 | The Poetical Works of John Payne |  |
196
BALLAD OF POETS.
WHAT do we here, who with reverted eyes
Turn back our longings from the modern air
To the dim gold of long-evanished skies,
When other songs in other mouths were fair?
Why do we stay the load of life to bear,
To measure still the weary worldly ways,
Waiting upon the still-recurring sun,
That ushers in another waste of days,
Of roseless Junes and unenchanted Mays?
Why but because our task is yet undone?
Turn back our longings from the modern air
To the dim gold of long-evanished skies,
When other songs in other mouths were fair?
Why do we stay the load of life to bear,
To measure still the weary worldly ways,
Waiting upon the still-recurring sun,
That ushers in another waste of days,
Of roseless Junes and unenchanted Mays?
Why but because our task is yet undone?
Were it not thus, could but our high emprise
Be once fulfilled, which of us would forbear
To seek that haven where contentment lies?
Who would not doff at once life's load of care,
To sleep at peace amid the silence there?
Ah, who, alas?—Across the heat and haze,
Death beckons to us in the shadow dun,
Favouring and fair. “My rest is sweet,” he says:
But we reluctantly avert our gaze;
Why but because our task is yet undone?
Be once fulfilled, which of us would forbear
To seek that haven where contentment lies?
Who would not doff at once life's load of care,
To sleep at peace amid the silence there?
Ah, who, alas?—Across the heat and haze,
Death beckons to us in the shadow dun,
Favouring and fair. “My rest is sweet,” he says:
But we reluctantly avert our gaze;
Why but because our task is yet undone?
Songs have we sung and many melodies
Have from our lips had issue rich and rare:
But never yet the conquering chant did rise,
That should ascend the very heaven's stair,
To rescue life from anguish and despair.
Often and again, drunk with delight of lays,
“Lo,” have we cried, “this is the golden one
That shall deliver us!”—Alas! Hope's rays
Die in the distance and life's sadness stays:
Why but because our task is yet undone?
Have from our lips had issue rich and rare:
But never yet the conquering chant did rise,
That should ascend the very heaven's stair,
To rescue life from anguish and despair.
Often and again, drunk with delight of lays,
“Lo,” have we cried, “this is the golden one
That shall deliver us!”—Alas! Hope's rays
Die in the distance and life's sadness stays:
Why but because our task is yet undone?
197
ENVOI.
Great God of Love, thou whom all poets praise,Grant that the aim of rest for us be won!
Let the light shine upon our life that strays,
Disconsolate, within the desert maze,
Why but because our task is yet undone?
| The Poetical Works of John Payne | |