CLOUD Ah, yes, I catch the gleam of mail.
RANDOLPH O speak again ye voicéd ghosts! I heard afar your cheerful boasts. And, if I doubt not, ye are they That here have met me many a day.
CLOUD, (echoing) We are they. But whither now doth Randolph stray, And why the mail, and why the steed?
RANDOLPH This is my father's mail indeed, Bequeathed with message to his son: "Stand straight in it and yield to none."
RANDOLPH Off to the world; I cannot stay-- That world I have so often viewed Here from this upper solitude-- This bulwark barring strife and trade. Love calls me off. I love a maid, Loving her silently and long, Learning for her to hate the wrong, Learning for her to seek the right, To hew at sloth and faint resolve And thoughts that round but self revolve, And pray for grace and virtue--wings That bear men to the highest things, Enwrapt and rising into light. For her, for her, O Cloud and Wind! I trained my limbs and taught my mind, Ran, wrestled, clomb, and learned to bend The cross-bow with each village friend; And by my hermit-guardian spent The earliest dimness morning lent, And the faint torch that evening bore, In science and in saintly lore, Reading the stars and signs of rain, Noting each tree and herb and grain; Each bird that flutters through the leaves, Each beast, each fish that green lake cleaves, The curious deeds Devotion paints In missals and in lives of saints, And every olden subtle trick Of grammar, logic, rhetoric. But most on chivalry I turned A torrent eagerness, and burned To hear of wrong repaired, or read The working of some famous deed, Like those I dreamt that I could do When what I set myself was through: Vexed lest the inward clock of fate That ticked "Too soon!" might tick "Too late!" But now that dial points the hour When I must test my gathered power, And leave my books and leave my dreams Of steeds and towers and knightly themes, Of tourney gay and woodland quest, Of Perceval and Perceforest, Of Richard, Arthur, Charlemain, Amadis and the Cid of Spain-- Must leave them all and seek alone Some grand adventure of my own.
CLOUD Yet if you seek and cannot find Or fail to work what you designed, Be it but as the steadfast sun Who bright or dim his course doth run, And last doth reach as far a spot Whether he seems to shine or not.