SIR PALAMEDES, THE SARACEN KNIGHT
Then as he rushes forth the note
Roars from that Beast’s malignant throat
With laughter, laughter, laughter, laughter!
The wits of Palamedes float
In ecstasy of shame and rage.
“O Thou!” exclaims the baffled sage;
“ How should I match Thee? Yet, I will so,
Though Doomisday devour the Age.
Weeping, and beating on his breast,
Gnashing his teeth, he still confessed
The might of the dread oath that bound him:
He would not yet give up the quest.
“Nay! while I am,” quoth he, “ though Hell
Engulph me, though God mock me well,
I follow as I sware; I follow,
Though it be unattainable.
Nay, more! Because I may not win,
Is’t worth man’s work to enter in!
The Infinite with mighty passion
Hath caught my spirit in a gin.
Come! since I may not imitate
The Beast, at least I work and wait.
We shall discover soon or late
Which is the master—I or Fate!”
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