 32 By day, by night, he sat aburning, And seem'd to hear his heart's long wail Incessant as the bell-buoy's mourning Heard when a sea-mist clogs the sail. And sight is nought. O Paravail ! O Paravail 1 returning, turning The too-lov'd name of too-lov'd child, Too-dearly rescued from the wild 1 33 There came an autumn dawn when, watching. He heard without a fluted note. And saw her listen, heard her catching Of breath, a quick hand to her throat. With step so light she seem'd to float, He saw her gain the door, unlatching Without a sound — then she was gone. He leapt, and after her, on and on. IV. DEATH IN LIFE I Light as a roe whereas she fled The misty hollows dense with dew, So like a hound the Hermit sped Upon her traces, she in view. Down the grey acres straight and true She flasht, he coursing where she led. Till in a silent grove of trees Doubtful she stay'd. He dropt to his knees. 55 S6 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL With glazed, dull eye he pored her over Where like a shaft of light- she stayed, Such fairy light as seems to hover 'Twixt pine-stems in a woodland glade. But what comes now ? A glancing shade. Whereat the skulker in his cover Felt his dark heart toll like a bell, Of pride and peace the funeral knell. 3 Unto his love those trees among, Unto his darling hovering there There came a shepherd tall and young Whose sunburnt legs and arms were bare ; To him she ran, and her too fair Treasure upon his breast she flung. Lockt heart to heart, he saw him cup Her face, as if he'd drink it up. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 57 4 His heart was choked, as if a bond Was taut about it ; in his neck The veins swell'd up, and like a pond The blood slugged in them slow and thick. A film of orange seem'd to stick Between him and the green beyond. Where in the sun-bedappled dale Peridore kiss'd his Paravail. 5 White were his knuckles, seam'd and fray'd. White were his knees, but all the rest Of him was mottled, splasht and splay'd With crimson of the blood-red West. His gaping mouth was like, a nest Of serpents. Of his eyes were made Two pits of hunger which might raven Prey from the very ramp of Heaven. 58 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 6 Jealousy, Love's unfriendly friend, Which paints with men's own wickedness Those whom they love, and goads them mend By cursing what they "cannot bless ; To wreck what is not to possess Sooner than see another spend — Jealousy now with whip and goad Drove Vigilas the devil's road. 7 Glued to his own abhorrent vision, He needs must watch their dalliance And, like a fever'd wretch in prison Dreaming of water, so enhance His torment. Time and circum- stance Stand still expecting his decision. Not yet, not yet ! He peers and cowers. And all they do his eye devours. PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 59 8 Peridore with his belting arm About her leads her deeplier in The wood, and there, with worship warm, Cherishes her ; remote from sin. As one might woo a seraphin He serves her, innocent of harm. He would as soon befoul the Host, Or rail upon the Holy Ghost. 9 But he who once had been witch- breaker Was now possest by seven devils ; And now knew how the Mischief- maker Can spur to war or wildcat revels. Racing across the rolling levels. His soul became a battle-acre Wherein the ghostly armies strove Of Heavenly lore and human Love. 6o PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL IB That was a dreadful dialogue ! " O Lord, she is mine ; Thou gav'st me her." " Nay, sinner, all are Mine." " This dog Will raven all, and I not stir ! " " How save her so, thou coveter ? " " Lord, if I exorcise the rogue Involv'd with her in lechery ? " " See to it she involve not thee." II " Lord, I am strong, Thou know'st me well." " Tempt me not, Vigilas, my son." " I sav'd her once from fires of Hell." " Wherefore undo what thou hast done ? " " Nay, Lord, I finish what's begun, Let her come back with me to dwell." " Thou art to choose. Is this thy choice ? " " Yea, Lord," says he with croaking voice. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 6i Shuddering he stood, griped in his heat, Stung by his want to eloquence. The which his conscience to defeat Must first convert his native sense ; To which even God's omnipotence Must vail upon the Judgment-Seat. Towards high Heaven he lift his hand And shook it, as it held a brand. 13 " I choose, I choose. The soul I snatcht I will keep fast against the Fiend ; So he shall find himself outmatcht. For sin to me is tilth unglean'd. Then when I have her purg'd and clean'd, Credit me with a soul unscratcht." The round-backt earth lay like a swine In heavy sleep. God sent no sign. 62 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL Back on his tide of rage he strode, Back to the brake where those two lay, And burst upon their ferny abode Like hail upon the buds of May. Affrighted, blencht, afoot stood they, Handfasted still. His mad eyes glow'd To see. " O Sir," the young man said, " Let me with Paravail be wed." 15 Baying on him, " Avoid me, hound, Lest I should strike thee down," he caught Paravail by the wrists, and bound The two together. " Have I taught Thee so amiss, thou good-for-nought. That Legion makes thee seeding-ground .'' Come home with me, O thou accurst. Come home, come home, and do thy worst." PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 63 16 Drooping and caught, with her thin hands Fast bound, and all her radiant hair About her face, whereof the bands Being loost reveal'd her still more fair And still more rifled ; guilty there. Yielding her ravisht heart she stands, As shamed as if, to rob her best. He had dar'd his hand within her vest. 17 No time to nurse her ruth she has ; His lifted hand points out her way. Homeward she slinks, with Vigilas Driving her, as a drover may A new-wean'd calf on market-day With stick to scare her from the grass. Bitter the cud she chew'd and swallow'd — Peridore miserably followed. 64 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL i8 He drave her home, and with a pin Of iron fasten'd up the door, And then began to scourge her sin With mighty clamour and uproar — Torment untold for Peridore, Battering and crying, " Let me in ! " There agonising must he bide. Listening the dreadful work inside. 19 A sky, like metal overhead, Beat back the noise ; the cruel sun From his meridian vantage-stead Mockt at his eyes till his head spun. O high young heart so put upon, O generous blood so freely sped. Pity so prodigally strewn ! He rav'd and cried until 'twas noon. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 6$ 20 At that hour, as his custom was, Out of his hut to pray and scourge His writhen back came Vigilas ; And as in greater need of purge. So now he plied the whistling verge Until his old skin was a mass Of shining torment. " Thus I score," Said he, " the proud flesh I abhor." 21 But the fond youth, beside his wit, Was at the entry, whispering there To his beloved, " O my sweet. Speak but one word to my despair ! " No answer wins he to his pray'r. The house rings hollow as a pit. In misery he lifts his head. Howling, like dog his master dead. 66 PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 22 Back comes the Anchorite, and sees him, Leaps at him, has him by the scrufF ; To earth he pulls him, throws and knees him : " Thou hast done robbery enough — Night-thief, beware ! " The boy is tough, Slips from his grasp, jumps up and flees him A certain distance. There he waits His enemy, present as the Fates. 23 Then Vigilas, irresolute, Remember'd him of that grey beast Which, hiding Satan in a brute, Lay at his threshold and not ceast To snarl and snap. His rage in- creast To pluck this danger at the root. He threw his hands up, swiftly past Into his hut and made all fast. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 67 24 So to it again with potent cries, As round a roof- tree screams the gale, To battle and to terrorise The nested fiend in Paravail : " I know thee. Legion, hoof and tail — Come out, come out, thou Father of Lies ! " Thus challenged he his foe by name And bided answer — but none came. 25 None came. It was more tolerable To hear his cries beat Heaven's door Than in the awful hush, which fell Whenas he stopt, to hear no more. His own heart then to Peridore Tolled like the lonely passing-bell — Adieu, adieu, thou lovely breath 1 Be gentle ; she was gentle. Death. 68 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 26 So this lad, stricken to the marrow, Watcht out the setting of the sun, His young soul broken by the harrow Of this ferocious champion. The cold stars came out one by one ; The sickle moon, sword-bright and narrow, Like a rapt mystic dream'd aloof. But show'd him figures on the roof. 27 Cloven by fear, he saw two shapes. Sharp-nosed, vivacious, chin to chin. Sit straddlewise, and more like apes Than women, ply their hands obscene. With gesture rude and hateful grin They mockt the starlight with their japes. It seemed to him the night grew red. Glowing with shame of what they did. PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 69 28 Then one to t'other, " Fly, Tib, fly," But t'other, " Nay, not yet, not yet. Let us know where old Sanctity Bestows the corpse he howls to get." " Why," says the first, " he wastes his fret. She has no soul. For I was by When the fond fool went out and pluckt Her from the breast ere she had suckt 29 "A month of mother's milk." They rais'd Their wicked heads and nos'd the air ; On high they laught as they were craz'd ; Then with a skip one took a scare And jumpt upright. " Beware, beware," She chattered shrilling, and so blaz'd New horror. One flew first, one after. Flacking their way with mirthless laughter. 70 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 30 He batter'd on the door. " What now ? " Forth came the hermit, grey as fear. " Still dost thou tempt me ? What wouldst thou ? " " Sir," said the youth, " some news of her." " What's she to thee ? " " Alas, good sir, If she do live she's life, I trow, To me, and if she die, I die." " She dies to live," was his harsh cry. 31 Then Peridore, " Sir, give me food. Or I must die." The hermit said, " What matters that ? " yet thought it good To fetch him out a hunch of bread. So man and boy together fed, And Peridore, with strength renew'd, Reported what the witches told — Paravail still but one month old. PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 71 32 " One month, no more, for as they say The soul is drawn from mother's breast. How is she damn'd then ? " "By my fay," Says Vigilas, " but I know best What is her state, and how possest. Seen that my craving has no stay." Says Peridore, " Mayhap 'tis thee Old Legion hath in slavery. 33 " I am a sely shepherd boy, And thou a saint, withal I wis That holy men he can decoy And witch them see the world amiss. For if too full my belly is I see the green earth empty of joy. How then if in sweet Paravail Thou read thyself.-"' The Saint turn'd pale. 72 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 34 " I cannot hear thee ! Therefore, out," Cried he. " The world is stuck with vice. Avaunt, fiends all ; another bout Should win a soul for Paradise." He turn'd within doors ; soon his cries To Heav'n fiU'd all the plain with shout Like battle ; and the lad gone white Howl'd like a dog to the moon's cold light. 35 No more of this. The slow dark creeps Tow'rds dawn, and now a hush falls down On him who rails and him who weeps ; Pity and Mercy find their own. And what of her ? Where is she blown ? In what abysmal heights or deeps Flitteth that newborn child of ruth, Too much lov'd, or too little, in sooth ? PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 73 36 'Twas in the first grey hour of morn Came Vigilas forth from his house, Being to view a soul forlorn, His jaws all loose and cavernous. Mattock and showl he bore, and thus He said in voice grown thin and worn, " Quick, dig a grave, three feet or four ; For Paravail will need no more." V. PERIDORE This word of haste then — this is death ! This terror then — this stabbing dart ! But what is this that chills the breath And drives the blood back from the heart ? What is this worm that gropes apart Within the brain and whispereth ? The sky flam'd o'er the lad, who stood Gaping upon a field of blood. 73 76 PERiDORE AND PARAVAIL But Vigilas with working jowl Says, " Help, for we must dig it quick." He answers not, but takes the showl And sets foot on it. " Take the pick," Says Vigilas, " my soul is sick," And stood there blinking like an owl. " No, no," says Peridore, shivering, " Never the pick. Keep thou the thing." 3 But Vigilas fixt in his lust Would keep the showl, so Peridore Pickt up the turf, and brake the crust Of chalky marl a foot or more, Then stay'd while Vigilas turn'd o'er The clods and shovel'd out the dust. Not ceasing as he wrought to groan Of his late battle, and make moan. PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 77 4 " Once I was tempted by a cur Which at my door would lie and pant : I drave at him, he would not stir ; I slew him, yet he still would haunt The place. I am not ignorant That burying will not rid me her. For Paravail and that grey dog Were both indwelt by the old Rogue. S " Natheless to bury her I choose, Because, so lovely as she seems, I could not bear to see her lose That favour which the world esteems, Though it be false as feverish dreams, Root of all ill and shameful use — Yet, O Lord Christ, I could not bear To see worms fret a thing so fair." 78 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL With that he leapt forth of the pit, Mad with the anguish thinking brought — " Pick deeper, pick it deeper yet, Let her lie too far down for thought. Let her lie hidden as she ought That no remembrance of her flit." Peridore gnaw'd his burning cheek, And drave a foot down with the pick. 7 " She is so little as she lies," Says Vigilas, at his shovelling work, " This grave we dig is oversize ; Yet she will watch me thro' the murk, And wheresoe'er abroad I lurk I shall be haunted by her eyes. For, look you, they are open wide ; I could not shut them, tho' I tried." PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 79 8 Now Peridore, who felt his rage Throb in his neck and make it swell, Dar'd not in pickwork to engage Lest he should wreak a vengeance fell ; And when the man began to tell Of what dark sin she had been cage — " Ha' done," he says, " give me no more Lest you were worse off than before." 9 Then he fell-to and pickt his piece, But Vigilas must grumble and talk ; To drown that voice, his strokes increase, Cleaving long fissures in the chalk. " No load hke this on my life's walk," Says Vigilas, " has tried my knees." The boy looks up with sullen glare In his dark eyes : " Old man, beware." 8o PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL lO " Hey ! " cries the hermit, " have I not Been wary ! Tempted fifteen year — First by a suckling, then by what Seem'd fair a child as you could rear ; Then by a dangerous maiden fere Whose white arms were a strangling knot : What have I done, O God most high ? " " Murder," says Peridore, and lets fly. II Flatlings he smote him, but he lay Prone where he fell, a huddled mass. Reduced to that insensate clay Whereto all flesh must come, and grass. Peridore left him where he was And to the hovel broke away — There he saw Paravail laid out ; Folded within her burial clout. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 8i 12 She made a thin line, east to west, With candles at her head and feet ; A wooden cross was on her breast, Her two hands folded over it. He dar'd not look, her eyes to meet. Which saw some dread not manifest To him ; it was as if she knew What he had done, and what would do. 13 What awful cold communion Holds she behind her staring eyes ? What secret knowledge of deeds done Has she, so heedless, yet so wise That of this day's long agonies She has no memory to shun. But all the past is folded in. And all the clamour, and all the sin ? M 82 PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 14 Peridore stood, while pity gript His heart and terror lockt his teeth ; Astare he stood and ashen-lipt, Looking his first on hapless death. Then his blood gave him steadier breath To dare his work. He kneel'd and dipt His arms beneath her clay - cold clout, Lifted her up and bore her out. 15 Leaping the heedless prostrate man Who lay behuddled on his side, Leaping the slow dark stream which ran Out of a ragged wound and wide ; With neither ruth for homicide, Nor fear of death, nor any plan Save to be lonely with his dead. Clasping her close, he lightly fled. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 83 16 Westward he ran, not knowing where Nor why he went ; but ever so He felt a tumult in the air Threshing behind as he did go — Rage, wild endeavour, frantic woe. Great vanning wings driv'n by despair : He durst not think, he durst not see What kept him fearful company. 17 By hill, by dale, by marsh and pool. By woodside, thro' the gorse and brake He made a way, his two arms full Of his dead love with eyes awake — With open eyes which could not take Their watch from him ; and still a school Of hunting voices foUow'd after With taunts and screams and harrowing laughter. 84 PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL i8 " He hath the soulless child, give chase ! Head off, head off, he seeks the Mount 1 Beware he reach the Hill of Grace Or she the never-staying Fount 1 " Shrill voices which he could not count Like unseen pinions flackt his face. It was like battling thickset briar Or with the writhing spears of fire. 19 But he urged forward none the less With sobbing breath, on tottering knees, His eyes were dimm'd with feebleness. He blunder'd into roots of trees. Light fail'd him ; headlong one of these Brought him to earth, and consciousless Lay freight and sumpter. Hidden there, The coursing tongues swept by on th' air ; PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL 85 20 And Earth and Hell, alike with Heaven, Were blotted out in dreamless sleep ; And whether he were damn'd or shriven He knew not, sous'd in swoon so deep ; Yet his arms held their strenuous keep Of that for which all day he'd striven. So slept he, till his soul did hark The crystal song-spray of the lark. 21 Then slowly to his mind came back The terror and stress of overnight. The purpose of the fell air-pack. The words they shrill'd in their affright. What Hill of Grace had they in sight ? What Fountain could his dead love lack ? Slowly he stretcht himself, and then Stirr'd, to look on the world again. 86 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 22 The sun, high in his dome of blue, Entranced the secrets of the glade Wherein he sat with courage new. Wherein his heart's desire was laid, Staring with fixt eyes unafraid And wan as wax the light shines thro'— Wan, yet so lovely and so pure. He could not deem her dead for sure ; 23 But thought her spirit yet indwelt Her straight slim lines in patience Until the rigid ice should melt Which bound her limbs and palsied sense. If he could draw it out from thence Into himself, then die ! He knelt. And leaning on his finger-tips Near'd with his lips her frozen lips. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 87 24 Even so, he dar'd not put to proof His longing, so his pitifulness Was wrung to see her hold aloof, Smiling her secret to possess. " Ah, tell me more, or tell me less 1 " He cried, and searcht the azure roof Of mortal things which shuts God out From all our misery, care and doubt. 25 Soft on his ears there fell that note Wherewith the wood-dove woos his mate, Bowing and swelling out his throat, A song half soothful, half sedate. Picking a stone, he sent dark fate Remorseless on that head devote. The bird fell dead, and Peridore Stabb'd in its breast and drew the gore. 88 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 26 Therewith her lips and cheeks he toucht, And saw the crimson liquor gleam. He caught his breath, his heart was clutch t, So warm and living did she seem. And what was this, truth or a dream ? Had that been more than blood that smutcht Her marble face ? She breathes, she sighs, And looks on him with living eyes, 27 She lives ! He draws her to him, yearns Over her, feels her limbs relax ; On a slow tide the heat returns Into that pallid form of wax. Closer he clasps — what is't she lacks. Stirring and nozzling ? He discerns This is a babe upon his lap, Seeking the mercies of the pap. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 89 28 Up, Peridore, thy work's to do ! Quest ' like a bird to feed thy chick. Thou hast not what she looketh to, The draught for which her soul is sick ; None the less keep her body quick With grain and berry masht in dew. For long's the way, and steep to trace The stations of the Hill of Grace. 29 At gaze he stands. The brown oak woods Stretch, upward sloping, many a league To hills and wind-washt solitudes. There in the blue — his heart grows big With promise greater than fatigue — There in the blue a high hill broods — The Hill of Grace I Let him not fail Thither to bear his Paravail. N 90 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 30 Brisk as a starling for his young He hunted wide the kindly fruit ; From lush grass - stalks the juice he wrung, Took toll of berry, nut and root. She with no human attribute Of memory, knowledge, mind or tongue. Took what he tender'd, even throve, Yet knew not of him and his love. 31 Hungry, she whimper'd ; fiU'd, she slept ; Fondled, she laught, as children use ; At kissing she was ill adept, Meeting with nerveless lips and loose His own, not knowing to refuse The love he proffer'd, nor accept ; Withal her soulless eyes and clear Marvel'd to find his own so near. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 91 32 So for love's sake he love forswore And purg'd the runnels of his thought, Content to touch her nevermore Once to the Fountain safely brought. Thither he urg'd, and she, new- taught. Beside him dared one foot before The other, watching in his face Ever assurance, blame or praise. 33 Now woods gave way to lands swept bare. With open hillsides all of thyme And gold rockrose. A keen hill air And fragrant spoke another clime. The byres and houses seemed of lime And brick unknown ; the fields were fair With unknown flowers ; the children played New games, and hid whenas he stayed. 92 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 34 But ever as they go the hills Grow nearer, and the signs of them Sharper ; more musical the rills, Swifter, more difficult to stem ; And now they touch the mountain's hem Where tumbled rock the valley fills, Where every boulder seems to beat Dry in your face the radiant heat. 35 Now is to breast a long white road. Serpentine in and out the rocks, Whereon the flooding sun lay broad And sharp the savour of the box. Here goats were scatter'd, 'stead of flocks Of sheep, and rivers raced, not flow'd In measur'd eddies ; here the trees Seem'd summer full. Atop he sees PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 93 36 A wonder-prospect — peak on peak Of silent mountains ; fields of snow, A solitude which seemed to speak, So did its exaltation grow Upon the mind. But just below. Look, Peridore ! the place you seek — A shoulder thrusting from the mountain, The precinct of the Endless Fountain. 37 A fair white temple wall'd in shade Of winking leafage, with a court Wherein a gushing wellspring play'd For ever, falling crisp and short Into a basin. 'Tis the port You seek ; your pilgrimage is made. This is the Well where thirsty mouth May win redemption of its drouth. VI. LIFE IN DEATH Half in the shady quiet recess Fram'd by the portal, half without, He stands, holding his faint mistress, Doubtful, but not left long in doubt. A white -rob'd youth comes gravely out As if his errand he could guess — " What seek ye at the Shrine of Grace ? " " Succour — the comfort of this place," 95 96 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL Says Peridore, " for who was dead And is newborn." " Give her to me," The youth replied. Peridore said, " Not so. If I fail, what can ye ? " " Wait then, I come back pres- ently "— So he was told, and bow'd his head, And waited in the drowsy calm Whose peace anointed him like balm. 3 Again the youth stood at the door And beckon'd, "Follow." By his side They travers't many a corridor Empty and long, cool, dusky and wide ; So to an entry, not to bide. But thro* a curtain to a floor All of deep blue. A bed was there j On that a woman of dark hair PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 97 4 And full calm eyes and grave aspect Sat, in a loose white gown yclad, Which a red girdle did collect About her. No more robe she had Than that. " Ask here," then said the lad, " That which you need." " Lady, pro- tect This shelterless," says Peridore, " And feed this starving of your store." S Then said that still -voiced lady, " Bring The child ; " so to her knees, as bidden, He led his love, as wan a thing As snow in shadow'd valley hidden. Listless and vague and heavy-lidden She stood, like bird with broken wing Which has no quarrel with the Fates But hopeless, helpless, doom awaits. 98 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 6 There as she sway'd, her ebbing sap Fail'd her ; she droopt, but as she slid The lady drew her to her lap And there supporting her, undid Her girdle, and the treasure hid Laid bare, the swelling beauteous pap. Paravail lay, her lips aswoon In touching distance of their boon. 7 Shadowing her face with her own face, The lady whispers bidding words : Peridore knows not what she says, But his love's grey lips, like a bird's Thirsting, half-open, pant as girds Her fighting heart for breathing space. The lady stoopt, and as she laid Bosom to mouth, more words she said. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 99 8 Quicklier and yet more urgently, And unto Paravail the teat Offered ; and after striving, she Grappled the fountain of her meat : Murmurs anon, the pulsing beat Of drinking, and the ecstasy Of giver and given fiU'd his ears With rhythm, and his eyes with tears. 9 The usher asks, " Are you con- tent ? " Peridore deeply bows his head. And turning leaves his innocent In a fair way to be soul-fed. Following where his leader led, With prayerful hands and head still bent, He enters in the way of school Of them who serve this holy Rule. loo PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL lO Five moons in full, for nothing less Than six in all will serve to verse A soul into our cage of stress, Lay Paravail with her wet nurse. Five moons had Peridore to rehearse The memory of his frowardness ; And losing so his passion-fever, Attain'd to love her more than ever. II For now he learn'd where passion drives, A hot rank wine still on the lees ; And how 'twixt paramours and wives There stands a stage of high degrees, Wherefrom, if one can look, he sees Whither he tends who takes two lives Into one keeping, and of them Hopes to engraft one fruiting stem. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL loi 12 Not by heat only look to increase, Nor think without heat to ensure it. You have no love who have no peace. And find no peace who not inure it. Love fallen sick, you cannot cure it; Labour to love is love's surcease ; Nor deign to salve your body's smart Upon her own who has your heart. 13 Nay, rather, but let holy zeal To make of two a perfect whole Possess you. Be it yours to seal Your impress on her melting soul; Or she th' unwritten virgin scroll Your high intention to reveal — And so fulfil the sacred pact You made, by sacramental act. I02 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 14 Learning, he grew to man from lad ; And now instead of clogging thirst, Desire for Paravail he had Saner than what he felt at first. Now let him face the best and worst Fortune may send him ! and be glad With her — not elf, but very woman. The lovelier for being human. 15 So in the first flush of the year When springtime veils in green the earth. She is restored, an argoseer To ship the burden of his worth. They clasp, they kiss with holy mirth. And turn their homefaring to steer. Obedient, chaste, presanctified. Grown man and woman side by side. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 103 16 Taller she seem'd, who had been small, Strong once, now lax and delicate ; Her eyes were grave and mild, her call Low and yet urgent : the dove's mate Churrs in the heat no more sedate Than she, and no more musical. She who had once been tann'd and hale By weather, now went honey-pale. 17 And where of old she leapt to his arms, And eager quested for his kiss, Taking no thought to hoard her charms. Seeing in clipping nought amiss. Now she denied his crowning bliss Till darkness cover'd her alarms ; But then her kindness made amends. So all is well that so well ends. I04 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL i8 Forth fare those pilgrims level- breasted Towards the land that rear'd them ; so They leave the uplands many-crested, Going out one who went in two. One trial more remains to do. That Heaven's good law be mani- fested — Patience a last time ; Heaven has A saving deed for Vigilas. 19 Hard by the verges of the Plain Whereto at length the travellers come, A murky eve of drifting rain Warns Peridore not hope for home ; He sees the wall'd town with its dome ^nd thither turns his rest to gain. Gentle beside him, within touch. Goes she for whom he'd dared so much. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 105 20 Now in a strait and empty street Whenas they sought their night's repair Two woebegones they chanced to meet, With hungry eyes, as if despair Like an old spider sat in there And slow thereof did drink and eat ; Who as the wedded lovers near'd From a dark entry watcht and peer'd. 21 " This is the youth who snatcht from sin Paravail's soul, the Hermit's lass. Stand fast, it may be we can spin A web for our Lord Satanas, Wherein when he encompast has The two, his bounty we shall win. Come now, denounce we to the Mayor Vigilas' lure, and eke his slayer." io6 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 22 So as our pair in nuptial sleep, Cling, her fair cheek to his laid close, Harsh clamour wakes him forth to leap And face an entry hot with foes : Torches aflare, voices like blows Upon the face. In vain to keep The door. They fill the room to choke With hatred, cruelty, lust and smoke. ' 23 " Sirs," said the young man, " what would ye ? " " Life for a life, the rope, the fire ! " Was cried on him. " The rope for thee, And for the witch the torch and pyre." White stands he up, he is no liar : " Sirs, I am guilty, but not she." " Thief, 'twas for her thou tookst a life. To win a scandalous witch for wife." PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 107 24 Fast now in common jail he lies, So new made free of this good earth ; While she must judge with temperate eyes What women be who sell their worth ; Or to what ends we turn our birth, Our heritage and our cognize Of good and evil. Clay and God Contend for us — we hug the clod. ^5 Now he stands facing his array, Nor will deny the deed he did. 'Tis testified he dared to slay The man of God. He bows his head. " I deem the fortunate earth well rid Of one who turn'd a child's face grey," Says Peridore, " and am content To pay the price. It is well spent." io8 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 26 The rope for him and gallows tree, For her the faggot and the flame ! One shall the other's torment see, And each subserve a common shame ; Withal their doomsday when it came Brought Vigilas to set them free — Brought Vigilas out like a flail To thresh the seed of his own bale. 27 Into the market-place he strode, His passion working like a yeast ; There was no man to bar his road Or turn him from his bitter tryst. " O ye," he cried, hoarse as the beast Which shepherds fear when fields are snow'd, " Loose me that maid " — and it is done ; " And loose me him " — his gyves are gone. PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 109 28 " Lo, how vainglory thought to save This my vile carcase, thin and old ! " Said he. " Yet what is left I crave For rope and fire, if fire be bold To jump ere rope hath taken hold, And rope care not which fill the grave. Then let old Legion find it well To hob and nob with me in Hell. 29 " Have at him there in sulphurous field, Since so he will, and may God wite Which one of us to other yield In what shall be my utmost fight. For he shall meet a peer this night Who hath no need of spear or shield. If for his pleasure I go down, I will abide there for mine own. no PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 30 " If God be glorified in Heaven, In Hell also shall He be prais'd ; And if those bolted doors be riven, And those indurate gateposts razed, Then let the damned look up amazed, In fair way to be school'd and shriven By me, the first since Christ was Lord To harrow Hell with holy word." 31 Further he said, " Knot well your rope About this leathery neck, to be A sign to Legion not to hope That Death may claim a victory. Now heap the fire and set me free From this old cage wherein I grope Too long." So perisht Vigilas — Even as he liv'd so his end was. PERIDORE AND PARA VAIL iii 32 And men say from the blue fell down A shower of red rose-leaves, and lay On Paravailj and made a crown Upon her hair. And next they say That from the crackling fire a grey And solemn bird lift o'er the town, And up and ever upward soar'd. Till lightning flashed like a bare sword, 33 And it was gone. The thunder then Peal'd admonition to the host Of pale and wondering, gazing men From Vigilas' accepted ghost. As for the lovers, how they crost The plain and vanisht too from ken. Ask me not tell the quiet regale Of Peridore and Paravail. 1 12 PERIDORE AND PARAVAIL 34 The uttermost that men report Prophetic or of heart's desire Comes to no prize of rarer sort Than lies half-trodden in the mire Beside the road, or hangs no higher Than any man by stretching for't May grasp — ^yet so deals man with man, How many have graspt since time began ? 35 Or having graspt, how many have guess'd Themselves enricht beyond compute In wife to cherish breast to breast, In children faithful to their root, In forthright work whereby to fruit The plunder'd earth and win good rest ? Hereof, the tale saith, Peridore, Having his arms full, crav'd no more. Printed hy R. & R. Clark, Limited, Edinburgh.