The+King's+Threshold

YOUNGEST PUPIL. Die Seanchan and proclaim the right of the poets. SEANCHAN. Come nearer me, that I may know how faceDiffers from face, and touch you with my hands.O more than kin, O more than children could be,For children are but born out of our bloodAnd share our frailty. O my chicks, my chicks,That I have nourished underneath my wingsAnd fed upon my soul. (He stands up and begins to walkdown steps) I need no help.He needs no help that joy has lifted upLike some miraculous beast out of Ezekiel.The man that dies has the chief part in the story,And I will mock and mock and mock that image yonderThat evil picture in the sky--no, no--I have all my strength again, I will outface it.O look upon the moon that's standing thereIn the blue daylight--notice her complexionBecause it is the white of leprosyAnd the contagion that afflicts mankindFalls from the moon. When I and these are deadWe should be carried to some windy hillTo lie there with uncovered face awhileThat mankind and that leper there may knowDead faces laugh.(He falls and then half rises.)King, king, dead faces laugh.(He dies) OLDEST PUPIL. King, king, he is dead; some strange triumphant thoughtSo filled his heart with joy that it has burstBeing grown too mighty for our frailty,And we who gaze grow like him and abhorThe moments that come between us and that deathYou promised us. KING. Take up his body.Go where you please and lay it where you please,So that I cannot see his face or anyThat cried him towards his death. YOUNGEST PUPIL. Dead faces laugh!The ancient right is gone, the new remainsAnd that is death.(They go towards the king holding out their halters)We are impatient men,So gather up the halters in your hands. KING. Drive them away.(He goes into the palace. The soldiers block the way before the pupils.) SOLDIER. Here is no place for you,For he and his pretensions now are finished.Begone before the men at arms are biddenTo hurl you from the door. OLDEST PUPIL. Take up his bodyAnd cry that driven from the populous doorHe seeks high waters and the mountain birdsTo claim a portion of their solitude.(They make a litter with cloak and staffs and lay Seanchan on it.) YOUNGEST PUPIL. And cry that when they took his ancient rightThey took all common sleep; therefore he claimsThe mountain for his mattress and his pillow. OLDEST PUPIL. And there he can sleep on, not noticingAlthough the world be changed from worse to worse,Amid the changeless clamour of the curlew.(They raise the litter on their shoulders and move a few steps) YOUNGEST PUPIL. (motioning to them to stop)Yet make triumphant music; sing aloudFor coming times will bless what he has blessedAnd curse what he has cursed. OLDEST PUPIL. No, no, be still;Or pluck a solemn music from the strings.You wrong his greatness speaking so of triumph. YOUNGEST PUPIL. O silver trumpets, be you lifted upAnd cry to the great race that is to come.Long-throated swans upon the waves of timeSing loudly, for beyond the wall of the worldThat race may hear our music and awake. OLDEST PUPIL. (motioning the musicians to lower their trumpets)Not what it leaves behind it in the lightBut what it carries with it to the darkExalts the soul; nor song nor trumpet-blastCan call up races from the worsening worldTo mend the wrong and mar the solitudeOf the great shade we follow to the tomb.(Fedelm and the pupils go out carrying the litter. Some play a mournful music.)