Feda with Other Poems Chiefly Lyrical. By Rennell Rodd ... With an Etching by Harper Pennington |
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VICTOR HUGO. |
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 | Feda with Other Poems |  |
130
VICTOR HUGO.
How shall we reverence the great soul dead?
Oh, not with tears, for he was old and tired,
And mutely welcome as a friend desired
Death laid the laurel on that ancient head;
And rightly well Death kissed those brows
In the fair year-time between
The moon of flowering lilac boughs
And the full summer green.
So unwithstood, so painlessly
The mystic summons stole
And stayed the royal heart, set free
That elemental soul.
Oh, not with tears, for he was old and tired,
And mutely welcome as a friend desired
Death laid the laurel on that ancient head;
And rightly well Death kissed those brows
In the fair year-time between
The moon of flowering lilac boughs
And the full summer green.
So unwithstood, so painlessly
The mystic summons stole
And stayed the royal heart, set free
That elemental soul.
How shall we yield him homage in his death!
This was a man eyed with a starry faith
That sees beyond the temporal dream, and knows
The Possible of God,—therefore, he chose
The upward, onward;—Prophet, with song's voice
Crying, the world is glorious, rejoice!
Crying, the pain is finite here, retrieve!
Crying, the soul is infinite, believe!
This was a man eyed with a starry faith
That sees beyond the temporal dream, and knows
The Possible of God,—therefore, he chose
The upward, onward;—Prophet, with song's voice
Crying, the world is glorious, rejoice!
Crying, the pain is finite here, retrieve!
Crying, the soul is infinite, believe!
131
This man made Truth his altar, by man's birth
Proclaimed man's right to joy; ceased not cry
The reign of falsehood has an end on earth,
Upward and on!—And therefore, when the lie
Gauded itself in purple, and when men fell down
To worship, this man's voice rose fearless high
And smote in lightning-flashes on the crown,
Accepting exile rather than renown;
Therefore, among the crownless kings
Write him the unsubdued,
The lyrist of all human strings,
The voice of herohood.
Proclaimed man's right to joy; ceased not cry
The reign of falsehood has an end on earth,
Upward and on!—And therefore, when the lie
Gauded itself in purple, and when men fell down
To worship, this man's voice rose fearless high
And smote in lightning-flashes on the crown,
Accepting exile rather than renown;
Therefore, among the crownless kings
Write him the unsubdued,
The lyrist of all human strings,
The voice of herohood.
This man was stern and tender, strong and mild;
The hero heart is nearest to the child;
He had the tears for human things, the touch
On mortal sorrow that availeth much:
For him was no man unredeemed or lost,
But love was lavished where the need was most;
This man took up the very outcast's shame
With such an echo that its note struck deep
Into the soul of Pity, and became
The poet pleader of all those that weep.
The hero heart is nearest to the child;
He had the tears for human things, the touch
On mortal sorrow that availeth much:
For him was no man unredeemed or lost,
But love was lavished where the need was most;
This man took up the very outcast's shame
With such an echo that its note struck deep
Into the soul of Pity, and became
The poet pleader of all those that weep.
132
This man loved all things gentle, children's eyes
And maiden whiteness and young motherhood;
Call him the tolerant and the wise!
Call him the human and the good!
He did not use his gift of song
To lie adrowze in meadows green,
And wail about what might have been,
His note was this,—redeem the wrong,
The fairest crowns were ever given
Are innocence and mirth,
Leave God to work in heaven,
Work thou with love on earth!
And maiden whiteness and young motherhood;
Call him the tolerant and the wise!
Call him the human and the good!
He did not use his gift of song
To lie adrowze in meadows green,
And wail about what might have been,
His note was this,—redeem the wrong,
The fairest crowns were ever given
Are innocence and mirth,
Leave God to work in heaven,
Work thou with love on earth!
He knew the mother nature, sang aloud
Light of the sun and shadow of the cloud;
He used the eagle's wing for his song's flight,
He took the thunder in his lips to smite,
He had the rock's resistance and the sea's
Glory of change, and the wind's melodies.
He waited till the days grew long,
Till May brought back the morning song;
And now his spirit's wings that seemed
To beat against the bars,
May wander where his daring dreamed
From world to world of stars.
Light of the sun and shadow of the cloud;
He used the eagle's wing for his song's flight,
He took the thunder in his lips to smite,
He had the rock's resistance and the sea's
Glory of change, and the wind's melodies.
He waited till the days grew long,
Till May brought back the morning song;
And now his spirit's wings that seemed
To beat against the bars,
133
From world to world of stars.
How shall we honour the great soul that's dead?
Oh, not this strife and clamour,—“Peace,” he said!
Join heart and hand, forbear to rave
Your petty strife at such a grave;
What matter where the mourners lay
The mask from which he fled away?
Take up his word and echo strong
His triumph-note for burial song,
Where human hearts are, there world-wide
His grave is with the glorified.
Oh, not this strife and clamour,—“Peace,” he said!
Join heart and hand, forbear to rave
Your petty strife at such a grave;
What matter where the mourners lay
The mask from which he fled away?
Take up his word and echo strong
His triumph-note for burial song,
Where human hearts are, there world-wide
His grave is with the glorified.
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