—­And where sought I all this? with what price did I buy it? 
Nay, for thou knowest that this fair fame and fortune
Came stealing soft-footed to give their gifts to me: 
And shall I, who was king once, grow griping and weary
In unclosing the clenched fists of niggards who hold them,
These gifts that I had once, and, having, scarce heeded? 
Nay, one thing I have sought, I have sought and have found it,
And thou, friend, hast helped me and seest me made happy.

MASTER OLIVER

Farewell then the last time, O land of my fathers! 
Farewell, feeble hopes that I once held so mighty. 
Yet no more have I need of but this word that thou sayest,
And nought have I to do but to serve thee, my master. 
In what land of the world shall we dwell now henceforward?

KING PHARAMOND

In the land where my love our returning abideth,
The poor land and kingless of the shepherding people,
There is peace there, and all things this land are unlike to.

MASTER OLIVER

Before the light waneth will I seek for a passage,
Since for thee and for me the land groweth perilous: 
Yea, o’er sweet smell the flowers, too familiar the folk seem,
Fain I grow of the salt seas, since all things are over here.

KING PHARAMOND

I am fain of one hour’s farewell in the twilight,
To the times I lament not:  times worser than these times,
To the times that I blame not, that brought on times better—­
Let us meet in our hostel—­be brave mid thy kindness,
Let thy heart say, as mine saith, that fair life awaits us.

MASTER OLIVER

Yea, no look in thy face is of ruin, O my master;
Thou art king yet, unchanged yet, nor is my heart changing;
The world hath no chances to conquer thy glory.
                                           [Exit OLIVER

KING PHARAMOND

Full fair were the world if such faith were remembered. 
If such love as thy love had its due, O my fosterer. 
Forgive me that giftless from me thou departest,
With thy gifts in my hands left.  I might not but take them;
Thou wilt not begrudge me, I will not forget thee.—­
—­Long fall the shadows and night draws on apace now,
Day sighs as she sinketh back on to her pillow,
And her last waking breath is full sweet with the rose. 
—­In such wise depart thou, O daylight of life,
Loved once for the shadows that told of the dreamtide;
Loved still for the longing whereby I remember
That I was lone once in the world of thy making;
Lone wandering about on thy blind way’s confusion,
The maze of thy paths that yet led me to love.