about the feast
Like doves that cooled, with waving wing,
The banquets of the Cyprian king.
Old shapes of song that do not die
Shall haunt the halls of memory,
And though the Bow shall prelude clear
Shrill as the song of Gunnar's spear,
There answer sobs from lute and lyre
That murmured of The World's Desire.

* * * * *

There lives no man but he hath seen
The World's Desire, the fairy queen.
None but hath seen her to his cost,
Not one but loves what he has lost.
None is there but hath heard her sing
Divinely through his wandering;
Not one but he has followed far
The portent of the Bleeding Star;
Not one but he hath chanced to wake,
Dreamed of the Star and found the Snake.
Yet, through his dreams, a wandering fire,
Still, still she flits, THE WORLD'S DESIRE!

BOOK I

I

THE SILENT ISLE

Across the wide backs of the waves, beneath the mountains, and between
the islands, a ship came stealing from the dark into the dusk, and from
the dusk into the dawn. The ship had but one mast, one broad brown sail
with a star embroidered on it in gold; her stem and stern were built
high, and curved like a bird's beak; her prow was painted scarlet, and
she was driven by oars as well as by the western wind.

A man stood alone on the half-deck at the bows, a man who looked always
forward, through the night, and the twilight, and the clear morning. He
was of no great stature, but broad-breasted and very wide-shouldered,
with many signs of strength. He had blue eyes, and dark curled locks
falling beneath a red cap such as sailors wear, and over a purple cloak,
fastened with a brooch of gold. There were threads of silver in his
curls, and his beard was flecked with white. His whole heart was
following his eyes, watching first for the blaze of the island beacons
out of the darkness, and, later, for the smoke rising from the far-off
hills. But he watched in vain; there was neither light nor smoke on the
grey peak that lay clear against a field of yellow sky.

There was no smoke, no fire, no sound of voices, nor cry of birds. The
isle was deadly still.

As they neared the coast, and neither heard nor saw a sign of life, the
man's face fell. The gladness went out of his eyes, his features grew
older with anxiety and doubt, and with longing for tidings of his home.

No man ever loved his home more than he,