THE BLAMELESS PRINCE
Some days the Prince, upon the skirts of death,
Spake not a word nor heard the Queen's one prayer,
Nor turned his face, nor felt her loving breath,
Nor saw his children when they gathered there,
But rested dumb and motionless; and so
The Queen grew weak with watching and her woe,
Till from his bed they bore her to her own
A little. In the middle-tide of night,
Thereafter, he awoke with moan on moan,
And saw his death anigh, and said outright,
"I had all things, but love was worth them all!"
Then sped they for the Queen, yet ere the call
Reached her, he cried once more, "Too late! too late!"
And at those words, before they led her in,
Came the sure dart of him that lay in wait.
The Prince was dead: what goodness and what sin
Died with him were untold. At sunrise fell
Across the capital his solemn knell.
All respite it forbade, and joyance thence,
To one for whom his passion till the last
Wrought in the dying Prince. Her wan suspense
Thus ended, a great fear upon her passed.
"I was the cause!" she moaned from day to day,
"Now let me bear the penance as I may!"
So with her whole estate she sought and gained
A refuge in a nunnery close at view,
And there for months withdrew her, and remained
In tears and prayers. Anon a sickness grew
Upon her, and her face the ghost became
Of what it was, the same and not the same.
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