No More Learning

Up on the hills not a soul in view,
In a vale not many nor few;
Leaves, still leaves, and nothing new.
It's oh for a second maiden, at least,
To bear the flagon, and taste it too,
And flavour the feast. 300

Lagging he moved, and apt to swerve;
Lazy of limb, but quick of nerve.
At length the water-bed took a curve,
The deep river swept its bankside bare;
Waters streamed from the hill-reserve--
Waters here, waters there.

High above, and deep below,
Bursting, bubbling, swelling the flow,
Like hill torrents after the snow,--
Bubbling, gurgling, in whirling strife, 310
Swaying, sweeping, to and fro,--
He must swim for his life.

Which way? --which way? --his eyes grew dim
With the dizzying whirl--which way to swim?
The thunderous downshoot deafened him;
Half he choked in the lashing spray:
Life is sweet, and the grave is grim--
Which way? --which way?

A flash of light, a shout from the strand:
'This way--this way; here lies the land! ' 320
His phial clutched in one drowning hand;
He catches--misses--catches a rope;
His feet slip on the slipping sand:
Is there life? --is there hope?

Just saved, without pulse or breath,--
Scarcely saved from the gulp of death;
Laid where a willow shadoweth--
Laid where a swelling turf is smooth.
(O Bride!
but the Bridegroom lingereth
For all thy sweet youth. ) 330

Kind hands do and undo,
Kind voices whisper and coo:
'I will chafe his hands'--'And I'--'And you
Raise his head, put his hair aside. '
(If many laugh, one well may rue:
Sleep on, thou Bride. )

So the Prince was tended with care:
One wrung foul ooze from his clustered hair;
Two chafed his hands, and did not spare;
But one held his drooping head breast-high, 340
Till his eyes oped, and at unaware
They met eye to eye.

Oh, a moon face in a shadowy place,
And a light touch and a winsome grace,
And a thrilling tender voice that says:
'Safe from waters that seek the sea--
Cold waters by rugged ways--
Safe with me. '

While overhead bird whistles to bird,
And round about plays a gamesome herd: 350
'Safe with us'--some take up the word--
'Safe with us, dear lord and friend:
All the sweeter if long deferred
Is rest in the end. '

Had he stayed to weigh and to scan,
He had been more or less than a man:
He did what a young man can,
Spoke of toil and an arduous way--
Toil to-morrow, while golden ran
The sands of to-day. 360

Slip past, slip fast,
Uncounted hours from first to last,
Many hours till the last is past,
Many hours dwindling to one--
One hour whose die is cast,
One last hour gone.

Come, gone--gone for ever--
Gone as an unreturning river--
Gone as to death the merriest liver--
Gone as the year at the dying fall-- 370
To-morrow, to-day, yesterday, never--
Gone once for all.

Came at length the starting-day,
With last words, and last words to say,
With bodiless cries from far away--
Chiding wailing voices that rang
Like a trumpet-call to the tug and fray;
And thus they sang:

'Is there life? --the lamp burns low;
Is there hope? --the coming is slow: 380
The promise promised so long ago,
The long promise, has not been kept.
Does she live? --does she die? --she slumbers so
Who so oft has wept.

'Does she live?