Or else his name upon the same wind borne
As smote the world with winding of his horn,
His hood pulled back, his banner flung abroad,
A gleam of sunshine on his half-drawn sword. 
—­Well, he and you and I have little skill
To know the secret of Fate’s worldly will;
Yet can I guess, and you belike may guess,
Yea, and e’en he mid all his lordliness,
That much may be forgot in three years’ space
Outside my kingdom.—­Gone his godlike face,
His calm voice, and his kindness, half akin
Amid a blind folk to rebuke of sin,
Men ’gin to think that he was great and good,
But hindered them from doing as they would,
And ere they have much time to think on it
Between their teeth another has the bit,
And forth they run with Force and Fate behind. 
—­Indeed his sword might somewhat heal the blind,
Were I not, and the softness I have given;
With me for him have hope and glory striven
In other days when my tale was beginning;
But sweet life lay beyond then for the winning,
And now what sweetness?—­blood of men to spill
Who once believed him God to heal their ill: 
To break the gate and storm adown the street
Where once his coming flower-crowned girls did greet: 
To deem the cry come from amidst his folk
When his own country tongue should curse his stroke—­
Nay, he shall leave to better men or worse
His people’s conquered homage and their curse.

So forth they go, his Oliver and he,
One thing at least to learn across the sea,
That whatso needless shadows life may borrow
Love is enough amidst of joy or sorrow.

Love is enough—­My Faithful, in your eyes
I see the thought, Our Lord is overwise
Some minutes past in what concerns him not,
And us no more:  is all his tale forgot? 
—­Ah, Well-beloved, I fell asleep e’en now,
And in my sleep some enemy did show
Sad ghosts of bitter things, and names unknown
For things I know—­a maze with shame bestrown
And ruin and death; till e’en myself did seem
A wandering curse amidst a hopeless dream. 
—­Yet see!  I live, no older than of old,
What tales soe’er of changing Time has told. 
And ye who cling to all my hand shall give,
Sorrow or joy, no less than I shall live.

Scene:  Before KING PHARAMOND’S Palace.

KING PHARAMOND

A long time it seems since this morn when I met them,
The men of my household and the great man they honour: 
Better counsel in king-choosing might I have given
Had ye bided my coming back hither, my people: 
And yet who shall say or foretell what Fate meaneth? 
For that man there, the stranger, Honorius men called him,
I account him the soul to King Theobald’s body,
And the twain are one king; and a goodly king may be
For this people, who grasping at peace and good days,
Careth little who giveth them that which they long