 | In Russet & Silver |  |
27
A TRAGEDY WITHOUT WORDS
Passion no more in these last days requires
The old stock-rant of vows and darts and fires;
We quit the frantic stage, and turn to see
A finer art, a tenderer mimicry,
But find, as through this subtler world we rove,
That, tho' a sworn Carthusian, love is Love.
The old stock-rant of vows and darts and fires;
We quit the frantic stage, and turn to see
A finer art, a tenderer mimicry,
But find, as through this subtler world we rove,
That, tho' a sworn Carthusian, love is Love.
Hear, in a house of peaceful days and nights,
Full of sequestered virtues, cold delights,
How two young souls could, unsuspected, fashion
A long-drawn elfin tragedy of passion.
No vows were made, no sealèd springs were broken,
No kiss was given, no word of love was spoken;
Among calm faces clustered round the fire,
These two played out their drama of desire.
Full of sequestered virtues, cold delights,
How two young souls could, unsuspected, fashion
A long-drawn elfin tragedy of passion.
No vows were made, no sealèd springs were broken,
No kiss was given, no word of love was spoken;
Among calm faces clustered round the fire,
These two played out their drama of desire.
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Who knows what unseen prompter pulled the strings?
What curtain sank and wrapped them round with wings?
Not Bion, not Sebaste! Yet they know
A wild wind drove their spirits to and fro,
Swept by,—and left them, when it passed away,
Two weary actors in a finished play.
What curtain sank and wrapped them round with wings?
Not Bion, not Sebaste! Yet they know
A wild wind drove their spirits to and fro,
Swept by,—and left them, when it passed away,
Two weary actors in a finished play.
Heaven, air, and earth, spectators nothing loth,
Hung at their lips, surmised, and watched them both;
What did the March grey sky divine at length
In that sparse wood where the wind spent its strength?
Each twig of ash, contorted, tipped with black,
Whipped Bion on, and strained him at the rack;
Each primrose, darting from the arms of Death,
Dazzled Sebaste, caught her panting breath;
He plucked a flower, and with a masking jest
Craved leave to lay it on her silken breast;
She laughed, but though they both dissembled well,
One act was over, and the curtain fell.
Hung at their lips, surmised, and watched them both;
What did the March grey sky divine at length
In that sparse wood where the wind spent its strength?
Each twig of ash, contorted, tipped with black,
Whipped Bion on, and strained him at the rack;
Each primrose, darting from the arms of Death,
Dazzled Sebaste, caught her panting breath;
He plucked a flower, and with a masking jest
Craved leave to lay it on her silken breast;
She laughed, but though they both dissembled well,
One act was over, and the curtain fell.
29
Now thro' that noiseless house by day and night
The keen electric storm rose to its height.
What beating hearts, what dewy-glistening eyes,
What breathless questions, what demure replies!
The scented twirls of wood-smoke, thin and blue,
Straight to their inmost souls like incense flew;
When the logs fell, they started as from sleep,
Watched o'er the hearth the smouldering ruin creep,
Stole glances, met in lightning, sped apart,—
Each sitting languid with a throbbing heart.
The keen electric storm rose to its height.
What beating hearts, what dewy-glistening eyes,
What breathless questions, what demure replies!
The scented twirls of wood-smoke, thin and blue,
Straight to their inmost souls like incense flew;
When the logs fell, they started as from sleep,
Watched o'er the hearth the smouldering ruin creep,
Stole glances, met in lightning, sped apart,—
Each sitting languid with a throbbing heart.
So runs another act; next morning, see
Another actor, and their parts are three!
That blue-grey form! that rich and jetty throat!
Hark! from a russet breast that liquid note!
How like a flash the redstart's sudden flight
Darts warm with love across Sebaste's sight!
How sleek the wings which back discreetly move,—
Like Bion's thoughts that hover round his love!
The shapely bird, those thorny boughs between,
Pours out his song, a god from a machine,
Folds and unfolds his twinkling tail in sport,
Twits now a challenge, now a brisk retort,
And makes the lover-pair so fiercely glad
That they could die for joy,—they feel so sad.
Another actor, and their parts are three!
That blue-grey form! that rich and jetty throat!
Hark! from a russet breast that liquid note!
How like a flash the redstart's sudden flight
Darts warm with love across Sebaste's sight!
How sleek the wings which back discreetly move,—
Like Bion's thoughts that hover round his love!
The shapely bird, those thorny boughs between,
Pours out his song, a god from a machine,
Folds and unfolds his twinkling tail in sport,
Twits now a challenge, now a brisk retort,
30
That they could die for joy,—they feel so sad.
But when the snow along the woodland crest
Caught them at dusk, their pain was worst and best.
Within Sebaste's heart the flood rose higher,
A keener perfume whirled across the pyre;
She felt his breath along her cheek, and glanced
Sidelong, where on dark air his profile danced;
Her hand lay tingling on his bended arm,
Each finger thrilled to find the sleeve so warm,
While down her shell-pink cheek, severe and pure,
Long lashes drooped with maiden mirth demure.
Caught them at dusk, their pain was worst and best.
Within Sebaste's heart the flood rose higher,
A keener perfume whirled across the pyre;
She felt his breath along her cheek, and glanced
Sidelong, where on dark air his profile danced;
Her hand lay tingling on his bended arm,
Each finger thrilled to find the sleeve so warm,
While down her shell-pink cheek, severe and pure,
Long lashes drooped with maiden mirth demure.
This was the hour! but Bion's swifter heat
Outstepped his pulse, and flung him at her feet,
Tame with excess of boldness just when she
Was ready for the mutual mastery;
The longed-for moment in the sparkling air,
The frost which twinkled in her tawny hair,
The gathering nonchalance in maiden blood,—
All, all were wasted on his flagging mood;
The spent bow twanged not, and 'twas all in vain
Sebaste smiled on his uncouth disdain;
He found no word, till she began to link
A scarlet anger with her white and pink,
And then—'twas worse than none; and dull and wan
Back thro' the whitening woods went maid and man.
Outstepped his pulse, and flung him at her feet,
Tame with excess of boldness just when she
Was ready for the mutual mastery;
The longed-for moment in the sparkling air,
The frost which twinkled in her tawny hair,
The gathering nonchalance in maiden blood,—
All, all were wasted on his flagging mood;
The spent bow twanged not, and 'twas all in vain
Sebaste smiled on his uncouth disdain;
31
A scarlet anger with her white and pink,
And then—'twas worse than none; and dull and wan
Back thro' the whitening woods went maid and man.
That night the frosty world was whelmed in rain,
With restless hand wearying the window-pane;
Deep in each silent twilight chamber lay
A heart that weighed the fortunes of the day;
Slowly the blank night wasted; sleep at last
Cooled each loud pulse, and closed each eyelid fast.
With restless hand wearying the window-pane;
Deep in each silent twilight chamber lay
A heart that weighed the fortunes of the day;
Slowly the blank night wasted; sleep at last
Cooled each loud pulse, and closed each eyelid fast.
Sebaste waked; the pale blue sky peeped in
And helped the cool transition to begin;
Within her breast the night's cold seal had set
Its deep conviction, “Better to forget”;
The hour of joyous abnegation past,
The virginal reaction fall'n at last,
She, looking back in wonder at the stir
Of pulses thrilled, held them no part of her,
And pressed her slender wrists with joy to find
Herself restored to her own quiet mind.
And helped the cool transition to begin;
Within her breast the night's cold seal had set
Its deep conviction, “Better to forget”;
The hour of joyous abnegation past,
The virginal reaction fall'n at last,
She, looking back in wonder at the stir
Of pulses thrilled, held them no part of her,
And pressed her slender wrists with joy to find
Herself restored to her own quiet mind.
32
Bion, meanwhile, blushing with rage, rehearsed
The uncaptured hour, and his false coldness curst,
Ran o'er the tortures of the dark, and found
No ambush from the archers' stalking ground,—
No ambush except one, the vow to borrow
From last night's weakness strength to win the morrow,
Nor ever battled in so brave a heat
As now, upon the sting of his defeat.
The uncaptured hour, and his false coldness curst,
Ran o'er the tortures of the dark, and found
No ambush from the archers' stalking ground,—
No ambush except one, the vow to borrow
From last night's weakness strength to win the morrow,
Nor ever battled in so brave a heat
As now, upon the sting of his defeat.
They met afar. Loathing his faint disdain,
With passion seven times heated in his brain,
Bion gazed humbly at her distant eyes,
Noted her questions, weighed her light replies,
Marked when she rose, and joined her at the lawn,
Voiceless, by cords of tender longing drawn.
With passion seven times heated in his brain,
Bion gazed humbly at her distant eyes,
Noted her questions, weighed her light replies,
Marked when she rose, and joined her at the lawn,
Voiceless, by cords of tender longing drawn.
Silent they stood; then, thro' their lack of speech
Nature once more revealed them each to each.
Close to their very feet a squirrel came,
With feathery tail whisking his ears of flame,
Seized in pink fingers nuts and shreds of cake,
Then in long leaps raced downward to the lake.
Nature once more revealed them each to each.
Close to their very feet a squirrel came,
With feathery tail whisking his ears of flame,
Seized in pink fingers nuts and shreds of cake,
Then in long leaps raced downward to the lake.
33
Ah! who shall say what bond the creature broke?
What in that moment as in thunder spoke?
Each turned and saw the other's soul unveiled,
Each one the other's secret being scaled;
She read his passion, penitent and wroth,
And pitied,—as a star might watch a moth;
He marked her cold conviction, and fell back,
As slips a boulder on a mountain track.
The play was done, and after one short sigh,
He stretched his hand to her with but “Good-bye!”
She took it, and—such mercy Heaven extends—
Held it one moment longer than a friend's;
Then on the wet bright sward they turned and went
Self-sentenced each to mutual banishment.
What in that moment as in thunder spoke?
Each turned and saw the other's soul unveiled,
Each one the other's secret being scaled;
She read his passion, penitent and wroth,
And pitied,—as a star might watch a moth;
He marked her cold conviction, and fell back,
As slips a boulder on a mountain track.
The play was done, and after one short sigh,
He stretched his hand to her with but “Good-bye!”
She took it, and—such mercy Heaven extends—
Held it one moment longer than a friend's;
Then on the wet bright sward they turned and went
Self-sentenced each to mutual banishment.
| In Russet & Silver | |