The Poetical Works of George Barlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

O king Apollo
O'er mount and hollow
Do I not follow with weary feet?
Do I, pursuer,
Where skies are bluer
And meadows softer, recede, retreat?
Thy gold hair flaming
In front flight shaming
Leads onward ever, than stars more sweet.

112

II

How many follow
Thee, lord Apollo,
Yet lay no hands on thy garments' hem!
They sink down weary
By road-side dreary,
Sink, and the world hears nought of them:
Their harps are taken,
Their god forsaken,
And the austere lips of the god condemn.

III

But surely, surely,
Patiently, purely,
I have thee followed, O lord, O king!
I have not trembled,
Nor quaked, dissembled
Before the world,—but the deep pure thing
Thou gavest me, loudly,
Strongly and proudly,
I have not ceased, through life, to sing.

113

IV

The gift thou gavest
Among the bravest,
The dearest, sweetest, of loves and friends,
I've used; not heeding
Feet full-oft bleeding
And heart that the world's sharp spear-head rends:
Now may I rest
On the night's dim breast
As at thy coming my pale chant ends.

V

Lo! thou appearest,
Apollo, and clearest
The heaven above thee with awful might:
The clouds before thee
Retreat—high o'er thee
Within thy tresses the sun flames bright:
And the seas thy footing
Follow with floating
Ripples of august golden light.

114

VI

Now let me, weary,
The black night dreary
Evade for ever, now thou art here:
My song is ended
Now, fierce, extended
Across the skies thy white steeds rear!
My song is over
Now thou, song's lover,
As gold-haired bridegroom dost appear.

VII

Take my pale singing:
Let some notes ringing
High upward, skyward, remain, abide:
But oh thy laughter
So sweet, comes after,
So silver-clear o'er the charmed sea-tide;
And what can singers
Of earth with fingers
Feeble fashion for song thy bride?

115

VIII

Is she too golden
Of locks, and holden
Within her hands is a harp-stem true?
Or black-haired rather,
Nereus her father,
Did she step forth from the sea-caves blue
With musical feet
Apollo to meet,—
With grey glance subtle, snow-white of hue?

IX

Yea, she was gracious
Within the spacious
Deep domes of singing beneath the waves;
And what can our song,
Our pale earth's flower-song
That twines with roses the grass of graves
Be to the tender
And soft-voiced splendour
Of white seas breaking in dim sea-caves?

116

X

While thou wast wedded,
Our groans have eddied
From lonely bosoms upon the breeze:
While thou wast toying
With thy bride, cloying
Thy soul with sweetness, we wooed not ease,
Pallid and crownless
And careworn, renownless,
Hopeless as arms of the storm-lashed trees!

XI

Therefore remember
With us December
Abides while summer, O gold-haired king,
Is with thee alway,
And thy bright hallway
With laughter of red lips laughs and may ring:
Alone not ever
Thou wast,—yea never
With lone lips hadst thou had heart to sing.

117

XII

So when thou flamest
In dawn and aimest
Thy final arrows at earth's last night,
Forget not those who
In pain arose,—who
Sang to thee, song-god, when nought was bright
Save only the endless
Love then thought friendless
Wherewith they longed for thee, longed for thy light.

Feb. 10, 1880.