Lays of France (Founded on The Lays of Marie.) By Arthur O'Shaughnessy. Second Edition |
 |
THE
LAY OF THE TWO LOVERS. |
 | Lays of France |  |
43
THE LAY OF THE TWO LOVERS.
44
O Love, where is the bed we made
In scented wood-ways for sweet sin?
The sun was with us and the shade;
The warm blue covered us in:
In scented wood-ways for sweet sin?
The sun was with us and the shade;
The warm blue covered us in:
All men their curse on us had laid—
Finding had slain us both therein;
But, summer with us, not afraid
Were we to love and sin.
Finding had slain us both therein;
But, summer with us, not afraid
Were we to love and sin.
O Love, the crushed place is quite fair;
Leaves have sprung back and flowers grown there;
The blithe trees no long record bore;
The flown bird knoweth no more;
Leaves have sprung back and flowers grown there;
The blithe trees no long record bore;
The flown bird knoweth no more;
The hard one never found our lair;—
We are not slain, love,—we are fair,
And love, ay, as we loved before:
—Let us go back once more!
We are not slain, love,—we are fair,
And love, ay, as we loved before:
—Let us go back once more!
45
Lady, is there indeed no place
Beyond the world for thee and me?
Where we may love a little space,
And joy as any flower or tree
That loves the sun; and half forget
That life our enemy hath been,
And fate a bloodhound keenly set
To hunt us on through waste and green
And night and day and year and year,
Lest we should hallow and make dear
One spot of bitter earth with bliss?
Is there indeed, beyond the day,
Beyond the eve, beyond the sun,
No dreamed-of place where we shall kiss,
Ay, kiss and put all fear away,
Death tarrying till our kiss is done?
Beyond the world for thee and me?
Where we may love a little space,
And joy as any flower or tree
That loves the sun; and half forget
That life our enemy hath been,
And fate a bloodhound keenly set
To hunt us on through waste and green
And night and day and year and year,
Lest we should hallow and make dear
One spot of bitter earth with bliss?
Is there indeed, beyond the day,
Beyond the eve, beyond the sun,
No dreamed-of place where we shall kiss,
46
Death tarrying till our kiss is done?
Since I have loved thee, I have known
Their hard irrevocable doom—
Ah, love,—mine henceforth and thine own—
Whose lives are re-born in the womb
Of love: it seems all common food
That erst might feed them shall no more
Bring to them any taste or good;
But they shall go in hunger sore,
Seeking some manna that scarce falls
On earth; and, surely, their lives long,
Full of sad secrets the world calls
By names of shame, shall seem a wrong
To them and to the world. For, sure,
Both I and thee, whom this fair bower
And frail night spells somewhile secure,
Whom a thin heaven of scent and flower
Doth feebly part from outer deaths
Awaiting sore and manifold
With stings of hate and long fierce breaths
Of cursing,—small share do we hold
Of any meanest privilege
To have and use our common lives
With joy; but, rather, this love drives
Our doomed days cowering to some edge
Of loveless strong humanity;
And we are kin with some who lie
Slain shamefully on bitter grounds
Where grew their furtive flower of sweet;
And some who, foiling the strong hounds
Of tracking hate, have fled for meet
Safe cover where the trees held shade,
Or grass and thornbush knew the feet
Of many a hunted thing afraid
Of the sun's smile; who, through great plight
With death and very choice to die,
Have rapturously cared to buy
One little year, one day, one night
Of their lives' confiscated own,
Wherein to taste indeed of love
The great forbidden good unknown,—
Yea, these may call us nought above
Brother or sister; and take hands
Of us and lead us, as they shall,
Joined ever to their fameless bands
Who, of all ages and all lands,
Do bear one sad memorial
That here love hath no heaven at all.
Their hard irrevocable doom—
Ah, love,—mine henceforth and thine own—
Whose lives are re-born in the womb
Of love: it seems all common food
That erst might feed them shall no more
Bring to them any taste or good;
But they shall go in hunger sore,
Seeking some manna that scarce falls
On earth; and, surely, their lives long,
Full of sad secrets the world calls
By names of shame, shall seem a wrong
To them and to the world. For, sure,
Both I and thee, whom this fair bower
And frail night spells somewhile secure,
Whom a thin heaven of scent and flower
Doth feebly part from outer deaths
Awaiting sore and manifold
With stings of hate and long fierce breaths
Of cursing,—small share do we hold
47
To have and use our common lives
With joy; but, rather, this love drives
Our doomed days cowering to some edge
Of loveless strong humanity;
And we are kin with some who lie
Slain shamefully on bitter grounds
Where grew their furtive flower of sweet;
And some who, foiling the strong hounds
Of tracking hate, have fled for meet
Safe cover where the trees held shade,
Or grass and thornbush knew the feet
Of many a hunted thing afraid
Of the sun's smile; who, through great plight
With death and very choice to die,
Have rapturously cared to buy
One little year, one day, one night
Of their lives' confiscated own,
Wherein to taste indeed of love
The great forbidden good unknown,—
Yea, these may call us nought above
Brother or sister; and take hands
Of us and lead us, as they shall,
48
Who, of all ages and all lands,
Do bear one sad memorial
That here love hath no heaven at all.
My love, I have a lay well fit
For me to sing and thee to hear;
For they of whom I find it writ
Did long time, amid hope and fear,
Love secretly; having of fate
The seeming fair things and good state
Dull men are mocked with; but no place
Or liberty, by day or night,
To look upon that other face
Life had for them shedding strange light
Upon their inward thoughts. In fair
Green midst of mountain-lands they dwelt,
In Val de Pistre; for 'twas there
A certain king had sometime built
His castle. She, of whom I sing,
Was e'en the princess and his child,
Whom he would marry, coveting
To strengthen by harsh means or mild
His hated sway, to some hard lord
Of neighbouring hosts. But love had wrought
So fair a miracle and taught
Such strength to her, that no sharp sword
Might have compelled her to this thing.
And now a year was he besought
Of many, who, with pitying,
Beheld her beauty and the death
Love surely did intend to bring
Upon her, yea to the last breath,
That he would even let her wed
The fair youth, whose, alive or dead,
She could not fail to be. Alas,
He grew the harder, and took rage
Against them: so it came to pass
Their two lives, full of sad presage,
And faint with thoughts despairing fret,
Were leaguered round about with fear;—
Yea, fear was as a demon set
About their steps both far and near
In every moment, in the dark
And in the day: the future year,
That once had glimmered from afar
With many a beacon-ray and spark,
Like distant heavens of some star,
Was changed and faded now—yea, changed,
As though with long dim ambushed gleams
Of deaths in shadowy phalanx ranged
Against their coming days: their dreams
Were very heavy with the clank
And echo the chained days still made
Around them; and oft-times they shrank
From sleep, as though hard hands were laid
Upon the wide unguarded heart
To read each open thrill and start.
For me to sing and thee to hear;
For they of whom I find it writ
Did long time, amid hope and fear,
Love secretly; having of fate
The seeming fair things and good state
Dull men are mocked with; but no place
Or liberty, by day or night,
To look upon that other face
Life had for them shedding strange light
Upon their inward thoughts. In fair
Green midst of mountain-lands they dwelt,
In Val de Pistre; for 'twas there
A certain king had sometime built
His castle. She, of whom I sing,
Was e'en the princess and his child,
Whom he would marry, coveting
To strengthen by harsh means or mild
49
Of neighbouring hosts. But love had wrought
So fair a miracle and taught
Such strength to her, that no sharp sword
Might have compelled her to this thing.
And now a year was he besought
Of many, who, with pitying,
Beheld her beauty and the death
Love surely did intend to bring
Upon her, yea to the last breath,
That he would even let her wed
The fair youth, whose, alive or dead,
She could not fail to be. Alas,
He grew the harder, and took rage
Against them: so it came to pass
Their two lives, full of sad presage,
And faint with thoughts despairing fret,
Were leaguered round about with fear;—
Yea, fear was as a demon set
About their steps both far and near
In every moment, in the dark
And in the day: the future year,
That once had glimmered from afar
50
Like distant heavens of some star,
Was changed and faded now—yea, changed,
As though with long dim ambushed gleams
Of deaths in shadowy phalanx ranged
Against their coming days: their dreams
Were very heavy with the clank
And echo the chained days still made
Around them; and oft-times they shrank
From sleep, as though hard hands were laid
Upon the wide unguarded heart
To read each open thrill and start.
They had been happy, yea, in truth
A few sweet hours of precious youth,
Ere the world found them. Once and more,
The rich effusion of some kiss
Had warmed shy scents the roses bore,
Making the full heart of some noon
Their own most strangely, in a bliss
No summer knew or felt before
They loved; and, once and more, the swoon
Of eve had lengthened out some joy
Of theirs, delaying the hard chill
And dim affright that would destroy
Too shortly such a day, until
The blithe eternal nightingale
Had seen and known, and did not fail
To sing that, though hard fate should kill
The twain that midnight, they had taste
Of sweet, for one rich day of life.
Many a garden place was rife
With tender record of fond waste
Of hours and broken words and sighs,
In the long innocence when love
Kept fearful fetters on their eyes
And lips and hearts, the more to prove
His strong life-filling flower, one day
A bursting blossom not forborne.
But now the fair earth turned away
Her summer from them: on no morn
Did shy beams, stealing from the sun,
Bring early promise of joy born
To fill them till that day was done
In some close paradise of bloom,
Where love had made them a fair room
With unbetraying bird and tree
And sleek scared fawn.—O but to see
The warm bright chambers under leaf
Sun-streaked and gilded morn and noon;
The burrow under the arched sheaf
Whose crowned heads nodded to some tune
Of wordless wavy motion, dim
And dense with harvest scent that drew
The brown bee blundering o'er the rim
To drone about them the noon through!
O but to see, yea, once again,
Though but to weep, the bed they left
Of prest and tumbled leaves with stain
Of fair crushed flowers, the day he reft
The first long willing bliss from her,
And she felt safe to touch and stir
The strange and gracious hair he had
That once so lured her, as a thing
Whereon love's blessing seemed to cling!—
Ah, she had said, it would be sad
For her, then in the world, when time
Were come that she could no more touch
His warm drooped head, nor draw the rhyme
Of soft words from his lips once more,
Watching and loving overmuch
Each passionate corner of his mouth:
And now 'twas almost come, that sore
Too bitter time of her heart's drouth.
A few sweet hours of precious youth,
Ere the world found them. Once and more,
The rich effusion of some kiss
Had warmed shy scents the roses bore,
Making the full heart of some noon
Their own most strangely, in a bliss
No summer knew or felt before
They loved; and, once and more, the swoon
Of eve had lengthened out some joy
51
And dim affright that would destroy
Too shortly such a day, until
The blithe eternal nightingale
Had seen and known, and did not fail
To sing that, though hard fate should kill
The twain that midnight, they had taste
Of sweet, for one rich day of life.
Many a garden place was rife
With tender record of fond waste
Of hours and broken words and sighs,
In the long innocence when love
Kept fearful fetters on their eyes
And lips and hearts, the more to prove
His strong life-filling flower, one day
A bursting blossom not forborne.
But now the fair earth turned away
Her summer from them: on no morn
Did shy beams, stealing from the sun,
Bring early promise of joy born
To fill them till that day was done
In some close paradise of bloom,
Where love had made them a fair room
52
And sleek scared fawn.—O but to see
The warm bright chambers under leaf
Sun-streaked and gilded morn and noon;
The burrow under the arched sheaf
Whose crowned heads nodded to some tune
Of wordless wavy motion, dim
And dense with harvest scent that drew
The brown bee blundering o'er the rim
To drone about them the noon through!
O but to see, yea, once again,
Though but to weep, the bed they left
Of prest and tumbled leaves with stain
Of fair crushed flowers, the day he reft
The first long willing bliss from her,
And she felt safe to touch and stir
The strange and gracious hair he had
That once so lured her, as a thing
Whereon love's blessing seemed to cling!—
Ah, she had said, it would be sad
For her, then in the world, when time
Were come that she could no more touch
His warm drooped head, nor draw the rhyme
53
Watching and loving overmuch
Each passionate corner of his mouth:
And now 'twas almost come, that sore
Too bitter time of her heart's drouth.
Their place was no more in the bloom;
All ruined was it; and their doom
Was a thing sung of by the bird
That long had caught his rhapsody
Straight out of their charmed thinking, heard
And felt like some strong melody
The corn or trees made, wordless, wild,
Most wonderful: in the grey shade,
The searched and trampled solitude
Still bore the curses that defiled
Its echoes; all the mournful glade
Had heard dread shouts and voices rude;
Yea, the whole country no more had
One shelter of sweet green, one wood,
One safe path bright for them, not one;
But bitter seemed its smile, and sad
And like an alien land it grew,
That put scorn of them in its sun,
And death lurked in its shade they knew.
All ruined was it; and their doom
Was a thing sung of by the bird
That long had caught his rhapsody
Straight out of their charmed thinking, heard
And felt like some strong melody
The corn or trees made, wordless, wild,
Most wonderful: in the grey shade,
The searched and trampled solitude
Still bore the curses that defiled
Its echoes; all the mournful glade
Had heard dread shouts and voices rude;
Yea, the whole country no more had
One shelter of sweet green, one wood,
One safe path bright for them, not one;
But bitter seemed its smile, and sad
And like an alien land it grew,
54
And death lurked in its shade they knew.
And now Death only let them draw
Each unto each, when most they drew
Nigh to himself: he only saw
Dread lonesome places where they came
In the dark, beautiful and white
Beyond their wont; oft-times blue flame
Quite clothed the marsh plants, and the night
Down there felt horror, seeing that one
So clasped and revelled on the slight
Soft splendours of a woman—death
Hard over him as a prey won—
Death stretching to him with armed hands
Nigh clutching at the throat where breath
Quivered so rapturously.
Each unto each, when most they drew
Nigh to himself: he only saw
Dread lonesome places where they came
In the dark, beautiful and white
Beyond their wont; oft-times blue flame
Quite clothed the marsh plants, and the night
Down there felt horror, seeing that one
So clasped and revelled on the slight
Soft splendours of a woman—death
Hard over him as a prey won—
Death stretching to him with armed hands
Nigh clutching at the throat where breath
Quivered so rapturously.
Ah, love,
There was no path to other lands,
Save only by the mountain steep
And desolate, that stood above
A mighty way and seemed to sleep
On through the year in storm or rain.
And yet, thou must be sure, so vain
The fair world seemed, they oft would pray
Their tenderest fate might show them plain,
Through some safe chasm, the merest way
To any desert of the earth,
Far from that country of their birth
Where they were aliens. Many a hope
Had fallen from them.
There was no path to other lands,
Save only by the mountain steep
And desolate, that stood above
A mighty way and seemed to sleep
On through the year in storm or rain.
55
The fair world seemed, they oft would pray
Their tenderest fate might show them plain,
Through some safe chasm, the merest way
To any desert of the earth,
Far from that country of their birth
Where they were aliens. Many a hope
Had fallen from them.
Fearful seemed
That mountain in the distance; slope
On slope of green they counted high
Upon its side—down which there streamed
Whole rivers fallen from the sky:
But, sometimes, they had even dreamed
There was a way to heaven, past
The topmost crag and precipice;
Often a golden cloud was cast
Across it bright, and like a piece
Of purest heaven it floated there
And faded not: but in the fair
Angelic moonlight quite a strange
Most holy smile seemed resting wide
Upon its height, working some change
Of snowy mystery: one noontide
They saw high up there, nigh the sun,
Fair arched paths, gleaming every one
As though the winged angels trod
Them oft-time going up to God.
That mountain in the distance; slope
On slope of green they counted high
Upon its side—down which there streamed
Whole rivers fallen from the sky:
But, sometimes, they had even dreamed
There was a way to heaven, past
The topmost crag and precipice;
Often a golden cloud was cast
Across it bright, and like a piece
Of purest heaven it floated there
And faded not: but in the fair
Angelic moonlight quite a strange
Most holy smile seemed resting wide
Upon its height, working some change
56
They saw high up there, nigh the sun,
Fair arched paths, gleaming every one
As though the winged angels trod
Them oft-time going up to God.
Then, for no better thing they yearned,—
Seeing the whole green world below,
Yea, and as far as they might go
Fleeing for ever, was all turned
Against their love,—than to be there,
Quite saved above the ken and reach
Of any man, where each to each
Might yield some latest hour more fair
Than all life past, and truly will
The utter breath to love, until
Some charmed sleep, wonderful and soft,
With deep strange soothings and long dreams
Of wings and golden miles of light,
Should take them; wherefrom, perhaps, oft
Awaking before death, warm gleams
Of the same sun would show them, bright,
The unchanged earth beneath them yet,
Their two selves, and the broad waste green,
Full of light singing wind and hum
Ineffable, where to forget
All but one love they twain were come.
Seeing the whole green world below,
Yea, and as far as they might go
Fleeing for ever, was all turned
Against their love,—than to be there,
Quite saved above the ken and reach
Of any man, where each to each
Might yield some latest hour more fair
Than all life past, and truly will
The utter breath to love, until
Some charmed sleep, wonderful and soft,
With deep strange soothings and long dreams
Of wings and golden miles of light,
Should take them; wherefrom, perhaps, oft
Awaking before death, warm gleams
Of the same sun would show them, bright,
The unchanged earth beneath them yet,
57
Full of light singing wind and hum
Ineffable, where to forget
All but one love they twain were come.
And now that love of theirs, I ween,
Had even brought them, through fond sin,
Past many a death that land decreed;
And the king strove a while between
A voice at heart that entered in
Like a returning bird indeed
By disused unfamiliar ways,
With pleading overmuch of days
When she, now scorned and half condemned,
Seemed yet his child fair and unshamed,
A perfect promiser of joys;—
And the loud whisper of the land
And the unanswered urging voice
Of many a counseller who planned
This way and that to save the law:
But day by day could only draw
One thing the nearer to them—death.
Had even brought them, through fond sin,
Past many a death that land decreed;
And the king strove a while between
A voice at heart that entered in
Like a returning bird indeed
By disused unfamiliar ways,
With pleading overmuch of days
When she, now scorned and half condemned,
Seemed yet his child fair and unshamed,
A perfect promiser of joys;—
And the loud whisper of the land
And the unanswered urging voice
Of many a counseller who planned
This way and that to save the law:
But day by day could only draw
One thing the nearer to them—death.
58
Yea, as I singing of this lay,
—Knowing myself e'en such as they
Of whom I sing, one changed and filled
And lifted by a great pure love,
That is much stronger than aught willed
By me, and seemeth much above
This world,—as I do feel my heart
Rise many a time and glow and yearn
Like a thing doomed and set apart
For perfect sacrifice,—I say
As one who learneth and shall learn,
Those lovers and their love so fair
Had condemnation from the day
The bitter world began; both there,
And in all lands beneath the sun,
And here as there, and now as then,
Other than this had not been done
By the world unto them: for lo,
They be few women and few men,
—Of thousands here that come and go,
By life-long ways named virtue, shame
Sin, innocence, mightiness or fame,
Whither I know not,—few they be
That reach or touch, conceive or see,
Through all mock strivings, kisses, prayers
Cold passions, measured lusts of theirs,
This one love—led to every way;
Which whoso winneth, from that day
Hath heavens within him all unfurled
And clear sights of the other side
Of death. But half loves in the world,
And lusts, the dead roots that divide
From the spurned cast off flower, are great,
And many as mankind, crouch down
Timid and loathsome, without fate
Or hope or pang or passionate crown,
Dying among the deaths and days.
And these ignobly safe, being shorn
Of all the measureless curse or praise
Of love's unmeasured futures—born
Inevitably to the whole
True daring venture of the soul
Eternal through its chosen hell
Or chosen heaven,—these do possess
The altered earth, first peopled well
By love's first self; now to oppress
His straggling offspring, like some rare
And wingèd alien, having share
Of unknown being with the blue
And supernatural places fair.
—Knowing myself e'en such as they
Of whom I sing, one changed and filled
And lifted by a great pure love,
That is much stronger than aught willed
By me, and seemeth much above
This world,—as I do feel my heart
Rise many a time and glow and yearn
Like a thing doomed and set apart
For perfect sacrifice,—I say
As one who learneth and shall learn,
Those lovers and their love so fair
Had condemnation from the day
The bitter world began; both there,
And in all lands beneath the sun,
And here as there, and now as then,
Other than this had not been done
By the world unto them: for lo,
They be few women and few men,
—Of thousands here that come and go,
By life-long ways named virtue, shame
Sin, innocence, mightiness or fame,
59
That reach or touch, conceive or see,
Through all mock strivings, kisses, prayers
Cold passions, measured lusts of theirs,
This one love—led to every way;
Which whoso winneth, from that day
Hath heavens within him all unfurled
And clear sights of the other side
Of death. But half loves in the world,
And lusts, the dead roots that divide
From the spurned cast off flower, are great,
And many as mankind, crouch down
Timid and loathsome, without fate
Or hope or pang or passionate crown,
Dying among the deaths and days.
And these ignobly safe, being shorn
Of all the measureless curse or praise
Of love's unmeasured futures—born
Inevitably to the whole
True daring venture of the soul
Eternal through its chosen hell
Or chosen heaven,—these do possess
60
By love's first self; now to oppress
His straggling offspring, like some rare
And wingèd alien, having share
Of unknown being with the blue
And supernatural places fair.
—O Lady mine is this not true?
Were it not better I and you
Had found some straight way long ago
Up to the place we seem to know
With all our mingled being, hard by
In new parts of our destiny,
Or even dwelt in, as doth seem,
In parts so far they form a dream
Within and round us?—Mistress mine,
Since here the charmed space of a vine,
A few leaves shade, is all love's bower,
And all the time one reckless hour
Of treacherous night, wherein a cry
Too sharp amid our ecstasy
Must surely doom us; and since now,
Ay, more and more, we do avow
No wild wide earth were wide enough,
But the immenseness of our love
Must have its ending in some star,—
Were it not even better far
We had found freedom the first days,
And earned with our first kiss's breath
Some easy momentary death?
Were it not better I and you
Had found some straight way long ago
Up to the place we seem to know
With all our mingled being, hard by
In new parts of our destiny,
Or even dwelt in, as doth seem,
In parts so far they form a dream
Within and round us?—Mistress mine,
Since here the charmed space of a vine,
A few leaves shade, is all love's bower,
And all the time one reckless hour
Of treacherous night, wherein a cry
Too sharp amid our ecstasy
Must surely doom us; and since now,
61
No wild wide earth were wide enough,
But the immenseness of our love
Must have its ending in some star,—
Were it not even better far
We had found freedom the first days,
And earned with our first kiss's breath
Some easy momentary death?
O to wake strangely in fair ways
Past every bar of death and birth,
Launched high above all law and hate
Or memory of the finished fate
Of sloughed pasts in a cast off earth,—
And bare and shameless through the whole
Eternal unreprovèd soul,
To lead on, formed into its form
And fated with its fate, this strong
Compelling passion, great and long,
And one in me and thee!—The storm
Of all the blind divine first things,
Whose vast eternal wills and wings
Bear them fulfilling, age on age,
The nameless elemental rage
Of the same lusts, loves, hungers, thirsts,
That God who gave can ne'er assuage—
The storm of the great universe,
With all its tidal throes and bursts
Of passionate being and excess,
Should set us free of fate and curse
And shame and tyranny and stress
Of day and night—me to possess
Thy soul and body for no less
Than thine and mine eternity,
And thee to give thyself to me
Through all thou art or hast to be.
Past every bar of death and birth,
Launched high above all law and hate
Or memory of the finished fate
Of sloughed pasts in a cast off earth,—
And bare and shameless through the whole
Eternal unreprovèd soul,
To lead on, formed into its form
And fated with its fate, this strong
Compelling passion, great and long,
And one in me and thee!—The storm
Of all the blind divine first things,
Whose vast eternal wills and wings
Bear them fulfilling, age on age,
62
Of the same lusts, loves, hungers, thirsts,
That God who gave can ne'er assuage—
The storm of the great universe,
With all its tidal throes and bursts
Of passionate being and excess,
Should set us free of fate and curse
And shame and tyranny and stress
Of day and night—me to possess
Thy soul and body for no less
Than thine and mine eternity,
And thee to give thyself to me
Through all thou art or hast to be.
I wonder, Love, in what sad way
Of sudden bitter pang or shame,
The world, that calleth by a name
Of sin this love of ours, shall slay,
Thinking to end us?—On that day,
Shall we have dreamed of death at all?—
Shall we be sundered for the space
Of some blind fearful moment, face
Unsoothed by face, so that we fall
Alone through the first dreary waste,
Amazed with sickening doubt of death
And love and fate?—Or shall the breath
Of our two beings, in their blithe haste
Escaping, meet, ere yet the taste
Of holy agony hath ceased?
Of sudden bitter pang or shame,
The world, that calleth by a name
Of sin this love of ours, shall slay,
Thinking to end us?—On that day,
Shall we have dreamed of death at all?—
Shall we be sundered for the space
Of some blind fearful moment, face
Unsoothed by face, so that we fall
63
Amazed with sickening doubt of death
And love and fate?—Or shall the breath
Of our two beings, in their blithe haste
Escaping, meet, ere yet the taste
Of holy agony hath ceased?
Ah, well could I desire that they—
The twain whose one love was released
In Val de Pistre, years gone by,
Of whom I sing now—lest we try
This perilled hour with too much bliss—
Were e'en ourselves. Lady, one kiss,—
And I will finish now my lay.
The twain whose one love was released
In Val de Pistre, years gone by,
Of whom I sing now—lest we try
This perilled hour with too much bliss—
Were e'en ourselves. Lady, one kiss,—
And I will finish now my lay.
Though men and women in their land
Did wear the lure of softened looks,
And spake love-speeches, and laid hand
In wedded hand, and read in books
Much gracious and real lore of love;—
Yea, though they were right fair withal,
And bore rich outward shows enough
To cheat love's self with welcoming,—
Yet dwelt they, men and women all,
In hells of their own fashioning,
Where golden good of life was turned
To each foul contrary, and love
The true god, some rare day returned
In stainless perfect semblance bright,
Looked shamed and hideous in the light
Of long age-honoured lies, above
One heart's weak will to change or break.
Long years ago some fatal snake
Had crept among their hearts, and shed
The venom of false shames and dread
Between them all; and now the heart
Lied back unto the heart that lied;
And life lived false with life and died
Faining a faithless sanctity:
Yea, so that now, for each man's part
In life and good, God's changeless sun,
The green gay earth, the blithe blue sky
That spake unchanged of love did lie.
Did wear the lure of softened looks,
And spake love-speeches, and laid hand
In wedded hand, and read in books
Much gracious and real lore of love;—
Yea, though they were right fair withal,
And bore rich outward shows enough
To cheat love's self with welcoming,—
64
In hells of their own fashioning,
Where golden good of life was turned
To each foul contrary, and love
The true god, some rare day returned
In stainless perfect semblance bright,
Looked shamed and hideous in the light
Of long age-honoured lies, above
One heart's weak will to change or break.
Long years ago some fatal snake
Had crept among their hearts, and shed
The venom of false shames and dread
Between them all; and now the heart
Lied back unto the heart that lied;
And life lived false with life and died
Faining a faithless sanctity:
Yea, so that now, for each man's part
In life and good, God's changeless sun,
The green gay earth, the blithe blue sky
That spake unchanged of love did lie.
And, therefore, very few or none
Of all those men and women, framed,
As even they two and as we,
To know love and be known unshamed
Of love, had eyes at all to see
Or hearts to feel or voice to cry
That these were very far from sin
And had done nought that they should die
Like caitiffs: rather all could say
Some slight thing treasured up within,
Condemning them from some past day
When they but used the sun and bloom
And rapture of their frank fair world,
And knew not that its least perfume
And lightest joy were long become
Things chained and confiscate. Back-hurled
Upon their hearts in cruel hard
Accusing, knew they now e'en some
Of their own sweet words, whispered low
Where they were fit, for skies fair starred
And guileless birds and leaves to know
And take for music, not for ears
Of those who turn sweet words to spears
Against the heart from whence they flow.
Of all those men and women, framed,
65
To know love and be known unshamed
Of love, had eyes at all to see
Or hearts to feel or voice to cry
That these were very far from sin
And had done nought that they should die
Like caitiffs: rather all could say
Some slight thing treasured up within,
Condemning them from some past day
When they but used the sun and bloom
And rapture of their frank fair world,
And knew not that its least perfume
And lightest joy were long become
Things chained and confiscate. Back-hurled
Upon their hearts in cruel hard
Accusing, knew they now e'en some
Of their own sweet words, whispered low
Where they were fit, for skies fair starred
And guileless birds and leaves to know
And take for music, not for ears
Of those who turn sweet words to spears
Against the heart from whence they flow.
66
And, truly, since the king had set
His utter curse upon the twain,
And would not have the law be let
From punishing, they had been slain
With common sinners the first day—
None finding in his heart a way
To save them,—only for this thing,
That she was daughter of the king
And might not fall beneath the hand
Of any subject in the land.
So, many a hopeless day, meantime,
Was added to their numbered days.
His utter curse upon the twain,
And would not have the law be let
From punishing, they had been slain
With common sinners the first day—
None finding in his heart a way
To save them,—only for this thing,
That she was daughter of the king
And might not fall beneath the hand
Of any subject in the land.
So, many a hopeless day, meantime,
Was added to their numbered days.
At last spake some one that their crime
Should be for God to take the right
To punish or forgive, in ways
Of some ordeal in the sight
Of all. And being nigh the year's
Great day of meeting and of sports,
When trials many and of sorts
Most various did engage all fears
And hopes,—the king made this decree;
That, whosoe'er the man might be
That claimed the princess for his love,
He should that day be man enough
To bear her strongly in his arms
Quite up the mountain, and again
To bring her back,—as through all harms
And o'er steep mountains of the pain
Of life a man must truly bear
The woman whom he hath:—for clear
It seemed, the toil, so far, alas,
All simple strength of man did pass,
None other could have heart to try
But he whose love to live or die
With her was equal.
Should be for God to take the right
To punish or forgive, in ways
Of some ordeal in the sight
Of all. And being nigh the year's
Great day of meeting and of sports,
When trials many and of sorts
67
And hopes,—the king made this decree;
That, whosoe'er the man might be
That claimed the princess for his love,
He should that day be man enough
To bear her strongly in his arms
Quite up the mountain, and again
To bring her back,—as through all harms
And o'er steep mountains of the pain
Of life a man must truly bear
The woman whom he hath:—for clear
It seemed, the toil, so far, alas,
All simple strength of man did pass,
None other could have heart to try
But he whose love to live or die
With her was equal.
On the night
Before that day, the common voice
Of folk who scarcely had a choice,
So they beheld the morrow's sight,
Between the ending well or ill
Of these, did on all sides declare
That, unless God should take the will
To save those lovers, and prepare
Some wondrous miracle to show
His mercy on them, by their sure
Disaster, quickly all must know
Their way was neither good nor pure.
Before that day, the common voice
Of folk who scarcely had a choice,
So they beheld the morrow's sight,
Between the ending well or ill
Of these, did on all sides declare
That, unless God should take the will
68
Some wondrous miracle to show
His mercy on them, by their sure
Disaster, quickly all must know
Their way was neither good nor pure.
But, on that night, without a fear,
As though sure happiness were near,
The two who loved vowed each to each
The extreme day left or the year
Of life to come; and death could teach
No unknown grief to them it seemed;
But rather many sweet things dreamed
Should be accomplished to them then:
And, on the other hand, there gleamed,
As though from no short lives that men
Had power to trample out and end,
The clear untroubled heaven within
Each soul, that love had made descend—
An inextinguishable part
Of some eternity, akin
To nothing that took change and death
Of earth: more wonderful at heart
The great resplendent secrets grew,
That could not find a word or breath
To bear their telling, while they two
Sat fated in the darkening world
That one night before fate: and, free,
The thoughts for which strange lives shall be
Hereafter, entered and unfurled
Their depths and passed between them free.
And through an unrecorded hour,
Wherein the multitudes of men,
With the amassed tyrannic power
Of all their laws, became again
As in the ancientness, when earth
Held not one place of death or birth,—
It came to pass indeed that they,
With nought belonging to the day
Of common life upon them, whole
In the eternity that soul
Did give to soul, sat quite alone,
As a man doth the hour unknown
Before his death, in the great bare
Unalterable midst of hell
And heaven.
As though sure happiness were near,
The two who loved vowed each to each
The extreme day left or the year
Of life to come; and death could teach
No unknown grief to them it seemed;
But rather many sweet things dreamed
Should be accomplished to them then:
And, on the other hand, there gleamed,
As though from no short lives that men
Had power to trample out and end,
The clear untroubled heaven within
Each soul, that love had made descend—
An inextinguishable part
Of some eternity, akin
To nothing that took change and death
Of earth: more wonderful at heart
69
That could not find a word or breath
To bear their telling, while they two
Sat fated in the darkening world
That one night before fate: and, free,
The thoughts for which strange lives shall be
Hereafter, entered and unfurled
Their depths and passed between them free.
And through an unrecorded hour,
Wherein the multitudes of men,
With the amassed tyrannic power
Of all their laws, became again
As in the ancientness, when earth
Held not one place of death or birth,—
It came to pass indeed that they,
With nought belonging to the day
Of common life upon them, whole
In the eternity that soul
Did give to soul, sat quite alone,
As a man doth the hour unknown
Before his death, in the great bare
Unalterable midst of hell
And heaven.
70
And then were they aware
Of being severed from all kin,
And alien from the ill or well,
And the law making good or sin
To any creature: only they,
—Henceforth together—should begin
One new almighty spirit, free
With its own good and evil way
And power to end itself or be
For ever.
Of being severed from all kin,
And alien from the ill or well,
And the law making good or sin
To any creature: only they,
—Henceforth together—should begin
One new almighty spirit, free
With its own good and evil way
And power to end itself or be
For ever.
Such a distant sight
They had, beyond the daily haze
Of bounded vision, at the height
And depth of endless destiny
That love's inevitable ways
Had wrought for them,—they little knew,
That eve, how tenderly the blue,
Richer with many a memory
Out of their open hearts, gave birth
To every rapturous burning star;
Nor with what perfumed hands the earth
Made miracles of sweetness far
Into the yielding night: and, ere
The yet unbroken chains of their
Short sundered being drew back each soul
To fill and feel the rest of fate
This side of death, alas, this whole
Accursèd world, where lusts and hate
Have tracked and slaughtered love, lay drear
In dews of chill tears hardening sore
To add to cruel days one more
And not yet be consumed; while, near,
Their own yet unattainable,
Gleamed only fair the heaven where dwell
Love's saved ones deathless, night and day
Itself transfigured with the spell
That took their first life's tears away.
They had, beyond the daily haze
Of bounded vision, at the height
And depth of endless destiny
That love's inevitable ways
Had wrought for them,—they little knew,
That eve, how tenderly the blue,
Richer with many a memory
Out of their open hearts, gave birth
To every rapturous burning star;
Nor with what perfumed hands the earth
Made miracles of sweetness far
Into the yielding night: and, ere
71
Short sundered being drew back each soul
To fill and feel the rest of fate
This side of death, alas, this whole
Accursèd world, where lusts and hate
Have tracked and slaughtered love, lay drear
In dews of chill tears hardening sore
To add to cruel days one more
And not yet be consumed; while, near,
Their own yet unattainable,
Gleamed only fair the heaven where dwell
Love's saved ones deathless, night and day
Itself transfigured with the spell
That took their first life's tears away.
Ah, and the rest is strange enough
To common earth-folk, whose cold faith
Is coined out of some bitter lie
Of their polluted lives; whose wraith
Goes downward to the dung and dust
They worshipped in the stead of love:
But—Love of mine—if thou or I
Should doubt love's miracle, whose trust
Is in his heaven for which we die
Dishonoured in our lives,—then, mad
And hopeless were our hearts, and we
In all thrice wretched, and this sad
World-exile thrice a hell!
To common earth-folk, whose cold faith
Is coined out of some bitter lie
Of their polluted lives; whose wraith
Goes downward to the dung and dust
They worshipped in the stead of love:
But—Love of mine—if thou or I
Should doubt love's miracle, whose trust
72
Dishonoured in our lives,—then, mad
And hopeless were our hearts, and we
In all thrice wretched, and this sad
World-exile thrice a hell!
—Now She
Who came unto them on the morn
That brought their fate, and, in the ear
Of multitudes whose ready scorn
Turned to amaze, said she was near
Among a kin that held them dear,
From time ere unseen hands had torn
Their ways asunder,—to the dull
And jeering folk she seemed a crazed
Long widowed woman used to cull
Strange herbs at night time: but there blazed
At once, unshrouded, on the twain
The beauty in her and the might
Of a love-angel long in light;
And gathered on no pallid plain
By moonlit magic were the charms
She gave them: for straight into arms
Of tripled strength the lover took
His love—to win her so or look
His last upon the world that day.
Who came unto them on the morn
That brought their fate, and, in the ear
Of multitudes whose ready scorn
Turned to amaze, said she was near
Among a kin that held them dear,
From time ere unseen hands had torn
Their ways asunder,—to the dull
And jeering folk she seemed a crazed
Long widowed woman used to cull
Strange herbs at night time: but there blazed
At once, unshrouded, on the twain
The beauty in her and the might
Of a love-angel long in light;
And gathered on no pallid plain
By moonlit magic were the charms
She gave them: for straight into arms
Of tripled strength the lover took
73
His last upon the world that day.
O sweet and swift was the first way:
—Bearing her from the one dark place
In all God's universe where still
She was not his: winning her more
At every step; mere earthly space
And ruggedness between the chill
Man's hand that severed and the thrill
Of God's that should unite!
—Bearing her from the one dark place
In all God's universe where still
She was not his: winning her more
At every step; mere earthly space
And ruggedness between the chill
Man's hand that severed and the thrill
Of God's that should unite!
Grass bore
The blithe steps gratefully; and wings
Of hurrying wind, outstripping, fanned
And fretted many a mile of green
That waved with gracious murmurings
To the brink of the seeing; keen
Delicious scent was in the land;
And every little joy that sings
Close to its parent clod, unseen
In minute mystery, rang out
That morn its perfect rapturous chime:
And, far behind, the human shout
Fell faint and fainter every time,
Baffled and wavering about
The mazes of the upward way.
The blithe steps gratefully; and wings
Of hurrying wind, outstripping, fanned
And fretted many a mile of green
That waved with gracious murmurings
To the brink of the seeing; keen
Delicious scent was in the land;
And every little joy that sings
Close to its parent clod, unseen
In minute mystery, rang out
That morn its perfect rapturous chime:
And, far behind, the human shout
74
Baffled and wavering about
The mazes of the upward way.
And then they entered on the fair
And fearful solitudes that day
And night made in the mountain,—air
Immeasurable, and light and space,
And burning breadth of heaven, and steep
Interminable slopes that face
The blue and lead up to the blue.
It was the very dream that sleep
Had oft beguiled them with, made true
And mightier far; the green sheer side
Of earth rose boundless, unbeheld
Of any living thing beside
Themselves: the equal infinite
Of heaven uncomprehended held
The other dazzling half of light,
Endless and fathomless; and both
Seemed worlds to them where they might choose
To wander out their lives and lose
Rich unrecorded days, in troth
With some indulgent death that left
The lips belovèd with the lips
That loved, and, ending them, scarce reft
More from them than, with honied theft,
Some love-sleep steals of bliss, that nips
An agonizing joy in twain.
And here they knew that they were fain
To cast away all hope and fear;
And pass unnamed from men, and near
To none affranchisement more blest
Than that first licence the mere breast
Of an untrodden earth and drear
Desired solitude did hold
To lure them to ignoble rest.
And fearful solitudes that day
And night made in the mountain,—air
Immeasurable, and light and space,
And burning breadth of heaven, and steep
Interminable slopes that face
The blue and lead up to the blue.
It was the very dream that sleep
Had oft beguiled them with, made true
And mightier far; the green sheer side
Of earth rose boundless, unbeheld
Of any living thing beside
Themselves: the equal infinite
Of heaven uncomprehended held
The other dazzling half of light,
Endless and fathomless; and both
Seemed worlds to them where they might choose
To wander out their lives and lose
Rich unrecorded days, in troth
75
The lips belovèd with the lips
That loved, and, ending them, scarce reft
More from them than, with honied theft,
Some love-sleep steals of bliss, that nips
An agonizing joy in twain.
And here they knew that they were fain
To cast away all hope and fear;
And pass unnamed from men, and near
To none affranchisement more blest
Than that first licence the mere breast
Of an untrodden earth and drear
Desired solitude did hold
To lure them to ignoble rest.
Calm was the never ending wave
Of wild mysterious wind, that rolled
Through changeless ages there,—that brought
Nor good nor evil thing and wrought
No change: and peaceful, as a grave
Without the memory of a man
Or knowledge of a god, the dim
Grey grass immeasurable ran,
Receding ever, to some rim
Where shone, all brandished in the blue,
Its coarsely golden heads; and here
It seemed indeed that God scarce knew
The hoary age of Time or where
Was ending or beginning.
Of wild mysterious wind, that rolled
Through changeless ages there,—that brought
Nor good nor evil thing and wrought
No change: and peaceful, as a grave
Without the memory of a man
Or knowledge of a god, the dim
Grey grass immeasurable ran,
76
Where shone, all brandished in the blue,
Its coarsely golden heads; and here
It seemed indeed that God scarce knew
The hoary age of Time or where
Was ending or beginning.
And it was wonderful, yea, past
The loveliest bewildering
Of dreams, all suddenly, at last,
In such an endless fearless place—
Where was no least remembering
Of sweet or bitter—for the first
Illimitable moment's space,
To feel the loneliness of face
With yearning face, and love with love,
And passionate soul with soul that durst
All depth and height of passion.
The loveliest bewildering
Of dreams, all suddenly, at last,
In such an endless fearless place—
Where was no least remembering
Of sweet or bitter—for the first
Illimitable moment's space,
To feel the loneliness of face
With yearning face, and love with love,
And passionate soul with soul that durst
All depth and height of passion.
Above
Their infinite will that moment reigned
No law, but such as the wild wills
And endless energies of storms
And seas, and all things unrestrained
Rule themselves with for aye; and vast,
As the most fatal force that thrills
Through endless chaos and reforms
The earth and heavens, was all desire
Of their two spirits—now, at last,
In irrepressible ways to blend,
Fulfilling heaven or adding fire
To hell—one spirit to the end.
Wherefore, indeed, face tempted face
With a long fatal look, that wore
The haggard irresistible grace
Of utmost yearning; and no more
The eager passionate heart forbore
The heart's temptation, for the sake
Of any false faith in the earth
Left bitterly; but sweetest lures
That, perishably perfect, take
Imperishable loves of birth
That robs or peoples heaven, did tempt
And take their souls.
Their infinite will that moment reigned
No law, but such as the wild wills
And endless energies of storms
And seas, and all things unrestrained
77
As the most fatal force that thrills
Through endless chaos and reforms
The earth and heavens, was all desire
Of their two spirits—now, at last,
In irrepressible ways to blend,
Fulfilling heaven or adding fire
To hell—one spirit to the end.
Wherefore, indeed, face tempted face
With a long fatal look, that wore
The haggard irresistible grace
Of utmost yearning; and no more
The eager passionate heart forbore
The heart's temptation, for the sake
Of any false faith in the earth
Left bitterly; but sweetest lures
That, perishably perfect, take
Imperishable loves of birth
That robs or peoples heaven, did tempt
And take their souls.
Lust, that endures
While only the alluring hair
Hath the world's sun in it, exempt
From aught of the world's change; while, fair
In the world's fickle thought, the snare
Of lips and limbs and eyes doth hold
The glitter of its fading gold,—
Knoweth not wherefore they forsook
The safe returning paths that day,
And such remaining fate as lay
Among mankind, and, with a look
Mirroring the immensity
Of blue above them, mutely took
Unknown irrevocable doom
Among all endless creatures, high
As stars or lowly as the bloom
Upon the humble earth: but love
That gave an earth knew well what love
Gave heaven; and either lover's soul
Knew to God's judgment day, the whole
Loved story of the other's soul.
While only the alluring hair
Hath the world's sun in it, exempt
78
In the world's fickle thought, the snare
Of lips and limbs and eyes doth hold
The glitter of its fading gold,—
Knoweth not wherefore they forsook
The safe returning paths that day,
And such remaining fate as lay
Among mankind, and, with a look
Mirroring the immensity
Of blue above them, mutely took
Unknown irrevocable doom
Among all endless creatures, high
As stars or lowly as the bloom
Upon the humble earth: but love
That gave an earth knew well what love
Gave heaven; and either lover's soul
Knew to God's judgment day, the whole
Loved story of the other's soul.
So they went upward, still, to learn
The mystery of the mountain. Day
On day, they ever found some way
Higher and stranger, past return,
Leading up through the solitude
They sought. And, one by one, earth's rude
Horrific semblances, that hold
Mere changeless secrets of a love
The world has grown unworthy of,
Half fearless for the holy gold
Within them, laid by many a veil,—
Seeing, that, more and more, the might
Of love eternal did enfold
And change and beautify with light
Those wanderers.
The mystery of the mountain. Day
On day, they ever found some way
Higher and stranger, past return,
79
They sought. And, one by one, earth's rude
Horrific semblances, that hold
Mere changeless secrets of a love
The world has grown unworthy of,
Half fearless for the holy gold
Within them, laid by many a veil,—
Seeing, that, more and more, the might
Of love eternal did enfold
And change and beautify with light
Those wanderers.
And one day they knew
There was another wanderer too
In that fair mountain; for the pale
World-angel Death did haunt it through;
Many times, midmost of some waste
Quite pathless; or on narrowest place
Precipitous, had they even met
With wondrous and mysterious trace
Of him, that stayed the very haste
Of their freed feet, and turned the thought
Within them to a dream as yet
Beyond their bearing: and they caught,
Oft-times, some little sound of his,
Coming unearthly as a sharp
And rending cry up the abyss,
Or taken for the sudden hiss
Of a snake near them.
There was another wanderer too
In that fair mountain; for the pale
World-angel Death did haunt it through;
Many times, midmost of some waste
Quite pathless; or on narrowest place
Precipitous, had they even met
With wondrous and mysterious trace
Of him, that stayed the very haste
Of their freed feet, and turned the thought
Within them to a dream as yet
Beyond their bearing: and they caught,
80
Coming unearthly as a sharp
And rending cry up the abyss,
Or taken for the sudden hiss
Of a snake near them.
But at night
They heard him, when that mountain, wild
With hollow ways, became a harp
Whereon he poured the fearful might
Of an immense strange music, full
Of storms and thunders, sometimes mild
And bringing the delicious lull
Of an unearthly dream, but great,
And hundred voiced and all his own
For ever. Then they saw that lone
And mighty one—that savage mate
Of solitude; yea, once, afar,
And turned from them, and making way
Tremendous on the height where lay
The snowy shroud of moon and star;
Then once again; then many a time
Descried they him, scarce nigh, in pose
Of thinking thoughts that no man knows;
Or fearful in his haste to climb
Some distant craggy way of peak
And precipice, hung between hell
And heaven. At length, spite of the sun,
Nigh every day they saw him well,
Crouched sullen, or in hideous freak
Out on the sunny ledges sheer
And glittering. Scarce he seemed to shun
The sight of them; though dark and lost
And heedless seemed he if he crost
Their path; but, now and then, would peer
Intently at them from behind
Some rugged hiding, with no mind
To bring to pass on them his change
In any bitter sort.
They heard him, when that mountain, wild
With hollow ways, became a harp
Whereon he poured the fearful might
Of an immense strange music, full
Of storms and thunders, sometimes mild
And bringing the delicious lull
Of an unearthly dream, but great,
And hundred voiced and all his own
For ever. Then they saw that lone
And mighty one—that savage mate
Of solitude; yea, once, afar,
And turned from them, and making way
Tremendous on the height where lay
The snowy shroud of moon and star;
Then once again; then many a time
Descried they him, scarce nigh, in pose
Of thinking thoughts that no man knows;
81
Some distant craggy way of peak
And precipice, hung between hell
And heaven. At length, spite of the sun,
Nigh every day they saw him well,
Crouched sullen, or in hideous freak
Out on the sunny ledges sheer
And glittering. Scarce he seemed to shun
The sight of them; though dark and lost
And heedless seemed he if he crost
Their path; but, now and then, would peer
Intently at them from behind
Some rugged hiding, with no mind
To bring to pass on them his change
In any bitter sort.
And so,
They were a distance great and strange
Above the world: they knew no more
The shadowy place of it, below
The silver of the closing clouds
That spread beneath them like a floor;
Slowly too, had they felt that shrouds
Of fearless sweet forgetfulness,
Gathering all within, did hide
And shut off from them, and make less
And less the knowledge of their tried
Hard being in the past. Their love
Was growing with them as the light
Made in the sun's clear central mine,
That long hath burnt a way through shred
Of vapoury veil; so they did move
And live in it, and, in the bright
Transfigurement thereof, did shine
Wondrously each on each, and wed
Their perfect emanating bliss
In ways of an eternal kiss.
They were a distance great and strange
Above the world: they knew no more
The shadowy place of it, below
The silver of the closing clouds
That spread beneath them like a floor;
Slowly too, had they felt that shrouds
Of fearless sweet forgetfulness,
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And shut off from them, and make less
And less the knowledge of their tried
Hard being in the past. Their love
Was growing with them as the light
Made in the sun's clear central mine,
That long hath burnt a way through shred
Of vapoury veil; so they did move
And live in it, and, in the bright
Transfigurement thereof, did shine
Wondrously each on each, and wed
Their perfect emanating bliss
In ways of an eternal kiss.
I cannot find a subtle sound
Of words, in which it can be said,
How the great tides of glory roll,
Over some unperceived last bound,
Inward upon the open soul
For ever. Softly, while each way
And want and manner of the earth
—Disused, relinquished,—fell away
And ceasèd from them, did they change,
Scarcely with dying or with birth—
Into the endless element
Begun within, the day there went
The first love-lightning, swift and strange,
Between them, in that lower land
Where love's elect are a small band.
Of words, in which it can be said,
How the great tides of glory roll,
Over some unperceived last bound,
Inward upon the open soul
For ever. Softly, while each way
And want and manner of the earth
—Disused, relinquished,—fell away
And ceasèd from them, did they change,
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Into the endless element
Begun within, the day there went
The first love-lightning, swift and strange,
Between them, in that lower land
Where love's elect are a small band.
Yea, even as now their feet had made
Ever an upward way that led
From the dull earth, from the cold shade,
Ever toward some higher height,
Where yet their spirits should be fed
Upon unearthlier air and light,
And yet more perfectly fulfil
The high and deep law of their love,—
Yea, even as now they went and still
Found there was love and light above,
And shining changes yet to teach
Their souls, and loftier joys to reach—
So, when at length, upon the last
Chill summit of the earth they stood,
And all the earthliness had passed
Fairly away from them, a good
And never-ending sight they had
Of heaven and higher heaven; and, free,
With winged feet that were bright and glad
To walk upon the silver sea
Of airy cloud and air, no stay
They made, but upward a great way
Went ever, loving ever, yea,
And drawing nigh to Love.
Ever an upward way that led
From the dull earth, from the cold shade,
Ever toward some higher height,
Where yet their spirits should be fed
Upon unearthlier air and light,
And yet more perfectly fulfil
The high and deep law of their love,—
Yea, even as now they went and still
Found there was love and light above,
And shining changes yet to teach
Their souls, and loftier joys to reach—
So, when at length, upon the last
Chill summit of the earth they stood,
And all the earthliness had passed
Fairly away from them, a good
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Of heaven and higher heaven; and, free,
With winged feet that were bright and glad
To walk upon the silver sea
Of airy cloud and air, no stay
They made, but upward a great way
Went ever, loving ever, yea,
And drawing nigh to Love.
And now,
Alas, that neither I nor thou
Can know the full and perfect fate
They have; nor where at length they are;
Nor for what fairer thing they wait,
If yet they have not come to be
All things divinely.—But yon star,
That doth not seem indeed so far,
Hath all this lore; yea, and each free
Undefiled flower in the grass
Knows and sees plainly in the glass
Of heaven: and we know not, alas!
Alas, that neither I nor thou
Can know the full and perfect fate
They have; nor where at length they are;
Nor for what fairer thing they wait,
If yet they have not come to be
All things divinely.—But yon star,
That doth not seem indeed so far,
Hath all this lore; yea, and each free
Undefiled flower in the grass
Knows and sees plainly in the glass
Of heaven: and we know not, alas!
Yet shall their fate, whate'er it be,
Come very soon on me and thee!
Come very soon on me and thee!
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Would I might go far over sea,
My Love, or high above the air,
And come to land or heaven with thee,
Where no law is and none shall be
Against beholding the most rare
Strange beauty that thou hast for me.
My Love, or high above the air,
And come to land or heaven with thee,
Where no law is and none shall be
Against beholding the most rare
Strange beauty that thou hast for me.
Alas, for, in this bitter land,
Full many a written curse doth stand
Against the kiss thy lips should bear;
Against the sweet gift of thy hand;
Against the knowing that thou art fair,
And too fond loving of thy hair!
Full many a written curse doth stand
Against the kiss thy lips should bear;
Against the sweet gift of thy hand;
Against the knowing that thou art fair,
And too fond loving of thy hair!
| Lays of France | |