A man I praise that once in Tara’s Halls Said
to the woman on his knees, “Lie still. My
hundredth year is at an end. I think That
something is about to happen, I think That
the adventure of old age begins. To
many women I have said, ‘Lie still,’ And
given everything that a woman needs, A
roof, good clothes, passion, love perhaps, But
never asked for love; should I ask that, I
shall be old indeed.” Thereon the king Went
to the Sacred House and stood between The
golden plough and harrow and spoke aloud That
all attendants and the casual crowd might hear. “God
I have loved, but should I ask return Of
God or woman, the time were come to die.” He
bade, his hundred and first year at end, Diggers
and carpenters make grave and coffin; Saw
that the grave was deep, the coffin sound, Summoned
the generations of his house, Lay in the coffin, stopped his breath and died. |
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