65
Through their blood, and binds their souls,
Working love, but working teen deg.?--. deg.67
There were two Iseults who did sway
Each her hour of Tristram's day;
But one possess'd his waning time, 70
The other his resplendent prime.
Behold her here, the patient flower,
Who possess'd his darker hour!
Iseult of the Snow-White Hand
Watches pale by Tristram's bed. 75
She is here who had his gloom,
Where art thou who hadst his bloom?
One such kiss as those of yore
Might thy dying knight restore!
Does the love-draught work no more? 80
Art thou cold, or false, or dead,
Iseult of Ireland?

* * * * *

Loud howls the wind, sharp patters the rain,
And the knight sinks back on his pillows again.
He is weak with fever and pain; 85
And his spirit is not clear.
Hark! he mutters in his sleep,
As he wanders deg. far from here, deg.88
Changes place and time of year,
And his closed eye doth sweep 90
O'er some fair unwintry sea, deg. deg.91
Not this fierce Atlantic deep,
While he mutters brokenly:--

_Tristram_. The calm sea shines, loose hang the vessel's sails;
Before us are the sweet green fields of Wales, 95
And overhead the cloudless sky of May.--
_"Ah, would I were in those green fields at play,
Not pent on ship-board this delicious day!
Tristram, I pray thee, of thy courtesy,
Reach me my golden phial stands by thee, 100
But pledge me in it first for courtesy."_--
Ha! dost thou start? are thy lips blanch'd like mine?
Child, 'tis no true draught this, 'tis poison'd wine!
Iseult!...

* * * * *

Ah, sweet angels, let him dream! 105
Keep his eyelids! let him seem
Not this fever-wasted wight
Thinn'd and paled before his time,
But the brilliant youthful knight
In the glory of his prime, 110
Sitting in the gilded barge,
At thy side, thou lovely charge,
Bending gaily o'er thy hand,
Iseult of Ireland!
And she too, that princess fair, 115
If her bloom be now less rare,
Let her have her yout