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That angrily deformed his aging face
With an avenging triumph. “Is this your way
To make a madman of me? If it be so,
Before you take my reason, take my life.
But no—you cannot. You have taken that.”
He drew his sword as if each gleaming inch
Had come in anguish out of his own flesh,
And would have given it for the King to keep—
Fearing himself, in his malevolence,
Longer to be its keeper. But the King,
Seizing his moment, gave Tristram no time
More than to show the trembling steel, and hear
The doom that he had felt and partly seen
With Isolt’s hope to cheer him.
With an avenging triumph. “Is this your way
To make a madman of me? If it be so,
Before you take my reason, take my life.
But no—you cannot. You have taken that.”
He drew his sword as if each gleaming inch
Had come in anguish out of his own flesh,
And would have given it for the King to keep—
Fearing himself, in his malevolence,
Longer to be its keeper. But the King,
Seizing his moment, gave Tristram no time
More than to show the trembling steel, and hear
The doom that he had felt and partly seen
With Isolt’s hope to cheer him.
“You have drawn
Your sword against the King, Tristram,” he said.
“Now put it back. Your speech to me before
Was nearer your last than you are near to me—
Yet I’ll not have your blood. I’ll have your life,
Instead—since you are sure your life means only
One woman—and will keep it far from you;
So far that you shall hunger for it always.
Your sword against the King, Tristram,” he said.
“Now put it back. Your speech to me before
Was nearer your last than you are near to me—
Yet I’ll not have your blood. I’ll have your life,
Instead—since you are sure your life means only
One woman—and will keep it far from you;
So far that you shall hunger for it always.
[ 67 ]
