 | The Poetical Works of John Payne |  |
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VIII.THE RED ROSE.
ONE day, as from my bed I went,
I saw one stand before the door,
Whose hands a bough of blossom bore,
Snow-white and very sweet of scent.
I saw one stand before the door,
Whose hands a bough of blossom bore,
Snow-white and very sweet of scent.
His visage was full grave and sweet
And awful as the morning red,
When in the east the night is dead;
And lilies grew about his feet.
And awful as the morning red,
When in the east the night is dead;
And lilies grew about his feet.
His hair was of a tender gold,
As cowslips in the middle Spring,
And clad his shoulders, ring on ring;
It was full pleasant to behold.
As cowslips in the middle Spring,
And clad his shoulders, ring on ring;
It was full pleasant to behold.
White roses in his arms he held
And snow-white roses round his head;
But on his breast one rose was red,
As if his heart's blood there had welled;
And snow-white roses round his head;
But on his breast one rose was red,
As if his heart's blood there had welled;
And in one hand a lily-bell,
That garments of fair silver wore
And burnt red-golden at the core,
As 'twere the sun therein did dwell.
That garments of fair silver wore
And burnt red-golden at the core,
As 'twere the sun therein did dwell.
“Sir,” said I, “if I may be told,
What is the meaning of these flowers,
Whose like ne'er drank the Spring's soft showers
Nor ever grew on hill or wold?”
What is the meaning of these flowers,
Whose like ne'er drank the Spring's soft showers
Nor ever grew on hill or wold?”
“These are the roses of the city
Of God and eke of Christ,” he said,
“That erst in crimson were arrayed,
But now are turned all white for pity
Of God and eke of Christ,” he said,
“That erst in crimson were arrayed,
But now are turned all white for pity
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“Of human dolour and compassion
For blindness of mortality;
But in this other that ye see
The hue, in token of Christ's passion,
For blindness of mortality;
But in this other that ye see
The hue, in token of Christ's passion,
“Abides, that men may, in its sight,
The blood shed for them have in mind
And in its bloom fair hope may find
And in its smell may have delight.
The blood shed for them have in mind
And in its bloom fair hope may find
And in its smell may have delight.
“For this red rose I bear is Love,
That sweetens life and softens pain,
And thereto should all things be fain
And set its sweets all sweets above.”
That sweetens life and softens pain,
And thereto should all things be fain
And set its sweets all sweets above.”
“Sir,” said I, “if I may be told,
What is that lily that is dight
With leaves of such a lovely white
And at the heart is burning gold?”
What is that lily that is dight
With leaves of such a lovely white
And at the heart is burning gold?”
And he, “This is the sign of death,
That is without both white and cold,
But at the core is burning gold
And holdeth store of fragrant breath.
That is without both white and cold,
But at the core is burning gold
And holdeth store of fragrant breath.
“Choose which of these thou willest take,
For the dear God, in heaven that lives,
Such grace unto all mortals gives,
For Christ His Son's belovéd sake,
For the dear God, in heaven that lives,
Such grace unto all mortals gives,
For Christ His Son's belovéd sake,
“That each may once within his life
Make choice of roses red or white
Or lily with the heart of light,
To solace him in pain and strife.”
Make choice of roses red or white
Or lily with the heart of light,
To solace him in pain and strife.”
And I, “Sir, sorrow is enough
Within this life and world of ours
And death comes with the evening hours;
And so I choose the rose of Love.”
Within this life and world of ours
And death comes with the evening hours;
And so I choose the rose of Love.”
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Whereat my hand I stretchéd out,
That lovely crimson bloom to bear
From him and in my bosom wear;
But lo! my hand drew back in doubt
That lovely crimson bloom to bear
From him and in my bosom wear;
But lo! my hand drew back in doubt
Which it should take; for that one rose,
That in the wreath of white was red,
Had loren all its lustihead
And had put on the hue of those
That in the wreath of white was red,
Had loren all its lustihead
And had put on the hue of those
Which were upon the bough y-sprent;
And these, in stead, to crimson turned,
As 'twere new fire within them burned;
Nay, to the lily there was lent
And these, in stead, to crimson turned,
As 'twere new fire within them burned;
Nay, to the lily there was lent
A flush of colour; so I knew
Not which was lily nor which rose,
Which was the blossom that I chose,
So like a bloom on each one blew.
Not which was lily nor which rose,
Which was the blossom that I chose,
So like a bloom on each one blew.
Then to the bearer, “Sir,” said I,
“Who art thou that, as no man may,
Dost make these colours change and play,
So that their semblants mock the eye?”
“Who art thou that, as no man may,
Dost make these colours change and play,
So that their semblants mock the eye?”
And he, “I draw no mortal breath:
The Lord, in heaven that reigns above,
Did give to me the name of ‘Love’;
But oftentimes men call me ‘Death’.”
The Lord, in heaven that reigns above,
Did give to me the name of ‘Love’;
But oftentimes men call me ‘Death’.”
And as he spoke, his seeming fled
And melted into empty air,
And I into this world of care
Went with knit brows and drooping head.
And melted into empty air,
And I into this world of care
Went with knit brows and drooping head.
And as among the folk I walked,
Along wide place and sunny street,
Meseemed mine eyes bytimes did meet
His form with whom I late had talked,
Along wide place and sunny street,
Meseemed mine eyes bytimes did meet
His form with whom I late had talked,
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As in the ways he went and strewed
White flowers and red with viewless hands;
And often in my dreams he stands
Before me, as that morn he stood.
White flowers and red with viewless hands;
And often in my dreams he stands
Before me, as that morn he stood.
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