The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley [i.e. J. B. L. Warren] |
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| II. |
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| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
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 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
Orestes—Archedice—Medius—The Envoy
ORESTES
THE ENVOY
He falls, and, lo, he falls
Too surely stricken by his own sure hand.
O house, O royal and accursed halls
Fertile in curses, this thy crowning woe
Is stricken home.
ARCHEDICE
O gentle, brave, and dear,
Linger a little with us, while my voice
Can reach you. Once you told me in old jest—
You had scratched your hand and I had wrapt my hair
About it, children both—that it could cure you:
And lo this noble life-blood staunches not:
I would bind up the gash with my poor hair,
And it reds all its yellow: and your eyes
Are smiling very faintly, as I think
At my most useless care: O dear Orestes,
Linger a little. Once you said you loved me.
ORESTES
O sweet, your voice has power to hold me back,
Even at the porch of the fierce light of dreams.
It is the only thread that binds me now.
I do not think my Medius envies me
The last dear fancy of a dying man:
Lay now your lips most gently upon mine
And say, that, after Medius, you loved me
Something.
ARCHEDICE
O dear Orestes, how I loved thee.
ORESTES
And this being spoken, there is end—
MEDIUS
Flow out,
True heart, and great gods raise thee to their throne.
THE ENVOY
O lords, that stand around and have such tears,
The earth is orphaned of her noblest son.
Lo, I bend down, and with a reverent hand,
I draw his mantle over the sacred face,
And the mouth brightened by the smile he died with.
And know, ye sad Larissa's citizens,
That the gods surely loved this prince of yours,
Taking him early to his beautiful rest.
They count not mortals happy by the rule
Of earthly pleasure, else were he not blest.
Nay, but they hold him greatest, who has known
To overcome most evil, keeping white
His soul the while: and in their keen strong hands
They hold all issues, and, to their clean eyes,
Evil is good, that greatens a man's soul.
CHORUS
O royal, sleep: clothe thee with fair great rest;
There is no shadow on thy face of pain.
Sleep and forget the toil and stain of time,
O youthful and unblest.
Who shall prevail environed as thou wert
With evil, young in days?
Who shall return with laughter if god's curse
Set arrow on her string?
Ah, gentle, no pollution of thine own
Hath steeped thy brows with shade.
We reason not with Fate, for she is great
And over love and tears;
Her lord allowed her masterdom of these,
But gave her mercy none.
Therefore art thou descended from the light
And wood and shower and wave,
And made a triumph of the realm of shade,
Where is no love nor song,
Nay not a little love nor any smile,
But Lethe, best of all,
Night and farewell and darkness and old dream—
Noblest, and thou farewell.
ORESTES
Kind old man,
Envoy of Crannon, thee I thank that now
I stand hard by conclusion. With thine aid
I have unravelled all and punished much.
Therefore I deeply thank thee with full heart
Touching thy hand, hail honoured in thine years.
Bear thou my greeting to the lords of Crannon,
Tell them Orestes did not shame their blood,
Being a little brave, and somewhat noble
As the world goes, doing his poor mean best,
But a bad fate had mixed him in its toils.
Commend me to thy lords, I have a prayer
To these anon. And thou, my Medius, hail,
Approach with thy young love, and I will breathe
Blessing upon you both: lay there thy hand,
And now thy soft one, my Archedice,
To meet it thus. I breathe my soul upon you.
The god who made the love between you bud
Shall guard its full-blown glory: O, I see,
The lengthening on of all your happy years.
When I am gone my exile—as I go—
Lo I would have you rulers in my room.
Behold, O envoy, I entrust my realm
To Medius, in his stable hands I lay
The jewel staff and globe: confirm me, envoy,
Here with thy hand, that Crannon and thy lords
Preserve my sure election. They are strong
And in their shadow shall my choice prevail:
My mother she is broken from her pride,
And may not rule again: I do not think,
That she would rule again, if one should come
And say “rule thou.”
Envoy of Crannon, thee I thank that now
I stand hard by conclusion. With thine aid
I have unravelled all and punished much.
Therefore I deeply thank thee with full heart
Touching thy hand, hail honoured in thine years.
Bear thou my greeting to the lords of Crannon,
Tell them Orestes did not shame their blood,
Being a little brave, and somewhat noble
As the world goes, doing his poor mean best,
But a bad fate had mixed him in its toils.
Commend me to thy lords, I have a prayer
To these anon. And thou, my Medius, hail,
Approach with thy young love, and I will breathe
Blessing upon you both: lay there thy hand,
And now thy soft one, my Archedice,
To meet it thus. I breathe my soul upon you.
The god who made the love between you bud
Shall guard its full-blown glory: O, I see,
The lengthening on of all your happy years.
When I am gone my exile—as I go—
Lo I would have you rulers in my room.
Behold, O envoy, I entrust my realm
To Medius, in his stable hands I lay
The jewel staff and globe: confirm me, envoy,
Here with thy hand, that Crannon and thy lords
Preserve my sure election. They are strong
And in their shadow shall my choice prevail:
My mother she is broken from her pride,
And may not rule again: I do not think,
That she would rule again, if one should come
And say “rule thou.”
And now, O strange lord, Death,
Thou floating dream so near us all our lives,
Thee we put forth our hand and often touch
And know it not. O I have never feared thee.
Let those with many loves and specious ease,
Tremble where no fear is. For I have gazed,
Ay, very closely in thy terrible eyes,
And found them tender as a mother's, more
Tender than mine. O I have felt thy hand,
And found it answer more than mortal love's,—
Have thou no anger with me, O great lord,
If loving thee so much and wearied out,
I come uncalled, and dare invade thy realm
Trustful of welcome yet without thy leave.
Thou floating dream so near us all our lives,
Thee we put forth our hand and often touch
258
Let those with many loves and specious ease,
Tremble where no fear is. For I have gazed,
Ay, very closely in thy terrible eyes,
And found them tender as a mother's, more
Tender than mine. O I have felt thy hand,
And found it answer more than mortal love's,—
Have thou no anger with me, O great lord,
If loving thee so much and wearied out,
I come uncalled, and dare invade thy realm
Trustful of welcome yet without thy leave.
Now is the road right open to mine eyes,
I feel a spirit, and this dull flesh breaks
In exaltation shedding off my shame.
Fire wavers in mine eyes and the hills flash
In awful red around me. Sheets of light
Spread back in heaven; there seems a breadth of lake
With other meres beyond it infinite,
Where strange successions of immortal lights
Are crisped upon them. Now are my limbs air,
And to the great change I step proudly down
Without one sigh, without one fear—my dagger,
Speak thou the rest.
I feel a spirit, and this dull flesh breaks
In exaltation shedding off my shame.
Fire wavers in mine eyes and the hills flash
In awful red around me. Sheets of light
Spread back in heaven; there seems a breadth of lake
With other meres beyond it infinite,
Where strange successions of immortal lights
Are crisped upon them. Now are my limbs air,
And to the great change I step proudly down
Without one sigh, without one fear—my dagger,
Speak thou the rest.
THE ENVOY
He falls, and, lo, he falls
Too surely stricken by his own sure hand.
O house, O royal and accursed halls
Fertile in curses, this thy crowning woe
Is stricken home.
ARCHEDICE
O gentle, brave, and dear,
Linger a little with us, while my voice
Can reach you. Once you told me in old jest—
You had scratched your hand and I had wrapt my hair
About it, children both—that it could cure you:
And lo this noble life-blood staunches not:
I would bind up the gash with my poor hair,
And it reds all its yellow: and your eyes
Are smiling very faintly, as I think
At my most useless care: O dear Orestes,
Linger a little. Once you said you loved me.
259
O sweet, your voice has power to hold me back,
Even at the porch of the fierce light of dreams.
It is the only thread that binds me now.
I do not think my Medius envies me
The last dear fancy of a dying man:
Lay now your lips most gently upon mine
And say, that, after Medius, you loved me
Something.
ARCHEDICE
O dear Orestes, how I loved thee.
ORESTES
And this being spoken, there is end—
MEDIUS
Flow out,
True heart, and great gods raise thee to their throne.
THE ENVOY
O lords, that stand around and have such tears,
The earth is orphaned of her noblest son.
Lo, I bend down, and with a reverent hand,
I draw his mantle over the sacred face,
And the mouth brightened by the smile he died with.
And know, ye sad Larissa's citizens,
That the gods surely loved this prince of yours,
Taking him early to his beautiful rest.
They count not mortals happy by the rule
Of earthly pleasure, else were he not blest.
Nay, but they hold him greatest, who has known
To overcome most evil, keeping white
His soul the while: and in their keen strong hands
They hold all issues, and, to their clean eyes,
Evil is good, that greatens a man's soul.
CHORUS
O royal, sleep: clothe thee with fair great rest;
There is no shadow on thy face of pain.
Sleep and forget the toil and stain of time,
O youthful and unblest.
260
With evil, young in days?
Who shall return with laughter if god's curse
Set arrow on her string?
Ah, gentle, no pollution of thine own
Hath steeped thy brows with shade.
We reason not with Fate, for she is great
And over love and tears;
Her lord allowed her masterdom of these,
But gave her mercy none.
Therefore art thou descended from the light
And wood and shower and wave,
And made a triumph of the realm of shade,
Where is no love nor song,
Nay not a little love nor any smile,
But Lethe, best of all,
Night and farewell and darkness and old dream—
Noblest, and thou farewell.
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |