But when the sun was high, the populaceBy every gateway filled the roads, and soughtThe martial plain, within whose central spaceThat wonder of the Prince’s tomb was wrought.Thereto from out the nearer land there passedThe mingled folk, an eager throng and vast;Knights, commons, men and women, young and old,The present and the promise of the realm.Anon the coming of the Queen was told,And mounted guards, with sable plumes at helm,Made through the middle, like a reaper’s swath,A straight, wide roadway for the sovereign’s path.Then rose the murmurous sound of her advance,And, with the crown-prince, and her other broodLed close behind, she came. Her countenanceMoved not to right nor left, until she stoodBefore the tomb; yet those, who took the breathThat clothed her progress, felt a waft of death.O noble martyr! queenliest intent!Strong human soul, that holds to pride through all!Ah me! with what fierce heavings in them pentThe brave complete their work, whate’er befall!Upon her front the people only readPale grief that clung forever to the dead.How should they know she trod the royal stand,And took within her hold the silken line,As, while the headsman waits, one lays her handUpon the scarf that slays her by a sign?With one great pang she drew the veil, and lo!The work was dazzling in the noonday glow.There shone the Prince’s image, golden, high,Installed forever in the people’s sight.“Alas!” they cried, “too good, too fair to die!”But at the foot the Queen had bid them writeHer consort’s goodness, and his glory-roll,Yet knew not they had carved upon the scrollThat last assurance of his stainless heart,—For such they deemed his words who heard them fall,—“Of all great things this Prince achieved his part,Yet wedded Love to him was worth them all.”Thus read the Queen: till now, her injured soulOf its forlornness had not felt the whole.Now all her heart was broken. There she fell,And to the skies her lofty spirit fled.The wrong of those mute words had smitten well.A cry went up: “The Queen! the Queen is dead!O regal heart that would not reign alone!O fatal sorrow! O the empty throne!”Her people made her beauteous relics roomWithin the chamber where her consort slept.There rest they side by side. Around the tombA thousand matrons solemn vigil kept.Long ages told the story of her reign,And sang the nuptial love that had no stain.
But when the sun was high, the populaceBy every gateway filled the roads, and soughtThe martial plain, within whose central spaceThat wonder of the Prince’s tomb was wrought.Thereto from out the nearer land there passedThe mingled folk, an eager throng and vast;Knights, commons, men and women, young and old,The present and the promise of the realm.Anon the coming of the Queen was told,And mounted guards, with sable plumes at helm,Made through the middle, like a reaper’s swath,A straight, wide roadway for the sovereign’s path.Then rose the murmurous sound of her advance,And, with the crown-prince, and her other broodLed close behind, she came. Her countenanceMoved not to right nor left, until she stoodBefore the tomb; yet those, who took the breathThat clothed her progress, felt a waft of death.O noble martyr! queenliest intent!Strong human soul, that holds to pride through all!Ah me! with what fierce heavings in them pentThe brave complete their work, whate’er befall!Upon her front the people only readPale grief that clung forever to the dead.How should they know she trod the royal stand,And took within her hold the silken line,As, while the headsman waits, one lays her handUpon the scarf that slays her by a sign?With one great pang she drew the veil, and lo!The work was dazzling in the noonday glow.There shone the Prince’s image, golden, high,Installed forever in the people’s sight.“Alas!” they cried, “too good, too fair to die!”But at the foot the Queen had bid them writeHer consort’s goodness, and his glory-roll,Yet knew not they had carved upon the scrollThat last assurance of his stainless heart,—For such they deemed his words who heard them fall,—“Of all great things this Prince achieved his part,Yet wedded Love to him was worth them all.”Thus read the Queen: till now, her injured soulOf its forlornness had not felt the whole.Now all her heart was broken. There she fell,And to the skies her lofty spirit fled.The wrong of those mute words had smitten well.A cry went up: “The Queen! the Queen is dead!O regal heart that would not reign alone!O fatal sorrow! O the empty throne!”Her people made her beauteous relics roomWithin the chamber where her consort slept.There rest they side by side. Around the tombA thousand matrons solemn vigil kept.Long ages told the story of her reign,And sang the nuptial love that had no stain.
But when the sun was high, the populaceBy every gateway filled the roads, and soughtThe martial plain, within whose central spaceThat wonder of the Prince’s tomb was wrought.Thereto from out the nearer land there passedThe mingled folk, an eager throng and vast;
But when the sun was high, the populace
By every gateway filled the roads, and sought
The martial plain, within whose central space
That wonder of the Prince’s tomb was wrought.
Thereto from out the nearer land there passed
The mingled folk, an eager throng and vast;
Knights, commons, men and women, young and old,The present and the promise of the realm.Anon the coming of the Queen was told,And mounted guards, with sable plumes at helm,Made through the middle, like a reaper’s swath,A straight, wide roadway for the sovereign’s path.
Knights, commons, men and women, young and old,
The present and the promise of the realm.
Anon the coming of the Queen was told,
And mounted guards, with sable plumes at helm,
Made through the middle, like a reaper’s swath,
A straight, wide roadway for the sovereign’s path.
Then rose the murmurous sound of her advance,And, with the crown-prince, and her other broodLed close behind, she came. Her countenanceMoved not to right nor left, until she stoodBefore the tomb; yet those, who took the breathThat clothed her progress, felt a waft of death.
Then rose the murmurous sound of her advance,
And, with the crown-prince, and her other brood
Led close behind, she came. Her countenance
Moved not to right nor left, until she stood
Before the tomb; yet those, who took the breath
That clothed her progress, felt a waft of death.
O noble martyr! queenliest intent!Strong human soul, that holds to pride through all!Ah me! with what fierce heavings in them pentThe brave complete their work, whate’er befall!Upon her front the people only readPale grief that clung forever to the dead.
O noble martyr! queenliest intent!
Strong human soul, that holds to pride through all!
Ah me! with what fierce heavings in them pent
The brave complete their work, whate’er befall!
Upon her front the people only read
Pale grief that clung forever to the dead.
How should they know she trod the royal stand,And took within her hold the silken line,As, while the headsman waits, one lays her handUpon the scarf that slays her by a sign?With one great pang she drew the veil, and lo!The work was dazzling in the noonday glow.
How should they know she trod the royal stand,
And took within her hold the silken line,
As, while the headsman waits, one lays her hand
Upon the scarf that slays her by a sign?
With one great pang she drew the veil, and lo!
The work was dazzling in the noonday glow.
There shone the Prince’s image, golden, high,Installed forever in the people’s sight.“Alas!” they cried, “too good, too fair to die!”But at the foot the Queen had bid them writeHer consort’s goodness, and his glory-roll,Yet knew not they had carved upon the scroll
There shone the Prince’s image, golden, high,
Installed forever in the people’s sight.
“Alas!” they cried, “too good, too fair to die!”
But at the foot the Queen had bid them write
Her consort’s goodness, and his glory-roll,
Yet knew not they had carved upon the scroll
That last assurance of his stainless heart,—For such they deemed his words who heard them fall,—“Of all great things this Prince achieved his part,Yet wedded Love to him was worth them all.”Thus read the Queen: till now, her injured soulOf its forlornness had not felt the whole.
That last assurance of his stainless heart,—
For such they deemed his words who heard them fall,—
“Of all great things this Prince achieved his part,
Yet wedded Love to him was worth them all.”
Thus read the Queen: till now, her injured soul
Of its forlornness had not felt the whole.
Now all her heart was broken. There she fell,And to the skies her lofty spirit fled.The wrong of those mute words had smitten well.A cry went up: “The Queen! the Queen is dead!O regal heart that would not reign alone!O fatal sorrow! O the empty throne!”
Now all her heart was broken. There she fell,
And to the skies her lofty spirit fled.
The wrong of those mute words had smitten well.
A cry went up: “The Queen! the Queen is dead!
O regal heart that would not reign alone!
O fatal sorrow! O the empty throne!”
Her people made her beauteous relics roomWithin the chamber where her consort slept.There rest they side by side. Around the tombA thousand matrons solemn vigil kept.Long ages told the story of her reign,And sang the nuptial love that had no stain.
Her people made her beauteous relics room
Within the chamber where her consort slept.
There rest they side by side. Around the tomb
A thousand matrons solemn vigil kept.
Long ages told the story of her reign,
And sang the nuptial love that had no stain.