XX.
- The Song of the Morrow. THE King of Duntrine had
a daughter when he was old, and she
was the fairest King’s daughter between two seas; her hair was like
spun gold,
and her eyes like pools in a river; and the King gave her a castle upon
the sea
beach, with a terrace, and a court of the hewn stone, and four towers
at the
four corners. Here she dwelt and grew up, and had no care for the
morrow, and
no power upon the hour, after the manner of simple men. It befell that she walked
one day by the beach of the sea, when
it was autumn, and the wind blew from the place of rains; and upon the
one hand
of her the sea beat, and upon the other the dead leaves ran. This was
the
loneliest beach between two seas, and strange things had been done
there in the
ancient ages. Now the King’s daughter was aware of a crone that sat
upon the
beach. The sea foam ran to her feet, and the dead leaves swarmed about
her
back, and the rags blew about her face in the blowing of the wind. “Now,” said the King’s
daughter, and she named a holy name,
“this is the most unhappy old crone between two seas.” “Daughter of a King,”
said the crone, “you dwell in a stone
house, and your hair is like the gold: but what is your profit? Life is
not
long, nor lives strong; and you live after the way of simple men, and
have no
thought for the morrow and no power upon the hour.” “Thought for the morrow,
that I have,” said the King’s
daughter; “but power upon the hour, that have I not.” And she mused
with
herself. Then the crone smote her
lean hands one within the other,
and laughed like a sea-gull. “Home!” cried she. “O daughter of a King,
home to
your stone house; for the longing is come upon you now, nor can you
live any
more after the manner of simple men. Home, and toil and suffer, till
the gift
come that will make you bare, and till the man come that will bring you
care.” The King’s daughter made
no more ado, but she turned about
and went home to her house in silence. And when she was come into her
chamber
she called for her nurse. “Nurse,” said the King’s
daughter, “thought is come upon me
for the morrow, so that I can live no more after the manner of simple
men. Tell
me what I must do that I may have power upon the hour.” Then the nurse moaned
like a snow wind. “Alas!” said she,
“that this thing should be; but the thought is gone into your marrow,
nor is
there any cure against the thought. Be it so, then, even as you will;
though
power is less than weakness, power shall you have; and though the
thought is
colder than winter, yet shall you think it to an end.” So the King’s daughter
sat in her vaulted chamber in the
masoned house, and she thought upon the thought. Nine years she sat;
and the
sea beat upon the terrace, and the gulls cried about the turrets, and
wind
crooned in the chimneys of the house. Nine years she came not abroad,
nor
tasted the clean air, neither saw God’s sky. Nine years she sat and
looked
neither to the right nor to the left, nor heard speech of any one, but
thought
upon the thought of the morrow. And her nurse fed her in silence, and
she took
of the food with her left hand, and ate it without grace. Now when the nine years
were out, it fell dusk in the
autumn, and there came a sound in the wind like a sound of piping. At
that the
nurse lifted up her finger in the vaulted house. “I hear a sound in the
wind,” said she, “that is like the
sound of piping.” “It is but a little
sound,” said the King’s daughter, “but
yet is it sound enough for me.” So they went down in the
dusk to the doors of the house, and
along the beach of the sea. And the waves beat upon the one hand, and
upon the
other the dead leaves ran; and the clouds raced in the sky, and the
gulls flew
widdershins. And when they came to that part of the beach where strange
things
had been done in the ancient ages, lo, there was the crone, and she was
dancing
widdershins. “What makes you dance
widdershins, old crone?” said the
King’s daughter; “here upon the bleak beach, between the waves and the
dead
leaves?” “I hear a sound in the
wind that is like a sound of piping,”
quoth she. “And it is for that that I dance widdershins. For the gift
comes
that will make you bare, and the man comes that must bring you care.
But for me
the morrow is come that I have thought upon, and the hour of my power.” “How comes it, crone,”
said the King’s daughter, “that you
waver like a rag, and pale like a dead leaf before my eyes?” “Because the morrow has
come that I have thought upon, and
the hour of my power,” said the crone; and she fell on the beach, and,
lo! she
was but stalks of the sea tangle, and dust of the sea sand, and the
sand lice
hopped upon the place of her. “This is the strangest
thing that befell between two seas,”
said the King’s daughter of Duntrine. But the nurse broke out
and moaned like an autumn gale. “I
am weary of the wind,” quoth she; and she bewailed her day. The King’s daughter was
aware of a man upon the beach; he
went hooded so that none might perceive his face, and a pipe was
underneath his
arm. The sound of his pipe was like singing wasps, and like the wind
that sings
in windlestraw; and it took hold upon men’s ears like the crying of
gulls. “Are you the comer?”
quoth the King’s daughter of Duntrine. “I am the corner,” said
he, “and these are the pipes that a
man may hear, and I have power upon the hour, and this is the song of
the morrow.”
And he piped the song of the morrow, and it was as long as years; and
the nurse
wept out aloud at the hearing of it. “This is true,” said the
King’s daughter, “that you pipe the
song of the morrow; but that ye have power upon the hour, how may I
know that?
Show me a marvel here upon the beach, between the waves and the dead
leaves.” And the man said, “Upon
whom?” “Here is my nurse,” quoth
the King’s daughter. “She is weary
of the wind. Show me a good marvel upon her.” And, lo! the nurse fell
upon the beach as it were two
handfuls of dead leaves, and the wind whirled them widdershins, and the
sand
lice hopped between. “It is true,” said the
King’s daughter of Duntrine, “you are
the comer, and you have power upon the hour. Come with me to my stone
house.” So they went by the sea
margin, and the man piped the song
of the morrow, and the leaves followed behind them as they went. Then they sat down
together; and the sea beat on the
terrace, and the gulls cried about the towers, and the wind crooned in
the chimneys
of the house. Nine years they sat, and every year when it fell autumn,
the man
said, “This is the hour, and I have power in it”; and the daughter of
the King
said, “Nay, but pipe me the song of the morrow”. And he piped it, and
it was
long like years. Now when the nine years
were gone, the King’s daughter of
Duntrine got her to her feet, like one that remembers; and she looked
about her
in the masoned house; and all her servants were gone; only the man that
piped
sat upon the terrace with the hand upon his face; and as he piped the
leaves
ran about the terrace and the sea beat along the wall. Then she cried
to him
with a great voice, “This is the hour, and let me see the power in it”.
And
with that the wind blew off the hood from the man’s face, and, lo!
there was no
man there, only the clothes and the hood and the pipes tumbled one upon
another
in a corner of the terrace, and the dead leaves ran over them. And the King’s daughter
of Duntrine got her to that part of
the beach where strange things had been done in the ancient ages; and
there she
sat her down. The sea foam ran to her feet, and the dead leaves swarmed
about
her back, and the veil blew about her face in the blowing of the wind.
And when
she lifted up her eyes, there was the daughter of a King come walking
on the
beach. Her hair was like the spun gold, and her eyes like pools in a
river, and
she had no thought for the morrow and no power upon the hour, after the
manner
of simple men. |