King Pharamond

A long time it seems since this morn when I met them, The men of my household and the great man they honour: Better counsel in king-choosing might I have given Had ye bided my coming back hither, my people: And yet who shall say or foretell what Fate meaneth? For that man there, the stranger, Honorius men called him, I account him the soul to King Theobald's body, And the twain are one king; and a goodly king may be For this people, who grasping at peace and good days, Careth little who giveth them that which they long for. Yet what gifts have I given them; I who this even Turn away with grim face from the fight that should try me? It is just then, I have lost: lie down, thou supplanter, In thy tomb in the minster when thy life is well over, And the well-carven image of latten laid o'er thee Shall live on as thou livedst, and be worthy the praising Whereby folk shall remember the days of thy plenty. Praising Theobald the Good and the peace that he brought them, But I--I shall live too, though no graven image On the grass of the hillside shall brave the storms' beating; Though through days of thy plenty the people remember As a dim time of war the past days of King Pharamond; Yet belike as time weareth, and folk turn back a little To the darkness where dreams lie and live on for ever, Even there shall be Pharamond who failed not in battle, But feared to overcome his folk who forgot him, And turned back and left them a tale for the telling, A song for the singing, that yet in some battle May grow to remembrance and rend through the ruin As my sword rent it through in the days gone for ever. So, like Enoch of old, I was not, for God took me. --But lo, here is Oliver, all draws to an ending-- [Enter OLIVER. Well met, my Oliver! the clocks strike the due minute, What news hast thou got?--thou art moody of visage.