 | Fleet Street and Other Poems |  |
79
ECLOGUES
THE FEAST OF ST. HILARY
BERTRAM. LIONEL. SANDY. CYRIL. VIVIANBERTRAM
Your evolution, still so crude
In civic life, prefers to sit
In murky air of muslin stewed
With soot and sulphur of the pit.
In civic life, prefers to sit
In murky air of muslin stewed
With soot and sulphur of the pit.
LIONEL
Why, this is only London's own
Appurtenance in Janiveer
And winter months—a want of tone,
A jaundice of the atmosphere.
Appurtenance in Janiveer
And winter months—a want of tone,
A jaundice of the atmosphere.
VIVIAN
And every winter cheerful folk,
Six millions powerless to escape,
Upon this clammy muslin choke,
This filthy air of sodden crape.
Six millions powerless to escape,
Upon this clammy muslin choke,
This filthy air of sodden crape.
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BERTRAM
Expecting no imperial cure
From any corporate King Log
They undergo it, forte et dure,
The torture of the London fog.
From any corporate King Log
They undergo it, forte et dure,
The torture of the London fog.
And though habitual croakers croak,
A metaphysical desire
Not to consume our proper smoke,
Save when the chimney goes on fire,
A metaphysical desire
Not to consume our proper smoke,
Save when the chimney goes on fire,
Through urban and suburban deeps
Sub-conscious in the minds of all,
Explains the tolerance that keeps
Our fog a hardy annual.
Sub-conscious in the minds of all,
Explains the tolerance that keeps
Our fog a hardy annual.
LIONEL
I love the fog: in every street
Shrill muffled cries and shapes forlorn,
The frosted hoof with stealthy beat,
The hollow-sounding motor-horn:
Shrill muffled cries and shapes forlorn,
The frosted hoof with stealthy beat,
The hollow-sounding motor-horn:
A fog that lasts till, gently wrung
By Pythian pangs, we realise
That Doomsday somewhere dawns among
The systems and the galaxies,
By Pythian pangs, we realise
That Doomsday somewhere dawns among
The systems and the galaxies,
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And ruin at the swiftest rate
The chartered destinies pursue;
While as for us, our final fate
Already fixed with small ado,
The chartered destinies pursue;
While as for us, our final fate
Already fixed with small ado,
Spills on our heads no wrathful cup,
Nor wrecks us on a fiery shore,
But leaves us simply swallowed up
In London fog for evermore.
Nor wrecks us on a fiery shore,
But leaves us simply swallowed up
In London fog for evermore.
CYRIL
The admirable errantry
Of London's climate who can sing?
From fogs of filthy muslin free
Elastic as a morn of Spring,
Of London's climate who can sing?
From fogs of filthy muslin free
Elastic as a morn of Spring,
The weather like a dazzling bride
Undid the lonely winter, threw
The casemate of the orient wide
And made the enchanted world anew.
Undid the lonely winter, threw
The casemate of the orient wide
And made the enchanted world anew.
But yesterday, so quick and so
Chromatic is the climate here—
From russet mud to silver snow,
From radiant suns to fogs austere.
Chromatic is the climate here—
From russet mud to silver snow,
From radiant suns to fogs austere.
82
LIONEL
I watched the morning yesterday
Where from the ample stair you look
Across the Park beneath the gray
Ungainly column of the Duke:
Where from the ample stair you look
Across the Park beneath the gray
Ungainly column of the Duke:
You see him like a stylite true
Impaled upon his pillar stand;—
It seems to pierce him through and through,
The rod that braves the levin-brand.
Impaled upon his pillar stand;—
It seems to pierce him through and through,
The rod that braves the levin-brand.
Sunlit the other column glowed
Intensely, lifting to the skies
The admiral who swept the road
Of empire clear for centuries.
Intensely, lifting to the skies
The admiral who swept the road
Of empire clear for centuries.
Entangled on the Surrey-side
The eager day a moment hung,
Then struck in hate his ardent stride
And round the southern chimneys swung.
The eager day a moment hung,
Then struck in hate his ardent stride
And round the southern chimneys swung.
A silvery weft of finest lawn,
So thin, so phantom-like, became
Ethereal mystery scarcely drawn
Athwart the morning's saffron flame;
So thin, so phantom-like, became
Ethereal mystery scarcely drawn
Athwart the morning's saffron flame;
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The Palace and the Abbey lost
Their character of masonry,
Transformed to glittering shadows tossed
And buoyant on a magic sea;
Their character of masonry,
Transformed to glittering shadows tossed
And buoyant on a magic sea;
And park and lake and precincts old
Of Westminster were all arrayed
In spectral weeds of pearl and gold
And airy drifts of amber braid.
Of Westminster were all arrayed
In spectral weeds of pearl and gold
And airy drifts of amber braid.
BERTRAM
Ghastly and foul, as Hecate's ban
Pernicious are our fogs; but sweet
And wonderful the mists that can
Imparadise a London street:
Pernicious are our fogs; but sweet
And wonderful the mists that can
Imparadise a London street:
The fabrics winnowed sunbeams work
Of urban dew and smoky air;
The opalescences that lurk
In many a court and sombre square;
Of urban dew and smoky air;
The opalescences that lurk
In many a court and sombre square;
The tissued dawn that gems encrust,
The violet wreaths of noon, the haze
Of emerald and topaz dust
That shrouds the evening distances;
The violet wreaths of noon, the haze
Of emerald and topaz dust
That shrouds the evening distances;
And gloom in baths of light annealed . . .
84
LIONEL
From top to toe one travel-stain
You come! And whence?
SANDY
An outland weald
I come from, and a dateless reign
That modes and periods never touch.
BERTRAM
From Epping Forest, I'll be sworn,
The wilderness you haunt so much!
SANDY
No; from a less familiar bourne:
A Sussex chace renowned of old
Where withering innovation halts;
A tract of mingled wood and wold,
Of ragged heaths and ferny vaults.
Where withering innovation halts;
A tract of mingled wood and wold,
Of ragged heaths and ferny vaults.
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LIONEL
St. Leonard's Forest by your shoes
Over the latchet daubed with earth!
I know it well: the Mole, the Ouse,
Arun and Adur have their birth
Over the latchet daubed with earth!
I know it well: the Mole, the Ouse,
Arun and Adur have their birth
Among its silting springs; and there
The nightingale has never sung,
They say, so humid is the air,
So dank the woods with ivy hung.
The nightingale has never sung,
They say, so humid is the air,
So dank the woods with ivy hung.
In summer-time you lightly tread
On moss as green as emerald,
And soft as silken velvet spread
Along the forest chancel, stalled
On moss as green as emerald,
And soft as silken velvet spread
Along the forest chancel, stalled
With bowers of thorn and laurel-tree;
And roomier and loftier
Than forest aisles are wont to be,
The green groined roof of beech and fir
And roomier and loftier
Than forest aisles are wont to be,
The green groined roof of beech and fir
Admits a dulcet twilight filled
With golden motes and beryl hues,
That through the darkling thickets gild
Arun and Adur, Mole and Ouse.
With golden motes and beryl hues,
That through the darkling thickets gild
Arun and Adur, Mole and Ouse.
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SANDY
When I went out from Horsham town
A northern blast of winter's breath
Blew low across the open down
As hard as hate, as cold as death.
A northern blast of winter's breath
Blew low across the open down
As hard as hate, as cold as death.
Close to the land the firmament
Like a camp-ceiling clung; and nigh
The eaves of the horizon, bent
Like frowning brows, the ashen sky.
Like a camp-ceiling clung; and nigh
The eaves of the horizon, bent
Like frowning brows, the ashen sky.
Through ruined loopholes scattered wide
A pallid gleam; but as the path,
Leaving the highway, leapt aside
To gain the forest, winter's wrath,
A pallid gleam; but as the path,
Leaving the highway, leapt aside
To gain the forest, winter's wrath,
By sheltering hedgerows doubly balked,
Became a legendary thing,
And for a while beside me walked
The very presence of the spring.
Became a legendary thing,
And for a while beside me walked
The very presence of the spring.
A bridge that spans a pebbled burn
The threshold of the forest is;
And there like some dædalian urn,
Or sangreal of fragrances,
The threshold of the forest is;
And there like some dædalian urn,
Or sangreal of fragrances,
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A deeply sunk, a vaulted dell
Possessed the summer's inmost soul—
A captive, like the roseal smell
That haunts a seeming-empty bowl:
Possessed the summer's inmost soul—
A captive, like the roseal smell
That haunts a seeming-empty bowl:
Though all the roses, plucked and rent,
Are squandered, yet our essence knows
And greets the pure material scent,
Which is the spirit of the rose.
Are squandered, yet our essence knows
And greets the pure material scent,
Which is the spirit of the rose.
Within the forest-chancel, stalled
With bowers of evergreen and laid
With lustrous living emerald,
As rich a moss as spring displayed,
With bowers of evergreen and laid
With lustrous living emerald,
As rich a moss as spring displayed,
No green groined roof of fir and beech
Reflected bronze and beryl hues,
That could through darkling thickets reach
Arun and Adur, Mole and Ouse:
Reflected bronze and beryl hues,
That could through darkling thickets reach
Arun and Adur, Mole and Ouse:
Unthatched, instead of summer's leaves,
A roof, with ebon rafters bare,
Allowed the light in frosted sheaves
To silver all the wintry air.
A roof, with ebon rafters bare,
Allowed the light in frosted sheaves
To silver all the wintry air.
88
With clapping wings doves wheeled about
Between the pine-tops and the skies;
And blackbirds flitted in and out
The underwood with guttural cries;
Between the pine-tops and the skies;
And blackbirds flitted in and out
The underwood with guttural cries;
A throstle had begun to build
Though still untimed; but loud and long
The eager storm-cock sang and filled
The forest with his splendid song;
Though still untimed; but loud and long
The eager storm-cock sang and filled
The forest with his splendid song;
While spring, in winter's bosom warm,
Prologued in bough and bole and root
The pregnant trance of trees that form
The summer's foliage, flower and fruit.
Prologued in bough and bole and root
The pregnant trance of trees that form
The summer's foliage, flower and fruit.
BERTRAM
Harvest in winter's bosom sleeps,
While time his patient vigil keeps.
While time his patient vigil keeps.
89
ST. VALENTINE'S DAY
ERNEST. JULIANJULIAN
Virginia lives in a square;
I harbour at hand in a street:
And spring has begun over there;
So love like a pestilence sweet
Envenoms the neighbouring air.
I harbour at hand in a street:
And spring has begun over there;
So love like a pestilence sweet
Envenoms the neighbouring air.
ERNEST
No pestilence, Julian! Greet
The coming of Spring with delight.
Have done with your modish display
The cynic's intelligent spite
Arrives by the miriest way:
The ferment that works in the night
Of a prodigal, desolate day,
A morbid, acidulent scorn,
Have done with your modish display
The cynic's intelligent spite
Arrives by the miriest way:
The ferment that works in the night
Of a prodigal, desolate day,
Inhabits the vinegared lees
In bosoms condignly forlorn—
90
JULIAN
In bosoms philosophy frees
From the burden to which we are born!
ERNEST
In bosoms that nothing can please,
Being empty of pleasure and sunk
In themselves; being wizened and frail
Like vats when the wine has been drunk—
Being warped and unspeakably stale
Like vats in desuetude shrunk.
Let the season and nature prevail;
In themselves; being wizened and frail
Like vats when the wine has been drunk—
Being warped and unspeakably stale
Like vats in desuetude shrunk.
Let the season and nature prevail;
Let the winepress of youth overrun;—
JULIAN
If the valves be corroded with rust,
And the power and gearing undone!
ERNEST
Empurpled with stains of the must
My fancy, forestalling the sun—
JULIAN
In the city we take him on trust!
91
ERNEST
Disheartened the fog with a glance,
And tinctured with opulent dyes
Of the lily, the rose and the raunce
The sombre, the tenebrous skies—
With the tricoloured blazon of France,
And the light of a paramour's eyes!
And tinctured with opulent dyes
Of the lily, the rose and the raunce
The sombre, the tenebrous skies—
With the tricoloured blazon of France,
And the light of a paramour's eyes!
For this is St. Valentine's Day,
And my sweetheart came into the lane:
As I went by the speediest way,
Being late for the morning train,
Diana, in sweet disarray,
The wonder of women, was fain
And my sweetheart came into the lane:
As I went by the speediest way,
Being late for the morning train,
Diana, in sweet disarray,
The wonder of women, was fain
To see and be seen of me first!
JULIAN
How happy to love and be loved!
How wretched is he, how accursed,
Whom destiny handles ungloved!
ERNEST
The highest encounter the worst;
For they must be sifted and proved,
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While the rabble are shaken with ease
Through a wide-meshed riddle of fate.
Through a wide-meshed riddle of fate.
JULIAN
O spare your proverbial pleas
And the wisdom that wiseacres prate!
ERNEST
You said that philosophy frees—
JULIAN
From a passion I would not abate
For the wealth of the world all told?
From the exquisite alchemy pain,
That tortures the dross into gold?
I spoke in a negligent vein,
For I love like the lovers of old,
Adoring a woman's disdain,
From the exquisite alchemy pain,
That tortures the dross into gold?
I spoke in a negligent vein,
For I love like the lovers of old,
Adoring a woman's disdain,
That crushes the doughtiest hope.
ERNEST
You speak like a vassal of words,
The indolent slave of a trope!
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Into fifths and their jubilant scope;
And learn of St. Valentine's birds
That love is the herald of joy.
JULIAN
The pursuivant rather of care!
ERNEST
You must brood on her beauty and cloy
Your fancy, extinguish despair
With obdurate visions; destroy
Yourself in her excellence rare;
Be buried in dreams of her worth!
JULIAN
My heart with her excellence bleeds;
My dreams of her people the earth.
And the curse is, there's nothing she needs;
She is rich and a woman of birth,
While I am the son of my deeds.
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ERNEST
Achieve then a sire of renown;
Perform to the height and be great,
You have fought—
Perform to the height and be great,
You have fought—
JULIAN
And defeat was my crown!
When, naked, I wrestled with fate
The destinies trampled me down:—
I fought in the van and was great,
And I won, though I wore no crown,
In the lists of the world; for fate
And the destinies trampled me down—
The myrmidons trampled me down.
When, naked, I wrestled with fate
The destinies trampled me down:—
I fought in the van and was great,
And I won, though I wore no crown,
In the lists of the world; for fate
And the destinies trampled me down—
The myrmidons trampled me down.
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