The wise king dowered with blessings on his throne,
The rebel raising the flag in the market place,
Haunt me like figures on an ancient stone
The ponderous light of history beats upon,
Or the enigma of a single face
Handed unguessed, unread, from father to son,
As if it dreamt within itself alone.

Regent and rebel clash in horror and blood
Here in the blindfold battlefield. But there,
Motionless in the grove of evil and good,
They grow together and their roots are twined
In deep confederacy far from the air,
Sharing the secret trophy each with other;
And king and rebel are like brother and brother,
Or father and son, co-princes of one mind
Irreconcilables, their treaty signed.




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