Part 3
GYPSY
I lie within his hand.
PRINCE
Where go you?
GYPSY
Where the cool brown river runs, Over the shining pebbles, through deep pools The setting sun turns first to molten gold, Then hues with pigeons’ breasts, purple and pink, Then fills with inky shadows where the moon Plunges at midnight. ’Neath the glimmering stacks Below the waiting stars I dream good dreams, And catch the sky’s faint blush, and bathe in the brook, And tread the firm green grass and follow the clouds, Till drowsy noon. I sing before her door, And the farmer’s wife brings honey to me, and bread And milk beneath the pink, sweet apple-boughs.
PRINCE
Will you not sing to me?
(_Gypsy sings._)
_The king he wooed the Gypsy maid And kissed her to the throne; She fell asleep, but blood runs deep, And the forest claims its own!_
MAN-AT-ARMS
Leave us, I say!
PRINCE
You shall not threaten him!
MAN-AT-ARMS
Go, or I strike!
PRINCE
Where is your love for me?
MAN-AT-ARMS
Sir, if my care for you had matched my love We two had long ago been far from here. With every moment’s lingering, my lord, I move one step the nearer to my death: Will you not come?
PRINCE
I cannot.
MAN-AT-ARMS
Then for me Life is not long, it seems. I pray you, sir, Remember always that I loved you well!
(_Gypsy sings._)
_Ah, vain for him the diadem, Heavy the scepter’s load, For he was lord o’ the windy wood, And prince o’ the winding road!_
PRINCE
I come, I come! Nay, weep not so, good friend! This is no fault of thine; for you and me God’s plan is kindly. Never did I loose The hare entrapped or set the song-bird free But I had faith that He would serve me so! Come with me: little love have they for us In that hot, weary glitter of the court. Hast thou not seen the new queen grudge at me And nurse her son to scorn me? Let them reign! We’ll make a dearer court. The trees shall bend And bow to us, but not with flattery; The little leaves shall whisper, but their lisp Is clean of lies and slander; the sleek deer Shall lead their tender fawns to kiss our hand, Nor plot us evil with the soft caress; The wind and rain shall be our councilors, Nor urge us to do war, nor press the poor, Nor waste our souls in bitter rivalries, Nor match a petty kingdom with great powers That smile at us for folly. Let them reign!
(_Gypsy sings._)
_And it’s we will fling the world away, And reap where God has sowed, And we’ll roam for ay the windy wood, And wander the winding road!_
PRINCE
Friend, must I go alone?
MAN-AT-ARMS
My lord, these hands Lifted you first from where you lay and smiled Beside the dead queen ’neath the hawthorn-tree. I walked beside the horse when first you rode, I set the hawk upon your little arm, I have lain years before your door at night. The death I stay to meet were not so hard As life without you.
PRINCE
Will you follow me?
MAN-AT-ARMS
To the death, my lord!
PRINCE
Why, then, good friends, your hands! We three are bound for the woods: God needs some souls To love the world as he made it. Come with me!
(_They enter the forest; the Gypsy song is heard._)
_Oh, the goodwife turns the wheel at home, And the bird will keep her nest, But it’s ah me! for the world’s to see Or ever my heart have rest!_