University of Virginia Library

Out on the waters, lost in light,
His ship fades softly out of sight,
While on a beach of golden sands,
Shading his eyes with archèd hands
And gazing up to heights of palm,
Alone the dark-eyed Outcast stands
And breathes warm airs of spice and balm:
Behind him amethystine seas,
Just touch'd with shadows of the breeze,
Foam on the red-lip'd reefs that rise
Beyond the shallows rainbow-hued—
Before him, under burning skies,
Rise slopes of pine and sandalwood,
High as the topmost summit where
A lonely palm-tree stirs its fan
Sharp-shadow'd 'gainst the golden glare
Of cloudless voids cerulean.
And downward from the wooded height
A torrent hangs its scarf of white,
A sparkling necklace that unfurls
Strung with for-ever-changing pearls,
Turning the sunlight in its fold
To rainbow beams and glints of gold.
And down beneath lie rounded huts
Tree-shaded, dusky, brown as nuts,
With lithe black figures moving slow
From sun to shadow to and fro:
And from the stillness all around
Comes now and then a distant sound
Of voices faint and far, that seem
As strange as voices heard in dream!

In the warm hush of summer weather,
The tremulous hearts of Sky and Sea,
Like hearts of lovers prest together,
Lie still, just throbbing peacefully—
And where they mix with sleepy sighs,
Soft stirs of bliss and rapturous smile,
Upon the Sea's blue bosom lies
This jewel of a coral Isle—
A dark green spot with gentle gleams
Of golden sands and silver streams,
With dusky depths of scented glade,
And cool wells bubbling in the shade;
And over all sleeps soft as balm
A glowing Paradisal calm.

Slowly, with shadow blotted black
On the white sands, the Outcast moves,
Leaves the blue waters at his back
And gains the quiet coca-groves.
His stormy heart scarce seems to beat,
His troubled blood scarce seems to flow—
‘If this were Death, then Death were sweet!’
He murmurs in the golden glow.
Tall, dark, and strange, a stately form,
He walks thro' woods of emerald green,
When suddenly the branches swarm
With dusky faces mild of mien!
He pauses, starts, and looks around,—
The faces vanish with no sound,
But 'mong the boughs he seems to hear
A sound like laughter merry and clear.
And presently, beside a pool
Blue as a patch of fallen sky,
He stands, and in the mirror cool
Sees shades of swift bright birds float by.
Upon the marge he sits, below
Acacia-branches white as snow,
And marks his own face worn with care
Uplooking from the waters there.
Suddenly, as he sits and broods,
Come laughter and soft chattering cries,
And mother-naked from the woods
Steal dusky shapes with wondering eyes!
The tropic boughs, the flowery brakes,
Grow live with limbs that move like snakes,
Great open eyes 'mid opening flowers
Gleam out amid these shadowy bowers,
The foliage trembling and astir
Is full of creatures warm and bright,
Who on the sad-eyed Mariner
Gaze in mild wonder and delight!

He raised his melancholy eyes—
And back they shrank with bird-like cries—
But when he droop'd his head again
And thro' the woods went wandering,
With speech as soft as summer rain,
Voices that seem'd to sigh or sing,
They murmur'd to him in a tongue
Most sweet yet scarce articulate,
Such as was heard when Love was young
And Adam coo'd to woo his mate!
All vows, all vowels, language such
As bees might use if they could tell
Their tremulous thrills of taste and touch
Deep in some honeysuckle's cell;
Murmur of insects and of birds,
Just turning joy to honeyed words,—
Half human speech, half speechless cadence,
Voluptuous as the time and place,
And rapturous as some rosy maiden's
Sigh, when she yields to Love's embrace.

The simile in that last line
Is Vanderdecken's (and not mine)
Ta'en from the Notebook written in
His own red blood on parchment skin.
Henceforward, that the reader may
Avoid confounding his reflections
With mine, I'll use throughout my lay
His own remarks and interjections.
So understand, whene'er I quote
Passages some consider shocking,
Inverted commas will denote
'Tis only Vanderdecken mocking!

‘I turn'd—they vanish'd, with a sound
Like music of some scented shower
That ceases on warm grassy ground,
While all the green boughs rustle round
And bright drops cling on leaf and flower.
But as I wander'd from the shade
The happy creatures follow'd after,
Clear voices ran in the green glade
Answer'd with rippling peals of laughter!
And when into the sun I strode
They ring'd me round with throngs at gaze,
As if they looked upon a god
In mingled worship and amaze!
‘Then one, with laughter low yet clear,
Ran from the rest to interview me,
But paused at arm's length full of fear
And turn'd a wistful face unto me—
Beauteous, a woman yet a child,
Her gentle eyes upon me bent
With humid orbs both sweet and mild,
She stretch'd a little hand, then smiled
In welcome and in wonderment!
And lo, as if a fountain's dew
Was scatter'd on my brows and hair,
Refresh'd and gladdening ere I knew,
I felt the smile, and, smiling too,
Shook off the cloud of my despair!

‘Venus! Natura procreans!
Te, Dea, adventumque tuum,
All living things obey, and Man's
Proud spirit vainly plots and plans
Thy spells to scatter, and break through 'em!
A look—a smile—a touch—suffices
To witch our nature and to win it—
Stone turns to merry flesh, and ice is
Wine warm and rosy in a minute!
So was it then, so is it ever,
'Spite all Morality's endeavour!
So shall it be, though parsons patter,
As long as Man is two-thirds Matter!
Won by the face and form of her
Who welcomed me for all the rest,
I felt my stony heart astir
And throbbing gently in my breast.
I took her little hand,—and gazed
Into her eyes with kindly greeting;
Hers did not drop, but, softly raised,
Sparkled with pleasure at the meeting!
And full of joy, no longer flying
The strange sad form from distant lands,
Her dusky kinsfolk, laughing, crying,
Flock'd round about with outstretch'd hands;
Women and men and children small,
Dusky and gentle, old and young,
Welcomed the stranger,—one and all
Uttering the same soft bird-like call,
And prattling in that golden tongue;
And what I fail'd to understand
The kindly folk made bright and clear
By smile of face and touch of hand,
Which said, “O Stranger, welcomehere!”
For they had never seen before
A white man on that sunny shore,
And to their gaze I seem'd to be
Clothed round with grace of Deity!
A little bored, a little scorning,
I gazed with calm superior air
On these wild Children of the Morning
Happy with scarce a rag to wear;
And some were comely, all were bright
With life and innocent delight,
And never one among the throng
Suspected cruelty or wrong:
Happy as beasts or birds, unstricken
With modern psychical disease,
Free of complaints whereof souls sicken,
They felt the sun within them quicken
And lived the life of swarming bees:
Their very speech, as I have said,
Scarce consonanted, clear and sweet
As warm winds whispering overhead,
As runlets rippling at their feet,—
Beauteously fitted to express
Anacreontic happiness,
One cooing and delicious tone,
Like that to Grecian lovers known,
Ομφην λιγειαν προχεων.

‘And so, as on a flowery stream
One floateth in a summer dream,
Upon this flow of lives, swept round
By merry maids and children gay,
'Mid soft delights of scent and sound,
I floated and was borne away—
From shade to sun, from sun to shade,
Laughing they led me thro' the land,
And still that dimpled dainty Maid
Nestled quite close, and unafraid
Smiled in my face and kiss'd my hand.
And laughing too, while on me fell
The golden glamour and the spell,
I wander'd on at their sweet will!—
O had I power to paint the scene,
Not scribbling with this blood-stain'd quill,
But with a brush of sweep serene!—
I, the sad Man with dark locks shed
Round features worn and marble pale,
My lithe form strangely garmented
In raiment wrought to brave the gale;
Rings on my waxen hands; around
My throat a bright scarf lightly wound;
On broad brows beaten by the sea
A sailor's hat worn jauntily!
The centre of the picture, this;
Around, dark Darlings of the Isle,
Warm bosoms panting full of bliss,
Waists to embrace and lips to kiss,
And best, that Maiden's sunny smile!
Thus was I tangled in the mesh
Of those bright moving living bowers!
The sun shone free, the wind blew fresh,
And Eden smiled, all fruit, all flowers!
Far off, beyond the emerald land
Sloping to shores of yellow sand,
Beyond the stately coca-trees
Stirring their fans in the soft breeze,
Past the red coral reef whereon
The turquoise Sea broke milky white,
Far as my dazzled eyes could con
Ocean and Heaven mingling shone,—
Veil beyond veil of golden light!

‘And now we come to swarms of huts
Dusky and brown as coca-nuts,
Beneath a crag that skyward towers
Festoon'd from crown to base with flowers:
Some high, like great brown birds'-nests, clinging
High up and with the tree-boughs swinging,
Some fallen like husks of fruit and lying
Wide open on the grassy sward;
And hither and thither, multiplying
Like happy bees in sunlight flying,
Fresh flocks of happy creatures pour'd,
Until the place was all alive
With forms that swarm'd from hive to hive,
Buzzing and murmuring every one
In that soft lingo of the Sun!

‘Close to the flowery crag there clung
A brown thatch'd roof with wild flowers hung,
Supported on four sapling trees
That pour'd sweet scents on the warm breeze,
And underneath it, loosely wall'd
With boughs as green as emerald,
There lay a wide and open bower,
A mossy nest of fruit and flower,
With soft green hammocks swinging high
To the wind's summer lullaby.
Grass was the floor, but o'er it spread,
Crumbling warm spice beneath the tread,
Were woven carpets green and soft
As the fresh blooms that swung aloft.
Thither my captor, that sweet Maid
Who held me in her sweet control,
Led me, and, seated in the shade,
My throne an old tree's mossy bole,
I watch'd the throng who round me went
In welcome and in merriment.

‘Possession's nine points of the law,
Even yonder in the southern seas:
And murmuring softly “Alohà!”
(Which means “I love you,” if you please!)
That Maid who was the first to capture
My idle eyes with her strange beauty
Gazed on my face in tender rapture
And kiss'd my hand in sign of duty.
Then, when some others, gladsome girls
With sunny cheeks and teeth like pearls,
Came thronging all around to view
My face and give me welcome too,
She waved them back with flashing eyes
And seem'd to say (if looks could do it)
“This man is mine! I claim the prize,
And if you touch him, you shall rue it!”
Smiling and laughing merrily,
I just look'd on, content to be
Appropriated for the present
By one so young and plump and pleasant;
And nodding, by my side I placed her,
Patted her brown back and embraced her,—
Whereon the happy native bands,
Incapable of jealous spite,
Laugh'd their approval, clapt their hands,
And shared the little Maid's delight.

‘Then, at a signal from the Maid,
They brought me poi, a native dish
Of island grains and juices made,
And stickier than one might wish—
Her two forefingers lightly dipping
Therein, she twirled them round about,
Then drew a glutinous, slimy, dripping
Mouthful, like macaroni, out;
Next, quickly raised her finger-tips
Thus coated to her rosy lips,
Sucking them like a bonbon. while
I watch'd her with a wondering smile.
Ev'n thus she show'd me full of joy
The native mysteries of poi—
And presently, I made essay
To eat it in the native way,
And found the flavour of the stuff
(Altho' the modus operandi
Was strange and primitive enough)
Was much like rice and sugar-candy.
And next they brought in goblets green
Of coca-shell a pleasant tipple
As clear as mead or Hippocrene
Or milk that flows from Venus' nipple;
And quaffing this right joyously
I felt my heart within throb quicker,
For, like most sailors of the sea,
I on occasion love good liquor!
And thus they fêted me and fed me,
And when at last I paused contented,
To a green couch the Maiden led me,
And down I sank on leaves sweet-scented;—
When nimble virgins, at her sign,
Kneaded me, limbs and loins and thighs,
Till rack'd and rent I sank supine
With aching frame and sleepy eyes,—
And sank to charmèd sleep! (They name
This swift shampooing of the frame
The lomi-lomi.) When at last
I woke, all sense seem'd sublimated,
Bathed in a comfort deep and vast
I lay like Adam new-created—
Ambrosial peace and perfect rest
Stole through my veins and warm'd me through,
Serenely strong, completely blest,
I gladden'd at each breath I drew;
And all the world and its annoy
Turn'd to an odorous rose of joy,
Taking both soul and sense in capture
With soft celestial folds of rapture!

‘Meantime her kinsfolk, blithe and gay
As motes that in the sunbeam play,
Simple as babies biting coral,
Without one instinct known as moral,
Eager to welcome and caress
Whatever stranger they beheld,
Full of the sunny happiness
That from their dusky hearts up-well'd,
Came smiling round the flowery nest
Wherein I lay in blissful rest.
Then one, an Elder of the place,
A glad old boy with wrinkled face,
Laugh'd and clapt hands, and at the sign
All squatted down or lay supine,
And from the shade of these dark bowers
Outpour'd, with wondrous twists and twirls,
Most lightly raimented in flowers
A band of lissome Dancing Girls—
These [while the rest began to croon
A drowsy droning native tune],
With gestures loose and looser raiment,
With postures never for broad day meant,
With panting mouths and shining eyes,
With heaving breasts and quivering thighs,
Began a measure which to see
Would shock our modern modesty!
A measure?—nay, a dance that knew
No measure Thought could time it to—
A leaping, eddying, unabating
Revel of flesh and blood pulsating—
Now soft and sweet as fountains falling,
Now mad and wild as billows bounding,
Now murmurous as wood-doves calling,
Now corybantic and appalling,
And changeful as it was astounding!’

Reflections on the margin, made
In Rome, at a quite recent time,
Follow, and tho' I'm half afraid
To quote them, here they are, in rhyme:

. . . ‘Aye me, what witchery may be wrought
By soft round arms and looks of passion!
What magic flooding sense and thought
By limbs in beauteous undulation!
Love rules the world, and Love shall rule it,
Tho' rogues corrupt and sages fool it!
Love moves the chessmen, Kings and Knights,
And stirs the merest pawns as well,
Hence change of empires, bloodiest fights,
And all the game of Heaven and Hell.
Herodias dances, and demands
The Baptist's head as instant payment!
Phryne just stirs her little hands,
Lifting the edge of her light raiment,
Glimpse of trim ankles to discover,
And lo! a Dynasty is over!
Were I the Devil, I'd rather deal
With incantation such as this is,
Than have great senates at my heel!
Show me whole legions clad in steel—
I'll rout them easily—with kisses!
Kings for such guerdon will pay down
Gladly the sceptre and the crown!
Bishops their mitres and their crosiers
For soft limbs beautified by hosiers!
God gets no hearing anywhere
While Womankind is fond and fair,
And so the world is at the mercy
Of the supreme enchantress, Circe!
‘Hartmann, whose page explains to us
The creed of the Unconscious,
By the Unconscious means the Power
Which fills Life's Tree from root to flower.
Pulsating out of yonder sunlight,
Flowing in flame from form to form,
Is the eternal Light, the one Light
For ever wanton, wild, and warm,—
Shedding magnetic rays of splendour,
In ecstasies of new creation,
Forcing all creatures to surrender
To Love's amphibious invitation!
Amœbæ in the ooze, and fishes,
Beasts in the fields, birds in the air,
Sweep whither the Unconscious wishes,
And recreate forms foul or fair—
All sing Natura Cumulans,—
Nature, the Matronhood immortal—
In vain le bon Dieu sits and plans
Yonder beyond the heavenly portal,
Crying like Canute, to the Ocean
Of loose primordial mad emotion,
“Thus far, no further”—while its waves,
Beating the shore of human graves,
Surging and rising, ever growing,
Submerging earth from zone to zone,
Drown Man's frail Soul, and overflowing
Flood the bright Footstool of the Throne!’

Wide-eyed in wonder and delight
The Wanderer drank in the sight—
A Bacchic rite in emulation
Of the first orgies of Creation!
And when the dancers sank o'erpower'd
With their own rapture, blossoms shower'd
Upon them, and with flashing faces
They clung in beautiful embraces.
Then when the cup of joy was full
Up to the brim and running over,
Out of the darkness green and cool
A girl coo'd clearly to her lover!—
One bird-like note, one plaintive call,
Passionate yet celestial,
Thrill'd through the silence! then there came
Out of the darkness, robed in white,
With arms outstretch'd and eyes aflame,
Alive with Love and Love's delight,
That Flower of Maidens,—fair she stood
Full in the sunset's crimson flood,
And gazing on the heavens above
Warbled her wondrous song of Love!
And fascinated, thrilling through
With bliss at every breath he drew,
The Outcast listen'd, while the throng
Were hushed to hear that Orphic song!
But as he leapt to her embrace
She laugh'd and vanish'd from his glance,
And once again the leafy place
Was loud with life and song and dance—
Again, while loud the music rung,
The choir of dancing girls upsprung,
And mingling in the measure wrought
Their fine gyrations passion-fraught!
But now the dance was less capricious,
The undulations more subdued,—
Subsiding into throbs delicious,
Faint rapture stealing through their blood,
The maidens moved like one bright billow
Now heavenward, now upon the ground,
All swaying on an airy pillow
And swooning with soft zones unbound,
And spicy odours, burning beams,
Blew round them as they rock'd in dreams,
While on their happy cheeks and eyes
Rain'd diamond dews from Paradise!

A pause—a thrill—which seem'd to be.
A long sweet dream of ecstasy—
Then suddenly, before he knew,
All vanish'd from his wondering view—
Of all the throng not one was there,
Men, women, maidens, turn'd to air,
And lonely on his couch he lay
Lit by the sunset's fading ray—
But as he sigh'd and lookt around,
He heard again that bird-like cadence
And turning saw, with lilies crown'd,
That tender miracle of maidens—
Her eyes on his—one soft hand prest
To still the billowing of her breast—
Her cheeks all smiles, her eyes all bliss,
Sending new thrills of rapture through him,
Her mouth bent down for him to kiss,
Her soul a votive offering to him!

Then Twilight spread its purple fold
Dew-spangled o'er the blue sky's bosom,
And ripe and large as fruit of gold
Great sun-fed stars began to blossom,—
Such stars as never kindle save
Out yonder o'er the tropic wave,
Each like a little moon, and making
In the smooth Ocean trails of light,
While others, from the darkness breaking
Like bursting fruit, shot seaward shaking
Prismatic splendours through the night.
As each new splendour flashed afar
And melted in the quiet Main,
It seem'd as if some shining star
Had burst within the Wanderer's brain!
And spicy scents of that green Land
On the warm wind were wafted thither,
As holding that dark Maiden's hand,
Silent he sat, uplooking with her.
Then sighing heavily, he turn'd
His dark eyes shoreward, and discern'd
The spume upon the reef that fell
Like white milk from the coca-shell,
The waters round of lustre green
Alive with rays of starry sheen,
And far off, on the water's bound,
The Moon uprising large and round,
Clear lemon-yellow, without rays,
Out of the pathless ocean-ways!