 | A Summer Christmas and a Sonnet upon The S.S. "Ballaarat." |  |
The Dream.
He, standing by the landlock'd cove,
Built airy palaces of love,
And, leaning over, strove to peer
Beneath the starlit waters clear,
When suddenly arose a maid
Out of the depth, and, unafraid,
Swam near him, and in sweet, soft voice
Bade Harold welcome, and rejoice.
“At last,” she said, “my love, thou'rt come:
Thou hast been long away from home.”
He look'd at her, but could not tell
What maid it was that lov'd him well,
And said, “Who are you, sweet?” but she—
“Wilt thou renew thy cruelty,
Erst cruel Phaon? know'st thou not
Thy bride, thy Sappho? From my grot
Beneath the ocean oft have I
Gazed upward at the shore and sky
To see thee once again; and now
Thou'rt come. I pray thee, dear heart, vow
That thou wilt ne'er forsake me more
For idle dalliance on the shore,
But seek in love's unfailing arms
A shelter from the world's alarms,
And pillow'd on a white warm breast
Lull thine o'er-labour'd head to rest.”
Built airy palaces of love,
And, leaning over, strove to peer
Beneath the starlit waters clear,
When suddenly arose a maid
Out of the depth, and, unafraid,
Swam near him, and in sweet, soft voice
Bade Harold welcome, and rejoice.
“At last,” she said, “my love, thou'rt come:
Thou hast been long away from home.”
He look'd at her, but could not tell
What maid it was that lov'd him well,
And said, “Who are you, sweet?” but she—
“Wilt thou renew thy cruelty,
Erst cruel Phaon? know'st thou not
Thy bride, thy Sappho? From my grot
Beneath the ocean oft have I
Gazed upward at the shore and sky
To see thee once again; and now
Thou'rt come. I pray thee, dear heart, vow
That thou wilt ne'er forsake me more
For idle dalliance on the shore,
But seek in love's unfailing arms
A shelter from the world's alarms,
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Lull thine o'er-labour'd head to rest.”
He edg'd a step toward the cove,
Irresolute 'twixt life and love;
She swam a stroke toward the shore,
Pleading and beckoning the more,
And said, “I loved those wilful curls
As none among the Lesbian girls:
No maid in Mitylene'd prize
Gems, as I prized those glad brown eyes—
I, who the love of man defied,
Offered my beauty to your pride,
And you despised it; then I wail'd
And all my joy in living fail'd,
And oft I sought a lonely rock
That quiver'd with the billows' shock,
And bore my burthen to the breeze,
And sang my sorrows to the seas;
And last I plung'd, in hope to be
Reprieved by death from misery.
Irresolute 'twixt life and love;
She swam a stroke toward the shore,
Pleading and beckoning the more,
And said, “I loved those wilful curls
As none among the Lesbian girls:
No maid in Mitylene'd prize
Gems, as I prized those glad brown eyes—
I, who the love of man defied,
Offered my beauty to your pride,
And you despised it; then I wail'd
And all my joy in living fail'd,
And oft I sought a lonely rock
That quiver'd with the billows' shock,
And bore my burthen to the breeze,
And sang my sorrows to the seas;
And last I plung'd, in hope to be
Reprieved by death from misery.
“But the mermen pined for the love of me,
As I sang to the sea and sky;
And those who are loved by kings of the sea
May be drown'd, but cannot die.
As I sang to the sea and sky;
And those who are loved by kings of the sea
May be drown'd, but cannot die.
“Their kisses I loath'd, and I loath'd their love,
The more as they prov'd more true;
And all the day long I would rove and rove,
Watching and waiting for you.
The more as they prov'd more true;
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Watching and waiting for you.
“Then lay down your weary head in my arms,
And you shall a merman be,
And reign as a king in the careless calms
Of the fathomless sapphire sea.”
Harold.
And you shall a merman be,
And reign as a king in the careless calms
Of the fathomless sapphire sea.”
“But I have joys I cannot leave:
The glow of morning and of eve,
The glory of the noon;
The golden sun that shines on high,
The stars embroider'd on the sky,
The silver of the moon.”
Sappho.
“But the sun shines through the breast of the blue,
And moon-finger'd waves are fair,
And the stars we view reflected anew
On the gold of mermaid hair.”
Harold.
“But I have other joys than these:
The cliffs and mountains, and the breeze
That freshens round their tops;
The valleys with their kirtles green,
The uplands with their shoulders sheen
And coronal of copse.”
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“There are hills and valleys below the deep
Far fairer than any of earth;
And the winds of your mountains wake and sleep,
In the ocean that gives them birth.”
Harold.
“But I have fairy flow'rs that rise
Fresh from their winter obsequies
To decorate the spring;
And others of a later day
To grace the summer, and delay
The autumn's taking wing.”
Sappho.
“The sea-flowers are more glorious far,
And they never sleep or die;
Our anemones wear the shape of a star,
And hue of a sunset sky.”
Harold.
“And I have groves whose living shade
Is canopy and colonnade
Beneath an August sun;
Choice garden trees with fruitage fine,
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When August days are done.”
Sappho.
“And under the sea there are gardens sweet,
And coral groves red and white;
We know not the changes of cold and heat.
But love the sun for his light.”
Harold.
“The birds I love so fleet and fair
That glitter through the sunny air,
And warble in the dawn;
The insect-radiance of May,
Whose dotage closes with the day
That saw their brightness born.”
Sappho.
“We have beautiful shapes and tuneful shells
In our wondrous world below;
But the glories of ocean no one tells,
And none but the mermen know.”
Harold.
“But most of all I love to stand
On each grey castle of our land,
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Telling with scatter'd walls and scars
A rugged tale of great old wars
And warriors long asleep:
To muse on moss-hid arch and aisle
Of desecrate Cistercian pile
And fane of long ago;
To wander through a village street
Trod by a great man's childish feet
While yet his lot was low;
To gaze across a moor whereon
A famous victory was won
Or some stout hero fell;
And often have I fondly roved
Where two wild lovers met and lov'd,
Not wisely, but too well.”
Sappho.
“We have no castles in ruin revered,
No abbeys of long ago,
No villages where great men were rear'd
While yet their lot was low.
But we have some rare old battle-grounds
Where heroes were kill'd at bay,
And buried chiefs without burial mounds,
And trystings of lovers gay.
Then lay down your wearied head in my arms,
And you shall a merman be,
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Of the fathomless sapphire sea.”
Harold.
“But under the sea, love, under the sea,
What do you do for the clear blue sky?”
Sappho.
“O! the clear blue sea is a sky to me,
And our heaven is not too high.”
Then in he plung'd: she drew him down,
As sirens in the legend drown
The victims of their melody.
The waters gurgled in his ears,
He deem'd that he must die;
But Sappho sooth'd away his fears
With kisses wooingly.
Down, down they sank until they reach'd
A sapphire-vaulted cavern beach'd
With jet and shells of pearl; the walls
Were cataracts and waterfalls.
Here they abode full lovingly,
And smoothly the quick days sped by.
Sometimes he sits upon the rocks,
Upgathering her elfin locks;
Sometimes she sits upon his knee,
And sings him anthems of the sea;
Sometimes upon the sand he lies,
Gazing at sea-blue steadfast eyes
That concentrate on him;
And sometimes for an hour's space
He dallies with a fair, fond face
And body rounded slim.
She tells him legends of the deep,
And shows him where the mermen keep
Their fleet of founder'd ships,
And where their milliard army lies
Of skeletons with hollow eyes
And grinning jaws for lips.
But most of all she's used to tell
Of those old hours she lov'd so well,
The hours of Lesbian song;
To call back some sad roundelay,
That wiled away an elderday
Whereon he linger'd long;
To call back how it sooth'd to rove,
And tell the breezes of her love
And waters of her woes;
To whisper consummated bliss,
And seal her whisper with a kiss,
And sink in sweet repose.
As sirens in the legend drown
The victims of their melody.
The waters gurgled in his ears,
He deem'd that he must die;
But Sappho sooth'd away his fears
With kisses wooingly.
Down, down they sank until they reach'd
A sapphire-vaulted cavern beach'd
With jet and shells of pearl; the walls
Were cataracts and waterfalls.
Here they abode full lovingly,
And smoothly the quick days sped by.
Sometimes he sits upon the rocks,
Upgathering her elfin locks;
Sometimes she sits upon his knee,
And sings him anthems of the sea;
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Gazing at sea-blue steadfast eyes
That concentrate on him;
And sometimes for an hour's space
He dallies with a fair, fond face
And body rounded slim.
She tells him legends of the deep,
And shows him where the mermen keep
Their fleet of founder'd ships,
And where their milliard army lies
Of skeletons with hollow eyes
And grinning jaws for lips.
But most of all she's used to tell
Of those old hours she lov'd so well,
The hours of Lesbian song;
To call back some sad roundelay,
That wiled away an elderday
Whereon he linger'd long;
To call back how it sooth'd to rove,
And tell the breezes of her love
And waters of her woes;
To whisper consummated bliss,
And seal her whisper with a kiss,
And sink in sweet repose.
Thus sped they many a joyous day
In amorous and peaceful play,
Glad of a respite from the fears
Of eager and ambitious years.
But last it fell that Sappho's cheek
Grew hollow and her body weak:
He saw and griev'd until she broke
The silence, and the dull truth spoke:
“We have no souls, dear love,
For had we souls we could not live
Without the elements that give
The life they live above—
The daily drink, the daily fare,
The sweet and all-sustaining air.”
In amorous and peaceful play,
Glad of a respite from the fears
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But last it fell that Sappho's cheek
Grew hollow and her body weak:
He saw and griev'd until she broke
The silence, and the dull truth spoke:
“We have no souls, dear love,
For had we souls we could not live
Without the elements that give
The life they live above—
The daily drink, the daily fare,
The sweet and all-sustaining air.”
“What matter,” he cried, “though we have no soul
We shall live as long as the earth,
Without the millstone of care and control
Which hangs round the neck from birth.
We shall live as long as the earth,
Without the millstone of care and control
Which hangs round the neck from birth.
“We have all the wonders of deep and bay,
And the heaven is ours above,
As much as the mortals who toil all day
And have only the night for love.
And the heaven is ours above,
As much as the mortals who toil all day
And have only the night for love.
“And if no future in heaven be ours
When the earth is ended, we've this—
We can make a heaven of earthly hours,
And sweeten our end with a kiss.”
Sappho.
When the earth is ended, we've this—
We can make a heaven of earthly hours,
And sweeten our end with a kiss.”
“Though love is good and gracious ease,
Life is for nobler ends than these:
To build impregnably a name
And force unwilling grants from fame;
To gain great victories, and give
A wise example how to live;
To give your country liberty,
Or teach her patriots how to die;
To chronicle your finest thought
For generations to be taught;
With practice and with preaching win
A sinful people from their sin,
To point your tale and wing your song
As arrows against wrath and wrong.”
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To build impregnably a name
And force unwilling grants from fame;
To gain great victories, and give
A wise example how to live;
To give your country liberty,
Or teach her patriots how to die;
To chronicle your finest thought
For generations to be taught;
With practice and with preaching win
A sinful people from their sin,
To point your tale and wing your song
As arrows against wrath and wrong.”
Though he for love and ease was fain,
His nobler nature woke again:
“Teach me, my love,” he said, “once more
To win the souls we had before,
What toils attain, what pains restore.”
His nobler nature woke again:
“Teach me, my love,” he said, “once more
To win the souls we had before,
What toils attain, what pains restore.”
“It is writ in the Book of the Sea,” she saith,
“That a merman a soul may gain
Who snatches the life of a man from death
Or a maiden's love can attain.”
Then to the landlock'd cove they swam,
And when they to the inlet came
He saw a drowning maiden sink
In the clear depth beside the brink.
He seem'd to clasp her, as before,
And bear her breathing to the shore,
And, lo! the maid in his embrace
Wore Sappho's form and Sappho's face.
“That a merman a soul may gain
Who snatches the life of a man from death
Or a maiden's love can attain.”
Then to the landlock'd cove they swam,
And when they to the inlet came
He saw a drowning maiden sink
In the clear depth beside the brink.
He seem'd to clasp her, as before,
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And, lo! the maid in his embrace
Wore Sappho's form and Sappho's face.
The End of the Dream.
He woke: beside his pillow stoodMore perfect in her womanhood
The lady of his vision,
Her lips half parted for a smile
In sweetest indecision,
Whether to fly or bide the while
He ask'd of his position.
She stay'd: it needs no Chaldee seer
Or Arabic astrologer
To guess their conversation;
The meaning of the mystery
Needs no interpretation;
We leave the after-history
To your imagination.
The first time that they were alone
After this tale of his was done,
Lil questioned him if he were not
Himself the hero of the plot.
To which he answered, “No indeed
I am no hero, but I read
The kind of books I make him choose,
And like the same things as he does.”
After this tale of his was done,
Lil questioned him if he were not
Himself the hero of the plot.
To which he answered, “No indeed
I am no hero, but I read
The kind of books I make him choose,
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| A Summer Christmas and a Sonnet upon The S.S. "Ballaarat." | |