No More Learning

THAT WAS MY COUNTER-BLADE UNDER LEONARDO TERRONE, MASTER OF FENCE
i~* ONE while your tastes were keen to you, \J Gone where the grey winds call to you,
By that high fencer, even Death,
Struck of the blade that no man parrieth;
Such is your fence, one saith, One that hath known you.
Drew you your sword most gallantly, Made you your pass most valiantly
'Gainst that grey fencer, even Death.
Gone as a gust of breath
Faith ! no man tarrieth,
"Se il cor ti manca" but it failed thee not!
"Non tifidar" it is the sword that speaks
1
Thou trusted'st in thyself and met the blade Thout mask or gauntlet, and art laid
As memorable broken blades that be
Kept as bold trophies of old pageantry.
As old Toledos past their days of war
Are kept mnemonic of the strokes they bore,
So art thou with us, being good to keep
In our heart's sword-rack, though thy sword-arm
sleep.
ENVOI
Struck of the blade that no man parrieth,
Pierced of the point that toucheth lastly all,
'Gainst that grey fencer, even Death,
Behold the shield ! He shall not take thee all.
1 Sword-rune, " If thy heart fail thee trust not in me. " 19
"In me. "
? BALLAD FOR GLOOM
God, our God, is a gallant foe FOTRhat playeth behind the veil.
I have loved my God as a child at heart That seeketh deep bosoms for rest,
I have loved my God as maid to man, But lo, this thing is best:
To love your God as a gallant foe
that plays behind the veil,
To meet your God as the night winds meet beyond Arcturus' pale.
I have played with God for a woman,
I have staked with my God for truth,
I have lost to my God as a man, clear eyed;
His dice be not of ruth.
For I am made as a naked blade, But hear ye this thing in sooth :
Who loseth to God as man to man Shall win at the turn of the game.
I have drawn my blade where the lightnings meet But the ending is the same:
Who loseth to God as the sword blades lose
Shall win at the end of the game.
For God, our God, is a gallant foe
that playeth behind the veil,
Whom God deigns not to overthrow
hath need of triple mail.
20
? AT THE HEART O' ME A. D. 751
j ever one fear at the heart o me
WITH still sea-coasts Long by
coursed my Grey-Falcon, And the twin delights
of shore and sea were mine, Sapphire and emerald with
fine pearls between.
Through the pale courses of
the land-caressing in-streams Glided my barge and
the kindly strange peoples Gave to me laugh for laugh,
and wine for my tales of wandering. And the cities gave me welcome
and the fields free passage, With ever one fear
j
at the heart o me.
An thou should'st grow weary
ere my returning,
An "they" should call to thee
from out the borderland, What should avail me
booty of whale-ways? What should avail me
gold rings or the chain-mail? What should avail me
the many-twined bracelets? What should avail me,
O my beloved,
21
? At the g ^|j
Here in this "Middan-gard" what should avail me
Out of the booty and gain of my goings?
*
THE TREE
From " A Lume Spento. "
T STOOD still and was a tree amid the wood,
A Knowing the truth of things unseen before; Of Daphne and the laurel bow
And that god-feasting couple old
That grew elm-oak amid the wold.
'T was not until the gods had been
Kindly entreated, and been brought within Unto the hearth of their heart's home That they might do this wonder thing; Nathless I have been a tree amid the wood And many a new thing understood
That was rank folly to my head before.