The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti A variorum edition: Edited, with textual notes and introductions, by R. W. Crump |
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WILL THESE HANDS NE'ER BE CLEAN? |
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 | The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti |  |
96
WILL THESE HANDS NE'ER BE CLEAN?
And who is this lies prostrate at thy feet?
And is he dead, thou man of wrath and pride?
Yes, now thy vengeance is complete,
Thy hate is satisfied.
What had he done to merit this of thee?
Who gave thee power to take away his life?
Oh deeply-rooted direful enmity
That ended in long strife!
See where he grasped thy mantle as he fell,
Staining it with his blood; how terrible
Must be the payment due for this in hell!
And is he dead, thou man of wrath and pride?
Yes, now thy vengeance is complete,
Thy hate is satisfied.
What had he done to merit this of thee?
Who gave thee power to take away his life?
Oh deeply-rooted direful enmity
That ended in long strife!
See where he grasped thy mantle as he fell,
Staining it with his blood; how terrible
Must be the payment due for this in hell!
And dost thou think to go and see no more
Thy bleeding victim, now the struggle's o'er?
To find out peace in other lands,
And wash the red mark from thy hands?
It shall not be; for everywhere
He shall be with thee; and the air
Shall smell of blood, and on the wind
His groans pursue thee close behind.
When waking he shall stand before thee;
And when at length sleep shall come o'er thee,
Powerless to move, alive to dream,
So dreadful shall thy visions seem
That thou shalt own them even to be
More hateful than reality
What time thou stoopest down to drink
Of limpid waters, thou shalt think
It is thy foe's blood bubbles up
From the polluted fountain's cup,
That stains thy lip, that cries to Heaven
For vengeance—and it shall be given.
Thy bleeding victim, now the struggle's o'er?
To find out peace in other lands,
And wash the red mark from thy hands?
It shall not be; for everywhere
He shall be with thee; and the air
Shall smell of blood, and on the wind
His groans pursue thee close behind.
When waking he shall stand before thee;
And when at length sleep shall come o'er thee,
Powerless to move, alive to dream,
So dreadful shall thy visions seem
That thou shalt own them even to be
More hateful than reality
What time thou stoopest down to drink
Of limpid waters, thou shalt think
It is thy foe's blood bubbles up
From the polluted fountain's cup,
That stains thy lip, that cries to Heaven
For vengeance—and it shall be given.
And when thy friends shall question thee,
“Why art thou changed so heavily?”
Trembling and fearful thou shalt say
“I am not changed,” and turn away;
For such an outcast shalt thou be
Thou wilt not dare ask sympathy.
“Why art thou changed so heavily?”
Trembling and fearful thou shalt say
“I am not changed,” and turn away;
97
Thou wilt not dare ask sympathy.
And so thy life will pass, and day by day
The current of existence flow away;
And though to thee earth shall be hell, and breath
Vengeance, yet thou shalt tremble more at death.
And one by one thy friends will learn to fear thee,
And thou shalt live without a hope to cheer thee;
Lonely amid a thousand, chained though free,
The curse of memory shall cling to thee:
Ages may pass away, worlds rise and set—
But thou shalt not forget.
The current of existence flow away;
And though to thee earth shall be hell, and breath
Vengeance, yet thou shalt tremble more at death.
And one by one thy friends will learn to fear thee,
And thou shalt live without a hope to cheer thee;
Lonely amid a thousand, chained though free,
The curse of memory shall cling to thee:
Ages may pass away, worlds rise and set—
But thou shalt not forget.
| The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti | |