The Poetical Works of James Thomson The City of Dreadful Night: By James Thomson ("B. V."): Edited by Bertram Dobell: With a Memoir of the Author: In two volumes |
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THE FADELESS BOWER |
 | The Poetical Works of James Thomson |  |
359
THE FADELESS BOWER
Athwart the gloom of haunted years,
Whose phantoms mock my lonely woe,
I gaze, and see through glimmering tears
A Vision of the Long-ago:
From out the waste verge dim and far
How purely gleams that single star!
Whose phantoms mock my lonely woe,
I gaze, and see through glimmering tears
A Vision of the Long-ago:
From out the waste verge dim and far
How purely gleams that single star!
Shine forth, sole star!—The dear old bower
And I therein alone with Her,
In that rich summer's crowning hour,
Whose quiet breathings scarcely stir
The woof of leaves and tendrils thin
Through which faint moonlight ripples in.
And I therein alone with Her,
In that rich summer's crowning hour,
Whose quiet breathings scarcely stir
The woof of leaves and tendrils thin
Through which faint moonlight ripples in.
I have this moment told my love;
Kneeling, I clasp her hands in mine:
She does not speak, she does not move;
The silent answer is divine.
The flood of rapture swells till breath
Is almost tranced in deathless death.
Kneeling, I clasp her hands in mine:
She does not speak, she does not move;
The silent answer is divine.
The flood of rapture swells till breath
Is almost tranced in deathless death.
360
Had He whom, 'midst the whirlwind's roar,
That fiery chariot's living light
Far through the Heaven of Heavens upbore,
Consuming space with meteor-flight,
God's glory dazzling on his gaze,—
Had he then breath for prayer or praise?
That fiery chariot's living light
Far through the Heaven of Heavens upbore,
Consuming space with meteor-flight,
God's glory dazzling on his gaze,—
Had he then breath for prayer or praise?
The bower is very dim and still;
But clustering in the copses near
Sweet nightingales impassioned thrill
The night with utterance full and clear
Of love and love's harmonious jars,
As glorious as the shining stars.
But clustering in the copses near
Sweet nightingales impassioned thrill
The night with utterance full and clear
Of love and love's harmonious jars,
As glorious as the shining stars.
My lips still lie upon her hand,
Quivering and faint beyond the kiss;
The heavens before my soul expand
Athrob with dazzling light and bliss;
He in his fiery car sublime
Soared not more swiftly out of Time.
Quivering and faint beyond the kiss;
The heavens before my soul expand
Athrob with dazzling light and bliss;
He in his fiery car sublime
Soared not more swiftly out of Time.
Behold her as she standeth there,
Breathless, with fixed awe-shadowed eyes
Beneath her moon-touched golden hair!
Her spirit's pure humilities
Are trembling, half would disavow
The crown I bring to crown her brow.
Breathless, with fixed awe-shadowed eyes
Beneath her moon-touched golden hair!
Her spirit's pure humilities
Are trembling, half would disavow
The crown I bring to crown her brow.
361
Unworthy crown; and yet her life
Was set on gaining it alone:
And now in triumph without strife
Led upward to the queenly throne,
She falters from the sceptre's weight,
While flushed with high-wrought pride elate.
Was set on gaining it alone:
And now in triumph without strife
Led upward to the queenly throne,
She falters from the sceptre's weight,
While flushed with high-wrought pride elate.
The simple folds of white invest
Her noble form, as purest snow
Some far and lovely mountain-crest
Faint-flushed with all the dawn's first glow;
Alone, resplendent, lifted high
Into the clear vast breathless sky.
Her noble form, as purest snow
Some far and lovely mountain-crest
Faint-flushed with all the dawn's first glow;
Alone, resplendent, lifted high
Into the clear vast breathless sky.
The bower is hushed and still as death;
The moonlight melting through its gloom
Is mingled with the languid breath
Of roses steeped in liquid bloom,
That bare their inmost hearts this night
To drink in deep the dew and light.
The moonlight melting through its gloom
Is mingled with the languid breath
Of roses steeped in liquid bloom,
That bare their inmost hearts this night
To drink in deep the dew and light.
So Thou, my Rose, my perfect Queen
Of Beauty, float and breathe, nor move,
In this enchanted air serene,
Unfolding all thy heart to love;
Drink in this dew of heavenly wine,
This light which is a soul divine.
Of Beauty, float and breathe, nor move,
In this enchanted air serene,
Unfolding all thy heart to love;
Drink in this dew of heavenly wine,
This light which is a soul divine.
362
The Vision fades . . . ah, woe, woe, woe!—
While dreamed that summer's sun-tranced hours
The ghastly Hand was creeping slow
Through all their maze of leaves and flowers,
And tore my Rose off when her breath
Was sweetest: O remorseless Death!—
While dreamed that summer's sun-tranced hours
The ghastly Hand was creeping slow
Through all their maze of leaves and flowers,
And tore my Rose off when her breath
Was sweetest: O remorseless Death!—
Could that one hour have been drawn out
Until the end of Time's whole range!
We rapt away, so sphered about,
And made eternal, free from change;
In heart and mind, in soul and frame
Preserved for evermore the same!
Until the end of Time's whole range!
We rapt away, so sphered about,
And made eternal, free from change;
In heart and mind, in soul and frame
Preserved for evermore the same!
The life of that great town afar
Would breathe its murmur vast and dim,
With all the multitudinous jar
Sublimed into a solemn hymn,
Mysterious, soothing, evermore,
As heaven may hear our harsh Life-roar:
Would breathe its murmur vast and dim,
With all the multitudinous jar
Sublimed into a solemn hymn,
Mysterious, soothing, evermore,
As heaven may hear our harsh Life-roar:
The overtrailing passion-flower
Gaze ever on the starry sky
With all its constellated bower
Of large and starlike blooms, which lie
Amidst their golden fruit beset
With leaves and tendrils dark-dew-wet:
Gaze ever on the starry sky
With all its constellated bower
Of large and starlike blooms, which lie
Amidst their golden fruit beset
With leaves and tendrils dark-dew-wet:
363
And I for ever kneel there still,
With lifted eyes whose yearning sight
Could never drink its perfect fill
From those dear eyes of love and light,
In which to me thy thoughts shine clear
As yon high stars in yon blue sphere:
With lifted eyes whose yearning sight
Could never drink its perfect fill
From those dear eyes of love and light,
In which to me thy thoughts shine clear
As yon high stars in yon blue sphere:
Entranced above the worded Yes,
All flushed and pale with rapturous shame,
In that dim moonlit quietness
You stand for evermore the same,
Fairer than heaven, the Queen who now
Is trembling as I crown her brow.
All flushed and pale with rapturous shame,
In that dim moonlit quietness
You stand for evermore the same,
Fairer than heaven, the Queen who now
Is trembling as I crown her brow.
Some ardent Seraph from above,
Some Angel ever growing young,
Would find this Eden of our love,
Sequestered all the worlds among;
With silent pinions gliding bright
Into our calm enchanted night.
Some Angel ever growing young,
Would find this Eden of our love,
Sequestered all the worlds among;
With silent pinions gliding bright
Into our calm enchanted night.
And, ushered by the chant divine
Of yonder deathless nightingales,
Through all the tree-shades reach our shrine;
And softly drawing back the veils
Of foliage let some fuller stream
Of moonlight bathe thy beauty's dream.
Of yonder deathless nightingales,
Through all the tree-shades reach our shrine;
And softly drawing back the veils
Of foliage let some fuller stream
Of moonlight bathe thy beauty's dream.
364
And gazing long, until his form
Might seem as fixed in trance as we,
Serenely perfect breathing warm,
Would sigh a sigh of mystery,
Half vague regrets, half longings sweet;
Then slow with lingering plumes retreat:
Might seem as fixed in trance as we,
Serenely perfect breathing warm,
Would sigh a sigh of mystery,
Half vague regrets, half longings sweet;
Then slow with lingering plumes retreat:
Murmuring, “It is a goddess born,
But left with mortals from her birth,
None knew that she was thus forlorn;
Till this one youth of all the earth,
Inspired to see her as divine,
Knelt down in reverence at her shrine.
But left with mortals from her birth,
None knew that she was thus forlorn;
Till this one youth of all the earth,
Inspired to see her as divine,
Knelt down in reverence at her shrine.
“Her native instincts roused to life
Leap up to claim the worship due,
Are breaking with imperial strife
The bonds of earthly custom through;
Yet still remains some sweet half-fear
At entrance to the unknown sphere.
Leap up to claim the worship due,
Are breaking with imperial strife
The bonds of earthly custom through;
Yet still remains some sweet half-fear
At entrance to the unknown sphere.
“But, oh, what glory, triumph, bliss,
The sudden revelation wrought!
What power had that young mortal's kiss
To thrill her thus beyond all thought?
She shares with him the Heavenly throne
Which he hath made indeed her own.
The sudden revelation wrought!
What power had that young mortal's kiss
To thrill her thus beyond all thought?
She shares with him the Heavenly throne
Which he hath made indeed her own.
365
“And hence while every other earth
Rolls circling through the vast abyss
With interchange of death and birth,
And night and day, and woe and bliss,
One sphere is kept for these alway
Above all growth and all decay.
Rolls circling through the vast abyss
With interchange of death and birth,
And night and day, and woe and bliss,
One sphere is kept for these alway
Above all growth and all decay.
“And here she blooms, a budded rose,
Whose crimson fire of life new-lit
Is ever fervent to unclose
The many-petalled wealth of it,
Embalmed from reaching to that prime
Which fades so soon in sultry Time.
Whose crimson fire of life new-lit
Is ever fervent to unclose
The many-petalled wealth of it,
Embalmed from reaching to that prime
Which fades so soon in sultry Time.
“New dawn, far fairer than the noon;
Hope, kinglier than thy crowning day;
Young spring's green promise fresh and boon,
No wealthiest summer's fruit can pay;
Dreamland, so rich beyond life's bounds;
Silence, more sweet than all sweet sounds!
Hope, kinglier than thy crowning day;
Young spring's green promise fresh and boon,
No wealthiest summer's fruit can pay;
Dreamland, so rich beyond life's bounds;
Silence, more sweet than all sweet sounds!
“While he who once was mean and poor
Is climbing strenuous toward the throne,
He breathes a loftier joy be sure
Than when the prize is made his own,
When reft of hope and valiant strife
He paces lordly-level life.
Is climbing strenuous toward the throne,
He breathes a loftier joy be sure
Than when the prize is made his own,
When reft of hope and valiant strife
He paces lordly-level life.
366
“O happy bud, for ever young,
For ever just about to blow!
O happy love, upon whose tongue
The Yes doth ever trembling grow!
O happiest Twain, whose deathless bower
Embalms you in life's crowning hour!” . . .
For ever just about to blow!
O happy love, upon whose tongue
The Yes doth ever trembling grow!
O happiest Twain, whose deathless bower
Embalms you in life's crowning hour!” . . .
The Seraph-murmurs die out low,
As fades the Vision, fades the Bower.
The bower has faded long ago;
The roses and the passion-flower
Have rotted in the sodden mould;
The new place quite forgets the old.
As fades the Vision, fades the Bower.
The bower has faded long ago;
The roses and the passion-flower
Have rotted in the sodden mould;
The new place quite forgets the old.
Ah, Alice, if I dream and dream,
What else is left me in this life?
New faces all about me teem,
New hopes and woes and loves are rife:
I overlived my own self, Dear,
In lingering when you left me here.
What else is left me in this life?
New faces all about me teem,
New hopes and woes and loves are rife:
I overlived my own self, Dear,
In lingering when you left me here.
And so my heart must soar away
To where alone its treasure is:
Despite my dream that we should stay
Entranced in unfulfilling bliss,
What fiery longings burn my breast
To reach, to gain, to be possessed!
To where alone its treasure is:
Despite my dream that we should stay
Entranced in unfulfilling bliss,
What fiery longings burn my breast
To reach, to gain, to be possessed!
367
Then fade, dim dream! and Sorrow, cease!
While I can trust, where'er you be,
That you are waiting my release
To live out to its depth with me,
In bowers or dens through noble spheres
The love suspended all these years.
While I can trust, where'er you be,
That you are waiting my release
To live out to its depth with me,
In bowers or dens through noble spheres
The love suspended all these years.
1858.
| The Poetical Works of James Thomson | |