Rasped harshly against his dainty nature, And seemed the one blot on the summer morn,- VI. The leper raised not the gold from the dust: "Better to me the poor man's crust, Better the blessing of the poor, Though I turn me empty from his door; That is no true alms which the hand can hold ; Who gives from a sense of duty; That thread of the all-sustaining Beauty For a god goes with it and makes it store To the soul that was starving in darkness before." 160 170 180 PRELUDE TO PART SECOND. I. DOWN swept the chill wind from the mountain peak, It had gathered all the cold, And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer's cheek; From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare; As the lashes of light that trim the stars : 190 Down through a frost-leaved forest-crypt, Sometimes the roof no fretwork knew But silvery mosses that downward grew; Sometime it was carved in sharp relief For the gladness of heaven to shine through, and here · No mortal builder's most rare device II. Within the hall are song and laughter; The cheeks of Christmas glow red and jolly, 200 210 1 The broad flame-pennons droop and flap And swift little troops of silent sparks, Now pausing, now scattering away as in fear, Go threading the soot-forest's tangled darks Like herds of startled deer. 230 III. But the wind without was eager and sharp, Of Sir Launfal's gray hair it makes a harp, And rattles and wrings The icy strings, Singing, in dreary monotone, A Christmas carol of its own, Whose burden still, as he might guess, Was "Shelterless, shelterless, shelterless!" The great hall-fire, so cheery and bold, Through the window-slits of the castle old, Build out its piers of ruddy light Against the drift of the cold. PART SECOND. I. THERE was never a leaf on bush or tree, For the weaver Winter its shroud had spun ; From its shining feathers shed off the cold sun; Again it was morning, but shrunk and cold, As if her veins were sapless and old, And she rose up decrepitly For a last dim look at earth and sea. 240 II. Sir Launfal turned from his own hard gate, 250 For another heir in his earldom sate; An old, bent man, worn out and frail, He came back from seeking the Holy Grail; No more on his surcoat was blazoned the cross, The badge of the suffering and the poor. |