Analysis of The Princes' Ques -Part the Eighth

William Watson 1858 (Burley in Wharfedale) – 1935 (Rottingdean)



Now as it chanced, the day was almost spent
When down the lonely mountain-side he went,
The whitehaired man, the Prince that was; and ere
He won the silence of the valley where
The city's many towers uprose, the gate
Was closed against him, for the hour was late.
So even as they that have not wherewithal
To roof them from the rain if it should fall,
Upon the grassy ground this king's son lay,
And slept till nigh the coming of the day.

But while as any vagabond he slept
Or outcast from the homes of men, there crept
Unto him lying in such sorry sort
A something fairer than the kingliest court
In all the peopled world had witness of-
Even the shadow of the throne of Love,
That from a height beyond all height did creep
Along the pavement of the halls of sleep.
O fair and wonderful! that shadow was
The golden dream of dreams that came across
His youth, full half an hundred years before,
And sent him wandering through the world. Once more
In a lone boat that sails and oars had none,
Midmost a land of summer and the sun
Where nothing was that was not fair to see,
Adown a gliding river glided he,
And saw the city that was built thereby,
And saw the chariot of the queen draw nigh,
And gazed upon her in the goodly street;
Whereat he waked and rose upon his feet,
Remembering the Vision of the Seer,
And what the spirit spake unto his ear:
'When in thy wanderings thou shalt dream once more
The fateful dream thou haddest heretofore,
That filled thy veins with longing as with wine
Till all thy being brimm'd over-by that sign
Thou mayest know thyself at last to be
Within the borders of his empery
Who hath the mystic emerald stone, whose gleam
Shall light thee to the country of thy dream.'

Then rose the heart within his heart and said:
'O bitter scornful Fate, in days long dead
I asked and thou denied'st mine asking: now
The boon can no-wise profit me, and thou
Dost mock me with bestowal!' Thereupon
He fell to thinking of his youthhood gone,
And wept. For now the goal, the longtime-sought,
Was even at hand, 'but how shall I,' he thought,
'I that am old and sad and hoary-haired,
Enter the place for youth and love prepared?
For in my veins the wellspring of desire
Hath failed, and in mine heart the golden fire
Burneth no more for ever. I draw near
The night that is about our day, and hear
The sighing of the darkness as I go
Whose ancient secret there is none doth know.'

Ev'n so to his own heart he spake full sad,
And many and bitter were the thoughts he had
Of days that were and days that were to be.
But now the East was big with dawn, and he
Drew nigh the city-gates and entered in,
Ere yet the place remurmured with the din
Of voices and the tread of human feet;
And going up the void and silent street,
All in the chill gleam of the new-lit air,
A Thought found way into his soul, and there
Abode and grew, and in brief while became
Desire, and quickened to a quenchless flame:
And holding converse with himself, he said,
'Though in my heart the heart's desire be dead,
And can no more these time-stilled pulses move;
Though Death were lovelier to these eyes than Love
Yet would these eyes behold, or ere I pass,
The land that mirror'd lay as in a glass
In the deep wells of dream. And her that is
The sunlight of that city of all bliss,
Her would I fain see once with waking eyes
Whom sleep hath rendered unto vision twice.
And having seen her beauty I would go
My way, even to the river which doth flow
From daylight unto darkness and the place
Of silence, where the ghosts are face to face.'

So mused the man, and evermore his thought
Gave him no peace. Wherefore next morn he sought
The palace of the king, but on his way
Tarried till nigh the middle of the day
In talk with certain of the city-folk;
Whereby he learned, if that were true they spoke,
How that the king their lord was nigh distract
With torture of a strange disease that racked
Each day his anguished body more and more,
Setting at naught the leeches and their lore.
Which having heard he went before the king,
Who sat upon his throne, delivering
Judgment, his body pierced the while with pain.
And taking from his neck the charmèd chain
Which he had borne about him ever since
That morn miraculous, the unknown Prince
Upspake and said, 'O king, I hold within
My hand a wonder-working medicine
Of power to make thee whole if thou wilt deign
So to be healèd;' and he held the chain
Aloft, and straightway told unto the king
The passing worth and wonder of the th


Scheme AABBCCDDEE FFGGHHIIXXJJKKLLMMNNOOJJPPLBQQ RRSSXXTTUUVVXOWW XXLLYYNNBBZZRRXH1 1 XXXXWW2 2 TTEE3 3 4 4 JJ5 5 6 6 7 7 YK6 6 5 X
Poetic Form
Metre 111101111 1101010111 011011101 1101010101 0101010101 11011101011 1101111110 1111011111 0101011111 0111010101 1111010011 111011111 1011001101 010101011 0101011101 100110111 1101011111 0101010111 110100111 0101111101 1111110101 01110010111 0011110111 101110001 1101111111 101010101 0101011111 01010010111 0101000101 111010111 0100010101 0101011011 10110011111 01011101 1111110111 11110110111 11111111 01010111 1101010111 1111010111 1101011101 1101010111 11010111101 0111110101 1111101 111101111 011101011 11011111111 1111010101 1001110101 1011011010 11001101010 111110111 01110110101 0101010111 1101011111 11111111111 01001000111 1110011011 1101111101 1101010100 11011101 1100011101 0101010101 1001110111 0111011101 0101001101 0100101011 0101010111 10110101011 0111111101 110111111 1111011111 0111011001 0011110011 011110111 0111111101 1111010101 0101010111 11101010111 111010001 1101011111 110101011 111111111 0101011111 111010101 0111010101 0111110111 1101111101 1101010111 1111010101 1011010011 1101110101 1101110100 1011010111 0101110111 1111011101 1101000011 101111101 1101010100 11011111111 1111101101 010111001 01010101011
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 4,360
Words 854
Sentences 19
Stanzas 5
Stanza Lengths 10, 30, 16, 26, 22
Lines Amount 104
Letters per line (avg) 34
Words per line (avg) 8
Letters per stanza (avg) 699
Words per stanza (avg) 170
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

4:16 min read
115

William Watson

William Watson, was a surgeon in the 105th Regiment of Pennsylvania Volunteers during the American Civil War. more…

All William Watson poems | William Watson Books

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