Poems (Hardy)/Berym's parable
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BERYM'S PARABLE
THUS Berym to his mates, among the sheep,
About the hillside folds at set of sun,
Babbled a story ere he slept the sleep
The weary love:
Three swords to his three sons
An ancient king of eastern splendor gave;
Save two, each hilt all other hilts outshone;
Save two, each blade might never meet and match
With equal edge, and those in brothers' hands
Were turned from each.
The eldest prince, child-wise,
And eye-prudent, so precious held his gift
He hid it in a box of carven oak,
Lapped 'round with nard in scarves of Maracand.
The second, in a pleasure play of arms
Next day, lost his and laughed away the loss.
From nine great battles conquering came the third,
The youngest prince, whom time, nor chance, nor place
Had found unguarded of his father's gift.
About the hillside folds at set of sun,
Babbled a story ere he slept the sleep
The weary love:
Three swords to his three sons
An ancient king of eastern splendor gave;
Save two, each hilt all other hilts outshone;
Save two, each blade might never meet and match
With equal edge, and those in brothers' hands
Were turned from each.
The eldest prince, child-wise,
And eye-prudent, so precious held his gift
He hid it in a box of carven oak,
Lapped 'round with nard in scarves of Maracand.
The second, in a pleasure play of arms
Next day, lost his and laughed away the loss.
From nine great battles conquering came the third,
The youngest prince, whom time, nor chance, nor place
Had found unguarded of his father's gift.