 | Preludes and Romances |  |
PRELUDE: AT PEVENSEY CASTLE
The year had put her sombre raiment by,
The earth her snowy mantle long forgot;
The lark's song rippled down the radiant sky,
The full-toned ousel thrilled the gardenplat;
All meadows were as pleasances, all seas
As quiet lakes made for delight and ease.
The earth her snowy mantle long forgot;
The lark's song rippled down the radiant sky,
The full-toned ousel thrilled the gardenplat;
All meadows were as pleasances, all seas
As quiet lakes made for delight and ease.
Then on a joyous eventide of June
Again the seven light hearts set out together,
With footsteps dancing and with thoughts in tune
To Nature's gladness and the golden weather,
To where the far-seen walls of Pevensey
Rise from the levels, ivied, green, and grey.
Again the seven light hearts set out together,
With footsteps dancing and with thoughts in tune
To Nature's gladness and the golden weather,
To where the far-seen walls of Pevensey
Rise from the levels, ivied, green, and grey.
22
Ruined the place lies on the wide green lea,
As on a lone shore a long-stranded ship,
Forgotten plaything of the inconstant sea,
Lies ruined; her no more the wavelets lip
Nor billows buffet, nor her sailors' cry
Sounds o'er the darkening waters lustily.
As on a lone shore a long-stranded ship,
Forgotten plaything of the inconstant sea,
Lies ruined; her no more the wavelets lip
Nor billows buffet, nor her sailors' cry
Sounds o'er the darkening waters lustily.
The sand o'erflowing gluts her roofless hold;
Stark are her ribs that kept the storms at bay,
No more of service, though they stand as bold
And apt of curve as on her keeling-day;
A thousand she hath mothered: now not one
Cares that she once was fair to look upon.
Stark are her ribs that kept the storms at bay,
No more of service, though they stand as bold
And apt of curve as on her keeling-day;
A thousand she hath mothered: now not one
Cares that she once was fair to look upon.
Nor here is any life, or labouring hand,
Or busy market, or defending arm;
The walls, the towers, men toiled so long at, stand
Outworn defences 'gainst forgotten harm;
The grass that buries all things hath hid deep
The hearth and roof-tree as the midden-heap.
Or busy market, or defending arm;
The walls, the towers, men toiled so long at, stand
Outworn defences 'gainst forgotten harm;
The grass that buries all things hath hid deep
The hearth and roof-tree as the midden-heap.
23
The Roman city and Norman citadel
Are now one ruin, though their builders wrought
A thousand years disparted. The green swell
Of earth untrampled lies where Briton fought
So fiercely with the engulfing Saxon horde,
And Saxon slaved for Norman overlord.
Are now one ruin, though their builders wrought
A thousand years disparted. The green swell
Of earth untrampled lies where Briton fought
So fiercely with the engulfing Saxon horde,
And Saxon slaved for Norman overlord.
There they re-gathered from old chroniclers
The scanty record; saw what was of yore
Pictured by guess-work of geographers,
And pieced to shape by antiquarian lore;
Until the Present to the Past gave place,
And earth before them wore her ancient face.
The scanty record; saw what was of yore
Pictured by guess-work of geographers,
And pieced to shape by antiquarian lore;
Until the Present to the Past gave place,
And earth before them wore her ancient face.
Rose to their eyes in necromantic dream
Wide marshes, tide-brimmed to a bright lagoon,
Where, like November leaves upon a stream,
The low bird-haunted eyots hung a-swoon;
Till on the chiefest island grew one day
The Roman fortress of Anderida.
Wide marshes, tide-brimmed to a bright lagoon,
Where, like November leaves upon a stream,
The low bird-haunted eyots hung a-swoon;
Till on the chiefest island grew one day
The Roman fortress of Anderida.
24
They saw the sentries, pacing on the wall,
Look northward to the low hills, forest-crowned,
Whence danger of the wild men might befall,
And southward to the sea from out whose bound
The swift sea-snake-like Saxon galleys came
With threat perpetual of sword and flame.
Look northward to the low hills, forest-crowned,
Whence danger of the wild men might befall,
And southward to the sea from out whose bound
The swift sea-snake-like Saxon galleys came
With threat perpetual of sword and flame.
Till, when the waves of earthquake swept the world,
Ring upon ring, as giant Rome went down,
Thick as the snowflakes on the north wind whirled,
The wild barbarian swooped on city and town;
Vain were these marshes and these ramparts vain;
To the last man were the defenders slain.
Ring upon ring, as giant Rome went down,
Thick as the snowflakes on the north wind whirled,
The wild barbarian swooped on city and town;
Vain were these marshes and these ramparts vain;
To the last man were the defenders slain.
Then in their talk they turned a later page,
And saw the Norman vessels fill the bay.
“Almost,” said one, “these walls might see engage
The flashing hosts on Senlac's fateful day;
Ev'n yet the eye on yon far upland sees
Or fancies the great Abbey 'mid the trees.”
And saw the Norman vessels fill the bay.
“Almost,” said one, “these walls might see engage
The flashing hosts on Senlac's fateful day;
Ev'n yet the eye on yon far upland sees
Or fancies the great Abbey 'mid the trees.”
25
Like little paper boats by children urged
From the still margin out to the strong stream,
So fancy, lightly loosed, was caught and merged
In the full current of historic dream;
And age on age they touched, and England's power
And fortune followed to the actual hour.
From the still margin out to the strong stream,
So fancy, lightly loosed, was caught and merged
In the full current of historic dream;
And age on age they touched, and England's power
And fortune followed to the actual hour.
Then one: “What help hath History, or what gain
The tale half told, half guessed-at, of dead days?
A chilling mist that rises from past rain;
A ghost that frights us from light-hearted ways;
A parent's grief that darkens needlessly
A child's delight and glooms its hour of glee.
The tale half told, half guessed-at, of dead days?
A chilling mist that rises from past rain;
A ghost that frights us from light-hearted ways;
A parent's grief that darkens needlessly
A child's delight and glooms its hour of glee.
“Oh, it were happier to record no strife,
To note no battle-fields, to mark no graves,
To drink untainted our own draught of life,
And all unwistful watch the laughing waves;
Blithely as they to dance in sunny hours,
Sad only when the heaven above us lowers.
To note no battle-fields, to mark no graves,
To drink untainted our own draught of life,
And all unwistful watch the laughing waves;
Blithely as they to dance in sunny hours,
Sad only when the heaven above us lowers.
26
“Strong is the race that hath no memory left
Of its own past, except the hero-tale
Or legend long-descended, a bright weft
New-broidered on dim patterns worn and pale.
The Tree of Knowledge yields no strong-man's meat;
High purpose fails, fed on this evil sweet.”
Of its own past, except the hero-tale
Or legend long-descended, a bright weft
New-broidered on dim patterns worn and pale.
The Tree of Knowledge yields no strong-man's meat;
High purpose fails, fed on this evil sweet.”
“Aye,” said another; “yet what hand may guide
The set career and destiny of Man?
To say 'Twere better thus or thus; to chide
Light fancy, or by philosophic plan
Bind racial energies—this were a thing
Vain-tempted as to check a planet's swing.
The set career and destiny of Man?
To say 'Twere better thus or thus; to chide
Light fancy, or by philosophic plan
Bind racial energies—this were a thing
Vain-tempted as to check a planet's swing.
“We ride a rolling wave, and boast advance;
We set the sail and labour with the oar
To hasten or retard the moving chance,
That bears us helpless to an unknown shore;
And, proud of motion, like the Pharisee,
Thank God we are not as men used to be.
We set the sail and labour with the oar
To hasten or retard the moving chance,
That bears us helpless to an unknown shore;
And, proud of motion, like the Pharisee,
Thank God we are not as men used to be.
27
“O evil time when tender hearts were naught!
O cruel hands that could no mercy show!
O dark and heathen days ere pity taught
To spare the weak and tend the wounded foe!
Ev'n thus we murmur in our self-content,
Sure that we face the fixèd Orient.
O cruel hands that could no mercy show!
O dark and heathen days ere pity taught
To spare the weak and tend the wounded foe!
Ev'n thus we murmur in our self-content,
Sure that we face the fixèd Orient.
“We marvel that of such rude loins are we,
The flower of human kind, begot and born;
Nor question which to better end might be,
Our soft lives or the barbarism we scorn.
The wave rolls on; the generations ride
Secure of progress each in its own pride.”
The flower of human kind, begot and born;
Nor question which to better end might be,
Our soft lives or the barbarism we scorn.
The wave rolls on; the generations ride
Secure of progress each in its own pride.”
“O ravens 'mid the ruins!” laughed a voice
Low, girlish, light-of-heart. “The soft June air
Itself reproves your croaking. To my choice
Better a fool's hope than wise man's despair.
Let dismal Yesterday and dark To-morrow,
Seër and sage, take thought for their own sorrow!
Low, girlish, light-of-heart. “The soft June air
Itself reproves your croaking. To my choice
Better a fool's hope than wise man's despair.
Let dismal Yesterday and dark To-morrow,
Seër and sage, take thought for their own sorrow!
28
“Hath not our poet aught to fit the day,
The mouldered place, the melting evening mood?
For to a heart-sick world the poet's lay
'Twixt hope and wan-hope is a healing food.”
Came answer: “Will ye hear another tale
Rudely re-fashioned from that parchment pale?”
The mouldered place, the melting evening mood?
For to a heart-sick world the poet's lay
'Twixt hope and wan-hope is a healing food.”
Came answer: “Will ye hear another tale
Rudely re-fashioned from that parchment pale?”
There is a tower tall-rising, scarred and rent,
Of Norman's building; and a broad-topped wall
Beneath it. Here in sunshine and the scent
Of golden wall-flowers, looking wide o'er all
From emerald plain to purple promontory,
Silent they sat to hear the poet's story.
Of Norman's building; and a broad-topped wall
Beneath it. Here in sunshine and the scent
Of golden wall-flowers, looking wide o'er all
From emerald plain to purple promontory,
Silent they sat to hear the poet's story.
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