Poems (Dorr)/King Ivan's Oath
KING IVAN'S OATH
King Ivan ruled a mighty land
Girt by the sea on either hand;
A goodly land as e'er the sun
In its long journey looked upon!
His knights were loyal, brave, and true,
Eager their lord's behests to do;
His counsellors were wise and just,
Nor ever failed his kingly trust;
The nations praised him, and the state
Grew powerful, and rich, and great;
While still with long and loud acclaim,
His people hailed their monarch's name!
Girt by the sea on either hand;
A goodly land as e'er the sun
In its long journey looked upon!
His knights were loyal, brave, and true,
Eager their lord's behests to do;
His counsellors were wise and just,
Nor ever failed his kingly trust;
The nations praised him, and the state
Grew powerful, and rich, and great;
While still with long and loud acclaim,
His people hailed their monarch's name!
Fronting the east, a stately pile,
The palace caught the sun's first smile;
Lightly its domes and arches sprung,
As earth's glad hills when earth was young;
And miracles of airy grace,
Each tower and turret soared in space.
Within———But here no rhythmic flow
Of words with light and warmth aglow
Can tell the story. Not more fair
Are your own castles hung in air!
Painter and sculptor there had wrought
The utmost beauty of their thought;
There the rich fruit of Persian looms
Glowed darkly bright as tropic blooms;
There fell the light like golden mist,
Filtered through clouds of amethyst;
There bright-winged birds and odorous flowers
With song and fragrance filled the hours;
There Pleasure flung the portals wide,
And soul and sense were satisfied!
The palace caught the sun's first smile;
Lightly its domes and arches sprung,
As earth's glad hills when earth was young;
And miracles of airy grace,
Each tower and turret soared in space.
Within———But here no rhythmic flow
Of words with light and warmth aglow
Can tell the story. Not more fair
Are your own castles hung in air!
Painter and sculptor there had wrought
The utmost beauty of their thought;
There the rich fruit of Persian looms
Glowed darkly bright as tropic blooms;
There fell the light like golden mist,
Filtered through clouds of amethyst;
There bright-winged birds and odorous flowers
With song and fragrance filled the hours;
There Pleasure flung the portals wide,
And soul and sense were satisfied!
The queen? No fairer face than hers
E'er smiled upon its worshippers;
And she was good as fair, 'twas said,
And loved the king ere they were wed.
And he? No doubt he loved her, too,
After a kingly fashion—knew
She had a right his throne to share,
And would be mother of his heir.
But yet, to do him justice, he
Sometimes forgot his royalty—
Forgot his kingly crown, and then
Loved, and made love, like other men!
E'er smiled upon its worshippers;
And she was good as fair, 'twas said,
And loved the king ere they were wed.
And he? No doubt he loved her, too,
After a kingly fashion—knew
She had a right his throne to share,
And would be mother of his heir.
But yet, to do him justice, he
Sometimes forgot his royalty—
Forgot his kingly crown, and then
Loved, and made love, like other men!
There seemed no shadow near the throne;
Yet oft the great king walked alone,
Hands clasped behind him, head bowed down,
And on his royal face a frown.
Sat Mordecai within his gate?
What scoffing spectre mocked his state?
What demon held him in a spell?
Alas! the sweet queen knew too well!
Apples of Sodom ate he, since
She had not borne to him a prince,
Though thrice his hope had budded fair,
And he had counted on an heir.
Three little daughters, dainty girls
With sunshine tangled in their curls,
Bloomed in the palace; but no son—
The long-expected, waited one,
Flower of the state, and pride of all—
Grew at the king's side, straight and tall!
Yet oft the great king walked alone,
Hands clasped behind him, head bowed down,
And on his royal face a frown.
Sat Mordecai within his gate?
What scoffing spectre mocked his state?
What demon held him in a spell?
Alas! the sweet queen knew too well!
Apples of Sodom ate he, since
She had not borne to him a prince,
Though thrice his hope had budded fair,
And he had counted on an heir.
Three little daughters, dainty girls
With sunshine tangled in their curls,
Bloomed in the palace; but no son—
The long-expected, waited one,
Flower of the state, and pride of all—
Grew at the king's side, straight and tall!
The king was angered. It may be
No worse than other men was he;
But—a high tower upon a hill—
His light shone far for good or ill!
In from the chase one day he rode;
To the queen's chamber fierce he strode;
Where bending o'er her 'broidery frame,
Her pale cheeks burned with sudden flame
At his quick coming. Up she rose,
Stirred from her wonted calm repose,
A lily flushing when the sun
Its stately beauty looked upon!
Alas! alas! so blind was he—
Or else he did not care to see—
He had no pity, though she stood
In perfect flower of womanhood!
"You bear to me no son," he said;
Then flinging back his haughty head:
"Each base-born peasant has an heir,
His name to keep, his crust to share,
While I—the king of this broad land—
Have no son near my throne to stand!
Who, then, shall reign when I am dead?
Who wield the sceptre in my stead?
Inherit all my pride and power,
And wear my glory as his dower?
Give me a man-child, who shall be
Lord of the realm, himself, and me!"
No worse than other men was he;
But—a high tower upon a hill—
His light shone far for good or ill!
In from the chase one day he rode;
To the queen's chamber fierce he strode;
Where bending o'er her 'broidery frame,
Her pale cheeks burned with sudden flame
At his quick coming. Up she rose,
Stirred from her wonted calm repose,
A lily flushing when the sun
Its stately beauty looked upon!
Alas! alas! so blind was he—
Or else he did not care to see—
He had no pity, though she stood
In perfect flower of womanhood!
"You bear to me no son," he said;
Then flinging back his haughty head:
"Each base-born peasant has an heir,
His name to keep, his crust to share,
While I—the king of this broad land—
Have no son near my throne to stand!
Who, then, shall reign when I am dead?
Who wield the sceptre in my stead?
Inherit all my pride and power,
And wear my glory as his dower?
Give me a man-child, who shall be
Lord of the realm, himself, and me!"
Then pallid lips made slow reply—
"God ordereth. Not you nor I!"
His brow flushed hot; a sudden clang
As of arms throughout the chamber rang,
And turning on his heel, he threw
Back wrathful answer: "That may do
For puling women—not for me!
Now, by my good sword, we shall see!
So help me Heaven, I will not brook
On a girl's face again to look!
And when you next shall bear a child,
Though fair a babe as ever smiled,
If it be not a princely heir,
By all the immortal gods, I swear
I ne'er will speak to it, nor break
My soul's stern silence for Love's sake!"
"God ordereth. Not you nor I!"
His brow flushed hot; a sudden clang
As of arms throughout the chamber rang,
And turning on his heel, he threw
Back wrathful answer: "That may do
For puling women—not for me!
Now, by my good sword, we shall see!
So help me Heaven, I will not brook
On a girl's face again to look!
And when you next shall bear a child,
Though fair a babe as ever smiled,
If it be not a princely heir,
By all the immortal gods, I swear
I ne'er will speak to it, nor break
My soul's stern silence for Love's sake!"
Then forth he fared and rode away,
Nor saw the queen again that day—
The hapless queen, who to the floor
Sank prone and breathless, as the door
Swung to behind him, and his tread
Down the long arches echoèd.
In truth she was in sorry plight
When her maids found her late that night,
The king learned that which spoiled his rest,
But kept the secret in his breast!
Nor saw the queen again that day—
The hapless queen, who to the floor
Sank prone and breathless, as the door
Swung to behind him, and his tread
Down the long arches echoèd.
In truth she was in sorry plight
When her maids found her late that night,
The king learned that which spoiled his rest,
But kept the secret in his breast!
······
At length, when months had duly sped,
High streamed the banners overhead,
And all the bells rang out at morn
In jubilant peals—a Prince was born!
Now let the joyous music ring!
Now let the merry minstrels sing!
Now pour the wine and crown the feast
With fruits and flowers of all the East!
Now let the votive candles shine
And garlands bloom on every shrine!
Now let the young, with flying feet
Time to bewildering music beat,
And let the old their joys rehearse
In stirring tale, or flowing verse!
Now fill with shouts the waiting air,
And scatter largess everywhere!
High streamed the banners overhead,
And all the bells rang out at morn
In jubilant peals—a Prince was born!
Now let the joyous music ring!
Now let the merry minstrels sing!
Now pour the wine and crown the feast
With fruits and flowers of all the East!
Now let the votive candles shine
And garlands bloom on every shrine!
Now let the young, with flying feet
Time to bewildering music beat,
And let the old their joys rehearse
In stirring tale, or flowing verse!
Now fill with shouts the waiting air,
And scatter largess everywhere!
Ah! who so happy as the king?
Swift flew the hours on eager wing;
And the boy grew apace, until
The second summer, sweet and still,
Dropped roses round him as he played
Where arched the leafy colonnade.
How fair he was tongue cannot say,
But he was fairer than the day;
And never princely coronet
On brow of nobler mould was set;
Nor ever did its jewels gleam
Above an eye of brighter beam;
And never yet where sunshine falls,
Flooding with light the cottage walls,
'Mid hum of bee, or song of birds,
Or tenderest breath of loving words,
Blossomed a sweeter child than he!
How the king joyed his strength to see,
Counting the weeks that flew so fast—
Each fuller, happier than the last!
Six months had passed since he could walk;
Was it not time the prince should talk?
Ah! baby words with tripping feet!
Ah! baby laughter, silver sweet!
Swift flew the hours on eager wing;
And the boy grew apace, until
The second summer, sweet and still,
Dropped roses round him as he played
Where arched the leafy colonnade.
How fair he was tongue cannot say,
But he was fairer than the day;
And never princely coronet
On brow of nobler mould was set;
Nor ever did its jewels gleam
Above an eye of brighter beam;
And never yet where sunshine falls,
Flooding with light the cottage walls,
'Mid hum of bee, or song of birds,
Or tenderest breath of loving words,
Blossomed a sweeter child than he!
How the king joyed his strength to see,
Counting the weeks that flew so fast—
Each fuller, happier than the last!
Six months had passed since he could walk;
Was it not time the prince should talk?
Ah! baby words with tripping feet!
Ah! baby laughter, silver sweet!
At length within the palace rose
Rumor so strange that friends and foes
Forgot their love, forgot their hate,
Pausing to croon and speculate.
Vague whispers floated in the air;
A hint of mystery here and there;
A sudden hush, a startled glance,
Quick silences and looks askance.
Thus day by day the wonder grew,
Till o'er the kingdom wide it flew.
The prince—his father—what was this
Strange tale so surely told amiss?
The young prince dumb? Who dared to say
That nature such a prank could play?
Dumb to the king? In silence bound,
With voiceless lips that gave no sound
When the king questioned?—Yet, no lute,
Nor chiming bell, nor silver flute,
Nor lark's song, high in ether hung,
Rang clearer than the prince's tongue!
Rumor so strange that friends and foes
Forgot their love, forgot their hate,
Pausing to croon and speculate.
Vague whispers floated in the air;
A hint of mystery here and there;
A sudden hush, a startled glance,
Quick silences and looks askance.
Thus day by day the wonder grew,
Till o'er the kingdom wide it flew.
The prince—his father—what was this
Strange tale so surely told amiss?
The young prince dumb? Who dared to say
That nature such a prank could play?
Dumb to the king? In silence bound,
With voiceless lips that gave no sound
When the king questioned?—Yet, no lute,
Nor chiming bell, nor silver flute,
Nor lark's song, high in ether hung,
Rang clearer than the prince's tongue!
The court physicians came and went;
Learned men from all the continent
Gave wise opinions, talked of laws,
Stroked their gray beards, nor found the cause.
Then bribes were tried, and threats. The child,
As one bewildered, sighed and smiled,
In a wild storm of weeping broke,
Moved its red lips, but never spoke.
Learned men from all the continent
Gave wise opinions, talked of laws,
Stroked their gray beards, nor found the cause.
Then bribes were tried, and threats. The child,
As one bewildered, sighed and smiled,
In a wild storm of weeping broke,
Moved its red lips, but never spoke.
The changeful years rolled on apace;
The young prince wore a bearded face;
The good queen died; the king grew gray;
A generation passed away.
Courtiers forgot to tell the tale;
Gossip itself grew old and stale.
But never once, in all the years
That bore such freight of joys and tears,
Was the spell broken: not one word
From son to sire was ever heard.
Mutely his father's face he scanned—
Mutely he clasped his agèd hand—
Mutely he kissed him when at last
To death's long slumber forth he passed!
Come weal or woe, he could not break
The mystic silence for Love's sake!
The young prince wore a bearded face;
The good queen died; the king grew gray;
A generation passed away.
Courtiers forgot to tell the tale;
Gossip itself grew old and stale.
But never once, in all the years
That bore such freight of joys and tears,
Was the spell broken: not one word
From son to sire was ever heard.
Mutely his father's face he scanned—
Mutely he clasped his agèd hand—
Mutely he kissed him when at last
To death's long slumber forth he passed!
Come weal or woe, he could not break
The mystic silence for Love's sake!