But Sleep, who makes a mist about the sense, Doth ope the eyelids of the soul, and thence Lifteth a heavier cloud than that whereby He veils the vision of the fleshly eye.
And not alone by dreams doth Sleep make known The sealèd things and covert — not alone In visions of the night do mortals hear The fatal feet and whispering wings draw near;
But dimly and in darkness doth the soul Drink of the streams of slumber as they roll, And win fine secrets from their waters deep: Yea, of a truth, the spirit doth grow in sleep.
Howbeit I know not whether as he slept A voice from out the depth of dream upleapt And whispered in his ear; or whether he Grew to the knowledge blindly, as a tree
Waxes from bloom to fruitage, knowing not The manner of its growth: but this I wot, That rising from that sleep beside the spring The Prince had knowledge of a certain thing
Whereof he had not wist until that hour — To wit, that two contending spirits had power Over his spirit, ruling him with sway Altern; as‘ twere dominion now of Day
And now of Dark; for one was of the light, And one was of the blackness of the night. Now there be certain evil spirits whom The mother of the darkness in her womb
Conceived ere darkness’ self; and one of these Did rule that island of the middle seas Hemmed round with silence and enchantment dim. Nothing in all the world so pleasured him
As filling human hearts with dolorousness And banning where another sprite did bless; But chiefly did his malice take delight In thwarting lovers’ hopes and breathing blight
Into the blossoms newly-openèd Of sweet desire, till all of sweet were fled: And ( for he knew what secret hopes did fill The minds of men )‘ twas even now his will
To step between the Prince and his desire, Nor suffer him to fare one furlong nigher Unto that distant-shining golden goal That beacon'd through the darkness to his soul.
And so the days, the sultry summer days, Went by, and wimpled over with fine haze The noiseless nights stole after them, as steals The moon-made shadow at some traveller's heels.
And day by day and night by night the Prince Dwelt in that island of enchantment, since The hour when Evil Hap, in likeness of An eagle swooping from the clouds above,
Did bind him body and soul unto that place. And in due time the summer waxed apace, And in due time the summer waned: and now The withered leaf had fallen from the bough,
And now the winter came and now the spring; Yea, summer's self was toward on the wing From wandering overseas: and all this while The Prince abode in that enchanted isle,
Marvelling much at Fortune and her ways. And by degrees the slowly-sliding days Gathered themselves together into years, And oftentimes his spirit welled in tears
From dawn to darkness and from dark to dawn, By reason of the light of life withdrawn. And if the night brought sleep, a fitful sleep, The phantoms of a buried time would creep
Out of their hollow hiding-places vast, Peopling his Present from the wizard Past. Sometimes between the whirl of dream and dream, All in a doubtful middle-world, a gleam
Went shivering past him through the chill grey space, And lo he knew it for his mother's face, And wept; and all the silence where he stood Wept with him. And at times the dreamer would
Dream himself back beneath his father's roof At eventide, and there would hold aloof In silence, clothed upon with shadows dim, To hear if any spake concerning him;
But the hours came and went and went and came, And no man's mouth did ever name his name. And year by year he saw the queen and king Wax older, and beheld a shadowy thing
Lurking behind them, till it came between His dreamsight and the semblance of the queen, From which time forth he saw her not: and when Another year had been it came again,
And after that he saw his sire the king No more, by reason of the shadowy thing Stepping between; and all the place became As darkness, and the echo of a name.
What need to loiter o'er the chronicle Of days that brought no change? What boots it tell The tale of hours whereof each moment was As like its fellow as one blade of grass
Is to another, when the dew doth fall Without respect of any amongst them all? Enow that time in that enchanted air Nor slept nor tarried more than otherwhere,
And so at last the captive lived to see The fiftieth year of his captivity. And on a day within that fiftieth year He wandered down unto the beach, to hear
The breaking of the breakers on the shore, As he had heard them ofttimes heretofore In days when he would sit and watch the sea, If peradventure there some ship might be.
But now his soul no longer yearned as then To win her way back to the world of men: For what could now his freedom profit him? The hope that filled youth's beaker to its brim
The tremulous hand of age had long outspilled, And whence might now the vessel be refilled? Moreover, after length of days and years The soul had ceased to beat her barriers,
And like a freeborn bird that cagèd sings Had grown at last forgetful of her wings. And so he took his way toward the sea — Not, as in former days, if haply he
Might spy some ship upon the nether blue, And beckon with his hands unto the crew, But rather with an easeful heart to hear What things the waves might whisper to his ear
Of counsel wise and comfortable speech. But while he walked about the yellow beach, There came upon his limbs an heaviness, For languor of the sultry time's excess;
And so he lay him down under a tree Hard by a little cove, and there the sea Sang him to sleep. And sleeping thus, he dreamed A dream of very wonderment: himseemed,
The spirit that half an hundred years before In likeness of an eagle came and bore His body to that island on a day, Came yet again and found him where he lay,
And taking him betwixt his talons flew O'er seas and far-off countries, till they drew Nigh to a city that was built between Four mountains in a pleasant land and green;
And there upon the highest mountain's top The bird that was no bird at all let drop Its burthen, and was seen of him no more. Thereat he waked, and issuing from the door
Of dream did marvel in his heart; because He found he had but dreamed the thing that was: For there, assuredly, was neither sea Nor Isle Enchanted; and assuredly
He sat upon the peak of a great hill; And far below him, looking strangely still, Uptowered a city exceeding fair to ken, And murmurous with multitude of men.
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