Part 2 — CLXIV

Year after year unto her feet, She lying on her couch alone, Across the purple coverlet, The maiden's jet-black hair has grown, On either side her tranced form Forth streaming from a braid of pearl: The slumbrous light is rich and warm, And moves not on the rounded curl.

The silk star-broider'd coverlid Unto her limbs itself doth mould, Languidly ever; and, amid Her full black ringlets downward roll'd, Glows forth each softly shadow'd arm With bracelets of the diamond bright: Her constant beauty doth inform Stillness with love, and day with light.

She sleeps: her breathings are not heard In palace chambers far apart. The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd, That lie upon her charmed heart. She sleeps: on either hand upswells The gold-fringed pillow lightly press'd: She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells A perfect form in perfect rest.

A touch, a kiss! the charm was snapt, There rose a noise of striking clocks, And feet that ran and doors that clapt, And barking dogs, and crowing cocks; A fuller light illumin'd all, A breeze through all the garden swept, A sudden hubbub shook the hall, And sixty feet the fountain leapt.

The hedge broke in, the banner blew, The butler drank, the steward scrawl'd, The fire shot up, the martin flew, The parrot scream'd, the peacock squall'd, The maid and page renew'd their strife, The palace bang'd and buzz'd and clackt, And all the long pent stream of life Dash'd downward in a cataract.

And last with these the king awoke, And in his chair himself uprear'd, And yawn'd, and rubb'd his face, and spoke, 'By holy rood, a royal beard! How say you? we have slept, my lords. My beard has grown into my lap.' The barons swore, with many words, 'Twas but an after-dinner's nap.

'Pardy,' return'd the king, 'but still My joints are something stiff or so. My Lord, and shall we pass the bill I mention'd half an hour ago?' The chancellor sedate and vain In courteous words return'd reply: But dallied with his golden chain, And, smiling, put the question by.