Feda with Other Poems Chiefly Lyrical. By Rennell Rodd ... With an Etching by Harper Pennington |
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PRAGUE. |
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 | Feda with Other Poems |  |
120
PRAGUE.
Moldau bends, and ripples broader
Underneath the citied ridge,
Sculptured saint and hero-warder
Guard the many-statued bridge.
Underneath the citied ridge,
Sculptured saint and hero-warder
Guard the many-statued bridge.
Yonder rise the domes and gables,
Halls of half-forgotten kings,—
Sounds of names that move like fables
O'er a tide of human things.
Halls of half-forgotten kings,—
Sounds of names that move like fables
O'er a tide of human things.
Here were banquetings assembled,
Haughty speech and flow of wine,
When the Northern princes trembled
At the name of Wallenstein.
Haughty speech and flow of wine,
When the Northern princes trembled
At the name of Wallenstein.
Friedland's palace! That world's wonder,
Can it be this sombre pile,
Where the stucco cracks asunder
And the frescoes make you smile?
Can it be this sombre pile,
Where the stucco cracks asunder
And the frescoes make you smile?
121
This the tower where your hero
Gauged the boding star's intent,
Cabalistic plus and zero
Mark the nothing that it meant.
Gauged the boding star's intent,
Cabalistic plus and zero
Mark the nothing that it meant.
Princes feared and armies praised him,
Bigots blessed and mothers cursed,
Till the ruin sank that raised him,
And his creatures struck him first.
Bigots blessed and mothers cursed,
Till the ruin sank that raised him,
And his creatures struck him first.
Meteor of a tumult season
Flashed across the troubled skies,
Giant gifts and human treason—
Not a hero in my eyes.
Flashed across the troubled skies,
Giant gifts and human treason—
Not a hero in my eyes.
I will seek a corner rather
Which I came to Prague to find,
Holds a thought which pierces farther
Through a less romantic mind.
Which I came to Prague to find,
Holds a thought which pierces farther
Through a less romantic mind.
Deep in narrow streets and crowded,
Where it reeks of slums and stews,
Cells and garrets darkness-shrouded,
Is the Quarter of the Jews;
Where it reeks of slums and stews,
Cells and garrets darkness-shrouded,
Is the Quarter of the Jews;
122
In the heart of the old city
Walled away from living tread,
Out of date of human pity,
Lies the rest-close of their dead.
Walled away from living tread,
Out of date of human pity,
Lies the rest-close of their dead.
Alders never a bird would nest in
Shake a few leaves blown and sere;
Only grass will grow protesting
Something left of nature here!
Shake a few leaves blown and sere;
Only grass will grow protesting
Something left of nature here!
Ah! the grim tombs closely serried,
Weirdly leaning moss-o'ergrown!
Here five deep the dead are buried
Underneath the weight of stone:
Weirdly leaning moss-o'ergrown!
Here five deep the dead are buried
Underneath the weight of stone:
Each of these a life recorded,
Human soul that agonized,
Outcasts all and over-lorded,
And forsaken and despised!
Human soul that agonized,
Outcasts all and over-lorded,
And forsaken and despised!
Bound in narrow bonds enclosing,
Here they lived and toiled and died,
Here at last were laid reposing,—
In the wall the suicide.
Here they lived and toiled and died,
Here at last were laid reposing,—
In the wall the suicide.
123
Stedfast stood they man by brother,
Asked no mercy, fought their fight,
Drawing closer each to other
In the dark and angry night.
Asked no mercy, fought their fight,
Drawing closer each to other
In the dark and angry night.
Lightly olden sorrows move us,
Needs the near to seem the true,
Howsoe'er these stones reprove us,
We shall fail of pity's due.
Needs the near to seem the true,
Howsoe'er these stones reprove us,
We shall fail of pity's due.
We should plant you round with flowers,
You grim army of grey stones,
Feed your want of love with ours,
And revere the ancient bones.
You grim army of grey stones,
Feed your want of love with ours,
And revere the ancient bones.
Exiles in the stormy haven,
Sleepless in the wakeless bed,
Could I read the story graven
On these annals of your dead,
Sleepless in the wakeless bed,
Could I read the story graven
On these annals of your dead,
Would it speak out stern and scorning
Of the burden long endured,
Left behind to meet the morning,
And the triumphing assured?
Of the burden long endured,
Left behind to meet the morning,
And the triumphing assured?
124
Let me deem the graven stone meant
Surely triumph more than pain,
And that need of our atonement
May be less by this your gain!
Surely triumph more than pain,
And that need of our atonement
May be less by this your gain!
Rugged types of lives heroic,
'Tis enough, the wild grass waves,
And a glory mute and stoic
Crowns your unforgotten graves.
'Tis enough, the wild grass waves,
And a glory mute and stoic
Crowns your unforgotten graves.
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