The poems of Owen Meredith (Honble Robert Lytton.) Selected and revised by the author. Copyright edition. In two volumes |
 | I. |
 | II. |
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 | The poems of Owen Meredith (Honble Robert Lytton.) |  |
172
KING SOLOMON AND THE MOUSE.
I
King Solomon stood, in his crown of gold,Between the pillars before the altar,
In the house of the Lord. And the King was old,
And his strength began to falter,
So that he lean'd on his ebony staff,
Seal'd with the seal of the Pentegraph.
II
All of the golden fretted work,Without and within so rich and rare,
As high as the nest of the building stork,
Those pillars of cedar were:—
Wrought up to the brazen chapiters
Of the Sidonian artificers.
III
And the King stood still as a carven king,The carven cedarn beams below,
In his purple robe, with his signet ring,
And his beard as white as snow,
And his face to the Oracle, where the hymn
Dies under the wings of the Cherubim.
173
IV
The wings fold over the Oracle,And cover the heart and eyes of God:
The Spouse with pomegranate, lily, and bell,
Is glorious in her abode;
For with gold of Ophir, and scent of myrrh,
And purple of Tyre, the King clothed her.
V
By the soul of each slumbrous instrumentDrawn soft through the musical misty air,
The stream of the folk that came and went,
For worship and praise and prayer,
Flow'd to and fro, and up and down,
And round the King in his golden crown.
VI
And it came pass, as the King stood there,And look'd on the house he had built, with pride,
That the Hand of the Lord came unaware,
And touch'd him; so that he died,
In his purple robe, with his signet ring,
And the crown wherewith they had crown'd him king.
VII
And the stream of the folk that came and wentTo worship the Lord with prayer and praise,
Went softly ever, in wonderment,
For the King stood there always;
And it was solemn and strange to behold
That dead king crown'd with a crown of gold.
174
VIII
For he lean'd on his ebony staff upright!And over his shoulders the purple robe;
And his hair, and his beard, were both snow-white;
And the fear of him fill'd the globe;
So that none dared touch him, though he was dead,
He look'd so royal about the head.
IX
And the moons were changed: and the years roll'd on:And the new king reign'd in the old king's stead:
And men were married and buried anon:
But the King stood, stark and dead;
Leaning upright on his ebony staff;
Preserved by the sign of the Pentegraph.
X
And the stream of life, as it went and came,Ever for worship and praise and prayer,
Was awed by the face, and the fear, and the fame
Of the Dead King standing there;
For his hair was so white, and his eyes so cold,
That they left him alone with his crown of gold,
XI
Magnificent, dead, and dread, in the HouseOf the Lord, held there by the Pentegraph!
Until out from a pillar there ran a red mouse,
And gnaw'd through his ebony staff!
Then, flat on his face, the King fell down:
And they pick'd from the dust a golden crown.
| The poems of Owen Meredith (Honble Robert Lytton.) | |