The Works of Dante Gabriel Rossetti Edited with Preface and Notes by William M. Rossetti: Revised and Enlarged Edition |
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| POEMS BY FRANCESCO AND GAETANO POLIDORI |
 | The Works of Dante Gabriel Rossetti |  |
POEMS BY FRANCESCO AND GAETANO POLIDORI
538
[Extract from Il Losario]
Silent, she lifted softly through the wave
All her divine white bosom; seeming there
As when Aurora, freed from night's dull cave,
Fills full of roses the sweet morning air;
Then, with a hand more white than snows which pave
The Alps, upon their brows that water clear
She shook; and, to the immediate summons sent,
The monster's presence stirr'd the element.
All her divine white bosom; seeming there
As when Aurora, freed from night's dull cave,
Fills full of roses the sweet morning air;
Then, with a hand more white than snows which pave
The Alps, upon their brows that water clear
She shook; and, to the immediate summons sent,
The monster's presence stirr'd the element.
And the banks shudder'd, and the sky grew dark,
As the dark river heaved with that obscene
Infamous bulk: the while each knight, to mark
His 'vantage, hover'd, stout in heart and mien,
Around it. Watchful were their eyes, and stark
Losario's onset; and yet weak, I ween,
Against the constant spray of fire and smoke,
Which from the dragon's lips and nostrils broke.
As the dark river heaved with that obscene
Infamous bulk: the while each knight, to mark
His 'vantage, hover'd, stout in heart and mien,
Around it. Watchful were their eyes, and stark
Losario's onset; and yet weak, I ween,
Against the constant spray of fire and smoke,
Which from the dragon's lips and nostrils broke.
Blinded and baffled by the hideous rain,
And stunn'd with gnashing fangs and scourged with claws,
Still brave Losario toils, but spends in vain
His strength against the dragon without pause;
Till at the last, one mighty stroke amain
Within the nether rack of those foul jaws
He dealt. Then fume and flame together ceased
At once; and on the palpitating beast
And stunn'd with gnashing fangs and scourged with claws,
Still brave Losario toils, but spends in vain
His strength against the dragon without pause;
Till at the last, one mighty stroke amain
Within the nether rack of those foul jaws
He dealt. Then fume and flame together ceased
At once; and on the palpitating beast
The champion fell with his strong naked hands;
And right and left such iron blows struck he
On that hard front, that far across the sands
The deep woods utter'd echoes heavily;
A noise like that when some broad roof withstands
The hail-clouds under which the cattle flee.
But when at length those open jaws emit
A flickering tongue, the prince lays hold on it.
And right and left such iron blows struck he
On that hard front, that far across the sands
The deep woods utter'd echoes heavily;
A noise like that when some broad roof withstands
The hail-clouds under which the cattle flee.
But when at length those open jaws emit
A flickering tongue, the prince lays hold on it.
Then Antasete, who by the creature's flank
Still watch'd, obedient to the nymph, did rouse
His strength, and up the rugged loins that stank
Clomb on its neck, and bit it in the brows.
Straight as his teeth within the forehead sank,
Those execrable limbs fell ponderous;
And from the wound such spilth of gore was shed,
That lips, and chin, and fingers, were all red.
Still watch'd, obedient to the nymph, did rouse
His strength, and up the rugged loins that stank
Clomb on its neck, and bit it in the brows.
Straight as his teeth within the forehead sank,
Those execrable limbs fell ponderous;
And from the wound such spilth of gore was shed,
That lips, and chin, and fingers, were all red.
539
WINTER
In this dead winter season now,
Whose rigid sky is like a corpse,
Awhile beneath some naked bough
Here let me stand, beholding how
The frost all earthly life absorbs.
Whose rigid sky is like a corpse,
Awhile beneath some naked bough
Here let me stand, beholding how
The frost all earthly life absorbs.
Yet fair the sky with clouds o'erspread,
As in grey mantle garmented;
While hastily or placidly
The snow's white flakes descend to clothe
The pleasant world and all its growth.
And passing fair it is to see
How hills and multitudinous woods,
And trees alone in solitudes,
Accept the white shroud silently;
And I have watch'd and deem'd it fair,
While myrtle, laurel, juniper,
Slowly were hidden; while each spring,
Each river, crept, an unknown thing,
Beneath its crystal covering.
As in grey mantle garmented;
While hastily or placidly
The snow's white flakes descend to clothe
The pleasant world and all its growth.
And passing fair it is to see
How hills and multitudinous woods,
And trees alone in solitudes,
Accept the white shroud silently;
And I have watch'd and deem'd it fair,
While myrtle, laurel, juniper,
Slowly were hidden; while each spring,
Each river, crept, an unknown thing,
Beneath its crystal covering.
540
Then shalt thou see, beside the wan
Changed surface of his watery home,
Stand lean and cold the famish'd swan,—
One foot within his ruffled plumes
Upgather'd, while his eyes will roam
Around, till from the wintry glooms
Beneath the wing they hopelessly
Take shelter, that they may not see.
And though sad thoughts within her rise
At the drear sight, yet it shall soothe
Thy soul to look in any guise
Upon the teaching face of truth.
Changed surface of his watery home,
Stand lean and cold the famish'd swan,—
One foot within his ruffled plumes
Upgather'd, while his eyes will roam
Around, till from the wintry glooms
Beneath the wing they hopelessly
Take shelter, that they may not see.
And though sad thoughts within her rise
At the drear sight, yet it shall soothe
Thy soul to look in any guise
Upon the teaching face of truth.
Or shall no beauty fill the mind,
No lesson—when the flocks stand fast,
Their backs all set against the blast,
Labouring immovable, combined,
Till they with their weak feet have burst
The frost-bound treasure of the stream,
And now at length may quench their thirst?
And O! how beautiful doth seem
That evening journey when the herd
Troop homeward by accustom'd ways,
All night in paddock there to graze,
And know the joy of rest deferr'd.
Or if the crow, the sullen bird,
Upon some leafless branch in view,
Thrusts forth his neck, and flaps the bleak
Dry wind, and grates his ravenous beak,
That sight may feed thy musings too.
No lesson—when the flocks stand fast,
Their backs all set against the blast,
Labouring immovable, combined,
Till they with their weak feet have burst
The frost-bound treasure of the stream,
And now at length may quench their thirst?
And O! how beautiful doth seem
That evening journey when the herd
Troop homeward by accustom'd ways,
All night in paddock there to graze,
And know the joy of rest deferr'd.
Or if the crow, the sullen bird,
Upon some leafless branch in view,
Thrusts forth his neck, and flaps the bleak
Dry wind, and grates his ravenous beak,
That sight may feed thy musings too.
And grand it is, 'mid forest boughs,
In darkness, awfully forlorn,
At night to hear the wind carouse,
Within whose breath the strong trees quake
Or stand with naked limbs all torn;
While such unwonted clamours wake
Around, that over all the plain
Fear walks abroad, and tremble then
The flocks, the herds, the husbandmen.
In darkness, awfully forlorn,
At night to hear the wind carouse,
Within whose breath the strong trees quake
Or stand with naked limbs all torn;
While such unwonted clamours wake
Around, that over all the plain
Fear walks abroad, and tremble then
The flocks, the herds, the husbandmen.
But most sublime of all, most holy,
The unfathomable melancholy
When winds are silent in their cells;
When underneath the moon's calm light,
And in the unalter'd snow which veils
All height and depth—to look thereon,
It seems throughout the solemn night
As if the earth and sky were one.
The unfathomable melancholy
When winds are silent in their cells;
When underneath the moon's calm light,
And in the unalter'd snow which veils
All height and depth—to look thereon,
It seems throughout the solemn night
As if the earth and sky were one.
SONNET TO THE LAUREL
Approaching thee, thou growth of mystic spell,That wast of old a virgin fair and wise,
I fix upon thee my devoted eyes
And stand a little while immovable.
Then if in the low breeze thy branches quail—
“What, so afraid?” I say; “not I, poor tree,
Apollo; though my heart hath cherish'd thee
Because thou crown'st his children's foreheads well.”
Then half-incensed, abasing mine own brow—
“These leaves,” I muse, “how many crave—with these
How few at length the flattering gods endow!
I hoped—ah! shall I hope again? Nay, cease.
Too much, alas! the world's rude clamours now
Bewilder mine accorded cadences.”
| The Works of Dante Gabriel Rossetti | |