 | Phantasmagoria |  |
To my Friend and Brother-Artist, Robert Harborough Sherard, Fraternally Dedicated.
FEB. 5th, 1887.
Dreamland.
Hast not sailed in dreams upon a mystic river
Through caverns, and through mountains, and through palaces?
Seen the sun-rays fall, the moon-beams quiver,
On the roofs of Tripolis and Fez:
Drifted far 'mid many a granite column,
Through the brazen gates, on waves that shone,
In the awful hush of moon-rise soft and solemn,
Into Babylon?
Through caverns, and through mountains, and through palaces?
Seen the sun-rays fall, the moon-beams quiver,
On the roofs of Tripolis and Fez:
Drifted far 'mid many a granite column,
Through the brazen gates, on waves that shone,
In the awful hush of moon-rise soft and solemn,
Into Babylon?
Or on waters black and turbid as the Stygian,
Ebon gloom 'mid many a square colossal shaft,
Carved with symbols of a huge religion,
Hideous gods that leer with hate and craft,
Close by porches vast and plinths Titanic,
On through many a black basaltic aisle,
Under monstrous halls and fanes Satanic,
On the awful Nile?
Ebon gloom 'mid many a square colossal shaft,
Carved with symbols of a huge religion,
Hideous gods that leer with hate and craft,
Close by porches vast and plinths Titanic,
On through many a black basaltic aisle,
Under monstrous halls and fanes Satanic,
On the awful Nile?
Or upon the Ganges, 'mid a thousand drifting
Lamps that shine and flicker in the windless air,
'Mid the lotus-leaves the faint waves lifting
Undulate and shake the flower-stalks bare,
Or in creeks and coves with leaves embowering,
In the shadow of the sheltered calm,
Seen the moon shine through the tufted, towering
Tamarisk, and palm?
Lamps that shine and flicker in the windless air,
'Mid the lotus-leaves the faint waves lifting
Undulate and shake the flower-stalks bare,
Or in creeks and coves with leaves embowering,
In the shadow of the sheltered calm,
Seen the moon shine through the tufted, towering
Tamarisk, and palm?
8
Or upon some magic stream, some tide enchanted,
Through rose-gardens in a mystic land unknown,
Flowering shrubberies scent and music haunted,
Piloted an ivory barque alone,
Snatching kisses through some open casement
From lips never seen in our cold world,
Standing tip-toe at a palace basement
On the silk sail furled?
Through rose-gardens in a mystic land unknown,
Flowering shrubberies scent and music haunted,
Piloted an ivory barque alone,
Snatching kisses through some open casement
From lips never seen in our cold world,
Standing tip-toe at a palace basement
On the silk sail furled?
Hast thou never strayed through China's mystic regions,
Lamplit gardens cool with waft of many a fan,
Seen their silken girls in silver legions,
Or the gorgeous ladies of Japan,
Heard the small feet patter, long robes sweeping,
Kissed the laughing lips, shocked as it seemed?—
Ah, thou hast not known the joys of sleeping,
Thou hast never dreamed!
Lamplit gardens cool with waft of many a fan,
Seen their silken girls in silver legions,
Or the gorgeous ladies of Japan,
Heard the small feet patter, long robes sweeping,
Kissed the laughing lips, shocked as it seemed?—
Ah, thou hast not known the joys of sleeping,
Thou hast never dreamed!
July 22nd, 1886.
9
A Dream of China.
The closing lines are suggested by a quotation from a Chinese poet in Gautier's Preface to the Poems of Baudelaire.
In the celestial empire of the Sun,
Beyond the Orient's fire entailéd gates,
Twixt morning twilight's curtain starry-spun
And even gloaming's woof of flame-fraught dun
Wherein she swathes her dusky-braided plaits,
On the extreme ocean's brink whose star-paved breast,
Ambiguous situate, is neither east nor west,
Beyond the Orient's fire entailéd gates,
Twixt morning twilight's curtain starry-spun
And even gloaming's woof of flame-fraught dun
Wherein she swathes her dusky-braided plaits,
On the extreme ocean's brink whose star-paved breast,
Ambiguous situate, is neither east nor west,
In China, touching either hemisphere,
An old-world tyrant built himself a home
Proportioned to men's hate of him and fear.
One over other, tier on soaring tier,
On spiral pillars slept each convex dome
Veneered with silver white and blue as glass.
The columns were of crystal and alternate brass.
An old-world tyrant built himself a home
Proportioned to men's hate of him and fear.
One over other, tier on soaring tier,
On spiral pillars slept each convex dome
Veneered with silver white and blue as glass.
The columns were of crystal and alternate brass.
All round, the terraced gardens, ridge on ridge,
Of vale, and plateau, and balustered bank,
Threw many a lofty-archéd gilt-railed bridge
Of airy structure poised from edge to edge
Of narrow runnel and broad lucid tank,
O'er clear blue waters fringed with foliage close
Of hoary silver and green-grey willow rows.
Of vale, and plateau, and balustered bank,
Threw many a lofty-archéd gilt-railed bridge
Of airy structure poised from edge to edge
Of narrow runnel and broad lucid tank,
O'er clear blue waters fringed with foliage close
Of hoary silver and green-grey willow rows.
10
Quaint flowers and gorgeous lined each measured walk,
Red and white lilies. Hispid cactus hung
Vermilion pendants, flag-like, from stiff stalk,
Ripe scarlet as a monarch's catafale.
Great luminous bells from tendrilled trellise swung;
Gold rods, and pistils bossed with knobs of gold
Lured the red moth his grainéd blazonries to fold.
Red and white lilies. Hispid cactus hung
Vermilion pendants, flag-like, from stiff stalk,
Ripe scarlet as a monarch's catafale.
Great luminous bells from tendrilled trellise swung;
Gold rods, and pistils bossed with knobs of gold
Lured the red moth his grainéd blazonries to fold.
There his deep-damasked body's fulvous fur,
His blazing heraldries of stripe and streak
And scroll, and crescent, and starry-spikéd spur,
On his encrimsoned pennon lightly astir,
His breast of tufted velvet rich and sleek
With satin sheen, and down, and powdery gloss,
Flame like a silken ensign purfled with gold floss.
His blazing heraldries of stripe and streak
And scroll, and crescent, and starry-spikéd spur,
On his encrimsoned pennon lightly astir,
His breast of tufted velvet rich and sleek
With satin sheen, and down, and powdery gloss,
Flame like a silken ensign purfled with gold floss.
And there the peacock spreads his starlight fan
Shot green and blue, with eyes of burning gold,
Medallioned art profuse too rich for man,
Lavish with stars like clear Aldebaran,
Luxurious plumage. Sumptuously stoled,
His bosom mailed in metal of cyanite,
He trails his train of stars, and shrieks his fierce delight.
Shot green and blue, with eyes of burning gold,
Medallioned art profuse too rich for man,
Lavish with stars like clear Aldebaran,
Luxurious plumage. Sumptuously stoled,
His bosom mailed in metal of cyanite,
He trails his train of stars, and shrieks his fierce delight.
There in small garden-bowers (pagoda-shape)
Tinselled with golden foil, white maid and queen,
That robes of shifting shimmering satin drape,
Or tawny tusser, or creamy rose of crape,
With paper fan, beside a fretted screen,
From lucent porcelain sip the amber tea
At tables of mosaic sandal and ivory.
Tinselled with golden foil, white maid and queen,
That robes of shifting shimmering satin drape,
Or tawny tusser, or creamy rose of crape,
With paper fan, beside a fretted screen,
From lucent porcelain sip the amber tea
At tables of mosaic sandal and ivory.
11
Their tiny feet in gilded shoon are cased,
Twisted and curled; their wrought elaborate hair
Is dressed with diamond butterflies, and laced
With artificial flowers metal-faced,
Rattling and stiff, with petals broad that glare
Gold, copper, glazéd red, or burning blue,
And many a glinting strange and iridescent hue,
Twisted and curled; their wrought elaborate hair
Is dressed with diamond butterflies, and laced
With artificial flowers metal-faced,
Rattling and stiff, with petals broad that glare
Gold, copper, glazéd red, or burning blue,
And many a glinting strange and iridescent hue,
Their almond eyes glint amorously: their white teeth
Flash wicked smiles between rose-coloured lips
Stained with the juice of wondrous herbs: beneath
Their languorous lids are blue like a flower sheath,
And henna yellows their curled finger tips.
They laugh, and chatter, and sing a strange soft song,
Whipping their ivory tops with golden-twisted thong.
Flash wicked smiles between rose-coloured lips
Stained with the juice of wondrous herbs: beneath
Their languorous lids are blue like a flower sheath,
And henna yellows their curled finger tips.
They laugh, and chatter, and sing a strange soft song,
Whipping their ivory tops with golden-twisted thong.
The gates are two vast polished ivory leaves
Thronged with strange figures, clear-carved, deep-embossed,
A tissue such as piled-up tempest weaves
Out of white clouds,—warriors with swords and greaves,
Square-sailéd ships on swollen waters tossed,
Islands and gardens crowned with palaces,
Dragons, and fiends, and gods, and hideous prodigies.
Thronged with strange figures, clear-carved, deep-embossed,
A tissue such as piled-up tempest weaves
Out of white clouds,—warriors with swords and greaves,
Square-sailéd ships on swollen waters tossed,
Islands and gardens crowned with palaces,
Dragons, and fiends, and gods, and hideous prodigies.
Within, the hall would make our dull eyes ache,
For all the sides, as with rich Arras, swathed
In yellow banners, blazed with a white snake,
Threw lurid light in one broad liquid lake;
And all the tessellated floor was bathed
With yellow glory, poured in a rich flood,
Like flower-juice, on the cushioned couches red as blood.
For all the sides, as with rich Arras, swathed
In yellow banners, blazed with a white snake,
Threw lurid light in one broad liquid lake;
And all the tessellated floor was bathed
With yellow glory, poured in a rich flood,
Like flower-juice, on the cushioned couches red as blood.
12
And all the palace like an almond-grove
Was filled with perfume. Stunted orange trees
In gaudy vases, in each warm alcove,
Exhaling fumes of languorous odour, throve,
And other scents came in upon the breeze
From the sweet gardens, smells of spice trees rare,
And flowering shrubs entrailed that bloom in tropic air.
Was filled with perfume. Stunted orange trees
In gaudy vases, in each warm alcove,
Exhaling fumes of languorous odour, throve,
And other scents came in upon the breeze
From the sweet gardens, smells of spice trees rare,
And flowering shrubs entrailed that bloom in tropic air.
There at a great chess-table, rose and white,
Sits many a grave and blue-robed mandarin,
Moving the carven pieces left and right.
Others, serene, absorbed in still delight
Of lofty contemplation heard within,—
Ecstatic visions,—fill their small glass bowls
Pensively with narcotic nectar of the ghouls.
Sits many a grave and blue-robed mandarin,
Moving the carven pieces left and right.
Others, serene, absorbed in still delight
Of lofty contemplation heard within,—
Ecstatic visions,—fill their small glass bowls
Pensively with narcotic nectar of the ghouls.
But most at midnight is that palace fair
When all is hushed through every chamber dim,
Hushed all the voices on the silent stair,
And in the terraced garden: when the air
Seems with the sense of passion sweet to swim,
And the sole sound, if any sound there be,
Is of a silvery kiss or of a turning key.
When all is hushed through every chamber dim,
Hushed all the voices on the silent stair,
And in the terraced garden: when the air
Seems with the sense of passion sweet to swim,
And the sole sound, if any sound there be,
Is of a silvery kiss or of a turning key.
Then, when the nightingale is all aswoon,
Soft down some snowy marble corridor
Flooded with sheening radiance of the moon,
With the soft sighing of a silken tune,
The Empress, issuing on the beam-blanched floor,
Sweeps, with faint rustle and tints of shifting grain,
The silvery shadowy plaits of her white satin train.
Soft down some snowy marble corridor
Flooded with sheening radiance of the moon,
With the soft sighing of a silken tune,
The Empress, issuing on the beam-blanched floor,
Sweeps, with faint rustle and tints of shifting grain,
The silvery shadowy plaits of her white satin train.
Aug. 14th. 1886.
13
Dream Music.
Lying awake at night I sometimes hear a pealing
As of monstrous organs booming far away,
Bursts of spheric music vaguely stealing
'Mong the stars, and clouds, and waves at play;
Surging upward in a grand victorious
Triumph, ebbing in a silver stream,
Softly, softly soars and sinks the glorious
Music of a dream.
As of monstrous organs booming far away,
Bursts of spheric music vaguely stealing
'Mong the stars, and clouds, and waves at play;
Surging upward in a grand victorious
Triumph, ebbing in a silver stream,
Softly, softly soars and sinks the glorious
Music of a dream.
Then anon in lisping soft orchestral numbers
Comes the thrill of many a pleading violin,
Pulsing amorously through my slumbers,
Gittern, harp, and lute, and mandolin,
Kissing all the sense with soft insistance
Steals the spirit with a kiss of peace,
As love's wild entreaties whelm resistance,
Charms cold fear to cease.
Comes the thrill of many a pleading violin,
Pulsing amorously through my slumbers,
Gittern, harp, and lute, and mandolin,
Kissing all the sense with soft insistance
Steals the spirit with a kiss of peace,
As love's wild entreaties whelm resistance,
Charms cold fear to cease.
With the chequered moonlight through the window sprinkling
Silver notes with silver rays, they sweetly fall
In my ear with drowsy magic tinkling,
Like young spirits' voices keen and small:
Meanwhile through their pauses, flute-like, mellow,
On the voices of the shifting gale,
I, love-tossed upon my restless pillow,
Hear the nightingale.
Silver notes with silver rays, they sweetly fall
In my ear with drowsy magic tinkling,
Like young spirits' voices keen and small:
Meanwhile through their pauses, flute-like, mellow,
On the voices of the shifting gale,
I, love-tossed upon my restless pillow,
Hear the nightingale.
14
Still the mystic music soars and sinks and lingers,
Hovering in the chamber, tremulous in the air,
As if flung from angels' moving fingers
From live lute-strings in the turret stair,
Sweeping through the house from roof to basement,
Stealing faintly down the corridor,
Oozing through the closed and barred-up casement,
Entering the door.
Hovering in the chamber, tremulous in the air,
As if flung from angels' moving fingers
From live lute-strings in the turret stair,
Sweeping through the house from roof to basement,
Stealing faintly down the corridor,
Oozing through the closed and barred-up casement,
Entering the door.
Rolling to and fro with rhythmic undulations,
Coming in quick gusts and pants of passionate breath,
Penetrating me with keen vibrations,
Vivid as the final pang of death,
Only sweet as love's delicious languor,
Filling heart and breast with fiery swoon,
Grief, desire, and agony, and anger,
'Neath the mystic moon.
Coming in quick gusts and pants of passionate breath,
Penetrating me with keen vibrations,
Vivid as the final pang of death,
Only sweet as love's delicious languor,
Filling heart and breast with fiery swoon,
Grief, desire, and agony, and anger,
'Neath the mystic moon.
What is it that thrills me? What is it that bears me
All alone o'er seas to an enchanted isle,
Where a fairy lady softly snares me
In her amber hairs and in her smile,
Swathes me in white arms and threads all golden,
In the network of a silken spell,
To her white warm bosom closely holden.
In a pearly shell?
All alone o'er seas to an enchanted isle,
Where a fairy lady softly snares me
In her amber hairs and in her smile,
Swathes me in white arms and threads all golden,
In the network of a silken spell,
To her white warm bosom closely holden.
In a pearly shell?
Beams of sunlight, as through sea-waves green, come shattered
Through the fair frail mother o'pearl prismatic walls,
And a shower of brilliant rainbows scattered
O'er her limbs and glorious tresses falls,
Flecks with blots of red her marble bosom,
Bars with streaks of green each pale white limb,
As the ruinous leaves of scarlet blossom
Rained on waters dim.
Through the fair frail mother o'pearl prismatic walls,
And a shower of brilliant rainbows scattered
O'er her limbs and glorious tresses falls,
Flecks with blots of red her marble bosom,
Bars with streaks of green each pale white limb,
As the ruinous leaves of scarlet blossom
Rained on waters dim.
15
She is Morgan, she is Vivian, she is Venus,
And I lie bewitched, asleep in her rich grot;
Sighs and soft caresses pass between us,
Her lips coral kisses weary not,
For upon the opal pavement boiling
An enchanted potion bubbles up,
Red wine, mad as wildfire, burning, broiling
In a diamond cup.
And I lie bewitched, asleep in her rich grot;
Sighs and soft caresses pass between us,
Her lips coral kisses weary not,
For upon the opal pavement boiling
An enchanted potion bubbles up,
Red wine, mad as wildfire, burning, broiling
In a diamond cup.
Thin the cup, but hewn from rocks of solid jewel,
Lucent as a crystal, thinner than a shell,
And the liquor's flame is love's own fuel
Drawn directly from his fiery well;
From the lips, with languid dreams in legion,
It flies upward straight into the brain,
Flooding all its gold and glorious region
With delicious pain.
Lucent as a crystal, thinner than a shell,
And the liquor's flame is love's own fuel
Drawn directly from his fiery well;
From the lips, with languid dreams in legion,
It flies upward straight into the brain,
Flooding all its gold and glorious region
With delicious pain.
Then away, the shell is swept, and whirled, and lifted
Far upon a moving ocean's breast afloat,
On the changing tides and currents drifted,
Rocking, late a grotto now a boat.
Past the arching fan-shaped stern back-gazing,
O'er the waters' undulating calm,
I can see the magic isle fast hazing
With its feathery palm.
Far upon a moving ocean's breast afloat,
On the changing tides and currents drifted,
Rocking, late a grotto now a boat.
Past the arching fan-shaped stern back-gazing,
O'er the waters' undulating calm,
I can see the magic isle fast hazing
With its feathery palm.
Swallowed up in ruddy wastes of twilight, duller
Grow the tufted trees, a pale phantasmal show,
Ghostly shapes evanished in a mist of colour,
Soft absorbed into the crimson glow,
Glow of washing waves and sky flame-kindling
With eve's wild white star upon its breast,
A fast-melting vision, a dream dwindling
In the golden west.
Grow the tufted trees, a pale phantasmal show,
Ghostly shapes evanished in a mist of colour,
Soft absorbed into the crimson glow,
Glow of washing waves and sky flame-kindling
With eve's wild white star upon its breast,
A fast-melting vision, a dream dwindling
In the golden west.
16
Then below the keel the ripples gurgle sweetly,
Plash, and break, and sigh with silken rustling sound;
And the fine prow cuts the waters fleetly,
Running over many a purple sound,
Up cool creeks and coves on waves melodious,
Winding inlets to new magic lands,
Paved with glittering gravel, cool, commodious,
Banked will silver sands.
Plash, and break, and sigh with silken rustling sound;
And the fine prow cuts the waters fleetly,
Running over many a purple sound,
Up cool creeks and coves on waves melodious,
Winding inlets to new magic lands,
Paved with glittering gravel, cool, commodious,
Banked will silver sands.
There a palace tall of tower, and spire, and steeple,
Soaring to the stars with terrace, dome, and roof
Waits us, thronged with fair enchanted people
Clad in gold and silver, tissue and woof;
There 'neath lofty walls that shine upstanding
O'er our head with tiers of jewels rare,
We glide onward to a marble landing
With a crystal stair.
Soaring to the stars with terrace, dome, and roof
Waits us, thronged with fair enchanted people
Clad in gold and silver, tissue and woof;
There 'neath lofty walls that shine upstanding
O'er our head with tiers of jewels rare,
We glide onward to a marble landing
With a crystal stair.
Far into the heart of that unmeasured mansion
Labyrinthine with its aisles of gold and brass,
Wonderstruck by infinite expansion
We sail on by smooth canals of glass,
Till we reach that stair, and stay the galley,
And endless rows of mailéd guards between,
Upward, on, through many a flaming alley
Pass, a king and queen.
Labyrinthine with its aisles of gold and brass,
Wonderstruck by infinite expansion
We sail on by smooth canals of glass,
Till we reach that stair, and stay the galley,
And endless rows of mailéd guards between,
Upward, on, through many a flaming alley
Pass, a king and queen.
There the hall is thronged with forms, and hung with banners
Sweeping with silk fringe our hair beneath the door,
Lofty windows as of faëry manors
Stain with gorgeous beams the walls and floor.
All aflame with blue and rich vermilion
Shakes the air, a fire-impregnate zone.
There they seat us 'neath a starred pavilion
On a purple throne.
Sweeping with silk fringe our hair beneath the door,
Lofty windows as of faëry manors
Stain with gorgeous beams the walls and floor.
All aflame with blue and rich vermilion
Shakes the air, a fire-impregnate zone.
There they seat us 'neath a starred pavilion
On a purple throne.
Aug. 7th, 1886.
17
Love.
A pain at stars beyond our reach
Is love, a sorrow at soaring wings,
A sadness on the ocean beach,
And in lone moonlight, thoughts that stretch
To all illimitable things,
Vast visions, and vague whisperings.
His stammering elemental speech
Love sighs, and sobs, and sings.
Is love, a sorrow at soaring wings,
A sadness on the ocean beach,
And in lone moonlight, thoughts that stretch
To all illimitable things,
Vast visions, and vague whisperings.
His stammering elemental speech
Love sighs, and sobs, and sings.
The mystery of the plenilune;
The melody of purple peaks;
The dim sea glittering at night's noon,
Broad, boundless, vague with mist and moon;
The language the pine forest speaks;
The soul that, swathed in music, seeks
Into eternity to swoon;
The sunset's golden streaks.
The melody of purple peaks;
The dim sea glittering at night's noon,
Broad, boundless, vague with mist and moon;
The language the pine forest speaks;
The soul that, swathed in music, seeks
Into eternity to swoon;
The sunset's golden streaks.
Eve lends him magic realms to stray,
Gold isles in stretches of green seas,
Enchanted shores that reach away
Far into realms of dazzling day:
Love longs to fly and mix with these,
Beyond the stars to be at ease,
To fade in moonlight green or gray,
To melt into a breeze.
Gold isles in stretches of green seas,
Enchanted shores that reach away
Far into realms of dazzling day:
Love longs to fly and mix with these,
Beyond the stars to be at ease,
To fade in moonlight green or gray,
To melt into a breeze.
18
Affection stoops, and passion mars:
Love pines, love worships, love aspires,
Forgets the earth and sees the stars,
The spangled pole, the twilight-bars,
With head thrown back and high desires,
A mystic proud, whose words are fires
Charioted abroad in meteor-cars
And heralded with lyres.
Love pines, love worships, love aspires,
Forgets the earth and sees the stars,
The spangled pole, the twilight-bars,
With head thrown back and high desires,
A mystic proud, whose words are fires
Charioted abroad in meteor-cars
And heralded with lyres.
Love is the mist that from the wave
Exhales to heaven, the dews that creep
Up to the blossoms from the grave,
The spray of waterfalls that lave
Oerhanging fern high up the steep,
The tears that clouds through rain-bows weep,
Dissolving songs that soar and crave,
The dreams of a sweet sleep.
Exhales to heaven, the dews that creep
Up to the blossoms from the grave,
The spray of waterfalls that lave
Oerhanging fern high up the steep,
The tears that clouds through rain-bows weep,
Dissolving songs that soar and crave,
The dreams of a sweet sleep.
Love is a breaking wave that flings
Its life to the warm wind it adores;
The soft desire of yearning strings;
Love is the melody that wings
Its burning flight to starry shores;
A prayer that beats the sunset doors;
Love is a nightingale that sings
An eagle plumed that soars.
Its life to the warm wind it adores;
The soft desire of yearning strings;
Love is the melody that wings
Its burning flight to starry shores;
A prayer that beats the sunset doors;
Love is a nightingale that sings
An eagle plumed that soars.
Nay liker to lost memories
Of life before the womb was riven,
A child from some serener skies
Cast on our world with piteous cries,
A meteor fal'n to earth at even,
An erring joy from Eden driven,
A seraph dropt from Paradise,
A soul remembering heaven.
Of life before the womb was riven,
A child from some serener skies
Cast on our world with piteous cries,
A meteor fal'n to earth at even,
An erring joy from Eden driven,
A seraph dropt from Paradise,
A soul remembering heaven.
19
Love touching but the finger-tips
Thrills with electric flame all through;
Earth, sea, and sky endure eclipse
At one keen pang of meeting lips:
Brain reels, limbs totter, cheeks change hue,
Touched as by sudden venomous dew;
From fainting feet the firm soil slips,
The skies fade out of view.
Thrills with electric flame all through;
Earth, sea, and sky endure eclipse
At one keen pang of meeting lips:
Brain reels, limbs totter, cheeks change hue,
Touched as by sudden venomous dew;
From fainting feet the firm soil slips,
The skies fade out of view.
At one touch of a sweeping gown,
At one glance lightened from the soul,
Love's breast is like a 'leaguered town,
When panic throngs rush up and down,
When bugles blare, drums throb and roll,
Alarums clang and death-bells toll,
Shells burst, the air burns red and brown,
Eyes dazzle, ears grow dull,
At one glance lightened from the soul,
Love's breast is like a 'leaguered town,
When panic throngs rush up and down,
When bugles blare, drums throb and roll,
Alarums clang and death-bells toll,
Shells burst, the air burns red and brown,
Eyes dazzle, ears grow dull,
Whilst, loud above the storm and throng
Of rushing blood and pulsing vein,
The heart, like thousand hammers swung,
Beats out its warlike anvil-song,
And answering sounds ring in the brain
With maddening tumult and fierce pain,
Forging with measured strokes and strong
Swords wherewith men are slain,
Of rushing blood and pulsing vein,
The heart, like thousand hammers swung,
Beats out its warlike anvil-song,
And answering sounds ring in the brain
With maddening tumult and fierce pain,
Forging with measured strokes and strong
Swords wherewith men are slain,
Swords that like pangs of piercing steel
Traverse the breast through plates of scorn,
Whose scars deceitful, that soon heal,
After long years we, startled, feel
Ache at some tune, some perfume, borne
In the vague twilight or dim morn,
Or bleed re-opened like a seal
By some rude finger torn.
Traverse the breast through plates of scorn,
Whose scars deceitful, that soon heal,
After long years we, startled, feel
Ache at some tune, some perfume, borne
In the vague twilight or dim morn,
Or bleed re-opened like a seal
By some rude finger torn.
20
Love is a living burning flame,
Subtle at first, with searching heat
Consuming chastity, sapping shame
With the soft music of a name,
Then hurrying on with lightning feet,
A conflagration fierce and fleet,
O'erwhelms, destroys, devours,—like fame,
A madness blind and sweet.
Subtle at first, with searching heat
Consuming chastity, sapping shame
With the soft music of a name,
Then hurrying on with lightning feet,
A conflagration fierce and fleet,
O'erwhelms, destroys, devours,—like fame,
A madness blind and sweet.
Aug. 12th. 1886.
21
The Two Rivers.
Far amid the rainbow-tinted mountains,
In the hollow of a blue ravine,
From a grot of jasper two bright fountains
Gush into a basin beryl-green.
From a Dragon's mouth, in jets of amber,
Issues forth the moonlight-coloured flood.
All about bright passion-blossoms clamber,
Curling, red as blood.
In the hollow of a blue ravine,
From a grot of jasper two bright fountains
Gush into a basin beryl-green.
From a Dragon's mouth, in jets of amber,
Issues forth the moonlight-coloured flood.
All about bright passion-blossoms clamber,
Curling, red as blood.
One is lucent as a tawny jewel,
One is turbid as with dust of gold,
But the light of both is keen and cruel
As of wine-waves in a goblet rolled,
When the gold shines through, and o'er it shiver
Foamy bells of froth that meet in strife—
Such are Love's insatiable river,
And the well of Life.
One is turbid as with dust of gold,
But the light of both is keen and cruel
As of wine-waves in a goblet rolled,
When the gold shines through, and o'er it shiver
Foamy bells of froth that meet in strife—
Such are Love's insatiable river,
And the well of Life.
He who, faint and sore of foot with climbing,
On that vale emerges, blind with tears,
Marvels at the sweetness of the chiming
Of the waters' music in his ears.
Eagerly he stoops across the verges
Of the beryl basin, prone to drain
All the sweetness of the mineral surges
Maddening to the brain.
On that vale emerges, blind with tears,
Marvels at the sweetness of the chiming
Of the waters' music in his ears.
Eagerly he stoops across the verges
Of the beryl basin, prone to drain
All the sweetness of the mineral surges
Maddening to the brain.
22
Then his heart, that long had learnt to languish
In a dull contentment, catches first
The divine intolerable anguish
Of the love of living, and the thirst.
Never shall he fill his breast with foison,
Ne'er be sated, till he find with years
That the one jet bubbles up with poison
And the other tears.
In a dull contentment, catches first
The divine intolerable anguish
Of the love of living, and the thirst.
Never shall he fill his breast with foison,
Ne'er be sated, till he find with years
That the one jet bubbles up with poison
And the other tears.
Feb. 9th 1886.
23
A Vision of Vengeance.
Once in a dream I heard
A voice that stirred
Like far-off thunder, or the rolling drum.
It said, arise and see
Man's misery,
The bond-slave's long forbearance, meek and dumb,
The lord's oppression. Then I said, “I come.”
A voice that stirred
Like far-off thunder, or the rolling drum.
It said, arise and see
Man's misery,
The bond-slave's long forbearance, meek and dumb,
The lord's oppression. Then I said, “I come.”
And I arose, and lo!
In the red glow
Twixt set of sun and moon-rise, I could see
A blazing citadel,
Like towers of hell,
With bastioned keep, and spires of porphyry,
That soared into the sunset's crimson sea.
In the red glow
Twixt set of sun and moon-rise, I could see
A blazing citadel,
Like towers of hell,
With bastioned keep, and spires of porphyry,
That soared into the sunset's crimson sea.
Pointels and vanes of gold,
And manifold
Gay banners flamed on every roof and spire.
All of transparent hue
Glowed through and through,
Steeples, and towers like metals that suspire,
And molten domes of deepening red-hot fire.
And manifold
Gay banners flamed on every roof and spire.
All of transparent hue
Glowed through and through,
Steeples, and towers like metals that suspire,
And molten domes of deepening red-hot fire.
24
Under those coppery skies
Long galleries,
And fiery terraces, and corridors,
Pillared on either side,
Stretched far and wide,
And marble temples oped with brazen doors
Upon a glistering river's lurid shores.
Long galleries,
And fiery terraces, and corridors,
Pillared on either side,
Stretched far and wide,
And marble temples oped with brazen doors
Upon a glistering river's lurid shores.
And spirits about that town
Went up and down
Each swathed, as 'twere, in a pale cloud of pain,
Some scored with seam and gash;
Some bore the lash:
Some lips were sad, some curled with proud disdain,
But all shed tears of blood thicker than rain.
Went up and down
Each swathed, as 'twere, in a pale cloud of pain,
Some scored with seam and gash;
Some bore the lash:
Some lips were sad, some curled with proud disdain,
But all shed tears of blood thicker than rain.
And spectral women there,
With braided hair,
Went up and down, and sold their feverish lips,
Which many with strange thirst
Tasted, and cursed:
And maniacs, wild-eyed as the moon's eclipse,
Wandered adrift like conflagrated ships.
With braided hair,
Went up and down, and sold their feverish lips,
Which many with strange thirst
Tasted, and cursed:
And maniacs, wild-eyed as the moon's eclipse,
Wandered adrift like conflagrated ships.
And forms, fleet as the wind,
Went famine-pined,
Shaking wild tresses on the fiery air;
Or where the arches wide
Spanned the smooth tide.
Plunged in the red wave with a sudden glare,
As hell had oped beneath to gulf them there.
Went famine-pined,
Shaking wild tresses on the fiery air;
Or where the arches wide
Spanned the smooth tide.
Plunged in the red wave with a sudden glare,
As hell had oped beneath to gulf them there.
25
Then of day's fiery shroud
The fieriest cloud,
Pregnant with sulphur, that hung in the west,
Silently I saw sail
Upon the gale,
As a ship sails to battle, while repressed
It sternly holds the flame-bolt in its breast.
The fieriest cloud,
Pregnant with sulphur, that hung in the west,
Silently I saw sail
Upon the gale,
As a ship sails to battle, while repressed
It sternly holds the flame-bolt in its breast.
Slowly it sailed, and came,
A sheet of flame,
High o'er that city's topmost column-peak,—
The town lay still as Death:
I held my breath:
The blood-red deluge fell. Without a shriek
The town was cleansed of all that made it reek.
A sheet of flame,
High o'er that city's topmost column-peak,—
The town lay still as Death:
I held my breath:
The blood-red deluge fell. Without a shriek
The town was cleansed of all that made it reek.
Then changed those furial gleams
To mild moon-beams,
And in that city, late those demons' lair,
Angels went to and fro,
And long and low
Their voices chanted in the clear green air,
Lit by the iris of their rainbow hair.
To mild moon-beams,
And in that city, late those demons' lair,
Angels went to and fro,
And long and low
Their voices chanted in the clear green air,
Lit by the iris of their rainbow hair.
April, 1886.
26
The Memphian Temple.
By the yellow Nile a temple of black marble,
Swart colossal columns on the fulvous Nile!
In the precinct palm-trees grow, and wild birds warble;
'Neath the gate-way basks the crocodile;
In the vista stalks the ibis flaunting
Feathers black and white;
From the shrine come songs of wild priests haunting
All the night.
Swart colossal columns on the fulvous Nile!
In the precinct palm-trees grow, and wild birds warble;
'Neath the gate-way basks the crocodile;
In the vista stalks the ibis flaunting
Feathers black and white;
From the shrine come songs of wild priests haunting
All the night.
Mystery, Memphian gloom. The vast hawk-sphinxes slumber
Either side the portal, where, white-robed, the dark
Votaries, in procession, endless, without number,
Bear the sacred beetle in the ark,
To the waters of the sacred river,
Chanting in a row,
In the hoof-prints of the gold-horned heifer
As they go.
Either side the portal, where, white-robed, the dark
Votaries, in procession, endless, without number,
Bear the sacred beetle in the ark,
To the waters of the sacred river,
Chanting in a row,
In the hoof-prints of the gold-horned heifer
As they go.
May 31st 1885.
27
The Alhambra.
In an Andalusian vale
Clothed in moonlight blue and pale,
From the hill-top looking down
Travellers see a golden town,
Moslem mosque and minaret,
That tiers of Moorish arches fret,
Frost-like work of carvèd spires
Touched at top with silver fires;
Purple half-globes of rich domes;
Courts where the sultana roams,
Where the notes of gitterns ring
Tinkling while the almai sing,
Drum and timbrel as in trance
Sounding while the almai dance;
Gravelled close and garden-square,
Where scented fountains drench the air,
Fountains sprinkled by the breeze,
Planted round with orange-trees;
Where palm-tops rise feathery o'er
Cypress tall and sycamore;
And, when opes the gold hareem
Like the vistas of a dream,
Where, in many a marble tank
And fountain basin, with white flank,
Naked in the moonlight frisk
Concubine and odalisc.—
There by carven ivory screens
Eunuchs tire their gorgeous queens,
White Circassians snowy-limbed
In rich golden broideries trimmed,
Or like sculptured marble blocks
Swathed but in their flowing locks;
Queens by Ethiopian slaves
Bathed in silvery fountain-waves.
There Venetian amber hair
Glimmers in the twilight air,
Mixed with many an ebon tress
Of young captive negresses
Tinged with iridescent glooms,
Purple-black like ravens' plumes,—
On white necks of perfect mould
Flaxen swaths, and swaths of gold,
Auburn curl and umber spread,
Russet and the rich wine-red.
Seated too on cushions rare
Of green silk, embroidered fair,
Picking ripe pomegranate seed,
Inhaling fumes of opiate weed,
(Clustering grapes in purple pride
Dusky-blooming at their side,
On their knee the lute unstrung
From the snowy shoulder slung,
Or the plaintive-voiced guitar
That makes with many a soothing bar
Of some long-remembered stave
The queen forgets she is a slave,)
Maidens gaze in dreamful swoon
From the casement at the moon,
Murmuring voices sing and sigh
In the pillared balcony.—
Clothed in moonlight blue and pale,
From the hill-top looking down
Travellers see a golden town,
Moslem mosque and minaret,
That tiers of Moorish arches fret,
Frost-like work of carvèd spires
Touched at top with silver fires;
Purple half-globes of rich domes;
Courts where the sultana roams,
Where the notes of gitterns ring
Tinkling while the almai sing,
Drum and timbrel as in trance
Sounding while the almai dance;
Gravelled close and garden-square,
Where scented fountains drench the air,
Fountains sprinkled by the breeze,
Planted round with orange-trees;
Where palm-tops rise feathery o'er
Cypress tall and sycamore;
28
Like the vistas of a dream,
Where, in many a marble tank
And fountain basin, with white flank,
Naked in the moonlight frisk
Concubine and odalisc.—
There by carven ivory screens
Eunuchs tire their gorgeous queens,
White Circassians snowy-limbed
In rich golden broideries trimmed,
Or like sculptured marble blocks
Swathed but in their flowing locks;
Queens by Ethiopian slaves
Bathed in silvery fountain-waves.
There Venetian amber hair
Glimmers in the twilight air,
Mixed with many an ebon tress
Of young captive negresses
Tinged with iridescent glooms,
Purple-black like ravens' plumes,—
On white necks of perfect mould
Flaxen swaths, and swaths of gold,
Auburn curl and umber spread,
Russet and the rich wine-red.
Seated too on cushions rare
Of green silk, embroidered fair,
29
Inhaling fumes of opiate weed,
(Clustering grapes in purple pride
Dusky-blooming at their side,
On their knee the lute unstrung
From the snowy shoulder slung,
Or the plaintive-voiced guitar
That makes with many a soothing bar
Of some long-remembered stave
The queen forgets she is a slave,)
Maidens gaze in dreamful swoon
From the casement at the moon,
Murmuring voices sing and sigh
In the pillared balcony.—
He who draws more near the gate
Sees upon its brazen grate
Carvéd dragons of huge mould
Wreathed about with snakes of gold,
Panels, friezes sculpturesque
Freaked with zig-zag arabesque,
Rich mosaic of coloured stones,
Squares and stripes, and curves, and zones,
And all the arch and porch enscrolled
With work of scarlet, blue, and gold.—
Sees upon its brazen grate
Carvéd dragons of huge mould
Wreathed about with snakes of gold,
Panels, friezes sculpturesque
Freaked with zig-zag arabesque,
Rich mosaic of coloured stones,
Squares and stripes, and curves, and zones,
And all the arch and porch enscrolled
With work of scarlet, blue, and gold.—
Tall and swarthy, stern and slow
On the ramparts to and fro,
In their tunics laced with gold
And turbans twined of orange fold,
With the sheen of silk and steel
Glancing clearly as they wheel,
Shooting meteor-lights afar
From each flashing scimitar,
Two and two, the palace guard
Keep their silent watch and ward,
And the clank of their armed throng
Mingles with the women's song.
On the ramparts to and fro,
30
And turbans twined of orange fold,
With the sheen of silk and steel
Glancing clearly as they wheel,
Shooting meteor-lights afar
From each flashing scimitar,
Two and two, the palace guard
Keep their silent watch and ward,
And the clank of their armed throng
Mingles with the women's song.
But at times the caravan
Wending to the rich divan,
But at times the pausing train
Looking down upon the plain,
Looking down with eyes that swim
Through the moonlight pale and dim
Of the blue and silver nights,
Vaguely sees such formless sights,
Vaguely hears such hideous sounds
From those dim piles and guarded grounds,
That they pause, and shuddering say,
“Holy Allah, lord, we pray,
By thy strong and righteous will
Guard thy prophet's children still,
Guard and keep us from all ill.
Wending to the rich divan,
But at times the pausing train
Looking down upon the plain,
Looking down with eyes that swim
Through the moonlight pale and dim
Of the blue and silver nights,
Vaguely sees such formless sights,
Vaguely hears such hideous sounds
From those dim piles and guarded grounds,
That they pause, and shuddering say,
“Holy Allah, lord, we pray,
By thy strong and righteous will
Guard thy prophet's children still,
Guard and keep us from all ill.
April 25th, 1886.
31
A Vision of Delight.
In the glow of the stormy moonlight, on the shell-strewn beach, by the surges,
Under the shifting cloud, and the flaring stars, and the moon,
By the deep sea's roaring, and swirling, and whispering verges,
I laid me down to sleep and sank in a swoon.
There was fire in the air and the sound; I was ready for dreaming,
And my brain was heated with passion, and dizzy with opiate wine,
With trough and wave-crest, sinking and gleaming,
Shadow and shine.
Under the shifting cloud, and the flaring stars, and the moon,
By the deep sea's roaring, and swirling, and whispering verges,
I laid me down to sleep and sank in a swoon.
There was fire in the air and the sound; I was ready for dreaming,
And my brain was heated with passion, and dizzy with opiate wine,
With trough and wave-crest, sinking and gleaming,
Shadow and shine.
Then in my dream I saw in a deep tempestuous hollow
Myriads of angry women, a surging tumultuous throng,
Trampling under each other as waves that are swallowed and swallow,
Pursuing, o'ertaken, and singing a murderous song,
Leprous limbs like moonlit crests of the billows,
Hair-swaths like the spray thrown up, and bosoms confusedly rolled,
Tossing like fear on a restless pillow,
Ivory and gold.
Myriads of angry women, a surging tumultuous throng,
Trampling under each other as waves that are swallowed and swallow,
Pursuing, o'ertaken, and singing a murderous song,
Leprous limbs like moonlit crests of the billows,
Hair-swaths like the spray thrown up, and bosoms confusedly rolled,
Tossing like fear on a restless pillow,
Ivory and gold.
Then on the Afric coast I stood, by the burning waters,
Under a brazen sky, with foot upon copperish sand,
Served by the fairest of Ethiopia's daughters,
Nubian girls, and Numidian, flower of the land.
Dusky their silken cheeks, and soft their caresses,
Dewy the kiss of their melting mouths as the full-blown rose,
Coral lips and ebony tresses,
Peaches and sloes.
Under a brazen sky, with foot upon copperish sand,
Served by the fairest of Ethiopia's daughters,
Nubian girls, and Numidian, flower of the land.
32
Dewy the kiss of their melting mouths as the full-blown rose,
Coral lips and ebony tresses,
Peaches and sloes.
Then in a green-stone tank filled full of the sacred river,
In the Pharoahs' land, in Thebes, in the old old mystic time,
I saw the brown limbs slant, and twinkle, and shiver,
Heard the waters fall with a silver chime,
Saw the moist nude queens, emerged from the bathing
On to the dripping slabs from the waters green and dim,
With napkins of Sidon wiping and swathing
Breast, back, and limb.
In the Pharoahs' land, in Thebes, in the old old mystic time,
I saw the brown limbs slant, and twinkle, and shiver,
Heard the waters fall with a silver chime,
Saw the moist nude queens, emerged from the bathing
On to the dripping slabs from the waters green and dim,
With napkins of Sidon wiping and swathing
Breast, back, and limb.
Also Solomon's loves in the sea and the hundred lavers,
Amid the pillars, the lily-work, and the knops,
Where in my dreams the waters' light still wavers
Over the carven rows of pomegranate-tops,
Revelled, voluptuous, fair, in the mimic ocean,
Under the glow of the tapers and chain-swung balm-fed globes
Trampling alike on a king's devotion
And his broidered robes.
Amid the pillars, the lily-work, and the knops,
Where in my dreams the waters' light still wavers
Over the carven rows of pomegranate-tops,
Revelled, voluptuous, fair, in the mimic ocean,
Under the glow of the tapers and chain-swung balm-fed globes
Trampling alike on a king's devotion
And his broidered robes.
Then to the forest-ridge of Hellenic hills I clamber.—
Snake-wreathed Bacchanals raged with the fauns in a fierce embrace,
Satyrs tore the nymphs by their locks of amber,
Artemis swept like a wind with the storm of the chase.
From every rushy rill peeped a water-nymph's bosom,
Oreads danced to the stars on the hill-tops, white and stark,
Dryads' tresses mixed with the almond blossom
Their limbs with the bark!
Snake-wreathed Bacchanals raged with the fauns in a fierce embrace,
Satyrs tore the nymphs by their locks of amber,
Artemis swept like a wind with the storm of the chase.
From every rushy rill peeped a water-nymph's bosom,
Oreads danced to the stars on the hill-tops, white and stark,
Dryads' tresses mixed with the almond blossom
Their limbs with the bark!
Aug. 1st, 1886.
33
The Magians Dream.
A magian saw a golden dream
With eyes of fire and plumes of snow,
That back upon his soul did seem
An echo of himself to throw.
With eyes of fire and plumes of snow,
That back upon his soul did seem
An echo of himself to throw.
He wakened with a sudden shriek,
For he had seen his soul's ideal,
Which he was doomed henceforth to seek
Among the mazes of the real.
For he had seen his soul's ideal,
Which he was doomed henceforth to seek
Among the mazes of the real.
He crossed the earth from pole to pole,
Sounded each sea, and scaled each height,
But never to his thirsting soul
That dream vouchsafed a second sight.
Sounded each sea, and scaled each height,
But never to his thirsting soul
That dream vouchsafed a second sight.
Then to the Seventh Heaven he scaled,
And, by the sea of beryl green,
An angel grasped his wrist, and haled
Him cowering to a curtained screen—
And, by the sea of beryl green,
An angel grasped his wrist, and haled
Him cowering to a curtained screen—
“Hither, and let thy breast be steeled
To look upon thy soul's desire!”
He drew the curtain, and revealed
A skeleton with eyes of fire.
To look upon thy soul's desire!”
He drew the curtain, and revealed
A skeleton with eyes of fire.
March 14th, 1886.
34
An Invocation.
Wilt thou sing again, serene and solemn spirit,
Spirit of white sea-surf and clear mountain-snow,
Of the first high love pure souls inherit,
Of the folded roses ere they blow?
In blue moonlight once more wilt thou bathe me?
Steep me in green seas?
With the kisses print the tresses swathe me
Of the breeze?
Spirit of white sea-surf and clear mountain-snow,
Of the first high love pure souls inherit,
Of the folded roses ere they blow?
In blue moonlight once more wilt thou bathe me?
Steep me in green seas?
With the kisses print the tresses swathe me
Of the breeze?
Whither now are fled the golden bands, the girdles,
Whither now the dove-like flutter of white robes,
Budding bosoms white as foam that curdles,
Waxen eyelids dropping o'er grey globes,
Livid with love's light of paly violets,
Blue eyes showing through,
Liquid lakes in mountains, purple islets
In the blue?
Whither now the dove-like flutter of white robes,
Budding bosoms white as foam that curdles,
Waxen eyelids dropping o'er grey globes,
Livid with love's light of paly violets,
Blue eyes showing through,
Liquid lakes in mountains, purple islets
In the blue?
Nov. 1st, 1885.
35
Dreams of Sunset.
Waftings of Paradise,
Perfumes of Eden,
Under red sunset skies
Amorous flower-sighs,
Odours like melodies,
Drifting love-laden!
Perfumes of Eden,
Under red sunset skies
Amorous flower-sighs,
Odours like melodies,
Drifting love-laden!
Lights of the western air,
Seraphs of even,
Waving your rainbow hair,
Stars on your foreheads fair,
Thronging the golden stair
Leading to Heaven!
Seraphs of even,
Waving your rainbow hair,
Stars on your foreheads fair,
Thronging the golden stair
Leading to Heaven!
Spirits of holiness,
Guard me and keep me!
Come, with your soft caress
Banish my loneliness,
In sweet forgetfulness
Bathe me and steep me.
Guard me and keep me!
Come, with your soft caress
Banish my loneliness,
In sweet forgetfulness
Bathe me and steep me.
June 24th, 1886.
36
Heaven.
Though Heaven unfurl her gates of pearl
With rays that sun and star eclipse,
Though Death unroll upon my soul
The dream of the Apocalypse,
Though far descried, the star, the bride,
The city, the new Jerusalem,
Shine keen and clear with tier on tier
Of many a green and fiery gem,—
Whose icy spires shoot up like fires,
Whose golden streets are white like glass,
Where is no noon of sun or moon
But one face lights them as they pass;—
Yet shall I deem all else a dream,
The golden hills, the crystal sea,
And pass alone with eyes of stone
Among the angels seeking thee.
With rays that sun and star eclipse,
Though Death unroll upon my soul
The dream of the Apocalypse,
Though far descried, the star, the bride,
The city, the new Jerusalem,
Shine keen and clear with tier on tier
Of many a green and fiery gem,—
Whose icy spires shoot up like fires,
Whose golden streets are white like glass,
Where is no noon of sun or moon
But one face lights them as they pass;—
Yet shall I deem all else a dream,
The golden hills, the crystal sea,
And pass alone with eyes of stone
Among the angels seeking thee.
Thou art the goal of my frail soul,
Thou art my hope and my despair,
To shine as well in Heaven or Hell,
In swarthy flame or golden air.
I see thine eyes in sunset skies
Look beaming through the crimson flood,
When the haze afar round Acarnar
Burns with a blush of virgin blood,
And in the showers of golden flowers
That blaze about the dewy lawn,
And through the veil of twilight pale,
And in the stars, and in the dawn,
But most upon the hills alone
In silence of the middle night,
When all the air is keen and rare,
And all the heavens are liquid light.
Thou art my hope and my despair,
To shine as well in Heaven or Hell,
In swarthy flame or golden air.
37
Look beaming through the crimson flood,
When the haze afar round Acarnar
Burns with a blush of virgin blood,
And in the showers of golden flowers
That blaze about the dewy lawn,
And through the veil of twilight pale,
And in the stars, and in the dawn,
But most upon the hills alone
In silence of the middle night,
When all the air is keen and rare,
And all the heavens are liquid light.
Then from the graves of golden waves,
That burn upon the flery sea,
And from the shroud of glistening cloud
That swathes the dead earth tenderly,
And from the bars of shaking stars,
And pulsing of the silent night,
And mystic dreams of noiseless streams
That waver on their ghostly flight,
And wind that heaves the ivy leaves,
And dimpling of the moonlight mere,
And silver wings of water-springs,
A thin sweet voice I seem to hear—
O come to me from earth and sea
O come to me and be at rest,
A little star, a weary star,
Fled far into the golden west.
That burn upon the flery sea,
And from the shroud of glistening cloud
That swathes the dead earth tenderly,
And from the bars of shaking stars,
And pulsing of the silent night,
And mystic dreams of noiseless streams
That waver on their ghostly flight,
And wind that heaves the ivy leaves,
And dimpling of the moonlight mere,
And silver wings of water-springs,
A thin sweet voice I seem to hear—
O come to me from earth and sea
O come to me and be at rest,
A little star, a weary star,
Fled far into the golden west.
Nov. 19th, 1884.
38
Zariola.
Zariola, with the silent stealing
Moonlight, o'er the shadows of the sea,
Comes a sound mysteriously revealing
Peace from thy pure spirit unto me.
I am lonely, I am full of sorrow,
Thou art safe asleep, my Zariola,
Far off, only we shall meet to-morrow,
Zariola.
Moonlight, o'er the shadows of the sea,
Comes a sound mysteriously revealing
Peace from thy pure spirit unto me.
I am lonely, I am full of sorrow,
Thou art safe asleep, my Zariola,
Far off, only we shall meet to-morrow,
Zariola.
Zariola, I am sick of weeping,
Living, striving, hoping against hope;
Last night in a dream above me sleeping
I saw heaven on heaven of angels ope,
Now I miss thee, now in vain commotion
I am storm-tossed: soon, sweet Zariola,
I shall kiss thee by the jasper ocean,
Zariola.
Living, striving, hoping against hope;
Last night in a dream above me sleeping
I saw heaven on heaven of angels ope,
Now I miss thee, now in vain commotion
I am storm-tossed: soon, sweet Zariola,
I shall kiss thee by the jasper ocean,
Zariola.
Zariola, dear one, I am broken,
Pride and pain to-night are gone to rest.
I have kept to heart thy last love-token,
Laid up thy last blessing in my breast.
Thou art calling me from life's dull riot.
I am ready, quite, sweet Zariola,
Night is falling. Soon I shall be quiet,
Zariola.
Pride and pain to-night are gone to rest.
I have kept to heart thy last love-token,
Laid up thy last blessing in my breast.
Thou art calling me from life's dull riot.
I am ready, quite, sweet Zariola,
Night is falling. Soon I shall be quiet,
Zariola.
39
Zariola, by the moaning billow
To thy grave my thoughts have roamed away,
To thy grave, and on my weary pillow
As I turn, soft to myself I say,
She waits for me. Though the grave be numbing,
She cannot forget me, Zariola.
It grows o'er me darker. I am coming,
Zariola.
To thy grave my thoughts have roamed away,
To thy grave, and on my weary pillow
As I turn, soft to myself I say,
She waits for me. Though the grave be numbing,
She cannot forget me, Zariola.
It grows o'er me darker. I am coming,
Zariola.
June 23rd, 1886.
40
The Isle of Dreams.
In the soundless sea of sleep a magic island,
Coral-guarded in a still lagoon,
Waves with palmy vale and cypressed highland,
Gold with sunlight, silver with the moon.
He who, weary, on its shore emerges,
Hears no more the thunder of the deep,
Only dreamful booming of far surges
On the banks of sleep.
Coral-guarded in a still lagoon,
Waves with palmy vale and cypressed highland,
Gold with sunlight, silver with the moon.
He who, weary, on its shore emerges,
Hears no more the thunder of the deep,
Only dreamful booming of far surges
On the banks of sleep.
Only on the girdling coral reefs the washings
Of the shifting tide of deep repose,
Only on the inner beach the plashings
Of the inner sleep the reefs enclose,
Of the still lagoon, the lake enchanted,
Steeped in Lethe, peaceful as the grave,
And dim rustling of the forest haunted
By the haunted wave.
Of the shifting tide of deep repose,
Only on the inner beach the plashings
Of the inner sleep the reefs enclose,
Of the still lagoon, the lake enchanted,
Steeped in Lethe, peaceful as the grave,
And dim rustling of the forest haunted
By the haunted wave.
There are silver creeks and curves of golden beaches,
Golden sand, and silver dust of shells;
There the blue lake breaks in purple reaches
Far into the silence of the dells;
There the streams of thought run rippling laughter,
Sighs of longing and soft moans of love;
There the past is present, the hereafter
Opens out above.
Golden sand, and silver dust of shells;
There the blue lake breaks in purple reaches
Far into the silence of the dells;
There the streams of thought run rippling laughter,
Sighs of longing and soft moans of love;
There the past is present, the hereafter
Opens out above.
41
Soft ideals bend in rainbow arcs of glory
Dewy with the holy tears of youth,
And the hot sands bubble up with story,
And the cool rocks trickle down with truth,
And the coveted bright fruits of pleasure,
Globe-like, ready to the hand, allure
On the same bough with ripe wisdom's treasure,
And both fruits are pure!
Dewy with the holy tears of youth,
And the hot sands bubble up with story,
And the cool rocks trickle down with truth,
And the coveted bright fruits of pleasure,
Globe-like, ready to the hand, allure
On the same bough with ripe wisdom's treasure,
And both fruits are pure!
Under Upas trees the poets there and sages,
Pillowed on their yellow and hoary hair,
Hear far off the movement of the ages,
And the discord turns to music there;
Dreaming maidens on their white arms leaning
Lie with limbs collapsed and lips apart
Letting ebbing sighs with amorous meaning
Filter from the heart.
Pillowed on their yellow and hoary hair,
Hear far off the movement of the ages,
And the discord turns to music there;
Dreaming maidens on their white arms leaning
Lie with limbs collapsed and lips apart
Letting ebbing sighs with amorous meaning
Filter from the heart.
If at times the wave breaks briny there and bitter,
If our ruined hopes are washed astrand,
Yet the sea-weeds gain a crimson glitter,
Salt grows crystal touching fairy-land:
With our hair in twining wreaths we mingle
Ribbons dank of griefs half-reconciled,
With our frozen tears we play like shingle,
Each a happy child.
If our ruined hopes are washed astrand,
Yet the sea-weeds gain a crimson glitter,
Salt grows crystal touching fairy-land:
With our hair in twining wreaths we mingle
Ribbons dank of griefs half-reconciled,
With our frozen tears we play like shingle,
Each a happy child.
Each one of us with the astral twilight falling
Hastens thither on a fairy barque,
Lulled by fairy music, lured by calling
Of soft Siren voices through the dark.
Round our prow the phosphorescent billow
Sparkles sheeny silver blue and green,
As we rest upon a rose-leaf pillow
'Neath a silken screen.
Hastens thither on a fairy barque,
Lulled by fairy music, lured by calling
Of soft Siren voices through the dark.
Round our prow the phosphorescent billow
Sparkles sheeny silver blue and green,
As we rest upon a rose-leaf pillow
'Neath a silken screen.
42
Till, afar, off, o'er the din sea-line emerging
Coruscating pinnacles aspire,
As the love-moon rises o'er them, verging
In a dazzling line of molten fire;
And the green stars, palpitating, throbbing,
Beckon to us from the purple peaks,
And upon the shore the sea-waves sobbing
Melt in meteor-streaks.
Coruscating pinnacles aspire,
As the love-moon rises o'er them, verging
In a dazzling line of molten fire;
And the green stars, palpitating, throbbing,
Beckon to us from the purple peaks,
And upon the shore the sea-waves sobbing
Melt in meteor-streaks.
Nov. 23rd 1885.
43
The Cypress and Myrtle.
(Imitation of Shelley.)
There was a garden fair to see,
And in it bloomed a myrtle tree.
Its pure frail buds of pearlish white
Feasted on air, and heat, and light.
And in it bloomed a myrtle tree.
Its pure frail buds of pearlish white
Feasted on air, and heat, and light.
But in that garden fair to view,
Not far off, a dark cypress grew:
Its cold black shadow crept from dawn
Till eve across the glittering lawn
Not far off, a dark cypress grew:
Its cold black shadow crept from dawn
Till eve across the glittering lawn
And every day at noon-tide hour
That shadow crossed the myrtle-flower,
And as it passed the roses paled,
The shuddering myrtle shrank and quailed.
That shadow crossed the myrtle-flower,
And as it passed the roses paled,
The shuddering myrtle shrank and quailed.
And week by week, and day by day,
That shadow on the myrtle lay,
A heavy gloom, a freezing fear,
More than the slender plant could bear.
That shadow on the myrtle lay,
A heavy gloom, a freezing fear,
More than the slender plant could bear.
And week by week, and day by day,
That gentle myrtle pined
They could not both live side by side.
Who doubts it was the myrtle died?
That gentle myrtle pined
They could not both live side by side.
Who doubts it was the myrtle died?
Oh life, oh garden, crossed by fate,
So beautiful so desolate!
Oh poisoning thought forever nigh!
How dare we love? why must we die?
So beautiful so desolate!
Oh poisoning thought forever nigh!
How dare we love? why must we die?
May 5th, 1886.
44
Chivalry.
Oh, for the days of glorious chivalry!
I see knights sheathed in graven gold, that wear
Silk coats embroidered with rich blazonry,
Gold lilies sprinkled in an argent square,
Heraldic roses and devices rare,
Helms plumed with scarlet shade,
And ruby-studded belts, that bear
A diamond-hilted blade.
I see knights sheathed in graven gold, that wear
Silk coats embroidered with rich blazonry,
Gold lilies sprinkled in an argent square,
Heraldic roses and devices rare,
Helms plumed with scarlet shade,
And ruby-studded belts, that bear
A diamond-hilted blade.
Bright warriors, gay as birds of gorgeous plume,
On war-steeds barbed with gold-flowered purple woof,
In plated steel, that burns with a green gloom—
(Crowns gird with gems their globéd morion's proof),—
Pages and squires that follow far aloof,
Heralds in tabards sheen,
And ambling palfreys with gilt hoof
Rid by some wandering queen.
On war-steeds barbed with gold-flowered purple woof,
In plated steel, that burns with a green gloom—
(Crowns gird with gems their globéd morion's proof),—
Pages and squires that follow far aloof,
Heralds in tabards sheen,
And ambling palfreys with gilt hoof
Rid by some wandering queen.
Fair castles girt with battlement and moat,
With stone-paved courts, and closes of rose-bowers,
That rear aloft, 'neath golden flags afloat,
Their buttressed keep with pinnacles and towers;
Walled towns with huddled roofs and fencéd bowers,
Where warders' voices call
Counting the long and moonless hours,
At guard upon the wall
With stone-paved courts, and closes of rose-bowers,
That rear aloft, 'neath golden flags afloat,
Their buttressed keep with pinnacles and towers;
Walled towns with huddled roofs and fencéd bowers,
Where warders' voices call
Counting the long and moonless hours,
At guard upon the wall
45
Abbeys, that peal all night with full-voiced choir,
And shine through many-hued deep-grainéd glass,
Paving the tombs with pictures wrought in fire,
And shedding rainbows on the rank green grass;
Giants, magicians, and fay-dames that pass
Through each enchanted grove;
Tourneys, and fencéd lists, and gorgeous mass,
And gallant courts of love!
And shine through many-hued deep-grainéd glass,
Paving the tombs with pictures wrought in fire,
And shedding rainbows on the rank green grass;
Giants, magicians, and fay-dames that pass
Through each enchanted grove;
Tourneys, and fencéd lists, and gorgeous mass,
And gallant courts of love!
Arthur, and Charlemagne, and Amadis,
Tristram, thrice crowned by arms and love and art;
The fay that conquered Cæsar with a kiss,
And with a sigh stole Alexander's heart
And glorious Bradamant, and Britomart,
All pass in rich array—
A railway-whistle wakes me with a start
To our cold modern day.
Tristram, thrice crowned by arms and love and art;
The fay that conquered Cæsar with a kiss,
And with a sigh stole Alexander's heart
And glorious Bradamant, and Britomart,
All pass in rich array—
A railway-whistle wakes me with a start
To our cold modern day.
Aug. 1st, 1886.
46
The Moonlight City.
Piles titanic, tier on tier of marbly buildings,
Spheric domes of lead that burn like lazulite,
Needly slated spires the full moon gilding
Makes each an inverted stalactite!
Bronzy dolphins, and reposing lions
Dream gigantic dreams:
Roads that flash like gemmed Orion's
Belt of beams!
Spheric domes of lead that burn like lazulite,
Needly slated spires the full moon gilding
Makes each an inverted stalactite!
Bronzy dolphins, and reposing lions
Dream gigantic dreams:
Roads that flash like gemmed Orion's
Belt of beams!
Round the massy plinth of many a fluted pillar
Wheel the giddy throngs in mazy shadow-dance
Like dead leaves in autumn, only stiller,—
Whirling atoms in the void of chance:
Each one with his shadow on the paving
Flits a spectral form,
Every soul a maniac raving
In a storm,
Wheel the giddy throngs in mazy shadow-dance
Like dead leaves in autumn, only stiller,—
Whirling atoms in the void of chance:
Each one with his shadow on the paving
Flits a spectral form,
Every soul a maniac raving
In a storm,
Raving, but in silence deep, the proud compression
That the weakest learn in stoic modern life,
Which of torture offers less confession
Than the Indian to the scalping knife,
Proudly smiling on the demon raking
For the life-roots of the heart,
Heart which all the while is breaking—
But apart.
That the weakest learn in stoic modern life,
Which of torture offers less confession
Than the Indian to the scalping knife,
Proudly smiling on the demon raking
For the life-roots of the heart,
Heart which all the while is breaking—
But apart.
47
Flaunting, fluttering damsels, dizened out in golden
Draperies of silk that rustle o'er the stones,
Sweet young faces prematurely olden,
Lips that move with little plaintive moans,
Crimson aigrets tufted on each bonnet,
Round each finger bright
Facets, that refract upon it
Rainbow light!
Draperies of silk that rustle o'er the stones,
Sweet young faces prematurely olden,
Lips that move with little plaintive moans,
Crimson aigrets tufted on each bonnet,
Round each finger bright
Facets, that refract upon it
Rainbow light!
Pretty crimson shoes, and pretty crimson stockings,
Vulgar latest ditties of the music-hall:
Pert lips pouting into pretty mockings
Let the fragrant rolled narcotic fall:
And the sparks are stamped, and trodden under
Like the lives of these:
Careless of the high god's thunder
On the seas.
Vulgar latest ditties of the music-hall:
Pert lips pouting into pretty mockings
Let the fragrant rolled narcotic fall:
And the sparks are stamped, and trodden under
Like the lives of these:
Careless of the high god's thunder
On the seas.
“Pity! here's a fine thing: who are you to pity?
Have you nothing on your conscience, modern saint?
Can you thread at peace the seething city?
See you here mere powder and mere paint?”
Nay, alas! I see wronged fellow mortals,
Human hearts and lives,
Cast forth from the world's hard portals,
Daughters, wives.
Have you nothing on your conscience, modern saint?
Can you thread at peace the seething city?
See you here mere powder and mere paint?”
Nay, alas! I see wronged fellow mortals,
Human hearts and lives,
Cast forth from the world's hard portals,
Daughters, wives.
“And the lamp-lit bridges, look you, and the river—
Can you swear none ever drank that wave for you?
There 'mid cold electric swirl and shiver
Of the sheeny eddies white and blue,
There, just there, in the ghastly tides albescence,
Hands, and lips that grin,
Reach out from wild phosphorescence
For thy sin!”
Can you swear none ever drank that wave for you?
There 'mid cold electric swirl and shiver
Of the sheeny eddies white and blue,
There, just there, in the ghastly tides albescence,
Hands, and lips that grin,
Reach out from wild phosphorescence
For thy sin!”
48
Go, the wine cup lays old memory's ghost uneasy,
Keeps him quiet in the cere-cloths safely strapt.
If he walk, 'twill be among the breezy
Curling mist-rings of the wine-fume wrapt.
Pour the frothing liquor in the glasses!
'Neath its drowsier sway,
Dream of hills and mountain-passes
Far away.
Keeps him quiet in the cere-cloths safely strapt.
If he walk, 'twill be among the breezy
Curling mist-rings of the wine-fume wrapt.
Pour the frothing liquor in the glasses!
'Neath its drowsier sway,
Dream of hills and mountain-passes
Far away.
March 25th, 1885.
49
The Secret.
A minstrel lived in bygone years
Who had a voice so sad and sweet,
It melted hearts of stone to tears,
And haunted all whom he might meet.
Who had a voice so sad and sweet,
It melted hearts of stone to tears,
And haunted all whom he might meet.
His eyes too rained a pitying flood,
But every song of his strange art,
They say, was written first in blood
Drained from some woman's broken heart.
But every song of his strange art,
They say, was written first in blood
Drained from some woman's broken heart.
March 27th, 1886.
50
The Dancing Girl.
Gaudy painted hangings, fringed by many a tatter,
Daubed with bird or beast! Pipe, whistle and scream,
Flute and clarion, trump and drum, and clatter
Of the doll-musicians, blown by steam!
There before the screen a damsel tinkling
With a timbrel, timed by bell and gong,
Sashed with scarlet, blue, and tinsel twinkling,
Danced and leapt along.
Daubed with bird or beast! Pipe, whistle and scream,
Flute and clarion, trump and drum, and clatter
Of the doll-musicians, blown by steam!
There before the screen a damsel tinkling
With a timbrel, timed by bell and gong,
Sashed with scarlet, blue, and tinsel twinkling,
Danced and leapt along.
With her shadow on the painted canvas dancing
Fitful cast by the jet's flickering glare,
Sinuous limbs, arms waving, quick feet glancing,
True to cymbal's clash and clarion's blare!
How the pure grace of her girlish motion
Made the vulgar show seem half divine,
Steeped my breast as with an opiate potion
Of enchanted wine!
Fitful cast by the jet's flickering glare,
Sinuous limbs, arms waving, quick feet glancing,
True to cymbal's clash and clarion's blare!
How the pure grace of her girlish motion
Made the vulgar show seem half divine,
Steeped my breast as with an opiate potion
Of enchanted wine!
But the shadow on the waving back-ground thrilled me,
For it seemed a skeleton on springs,
And its jerky leaps and gestures filled me
With a dream of hollow eyeless rings,
Bony shanks, and blackened teeth a-grinning,
Lurid damp-fires of sepulchral dew,—
Till my dizzy brain, betwixt them, spinning,
Wondered which was true.
For it seemed a skeleton on springs,
And its jerky leaps and gestures filled me
With a dream of hollow eyeless rings,
Bony shanks, and blackened teeth a-grinning,
Lurid damp-fires of sepulchral dew,—
Till my dizzy brain, betwixt them, spinning,
Wondered which was true.
March 27th, 1887.
51
The Tropic Isle.
'Tis a spent volcano-crater down upon the fierce equator,
On the blazing tropic sea a tropic isle of blazing blossom,
Girted with a silver quarrel of sea-waves with reefs of coral
And a golden glass lagoon that takes the sunset to its bosom.
On the blazing tropic sea a tropic isle of blazing blossom,
Girted with a silver quarrel of sea-waves with reefs of coral
And a golden glass lagoon that takes the sunset to its bosom.
'Tis a magic isle, where clamber o'er green grottoes blooms of amber,
Over mineral stones than which the riots of green waves are duller
Burning with intenser fuel than the hot heart of a jewel,
Green as polar ice alive with rainbows of prismatic colour.
Over mineral stones than which the riots of green waves are duller
Burning with intenser fuel than the hot heart of a jewel,
Green as polar ice alive with rainbows of prismatic colour.
Yellow gems are in the gravel, where clear rivulets unravel,
Like green snakes, their spiry coils of sinuous, slow, anguineal motion.
Rich mosaic flowers engrailing either bank, light up the trailing
Waters like the painted snake-skin, till they writhe into the ocean.
Like green snakes, their spiry coils of sinuous, slow, anguineal motion.
Rich mosaic flowers engrailing either bank, light up the trailing
Waters like the painted snake-skin, till they writhe into the ocean.
And those coils appear to strangle many a green hill they entangle
In the glittering wreathing meshes of their cobra-like embraces,
Sliding slippery under bridges of felled trees and fallen ridges,
With their tail upon the mountains and the ocean at their faces.
In the glittering wreathing meshes of their cobra-like embraces,
Sliding slippery under bridges of felled trees and fallen ridges,
With their tail upon the mountains and the ocean at their faces.
52
Bread-fruits and pomegranates vary all the forest, and the prairie
Flickers with the flaming flowers that sway with fitful undulations,
And the marshes shine vermilion with strange rush-flowers by the million,
And the petals fall like wine drops through the woods in red libations.
Flickers with the flaming flowers that sway with fitful undulations,
And the marshes shine vermilion with strange rush-flowers by the million,
And the petals fall like wine drops through the woods in red libations.
Birds with plumes of sunsmit showers make gold rain among the flowers,
Humming birds and birds of Eden, flitting with phantasmal feather,
Clear, electric, iridescent, fleeting, flitting, evanescent.
Gaudy parrots in the branches hold communion loud together.
Humming birds and birds of Eden, flitting with phantasmal feather,
Clear, electric, iridescent, fleeting, flitting, evanescent.
Gaudy parrots in the branches hold communion loud together.
Oft that isle appears before me when the dreams of sleep come o'er me.
There I seem to live with thee far off from men, from death, from sorrow;
Ah, would that dawn brought no heart-breaking, that hope were truth, and dreams were waking,
And not the vision of to-day the sad derision of to-morrow!
There I seem to live with thee far off from men, from death, from sorrow;
Ah, would that dawn brought no heart-breaking, that hope were truth, and dreams were waking,
And not the vision of to-day the sad derision of to-morrow!
May 1st, 1885.
53
The City of The Cimmerians.
In the keen cold ether of the glacial regions,
On the ice-peaks of the starry pole,
Where the giant emerald-mailèd legions
Guard the happy Hyperborean goal,
Swathed in whirling mists and lurid breezes,
'Neath the Northern-light's red fitful blaze,
The Cimmerian twilight-city freezes,
Hovering in the haze.
On the ice-peaks of the starry pole,
Where the giant emerald-mailèd legions
Guard the happy Hyperborean goal,
Swathed in whirling mists and lurid breezes,
'Neath the Northern-light's red fitful blaze,
The Cimmerian twilight-city freezes,
Hovering in the haze.
Crystal pinnacles green spires and sapphire steeples
Tower into the bright white clusters of the stars,
Tottering citadels of shadowy peoples,
Fleckt with vapour, streaked with ghostly bars
Upward blown in foggy curls, that, wreathing,
Sweep their fading edges far to heaven.—
Underneath white surf and green wave seething
On the ice-floes driven!
Tower into the bright white clusters of the stars,
Tottering citadels of shadowy peoples,
Fleckt with vapour, streaked with ghostly bars
Upward blown in foggy curls, that, wreathing,
Sweep their fading edges far to heaven.—
Underneath white surf and green wave seething
On the ice-floes driven!
March 22nd, 1886.
54
The Ethiopian Forest.
In the golden tropic, in the gorgeous glory
Of the Afric forest, choked with scarlet bloom,
Where the banyans build from storey out to storey
Their gigantic palaces of gloom,
Where great serpents round the palm-stems tangled
Wear their green and gold enamelled mail
And bright hum-birds iridescent spangled
Flutter on the gale,
Of the Afric forest, choked with scarlet bloom,
Where the banyans build from storey out to storey
Their gigantic palaces of gloom,
Where great serpents round the palm-stems tangled
Wear their green and gold enamelled mail
And bright hum-birds iridescent spangled
Flutter on the gale,
Where the tigers growl, and gaudy parrots chatter,
Mid the orchids and the flowering parasite,
Where the almond trees their tender blossoms scatter,
Shedding rain of petals pink and white,
Where the elephant through the jungle crashing
Frights with pealing trumpet the dense brake,
Where the river-horse to shoreward plashing
Scares the water-snake;
Mid the orchids and the flowering parasite,
Where the almond trees their tender blossoms scatter,
Shedding rain of petals pink and white,
Where the elephant through the jungle crashing
Frights with pealing trumpet the dense brake,
Where the river-horse to shoreward plashing
Scares the water-snake;
There the soul would picture in luxurious dreaming
Temples, airy structures of fair fantasy,
Red globes making luminous with their crimson beaming
Fabulous palaces of ivory,
Garden terraces by steps of marble paving
Sloping down to waters green and dim,
Where tall queens with tresses gold and waving
Revel with white limb.
Temples, airy structures of fair fantasy,
Red globes making luminous with their crimson beaming
Fabulous palaces of ivory,
Garden terraces by steps of marble paving
Sloping down to waters green and dim,
Where tall queens with tresses gold and waving
Revel with white limb.
May 1st, 1886.
55
“A Dream of Ancient Egypt.”
(Reminiscence of a Picture.)
Long lit lakes that ripple like green flame blown in ridges,
Steeped in a glamour of moonlight only viewed in dreams,
Temples and pyramids, palaces and bridges,
Hanging as in air o'er mystic streams,
Magic precincts girt with towers fantastic
Where colossal deities repose,
Boats that pass with lights in some Bubastic
Festival—Who knows?
Steeped in a glamour of moonlight only viewed in dreams,
Temples and pyramids, palaces and bridges,
Hanging as in air o'er mystic streams,
Magic precincts girt with towers fantastic
Where colossal deities repose,
Boats that pass with lights in some Bubastic
Festival—Who knows?
Ancient Nile-boats, Syrian and Phœnicean galleys,
Fraught with myrrh, and cinnamon, and sandal-wood,
Passing in and out the arching alleys
Of gigantic pillars down the flood,
Drifting on the tide like barques of Eden,
Vague and shadowy with vast spreading sails,
Manned by spirits, with awful treasures laden,
Blown by magic gales!
Fraught with myrrh, and cinnamon, and sandal-wood,
Passing in and out the arching alleys
Of gigantic pillars down the flood,
Drifting on the tide like barques of Eden,
Vague and shadowy with vast spreading sails,
Manned by spirits, with awful treasures laden,
Blown by magic gales!
Who shall tell that sees them gliding on by legions
What strange freights they bear to Pharoah's feast?
New religions brought from far off regions,
Rites and emblems, sacred bird and beast,
Winged Assyrian gods, Greek phallic symbols,
Bacchus' ivy and Melitta's rites,
Flutes of Pan, or Corybantian cymbals,
Through the moonlit nights.
What strange freights they bear to Pharoah's feast?
New religions brought from far off regions,
Rites and emblems, sacred bird and beast,
Winged Assyrian gods, Greek phallic symbols,
Bacchus' ivy and Melitta's rites,
Flutes of Pan, or Corybantian cymbals,
Through the moonlit nights.
56
Egypt, home of tame and monstrous superstitions,
Where all things are sacred, she has room for all!
Isis and Osiris make no hard conditions;
To their side Cyrene's gods they call.
Only all grow like them in their presence,
Vague and monstrous and Titanic shapes;
Laughing gods of Hellas changing essence
Grow gigantic apes.
Where all things are sacred, she has room for all!
Isis and Osiris make no hard conditions;
To their side Cyrene's gods they call.
Only all grow like them in their presence,
Vague and monstrous and Titanic shapes;
Laughing gods of Hellas changing essence
Grow gigantic apes.
Cat, and goat, and bullock, crocodile, and ibis
In strange brutal acclamation cry, “All hail,”
With the other gods, whose hideous tribe is
Past all reckoning multiplied; and pale,
Memphian Belus in the lofty tower,
Shut up with his shuddering mortal bride,
Stirs on the cushion, when some foreign power
Jars his statue's side.
In strange brutal acclamation cry, “All hail,”
With the other gods, whose hideous tribe is
Past all reckoning multiplied; and pale,
Memphian Belus in the lofty tower,
Shut up with his shuddering mortal bride,
Stirs on the cushion, when some foreign power
Jars his statue's side.
All the god-kings in their gilded generations,
From Men upwards—demi-gods and hero-kings—
Vague dim voices swell the acclamations
When a new god lifts his voice and sings.
Memnon in the desert, swarthy wonder,
As at sunrise, wakes from sleep profound,
Like a mighty lute-string snapt asunder,
Gives a solemn sound!
From Men upwards—demi-gods and hero-kings—
Vague dim voices swell the acclamations
When a new god lifts his voice and sings.
Memnon in the desert, swarthy wonder,
As at sunrise, wakes from sleep profound,
Like a mighty lute-string snapt asunder,
Gives a solemn sound!
Here the sombre walls seem built by more than mortals,
Solid masonry, deep based, and broad, and high;
And the columns of the temple portals
Show like pillars of the earth and sky.
'Neath the pedestals of sculptured lynxes
Creep like flies the masts of river-skiffs,
'Neath the plinths of obelisks and sphinxes
Scrawled with hieroglyphs.
Solid masonry, deep based, and broad, and high;
And the columns of the temple portals
Show like pillars of the earth and sky.
'Neath the pedestals of sculptured lynxes
Creep like flies the masts of river-skiffs,
'Neath the plinths of obelisks and sphinxes
Scrawled with hieroglyphs.
57
Marble mausoleums and sepulchral chambers
Hide each dead king's proud sarcophagus;
Smoking incense from the balmy embers
Climbs the roof with prayer melodious,
And beneath their vast and shadowy places
Gods of basalt and of granite freeze,
With immovable and placid faces,
Hands upon their knees.
Hide each dead king's proud sarcophagus;
Smoking incense from the balmy embers
Climbs the roof with prayer melodious,
And beneath their vast and shadowy places
Gods of basalt and of granite freeze,
With immovable and placid faces,
Hands upon their knees.
But the king, the Pharaoh, from his gorgeous palace
Looks out dreamily on the silent flowing Nile,
Head tiaraed, in his hand a chalice,
Watching slaves thrown to the crocodile.
Minstrels play before on harp and viol;
Clothed alone in mystic ivy-twine
A swart maiden from a golden phial
Pours enchanted wine.
Looks out dreamily on the silent flowing Nile,
Head tiaraed, in his hand a chalice,
Watching slaves thrown to the crocodile.
Minstrels play before on harp and viol;
Clothed alone in mystic ivy-twine
A swart maiden from a golden phial
Pours enchanted wine.
June 27th, 1886.
58
The Red Divan.
The Red Divan, on Malebolge's Red-Hot Domes. —The description properly applies to “The City of Dis,” of which however Malebolge, with its rocks of iron-coloured granite, and indeed all the lower circles of the Inferno, may be regarded as a part.
Through many a court and corridor,
In gorgeous hues of crimson, ran
The reaches of the red divan,
As if a river, all of gore,
Should wind, from lurid span to span,
With reddish ripples oozing on
The verges of a blood-red shore.
On many a swarthy carmine couch
Lay snowy women by the score,
And, white on red, their deep flanks shone
O'er each luxurious ottoman.
Their tawny hair lies littered o'er
The blazing velvet, or they crouch
In white heaps on the floor.
In gorgeous hues of crimson, ran
The reaches of the red divan,
As if a river, all of gore,
Should wind, from lurid span to span,
With reddish ripples oozing on
The verges of a blood-red shore.
On many a swarthy carmine couch
Lay snowy women by the score,
And, white on red, their deep flanks shone
O'er each luxurious ottoman.
Their tawny hair lies littered o'er
The blazing velvet, or they crouch
In white heaps on the floor.
The shadows on the silken plush,
Like ruffling wind-streaks of a squall
On the smooth ocean, mark the wall
Where some curled golden head may brush
With amber swaths, that cling and crawl,
The soft and shaggy velvet nap,
Or where white heavy shoulders crush
The padded cushions with deep dint,
Or fingers plough a furrowing flush
Of five red scars. In each girl's lap
Lie heaps of roses, shaded all
With deepening hues of burning blush.
In blood-stone tanks of sombre tint
The sanguine fountains gush.
Like ruffling wind-streaks of a squall
On the smooth ocean, mark the wall
Where some curled golden head may brush
With amber swaths, that cling and crawl,
The soft and shaggy velvet nap,
Or where white heavy shoulders crush
The padded cushions with deep dint,
Or fingers plough a furrowing flush
Of five red scars. In each girl's lap
Lie heaps of roses, shaded all
With deepening hues of burning blush.
In blood-stone tanks of sombre tint
The sanguine fountains gush.
59
In vases rich red lilies tower
With leaves curled back in regal state,
Red passion-bloom, and orchids great;
And many a gorgeous tropic flower
Unfolds, vermilion plait on plait,
Its red robe like a cardinal's
Deep scarlet-purple garb of power;
And still, it seems, dark hyacinths
Drip with Adonis' mortal shower,
That shadowed forth at festivals
In olden time his murderous fate;
Proud roses make each bed a bower,
Heap all the urns, and 'neath the plinths
Of sculptured bronzes cower.
With leaves curled back in regal state,
Red passion-bloom, and orchids great;
And many a gorgeous tropic flower
Unfolds, vermilion plait on plait,
Its red robe like a cardinal's
Deep scarlet-purple garb of power;
And still, it seems, dark hyacinths
Drip with Adonis' mortal shower,
That shadowed forth at festivals
In olden time his murderous fate;
Proud roses make each bed a bower,
Heap all the urns, and 'neath the plinths
Of sculptured bronzes cower.
The curtains hang like sunset cloud,
As if dark mist and red fire wove
A screen of flame o'er each alcove;
Or like a murdered woman's shroud,
As if their folds and fringes clove
In sombre masses o'er a deed
That should be hidden; or like a proud
And heavy-hued imperial pall
That hides the tyrant from the crowd
That long to see his death-wounds bleed;
Or as in some basaltic cove
Red waves with shadowy troughs, not loud,
But smooth and silent, rise and fall,—
Black furrows ocean-ploughed!
As if dark mist and red fire wove
A screen of flame o'er each alcove;
Or like a murdered woman's shroud,
As if their folds and fringes clove
In sombre masses o'er a deed
That should be hidden; or like a proud
And heavy-hued imperial pall
That hides the tyrant from the crowd
That long to see his death-wounds bleed;
Or as in some basaltic cove
Red waves with shadowy troughs, not loud,
But smooth and silent, rise and fall,—
Black furrows ocean-ploughed!
60
And sometimes on the velvet plain,
Where noiseless feet glide to and fro
Upon the carpet soft as snow,
The crimson wears a deeper stain
And colours with an angry glow.
Here jealousy has left his brand,
Here wafted once its wind of pain
The ruby-hilted scimitar,
And sprinkled here an evil rain.
And on the wall on either hand,
But fainter there, a man may know,
Scarce with drawn brows and eyes astrain,
Some fainter splash, or slash, or scar
Upon the sombre grain
Where noiseless feet glide to and fro
Upon the carpet soft as snow,
The crimson wears a deeper stain
And colours with an angry glow.
Here jealousy has left his brand,
Here wafted once its wind of pain
The ruby-hilted scimitar,
And sprinkled here an evil rain.
And on the wall on either hand,
But fainter there, a man may know,
Scarce with drawn brows and eyes astrain,
Some fainter splash, or slash, or scar
Upon the sombre grain
Here hanging in the murky air,
As by the hue of coppery skies
Or midnight red with fire, the eyes
Are dazzled with a heavy glare,
Such as in hell with sudden surprise
On Malebolge's red-hot domes
And cupolas the man of sighs
Saw hovering, cast up from below,
A steam of many agonies
Exhaled by those accursèd homes.
E'en such a dusky crimson dyes
This home of lust and of despair
And flickers with a feverish glow
On limb, and breast, and hair.
As by the hue of coppery skies
Or midnight red with fire, the eyes
Are dazzled with a heavy glare,
Such as in hell with sudden surprise
On Malebolge's red-hot domes
And cupolas the man of sighs
Saw hovering, cast up from below,
A steam of many agonies
Exhaled by those accursèd homes.
E'en such a dusky crimson dyes
This home of lust and of despair
And flickers with a feverish glow
On limb, and breast, and hair.
61
The Lady of the Tombs.
Whiter than marble,
And stiller than death,
Where no bird dare warble
But under its breath,
She sits in the shadow,
She cowers in the gloom,
Of the mystical meadow
That leads to the tomb.
And stiller than death,
Where no bird dare warble
But under its breath,
She sits in the shadow,
She cowers in the gloom,
Of the mystical meadow
That leads to the tomb.
Her yellow locks whiten,
But 'tis not with age;
Her fitful eyes brighten
With murderous rage.
Her lips move not: no mirror
Would dim with her breath.
She is still as the terror
And presence of death.
But 'tis not with age;
Her fitful eyes brighten
With murderous rage.
Her lips move not: no mirror
Would dim with her breath.
She is still as the terror
And presence of death.
Now with passionate gesture
A moment confessed,
She rends her gold vesture,
She bares her pale breast.—
But no heart beats beneath it,
There, locked in the vice
Of the hard snows that sheathe it,
Is a lump of cold ice.
A moment confessed,
She rends her gold vesture,
She bares her pale breast.—
But no heart beats beneath it,
There, locked in the vice
Of the hard snows that sheathe it,
Is a lump of cold ice.
March 10th, 1886
62
The Rebel Star.
Murder, Rape, Oppression, Famine, Crime, and Madness
Met upon a time in an abandoned star;
And they shrieked aloud in hideous gladness,
“Here we rally, here renew the war!”
And the astral glories shook about them,
Holy flames of love,
One great hostile universe without them,
Round, beneath, above!
Met upon a time in an abandoned star;
And they shrieked aloud in hideous gladness,
“Here we rally, here renew the war!”
And the astral glories shook about them,
Holy flames of love,
One great hostile universe without them,
Round, beneath, above!
But that fulvous star shot long and lurid flashes
Far among the threatening seraph hosts of light,
Palpitating fierce with thunderous crashes,
Wrapt in swart and sulphurous plaits of night.
A hot globe of fiery copper metal
They behold suspire,
Shedding scurf of many a molten petal,
Shreds of venomous fire.
Far among the threatening seraph hosts of light,
Palpitating fierce with thunderous crashes,
Wrapt in swart and sulphurous plaits of night.
A hot globe of fiery copper metal
They behold suspire,
Shedding scurf of many a molten petal,
Shreds of venomous fire.
And the demons swathed in foggy smoke of battle
Hold their volleying citadel and laugh aloud,
As they hear the sudden thunders rattle,
As they snuff the sulphur of the cloud.—
As a plague-ship by the brine-blast driven
Breaks the white wave curled,
So a hell amid surrounding heaven
Burns our thundering world.
Hold their volleying citadel and laugh aloud,
As they hear the sudden thunders rattle,
As they snuff the sulphur of the cloud.—
As a plague-ship by the brine-blast driven
Breaks the white wave curled,
So a hell amid surrounding heaven
Burns our thundering world.
Aug. 25th, 1885.
63
The Mystic Cave.
Upon a dim and mystic shore
Opened an enigmatic cave.
That to the ocean's questioning roar
A sad æolian echo gave.
Opened an enigmatic cave.
That to the ocean's questioning roar
A sad æolian echo gave.
Thither the dumb blind millions came,
Helpless and ignorant, scorned and poor,
Weary with toil and grief and shame—
It gulfed them all, and moaned for more
Helpless and ignorant, scorned and poor,
Weary with toil and grief and shame—
It gulfed them all, and moaned for more
Then came with threats the kings of earth,
Sage, poet, hero, martyr, priest,
And questioned it. That mournful mirth,
That deep derision never ceased.
Sage, poet, hero, martyr, priest,
And questioned it. That mournful mirth,
That deep derision never ceased.
But ever and again a voice
From the inmost precinct, stern and low,
With sudden inexplicable choice
Named each by name: and he must go.
From the inmost precinct, stern and low,
With sudden inexplicable choice
Named each by name: and he must go.
And some by terror lured, or pain,
Plunged of themselves into the gloom:
But none e'er issued forth again
To tell those watchers of his doom.
Plunged of themselves into the gloom:
But none e'er issued forth again
To tell those watchers of his doom.
They went, they passed forevermore:—
And at the same dim gate of woe
We stand, upon the same dim shore,
Waiting our turn, when each must go.
And at the same dim gate of woe
We stand, upon the same dim shore,
Waiting our turn, when each must go.
May 5th, 1886.
64
The Muse.
On an island of the infinite Atlantic,
In a palace myriad-shaped of spire and dome,
Hurling wilder voices to the frantic
Echoing and re-echoing of the foam,
Over silver surge and sands of amber,
Timed by many a flute,
A mad priestess plays upon the tambour
And the lute;
In a palace myriad-shaped of spire and dome,
Hurling wilder voices to the frantic
Echoing and re-echoing of the foam,
Over silver surge and sands of amber,
Timed by many a flute,
A mad priestess plays upon the tambour
And the lute;
Answering song for song defiant to the surges,
Tossing to the brine-blast her enamoured hair
Ever wild-eyed looking to the verges
Of the illimitable sea and air,
Back into the red sun's face of battle
Staring fierce and fell,
Tapping on the timbrel sets a-rattle
Drum and bell!
Tossing to the brine-blast her enamoured hair
Ever wild-eyed looking to the verges
Of the illimitable sea and air,
Back into the red sun's face of battle
Staring fierce and fell,
Tapping on the timbrel sets a-rattle
Drum and bell!
May 31st, 1886.
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