The poems and prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough With a selection from his letters and a memoir: Edited by his wife: In two volumes: With a portrait |
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 | The poems and prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough |  |
Scene III.
—The Academy at Venice.Di.
A modern daub it was, perchance,
I know not: but the connoisseur
From Titian's hues, I dare be sure,
Had never turned one kindly glance,
I know not: but the connoisseur
From Titian's hues, I dare be sure,
Had never turned one kindly glance,
Where Byron, somewhat drest-up, draws
His sword, impatient long, and speaks
Unto a tribe of motley Greeks
His fealty to their good cause.
His sword, impatient long, and speaks
Unto a tribe of motley Greeks
His fealty to their good cause.
Not far, assumed to mystic bliss,
Behold the ecstatic Virgin rise!
Ah, wherefore vainly, to fond eyes
That melted into tears for this?
Behold the ecstatic Virgin rise!
Ah, wherefore vainly, to fond eyes
That melted into tears for this?
Yet if we must live, as would seem,
These peremptory heats to claim,
Ah, not for profit, not for fame,
And not for pleasure's giddy dream,
These peremptory heats to claim,
Ah, not for profit, not for fame,
And not for pleasure's giddy dream,
And not for piping empty reeds,
And not for colouring idle dust;
If live we positively must,
God's name be blest for noble deeds.
And not for colouring idle dust;
If live we positively must,
God's name be blest for noble deeds.
Verses! well, they are made, so let them go;
No more if I can help. This is one way
The procreant heat and fervour of our youth
Escapes, in puff, in smoke, and shapeless words
Of mere ejaculation, nothing worth,
Unless to make maturer years content
To slave in base compliance to the world.
No more if I can help. This is one way
The procreant heat and fervour of our youth
143
Of mere ejaculation, nothing worth,
Unless to make maturer years content
To slave in base compliance to the world.
I have scarce spoken yet to this strange follower
Whom I picked up—ye great gods, tell me where!
And when! for I remember such long years,
And yet he seems new come. I commune with myself;
He speaks, I hear him, and resume to myself;
Whate'er I think, he adds his comments to;
Which yet not interrupts me. Scarce I know
If ever once directly I addressed him:
Let me essay it now; for I have strength.
Yet what he wants, and what he fain would have,
Oh, I know all too surely; not in vain
Although unnoticed, has he dogged my ear.
Come, we'll be definite, explicit, plain;
I can resist, I know; and 'twill be well
For colloquy to have used this manlier mood,
Which is to last, ye chances say how long?
How shall I call him? Mephistophiles?
Whom I picked up—ye great gods, tell me where!
And when! for I remember such long years,
And yet he seems new come. I commune with myself;
He speaks, I hear him, and resume to myself;
Whate'er I think, he adds his comments to;
Which yet not interrupts me. Scarce I know
If ever once directly I addressed him:
Let me essay it now; for I have strength.
Yet what he wants, and what he fain would have,
Oh, I know all too surely; not in vain
Although unnoticed, has he dogged my ear.
Come, we'll be definite, explicit, plain;
I can resist, I know; and 'twill be well
For colloquy to have used this manlier mood,
Which is to last, ye chances say how long?
How shall I call him? Mephistophiles?
Sp.
I come, I come.
Di.
So quick, so eager; ha!
Like an eaves-dropping menial on my thought,
With something of an exultation too, methinks,
Out-peeping in that springy, jaunty gait.
I doubt about it. Shall I do it? Oh! oh!
Shame on me! come! Shall I, my follower,
Should I conceive (not that at all I do,
'Tis curiosity that prompts my speech)—
But should I form, a thing to be supposed,
144
Say what were your demands? what were your terms?
What should I do? what should I cease to do?
What incense on what altars must I burn?
And what abandon? what unlearn, or learn?
Religion goes, I take it.
Sp.
Oh,
You'll go to church of course, you know;
Or at the least will take a pew
To send your wife and servants to.
Trust me, I make a point of that;
No infidelity, that's flat.
Di.
Religion is not in a pew, say some;
Cucullus, you hold, facit monachum.
Sp.
Why, as to feelings of devotion,
I interdict all vague emotion;
But if you will, for once and all
Compound with ancient Juvenal—
Orandum est, one perfect prayer
For savoir-vivre and savoir-faire.
I interdict all vague emotion;
But if you will, for once and all
Compound with ancient Juvenal—
Orandum est, one perfect prayer
For savoir-vivre and savoir-faire.
Theology—don't recommend you,
Unless, turned lawyer, heaven should send you
In your profession's way a case
Of Baptism and prevenient grace;
But that's not likely. I'm inclined,
All circumstances borne in mind,
To think (to keep you in due borders)
You'd better enter holy orders.
Unless, turned lawyer, heaven should send you
In your profession's way a case
Of Baptism and prevenient grace;
But that's not likely. I'm inclined,
All circumstances borne in mind,
To think (to keep you in due borders)
You'd better enter holy orders.
Di.
On that, my friend, you'd better not insist.
145
Well, well, 'tis but a good thing miss'd.
The item's optional, no doubt;
But how to get you bread without?
You'll marry; I shall find the lady.
Make your proposal, and be steady.
Di.
Marry, ill spirit! and at your sole choice?
Sp.
De rigueur! can't give you a voice.
What matter? Oh, trust one who knows you,
You'll make an admirable sposo.
Di.
Enough. But action—look to that well, mind me;
See that some not unworthy work you find me;
If man I be, then give the man expression.
Sp.
Of course you'll enter a profession;
If not the Church, why then the Law.
By Jove, we'll teach you how to draw!
Besides, the best of the concern is
I'm hand and glove with the attorneys.
With them and me to help, don't doubt
But in due season you'll come out;
Leave Kelly, Cockburn, in the lurch.
But yet, do think about the Church.
Di.
'Tis well, ill spirit, I admire your wit;
As for your wisdom, I shall think of it.
And now farewell.
| The poems and prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough | |