 | Firdausi in Exile and Other Poems |  |
171
LIBER CORDIS.
“O let me love my love unto myself alone.”
173
PALINGENESIS.
I was fashioned long ago
In an element of snow,
And a white pair of cold wings
Bore me towards sublunar things;
Over thought's immense dominions,
Floating on those chilly pinions,
Long I wandered, faint and thin
As a leaf the wind may spin,
And the tossing flashing sea
Moaned and whispered under me,
And the mountains of man's mind
Threw short shadows far behind,
And the rivers of the soul
That still thunder as they roll,
At my cold height streamed and fled
Silent as a glacier-bed.
In an element of snow,
And a white pair of cold wings
Bore me towards sublunar things;
Over thought's immense dominions,
Floating on those chilly pinions,
Long I wandered, faint and thin
As a leaf the wind may spin,
And the tossing flashing sea
Moaned and whispered under me,
And the mountains of man's mind
Threw short shadows far behind,
And the rivers of the soul
That still thunder as they roll,
At my cold height streamed and fled
Silent as a glacier-bed.
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I was light and gay and bold,
Bathing in the sunset's gold,
Though my forehead's only flush
Came from the aurora's rush,
And my white wrists held on high
Showed no blue veins coursing by.
Through the world a dream I went,
Swathed in a frozen element,
Watching with a temperate breath
All the masque of birth and death,
Pleased to mark around, below,
The currents of emotion flow,
Pleased in my insane conceit
That I had no heart to beat.
Bathing in the sunset's gold,
Though my forehead's only flush
Came from the aurora's rush,
And my white wrists held on high
Showed no blue veins coursing by.
Through the world a dream I went,
Swathed in a frozen element,
Watching with a temperate breath
All the masque of birth and death,
Pleased to mark around, below,
The currents of emotion flow,
Pleased in my insane conceit
That I had no heart to beat.
But, one morning, as I flew
Higher in the vault of blue,
On a storm's eccentric curve
All my flight began to swerve.
Ah! my crystal limbs expire
In this new domain of fire!
Ah! my dædal wings must scorch
In this vast aërial torch,
And my fairy garments made
Of the frost's breath, all will fade!
Higher in the vault of blue,
On a storm's eccentric curve
All my flight began to swerve.
Ah! my crystal limbs expire
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Ah! my dædal wings must scorch
In this vast aërial torch,
And my fairy garments made
Of the frost's breath, all will fade!
Shrieking in a robe of pain,
Darkness fell upon my brain.
When I wakened, far away
In a still green dell I lay,
Shivering, naked; warm within
What was this I heard begin
Throbbing, pulsing, like the sound
Of a hammer underground?
Then I caught a voice, repeating,
“'Tis thy new-born heart that's beating.”
Darkness fell upon my brain.
When I wakened, far away
In a still green dell I lay,
Shivering, naked; warm within
What was this I heard begin
Throbbing, pulsing, like the sound
Of a hammer underground?
Then I caught a voice, repeating,
“'Tis thy new-born heart that's beating.”
Since that day I have not flown
O'er the radiant world alone:
I am all content to follow
Love round this one mountain-hollow;
Weak I am, and flushed with feeling
Tender hopes around me stealing;
Tears between my eyelids creep,
And I waken still to weep:
Often as I walk along
I am agonised with song,
Thoughts of one belovèd form
Lash me like a sudden storm,
And for days I travel wholly
Muffled up in melancholy.
O'er the radiant world alone:
I am all content to follow
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Weak I am, and flushed with feeling
Tender hopes around me stealing;
Tears between my eyelids creep,
And I waken still to weep:
Often as I walk along
I am agonised with song,
Thoughts of one belovèd form
Lash me like a sudden storm,
And for days I travel wholly
Muffled up in melancholy.
Yet for all this weary pain
I would not be calm again,
Yield the warmth and flush and riot
For my earlier crystal quiet,
Or this burning flesh resign
For those wings and robes of mine;
Having tasted Life and Breath
And the bitter Fear of Death,
Who could any more endure
That chill æther rare and pure?
Having known the ache of loving,
And the warm veins' stir and moving,
And the yearning hopes that start,
Who would live without a heart?
I would not be calm again,
Yield the warmth and flush and riot
For my earlier crystal quiet,
Or this burning flesh resign
For those wings and robes of mine;
Having tasted Life and Breath
And the bitter Fear of Death,
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That chill æther rare and pure?
Having known the ache of loving,
And the warm veins' stir and moving,
And the yearning hopes that start,
Who would live without a heart?
178
THE CAST.
If I could read you like a book,
Or like a wizard's glass of old,
I might discover why you look
So cold.
Or like a wizard's glass of old,
I might discover why you look
So cold.
My fate runs ringing through my brain,
I am a fool to love you so;
Will all my rashness be in vain,—
Or no?
I am a fool to love you so;
Will all my rashness be in vain,—
Or no?
Your voice, your presence at my side,
Are more than flesh and blood can bear;
I risk your anger; I decide
To dare.
Are more than flesh and blood can bear;
I risk your anger; I decide
To dare.
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“SPACE TO BREATHE, THOUGH SHORT SOEVER.”
Dear Tyrant, for one moment set me free,I faint, I weary of my constant ache,
Thy presence in thine absence seems to make
A harder bondage of my heart to thee;
Let me forget thee for an hour, and see
Across the east a peaceful sunrise break,
Shot with no flames enkindled for thy sake,
Bearing no pleasant pains from thee to me.
Let me forget, that like the wave of light
That floods the watcher who hath dozed at dawn,
The memory of thy mouth and hands and eyes
May rush upon me with a new delight,
Clothing the dewy trees and sparkling lawn
With all the flush and sweetness of surprise.
180
THE TIDE OF LOVE.
Love, flooding all the creeks of my dry soul,
From which the warm tide ebbed when I was born,
Following the moon of destiny, doth roll
His slow rich wave along the shore forlorn,
To make the ocean—God—and me, one whole.
From which the warm tide ebbed when I was born,
Following the moon of destiny, doth roll
His slow rich wave along the shore forlorn,
To make the ocean—God—and me, one whole.
So, shuddering in its ecstasy, it lies,
And, freed from mire and tangle of the ebb,
Reflects the waxing and the waning skies,
And bears upon its panting breast the web
Of night and her innumerable eyes.
And, freed from mire and tangle of the ebb,
Reflects the waxing and the waning skies,
And bears upon its panting breast the web
Of night and her innumerable eyes.
Nor can conceive at all that it was blind,
But trembling with the sharp approach of love,
That, strenuous, moves without one breath of wind,
Gasps, as the wakening maid, on whom the Dove
With folded wings of deity declined.
But trembling with the sharp approach of love,
That, strenuous, moves without one breath of wind,
Gasps, as the wakening maid, on whom the Dove
With folded wings of deity declined.
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She in the virgin sweetness of her dream
Thought nothing strange to find her vision true;
And I thus bathed in living rapture deem
No moveless drought my channel ever knew,
But rustled always with the murmuring stream.
Thought nothing strange to find her vision true;
And I thus bathed in living rapture deem
No moveless drought my channel ever knew,
But rustled always with the murmuring stream.
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[I stand before you as a beggar stands]
I stand before you as a beggar stands,Who craves an alms and will not be denied;
Nor shall I cease to wander at your side,
Until I gain this largess at your hands;
Give me your weary thoughts, your hours of pain,
Your dull grey mornings, and your hopeless moods;
If one sad moment mars your solitudes,
Give that to me, and be at ease again.
Behold, my heart is large enough to bear
Your burdens, and to rock your heart to sleep;
Give me your griefs, I do not ask to share
The golden harvest of the joys you reap;
Be glad alone; but when your soul's opprest,
Come here and lay your head and be at rest.
183
ILLUSION.
Coy in a covert of the glossy bracken
My love and I sat warm, enchanted, silent,
And watched one tree against the molten azure;
My love and I sat warm, enchanted, silent,
And watched one tree against the molten azure;
Its leaves were fretted gold-work in the sunset,
And on a bough that glistered like vermilion,
A roseate bird of paradise sat preening.
And on a bough that glistered like vermilion,
A roseate bird of paradise sat preening.
Alas! my love arose and went in anger:
The east wind blew, and all the sky grew leaden,
The bloom and gloss from off the bracken faded.
The east wind blew, and all the sky grew leaden,
The bloom and gloss from off the bracken faded.
And, in the hueless larch I still kept watching,
On one brown branch, caught by the storms and broken,
Still sat and preened a common songless fieldfare.
On one brown branch, caught by the storms and broken,
Still sat and preened a common songless fieldfare.
184
THE LAPWING.
How like that pied and restless bird am ICalled Lapwing from her false and feignèd wound!
Lame on one side she painfully doth fly,
Drooping her crest, and circling near the ground;
Such thought she takes but to conceal her brood,
Who crowd unseen within a helpless nest,
Nor can rough idlers, though their steps intrude,
Win that nice secret from her panting breast;
So I in many songs most deftly hide
The tender casket of my heart's rich pain,
Lest one dear name my soul hath deified
Be trodden upon by wandering feet profane;
I sing my songs for Love's true priests alone,
And Love must watch my nest when I am gone.
185
OUR WOOD IN WINTER.
The circle of the wind-swept ground
Was paved with beechen leaves around,
Like Nero's golden house in Rome;
While here and there in solemn lines
The dark pilasters of the pines
Bore up the high wood's sombre dome;
Between their shafts, like tapestry flung,
A soft blue vapour fell and hung.
Was paved with beechen leaves around,
Like Nero's golden house in Rome;
While here and there in solemn lines
The dark pilasters of the pines
Bore up the high wood's sombre dome;
Between their shafts, like tapestry flung,
A soft blue vapour fell and hung.
We paused with wonder-taken breath:
It seemed a spot where frost and death
Themselves were chained at nature's feet;
And in the glow of youth and love,—
The coloured floor, the lights above,—
Our hearts, refreshed, with rapture beat;
The beauty thrilled us through and through
And closer to your side I drew.
It seemed a spot where frost and death
Themselves were chained at nature's feet;
And in the glow of youth and love,—
The coloured floor, the lights above,—
Our hearts, refreshed, with rapture beat;
The beauty thrilled us through and through
And closer to your side I drew.
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Ah, tell me when we both are old,—
On dismal evenings bleak and cold,
When not a spark is in the west,
When love, aweary grown and faint,
Scarce stirs the echo of complaint
Within the sad and labouring breast,—
Ah! tell me then, how once we stood
Transfigured in the gleaming wood.
On dismal evenings bleak and cold,
When not a spark is in the west,
When love, aweary grown and faint,
Scarce stirs the echo of complaint
Within the sad and labouring breast,—
Ah! tell me then, how once we stood
Transfigured in the gleaming wood.
And in a vision I shall turn
To see the fallen beech leaves burn
Reflected in your lifted eyes,
And so for one brief moment gain
The power to cast aside my pain,
And taste once more what time denies;
Nor linger till the dream has fled,
But on your shoulder sink my head.
To see the fallen beech leaves burn
Reflected in your lifted eyes,
And so for one brief moment gain
The power to cast aside my pain,
And taste once more what time denies;
Nor linger till the dream has fled,
But on your shoulder sink my head.
187
RESERVE.
As when there peal along the astonished airJoy-bells of some exuberant town at play,
Laughing and shouting in its holiday,
And blind to apprehension, deaf to care,
One standing in the noisy market-square,
Pausing an instant, pondering—if he may,—
Will hear above the riot loud and gay
The vast cathedral-organ boom for prayer;
So when I hold your beauty in my arms
Above the tumult of the pulse, there rings
A music welling from diviner things;
Your soul reveals to me her nobler charms,
And in the light that dazzles and disarms,
My too vain-glorious spirit droops her wings.
188
ANATHOTH.
I praise the all-watchful sovereignty of Love,
That his imperial melodies have made
My soul a haunt of echoes, Anathoth.
That his imperial melodies have made
My soul a haunt of echoes, Anathoth.
For through the morning, when the briony-stars
From their green lush entanglement were roused,
Like homeward wishes in a wanderer's heart,
While the late blossom from the blushing crab
Fell, in a rosy storm, down the deep lane,
Fretting the truank kine, when every hedge
Was full of snow-white flowers, campion, wild pink,
Starwort, and dittany, and that fair herb,
Cumfrey, that dotes upon the sylvan Thames,
I walked alone, but with a beating heart
As one late touched by the dear hand he loves,
And still right warm with that companionship,
May walk and dream his sweetheart moves beside.
Yet while the assiduous hedges shut me in,
Like too-persistent guests, and while the turf
Was sparkling with those tender blooms of spring,
I had no heart for service; but when soon
All sank and faded to the open moors,
And the garrulous cuckoo with his wearisome voice
Vexed me no more, then the large silence brought
Back the rich echo of the name I love.
And when, amid the stunted furze, I caught
Glimpse of those mountain wings, embossed with red,
The shy bright silent bird we watched so long,
My heart breathed full of ecstasy and peace,
And I could worship; there the rigid lines
Of moorland stretched, harmonious; there the stream
Sprang, the Scamander of a soul besieged,
By Argive witcheries down to bondage drawn.
I trod the battle-field of my desire,
And here she smiled, I said, and here she sat,
And listened to the brooklet more than me,
And here the grasshopper with strident wings
From their green lush entanglement were roused,
Like homeward wishes in a wanderer's heart,
While the late blossom from the blushing crab
Fell, in a rosy storm, down the deep lane,
Fretting the truank kine, when every hedge
Was full of snow-white flowers, campion, wild pink,
Starwort, and dittany, and that fair herb,
Cumfrey, that dotes upon the sylvan Thames,
I walked alone, but with a beating heart
As one late touched by the dear hand he loves,
And still right warm with that companionship,
May walk and dream his sweetheart moves beside.
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Like too-persistent guests, and while the turf
Was sparkling with those tender blooms of spring,
I had no heart for service; but when soon
All sank and faded to the open moors,
And the garrulous cuckoo with his wearisome voice
Vexed me no more, then the large silence brought
Back the rich echo of the name I love.
And when, amid the stunted furze, I caught
Glimpse of those mountain wings, embossed with red,
The shy bright silent bird we watched so long,
My heart breathed full of ecstasy and peace,
And I could worship; there the rigid lines
Of moorland stretched, harmonious; there the stream
Sprang, the Scamander of a soul besieged,
By Argive witcheries down to bondage drawn.
I trod the battle-field of my desire,
And here she smiled, I said, and here she sat,
And listened to the brooklet more than me,
And here the grasshopper with strident wings
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Leaped at her, and her laughter-echoing shriek
Rang down the fluted valleys one by one;
And here, beneath this little birchen clump,
A silver shadow on the enormous moor,
I kissed her rounded throat without reproach;
And here upon the topmost table-land,
Between two dips in the bare crown, we sat,
With wreathèd arms and rosy cheek to cheek,
And scanned the landscape by the unfolded chart,—
I, furtive, mapping rather with fond eyes,
The warm carnations of that delicate neck
Where the curled gold creeps lowest.
Rang down the fluted valleys one by one;
And here, beneath this little birchen clump,
A silver shadow on the enormous moor,
I kissed her rounded throat without reproach;
And here upon the topmost table-land,
Between two dips in the bare crown, we sat,
With wreathèd arms and rosy cheek to cheek,
And scanned the landscape by the unfolded chart,—
I, furtive, mapping rather with fond eyes,
The warm carnations of that delicate neck
Where the curled gold creeps lowest.
And, for these
Pure memories of the perfect heart's desire,
I praise and thank the sovereignty of Love,
Since in a tender heart, native to bliss,
These vague reminders of sweet time gone by,—
Thrills of the pulse, reanimated flush
From the light exquisite touch of a loved hand,
The shadow of the dream of such delight
As springs when eye meets eye in sudden flame,—
The memory of a momentary sense
That this sad chasm of isolation, set
Between all souls for ever, has been bridged,
Once, by the unselfish courage of desire,—
Are more than all the creeds and all the schools
By vague and visionary longing led
Have dared to dream or preach to us of heaven.
Pure memories of the perfect heart's desire,
I praise and thank the sovereignty of Love,
Since in a tender heart, native to bliss,
These vague reminders of sweet time gone by,—
Thrills of the pulse, reanimated flush
From the light exquisite touch of a loved hand,
191
As springs when eye meets eye in sudden flame,—
The memory of a momentary sense
That this sad chasm of isolation, set
Between all souls for ever, has been bridged,
Once, by the unselfish courage of desire,—
Are more than all the creeds and all the schools
By vague and visionary longing led
Have dared to dream or preach to us of heaven.
Ay! more than Heaven indeed; and what of Earth—
Earth which is cold to Love, and blind to Heaven?
This,—that such memories are the mountain-airs
Which stir earth's acrid vapours, that their dream
Brings light at sunrise and at sunset peace,
That time without them would be mad and void,
And ache itself away, and, last of all,
That he who bears no echoes in his soul
From such melodious solitudes as these,
Dying, dies ghastlier than the dog he fed.
Earth which is cold to Love, and blind to Heaven?
This,—that such memories are the mountain-airs
Which stir earth's acrid vapours, that their dream
Brings light at sunrise and at sunset peace,
That time without them would be mad and void,
And ache itself away, and, last of all,
That he who bears no echoes in his soul
From such melodious solitudes as these,
Dying, dies ghastlier than the dog he fed.
192
[We two have strayed far from the noise of earth]
We two have strayed far from the noise of earth,By heath and peak, by foam-distracted beach,
By little ancient towns of foreign speech,
By woodlands where the swinging birds made mirth,
By dusky towns, eyes in the moorland-girth
Of hills, and in the solitude of each
Your lovelier soul has bent itself to teach
My soul the lore that follows the New Birth.
I think some fragment of our life must make
A green oasis in those mountain-snows,
A sanguine flush across the wild white rose,
A bar of opal where the streamlets break,
Or in some valley there may bloom, who knows,
One little flower created for our sake?
193
SAND.
If thou wert here I should not wander thus,Scribbling in aimless mood on the wild sand
The letters of thy name, to teach the land
From Joyous Gard to Castle Perilous
What love is ours, nor, lest men mock at us,
Return in haste, to find the breeze has fanned
The shore, and stirred the surface, like a hand,
With smoothing fingers, light and tremulous.
Alas! by force of loving I become
Weak as an eddy in the sandy wind,
Faint as yon phantom-ruin scarce defined
Against the pale mysterious fields of foam;
Again along the misty strand I roam,
Dull, chilly, silent, patient and resigned.
194
TWO POINTS OF VIEW.
If I forget,—
May joy pledge this weak heart to sorrow!
If I forget,—
May my soul's coloured summer borrow
The hueless tones of storm and rain,
Of ruth and terror, shame and pain,—
If I forget!
May joy pledge this weak heart to sorrow!
If I forget,—
May my soul's coloured summer borrow
The hueless tones of storm and rain,
Of ruth and terror, shame and pain,—
If I forget!
Though you forget,—
There is no binding code for beauty;
Though you forget,—
Love was your charm, but not your duty;
And life's worst breeze must never bring
A ruffle to your silken wing,
Though you forget.
There is no binding code for beauty;
Though you forget,—
Love was your charm, but not your duty;
And life's worst breeze must never bring
A ruffle to your silken wing,
Though you forget.
195
If I forget,—
The salt creek may forget the ocean;
If I forget
The heart whence flows my heart's bright motion,
May I sink meanlier than the worst,
Abandoned, outcast, crushed, accurst,—
If I forget!
The salt creek may forget the ocean;
If I forget
The heart whence flows my heart's bright motion,
May I sink meanlier than the worst,
Abandoned, outcast, crushed, accurst,—
If I forget!
Though you forget,—
No word of mine shall mar your pleasure;
Though you forget,—
You filled my barren life with treasure,
You may withdraw the gift you gave,
You still are lord, I still am slave,—
Though you forget.
No word of mine shall mar your pleasure;
Though you forget,—
You filled my barren life with treasure,
You may withdraw the gift you gave,
You still are lord, I still am slave,—
Though you forget.
196
CUPIDO CRUCIFIXUS.
One Love there is all roseate-flushed and fair—This is the love that plucks the fruit of life;
One Love there is with cypress round his hair,
The love that fought and fell in bitter strife:
Not that nor this the Shade that comes to-day
With tender hands to soothe my beating heart,—
But the third Love that gains and gives away,
And in renouncing holds the better part;
His eyes are very sweet, and bright with tears,
Like thine own eyes, my Dearest, wet with love;
He knows that I am weak, and torn with fears,
Trembling to say too much or not enough,
He knows that on the verge of hope I stand,
With Death and perilous Life on either hand.
197
RENUNCIATION.
Love feeds upon the fiery trial,
And hugs the arm that smites;
I bless you for your stern denial,
And for my lonely nights.
And hugs the arm that smites;
I bless you for your stern denial,
And for my lonely nights.
If you had heaped my flame with fuel,
And been, as I was, blind,
Time might have proved your favour cruel,
Your tenderness unkind.
And been, as I was, blind,
Time might have proved your favour cruel,
Your tenderness unkind.
The longing flesh outwears the spirit,
The body tires the soul;
By giving, we but half inherit,
By holding back, the whole.
The body tires the soul;
By giving, we but half inherit,
By holding back, the whole.
The world may keep its brutal fashion,
And crush the rose to death;
Our ecstasy of virgin passion
Will scent our latest breath.
And crush the rose to death;
Our ecstasy of virgin passion
Will scent our latest breath.
198
I lose you, but I gain, in losing,
Your very life and heart;
Of all that makes time sweet, in choosing,
We chose the better part.
Your very life and heart;
Of all that makes time sweet, in choosing,
We chose the better part.
I lose you, but I gain for ever
More than mere lovers hold;
I gain your ocean for their river,
And for their dross, your gold.
More than mere lovers hold;
I gain your ocean for their river,
And for their dross, your gold.
Then love me, my Desire, my Wonder,
Through change of world and weather!
Our hearts may louder beat asunder
Than when they throbbed together.
Through change of world and weather!
Our hearts may louder beat asunder
Than when they throbbed together.
199
APOLOGIA.
I have not sinned against the God of love,
And so I think that when I come to die,
His face will reach to me, and hang above,
And comfort me, and hush me where I lie.
And so I think that when I come to die,
His face will reach to me, and hang above,
And comfort me, and hush me where I lie.
Weak am I, full of faults, and on the brink
Of Death perchance with awe my pulse shall move;
I am not fit to die, and yet I think
I have not sinned against the god of Love.
Of Death perchance with awe my pulse shall move;
I am not fit to die, and yet I think
I have not sinned against the god of Love.
I have desired fame, riches, the clear crown
Of influence, and pleasure's long-drawn zest,
Yet at all times I would have laid these down
To please the human heart that I love best;
Of influence, and pleasure's long-drawn zest,
Yet at all times I would have laid these down
To please the human heart that I love best;
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Wherefore I hope when I must go my way
Down that dark doubtful road that mortals prove,
Some one will cheer my shivering soul, and say
He has not sinned against the god of Love.
Down that dark doubtful road that mortals prove,
Some one will cheer my shivering soul, and say
He has not sinned against the god of Love.
| Firdausi in Exile and Other Poems | |