 | [Poems by Moody in] William Vaughn Moody : A Study by David Dodds Henry |  |
THE BRIAR ROSE
I
‘O low strange hills,’ the minstrel said,
‘O low hills sad against the sun,
O starved trees where the moon hangs dead,
What plains are these, so vast and dun,
Ere my long way be over-won?
‘O low hills sad against the sun,
O starved trees where the moon hangs dead,
What plains are these, so vast and dun,
Ere my long way be over-won?
‘What snarls of wicket weed and grass
Clutch at my lute and bridle reign?
What dull bird cryeth as we pass?
Through what more lonely lands of pain
Dost lead me, O blind quest and vain?
Clutch at my lute and bridle reign?
What dull bird cryeth as we pass?
Through what more lonely lands of pain
Dost lead me, O blind quest and vain?
‘Slow, slow my steed, thy hoof-hold slips,
The way grows brambled, roofed and wet;
The air tastes sweet upon my lips!’
And as he peered out, fear-beset,
The roses held him like a net.
The way grows brambled, roofed and wet;
The air tastes sweet upon my lips!’
And as he peered out, fear-beset,
The roses held him like a net.
II
In loop and shaft and intertwine,
Sprang domed and pillared from the swamps
The ancient tangle of the vine;
Through purple vistæd underdamps
The ripe-heart roses shone for lamps.
Sprang domed and pillared from the swamps
The ancient tangle of the vine;
Through purple vistæd underdamps
The ripe-heart roses shone for lamps.
Couched low among the crowding stems
A slumbrous people suffered wrong,
Hoar kings brow-girt with ancient gems,
Dark breasts of warriors, scarred and strong,
And throats of boys laid bare for song.
A slumbrous people suffered wrong,
Hoar kings brow-girt with ancient gems,
Dark breasts of warriors, scarred and strong,
And throats of boys laid bare for song.
256
And as the wandering minstrel stood,
With terror was his spirit wrung,
To hear within the darkling wood
The sweet low hissing of the tongue
Wherewith these grievous folk were stung.
With terror was his spirit wrung,
To hear within the darkling wood
The sweet low hissing of the tongue
Wherewith these grievous folk were stung.
But unto longing was his heart
As shawn unto the shawn-player;
The thronging thicket yearned apart,
The lamping flowers as torches were
To light him on his way to her.
As shawn unto the shawn-player;
The thronging thicket yearned apart,
The lamping flowers as torches were
To light him on his way to her.
And silver lauds and trumpetings
Made festival along his veins,
‘Lo, many vassals, many kings,
Love curses utterly and banes,
But one, oh, at last attains!’
Made festival along his veins,
‘Lo, many vassals, many kings,
Love curses utterly and banes,
But one, oh, at last attains!’
III
Upon her threshold he was fain
To pause, till from the richer glooms
His eye might some clear vision gain,
And saw within the rush-strewn rooms
The maids asleep beside their looms.
To pause, till from the richer glooms
His eye might some clear vision gain,
And saw within the rush-strewn rooms
The maids asleep beside their looms.
Through worn leads of the lattice panes
The stealthy briar boughs had crept,
And shed their red and yellow rains
Upon the floor, and overleapt
The warp-frames where the weavers slept.
The stealthy briar boughs had crept,
And shed their red and yellow rains
Upon the floor, and overleapt
The warp-frames where the weavers slept.
Within the middle of the bower
The red moon through the vine lacings
Was sifted in a dreamy shower,
About a web's old picturings
Of slant horns and triumphant wings.
The red moon through the vine lacings
Was sifted in a dreamy shower,
About a web's old picturings
Of slant horns and triumphant wings.
Against the web angelical,
Where long ago, grown weary weak,
She drooped and let the shuttle fall,
Still drooped she, and her eyelids meek
Still darkened on his patient cheek.
Where long ago, grown weary weak,
She drooped and let the shuttle fall,
Still drooped she, and her eyelids meek
Still darkened on his patient cheek.
And as the minstrel gazed at her,
The forms upon the arrased wall
Seemed to take note of him and stir;
King leaned to bearded seneschal,
And spectral wrath was on them all.
The forms upon the arrased wall
Seemed to take note of him and stir;
King leaned to bearded seneschal,
And spectral wrath was on them all.
257
He thought of her uplifted eyes,
How they would pierce his spirit's core
With their importunate surmise;
And knew that death would be less sore
Than the still wonder that they wore.
How they would pierce his spirit's core
With their importunate surmise;
And knew that death would be less sore
Than the still wonder that they wore.
Upon his soul vain sorrow burst—
A phantasy, a sick man's whim;
The overweening love that durst
Conceive such bliss would be for him
Smote him with shame in every limb.
A phantasy, a sick man's whim;
The overweening love that durst
Conceive such bliss would be for him
Smote him with shame in every limb.
He saw his weary life outspread,
With all its grey and graceless days,
When for a dole of bitter bread
He had been fain, in hollow lays,
To sing a mindless tyrant's praise.
With all its grey and graceless days,
When for a dole of bitter bread
He had been fain, in hollow lays,
To sing a mindless tyrant's praise.
His childhood's trust seemed as a bough
Uncomforted of bud or leaf,
His boyhood's pride a poor hedge row
Of ragged thorn, and manhood's grief
A stony field without a sheaf.
Uncomforted of bud or leaf,
His boyhood's pride a poor hedge row
Of ragged thorn, and manhood's grief
A stony field without a sheaf.
So where he knelt he dared not touch
Her garment's hem; but seeing how
His soul was drowsy overmuch,
And it seemed nigh as sweet to bow,
And sleep her sleep while time should flow,—
Her garment's hem; but seeing how
His soul was drowsy overmuch,
And it seemed nigh as sweet to bow,
And sleep her sleep while time should flow,—
With quiet murmur over him
He let the lapping water close;
And as he sank from dream to dream
Through shuttled depths of green and rose,
Where peace like branching coral grows,
He let the lapping water close;
And as he sank from dream to dream
Through shuttled depths of green and rose,
Where peace like branching coral grows,
He smiled to think how she would wake,
And say, ‘How changed is all the place!
My minstrel here for my poor sake
Has slept right long, and now, for grace,
I cannot recollect his face!’
And say, ‘How changed is all the place!
My minstrel here for my poor sake
Has slept right long, and now, for grace,
I cannot recollect his face!’
| [Poems by Moody in] William Vaughn Moody : A Study by David Dodds Henry | |