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125
THE RUINED CITY
So that great city underwent the curse
Of silence, till its very life was death:
Until all outer act was but the hearse
Of its inborne monotony of breath.
Of silence, till its very life was death:
Until all outer act was but the hearse
Of its inborne monotony of breath.
The doer went abroad to daily toil;
Did, and came duly back against the night;
Wearily won and sadly wore the spoil,—
A woe-worn victim even for all the plight
Did, and came duly back against the night;
Wearily won and sadly wore the spoil,—
A woe-worn victim even for all the plight
Of wreathéd victory (that fearful doom
Had struck out love and joy and worthy pride
And energy): he was as one to whom
Is given a soul's work, yet the soul denied.
Had struck out love and joy and worthy pride
And energy): he was as one to whom
Is given a soul's work, yet the soul denied.
126
He did, because it seemed right to do;
He lived, because he had no wish to die;
His life was death; there was no change, he knew,—
For death seems only life borne silently.
He lived, because he had no wish to die;
His life was death; there was no change, he knew,—
For death seems only life borne silently.
And all the city underwent that spell
Of burying hope beneath their sealed lips:
As if the sun was gone, and none might tell
Even his own heart the end of the eclipse.
Of burying hope beneath their sealed lips:
As if the sun was gone, and none might tell
Even his own heart the end of the eclipse.
A people without hope. Stern Faith awhile
Held on. But Faith has sometimes need of Hope.
So Faith's closed lips at last fix'd in a smile
Of sullen scorn: a smile that might not ope
Held on. But Faith has sometimes need of Hope.
So Faith's closed lips at last fix'd in a smile
Of sullen scorn: a smile that might not ope
The low dark room of the sepulchral heart,—
Wherein one tenant was, the trailing thought
Of many-coiled sorrow, whose fell smart
Was painless now, and only torpor wrought.
Wherein one tenant was, the trailing thought
Of many-coiled sorrow, whose fell smart
Was painless now, and only torpor wrought.
Till even the merest form of life became
Too burdensome for stoutest will to bear:
One might as well suppose a motionless flame
As life fed only on a still despair.
Too burdensome for stoutest will to bear:
One might as well suppose a motionless flame
As life fed only on a still despair.
127
The living hopes had made the city great,
The hero strengths had built its palace pride,
Lay down in the grassy streets, dull-eyed, to wait
The slow repeats of morn and eventide.
The hero strengths had built its palace pride,
Lay down in the grassy streets, dull-eyed, to wait
The slow repeats of morn and eventide.
The palace towers crumbled unrepair'd;
The city gates were shut, and none went forth;
Weeds choked the glorious ways, and no man cared;
None spoke: since Hope forsook the City of Worth.
The city gates were shut, and none went forth;
Weeds choked the glorious ways, and no man cared;
None spoke: since Hope forsook the City of Worth.
There in the ruin'd temple once had stood
Her statue beside Faith. Hers fell that day
She pass'd out thence. And now in the solitude
Beneath the feet of Faith her image lay,
Her statue beside Faith. Hers fell that day
She pass'd out thence. And now in the solitude
Beneath the feet of Faith her image lay,
Shatter'd to pieces. Wherefore this still fate,
This silence, this accurséd penalty.
The Gods desert us. We not even wait
The useless Death: for, living thus, we die.
This silence, this accurséd penalty.
The Gods desert us. We not even wait
The useless Death: for, living thus, we die.
Faith's statue yet remain'd: a piteous sight:
Clothed by great spiders, hooded thick with dust,
Worshipp'd by unscared vermin day and night,
The marble flaw'd, the gold devour'd by rust.
Clothed by great spiders, hooded thick with dust,
Worshipp'd by unscared vermin day and night,
The marble flaw'd, the gold devour'd by rust.
128
So the long years crawl'd on. What lived or died
In the great city matter'd unto none.
Oblivion! be merciful, and hide
The wasting misery of the overthrown.
In the great city matter'd unto none.
Oblivion! be merciful, and hide
The wasting misery of the overthrown.
One word alone had been the mighty leaven
Out of this sealed tomb to raise the dead,
To lift despair from hell to highest heaven:
One only word—that never may be said.
Out of this sealed tomb to raise the dead,
To lift despair from hell to highest heaven:
One only word—that never may be said.
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