 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
NIOBE
Behold I am the mother of all woes,
An isolation on a living earth
Of creatures meting love and loved again:
There is no moving life that loves me left.
An isolation on a living earth
Of creatures meting love and loved again:
There is no moving life that loves me left.
I dreamt that there was mercy with the gods,
And like a child I dreamt it: for I hold
The adder largely pitiful to these,
He kills not but in hunger and defence
And not for pastime: the brave Delian's bolt
Prefers the innocent: he draws on man
Behind his hedge of immortality
Secure of counter aim: trim courage this.
And noble exploit were it to besmear
Some widow's cheeks with sorrow: to destroy
Her orphan brood and quell the beaming eye:
To trample trust and youth in dust and shame.
I knew not this your right omnipotence.
I had but heard that man's adversity
Was something for your contemplative choir
To gaze upon with dull incurious eyes,
As on a curious picture new no more.
These gods have watched so many thousands die,
Have learnt so well each phase of human pain,
That, to relieve their leisure, they must plan
Yet more ingenious torture: since to slay
At once were feeble pastime, stale and old:
Stale as that old, old prayer, monotonous,
For something which these men have Mercy named,
A word forbidden in the shining halls,
Or with your dynasty of recent gods
Disused and changed for Vengeance.
And like a child I dreamt it: for I hold
The adder largely pitiful to these,
He kills not but in hunger and defence
And not for pastime: the brave Delian's bolt
Prefers the innocent: he draws on man
Behind his hedge of immortality
Secure of counter aim: trim courage this.
And noble exploit were it to besmear
Some widow's cheeks with sorrow: to destroy
Her orphan brood and quell the beaming eye:
To trample trust and youth in dust and shame.
I knew not this your right omnipotence.
I had but heard that man's adversity
Was something for your contemplative choir
To gaze upon with dull incurious eyes,
107
These gods have watched so many thousands die,
Have learnt so well each phase of human pain,
That, to relieve their leisure, they must plan
Yet more ingenious torture: since to slay
At once were feeble pastime, stale and old:
Stale as that old, old prayer, monotonous,
For something which these men have Mercy named,
A word forbidden in the shining halls,
Or with your dynasty of recent gods
Disused and changed for Vengeance.
Art thou King
O Zeus, who drowsest on thy dappled clouds?
Thou spreadest hugely on the wearied clouds:
Dost wake to murder, as a prince to hunt,
Clearing the fumes of nectar round thy brain
With thunder tossed in pastime on our towns?
Tear up the yellow harvests with thy brand,
And cheat the hungry mouths of foodless men:
Mock them with famine: let the slaves lick up
The leavings of thy storm: some patch of maize
Outstands the scathing bluster: the rained brooks
Are drink enough, and draff and shards content
The aches of famine till men cease, and pass
Under the night to plague the gods no more:
Their dole of tears is wept: they fear no cold.
O Zeus, who drowsest on thy dappled clouds?
Thou spreadest hugely on the wearied clouds:
Dost wake to murder, as a prince to hunt,
Clearing the fumes of nectar round thy brain
With thunder tossed in pastime on our towns?
Tear up the yellow harvests with thy brand,
And cheat the hungry mouths of foodless men:
Mock them with famine: let the slaves lick up
The leavings of thy storm: some patch of maize
Outstands the scathing bluster: the rained brooks
Are drink enough, and draff and shards content
The aches of famine till men cease, and pass
Under the night to plague the gods no more:
Their dole of tears is wept: they fear no cold.
Ye thralls of meanest vengeance, tyrant gods,
Who mar the sacred nature in her fruit,
Who relish all disorder and unfaith,
Whence your authority that frame such deeds?
Ill power that put you stronger than our lives.
But not your scorn or anger can bereave
The freedom of the breast, that bears about
Innate rebellion to your craven powers.
Ye cannot silence the pale lips, that hurl
The birthright of their protest in the teeth
Of domineering wrong they cannot stay,
Since some blind fate has seated wrong supreme.
Who mar the sacred nature in her fruit,
Who relish all disorder and unfaith,
Whence your authority that frame such deeds?
Ill power that put you stronger than our lives.
But not your scorn or anger can bereave
The freedom of the breast, that bears about
Innate rebellion to your craven powers.
Ye cannot silence the pale lips, that hurl
The birthright of their protest in the teeth
Of domineering wrong they cannot stay,
Since some blind fate has seated wrong supreme.
Triumph in wrong, thou race of Zeus: the earth,
Is at thy feet for carnage: run thy day
Of tyranny, and turn thy careless eyes
To other desolation: there is food
For thine immortal arrows otherwhere,
And children fair as mine in peaceful homes
For new destruction: slacken not thy hand,
Lest men grown happy say thy rule is done.
It is a fruitful race this breed of man,
And thrives by thinning: victims will not fail:
To spare, lest this should be, were idiot fear:
Not thy full malice shall extirpate all.
Is at thy feet for carnage: run thy day
Of tyranny, and turn thy careless eyes
To other desolation: there is food
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And children fair as mine in peaceful homes
For new destruction: slacken not thy hand,
Lest men grown happy say thy rule is done.
It is a fruitful race this breed of man,
And thrives by thinning: victims will not fail:
To spare, lest this should be, were idiot fear:
Not thy full malice shall extirpate all.
But, O ye elder race of gentler gods,
Whom these have bound in darkness, whom the voice
Of lamentation at the upstart Kings
Adjures as only worthy to command;
As only gods in deed, tho' these prevail.
Our hope is towards you chained beneath the world:
We whisper that you are not conquered yet:
That not in record human or divine
Was evil yet eternal: tyranny
Is doomed as soon as born, and bears about
The seeds of sure destruction, from the germ
Coeval with its growth; and doomed its rule
However long the respite of its fall.
Whom these have bound in darkness, whom the voice
Of lamentation at the upstart Kings
Adjures as only worthy to command;
As only gods in deed, tho' these prevail.
Our hope is towards you chained beneath the world:
We whisper that you are not conquered yet:
That not in record human or divine
Was evil yet eternal: tyranny
Is doomed as soon as born, and bears about
The seeds of sure destruction, from the germ
Coeval with its growth; and doomed its rule
However long the respite of its fall.
Arise, ye Titans then, for these are weak,
Rend out your adamantine chains, and shake
The mountains from your limbs, infirm no more
To yield your ancient seats: resume that might
Which girdled round the world ere these had drawn
Their baby milk, and crush them from the sky.
Arise, ye Titans, and avenge my tears.
Rend out your adamantine chains, and shake
The mountains from your limbs, infirm no more
To yield your ancient seats: resume that might
Which girdled round the world ere these had drawn
Their baby milk, and crush them from the sky.
Arise, ye Titans, and avenge my tears.
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |