Part VIII

Now as it chanced, the day was almost spentWhen down the lonely mountain-side he went,The whitehaired man, the Prince that was; and ereHe won the silence of the valley whereThe city's many towers uprose, the gateWas closed against him, for the hour was late.So even as they that have not wherewithalTo roof them from the rain if it should fall,Upon the grassy ground this king's son lay,And slept till nigh the coming of the day.

But while as any vagabond he sleptOr outcast from the homes of men, there creptUnto him lying in such sorry sortA something fairer than the kingliest courtIn all the peopled world had witness of--Even the shadow of the throne of Love,That from a height beyond all height did creepAlong the pavement of the halls of sleep.O fair and wonderful! that shadow wasThe golden dream of dreams that came acrossHis youth, full half an hundred years before,And sent him wandering through the world. Once moreIn a lone boat that sails and oars had none,Midmost a land of summer and the sunWhere nothing was that was not fair to see,Adown a gliding river glided he,And saw the city that was built thereby,And saw the chariot of the queen draw nigh,And gazed upon her in the goodly street;Whereat he waked and rose upon his feet,Remembering the Vision of the Seer,And what the spirit spake unto his ear:"When in thy wanderings thou shalt dream once moreThe fateful dream thou haddest heretofore,That filled thy veins with longing as with wineTill all thy being brimm'd over--by that signThou mayest know thyself at last to beWithin the borders of his emperyWho hath the mystic emerald stone, whose gleamShall light thee to the country of thy dream."

Then rose the heart within his heart and said:"O bitter scornful Fate, in days long deadI asked and thou denied'st mine asking: nowThe boon can no-wise profit me, and thouDost mock me with bestowal!" ThereuponHe fell to thinking of his youthhood gone,And wept. For now the goal, the longtime-sought,Was even at hand, "but how shall I," he thought,"I that am old and sad and hoary-haired,Enter the place for youth and love prepared?For in my veins the wellspring of desireHath failed, and in mine heart the golden fireBurneth no more for ever. I draw nearThe night that is about our day, and hearThe sighing of the darkness as I goWhose ancient secret there is none doth know."

Ev'n so to his own heart he spake full sad,And many and bitter were the thoughts he hadOf days that were and days that were to be.But now the East was big with dawn, and heDrew nigh the city-gates and entered in,Ere yet the place remurmured with the dinOf voices and the tread of human feet;And going up the void and silent street,All in the chill gleam of the new-lit air,A Thought found way into his soul, and thereAbode and grew, and in brief while becameDesire, and quickened to a quenchless flame:And holding converse with himself, he said,"Though in my heart the heart's desire be dead,And can no more these time-stilled pulses move;Though Death were lovelier to these eyes than LoveYet would these eyes behold, or ere I pass,The land that mirror'd lay as in a glassIn the deep wells of dream. And her that isThe sunlight of that city of all bliss,Her would I fain see once with waking eyesWhom sleep hath rendered unto vision twice.And having seen her beauty I would goMy way, even to the river which doth flowFrom daylight unto darkness and the placeOf silence, where the ghosts are face to face."

So mused the man, and evermore his thoughtGave him no peace. Wherefore next morn he soughtThe palace of the king, but on his wayTarried till nigh the middle of the dayIn talk with certain of the city-folk;Whereby he learned, if that were true they spoke,How that the king their lord was nigh distractWith torture of a strange disease that rackedEach day his anguished body more and more,Setting at naught the leeches and their lore.Which having heard he went before the king,Who sat upon his throne, deliveringJudgment, his body pierced the while with pain.And taking from his neck the charmèd chainWhich he had borne about him ever sinceThat morn miraculous, the unknown PrinceUpspake and said, "O king, I hold withinMy hand a wonder-working medicineOf power to make thee whole if thou wilt deignSo to be healèd;" and he held the chainAloft, and straightway told unto the kingThe passing worth and wonder of the thing.

Then he that heard stretched forth a hand that shookWith sudden fever of half-hope, and tookThe chain, and turned it over in his handUntil his eyes had left no link unscanned.And on each separate link was character'dA language that no living ear had heard,Occult, of secret import, mystic, strange.Then said the king, "What would'st thou in exchangeFor this the magic metal thou dost bring?"And the Prince answered him and said, "O king,Even the emerald stone which some do callThe Emerald of the Virtues Mystical."And they who thronged the hall of judgment wereAstonished at the stranger who could dareAsk such a boon; and some base mouths did curlWith sneers, churl whispering to his fellow churl,"Who could have deemed the man so covetous,So void of shame in his great greed?" For thusIt shall be ever underneath the sun,Each man believing that high hearts are noneWhose own is as the dust he treads on low.

But the king answered saying, "Be it so.To-night this chain of iron shall be wornAbout my neck, and on the morrow-morn,If all the pain have left these limbs of mine,The guerdon thou demandest shall be thine.But if this torment still tormenteth me,Thy head and shoulders shall part company,And both be cast uncoffin'd to the worms.Open thy mouth and answer if these termsContent thee." And aloud the Prince replied,"With these conditions I am satisfied:"Whereafter, rising from his knees, he wentOut from before the king, and was content.

Next morning, when the king awoke, I wisNo heart was lighter in the land than his;For all the grievous burden of his painsHad fall'n from off his limbs, and in his veinsUpleapt the glad new life, and the sick soulSeemed like its body all at once made whole.But hardly was the king uprisen beforeThere knock'd and entered at the chamber-doorHis chief physician (a right skilful leech,But given to hollow trickeries of speech,And artful ways and wiles) who said, "O king,Be not deceived, I pray thee. One good thingComes of another, like from like. The weedBeareth not lilies, neither do apes breedAntelopes. Thou art healed of thy painNot by the wearing of an iron chain--An iron chain forsooth!"--(hereat he laughedAs 'twere a huge rare jest) "but by the draughtWhich I prepared for thee with mine own handsFrom certain precious simples grown in landsIt irks me tell how many leagues away:Which medicine thou tookest yesterday."

Then said the king, "O false and jealous man,Who lovest better thine own praises thanThy master's welfare! Little 'tis to suchAs thou, that I should be made whole; but muchThat men should go before thee, trumpeting"'Behold the man that cured our lord the king.'"And he was sore displeased and in no moodTo hearken. But the chief physician stoodUnmoved amid this hail of kingly scorn,With meek face martyr-like, as who hath borneMuch in the name of Truth, and much can bear.And from the mouth of him false words and fairSo cunningly flowed that in a little whileThe royal frown became a royal smile,And the king hearkened to the leech and wasPersuaded. So that morn it came to passThat when the Prince appeared before the throneTo claim his rightful meed, the emerald stone,The king denied his title to receiveThe jewel, saying, "Think'st thou I believeYon jingling chain hath healed my body? Nay;For whatsoever such as thou may sayI am not found so easy to beguile:As for the gem thou wouldest, this good whileIt hath adorned the crown I wear, nor shallThe stone be parted from the coronal."

Scarce had the false king spoken when beholdThrough the high ceiling's goodly fretted goldA sudden shaft of lightning downward spedAnd smote the golden crown upon his head,Yea, melted ev'n as wax the golden crown.And from the molten metal there fell downA grassgreen Splendour, and the Emerald StoneTumbled from step to step before the throne,And lay all moveless at the Prince's feet!And the king sat upon his royal seatA dead king, marble-mute: but no man stirredOr spake: and only silence might be heard.

Then he before whose feet the gem did lieSaid not a word to any man thereby,But stooped and lifted it from off the floor,And passing outward from the open doorPut the mysterious jewel in his breastAnd went his way, none daring to molestThe stranger. For the whisper rose and ran,"Is not the lightning leaguèd with this man?"