The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley [i.e. J. B. L. Warren] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
DÆDALUS |
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 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
DÆDALUS
The craftsman Dædalus, the slave of kings,
Artificer of nations, instrument
Of fools that use his fingers, and refuse
The shelter of their gates, the drift and mock
Of royal whim and civic insolence,
The man of ready brain and cunning hand—
It has not come to much this life of mine.
Artificer of nations, instrument
Of fools that use his fingers, and refuse
The shelter of their gates, the drift and mock
Of royal whim and civic insolence,
The man of ready brain and cunning hand—
It has not come to much this life of mine.
105
Yet once again an exile: there it lies,
This city which I peopled with my brain,
And fed with water from the hills, and changed
Their hovels into marble palaces,
And carved them gods to worship with the eyes
Of mortal beauty: this is my reward.
This petty tyrant thunders like a Zeus
And thrusts me out on surmise, with excuse,
“Forsooth his craft is dry, and we have reapt
His brain to stubble: let him pack and flee,
Lest he should flout us with his benefits.”
This city which I peopled with my brain,
And fed with water from the hills, and changed
Their hovels into marble palaces,
And carved them gods to worship with the eyes
Of mortal beauty: this is my reward.
This petty tyrant thunders like a Zeus
And thrusts me out on surmise, with excuse,
“Forsooth his craft is dry, and we have reapt
His brain to stubble: let him pack and flee,
Lest he should flout us with his benefits.”
Was it for this that I have pondered out
The forces of the earth, and made man strong
Beyond his puny fibre to remove
Some mountain like the Titans? As a god,
Creating power in new development,
I seated man the regent of the world:
Whom I had found a cowering slave, beneath
The cattle in endurance, walking blind
Among the helps and wonders at his feet.
The forces of the earth, and made man strong
Beyond his puny fibre to remove
Some mountain like the Titans? As a god,
Creating power in new development,
I seated man the regent of the world:
Whom I had found a cowering slave, beneath
The cattle in endurance, walking blind
Among the helps and wonders at his feet.
It is the curse of wisdom to endure
The scorn of fools that use us when their need
Is ended; then the brutish herd accounts
Intelligence as treason to the rule
Of universal blindness. I have seen
The noisy birds that peck to death their kind
If one of lighter plumage should intrude
Among their even blackness; typing thus,
How men reject the spirits that presume
To leave their age behind them, and uphold
Attentive faces to the purple light
That thickens where the later sun shall tread.
The scorn of fools that use us when their need
Is ended; then the brutish herd accounts
Intelligence as treason to the rule
Of universal blindness. I have seen
The noisy birds that peck to death their kind
If one of lighter plumage should intrude
Among their even blackness; typing thus,
How men reject the spirits that presume
To leave their age behind them, and uphold
Attentive faces to the purple light
That thickens where the later sun shall tread.
For he that smooths the daily lives of men
By mere material comfort must upraise
The moral nature: as the home the man.
I have done this, have built their houses firm
And beautiful; so taught them to provide
A better food with fire: to reap their crops,
And carve or plane the fissile woods at hand.
In softer wools I clothed them, and have drawn
The flax in closest fibre. At my hand
The sea-shell rendered up intenser stain;
For colour works with form an equal power,
Subduing and refining thro' the world.
By mere material comfort must upraise
The moral nature: as the home the man.
I have done this, have built their houses firm
And beautiful; so taught them to provide
A better food with fire: to reap their crops,
And carve or plane the fissile woods at hand.
In softer wools I clothed them, and have drawn
The flax in closest fibre. At my hand
The sea-shell rendered up intenser stain;
For colour works with form an equal power,
Subduing and refining thro' the world.
106
I must not pause to murmur, or the night
Shall take me on the summits: I would live
And reap, in spite of envy, the delight
Of new creation for itself; beyond
I know there is no recompence: my work
Is excellent or worthless in itself;
And I am weak to murmur if to-day
Is chary of its praise, the after-time
Will set me right. If the blind mole reprove
The glory of the dawn shall nature cease
Her radiance for his blindness? I will on,
And scorn to stint my effort till the end.
The gods, that made me what I am, will keep
My record and avenge me on this age.
In Hellas there are towns enough to prove
My use and my rejection. Chance shall guide
My footsteps: in our energy we live,
And all the rest is dream and accident.
Shall take me on the summits: I would live
And reap, in spite of envy, the delight
Of new creation for itself; beyond
I know there is no recompence: my work
Is excellent or worthless in itself;
And I am weak to murmur if to-day
Is chary of its praise, the after-time
Will set me right. If the blind mole reprove
The glory of the dawn shall nature cease
Her radiance for his blindness? I will on,
And scorn to stint my effort till the end.
The gods, that made me what I am, will keep
My record and avenge me on this age.
In Hellas there are towns enough to prove
My use and my rejection. Chance shall guide
My footsteps: in our energy we live,
And all the rest is dream and accident.
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |