 | Poems, Ballads and Bucolics |  |
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THE POET'S HOME-GOING.
“I shall soon depart for Venice on my way homeward.”
His heart was where the summer ever shines,
He saw the English swallow eastward come,
And still among the olives and the vines,
Or underneath the dark sun-scented pines
Of Asolo, he hummed his latest lines,
And bade his white-winged songs go flying home.
He saw the English swallow eastward come,
And still among the olives and the vines,
Or underneath the dark sun-scented pines
Of Asolo, he hummed his latest lines,
And bade his white-winged songs go flying home.
Then when the red sails round by Lido came
To rest, and vacant now the gondolier
Beneath the Lion and those masts aflame
Lounged, bickering o'er his boy's piazza-game,
One darker boat came quaywards, called his name,
And straight toward the sunset seemed to steer.
To rest, and vacant now the gondolier
Beneath the Lion and those masts aflame
Lounged, bickering o'er his boy's piazza-game,
One darker boat came quaywards, called his name,
And straight toward the sunset seemed to steer.
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High at the prow a Lion ramped, pure gold;
Pure gold and with the lily in her hand
The Maid, whose virgin arms did once enfold
The world's Salvation, leaned to bless the hold,
And smiled on him whose music had extolled
The Lion and the Lily of the land.
Pure gold and with the lily in her hand
The Maid, whose virgin arms did once enfold
The world's Salvation, leaned to bless the hold,
And smiled on him whose music had extolled
The Lion and the Lily of the land.
His face was pale, but not with fear nor pain,
His hand still held the harp; I heard his voice
Come ringing with a new majestic strain,
Rememberable music: through the rain
Of tears I saw across the water-plain
His eyes were towards the Florence of his choice.
His hand still held the harp; I heard his voice
Come ringing with a new majestic strain,
Rememberable music: through the rain
Of tears I saw across the water-plain
His eyes were towards the Florence of his choice.
And up into the lordly Palace Hall
Those strangers passed who called him to the shore,
And o'er one sleeping did they lay for pall
Italia's love and England's loss, and all
Cried, “He whose spirit the Heaven from Earth doth call,
Freed men, and lo, is freed for evermore.”
Those strangers passed who called him to the shore,
And o'er one sleeping did they lay for pall
Italia's love and England's loss, and all
Cried, “He whose spirit the Heaven from Earth doth call,
Freed men, and lo, is freed for evermore.”
“Free as the stars to rush upon the dark;
Free as the dawn to rise above the sea;
Free as the flood to feel its highest mark
On this Rialto; free from care or cark;
Free as the heart of yonder dwindling bark
To touch all havens where the blest ones be.”
Free as the dawn to rise above the sea;
Free as the flood to feel its highest mark
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Free as the heart of yonder dwindling bark
To touch all havens where the blest ones be.”
“But freed the most to find his being whole,
‘The broken arc, in Heaven a perfect round’;
Free with the freedom of that kindred soul
Whose love and life through all the under-roll
Of sorrowful dark, has kept him to the goal,
And free to utter his full self in sound.”
‘The broken arc, in Heaven a perfect round’;
Free with the freedom of that kindred soul
Whose love and life through all the under-roll
Of sorrowful dark, has kept him to the goal,
And free to utter his full self in sound.”
Then with those strangers silently we went,
Pushed from the steps, left Venice flaming bright
Above her sunset waters; backward bent
Towers shook, so swift astern the waves were sent
Domes danced, and back the harp's accompaniment
Came with his voice to call us toward the night.
Pushed from the steps, left Venice flaming bright
Above her sunset waters; backward bent
Towers shook, so swift astern the waves were sent
Domes danced, and back the harp's accompaniment
Came with his voice to call us toward the night.
And other voices called, for other prows
Pushed after, gorgeous, sweet for myrtle flowers,
With long-robed men therein, upon whose brows
Were caps of honour such as he who knows
Bellini's Doge can tell of, men of vows
By their tight lips, the men who built the towers.
Pushed after, gorgeous, sweet for myrtle flowers,
With long-robed men therein, upon whose brows
Were caps of honour such as he who knows
Bellini's Doge can tell of, men of vows
By their tight lips, the men who built the towers.
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And strange-clad legates, cardinals of Rome,
Painters, and music-makers of old time,
Not great in fame, but greater to have come
To life through struggle; and with these were some
Ladies with lustrous hair above the dome
Of perfect foreheads, moulders of men's rhyme.
Painters, and music-makers of old time,
Not great in fame, but greater to have come
To life through struggle; and with these were some
Ladies with lustrous hair above the dome
Of perfect foreheads, moulders of men's rhyme.
These wept; those cried, “To what far island steers
The boat that bears our poet-soul away?
We built the city, but his glory rears
Anew the walls, eternal as the years;
We took the sea to marriage, but he wears
The ring that weds our Venice. Let him stay!”
The boat that bears our poet-soul away?
We built the city, but his glory rears
Anew the walls, eternal as the years;
We took the sea to marriage, but he wears
The ring that weds our Venice. Let him stay!”
The voices failed, night fell, the harp was still,
A new star rose to shine upon our way;
We scarce could hear that far-off planet's thrill,
Yet the bright jewel burned, and burned to fill
The dusk with music. “Death can no more kill,”
The constellation seemed in song to say.
A new star rose to shine upon our way;
We scarce could hear that far-off planet's thrill,
Yet the bright jewel burned, and burned to fill
The dusk with music. “Death can no more kill,”
The constellation seemed in song to say.
Then the stars paled, yet paled not that bright star,
But grew: the grey sea heaved from dusk to gold,
And sailing we were ware of hills afar—
The amethystine hills where angels are—
That rose from burnished calm no tempests mar
To skies of peace that never can grow old.
But grew: the grey sea heaved from dusk to gold,
And sailing we were ware of hills afar—
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That rose from burnished calm no tempests mar
To skies of peace that never can grow old.
The earth seemed fairer than the fairest day
Seen by a bridegroom on his marriage morn,
For love and life did haunt those hills alway,
And aspiration that would still essay
Climbed up those heights by God's directest way
To find One seated there of woman born.
Seen by a bridegroom on his marriage morn,
For love and life did haunt those hills alway,
And aspiration that would still essay
Climbed up those heights by God's directest way
To find One seated there of woman born.
These were the hills we knew,” the pilot said,
“Yet shoreward now no angry breakers roll;
The bay is more magnificently spread,
To rosier height rears up yon mountain head,
Such hills as in the ‘Heavenly Song’ are read,
The gardens of the glory of the soul.”
“Yet shoreward now no angry breakers roll;
The bay is more magnificently spread,
To rosier height rears up yon mountain head,
Such hills as in the ‘Heavenly Song’ are read,
The gardens of the glory of the soul.”
We neared the land, and multitudes foreknew
His coming, waved a forestry of palm.
The Singer's face most like an angel grew,
Far off we saw what fires rekindled flew
Forth from his eyes, as near the vessel drew,
And o'er the waves to meet us came a Psalm—
His coming, waved a forestry of palm.
The Singer's face most like an angel grew,
Far off we saw what fires rekindled flew
Forth from his eyes, as near the vessel drew,
And o'er the waves to meet us came a Psalm—
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“O girder of Truth's sword upon men's thigh,
And looser of men's fear for mortal harm,
If but they leave their castles to the sky,
And go forth dauntless when the foe draws nigh,
Thine was the clarion call to victory
Against the world's inevitable swarm!”
And looser of men's fear for mortal harm,
If but they leave their castles to the sky,
And go forth dauntless when the foe draws nigh,
Thine was the clarion call to victory
Against the world's inevitable swarm!”
They clanged the harps, the Singer stepped ashore:
“For you, for you,” they cried, “we waited long!”
One brought a golden orb, another bore
The crown that cannot wither; one before
Went with a trumpet, saying, “Evermore
Shall this our brother gladden us with song!”
“For you, for you,” they cried, “we waited long!”
One brought a golden orb, another bore
The crown that cannot wither; one before
Went with a trumpet, saying, “Evermore
Shall this our brother gladden us with song!”
Then as the Singer's forehead felt the crown,
Thoughts that had long time struggled into birth
Took form melodious, wonderful, full-grown,
And many souls came near to him half-known,
Souls strong through loss and loving like his own,
Friends of his mind and making upon earth.
Thoughts that had long time struggled into birth
Took form melodious, wonderful, full-grown,
And many souls came near to him half-known,
Souls strong through loss and loving like his own,
Friends of his mind and making upon earth.
On either side to let him forward move
The gracious congregation did divide;
But those clear eyes that flashed for joy to prove
The bliss of recognition, seemed to rove,
As looking for fulfilment of all love,
As yearning still, and still unsatisfied.
The gracious congregation did divide;
But those clear eyes that flashed for joy to prove
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As looking for fulfilment of all love,
As yearning still, and still unsatisfied.
There might I see how many a great one came
And asked of Venice. Blithe Carpaccio
The laugher; he who left undying name
High on Euganean hills; that queenly Dame
On whom the Doges wrought their deed of shame,
Dethroned in Cyprus, throned in Asolo.
And asked of Venice. Blithe Carpaccio
The laugher; he who left undying name
High on Euganean hills; that queenly Dame
On whom the Doges wrought their deed of shame,
Dethroned in Cyprus, throned in Asolo.
And there young Shelley, spoken with at last,
Moved towards him; fiery, tender Tintoret,
With strong Bellini: there no more downcast
Nor exiled, Dante; and great Goethe passed
To welcome, with that bard from England last,
His dark hair with the dews of Isis wet.
Moved towards him; fiery, tender Tintoret,
With strong Bellini: there no more downcast
Nor exiled, Dante; and great Goethe passed
To welcome, with that bard from England last,
His dark hair with the dews of Isis wet.
With these was one, the Grecian, he whose song
Rang round the quarry walls of Syracuse
And gave the slave his freedom from the thong
And chain and noon-tide prison-toil among
Hot cliffs; and fair Colonna joined the throng,
With her, made pure of heart, the Lesbian Muse.
Rang round the quarry walls of Syracuse
And gave the slave his freedom from the thong
And chain and noon-tide prison-toil among
Hot cliffs; and fair Colonna joined the throng,
With her, made pure of heart, the Lesbian Muse.
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And towards him, bowing low, Cellini led
Brave Palissy the Potter; 'neath his bar
Of brow stared Angelo, the whiles he read
The comer; looked Galuppi, he who wed
The viol; Galileo bent his head,
And Newton with the secret of a star.
Brave Palissy the Potter; 'neath his bar
Of brow stared Angelo, the whiles he read
The comer; looked Galuppi, he who wed
The viol; Galileo bent his head,
And Newton with the secret of a star.
And Burns was there; and Keats who spake of Rome;
And Byron, half ashamed for thoughts to rise
Of Venice; Coleridge, but how changed, had come
And Southey, glad for his regathered home,
And full of blossomed knowledge, from his dome
Of curls looked close with penetrative eyes.
And Byron, half ashamed for thoughts to rise
Of Venice; Coleridge, but how changed, had come
And Southey, glad for his regathered home,
And full of blossomed knowledge, from his dome
Of curls looked close with penetrative eyes.
And Milton did no sightless eyeball raise,
Familiar with Heaven's light above his peers;
Therewith walked one who strove not for the bays,
Nor felt the inalienable lust of praise,
Contented with one measure all his days,
Loved of our Laureate, prince of sonneteers.
Familiar with Heaven's light above his peers;
Therewith walked one who strove not for the bays,
Nor felt the inalienable lust of praise,
Contented with one measure all his days,
Loved of our Laureate, prince of sonneteers.
Two stood with stars about them—men who sang
Of that far home of freedom in the West;
And one who asked of France—how lilies sprang?
How olives flourished? then I heard a clang
Of Tuscan lutes, and from the midst there rang
Rossetti's voice in welcome to the guest.
Of that far home of freedom in the West;
And one who asked of France—how lilies sprang?
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Of Tuscan lutes, and from the midst there rang
Rossetti's voice in welcome to the guest.
But most the Singer seemed with awe to scan
One with a forehead god-like, whom they call,
Yea even in Heaven the chief, our “Avon swan”—
He gazed. Gazed Lionardo, and the man
Who felt Ferrara's bonds, and Titian,
Held with large eyes the new-come guest in thrall.
One with a forehead god-like, whom they call,
Yea even in Heaven the chief, our “Avon swan”—
He gazed. Gazed Lionardo, and the man
Who felt Ferrara's bonds, and Titian,
Held with large eyes the new-come guest in thrall.
And Chaucer, fresh as an eternal spring,
Came through the crowd to claim him of his band;
And Wordsworth, head and shoulders as a king
Above the souls who found life—Heaven's great thing
To be Earth's greatest, gave him welcoming,
And towards the throne went forward hand in hand.
Came through the crowd to claim him of his band;
And Wordsworth, head and shoulders as a king
Above the souls who found life—Heaven's great thing
To be Earth's greatest, gave him welcoming,
And towards the throne went forward hand in hand.
So up and on to perfect happiness,
With perfect power, toward the fountains clear
Of thought and hope, and love and faithfulness,
That pour in music through the clouds to bless
Our labouring planet, did these spirits press
Harmonious, saying things that angels hear.
With perfect power, toward the fountains clear
Of thought and hope, and love and faithfulness,
That pour in music through the clouds to bless
Our labouring planet, did these spirits press
Harmonious, saying things that angels hear.
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And glad to go, to stay half resolute
For loveliness, they led him. Roses chief
With lilies lit the way; like flames did shoot
Gold cypress trees; there grew the mandrake root
To harmless blossom; thistles bare sweet fruit,
And spiny thorns had burgeoned into leaf.
For loveliness, they led him. Roses chief
With lilies lit the way; like flames did shoot
Gold cypress trees; there grew the mandrake root
To harmless blossom; thistles bare sweet fruit,
And spiny thorns had burgeoned into leaf.
There most was perfect the fulfilled desire
Of all they are, who in pure love find all.
But still the Singer cried, “Our souls aspire,
And bright before us burns th' unquenched fire,
And up on eagles' wings that cannot tire
We go to greet the highest that doth call.”
Of all they are, who in pure love find all.
But still the Singer cried, “Our souls aspire,
And bright before us burns th' unquenched fire,
And up on eagles' wings that cannot tire
We go to greet the highest that doth call.”
“And I, even here, one angel voice would find,
Not changed in tone, yet fuller than of yore.
Oh, could mine eyes behold her, she whose mind
Was mirror of God's being to me blind
Who smote my harp in darkness, she who twined
The cords of loss that brought me to this shore!”
Not changed in tone, yet fuller than of yore.
Oh, could mine eyes behold her, she whose mind
Was mirror of God's being to me blind
Who smote my harp in darkness, she who twined
The cords of loss that brought me to this shore!”
E'en as he spake, with amaranth on her brow,
And all the long upgathered love of years,
Came one whose eyes from distance seemed to know
Her bliss his perfect glory; with such glow
Souls met and mingled, the sad Earth below
Felt the far joy in Heaven, and ceased from tears.
And all the long upgathered love of years,
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Her bliss his perfect glory; with such glow
Souls met and mingled, the sad Earth below
Felt the far joy in Heaven, and ceased from tears.
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