large/803/reviews_wilde_0709_librivox_64kb_mp3/reviews_84_wilde_64kb_2
large/803/reviews_wilde_0709_librivox_64kb_mp3/reviews_84_wilde_64kb
English
803
The last chapter of the book in which we are told of the great feast made for the dead is so finely written that we cannot refrain from quoting this passage: Now was the glooming falling upon the earth; but the Hall was bright within even as the Hall Sun had promised. THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE BOOK IN WHICH WE ARE TOLD OF THE GREAT FEAST MADE FOR THE DEAD IS SO FINELY WRITTEN THAT WE CANNOT REFRAIN FROM QUOTING THIS PASSAGE NOW WAS THE GLOOMING FALLING UPON THE EARTH BUT THE HALL WAS BRIGHT WITHIN EVEN AS THE HALL SUN HAD PROMISED
 sleepeth day nor night: The rim of the bowl she kisseth, and beareth the chambering light When the kings of men wend happy to the bride-bed from the board. It is little to say that she wendeth the edge of the grinded sword, When about the house half builded she hangeth many a day; The ship from the strand she shoveth, and on his wonted way By the mountain hunter fareth where his foot ne'er failed before: She is where the high bank crumbles at last on the river's shore: The mower's scythe she whetteth; and lulleth the shepherd to sleep Where the deadly ling-worm wakeneth in the desert of the sheep. Now we that come of the God-kin of her redes for ourselves we wot, But her will with the lives of men-folk and their ending know we not. So therefore I bid thee not fear for thyself of Doom and her deed, But for me: and I bid thee hearken to the helping of my need. Or else--Art thou happy in life, or lusteth thou to die In the flower of thy days, when thy glory and thy longing bloom on high?  A STEAD DOOM DWELLETH NOR SLEEPETH DAY NOR NIGHT THE RIM OF THE BULL SHE KISSETH AND BEARETH THE CHAMBERING LIGHT WHEN THE KINGS OF MEN WEND HAPPY TO THE BRIDE BED FROM THE BOARD IT IS LITTLE TO SAY THAT SHE WENDETH THE EDGE OF THE GRINDED SWORD WHEN ABOUT THE HOUSE HALF BUILDED SHE HANGETH MANY A DAY THE SHIP FROM THE STRAND SHE SHOVETH AND ON HIS WONTED WAY BY THE MOUNTAIN HUNTER FARETH WHERE HIS FOOT NEVER FAILED BEFORE SHE IS WHERE THE HIGH BANK CRUMBLES AT LAST ON THE RIVER'S SHORE THE MOWER'S SKIFF SHE WEDDETH AND LULL THE SHEPHERD TO SLEEP WHERE THE DEADLY LEAN WORM WAKENETH IN THE DESERT OF THE SHEEP NOW WE THAT COME OF THE GODKIN OF HER REEDS FOR OURSELVES WE WOT BUT HER WILL WITH THE LIVES OF MEN FOLK AND THEIR ENDING KNOW WE NOT SO THEREFORE I BID THEE NOT FEAR FOR THYSELF OF DOOM AND HER DEED BUT FOR ME AND I BID THEE HEARKEN TO THE HELPING OF MY NEED OR ELSE ART THOU HAPPY IN LIFE OR LESTST THOU TO DIE IN THE FLOWER OF THY DAYS WHEN THY GLORY AND THY LONGING BLOOM ON HIGH
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