 | Ode for the centenary of the death of Burns |  |
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ODE FOR THE CENTENARY OF THE DEATH OF BURNS
July 21, 1796–1896
No curious craftsman, whom we praise
For jewelled line, for carven phrase—
For costly verse that yet betrays
To no man's view
The secret of the easeless days
From which it grew;
For jewelled line, for carven phrase—
For costly verse that yet betrays
To no man's view
The secret of the easeless days
From which it grew;
No searcher of our source and goal,
No reader of God's secret scroll;
No Shakespeare, flashing o'er the whole
Of Man's domain
The splendour of his cloudless soul
And perfect brain;
No reader of God's secret scroll;
No Shakespeare, flashing o'er the whole
Of Man's domain
The splendour of his cloudless soul
And perfect brain;
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No Keats, to Grecian gods allied,
Clasping all Beauty as his bride;
No Shelley, soaring dim-descried
Above Time's throng,
And heavenward hurling wild and wide
His spear of song;
Clasping all Beauty as his bride;
No Shelley, soaring dim-descried
Above Time's throng,
And heavenward hurling wild and wide
His spear of song;
No Wordsworth, from the eddying crowd
Half hid in light, half veiled in cloud;
No sphere-born Milton cold and proud,
In hallowing dews
Dipt, and with gorgeous ritual vowed
Unto the Muse;
Half hid in light, half veiled in cloud;
No sphere-born Milton cold and proud,
In hallowing dews
Dipt, and with gorgeous ritual vowed
Unto the Muse;
No native of the sky, nor skilled
On heights unknown to sing and build,
But wholly of that Earth he tilled
Was he whose tears,
Whose laughter, in that Earth lie stilled
These hundred years.
On heights unknown to sing and build,
But wholly of that Earth he tilled
Was he whose tears,
Whose laughter, in that Earth lie stilled
These hundred years.
5
He came when poets had forgot
How rich and strange the human lot;
How warm the tints of Life; how hot
Are Love and Hate;
And what makes Truth divine, and what
Makes Manhood great.
How rich and strange the human lot;
How warm the tints of Life; how hot
Are Love and Hate;
And what makes Truth divine, and what
Makes Manhood great.
A ghostly troop, in pale amaze
They melted 'neath that living gaze,—
His in whose spirit's gusty blaze
We seem to hear
The crackling of their phantom bays
Sapless and sere!
They melted 'neath that living gaze,—
His in whose spirit's gusty blaze
We seem to hear
The crackling of their phantom bays
Sapless and sere!
For, 'mid an age of dust and dearth,
Once more had bloomed immortal worth.
There, in the strong, splenetic North,
The Spring began.
A mighty mother had brought forth
A mighty man.
Once more had bloomed immortal worth.
There, in the strong, splenetic North,
The Spring began.
A mighty mother had brought forth
A mighty man.
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No mystic torch through Time he bore
No virgin veil from Life he tore;
His soul no bright insignia wore
Of starry birth;
He saw what all men see—no more—
In heaven and earth:
No virgin veil from Life he tore;
His soul no bright insignia wore
Of starry birth;
He saw what all men see—no more—
In heaven and earth:
But as, when thunder crashes nigh,
All darkness opes one flaming eye,
And the world leaps against the sky,—
So fiery-clear
Did the old truths that we pass by
To him appear.
All darkness opes one flaming eye,
And the world leaps against the sky,—
So fiery-clear
Did the old truths that we pass by
To him appear.
How could he 'scape the doom of such
As feel the airiest phantom-touch
Keenlier than others feel the clutch
Of iron powers,—
Who die of having lived so much,
In their large hours?
As feel the airiest phantom-touch
Keenlier than others feel the clutch
Of iron powers,—
Who die of having lived so much,
In their large hours?
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He erred, he sinned: and if there be
Who, from his hapless frailties free,
Rich in the poorer virtues, see
His faults alone,—
To such, O Lord of Charity,
Be mercy shown!
Who, from his hapless frailties free,
Rich in the poorer virtues, see
His faults alone,—
To such, O Lord of Charity,
Be mercy shown!
Singly he faced the bigot brood,
The meanly wise, the feebly good;
He pelted them with pearl, with mud;
He fought them well,—
But ah, the stupid million stood,
And he—he fell!
The meanly wise, the feebly good;
He pelted them with pearl, with mud;
He fought them well,—
But ah, the stupid million stood,
And he—he fell!
All bright and glorious at the start,
'Twas his ignobly to depart,
Slain by his own too affluent heart,
Too generous blood;
And blindly, having lost Life's chart,
To meet Death's flood.
'Twas his ignobly to depart,
Slain by his own too affluent heart,
Too generous blood;
And blindly, having lost Life's chart,
To meet Death's flood.
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So passes, all confusedly
As lights that hurry, shapes that flee
About some brink we dimly see,
The trivial, great,
Squalid, majestic tragedy
Of human fate.
As lights that hurry, shapes that flee
About some brink we dimly see,
The trivial, great,
Squalid, majestic tragedy
Of human fate.
Not ours to gauge the more or less,
The will's defect, the blood's excess,
The earthy humours that oppress
The radiant mind.
His greatness, not his littleness,
Concerns mankind.
The will's defect, the blood's excess,
The earthy humours that oppress
The radiant mind.
His greatness, not his littleness,
Concerns mankind.
A dreamer of the common dreams,
A fisher in familiar streams,
He chased the transitory gleams
That all pursue;
But on his lips the eternal themes
Again were new.
A fisher in familiar streams,
He chased the transitory gleams
That all pursue;
But on his lips the eternal themes
Again were new.
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With shattering ire or withering mirth
He smote each worthless claim to worth.
The barren fig-tree cumbering Earth
He would not spare.
Through ancient lies of proudest birth
He drove his share.
He smote each worthless claim to worth.
The barren fig-tree cumbering Earth
He would not spare.
Through ancient lies of proudest birth
He drove his share.
To him the Powers that formed him brave,
Yet weak to breast the fatal wave,
A mighty gift of Hatred gave—
A gift above
All other gifts benefic, save
The gift of Love.
Yet weak to breast the fatal wave,
A mighty gift of Hatred gave—
A gift above
All other gifts benefic, save
The gift of Love.
He saw 'tis meet that Man possess
The will to curse as well as bless,
To pity—and be pitiless,
To make, and mar;
The fierceness that from tenderness
Is never far.
The will to curse as well as bless,
To pity—and be pitiless,
To make, and mar;
The fierceness that from tenderness
Is never far.
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And so his fierce and tender strain
Lives, and his idlest words remain
To flout oblivion, that in vain
Strives to destroy
One lightest record of his pain
Or of his joy.
Lives, and his idlest words remain
To flout oblivion, that in vain
Strives to destroy
One lightest record of his pain
Or of his joy.
And though thrice statelier names decay,
His own can wither not away
While plighted lass and lad shall stray
Among the broom,
Where evening touches glen and brae
With rosy gloom;
His own can wither not away
While plighted lass and lad shall stray
Among the broom,
Where evening touches glen and brae
With rosy gloom;
While Hope and Love with Youth abide;
While Age sits at the ingleside;
While yet there have not wholly died
The heroic fires,
The patriot passion, and the pride
In noble sires;
While Age sits at the ingleside;
While yet there have not wholly died
The heroic fires,
The patriot passion, and the pride
In noble sires;
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While, with the conquering Saxon breed
Whose fair estate of speech and deed
Heritors north and south of Tweed
Alike may claim,
The dimly mingled Celtic seed
Flowers like a flame;
Whose fair estate of speech and deed
Heritors north and south of Tweed
Alike may claim,
The dimly mingled Celtic seed
Flowers like a flame;
While nations see in holy trance
That vision of the world's advance
Which glorified his countenance,
When from afar
He hailed the Hope that shot o'er France
Its crimson star;
That vision of the world's advance
Which glorified his countenance,
When from afar
He hailed the Hope that shot o'er France
Its crimson star;
While, plumed for flight, the Soul deplores
The cage that foils the wing that soars;
And while, through adamantine doors
In dreams flung wide,
We hear resound, on mortal shores,
The immortal tide.
The cage that foils the wing that soars;
And while, through adamantine doors
In dreams flung wide,
We hear resound, on mortal shores,
The immortal tide.
Folkestone, June 1895.
| Ode for the centenary of the death of Burns | |