The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley [i.e. J. B. L. Warren] |
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| VII. |
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| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
THE TWO OLD KINGS
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 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
THE TWO OLD KINGS
A SKETCH AFTER KAULBACH
Once two ancient kings and comrades, princes of a kindred line,
Held high wassail until midnight in a castle on the Rhine.
Held high wassail until midnight in a castle on the Rhine.
There around them sate their vassals, peers and pages, knights and squires;
There they long replenished beakers in the glare of pinewood fires.
There they long replenished beakers in the glare of pinewood fires.
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As they feasted they remembered deeds and faces turned to dust,
Days, that as sepulchral armour long had lain besmeared with rust.
Days, that as sepulchral armour long had lain besmeared with rust.
In that hall forgotten faces rose above each feasting guest,
Dim hands trailing phantom garments, dim eyes long consigned to rest;
Dim hands trailing phantom garments, dim eyes long consigned to rest;
And one royal toper rising to his cousin reached the up,
And the other pledged his brother as he drank the Rhenish up.
And the other pledged his brother as he drank the Rhenish up.
In his sluggish veins the vintage glowed as fire and nobly ran;
Till his trembling hands grew stronger, and new courage flushed the man,
Till his trembling hands grew stronger, and new courage flushed the man,
Then he spake—“O brother, brother, we are met indeed at last
In this grey old keep, where-under roars the Rhine and howls the blast;
In this grey old keep, where-under roars the Rhine and howls the blast;
Sixty years of rolling water this great river of our land
Hath returned to father Ocean since I held thy kindred hand.
Hath returned to father Ocean since I held thy kindred hand.
We were each then boyish princes; time ran merry; life was gold,
And our fathers held the sceptres that our sons shall shortly hold;
And our fathers held the sceptres that our sons shall shortly hold;
Beardless boys, clear-lipped as maidens then, now see this hoary fell,
Whiter than the seven mountains, fleeces down for half an ell;
Whiter than the seven mountains, fleeces down for half an ell;
Flowing over throat and breast-plate, as a broken streamlet full
Freezes over some rock's shoulder in a triple icicle.
Freezes over some rock's shoulder in a triple icicle.
Cousin, thou art clothed with winter underneath thy golden crown.
Many lines of many sorrows seam thy temple, track thy frown.
Many lines of many sorrows seam thy temple, track thy frown.
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Old dear face with heavy eyebrows brooding o'er its buried joy;
As I search its saddened outlines hardly can I trace the boy;
As I search its saddened outlines hardly can I trace the boy;
As I left him in his April, as I find him in his fall,
Here where ice-bound heights are frozen in a rolling vapour's pall.
Here where ice-bound heights are frozen in a rolling vapour's pall.
Care—we care not; nature ripens, nature renders back to clay;
Shall we, weighed with eighty winters, whine ignobly for delay?
Shall we, weighed with eighty winters, whine ignobly for delay?
Rather chide the tardy summons, heroes harnessed for the gloom;
Shall we linger, soured faces, carping at a grandson's bloom,
Shall we linger, soured faces, carping at a grandson's bloom,
Envious of his heyday prowess?—We have memories full as fair,
We were young and we will tell it, gloating in a half despair.
We were young and we will tell it, gloating in a half despair.
Smiling at the vanished fancies, tho' our eyes are almost wet;
Scorning at the withered rosebuds, tho' we love their perfume yet.
Scorning at the withered rosebuds, tho' we love their perfume yet.
In the dry rose of remembrance yet one petal is not grey;
May the month was, woods were greening, birds were choral, meadows gay.
May the month was, woods were greening, birds were choral, meadows gay.
On the labyrinthine pine-woods rosy clots of dawn rode high;
They were hunters in the forest, on that morning, you and I;
They were hunters in the forest, on that morning, you and I;
Then no hart, gigantic quarry, lured us thro' the echoing green,—
I believe, since God made woman, bluer eyes have never been
I believe, since God made woman, bluer eyes have never been
Than her own, my pretty wood-dove's; as we found her singing there,
On her brow unrisen morning, pearls of night among her hair.
On her brow unrisen morning, pearls of night among her hair.
O my love, my perished beauty, tender lamb of mountain fold;
Little brow too wild and humble to sustain the queenly gold;
Little brow too wild and humble to sustain the queenly gold;
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How they rent me from thy bosom; when my royal father found,
That thy kisses were my empire; and all glory empty sound
That thy kisses were my empire; and all glory empty sound
To the joy of being near thee; thy least sigh was worth a throne;—
‘Take, O sire, this hateful glory, so thou leave me to mine own;
‘Take, O sire, this hateful glory, so thou leave me to mine own;
Let my brother have mine heirship—’ But they tore me from thy mouth,
Linked me to a frigid princess from the olives of the south.
Linked me to a frigid princess from the olives of the south.
We were wed; she bare me children; side by side in time to come,
Crowned we sate and clothed in purple up above the people's hum.
Crowned we sate and clothed in purple up above the people's hum.
When I rode to fight she kissed me coldly; and, when I returned,
Gave me duteous salutation as a wife should, greeting earned
Gave me duteous salutation as a wife should, greeting earned
By the victory I brought her. So we lived, and so she died.
She was not my love, ah, never; tho' she slumbered at my side.
She was not my love, ah, never; tho' she slumbered at my side.
At my side in every pageant moving with a stately mien;
Me she never loved, but only much she loved to be my queen.
Me she never loved, but only much she loved to be my queen.
Ah, my wood-girl, doth the rain beat rudely on thy cloister grave
In the little Saxon village? Doth the night as wildly rave,
In the little Saxon village? Doth the night as wildly rave,
As up here, with drops of tempest, rushing mist, and sailing cloud?—
Thro' the turmoil, lo, it rises one sweet still face in a shroud—
Thro' the turmoil, lo, it rises one sweet still face in a shroud—
Comrade, pledge to my beloved; drink, my brother in renown,
Drink and dash the crystal beaker in a thousand fragments down.
Drink and dash the crystal beaker in a thousand fragments down.
Hail! sweet ashes—it is spoken—on to me the goblet pass;
All is said—the cup lies broken—no vile lips shall touch this glass.”
All is said—the cup lies broken—no vile lips shall touch this glass.”
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As he ceased his cousin o'er him reached a cheering arm and spoke,
Pointing thro' the oriel casement at the dawning where it broke;
Pointing thro' the oriel casement at the dawning where it broke;
“Love is well, O royal brother; nothing is more sweet in grace,
Than the tear-drop which an old man sheds upon dead memory's face.
Than the tear-drop which an old man sheds upon dead memory's face.
Love is well, regret is lovely: but and if our day is done,
See, there rises ampler promise to new men with yonder sun.
See, there rises ampler promise to new men with yonder sun.
When our years that ripened roses only send sepulchral weeds,
Shall we find no consolation thinking on our famous deeds?
Shall we find no consolation thinking on our famous deeds?
Strike a sterner chord, to music heroes let us march along;
Let us to the grave go pacing with a sturdier battle song.
Let us to the grave go pacing with a sturdier battle song.
Drink we to our dead dear comrades, loyal men, of iron might;
Who with us in front of onset felt the ecstasy of fight
Who with us in front of onset felt the ecstasy of fight
Brace their sinews; for the sweetest love that ever yet was won,
Pales beside this, as a taper wan before the regal sun.
Pales beside this, as a taper wan before the regal sun.
Drink we to our high ambition; drink the triumph of our throne!”
But the other aged monarch answered in an altered tone.
But the other aged monarch answered in an altered tone.
“Five fair kingdoms left my father; two the conquest of his spear;
I have seen their vines uprooted and their cities, red with fear,
I have seen their vines uprooted and their cities, red with fear,
Lurid heaps of smoke and cinders. I have heard the orphan's wail;
I have seen the giant Famine sitting roofless in the hail.
I have seen the giant Famine sitting roofless in the hail.
Of my father's laurel chaplet I have let two bay leaves fall,
I have lost two realms, whose banners flout me in my vacant hall.
I have lost two realms, whose banners flout me in my vacant hall.
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And the three remaining kingdoms seem to scorn my feeble sway;
And I hear a palace murmur, that they count my life delay.
And I hear a palace murmur, that they count my life delay.
Here my huge sons stand and whisper, ‘Surely he has reigned too long;
There his armour hangs rust-eaten, there his bugle, mute from song,
There his armour hangs rust-eaten, there his bugle, mute from song,
Never more shall waken echoes. Surely he has ruled enough,
Mark the leather of his gauntlet, how the worms are in the stuff;
Mark the leather of his gauntlet, how the worms are in the stuff;
How the moths have marred his mantle! There his empty baldric lies.
Shall we longer make obeisance to an old thing we despise?’
Shall we longer make obeisance to an old thing we despise?’
Wistful each one nods and gazes, as along the downward gloom
I descend with feeble paces to the children of the tomb.”
I descend with feeble paces to the children of the tomb.”
“Nay, my brother,” spoke the other, “these things are an old man's due;
Faces come and faces perish and old races cede to new.
Faces come and faces perish and old races cede to new.
Comrade, cheer; tho' disappointment every year remaining brings,
Shall we die faint-hearted soldiers, shall we pass despisèd kings?
Shall we die faint-hearted soldiers, shall we pass despisèd kings?
Friends may fail and Love forsake us, Hope may falter, Faith decay,
And our pleasant dreams may open wings whereon to flee away.
And our pleasant dreams may open wings whereon to flee away.
Wine can stir the languid pulses to the ripeness of their youth,
Flashing back an old man's mistress in her radiance, in her truth;
Flashing back an old man's mistress in her radiance, in her truth;
Wine can make us half immortal:—nay, the years are out of tune,
Since the whispering meadows heard us whispering in the ancient June.
Since the whispering meadows heard us whispering in the ancient June.
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Let them go: we pass to silence, and our deeds are dream and nought—
Nought? Yet dreams whose recollection holds us heroes, heart and thought;
Nought? Yet dreams whose recollection holds us heroes, heart and thought;
Hark, our veterans there below us talk the same refrain as we,
Harping on a faded love-song every soul in his degree;
Harping on a faded love-song every soul in his degree;
Draining out an old experience, how an angel's golden wand
Struck the rock, and found the waters at the thirsty soul's command.
Struck the rock, and found the waters at the thirsty soul's command.
Then how purely came the torrent, till the devil changed the draught;
And the drinker rose up poisoned, with a worldling's iron craft.
And the drinker rose up poisoned, with a worldling's iron craft.
How the broken years of passion cast him into sterner mould,
How the icy frost of fashion turned each genial impulse cold;
How the icy frost of fashion turned each genial impulse cold;
King and peer and mailèd captain, equal manhood, diverse grade,
All imperfect, hardly trembling on the skirts of lengthened shade;
All imperfect, hardly trembling on the skirts of lengthened shade;
Bound together, king and soldier, onwards to the land unseen,
Where the ancient heroes slumber with grey faces, cold and keen.
Where the ancient heroes slumber with grey faces, cold and keen.
And, tho' we shall part to-morrow, ne'er on earth to meet again,
I beyond the Northern mountains, thou along the Southern plain—
I beyond the Northern mountains, thou along the Southern plain—
See! that morrow of our parting breaks upon our wassail feast,
Flooding on the wreathen archways early splendour from the East—
Flooding on the wreathen archways early splendour from the East—
Yet still drink we our next meeting, drink it deep in beakers seven,
Brother, ended is our banquet, we will hold the next in heaven!”
Brother, ended is our banquet, we will hold the next in heaven!”
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |