Collected Works (Vol. III)

28 WHY JESUS WEPT SCENE VI. Sir PERCY PERCIVALE (02 Wastwater). God, I have rowed ! My hands are one blister ; My arms are one ache ; But my brain is a fire, As erst on the fell, In the hall; let me dive To the under-abode, Where the sweet-voiced sister Of the Screes! shall forsake Her home for desire Of me! Say the spell ! Down then ! to drive— [He dives. The waters close over him. He rises. Misery ever ! I dived, and the best Could dive no deeper. Did I touch bottom? Never, O never! I stand confessed A footler, a creeper. These spells—’Od rot ’em !— Are vain as the world, As all of the stars. This mystery’s nought. But for cold! The lake Is hot as the curled Flames at ‘the bars Of Hell; it is wrought Of fire: what shall slake This terrible thirst, This torment accurst? [He looks into the water. Yet, in my face As I gaze on the water Is something calmer. What if the king Of the Screes should see me, Give me for grace His beautiful daughter, Voluptuous charmer? 1 The mountain which bounds Wastwater on the south. A golden ring Should bring her to me ; No marriage dreamy ; Identity, love ! [He looks up. Stay! In the wood By the waterway, stands ! A delicate fairy ! [MOLLY TYSON zs discoverec Tt I’ll steal from above, Watch her. How good ! How sweet of her hands! How dainty and airy ! How perfect, how kind! How bright in her thoughts! How subtle, refined, The least light of her mind ! Let me approach ! O fear! O sorrow! I fear to encroach. Scree-king, I borrow Thy frown, thy pride, Thy magical targe. To her side I glide, To the mystical marge Of this lake enchaunted. O waters elf-haunted, Bear me toward her, A cruel marauder, A robber of light ! O beauty! O bright ! How shall I sing thee? Nay ! do not fly me! My bird, why wing thee? Be kind! O be nigh me! She speaks not. I'll follow! [Leaps from boat and wades in to shore. The world is my bower. By height and by hollow I’ll seek thee, O flower! I’ll not turn back ! [He pursues her. I'll go on for ever. The strength of a giant Is in my limbs — [He reels. My boay is slack; My muscles sever ;