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Athwart that web of worldwide melody. 'Twas then there lived a certain queen and king, Unvext of wars or other evil thing, Within a spacious palace builded high, Whence they might see their chiefest city lie About them, and half hear from their tall towers Its populous murmur through the daylight hours, And see beyond its walls the pleasant plain. One child they had, these blissful royal twain: Of whom 'tis told--so more than fair was he-- There lurked at whiles a something shadowy Deep down within the fairness of his face; As 'twere a hint of some not-earthly grace, Making the royal stripling rather seem The very dreaming offspring of a dream Than human child of human ancestry: And something strange-fantastical was he, I doubt not. Howsoever he upgrew, And after certain years to manhood drew Nigh, so that all about his father's court, Seeing his graciousness of princely port, Rejoiced thereat; and many maidens' eyes Look'd pleased upon his beauty, and the sighs Of many told I know not what sweet tales. So, like to some fair ship with sunlit sails, Glided his youth amid a stormless sea, Till once by night there came mysteriously A fateful wind, and o'er an unknown deep Bore him perforce. It chanced that while in sleep He lay, there came to him a strange dim dream. 'Twas like as he did float adown a stream, In a lone boat that had nor sail nor oar Yet seemed as it would glide for evermore, Deep in the bosom of a sultry land Fair with all fairness. Upon either hand Were hills green-browed and mist-engarlanded, And all about their feet were woods bespread, Hoarding the cool and leafy silentness In many an unsunned hollow and hid recess. Nought of unbeauteous might be there espied; But in the heart of the deep woods and wide, And in the heart of all, was Mystery-- A something more than outer eye might see, A something more than ever ear might hear. The very birds that came and sang anear Did seem to syllable some faery tongue, And, singing much, to hold yet more unsung. And heard at whiles, with hollow wandering tone, Far off, as by some aery huntsmen blown, Faint-echoing horns, among the mountains wound, Made all the live air tremulous with sound. So hour by hour (thus ran the Prince's dream) Glided the boat along the broadening stream; Till, being widowed of the sun her lord, The purblind day went groping evenward: Whereafter Sleep compelled to his mild yoke The bubbling clear souls of the fea
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