38
THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS.
Far away stretched the royal land,
Fed by dew, by a spice-wind fanned
Light labour more, and his foot would stand
On the threshold, all labour done;
Easy pleasure laid at his hand,
And the dear Bride won.
Fed by dew, by a spice-wind fanned
Light labour more, and his foot would stand
On the threshold, all labour done;
Easy pleasure laid at his hand,
And the dear Bride won.
His slackening steps pause at the gate—
Does she wake or sleep?—the time is late—
Does she sleep now, or watch and wait?
She has watched, she has waited long,
Watching athwart the golden grate
With a patient song.
Does she wake or sleep?—the time is late—
Does she sleep now, or watch and wait?
She has watched, she has waited long,
Watching athwart the golden grate
With a patient song.
Fling the golden portals wide,
The Bridegroom comes to his promised Bride;
Draw the gold-stiff curtains aside,
Let them look on each other's face,
She in her meekness, he in his pride—
Day wears apace.
The Bridegroom comes to his promised Bride;
Draw the gold-stiff curtains aside,
Let them look on each other's face,
She in her meekness, he in his pride—
Day wears apace.
Day is over, the day that wore.
What is this that comes through the door,
The face covered, the feet before?
This that coming takes his breath:
This Bride not seen, to be seen no more
Save of Bridegroom Death?
What is this that comes through the door,
The face covered, the feet before?
This that coming takes his breath:
This Bride not seen, to be seen no more
Save of Bridegroom Death?
Veiled figures carrying her
Sweep by yet make no stir;
There is a smell of spice and myrrh,
Sweep by yet make no stir;
There is a smell of spice and myrrh,
