for. 
Yet what gifts have I given them; I who this even
Turn away with grim face from the fight that should try me? 
It is just then, I have lost:  lie down, thou supplanter,
In thy tomb in the minster when thy life is well over,
And the well-carven image of latten laid o’er thee
Shall live on as thou livedst, and be worthy the praising
Whereby folk shall remember the days of thy plenty. 
Praising Theobald the Good and the peace that he brought them,
But I—­I shall live too, though no graven image
On the grass of the hillside shall brave the storms’ beating;
Though through days of thy plenty the people remember
As a dim time of war the past days of King Pharamond;
Yet belike as time weareth, and folk turn back a little
To the darkness where dreams lie and live on for ever,
Even there shall be Pharamond who failed not in battle,
But feared to overcome his folk who forgot him,
And turned back and left them a tale for the telling,
A song for the singing, that yet in some battle
May grow to remembrance and rend through the ruin
As my sword rent it through in the days gone for ever. 
So, like Enoch of old, I was not, for God took me. 
—­But lo, here is Oliver, all draws to an ending—­
                                 [Enter OLIVER.
Well met, my Oliver! the clocks strike the due minute,
What news hast thou got?—­thou art moody of visage.

MASTER OLIVER

In one word, ’tis battle; the days we begun with
Must begin once again with the world waxen baser.

KING PHARAMOND

Ah! battle it may be:  but surely no river
Runneth back to its springing:  so the world has grown wiser
And Theobald the Constable is king in our stead,
And contenteth the folk who cried, “Save us, King Pharamond!”

MASTER OLIVER

Hast thou heard of his councillor men call Honorius? 
Folk hold him in fear, and in love the tale hath it.

KING PHARAMOND.

Much of him have I heard:  nay, more, I have seen him
With the men of my household, and the great man they honour. 
They were faring afield to some hunt or disporting,
Few faces were missing, and many I saw there
I was fain of in days past at fray or at feasting;
My heart yearned towards them—­but what—­days have changed them,
They must wend as they must down the way they are driven.

MASTER OLIVER

Yet e’en in these days there remaineth a remnant
That is faithful and fears not the flap of thy banner.

KING PHARAMOND

And a fair crown is faith, as thou knowest, my father;
Fails the world, yet that faileth not; love hath begot it,
Sweet life and contentment at last springeth from it;
No helping these need whose hearts still are with me,
Nay, rather they handle the gold rod of my kingdom.