Poems (Dorr)/King Ivan's Oath
KING IVAN'S OATH
King Ivan ruled a mighty landGirt by the sea on either hand;A goodly land as e'er the sunIn 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 stateGrew 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 flowOf words with light and warmth aglowCan tell the story. Not more fairAre your own castles hung in air!Painter and sculptor there had wroughtThe utmost beauty of their thought;There the rich fruit of Persian loomsGlowed darkly bright as tropic blooms; There fell the light like golden mist,Filtered through clouds of amethyst;There bright-winged birds and odorous flowersWith song and fragrance filled the hours;There Pleasure flung the portals wide,And soul and sense were satisfied!
The queen? No fairer face than hersE'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—knewShe had a right his throne to share,And would be mother of his heir.But yet, to do him justice, heSometimes forgot his royalty—Forgot his kingly crown, and thenLoved, 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, sinceShe 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 girlsWith 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 beNo 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 flameAt his quick coming. Up she rose,Stirred from her wonted calm repose,A lily flushing when the sunIts stately beauty looked upon!Alas! alas! so blind was he—Or else he did not care to see—He had no pity, though she stoodIn 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 beLord of the realm, himself, and me!"
Then pallid lips made slow reply—"God ordereth. Not you nor I!" His brow flushed hot; a sudden clangAs of arms throughout the chamber rang,And turning on his heel, he threwBack wrathful answer: "That may doFor puling women—not for me!Now, by my good sword, we shall see!So help me Heaven, I will not brookOn 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 swearI ne'er will speak to it, nor breakMy 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 floorSank prone and breathless, as the doorSwung to behind him, and his treadDown the long arches echoèd.In truth she was in sorry plightWhen her maids found her late that night,The king learned that which spoiled his rest,But kept the secret in his breast!
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At length, when months had duly sped,High streamed the banners overhead,And all the bells rang out at mornIn 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 feastWith fruits and flowers of all the East! Now let the votive candles shineAnd garlands bloom on every shrine!Now let the young, with flying feetTime to bewildering music beat,And let the old their joys rehearseIn 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, untilThe second summer, sweet and still,Dropped roses round him as he playedWhere arched the leafy colonnade.How fair he was tongue cannot say,But he was fairer than the day;And never princely coronetOn brow of nobler mould was set;Nor ever did its jewels gleamAbove 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 roseRumor 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 thisStrange tale so surely told amiss?The young prince dumb? Who dared to sayThat nature such a prank could play?Dumb to the king? In silence bound,With voiceless lips that gave no soundWhen 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 continentGave 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 yearsThat bore such freight of joys and tears, Was the spell broken: not one wordFrom 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 lastTo death's long slumber forth he passed!Come weal or woe, he could not breakThe mystic silence for Love's sake!