O MIGHT I load my arms with thee, Like that young lover of Romance Who loved and gained so gloriously The fair Princess of France! Because he dared to love so high, He, bearing her dear weight, shall speed To where the mountain touched on sky: So the proud king decreed. Unhalting he must bear her on, Nor pause a space to gather breath, And on the height she will be won; -- And she was won in death! Red the far summit flames with morn, While in the plain a glistening Court Surrounds the king who practised scorn Through such a mask of sport. She leans into his arms; she lets Her lovely shape be clasped: he fares. God speed him whole! The knights make bets: The ladies lift soft prayers. O have you seen the deer at chase? O have you seen the wounded kite? So boundingly he runs the race, So wavering grows his flight. -- My lover! linger here, and slake Thy thirst, or me thou wilt not win. -- See'st thou the tumbled heavens? they break! They beckon us up and in. -- Ah, hero-love! unloose thy hold: O drop me like a cursed thing. -- See'st thou the crowded swards of gold? They wave to us Rose and Ring. -- O death-white mouth! O cast me down! Thou diest? Then with thee I die. -- See'st thou the angels with their Crown? We twain have reached the sky. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON EXPLORATION by JAMES GALVIN WORD-PORTRAITS: THE DESCRIPTION OF SIR GEOFFREY CHAUCER by ROBERT GREENE SONNET: WRITTEN ON THE DAY THAT MR. LEIGH HUNT LEFT PRISON by JOHN KEATS ON HIS MISTRESS, THE QUEEN OF BOHEMIA by HENRY WOTTON THERE IS NO LOVING AFTER DEATH by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS AN INVITATION by MRS. RALPH BLACK |