The Poetical Works of George Barlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

Since the passing of the Master, death and sorrow and disaster,
Grief and battle and grim horror, all before our eyes have gleamed.
Since the impassioned marvellous singing through the listening world went ringing,
What has time accomplished? Little—of the deeds the poet dreamed.

II

Still the world he loved, predicting that our strifes and aims conflicting
Would be merged in peace made perfect in a nobler epoch born,
Struggles on, with anguish shaken. One by one life's hopes awaken:
One by one life's fair hopes perish, while the wild hours laugh in scorn.

III

Revolution's blood-bright glory still for Hugo closed the story
Of the people's timeless sorrow, brought unmeasured hopes to birth.
Then at last the strong sun's splendour forced all darkness to surrender,
So he deemed, proclaiming freedom to a saved exultant earth.

IV

Giant faith, supreme and splendid, ever widening, vast, extended
From our earth to farthest heaven,—reaching, fearless, down to hell!
How we miss the word that told us that Love's arms for ever hold us,
That with even the worst and saddest in the end it must be well.

V

To each woman, pale, heart-broken, some sweet word of new hope spoken
Should bring solace everlasting, joy that deepens evermore.
“Yes, at Judas' wild repentance, I would change, reverse, the sentence:
I would say to Judas, ‘Enter.’ I would open wide the door.”

VI

Since the poet's great soul left us, since at last Time's hand bereft us
Of the heart that sought grief's twilight, of the eyes that sought the sun,
Since that hour the world has darkened, men in vain have yearned and hearkened
For some voice of noble mandate, for some large song-victory won.

VII

Wars and pangs and desolation! For our sorrowing troubled nation
Ceased 'mid battle's peals of thunder the Victorian vast repose.
Through the forced down-beaten gateway surged in clamorous myriads straightway
All the spirits that foster discord, all love's strenuous dark-browed foes.

VIII

Strife in Africa raged chainless,—War's steeds, foaming, frantic, reinless,
Dragged their chariots over thousands and the children wailed and fell.
Who shall tell us, who shall measure, what was lost of love's pure treasure,
What was wasted of soul-brightness, what of heaven's heart entered hell?

IX

If, divine from heights above us, longing yet to serve, to love us,
On our earth the soul of Hugo, angel-great, majestic, gleamed,
How that pure soul must have shuddered as it watched the world unruddered
Drifting towards the white-mouthed breakers, knowing Love in vain had dreamed!

X

Then came Macedonia's terror—doubt, betrayal, darkness, error;
All the summer flowers as ever towards God's heaven their fragrance poured:
But amid the flowers were wailing sobs that sought heaven unavailing,
Forms that wrestled as with demons, forms that writhed upon the sword.

XI

Then in Eastern far-off regions mixed Japan's and Russia's legions;
Human blood-drops mingled ever with the white foam on the deep:
The bright moonbeams shone and sported on dead faces, weird, distorted,
Thousands hurled by man's inventions into sudden blood-stained sleep.

XII

Once the grand voice spake in thunder, and a world in silent wonder
Watched as Empire shook and tottered, as Napoleon reeled and fell.
Would not Hugo's great heart darken, if to-day he had to hearken
To the deepening wail of anguish of the world he loved so well?

XIII

Hugo's stern Republic fighting still with Rome, old feuds exciting
Ever newer hate and anger in the world he thought reborn!
Darkness still around us brooding, from the darkness still protruding
Clustered swords we never dreamed of, not a token as yet of morn!

XIV

Can he bend, divinely grieving, o'er us, he who died believing
That the God of love was near us? Can he reach us with a word?
If a deed was done inhuman, deadly wrong to man or woman,
Still his spirit, so he told us, in the thunder would be heard.

XV

Yes, we linger, hoping, praying that the stars their light conveying
To our earth may also bring us light of hope from souls afar:
That for man's redemption striving still works grandly, still surviving,
One whose heart with Christ's heart mingled, one whose soul is as a star.

1904.