The poems of Owen Meredith (Honble Robert Lytton.) Selected and revised by the author. Copyright edition. In two volumes |
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BLUEBEARD. |
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 | The poems of Owen Meredith (Honble Robert Lytton.) |  |
166
BLUEBEARD.
I
Fair in the love of Fatima(A maiden like an evening star)
Lay hid this stain'd and crookèd life,
As in its sheath my scimitar:
II
For fair with flowrets damasceneThe sheath is traced and twined about,
But on the blade are blood-spots black
That time and rust will not wear out.
III
Beneath the hot pomegranate boughsAt sunset here alone we sat.
To call back something from that hour,
I'd give away my Caliphat.
IV
“—Am I not fair?”“As evening air,”
I answer'd.
“Fresh?”
“As April's sky.”
“Whate'er I be,” she whisper'd me,
“I love thee, and all thine am I.
167
V
“Be satisfied.”“Alas!” I sigh'd.
And “wherefore do'st thou sigh?” she said.
“Because I trace in thy fair face
“The likeness of a face that's dead.”
VI
Rash question, rash reply!The rest
Is writ in tears where all who read
Revile my name. Ah Fatima,
Why did'st thou seek to know my dead?
VII
Large realms were thine, with one reserve:Full many a chamber, many a hall,
Thy wandering thought was free to rove:
I gave thee up the keys of all.
VIII
One only key I warn'd thee, spareTo use; because it opes a door
That's shut for thy sake and for mine,
But, open'd once, will shut no more:
IX
And thou that door hast oped, and thouHast gazed upon the dead, and I
That most thy fault, rash child, deplore,
Must needs inflict its penalty!
| The poems of Owen Meredith (Honble Robert Lytton.) | |