Canto IX
1
Even as he heard the wicket clash behind
Came a great wind beneath that seemed to tear
The solid graves apart; and deaf and blind
Whirled him upright, like smoke, through towering air
Whose levels were as steps of a sky stair.
The parching cold roughened his throat with thirst
And pricked him at the heart. This was the first.
2
And as he soared into the next degree,
Suddenly all round him he could hear
Sad strings that fretted inconsolably
And ominous horns that blew both far and near.
There broke his human heart, and his last tear
Froze scalding on his chin. But while he heard
He shot like s sped dart into the third.
3
And its first stroke of silence could destroy
The spring of tears forever and compress
From off his lips the curved bow of the boy
Forever. The sidereal loneliness
Received him, where no journeying leaves the less
Still to be journeyed through: but everywhere,
Fast though you fly, the centre still is there.
4
And here the well-worn fabric of our life
Fell from him. Hope and purpose were cut short,
—Even the blind trust that reaches in mid-strife
Towards some heart of things. Here blew the mort
For the world spirit herself. The last support
Was fallen away—Himself, one spark of soul,
Swam in unbroken void. He was the whole,
5
And wailing: “Why hast Thou forsaken me?
Was there no world at all, but only I
Dreaming of gods and men?” Then suddenly
He felt the wind no more: he seemed to fly
Faster than light but free, and scaled the sky
In his own strength—as if a falling stone
Should wake to find the world’s will was its own.
6
And on the instant, straight before his eyes
He looked and saw a sentry shape that stood
Leaning upon its spear, with hurrying skies
Behind it and a moonset red as blood.
Upon its head were helmet and mailed hood,
And shield upon its arm and sword at thigh,
All black and pointed sharp against the sky.
7
Then came the clink of metal, the dry sound
Of steel on rock and challenge: “Who comes here?”
And as he heard it, Dymer at one bound
Stood in the stranger’s shadow, with the spear
Between them. And his human face came near
That larger face. “What watch is this you keep,”
Said Dymer, “on edge of such a deep?”
8
And answer came, “I watch both night and day
This frontier … there are beasts of the upper air
As beasts of the deep sea … one walks this way
Night after night, far scouring from his lair,
Chewing the cud of lusts which are despair
And fill not, while his mouth gapes dry for bliss
That never was.”—“What kind of beast is this?”
9
“A kind of things escaped that have no home,
Hunters of men. They love the spring uncurled,
The will worn down, the wearied hour. They come
At night-time when the mask is off the world
And the soul’s gate ill-locked and the flag furled
—Then, softly, a pale swarm, and in disguise,
Flit past the drowsy watchman, small as flies.”
10
—“I’ll see this aerish beast whereof you speak.
I’ll share the watch with you.”—“Nay, little One,
Begone. You are of earth. The flesh is weak …”
—“What is the flesh to me? My course is run,
All but some deed still waiting to be done,
Some moment I may rise on, as the boat
Lifts with the lifting tide and steals afloat.
11
“You are a spirit, and it is well with you,
But I am come out of great folly and shame,
The sack of cities, wrongs I must undo …
But tell me of the beast, and whence it came;
Who were its sire and dam? What is its name?”
—“It is my kin. All monsters are the brood
Of heaven and earth, and mixed with holy blood.”
12
—“How can this be?”—“My son, sit here awhile.
There is a lady in that primal place
Where I was born, who with her ancient smile
Made glad the sons of heaven. She loved to chase
The springtime round the world. To all your race
She was a sudden quivering in the wood
Or a new thought springing in solitude.
13
“Till, in prodigious hour, one swollen with youth,
Blind from new-broken prison, knowing not
Himself nor her, nor how to mate with truth,
Lay with her in a strange and secret spot,
Mortal with her immortal, and begot
This walker-in-the-night.”—“But did you know
This mortal’s name?”—“Why … it was long ago.
14
“And yet, I think, I near the name in mind;
It was some famished boy whom tampering men
Had crippled in their chains and made him blind
Till their weak hour discovered them: and then
He broke that prison. Softly!—it comes again,
I have it. It was Dymer, little One,
Dymer’s the name. This spectre is his son.”
15
Then, after silence, came an answering shout
From Dymer, glad and full: “Break off! Dismiss!
Your watch is ended and your lamp is out.
Unarm, unarm. Return into your bliss.
You are relieved, Sir. I must deal with this
As in my right. For either I must slay
This beast or else be slain before the day.”
16
“So mortal and so brave?” that other said,
Smiling, and turned and looked in Dymer’s eyes,
Scanning him over twice from heel to head
—Like an old sergeant’s glance, grown battle-wise
To know the points of men. At last, “Arise,”
He said, “and wear my arms. I can withhold
Nothing; for such an hour has been foretold.”
17
Thereat, with lips as cold as the sea-surge,
He kissed the youth, and bending on one knee
Put all his armour off and let emerge
Angelic shoulders marbled gloriously
And feet like frozen speed and, plain to see,
On his wide breast dark wounds and ancient scars,
The battle honours of celestial wars.
18
Then like a squire or brother born he dressed
The young man in those plates, that dripped with cold
Upon the inside, trickling over breast
And shoulder: but without, the figured gold
Gave to the tinkling ice its jagged hold,
And the icy spear froze fast to Dymer’s hand.
But where the other had stood he took his stand.
19
And searched the cloudy landscape. He could see
Dim shapes like hills appearing, but the moon
He sunk behind their backs. “When will it be?”
Said Dymer: and the other, “Soon now, soon.
For either he comes past us at night’s noon
Or else between the night and the full day,
And down there, on
