Author: Madison Julius Cawein

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    I had not found the road too short,
    As once I had in days of youth,
    In that old forest of long ruth,
    Where my young knighthood broke its heart,
    Ere love and it had come to part,
    And lies made mockery of truth.
    I had not found the road too short.

    A blind man, by the nightmare way,
    Had set me right when I was wrong. - 
    I had been blind my whole life long - 
    What wonder then that on this day
    The blind should show me how astray
    My strength had gone, my heart once strong.
    A blind man pointed me the way.

    The road had been a heartbreak one,
    Of roots and rocks and tortured trees,
    And pools, above my horse's knees,
    And wandering paths, where spiders spun
    'Twixt boughs that never saw the sun,
    And silence of lost centuries.
    The road had been a heartbreak one.

    It seemed long years since that black hour
    When she had fled, and I took horse
    To follow, and without remorse
    To slay her and her paramour
    In that old keep, that ruined tower,
    From whence was borne her father's corse.
    It seemed long years since that black hour.

    And now my horse was starved and spent,
    My gallant destrier, old and spare;
    The vile road's mire in mane and hair,
    I felt him totter as he went: - 
    Such hungry woods were never meant
    For pasture: hate had reaped them bare.
    Aye, my poor beast was old and spent.

    I too had naught to stay me with;
    And like my horse was starved and lean;
    My armor gone; my raiment mean;
    Bare-haired I rode; uneasy sith
    The way I'd lost, and some dark myth
    Far in the woods had laughed obscene.
    I had had naught to stay me with.

    Then I dismounted. Better so.
    And found that blind man at my rein.
    And there the path stretched straight and plain.
    I saw at once the way to go.
    The forest road I used to know
    In days when life had less of pain.
    Then I dismounted. Better so.

    I had but little time to spare,
    Since evening now was drawing near;
    And then I thought I saw a sneer
    Enter into that blind man's stare:
    And suddenly a thought leapt bare, - 
    What if the Fiend had set him here! - 
    I still might smite him or might spare.

    I braced my sword: then turned to look:
    For I had heard an evil laugh:
    The blind man, leaning on his staff,
    Still stood there where my leave I took:
    What! did he mock me? Would I brook
    A blind fool's scorn? - My sword was half
    Out of its sheath. I turned to look:

    And he was gone. And to my side
    My horse came nickering as afraid.
    Did he too fear to be betrayed? - 
    What use for him? I might not ride.
    So to a great bough there I tied,
    And left him in the forest glade:
    My spear and shield I left beside.

    My sword was all I needed there.
    It would suffice to right my wrongs;
    To cut the knot of all those thongs
    With which she'd bound me to despair,
    That woman with her midnight hair,
    Her Circe snares and Siren songs.
    My sword was all I needed there.

    And then that laugh again I heard,
    Evil as Hell and darkness are.
    It shook my heart behind its bar
    Of purpose, like some ghastly word.
    But then it may have been a bird,
    An owlet in the forest far,
    A raven, croaking, that I heard.

    I loosed my sword within its sheath;
    My sword, disuse and dews of night
    Had fouled with rust and iron-blight.
    I seemed to hear the forest breathe
    A menace at me through its teeth
    Of thorns 'mid which the way lay white.
    I loosed my sword within its sheath.

    I had not noticed until now
    The sun was gone, and gray the moon
    Hung staring; pale as marble hewn; - 
    Like some old malice, bleak of brow,
    It glared at me through leaf and bough,
    With which the tattered way was strewn.
    I had not noticed until now.

    And then, all unexpected, vast
    Above the tops of ragged pines
    I saw a ruin, dark with vines,
    Against the blood-red sunset massed:
    My perilous tower of the past,
    Round which the woods thrust giant spines.
    I never knew it was so vast.

    Long while I stood considering. - 
    This was the place and this the night.
    The blind man then had set me right.
    Here she had come for sheltering.
    That ruin held her: that dark wing
    Which flashed a momentary light.
    Some time I stood considering.

    Deep darkness fell. The somber glare
    Of sunset, that made cavernous eyes
    Of those gaunt casements 'gainst the skies,
    Had burnt to ashes everywhere.
    Before my feet there rose a stair
    Of oozy stone, of giant size,
    On which the gray moon flung its glare.

    Then I went forward, sword in hand,
    Until the slimy causeway loomed,
    And huge beyond it yawned and gloomed
    The gateway where one seemed to stand,
    In armor, like a burning brand,
    Sword-drawn; his visor barred and plumed.
    And I went toward him, sword in hand.

    He should not stay revenge from me.
    Whatever lord or knight he were,
    He should not keep me long from her,
    That woman dyed in infamy.
    No matter. God or devil he,
    His sword should prove no barrier. - 
    Fool! who would keep revenge from me!

    And then I heard, harsh over all,
    That demon laughter, filled with scorn:
    It woke the echoes, wild, forlorn,
    Dark in the ivy of that wall,
    As when, within a mighty hall,
    One blows a giant battle-horn.
    Loud, loud that laugh rang over all.

    And then I struck him where he towered:
    I struck him, struck with all my hate:
    Black-plumed he loomed before the gate:
    I struck, and found his sword that showered
    Fierce flame on mine while black he glowered
    Behind his visor's wolfish grate.
    I struck; and taller still he towered.

    A year meseemed we battled there:
    A year; ten years; a century:
    My blade was snapped; his lay in three:
    His mail was hewn; and everywhere
    Was blood; it streaked my face and hair;
    And still he towered over me.
    A year meseemed we battled there.

    "Unmask!" I cried. "Yea, doff thy casque!
    Put up thy visor! fight me fair!
    I have no mail; my head is bare!
    Take off thy helm, is all I ask!
    Why dost thou hide thy face? - Unmask!" - 
    My eyes were blind with blood and hair,
    And still I cried, "Take off thy casque!"

    And then once more that laugh rang out
    Like madness in the caves of Hell:
    It hooted like some monster well,
    The haunt of owls, or some mad rout
    Of witches. And with battle shout
    Once more upon that knight I fell,
    While wild again that laugh rang out.

    Like Death's own eyes his glared in mine,
    As with the fragment of my blade
    I smote him helmwise; huge he swayed,
    Then crashed, like some cadaverous pine,
    Uncasqued, his face in full moonshine:
    And I - I saw; and shrank afraid.
    For, lo! behold! the face was mine.

    What devil's work was here! - What jest
    For fiends to laugh at, demons hiss! - 
    To slay myself? and so to miss
    My hate's reward? - revenge confessed! - 
    Was this knight I? - My brain I pressed. - 
    Then who was he who gazed on this? - 
    What devil's work was here! -    - What jest!

    It was myself on whom I gazed - 
    My darker self! - With fear I rose. - 
    I was right weak from those great blows. - 
    I stood bewildered, stunned and dazed,
    And looked around with eyes amazed. - 
    I could not slay her now, God knows! - 
    Around me there a while I gazed.

    Then turned and fled into the night,
    While overhead once more I heard
    That laughter, like some demon bird
    Wailing in darkness. - Then a light
    Made clear a woman by that knight.
    I saw 'twas she, but said no word,
    And silent fled into the night.

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Type of Poem: Ballad

Date Written:

Date Published:

Language: English

Keywords: Public Domain

Source: Public Domain Collection

Publisher:

Rights/Permissions: Public Domain

Comments/Notes: This poem is a complex, narrative-driven piece that explores themes of self-reflection, guilt, revenge, and the duality of human nature. The story unfolds in a medieval setting, with the protagonist embarking on a journey of vengeance, only to encounter his darker self. The tone is somber and introspective, filled with remorse and self-reproach.

The poet employs a consistent, structured rhyme scheme, giving the poem a rhythmic quality that enhances the narrative flow. The use of vivid, descriptive language and powerful imagery creates a haunting, foreboding atmosphere, drawing the reader into the protagonist's inner turmoil.

A significant literary device used in the poem is foreshadowing, as seen in the encounter with the blind man, which hints at the protagonist's impending self-realization. The poem culminates in a dramatic climax where the protagonist comes face to face with his 'darker self', which is a metaphorical representation of his guilt and self-loathing.

Ultimately, the poem is a profound exploration of the human psyche, questioning the destructive power of revenge and the necessity of self-discovery and introspection. It suggests that our inner demons can be more daunting than external enemies, and that only by confronting them can we hope to find peace.