THE TALE OF ARCHAIS 
19 
For his despair ineffable.  Her name 
He called ;  she was not, and the piercing flame 
Of love struck through him, till his tortured mind 
Drove his young limbs, the wolf that hunts the 
hind, 
Far through the forest.  Lastly sleep, like death, 
With strong compulsion of his labouring breath 
Came on him dreamless. 
When he woke, the day 
Stooped toward the splendour of the western bay, 
And he remembered.  Like a wild bird’s cry 
The song within him flamed, a melody 
Dreadful and beautiful.  The sad sea heard 
And echoed over earth its bitter word. 
 
SONG 
 
Ere the grape of joy is golden 
With the summer and the sun, 
Ere the maidens unbeholden 
Gather one by one, 
To the vineyard comes the shower, 
No sweet rain to fresh the flower. 
But the thunder rain that cleaves, 
Rends and ruins tender leaves.