| |
| IN the days of eld there was wont to be, | |
| On the jagged coast of the Zuyder-Zee, | |
| A city from whence broad galleons went | |
| To distant island and continent, | |
| To lands that under the tropics lay, | 5 |
| Ind and the fabled far Cathay, | |
| To gather from earth and sea and air | |
| All that was beautiful, rich, and rare. | |
| And back they voyaged so laden full | |
| With fairy fabrics from old Stamboul, | 10 |
| With pungent woods that breathed out balms, | |
| With broidered stuffs from the realm of palms, | |
| With shawls from the marts of Ispahan, | |
| With marvellous lacquers from strange Japan, | |
| That through this traffic on many a sea | 15 |
| So grand did its merchants grow to be, | |
| That even Venetian lords became | |
| Half covetous of the city’s fame. | |
| |
| The Lady Riberta’s fleet was great, | |
| And year by year it had brought such store | 20 |
| Of treasures, until in her queenly state | |
| There scarcely sufficed her room for more. | |
| Her feasts—no prince in the realms around | |
| Had service so rich or food so fine, | |
| As daily her carven tables crowned; | 25 |
| And proud she was of her luscious cates, | |
| And her rare conserves, and her priceless wine, | |
| And her golden salvers and golden plates: | |
| For all that the sea or shore could bring | |
| Was hers for the fairest furnishing. | 30 |
| |
| It fell one day, that a stranger came | |
| In garb of an Eastern sage arrayed, | |
| Commended by one of noble name: | |
| He had traversed many a clime, he said, | |
| And, whithersoever he went, had heard | 35 |
| Of the Lady Riberta’s state, that so | |
| In his heart a secret yearning stirred | |
| To find if the tale were true or no. | |
| At once the Lady Riberta’s pride | |
| Upsprang, and into her lordly hall | 40 |
| She led the stranger, and at her side | |
| She bade him be seated in sight of all. | |
| |
| Silver and gold around him gleamed, | |
| The daintiest dishes before him steamed; | |
| The rarest of fish and flesh and bird, | 45 |
| Fruits all flushed with the tropic sun, | |
| Nuts whose names he had never heard, | |
| Were offered: the stranger would have none; | |
| Nor spake he in praise a single word. | |
| “Doth anything lack?” with chafe, at last, | 50 |
| The hostess queried, “from the repast?” | |
| Gravely the guest then gave reply: | |
| “Lady, since thou dost question, I, | |
| Daring to speak the truth alway, | |
| Even in such a presence, say | 55 |
| Something is wanting: I have sate | |
| Oft at the tables of rich and great, | |
| Nor seen such viands as these; but yet, | |
| I marvel me much thou shouldst forget | |
| The world’s one best thing; for ’t is clear, | 60 |
| Whatever beside, it is not here.” | |
| |
| “Name it,” the lady flashed, “and naught | |
| Will I grudge of search till the best is brought.” | |
| But never another word the guest | |
| Uttered, as soothly he waived aside | 65 |
| Her question, that in the heat of pride, | |
| Mindless of courtesy, still she pressed. | |
| And when from her grand refection hall | |
| They fared from their feasting, one and all, | |
| Again with a heightened tone and air | 70 |
| To the guest she turned, but no guest was there. | |
| “I ’ll have it,” she stamped, “whatever it be; | |
| I ’ll scour the land, and I ’ll sweep the sea, | |
| Nor ever the tireless quest resign | |
| Till I know the world’s one best thing mine!” | 75 |
| |
| Once more were the white-sailed galleons sent | |
| To far-off island and continent, | |
| In search of the most delicious things | |
| That ever had whetted the greed of kings: | |
| But none of the luxuries that they brought, | 80 |
| Seemed quite the marvel the Lady sought. | |
| |
| At length from his latest voyage back | |
| Sailed one of her captains: he told her how | |
| Wild weather had driven him from his track, | |
| And his vessel had sprung aleak, till bow | 85 |
| And stern were merged, and a rime of mould | |
| Had mossed the flour within the hold, | |
| And nothing was left but wine and meat, | |
| Through weary weeks, for the crew to eat, | |
| “Then the words of the stranger rose,” he said, | 90 |
| “And I felt that the one best thing was bread: | |
| And so, for a cargo, I was fain | |
| Thereafter to load my ships with grain.” | |
| |
| The Lady Riberta’s wrath outsprang | |
| Like a sword from its sheath, and her keen voice rang | 95 |
| Sharp as a lance-thrust: “Get thee back | |
| To the vessels, and have forth every sack, | |
| And spill in the sea thy curséd store, | |
| Nor ever sail with my galleons more!” | |
| |
| The people who hungered for daily bread | 100 |
| Prayed that to them in their need, instead, | |
| The grain might be dealt; but she heeded none, | |
| Nor rested until the deed was done. | |
| |
| The months passed on, and the harvest sown | |
| In the furrows of deep sea-fields had grown | 105 |
| To a forest of slender stalks,—a wide | |
| Strong net to trap whatever the tide | |
| Drew on in its wake,—the drift and wreck | |
| Of many a shattered mast and deck, | |
| And all the tangle of weeds there be | 110 |
| Afloat in the trough of the plunging sea. | |
| |
| Until, as the years went by, a shoal | |
| Of sand had tided a sunken mole | |
| Across the mouth of the port, that so | |
| The galleys were foundered; and to and fro | 115 |
| No longer went forth: and merchants sought | |
| Harbors elsewhere for the stores they brought. | |
| The Lady Riberta’s ships went down | |
| In the offing; the city’s old renown | |
| Faded and fled with its commerce dead, | 120 |
| And the Lady Riberta begged for bread. | |
| |
| The hungry billows with rage and roar | |
| Have broken the ancient barriers o’er, | |
| And bitten their way into the shore, | |
| And where such traffic was wont to be | 125 |
| The voyager now can only see | |
| The spume and fret of the Zuyder-Zee. | |
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