Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 5

Why never came we here before? To think I have lived for eighteen years shut up in Fez, Hemmed by the sandy desert, and all the while There was the sea! To have never seen the sea!

ZAPEL.

If thou hadst ever seen it, where were now Thy joy? ’tis novelty makes the delight. To them that in this castle dwell, the sea Is as the desert was to us at Fez.

Al. Custom will dull the sense of any pleasure. But set them down at Fez, would they not pine? 10 There’s life in the air. ’Twixt yon blue roomy dome And watery pavement the young winds charge forth Stored with refreshment: now we taste the springs Man’s spirit should drink, the very mountain torrent Of heaven, that were content to slake our throats’ Immortal thirst at stagnant pools. What, Zapel, Is the limit of our stay? now I am here, I would abide for ever.

Za. I know as little As thou. The king, thy sire, came here to fight The unbelievers: when they are beaten back 20 We shall go home. But why he sent for thee I cannot guess.

Al. Last night I know not, Zapel, Whether I slept or waked,—

Za. Nor could I sleep.

Al. But as I lay and listened to the sea, I plainly heard a waft of singing voices, That rose and fell and died anon away, Whiling the dark with some sweet lullaby.

Za. Why, ’twas the Christian captives that thou heardst.

Al. Ah! prisoners in the castle: I had forgot: ’Twas told me. And they are Christians! Can it be They sing so sweetly?

Za. Nay, I call it not sweet. 31 ’Tis sadder than the moaning of the wind To hear them praise their god.

Al. True, it was sad: Unearthly it seemed. Now more than ever, Zapel, I am glad I came; if there be Christians here, And I may come to see them. All my life I have heard strange things of them, and wondered much What they were like. I’ll speak with them.

Za. Ha! ha!

Al. Why not?

Za. They lie chained in a noisome pit, Where ’tis impossible to come.

Al. Who be they? 40 What is their fault?

Za. They are captives in the war.

Al. My father doth not use his captives so.

Za. They are unbelievers.

Al. True: yet that’s no crime But what they might impute to us. Were we In their hands fallen, thus cut off from our homes, ’Twere cruel to be tortured for the faith.

Za. They are worthless dogs.

Al. Alas! is all my teaching So cast away upon thy boorish soul? Pity makes brethren of our enemies.

Za. Forgive me, lady; I spoke in haste; and yet— I would that thou couldst think as I.

Al. Indeed, 51 That were attainment. Vex me not, I bid thee; But plan with me how I may see these captives: Were’t but to have them sing to me I’d do it: But curiosity and pity alike Move me. If man is cruel, ’tis woman’s part To ease the suffering which she cannot hinder.

Za. How wouldst thou see them?

Al. I shall ask my father To grant them, if it be but once a day, To walk at liberty within the walls. 60

Za. ’Tis pity Sala is not here.

Al. Thy meaning?

Za. The general hath the keeping of the castle, And he would work thy way in any wish, Howe’er preposterous.

Al. And thou sayst not ill. Sala is approachable and kind at heart: ’Tis pity he is away. [_Trumpets heard without._

Za. Here comes the king; He bade me shew thee hither in the garden, And here will look to find thee.

Al. Go, I bid thee, And tell him that I am here. [_Exit Zapel._ Now shall I know why I was sent for hither. 70 Would ’twere to take this castle for my own, With no more retinue than might suffice To till this garden, and to cook my food. I’d win these Christian captives to my service For ministers and minstrels; ay, and they Should row me on the water. I’d have my books In the northern tower, where set on high my lamp, Forestalling darkness with its seaward ray, Sailors should look for, and on tranquil nights Hear solemn music faintly, and believe 80 There was enchantment. Could I have my will, So would I live. And where’s the gain to be The daughter of a king, if every wish Nearest one’s heart is of like course denied, As to the meanest peasant ... when one word, One nod could grant it?

Enter King.

KING.

Almeh! my rose of June! Queen of my gardens, flower of all my kingdom!

Al. Honour be thine, my sire.

K. I bring thee joy. Hast thou not wondered why I sent for thee?

Al. Why was it? I long to know.