And with affection kind, on Tristram, sadly.
“Yes, I am cold,” he said. “Here at my heart
I feel a blasting chill. Will you not come
With me to see the King and Queen together?
Or must I mumble as I may to them,
Alone, this weary jest of your complaint?”
“Yes, I am cold,” he said. “Here at my heart
I feel a blasting chill. Will you not come
With me to see the King and Queen together?
Or must I mumble as I may to them,
Alone, this weary jest of your complaint?”
“God’s love, have I not seen the two together!
And as for my complaint, mumble or not.
Mumble or shriek it; or, as you see fit,
Call for my harp and sing it.” Tristram laid
His hands on Gouvernail’s enduring shoulders
Which many a time had carried him for sport
In a far vanished childhood, and looked off
Where patient skill had made of shrubs and rocks
Together a wild garden half way down
To the dusk-hidden shore. “Believe my word,
My loyal and observing Gouvernail,”
He said, and met the older man’s regard
With all that he could muster of a smile.
“Believe my word, and say what I have said,
Or something as much better as you may.
Believe my word no less that I am sick,
And as for my complaint, mumble or not.
Mumble or shriek it; or, as you see fit,
Call for my harp and sing it.” Tristram laid
His hands on Gouvernail’s enduring shoulders
Which many a time had carried him for sport
In a far vanished childhood, and looked off
Where patient skill had made of shrubs and rocks
Together a wild garden half way down
To the dusk-hidden shore. “Believe my word,
My loyal and observing Gouvernail,”
He said, and met the older man’s regard
With all that he could muster of a smile.
“Believe my word, and say what I have said,
Or something as much better as you may.
Believe my word no less that I am sick,
[ 27 ]
