 | The hours of the passion and other poems |  |
48
‘PER GAUDIA TUA’
Slowly the pale horizon dawned
Around an English wood,
Low lying in the fields of May;
And at its edge I stood.
Around an English wood,
Low lying in the fields of May;
And at its edge I stood.
There is no dark in Maytime,
Dim between dusk and dawn:
The small wild creatures of the night
Had noiselessly withdrawn;
Dim between dusk and dawn:
The small wild creatures of the night
Had noiselessly withdrawn;
The birds had not yet wakened:—
And down the hushed wood-walk
I heard a sweet sound coming
Of young and childish talk.
And down the hushed wood-walk
I heard a sweet sound coming
Of young and childish talk.
The cuckoo only rested not;
His wild and wandering note
All night had called from depths of air
So near, and so remote.
His wild and wandering note
All night had called from depths of air
So near, and so remote.
Light-footed came two visitants,
Through folded bush and bower;
Their garments, faintly shimmering,
Were like the white May-flower.
Through folded bush and bower;
Their garments, faintly shimmering,
Were like the white May-flower.
49
A dream of maiden loveliness
Seemed stranger-like to pass;
And by the hand a little child
She led along the grass.
Seemed stranger-like to pass;
And by the hand a little child
She led along the grass.
His face from out the under-maze
Broke like a wonder fresh;
The heavenly roses of the dawn
Were breathing in his flesh.
Broke like a wonder fresh;
The heavenly roses of the dawn
Were breathing in his flesh.
And both, with fond, familiar eyes,
That swerved not from their mark,
Through the protecting thicket thorns
Looked deep into the dark.
That swerved not from their mark,
Through the protecting thicket thorns
Looked deep into the dark.
They stayed their steps by nests concealed
Of many a song-bird brown;
The child stretched out his little hand,
And stroked the heads of down.
Of many a song-bird brown;
The child stretched out his little hand,
And stroked the heads of down.
Her darker mantle in their play
Had fallen from her head;
And all her hair about her neck
The boy's fond fingers spread.
Had fallen from her head;
And all her hair about her neck
The boy's fond fingers spread.
The Day-star in the glowing sky
Shone like the eyes serene,
Of her who seemed to be in years
The elder by fifteen.
Shone like the eyes serene,
Of her who seemed to be in years
The elder by fifteen.
The lovely world grew pale and light,
The calm world bathed in dew;
All through the sky, across the fields,
Sounded—Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
The calm world bathed in dew;
All through the sky, across the fields,
Sounded—Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
50
The child looked upwards to the loud
Aërial salute;
Her eyes were stars, but His were suns:—
He mused one moment, mute.
Aërial salute;
Her eyes were stars, but His were suns:—
He mused one moment, mute.
‘I hold,’ He said, ‘this small round globe,
That rolls within My hand;
I hear this cuckoo's floating call
In many a far-off land.
That rolls within My hand;
I hear this cuckoo's floating call
In many a far-off land.
‘The boundless forests of the North
Shake off their frozen dream;
Secret and irresistible,
The rushing, rustling stream
Shake off their frozen dream;
Secret and irresistible,
The rushing, rustling stream
‘Breaks, breaks, through stem, and branch, and leaf,
And wilds without a way,
Where twenty thousand fugitives
Are hiding night and day.
And wilds without a way,
Where twenty thousand fugitives
Are hiding night and day.
‘They hear the cuckoo's homeward call,
They feel the homeward thrill;
Flight! Flight! and Flight! whate'er befall:—
Oh, how they suffer still!’
They feel the homeward thrill;
Flight! Flight! and Flight! whate'er befall:—
Oh, how they suffer still!’
‘But, O my little Jesus!’
The Maiden-Mother said,
‘Dost Thou not love this England,
Where we before have played?
The Maiden-Mother said,
‘Dost Thou not love this England,
Where we before have played?
‘The copses and the meadows
Are all so cool and sweet;
The moss and the small grasses grow
Soft for Thy little feet.
Are all so cool and sweet;
The moss and the small grasses grow
Soft for Thy little feet.
51
‘And oh! the beds of primroses
For Thy own limbs seem made,
And for the heavenly night when I
Might Thee thereon have laid.
For Thy own limbs seem made,
And for the heavenly night when I
Might Thee thereon have laid.
‘Oh, blessèd is the narrow home,
And the belovèd hills!
Yet through the stones of Nazareth
Some awful boding thrills.
And the belovèd hills!
Yet through the stones of Nazareth
Some awful boding thrills.
‘But in this dewy England,
Where trickling brooks run clear,
I clasp Thee close, my little Child,
And I forget to fear!’
Where trickling brooks run clear,
I clasp Thee close, my little Child,
And I forget to fear!’
‘Across the sea,’ He answered,
‘They call it Angel-land;
But better than the Angels’
Thy own sweet name shall stand;
‘They call it Angel-land;
But better than the Angels’
Thy own sweet name shall stand;
‘And the fair sons and daughters
Of this most blessèd Isle,
Shall call it Mary's Dowry,
And flourish in thy smile.’
Of this most blessèd Isle,
Shall call it Mary's Dowry,
And flourish in thy smile.’
‘Oh! I must bring them apple-trees,
And blossom of the bean,
And plum-trees white, and cherry-trees,
And gardens in the green,
And blossom of the bean,
And plum-trees white, and cherry-trees,
And gardens in the green,
‘Of roses and campanulas,
And my tall lilies white,
And irises and marigolds:’
She spoke in her delight.
And my tall lilies white,
And irises and marigolds:’
She spoke in her delight.
52
‘But, O My Mother!’ and His voice
Was wistful then, and sad,
‘Out in the dawn together,
Are we not sometimes glad?
Was wistful then, and sad,
‘Out in the dawn together,
Are we not sometimes glad?
‘Have I not brought thee some sweet hours?
Is it all tears and pain?
Am I not thine for evermore?’—
The cuckoo called again.
Is it all tears and pain?
Am I not thine for evermore?’—
The cuckoo called again.
‘If I had never come to thee?—’
I heard the Child's voice say:
But they had passed my hiding-place,
Out on their own free way.
I heard the Child's voice say:
But they had passed my hiding-place,
Out on their own free way.
Then the long shadows suddenly
Swept over,—and Day broke;
And with the sun the thick white mist
Rose from the ground like smoke.
Swept over,—and Day broke;
And with the sun the thick white mist
Rose from the ground like smoke.
And swiftly each upcurling wave
Uncovered in its fold
Breadth after breadth of cowslip stalks,
And myriad heads of gold.
Uncovered in its fold
Breadth after breadth of cowslip stalks,
And myriad heads of gold.
The Child, the Mother, ankle-deep,
Stood in the fragrant sea;
And over them the morning mist
Rolled upward, silently.
Stood in the fragrant sea;
And over them the morning mist
Rolled upward, silently.
The veil of vapour rent, and left
The glittering meadow bare
And empty:—they had vanished too,
And were no longer there.
The glittering meadow bare
And empty:—they had vanished too,
And were no longer there.
53
But the height of heaven quivered with joy,
Where the larks hung out of sight;
And a happy bird on every bough
Sang praises to the light.
Where the larks hung out of sight;
And a happy bird on every bough
Sang praises to the light.
And through the wood a glint of blue
Was tracked, the stems between,
The deep-sea blue of hyacinths,
Where'er their steps had been.
Was tracked, the stems between,
The deep-sea blue of hyacinths,
Where'er their steps had been.
But 'mid the morning chorus
Of the May music wild,
I missed the heavenlier voices
Of the Mother and the Child.
Of the May music wild,
I missed the heavenlier voices
Of the Mother and the Child.
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