In My Lady's Praise Being Poems, Old and New: Written to the Honour of Fanny, Lady Arnold and Now Collected for her Memory: By Sir Edwin Arnold |
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[Aquamarine—from Fancy's treasure-hall!]
Aquamarine—from Fancy's treasure-hall!
Yet sad to-day for me this sea-green stone;
For on the Channel-sands your light feet fall,
And I, among these millions, walk alone.
Yet sad to-day for me this sea-green stone;
For on the Channel-sands your light feet fall,
And I, among these millions, walk alone.
But, wave-stained jewel! shine with brighter thought!
It was across the Deep—years back—she came;
The billows, which are of thy colour, brought
That gentle face to us. For this I name
It was across the Deep—years back—she came;
The billows, which are of thy colour, brought
That gentle face to us. For this I name
The Beryl, water-tinted, as one stone
To spell you. On its lucent face is writ
μακρον απεστι τοπος—“all alone,
Far hence, among the wine-dark waves, they sit.”
To spell you. On its lucent face is writ
μακρον απεστι τοπος—“all alone,
Far hence, among the wine-dark waves, they sit.”
The “happy Isles,” he means, who carved that line;
For ancient sailors told a mystic story
How some had seen, had touched—in joy divine—
Makarôn nêsous, at the “Groups of Glory,”
For ancient sailors told a mystic story
How some had seen, had touched—in joy divine—
Makarôn nêsous, at the “Groups of Glory,”
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The sweet “Sea-Paradise”—so hints this Greek!
Ah, if wave-coloured gem could guide us there;
And we, far voyaging, might sight some peak
Unknown, unnamed—cleaving the tranquil air
Ah, if wave-coloured gem could guide us there;
And we, far voyaging, might sight some peak
Unknown, unnamed—cleaving the tranquil air
With pinnacles which feel no storm, and steeps
Lawny and lovely, where Death does not come,
Nor change, nor hate, nor care; but alway sleeps
The purple main around the perfect home!
Lawny and lovely, where Death does not come,
Nor change, nor hate, nor care; but alway sleeps
The purple main around the perfect home!
Where we should find delightful friends and lovers,
And hear no word of woe on any lip;
Opening glad eyes, as when the Dawn discovers
A sky of blue and gold, and ill dreams slip
And hear no word of woe on any lip;
Opening glad eyes, as when the Dawn discovers
A sky of blue and gold, and ill dreams slip
Back to that gloom which bred them: where the wonder
Of “whence” and “why” and “whither” would be known;
And we should lie, like Gods, above the thunder,
The Past perceived, the Future sure and shewn;
Of “whence” and “why” and “whither” would be known;
And we should lie, like Gods, above the thunder,
The Past perceived, the Future sure and shewn;
Such were great magic! But the Isles in mind
Rise farther than the farthest ocean, Dear!
Thither to sail—with e'er so fair a wind—
Asks more than toil of many a wandering year!
Rise farther than the farthest ocean, Dear!
Thither to sail—with e'er so fair a wind—
Asks more than toil of many a wandering year!
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We shall not reach them, save with Earth for vessel,
Sky for our sea, and for long voyage Life;
But if Love steers, at last our sails may nestle,
Furled in those far-off Isles—past storm and strife.
Sky for our sea, and for long voyage Life;
But if Love steers, at last our sails may nestle,
Furled in those far-off Isles—past storm and strife.
| In My Lady's Praise | |