 | The Alhambra and Other Poems |  |
v
To Oscar Browning
To feed the soul through gilded bars
Fain are the fond, and fain the kind;
But where it listeth blows the wind
And storms on undiscovered stars.
Fain are the fond, and fain the kind;
But where it listeth blows the wind
And storms on undiscovered stars.
Oh! chanced it in some alien world,
Befell it in some far-off age,
Our shallop took her pilgrimage
Where Thames' pale current coiled and curled?
Befell it in some far-off age,
Our shallop took her pilgrimage
Where Thames' pale current coiled and curled?
When floating on,—the man, the boy,—
By Eton's elms and Windsor's towers,
We sowed the sweet unconscious hours
Whose blossom is remembered joy!
By Eton's elms and Windsor's towers,
We sowed the sweet unconscious hours
Whose blossom is remembered joy!
vi
Though drifted, since that evening fled,
A lifetime from those isles and weirs,
Through dim amazement of the years
I hold a bright, unbroken thread!
A lifetime from those isles and weirs,
Through dim amazement of the years
I hold a bright, unbroken thread!
Your sympathy alone was clue
To labour's faintly-glimmering end,
And though your faith outran me, Friend,
I dedicate my work to you.
To labour's faintly-glimmering end,
And though your faith outran me, Friend,
I dedicate my work to you.
Far distant now are Windsor's pile
And Eton's elms; yet on we float;
And hark! I hear the waves that moat
The silence of Avilion's Isle!
And Eton's elms; yet on we float;
And hark! I hear the waves that moat
The silence of Avilion's Isle!
March, 1897.
1
The Alhambra
I
GRANADA
O land of flowers and sapphire skies,
Where seraphs walk in sweet disguise
Of earthly maidens' vesture!
Meseems you keep within your eyes
The first, vast, virginal surprise
Of God's creative gesture!
Where seraphs walk in sweet disguise
Of earthly maidens' vesture!
Meseems you keep within your eyes
The first, vast, virginal surprise
Of God's creative gesture!
The Angel of Art has sealed on thee
His signet and his sign,—
The Alhambra! Like a phantasie,
Half human, half divine!
His signet and his sign,—
The Alhambra! Like a phantasie,
Half human, half divine!
A marble fountain! Ocean shell!
Or flame, that coils and spires!
A perfect thought! As who should tell,
In one, the World's desires!
Or flame, that coils and spires!
A perfect thought! As who should tell,
In one, the World's desires!
Most gorgeous Word of blazoned Art,
In whose eternal scroll
The student who can read a part
Is Master of the whole!
In whose eternal scroll
The student who can read a part
Is Master of the whole!
2
II
LINDARAJA
Within this casket was empearled,
As Heaven's own Designate,
A Queen; whose empire o'er the World
No rival dare debate!
As Heaven's own Designate,
A Queen; whose empire o'er the World
No rival dare debate!
But yet her fee of sovereignty
Was not by armies ruled!
Her beauty's sheen, her sovran mien,—
By these men's hearts were schooled!
Was not by armies ruled!
Her beauty's sheen, her sovran mien,—
By these men's hearts were schooled!
Ah, Lindaraja! Men are blind,
Or else beneath thy grace,
'Twere theirs to find the Eternal Mind,
And guess the Eternal Face!
Or else beneath thy grace,
'Twere theirs to find the Eternal Mind,
And guess the Eternal Face!
3
III
GENERALIFE
Here, as if cast by pilfering fays,
Are scattered Nature's gems:
Her olivine, her chrysoprase,
Her crowns and diadems!
Are scattered Nature's gems:
Her olivine, her chrysoprase,
Her crowns and diadems!
Scarce held the Garden God first made
And gave the Man to till,
More flowery lawns, more fragrant shade,
Or birds of sweeter bill!
And gave the Man to till,
More flowery lawns, more fragrant shade,
Or birds of sweeter bill!
Here couches Love 'mid fronded fern;
Here maidens, venturing in,
Achieve their liberty to learn
The sacredness of sin!
Here maidens, venturing in,
Achieve their liberty to learn
The sacredness of sin!
4
IV
ZAMBRA
Warriors, from the war returning,
Cast aside the sword and lance!
Zambra's myriad lamps are burning!
Zambra woos with song and dance!
Cast aside the sword and lance!
Zambra's myriad lamps are burning!
Zambra woos with song and dance!
Don the saffron robes of pleasure!
Brood no more on bloody fights!
Houris' arms await the pressure,
Lip to lip, of amorous knights!
Brood no more on bloody fights!
Houris' arms await the pressure,
Lip to lip, of amorous knights!
Lo! along the enchanted alley
Shines the vagueness of the moon!
There the Almées dance and dally,
There the lisping lovers croon!
Shines the vagueness of the moon!
There the Almées dance and dally,
There the lisping lovers croon!
5
V
EL CERCO
They come, the Christians abhorred,
Drunk with the blood of their Lord!
Who shall deliver Islâm
From the Cross of the red oriflamme?
They pass; and destruction and dearth
Follow, and crushed to the earth
Lies Art! Thou wert chosen to scourge
The pride of a People, to purge
Their splendour, Castille, and o'erthrow
The genius of Joy with the genius of Woe!
6
VI
LA SILLA DEL MORO
“Farewell, farewell! Thy doom endears
Thy beauty! . . . . God is just;
Yet must I weep with woman's tears
Thy glory in the dust!
Thy beauty! . . . . God is just;
Yet must I weep with woman's tears
Thy glory in the dust!
“To lose thee is to die! And yet
I cling to life, for fear
In death's confusion I forget
How fair thou art, how dear!”
I cling to life, for fear
In death's confusion I forget
How fair thou art, how dear!”
So mourned Granada's latest King,
Deeming that Art was dead;
But still the flowers our footsteps ring
And still the stars our head!
Deeming that Art was dead;
But still the flowers our footsteps ring
And still the stars our head!
7
To William Watson at Windermere
I count thee, Watson, happier far
Than we who live in foolish noise,
With inharmonious minds that mar
The measure of our scanty joys!
Than we who live in foolish noise,
With inharmonious minds that mar
The measure of our scanty joys!
From thee the inarticulate hills
Expect the voice to them denied,
For thee the whisper of the rills
A thousand-fold is multiplied;
Expect the voice to them denied,
For thee the whisper of the rills
A thousand-fold is multiplied;
And every tarn reflects for thee
Procession of the bygone years,
When clouds in hooded pageantry,
Like memories, flit across the meres;
Procession of the bygone years,
When clouds in hooded pageantry,
Like memories, flit across the meres;
The flowers reach up to kiss thine hand,
The trees lean down to touch thine head,
The birds acclaim thee; all the land
Is conscious of a poet's tread!
The trees lean down to touch thine head,
The birds acclaim thee; all the land
Is conscious of a poet's tread!
All seems aloof from mortal pain;
Thou communest with all in song,
Clear-welling with a purer strain
Than ever flowed from human wrong.
Thou communest with all in song,
Clear-welling with a purer strain
Than ever flowed from human wrong.
8
O happy in the woodland maze!
O happy on the mountain steep!
But we are locked in wilder ways,
And alien from the hills of sleep!
O happy on the mountain steep!
But we are locked in wilder ways,
And alien from the hills of sleep!
No “rivulets dance,” no torrents flow,
No “forests muse” of pine or oak;
We marvel if a floweret blow
Beneath a heaven so smeared with smoke.
No “forests muse” of pine or oak;
We marvel if a floweret blow
Beneath a heaven so smeared with smoke.
And here no joyous impulse moves
The minds of men with random waves,
But up and down these stony grooves
We hurry, like a gang of slaves.
The minds of men with random waves,
But up and down these stony grooves
We hurry, like a gang of slaves.
Ah, vainly would'st thou bend to hear,
Or vainly would'st thou strain to see
The mystic Spirit bards revere
Of Nature's prodigality!
Or vainly would'st thou strain to see
The mystic Spirit bards revere
Of Nature's prodigality!
A giant, clanking golden chains;
A monster, bound in torments fierce;
Whose strong integument of pains
No shaft of joy is keen to pierce;
A monster, bound in torments fierce;
Whose strong integument of pains
No shaft of joy is keen to pierce;
What more than this can poet spy
Beneath our brave pretence and show?
'Tis light to lift, that bravery,
That broidered coverlid of woe!
Beneath our brave pretence and show?
'Tis light to lift, that bravery,
That broidered coverlid of woe!
9
And yet perchance I do thee wrong;
Perchance, beneath immediate ill,
Thy clearer insight, trained and strong,
May catch a deeper vision still:
Perchance, beneath immediate ill,
Thy clearer insight, trained and strong,
May catch a deeper vision still:
Maybe, though greeting Nature's face
In cloud and crag, in lake and glen,
At least her footsteps thou canst trace
Among the meaner ways of men!
In cloud and crag, in lake and glen,
At least her footsteps thou canst trace
Among the meaner ways of men!
Maybe, her paths by thee discerned,
Are less obscure than sages deem;
The poet's prescience having learned
What Science only dares to dream:
Are less obscure than sages deem;
The poet's prescience having learned
What Science only dares to dream:
That Nature is not twain or trine;
Though none know whither, none know whence
Her journey, yet no less divine
Is sense, than things perceived by sense.
Though none know whither, none know whence
Her journey, yet no less divine
Is sense, than things perceived by sense.
But take thou the unfinished thought,
To mould it, in some later lay,
By finer inspiration wrought,
And sing me all I fail to say;
To mould it, in some later lay,
By finer inspiration wrought,
And sing me all I fail to say;
Let not the cloistral peaks bar out
Profaner creatures from thy ken,
Or fold thee from the faith and doubt
Of common minds and fellow men!
Profaner creatures from thy ken,
Or fold thee from the faith and doubt
Of common minds and fellow men!
10
Though Windermere thy heart allure,
Or Rydal, with her sacred hills,
Forget not whom the towns immure
To turn the cranks and tread the mills!
Or Rydal, with her sacred hills,
Forget not whom the towns immure
To turn the cranks and tread the mills!
London. July, 1897.
11
To I. Albeniz
I cannot say what I would say;
My eyes are filled with tears, dear friend;
Because our life must pass away
And all our sweetest moments end.
My eyes are filled with tears, dear friend;
Because our life must pass away
And all our sweetest moments end.
But yet this privilege is ours,
That hand in hand we twain have trod
The maze of Art's authentic bowers,
And walked with Love and talked with God.
That hand in hand we twain have trod
The maze of Art's authentic bowers,
And walked with Love and talked with God.
12
England and America
I
PRESIDENT CLEVELAND'S MESSAGE,
DECEMBER, 1895
Yes! it was well, and passing well, that we—
To do their pleasure—for so small a thing,
Refused to set wild war upon the wing,
Or to defile that unensanguined sea,
That flows between our Countries of the Free,
With freight of fratricide! We let them ring
Alarum; kept us crimeless; and shall bring
White record to the days that are to be!
To do their pleasure—for so small a thing,
Refused to set wild war upon the wing,
Or to defile that unensanguined sea,
That flows between our Countries of the Free,
With freight of fratricide! We let them ring
Alarum; kept us crimeless; and shall bring
White record to the days that are to be!
The time will come, when they will look with shame
On that time-serving message of their Chief;
His use ignoble of their noble name
For paltry purpose, must be charged with grief
For the harvest of their Age, when every sheaf
Is garnered of their folly and their fame.
On that time-serving message of their Chief;
His use ignoble of their noble name
For paltry purpose, must be charged with grief
For the harvest of their Age, when every sheaf
Is garnered of their folly and their fame.
13
II
THE ARBITRATION TREATY,
JANUARY, 1897
“How beautiful the feet of them that bring
Good tidings o'er the mountains, news of peace!”
So cried the Hebrew prophet, long release
From long captivity previsioning.
And Cyrus came, with healing on his wing
For Israel; but not by Persia, Greece,
Nor Rome, God made the world from war to cease;
No, nor by Christ, nor any Christian King!
Good tidings o'er the mountains, news of peace!”
So cried the Hebrew prophet, long release
From long captivity previsioning.
And Cyrus came, with healing on his wing
For Israel; but not by Persia, Greece,
Nor Rome, God made the world from war to cease;
No, nor by Christ, nor any Christian King!
But England, watching by her moated main,
Yet tasting in convergent winds the taint
Of slaughter and the tears of those that weep
The tyranny of battle, hears again,
With spiritual ear, the far and faint
Footfall divine, that treads the “untrampled deep.”
Yet tasting in convergent winds the taint
Of slaughter and the tears of those that weep
The tyranny of battle, hears again,
With spiritual ear, the far and faint
Footfall divine, that treads the “untrampled deep.”
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III
THE AMERICAN SENATE'S AMENDMENT
More right divine, perchance, ye arrogate
Than Kings anointed; yet ye little prove
Your title to investiture of Love,
Which is Divinity; but consecrate
To enmity ye seem! For when, as late,
Peace left awhile her heavenly Ark, that hove
A little nearer Earth, the gentle dove
Could find no harbour in your flood of hate.
Than Kings anointed; yet ye little prove
Your title to investiture of Love,
Which is Divinity; but consecrate
To enmity ye seem! For when, as late,
Peace left awhile her heavenly Ark, that hove
A little nearer Earth, the gentle dove
Could find no harbour in your flood of hate.
Hither and thither dark confusions smite,
In maddened chivalry of pride and pelf;
The nations of the world, like factions fight,
As reasonless as Ghibelline and Guelph:
Yet Earth has never seen a viler sight
Than this vile war ye wage on Peace herself!
In maddened chivalry of pride and pelf;
The nations of the world, like factions fight,
As reasonless as Ghibelline and Guelph:
Yet Earth has never seen a viler sight
Than this vile war ye wage on Peace herself!
March, 1897.
15
America's Declaration of War, 1898
The sly Freebooters of the Earth
Open their ranks, to welcome in
The youngest Race God brought to birth,
By serpent reasons lured to sin.
Open their ranks, to welcome in
The youngest Race God brought to birth,
By serpent reasons lured to sin.
“Peace and goodwill”—the promise failed
As soon as made, erased with gore;
And once again the Christ is haled
Behind the reeking wheels of War!
As soon as made, erased with gore;
And once again the Christ is haled
Behind the reeking wheels of War!
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Revelation
Man is a pilgrim; in ambiguous ways
And twilight days,
By endless revelation led along,
An endless song
Of aspiration and of hope he sings;
To which our strings,
O minstrels, let us tune, and time our staves
To match those waves
And tides of choiring voices, that profound
As many waters sound.
And twilight days,
By endless revelation led along,
An endless song
Of aspiration and of hope he sings;
To which our strings,
O minstrels, let us tune, and time our staves
To match those waves
And tides of choiring voices, that profound
As many waters sound.
What though some discord of suspended pain
Distress the strain?
Some dissonance of unresolved desires
Torment the wires?
These are the unripe buds upon the tree
Of harmony;
The sunbeams of the summer solstice lack
Not bars of black,
And life would be no more than senseless breath
Without the sense of death.
Distress the strain?
Some dissonance of unresolved desires
Torment the wires?
These are the unripe buds upon the tree
Of harmony;
The sunbeams of the summer solstice lack
Not bars of black,
And life would be no more than senseless breath
Without the sense of death.
Moreover there is one persistent voice
That cries, “Rejoice!”
'Tis Love's; and, as he sings, all other sound
Comes circling round,
And all the trembling notes, like lonely elves,
Submit themselves
To his supreme persuadence. Incomplete
Although so sweet,
Even his melody. Because it flows
For ever, without close.
That cries, “Rejoice!”
'Tis Love's; and, as he sings, all other sound
Comes circling round,
17
Submit themselves
To his supreme persuadence. Incomplete
Although so sweet,
Even his melody. Because it flows
For ever, without close.
18
“O Sing unto the Lord a New Song”
Oft to the men of battle poets raise
An ode of praise,
And oft the choric epitaph they rear
Above the bier
Of valour,—resolute, without disdain,
Though godly Spain,
Invincible, in cannon-freighted keel,
From Cadiz steal,
Or godless France her flaming fingers lave
In Egypt's wave,
And yellowing harvest-fields of Belgium beat
With blood-bedabbled feet.
An ode of praise,
And oft the choric epitaph they rear
Above the bier
Of valour,—resolute, without disdain,
Though godly Spain,
Invincible, in cannon-freighted keel,
From Cadiz steal,
Or godless France her flaming fingers lave
In Egypt's wave,
And yellowing harvest-fields of Belgium beat
With blood-bedabbled feet.
And oft to Love the Muses will return
From themes more stern,
To build a stately altar to his name,
And feed his flame
With thrice-distilléd oils of simple joy,
Unwont to cloy;
That there with hushed and hesitating feet
May lovers meet,
And learn the secret of his mystic power,—
That the only flower
Of perfect chastity proceeds
From mutual passion's wingéd seeds.
From themes more stern,
To build a stately altar to his name,
And feed his flame
With thrice-distilléd oils of simple joy,
Unwont to cloy;
That there with hushed and hesitating feet
May lovers meet,
And learn the secret of his mystic power,—
That the only flower
Of perfect chastity proceeds
From mutual passion's wingéd seeds.
19
Alas! why strike we no sublimer string,
Nor dare to sing
Jehovah, and his mercies manifold,
Renowned of old
In Judah's temple? where, like seraphim's
Majestic hymns,
Antiphonies 'neath cedarn arches rolled,
To harps of gold
And dulcimers; while damsels, dancing round,
Shook forth the timbrel's sound.
Nor dare to sing
Jehovah, and his mercies manifold,
Renowned of old
In Judah's temple? where, like seraphim's
Majestic hymns,
Antiphonies 'neath cedarn arches rolled,
To harps of gold
And dulcimers; while damsels, dancing round,
Shook forth the timbrel's sound.
When erst, O God, the Hebrew minstrel tried
From thee to hide,
In vain 'neath muffling canopies of night
He shunned thy sight,
In vain o'er ocean-solitudes was borne
On wings of morn;
Beyond the universe's utmost bound
Thy face he found,
Beyond the stars and light's extremest belt
Thy presence felt;
For when he turned from thee and fled,
Thy spirit followed not, but led.
From thee to hide,
In vain 'neath muffling canopies of night
He shunned thy sight,
In vain o'er ocean-solitudes was borne
On wings of morn;
Beyond the universe's utmost bound
Thy face he found,
Beyond the stars and light's extremest belt
Thy presence felt;
For when he turned from thee and fled,
Thy spirit followed not, but led.
But now the shelvéd record of the rocks
The psalmist mocks;
Before thy motion at primeval dawn
A veil is drawn
Of countless ages; down a myriad links
Creation sinks
Through teeming generations, swarm on swarm,
From form to form!
The abyss is void of thee, and back we reel
And vainly feel
The stars,—if in the heavens may linger
One impress of their maker's finger!
The psalmist mocks;
Before thy motion at primeval dawn
A veil is drawn
Of countless ages; down a myriad links
Creation sinks
Through teeming generations, swarm on swarm,
From form to form!
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And vainly feel
The stars,—if in the heavens may linger
One impress of their maker's finger!
Yet, though thou dwell'st not in the empyrean,
We raise our pæan
To thee, who ridest not the wind nor storm,
Whom neither form
Nor hue reveals, nor substance can contain,
Nor symbol vain!
To thee, who art not God of sect or race,
Of land or place,
Of century or era, age or æon,
We raise our solemn pæan!
We raise our pæan
To thee, who ridest not the wind nor storm,
Whom neither form
Nor hue reveals, nor substance can contain,
Nor symbol vain!
To thee, who art not God of sect or race,
Of land or place,
Of century or era, age or æon,
We raise our solemn pæan!
Sing, every voice, that never chanted spell
To cozen hell,
Nor sought by adulation, born of fear,
To charm God's ear!
Blow, trumpets, blow, that shatter to the ground,
With sevenfold sound,
The walls of superstition and offence
Against God's sense;
And ye, that live by love's harmonious law,
Soft music draw,
With fingers fleet, from lyre and lute,
Like forest rain, when winds are mute!
To cozen hell,
Nor sought by adulation, born of fear,
To charm God's ear!
Blow, trumpets, blow, that shatter to the ground,
With sevenfold sound,
The walls of superstition and offence
Against God's sense;
And ye, that live by love's harmonious law,
Soft music draw,
With fingers fleet, from lyre and lute,
Like forest rain, when winds are mute!
Eternally revealed, yet never known,
Thee, thee we own!
From man's false images of thee are cast
The shadows vast
Of doubt and dread, that lie upon his mind
So black inclined!
Yet shadows are but measures of the light;
The darkest night
Is but the token of the sun withdrawn,
The promise of a dawn.
Thee, thee we own!
From man's false images of thee are cast
The shadows vast
21
So black inclined!
Yet shadows are but measures of the light;
The darkest night
Is but the token of the sun withdrawn,
The promise of a dawn.
22
Psalm XC
From æon to æonEre the mountains were born Thou art God!
Thou turnest the sons of the earthborn,
Thou turnest back mortals to dust.
For in thine eyes a thousand years lapsing
Are past as a watch in the night!
We blossom as herbs in the morning,
That are mown down and withered at eve!
Our days die away as a murmur,
And thy fury has finished our years!
How foolish our boasting and travail!
In vanity born to take flight!
O learn us our life-days to number,
That wisdom may home to our hearts.
23
Mors, Morituri Te Salutamus!
I hate thee, Death!
Not that I fear thee,—more than mortal sprite
Fears the dark entrance, whence no man returns;
For who would not resign his scanty breath,
Unreal joy, and troublesome delight,
To marble coffer or sepulchral urn's
Inviolate keeping?
To quench the smouldering lamp, that feebly burns
Within his chamber, to procure sweet sleeping,
Is not a madman's act. And yet I hate thee,
Swift breaker of life's poor illusion,
Stern ender of love's fond confusion,
And with rebellion in my heart await thee.
Not that I fear thee,—more than mortal sprite
Fears the dark entrance, whence no man returns;
For who would not resign his scanty breath,
Unreal joy, and troublesome delight,
To marble coffer or sepulchral urn's
Inviolate keeping?
To quench the smouldering lamp, that feebly burns
Within his chamber, to procure sweet sleeping,
Is not a madman's act. And yet I hate thee,
Swift breaker of life's poor illusion,
Stern ender of love's fond confusion,
And with rebellion in my heart await thee.
Like mariners we sail, of fate unwist,
With orders sealed and only to be read
When home has faded in the morning mist
And simple faith and innocence are fled!
With orders sealed and only to be read
When home has faded in the morning mist
And simple faith and innocence are fled!
Oft we neglect them, being much dismayed
By phantoms and weird wonders
That haunt the deep,
By voices, winds, and thunders,
Old mariners that cannot pray nor weep,
And faces of drowned souls that cannot sleep!
Or else our crew is mutinous, arrayed
Against us, and the mandate is delayed.
By phantoms and weird wonders
That haunt the deep,
By voices, winds, and thunders,
24
And faces of drowned souls that cannot sleep!
Or else our crew is mutinous, arrayed
Against us, and the mandate is delayed.
But when the forces that rebelled
Are satisfied or quelled;
When sails are trimmed to catch the merry wind,
And billows dance before and foam behind;
Free, free at last from tumult and distraction
Of pleasure beckoned and of pain repelled,—
Free from ourselves and disciplined for action,—
We break the seal of destiny, to find
The bourne or venture for our cruise designed,
Then, at that very moment, hark! a cry
On deck; and then a silence, as of breath
Held. In the offing, low against the sky,
Hoves thy black flag! . . . Therefore I hate thee, Death!
Are satisfied or quelled;
When sails are trimmed to catch the merry wind,
And billows dance before and foam behind;
Free, free at last from tumult and distraction
Of pleasure beckoned and of pain repelled,—
Free from ourselves and disciplined for action,—
We break the seal of destiny, to find
The bourne or venture for our cruise designed,
Then, at that very moment, hark! a cry
On deck; and then a silence, as of breath
Held. In the offing, low against the sky,
Hoves thy black flag! . . . Therefore I hate thee, Death!
The verb “to hove” is no doubt a little archaic. Perhaps it dropped out of use from the natural confusion with the preterite of “heave” (which I have used on page 16), corresponding with that between “lay” and the preterlte of “lie.” “Hove” is connected with “hover.” It is constantly used by Malory; and Gower, Chaucer, and Spenser employ it. It seems to me too good a word to be lost—by poets, at least.
25
The Inquest
Not labour kills us; no, nor joy:
The incredulity and frown,
The interference and annoy,
The small attritions wear us down.
The incredulity and frown,
The interference and annoy,
The small attritions wear us down.
The little gnat-like buzzings shrill,
The hurdy-gurdies of the street,
The common curses of the will—
These wrap the cerements round our feet.
The hurdy-gurdies of the street,
The common curses of the will—
These wrap the cerements round our feet.
And more than all, the look askance
Of loving souls that cannot gauge
The numbing touch of circumstance,
The heavy toll of heritage.
Of loving souls that cannot gauge
The numbing touch of circumstance,
The heavy toll of heritage.
It is not Death, but Life that slays:
The night less mountainously lies
Upon our lids, than foolish day's
Importunate futilities!
The night less mountainously lies
Upon our lids, than foolish day's
Importunate futilities!
26
Col. Gerard Noel Money, C.B.
Hadst thou not died
I would not ask to ride
By Death's pale side;
But since thou art a corse,
I ride by his white horse
And wish Life's black battalions woe betide!
I would not ask to ride
By Death's pale side;
But since thou art a corse,
I ride by his white horse
And wish Life's black battalions woe betide!
Thou in no case
Wert servant of disgrace,
But ever sett'st thy face
With that much merrier part
Of honour and good heart:
Therefore with thee and Death I choose to pace.
Wert servant of disgrace,
But ever sett'st thy face
With that much merrier part
Of honour and good heart:
Therefore with thee and Death I choose to pace.
27
Thomas Ashe
In disappointed loneliness
A gentle bard has passed away,
Who for no guerdon would betray
The mission of a bard,—to bless;
Too late, too late shall we confess
We need the rills of song that stray
With fringe of flowerets faintly gay,
Not only streams of strain and stress.
A gentle bard has passed away,
Who for no guerdon would betray
The mission of a bard,—to bless;
Too late, too late shall we confess
We need the rills of song that stray
With fringe of flowerets faintly gay,
Not only streams of strain and stress.
But now our jaded taste disdains
Forget-me-not and water-cress,
The rose of cultivated pains
And passions to our lips we press,
We scarcely notice when there wanes
A soul of simple tenderness.
Forget-me-not and water-cress,
The rose of cultivated pains
And passions to our lips we press,
We scarcely notice when there wanes
A soul of simple tenderness.
Jan., 1890
28
Beside a Grave
Thou hast passed away into darkness,
No more may I see thy face,
And the dead world in its starkness
Is my appointed place.
No more may I see thy face,
And the dead world in its starkness
Is my appointed place.
What art thou, dear? An essence,
A vapour, a nothing? Or one
Absorbed in a mightier Presence,
A sun swallowed up by a sun?
A vapour, a nothing? Or one
Absorbed in a mightier Presence,
A sun swallowed up by a sun?
What wert thou, dear, when beside me
Thy feet kept an equal pace
With mine? A dream to deride me
With false, ephemeral grace?
Thy feet kept an equal pace
With mine? A dream to deride me
With false, ephemeral grace?
Had love then his final fruition?
Is blossoming-time outwrought?
Was the worth of our intuition
Of immortality nought?
Is blossoming-time outwrought?
Was the worth of our intuition
Of immortality nought?
29
“The Days that are no more”
The torpid night has filled the languid air
With breath of roses lulled with dew to sleep,
The murmurous bees are housed in honeyed lair,
And nothing wakes except the hearts that weep.
With breath of roses lulled with dew to sleep,
The murmurous bees are housed in honeyed lair,
And nothing wakes except the hearts that weep.
O days that are no more, seen down long aisles
And avenues of time, where trembling light
Dimples the world with universal smiles,
In home, in childhood, when all care was slight;
And avenues of time, where trembling light
Dimples the world with universal smiles,
In home, in childhood, when all care was slight;
O days that are no more, come yet again!
Come with your snowy drapery and your dream!
Waft me the fragrance of your summer rain,
Bring me your flowers, unveil your morning beam!
Come with your snowy drapery and your dream!
Waft me the fragrance of your summer rain,
Bring me your flowers, unveil your morning beam!
Come yet again! . . . But there shall never be
Such days again; for these no sweetness store,
These do not come with happiness to me,
These are not like the days that are no more!
Such days again; for these no sweetness store,
These do not come with happiness to me,
These are not like the days that are no more!
30
Rest
Sometimes it seems true happiness can dwell
Only where thought and contemplation weave
Uninterrupted webs; to take our leave
For ever of the world in cloistered cell,
With no distraction save the solemn bell
That summons dead and living; not to grieve
For slaughtered summer-times beyond reprieve,
And all the ill that never can be well;
Only where thought and contemplation weave
Uninterrupted webs; to take our leave
For ever of the world in cloistered cell,
With no distraction save the solemn bell
That summons dead and living; not to grieve
For slaughtered summer-times beyond reprieve,
And all the ill that never can be well;
Each day to worship at the heavenly throne,
Which for our weakling sense we symbolise
By the proportioned stateliness of stone,—
Long glades of column and of arch, that rise
All-resonant with untumultuous tone;—
Sometimes this seems the only worthy prize.
Which for our weakling sense we symbolise
By the proportioned stateliness of stone,—
Long glades of column and of arch, that rise
All-resonant with untumultuous tone;—
Sometimes this seems the only worthy prize.
31
“He that is without Sin”
What is her value if Affection stint
Her confidence, for every dubious deed?
What is a cord if it should snap at need?
Or shield, if it should shatter at a dint?
Go, pious! tithe your cummin and your mint,—
The cheap rebuke, love sacrificed to creed,—
And gather up your skirts with careful heed,—
Lest precious self should catch an evil hint!
Her confidence, for every dubious deed?
What is a cord if it should snap at need?
Or shield, if it should shatter at a dint?
Go, pious! tithe your cummin and your mint,—
The cheap rebuke, love sacrificed to creed,—
And gather up your skirts with careful heed,—
Lest precious self should catch an evil hint!
Fair saints, that are more Christ-like than the Christ,
More virgin than the Maid Immaculate,
Whose kisses and embraces are unpriced,
Save by an offer of the marriage state,
The eye that watches is the eye enticed!
The sins men hunt they never truly hate.
More virgin than the Maid Immaculate,
Whose kisses and embraces are unpriced,
Save by an offer of the marriage state,
The eye that watches is the eye enticed!
The sins men hunt they never truly hate.
32
Any Father to Any Son
For thee a crown of thorns I wear,
And thought imperative constrains
My labouring heart for thee to bear
The travail of a woman's pains;
And thought imperative constrains
My labouring heart for thee to bear
The travail of a woman's pains;
For with intolerable preságe
Of all the amazements of thy life,
The pits of ancient woe I guage,
The vast impediments of strife;
Of all the amazements of thy life,
The pits of ancient woe I guage,
The vast impediments of strife;
Or else in dreadful dreaming cast,
I see thy form before me fly,
By prescience never overpast
Nor fleetest foot that love can ply.
I see thy form before me fly,
By prescience never overpast
Nor fleetest foot that love can ply.
Still as thy shadow must I run,
When all the shadows fall behind,
And in the rich seductive sun
Thou to the darker bars art blind.
When all the shadows fall behind,
And in the rich seductive sun
Thou to the darker bars art blind.
33
Children
Watch with me and listen
By the sweet enchanted bowers,
Where the children dance with children, hand in hand!
Bright their blue eyes glisten
Like the dew-besprinkled flowers,
When the morning stoops to kiss the sleeping land!
By the sweet enchanted bowers,
Where the children dance with children, hand in hand!
Bright their blue eyes glisten
Like the dew-besprinkled flowers,
When the morning stoops to kiss the sleeping land!
Hear the laughter flowing,
Like a brook's melodious bubble,
From the happy heart of boy and girl at play!
Clouds o'erhead are blowing
That are charged with tears of trouble;
But the winds of God shall drive them on, to-day.
Like a brook's melodious bubble,
From the happy heart of boy and girl at play!
Clouds o'erhead are blowing
That are charged with tears of trouble;
But the winds of God shall drive them on, to-day.
Dancing to the measure
Of benignant music's rapture,
How the melody their eagerness controls!
Lo! the sprite of pleasure
We so vainly strive to capture
Is the playmate and companion of their souls!
Of benignant music's rapture,
How the melody their eagerness controls!
Lo! the sprite of pleasure
We so vainly strive to capture
Is the playmate and companion of their souls!
34
Stodham Woods
I cannot tell where I have been,
This sweet fore-noon, with tempered tune,
Or worthy of the scene.
This sweet fore-noon, with tempered tune,
Or worthy of the scene.
This is the time when fresh primroses
Are in the forefront of Spring posies,
And nestling down between their groups
The violet stoops,
While still along the byway shine
Spring's natal stars, the celandine.
Are in the forefront of Spring posies,
And nestling down between their groups
The violet stoops,
While still along the byway shine
Spring's natal stars, the celandine.
Though the blackthorn's bloom is set,
Braving the chill breeze's bite
With blossom white,
Bracken-curls are stubborn yet!
Save those splashes of pale flowers,
Born in March, of April-showers,
The woods are brown, and dead leaves choke the bowers.
Braving the chill breeze's bite
With blossom white,
Bracken-curls are stubborn yet!
Save those splashes of pale flowers,
Born in March, of April-showers,
The woods are brown, and dead leaves choke the bowers.
So Nature seems to hesitate
Ere she assume her summer state;
Such buds are there that long to bloom,
Such glows impatient of the gloom;
So much there seems in act to sing,
Such wistfulness, such preluding!
Ere she assume her summer state;
Such buds are there that long to bloom,
Such glows impatient of the gloom;
So much there seems in act to sing,
Such wistfulness, such preluding!
35
I wandered where these pleasures meet;
The mossy path beneath my feet
As in a girdle clasped the hill,
Along whose base a tinkling rill
With gentle flood
Was whispering to the whispering wood.
The mossy path beneath my feet
As in a girdle clasped the hill,
Along whose base a tinkling rill
With gentle flood
Was whispering to the whispering wood.
Perchance it fears the open field,
That stretches to the seaward Downs,
And seeks in forest arms to shield
Its shyness from the proffered crowns,
The sun-enamelled green and gold,
Of meadows amorously bold.
That stretches to the seaward Downs,
And seeks in forest arms to shield
Its shyness from the proffered crowns,
The sun-enamelled green and gold,
Of meadows amorously bold.
Perchance—But ah! my spirit faints
In presence of these woodland saints!
Divinity of flower and tree,
And musing water's minstrelsy,
The building bird's hilarity,
The thrill, the frolic, and the glee,—
With these we hold no parity!
They foil the bards that master me!
In presence of these woodland saints!
Divinity of flower and tree,
And musing water's minstrelsy,
The building bird's hilarity,
The thrill, the frolic, and the glee,—
With these we hold no parity!
They foil the bards that master me!
36
The Rother
O river, flowing by the house
Where dwells my patient mother,
I bend to thee, I whisper close,—
Oh hear me, whispering Rother!
Where dwells my patient mother,
I bend to thee, I whisper close,—
Oh hear me, whispering Rother!
Faster than thou the time has slid
Since first I strolled beside thee,
But thou hast journeyed as God bid
And therefore joys betide thee!
Since first I strolled beside thee,
But thou hast journeyed as God bid
And therefore joys betide thee!
While I have run a wayward course;
My moods have kept no season;
Breaking the channel of my source
To follow Rhyme and Reason!
My moods have kept no season;
Breaking the channel of my source
To follow Rhyme and Reason!
But thou, where cattle love to browse
And doves call one another,
Flow on, dear river, by the house
Where dwells my patient mother!
And doves call one another,
Flow on, dear river, by the house
Where dwells my patient mother!
37
Ingens Aequor
“The huge various monotonies, the fervent and fluent
colours, the vast limits, the fresh sonorous strength, the
certain confusion and tumultuous law, the sense of windy
and weltering space, the intense refraction of shadow and
light, the crowded life and inanimate intricacy, the patience
and the passion of the sea.—A. C. Swinburne. “Essay on
William Blake.”
Come hither, O exquisite thought!
Come hither, O splendour of words!
Let a texture be woven and wrought,
Not to picture the flocks and the herds,
Not to celebrate forest or mead,
The loitering lapse of the rill,
The lisp of the breeze in the reed,
Or the gush of the wind on the hill,
The crypt of the midnight empearled
With the stars and the planets above,
The boisterous fame of the world,
Or the passionate silence of love,—
But in praise of the Sea; that immense
And vague glory of waters amassed;
That beauty transcending the sense,
Like a mirage, elusive and vast;
With shadow and image of cloud,
That palpitate, purple or pale,
With furrows of emerald, ploughed
By the murmuring, odorous gale;
With marvel of sunlight and mist,
With magic of mutable form,
With music of “wild waves whist,”
And slow subsidence of storm.
Come hither, O splendour of words!
Let a texture be woven and wrought,
Not to picture the flocks and the herds,
Not to celebrate forest or mead,
The loitering lapse of the rill,
The lisp of the breeze in the reed,
Or the gush of the wind on the hill,
The crypt of the midnight empearled
With the stars and the planets above,
The boisterous fame of the world,
Or the passionate silence of love,—
But in praise of the Sea; that immense
And vague glory of waters amassed;
That beauty transcending the sense,
Like a mirage, elusive and vast;
With shadow and image of cloud,
That palpitate, purple or pale,
38
By the murmuring, odorous gale;
With marvel of sunlight and mist,
With magic of mutable form,
With music of “wild waves whist,”
And slow subsidence of storm.
O chiming monotonous change!
O changeless melodious beat!
O refluent rhythmical range
Of fairy invisible feet!
The nations may traverse and trace
A populous path o'er the wave,
And with militant messages lace
The floor of the mariner's grave;
The peaks of the virginal snows
May be pierced for the clambering car;
The cleavage of ocean will close,
And his wounds have a transient scar!
The groves of the forest may fall,
The rivers grow black with the shame
Of their burden, the skies with their pall
Of the sulphurous refuse of flame;
War may trample o'er hill and o'er dale,
Trade may bruise all the fields with her tread,
The billow records not the trail
Of humanity, living or dead!
Unpolluted are channel and main,
Their breezes are fragrant and free;
Man cannot impress with his pain
The fugitive foam of the sea!
O changeless melodious beat!
O refluent rhythmical range
Of fairy invisible feet!
The nations may traverse and trace
A populous path o'er the wave,
And with militant messages lace
The floor of the mariner's grave;
The peaks of the virginal snows
May be pierced for the clambering car;
The cleavage of ocean will close,
And his wounds have a transient scar!
The groves of the forest may fall,
The rivers grow black with the shame
Of their burden, the skies with their pall
Of the sulphurous refuse of flame;
War may trample o'er hill and o'er dale,
Trade may bruise all the fields with her tread,
The billow records not the trail
Of humanity, living or dead!
Unpolluted are channel and main,
Their breezes are fragrant and free;
Man cannot impress with his pain
The fugitive foam of the sea!
39
At Cimiez
These olive-woods and orange-groves,
These tulips, harlequins of glee,
Yon flecks of cloud, like woolly droves,
Across the blue immensity,—
These tulips, harlequins of glee,
Yon flecks of cloud, like woolly droves,
Across the blue immensity,—
This ancient ilex, sombre green,
The hill where stood Diana's shrine,
The shimmering waters' distant sheen,—
Touch they your heart? They cannot mine!
The hill where stood Diana's shrine,
The shimmering waters' distant sheen,—
Touch they your heart? They cannot mine!
Man takes not Nature for his Saint,
Her beauty is no more his creed;
The very breezes bear a taint
Of his insatiable greed.
Her beauty is no more his creed;
The very breezes bear a taint
Of his insatiable greed.
As gladly, gluttonous for gain,
He digs the flowers and fells the trees,
So would he foul the sapphired main
Or tear the heavenly tapestries!
He digs the flowers and fells the trees,
So would he foul the sapphired main
Or tear the heavenly tapestries!
40
An Impression
A sound of the sea is in my ears,
Of the sea that knows no rest;
His muttering boughs the willow rears,
For a wind is in the west.
Of the sea that knows no rest;
His muttering boughs the willow rears,
For a wind is in the west.
A wind was born in the western sky
When the day was wed to night,
For bridals and birth the torch flared high
In the day-god's halls of light.
When the day was wed to night,
For bridals and birth the torch flared high
In the day-god's halls of light.
I stand on the river-shore alone,
And I gaze on the lordly scene,
On vanishing sun, and rising moon,
And the sable girth between.
And I gaze on the lordly scene,
On vanishing sun, and rising moon,
And the sable girth between.
42
Perfume
In love's delightful hours
We passed the mignonette
And plucked the blue-eyed flowers
That bade us Not Forget;
We passed the mignonette
And plucked the blue-eyed flowers
That bade us Not Forget;
But now the blue-eyed flowers
We pass and we forget;
The scent of those dear hours
Comes back with mignonette!
We pass and we forget;
The scent of those dear hours
Comes back with mignonette!
43
A Ballad of Cornwall
Sir Tristram lay by a well,
Making sad moan;
Fast his tears fell;
For wild the wood through,
Stricken with shrewd
Sorrow he ran,
When he deemed her untrue—
La Beale Isoud!
For he loved her alone.
Making sad moan;
Fast his tears fell;
For wild the wood through,
Stricken with shrewd
Sorrow he ran,
When he deemed her untrue—
La Beale Isoud!
For he loved her alone.
So as he lay
Wasted and wan,
Scarce like a man,
Pricking that way
His lady-love came,
With her damsels around,
And her face all aflame
With the breezes of May;
While a brachet beside her
Still bayed the fair rider,
Still leaped up and bayed her;
A small scenting hound
That Sir Tristram purveyed her.
Wasted and wan,
Scarce like a man,
Pricking that way
His lady-love came,
With her damsels around,
And her face all aflame
With the breezes of May;
While a brachet beside her
Still bayed the fair rider,
Still leaped up and bayed her;
A small scenting hound
That Sir Tristram purveyed her.
44
So she rode on;
But the brachet behind
Hung snuffing the wind;
Till seeking and crying
Faster and faster,
Beside the well lying
She found her dear master!
Then licking his ears
And cheeks wet with tears,
For joy never resting,
Kept whining and questing.
But the brachet behind
Hung snuffing the wind;
Till seeking and crying
Faster and faster,
Beside the well lying
She found her dear master!
Then licking his ears
And cheeks wet with tears,
For joy never resting,
Kept whining and questing.
Isoud (returned,
Seeking her hound)
Soon as she learned
Tristram was found,
Straightway alighting,
Fell in a swound.
Seeking her hound)
Soon as she learned
Tristram was found,
Straightway alighting,
Fell in a swound.
When, by her lover
Won to recover,
Isoud was lying
Pale and complying,
Who shall the greeting
Tell of their meeting?
Joy, by no tongue
E'er to be sung,
Passed in that plighting!
Won to recover,
Isoud was lying
Pale and complying,
Who shall the greeting
Tell of their meeting?
Joy, by no tongue
E'er to be sung,
Passed in that plighting!
Thus while they dallied,
Forth the wood sallied
An horrible libbard, and bare
The brachet away to his lair!
Forth the wood sallied
An horrible libbard, and bare
The brachet away to his lair!
45
The Riddle
Love, o'er-fond of straying,
Met with Kitty maying,—
Straight began this saying:
Met with Kitty maying,—
Straight began this saying:
“Maiden, tell me truly
What is Love?”
What is Love?”
And duly
Kitty made reply:
Kitty made reply:
“Ask of girls unruly!
Nought of Love know I!”
Nought of Love know I!”
Then said he:
“Beseech you
Tarry while I teach you!”
Tarry while I teach you!”
On a bank sat Kitty,
While he sang this ditty;
While he sang this ditty;
“Kin to all, yet kinless!
Sin of all, yet sinless!
Passion's purple festal!
Passion's proudest vestal!
Artist that can mould you
Till the selves that hold you
No more form nor fold you!
Both divine and human;
Far to seek, yet common;
Babbled of the many,
Hardly known of any!
Waving wings of feather,
Yet with strength to tether
Life and Death together!”
Sin of all, yet sinless!
Passion's purple festal!
Passion's proudest vestal!
Artist that can mould you
Till the selves that hold you
No more form nor fold you!
46
Far to seek, yet common;
Babbled of the many,
Hardly known of any!
Waving wings of feather,
Yet with strength to tether
Life and Death together!”
While he sang these snatches,
Down from russet thatches
Sparrows fly and buntings;
Martins, swifts, and swallows,
Whom the South wind follows,
Leave their mazy huntings;
Warblers crowd the willows;
While along the shallows
Trouts and graylings glisten;
Larks on cloudy billows,
Softly as on pillows,
Lay their songs, to listen!
Down from russet thatches
Sparrows fly and buntings;
Martins, swifts, and swallows,
Whom the South wind follows,
Leave their mazy huntings;
Warblers crowd the willows;
While along the shallows
Trouts and graylings glisten;
Larks on cloudy billows,
Softly as on pillows,
Lay their songs, to listen!
Every stalk of clover
Turns its head to hear him;
Buttercups lean over,
Striving to be near him;
Foxglove, fringing hedges,
Tilts her fairy flagon,
While from leafy ledges
Butterfly and dragon
Lean, and emmet-peoples
(Careless now of thrushes),
Whom the grass o'er-steeples,
Perch on reeds and rushes!
Turns its head to hear him;
Buttercups lean over,
Striving to be near him;
Foxglove, fringing hedges,
Tilts her fairy flagon,
While from leafy ledges
Butterfly and dragon
Lean, and emmet-peoples
(Careless now of thrushes),
Whom the grass o'er-steeples,
Perch on reeds and rushes!
47
Paddock, newt, and lizard,
Mole and vole and rabbit
Fear no more the wizard
Snake in emerald habit;
Charmed he lies; but drowsing
Owls in eyries waken;
While the fields of browsing
Cattle are forsaken!
Creatures throng delighted,—
Running, creeping, winging! . . .
Only Kitty slighted
Love's old-fashioned singing!
Mole and vole and rabbit
Fear no more the wizard
Snake in emerald habit;
Charmed he lies; but drowsing
Owls in eyries waken;
While the fields of browsing
Cattle are forsaken!
Creatures throng delighted,—
Running, creeping, winging! . . .
Only Kitty slighted
Love's old-fashioned singing!
She alone, that ditty
Hearing, dared to flout it;
“Love?” she cried: “'tis pity
Nought you know about it!”
Hearing, dared to flout it;
“Love?” she cried: “'tis pity
Nought you know about it!”
48
The Eternal Conflict
LuisRefined and penetrated
By God's refulgent fire,
In body separated,
Our spirits shall aspire,
In holy love embracing,
The mystic mount to climb,
Beyond the sin enchasing,
Beyond the reach of Time;
Until those purple petals
Round Love Divine involved,
Intense as molten metals,
Saints, martyrs, and absolved,
In Paradise expanding,
All pain with peace allay,
That passes understanding,
And none can take away!
Pepita
Alas! I cannot follow
Your spirit in its flight!
Such Love to me seems hollow
And empty of delight!
49
Your shadow and your name;
I love your voice and gesture,—
Your self! and feel no shame!
The folly of my senses
Can Death alone efface!
For Love in fond offences
Finds sacramental grace!
My heart, though clayed and clodded,
Has flowered without a stain!
Pepita disembodied
Must be Pepita slain!
50
The Homily
Who preaches Love is wrong
No flower must ever see,
Nor hear the song-bird's song
Deride his homily!
No flower must ever see,
Nor hear the song-bird's song
Deride his homily!
Who teaches Love was made
Accurs'd, must never be
Where all the summer glade
Derides his homily!
Accurs'd, must never be
Where all the summer glade
Derides his homily!
How foolish Man's arraignment
Of Love, whose strength of mirth
Enforces an enchainment
On the sorrow of the Earth!
Of Love, whose strength of mirth
Enforces an enchainment
On the sorrow of the Earth!
51
Love at First Sight
Love at first sight, be true
Once, in the world's despite!
Once, in a season due,
Souls that are kin unite!
Once let our hearts pursue
Trace of a lost delight!
Love at first sight, be true!
Love at the first sweet sight!
Once, in the world's despite!
Once, in a season due,
Souls that are kin unite!
Once let our hearts pursue
Trace of a lost delight!
Love at first sight, be true!
Love at the first sweet sight!
Love as of old appear!
Now, though the world be cold!
Now, though the cynic sneer,
Soul into soul enfold!
Now to the world endear
Passion instead of gold!
Love as of old appear!
Love, as they loved of old!
Now, though the world be cold!
Now, though the cynic sneer,
Soul into soul enfold!
Now to the world endear
Passion instead of gold!
Love as of old appear!
Love, as they loved of old!
52
Pure Imagination
She lies in her little room
And all around her creep
The quietness and gloom
And the sacredness of sleep.
And all around her creep
The quietness and gloom
And the sacredness of sleep.
My spirit breaks the seals
Of jealous night's duress,
And close beside her steals
To watch her loveliness.
Of jealous night's duress,
And close beside her steals
To watch her loveliness.
There droops her flower-like head,
Petalled and rayed with curls!
An aster of golden-red
The leafage of night enfurls!
Petalled and rayed with curls!
An aster of golden-red
The leafage of night enfurls!
Ah me! She lies in her couch
Like a babe on its mother's breast;
And my spirit is fain to crouch
Back to its lone unrest.
Like a babe on its mother's breast;
And my spirit is fain to crouch
Back to its lone unrest.
53
The Singer's Search
In vain o'er all the land I wander
Still far from me my darling hies,
In vain I sing my ditties tender,
I hear but echo's mocking cries!
Ah! lonely, lonely through the world I wander;
Red o'er the hills I see the morning rise,
And happy creatures wake, Love's hours to squander,
Till charmed to sleep, by night's enchanting eyes;
Still lonely, lonely through the world I wander,
And like a shadow, Love before me flies!
Still far from me my darling hies,
In vain I sing my ditties tender,
I hear but echo's mocking cries!
Ah! lonely, lonely through the world I wander;
Red o'er the hills I see the morning rise,
And happy creatures wake, Love's hours to squander,
Till charmed to sleep, by night's enchanting eyes;
Still lonely, lonely through the world I wander,
And like a shadow, Love before me flies!
In vain I search through every city,
Still far from me my darling hies;
In vain I sing my tender ditty,
She never to my voice replies!
Ah! lonely, lonely through the sleepless city,
Amid the jostling crowd a minstrel sighs;
The seekers after pleasure gaze with pity,
The seekers after wealth with scornful eyes;
Still lonely, lonely through the sleepless city
I follow Love, and Love before me flies.
Still far from me my darling hies;
In vain I sing my tender ditty,
She never to my voice replies!
Ah! lonely, lonely through the sleepless city,
Amid the jostling crowd a minstrel sighs;
The seekers after pleasure gaze with pity,
The seekers after wealth with scornful eyes;
Still lonely, lonely through the sleepless city
I follow Love, and Love before me flies.
54
At Last
At last, my love, thou comest, though so late;
Upon thy bosom I retrieve some hours;
There is a scent again of summer flowers,
Surviving the first breath of winter's hate:
Thy voice that never chides me, though ingrate,
Is like the song of joy-birds in their bowers
Not yet deserted, though the blossom showers,
And all the gadding breezes whisper Fate.
Upon thy bosom I retrieve some hours;
There is a scent again of summer flowers,
Surviving the first breath of winter's hate:
Thy voice that never chides me, though ingrate,
Is like the song of joy-birds in their bowers
Not yet deserted, though the blossom showers,
And all the gadding breezes whisper Fate.
Yet, O my love, where wert thou in the days
When I was searching all the summer long
On sultry plains and barren mountain ways?
Why did I never hear thy trysting song?
Ah! long, lost hours, worn out in sad amaze!
Scarce for Time's gift can I forgive his wrong!
When I was searching all the summer long
On sultry plains and barren mountain ways?
Why did I never hear thy trysting song?
Ah! long, lost hours, worn out in sad amaze!
Scarce for Time's gift can I forgive his wrong!
55
Nellie
When shadows are breaking
And dawn is at hand,
When morning is making
New mirth in the land,
No fairer it brightens
Than, pure of all blame,
The soul that enlightens
Your face with its flame!
And dawn is at hand,
When morning is making
New mirth in the land,
No fairer it brightens
Than, pure of all blame,
The soul that enlightens
Your face with its flame!
The world, vainly asking,
May peer in your eyes
For modesty masking
Or truth in disguise;
There innocence dwelling
Returns, like a dove
The serpent repelling,
A look full of love!
May peer in your eyes
For modesty masking
Or truth in disguise;
There innocence dwelling
Returns, like a dove
The serpent repelling,
A look full of love!
56
Moieties
It seems most strange that thou and I
Should not have met in years gone by;
It seems most strange that souls so mated
To long disunion should be fated.
Should not have met in years gone by;
It seems most strange that souls so mated
To long disunion should be fated.
Few, few indeed, dare trust their bark
Upon life's waters deep and dark
With hope to find a land of rest,
An isle by Cytherea blest.
Upon life's waters deep and dark
With hope to find a land of rest,
An isle by Cytherea blest.
Perhaps few need or seek for more
Than coasting by their native shore,
Where they may gain in many a cove
Safe anchor, unpresumptuous love!
Than coasting by their native shore,
Where they may gain in many a cove
Safe anchor, unpresumptuous love!
The few that great ideals cherish
On mountains and in deserts perish,
Fringed by delusive herbs and trees,
That beckon to the homeless seas.
On mountains and in deserts perish,
Fringed by delusive herbs and trees,
That beckon to the homeless seas.
Upon the sand they thrust their prow,
They stake life's treasure on the throw;
The hungry sea comes up behind,
Before them shrieks the desert wind!
They stake life's treasure on the throw;
The hungry sea comes up behind,
Before them shrieks the desert wind!
57
How happy, if on waste or mountain
An unsuspected vale or fountain
The wanderer find! More happy he,
If there he meet a nymph like thee;
An unsuspected vale or fountain
The wanderer find! More happy he,
If there he meet a nymph like thee;
Who never learnt 'neath Christian spires
The virtue of concealed desires,
Nor tainted with a careful coldness
The purity of true love's boldness;
The virtue of concealed desires,
Nor tainted with a careful coldness
The purity of true love's boldness;
Nor yet destroyed love's heavenly fruit
By plucking up his earthly root,
Nor set up Principle above
The larger principle of Love!
By plucking up his earthly root,
Nor set up Principle above
The larger principle of Love!
58
Predestination
Ah yes! Ah yes! I had my dream!
Fantastical creations!
Down roaring street, by rustic stream,
In fairy habitations!
Fantastical creations!
Down roaring street, by rustic stream,
In fairy habitations!
Some bore a mild and modest mien,
And some behaved more lightly,
And others hovered just between
The saintly and the sprightly.
And some behaved more lightly,
And others hovered just between
The saintly and the sprightly.
But God, to guard the senses, set
A form of finer essence
Within my heart; before we met
I learnt to love your presence!
A form of finer essence
Within my heart; before we met
I learnt to love your presence!
Deep calls to deep and flame to flame!
Afar, my spirit owned you;
I saw you long before you came,
And welcomed and enthroned you!
Afar, my spirit owned you;
I saw you long before you came,
And welcomed and enthroned you!
59
Soul to Soul
These eyes where laughing Loves recline,
These lips that just divided pout
To let the fluttering kisses out,
Like birds from Love's own shrine,—
To pain or please
You gave me these;
But still I ask, will You be mine?
In weal or woe, in Love's eternal bond,
In life and death, and all that lies beyond,
Will You be mine?
These lips that just divided pout
To let the fluttering kisses out,
Like birds from Love's own shrine,—
To pain or please
You gave me these;
But still I ask, will You be mine?
In weal or woe, in Love's eternal bond,
In life and death, and all that lies beyond,
Will You be mine?
These glances that so ardent shine,
These words that come with reckless rout
And rush of passion thronging out,
Sweet vows at Love's own shrine,—
To pain or please
You give me these;
But still I ask, will You be mine?
In weal or woe, in Love's eternal bond,
In life and death, and all that lies beyond,
Will You be mine?
These words that come with reckless rout
And rush of passion thronging out,
Sweet vows at Love's own shrine,—
To pain or please
You give me these;
But still I ask, will You be mine?
In weal or woe, in Love's eternal bond,
In life and death, and all that lies beyond,
Will You be mine?
60
For Ever
I joy or grieve
Alone for thee!
Like birds in mating feather,
When nests they weave
In wonted tree,
Our spirits cleave
Together!
Alone for thee!
Like birds in mating feather,
When nests they weave
In wonted tree,
Our spirits cleave
Together!
Though death removes
And grants no grace
To all love's dear endeavour,
It still behooves
My soul to chase
My only love's
For ever!
And grants no grace
To all love's dear endeavour,
It still behooves
My soul to chase
My only love's
For ever!
61
Aliquid Amari
I heard a sailor singing, as he leaned against the shrouds;
The ocean fled beneath him and above him flew the clouds;
And the breezes moaned in answer, and the voices of the main:
“However happy Love may be, the core of Love is pain.”
The ocean fled beneath him and above him flew the clouds;
And the breezes moaned in answer, and the voices of the main:
“However happy Love may be, the core of Love is pain.”
The breezes learnt the burden, and murmured to the land;
The sailor's wife was sitting in her cottage by the strand;
And when she heard them whisper, her heart replied again:
“However happy Love may be, the core of Love is pain.”
The sailor's wife was sitting in her cottage by the strand;
And when she heard them whisper, her heart replied again:
“However happy Love may be, the core of Love is pain.”
They left the woman weeping and hurried to the town,
Where gallant lads and ladies were walking up and down;
To each they told their message, and all confessed it plain:
“However happy Love may be, the core of Love is pain.”
Where gallant lads and ladies were walking up and down;
To each they told their message, and all confessed it plain:
“However happy Love may be, the core of Love is pain.”
62
Then hearken, all ye lovers! Be mindful, when ye meet,
To promise nought or little ere this proverb ye repeat;
Ye surely shall have proof thereof; ye shall not speak in vain:
“However happy Love may be, the core of Love is pain.”
To promise nought or little ere this proverb ye repeat;
Ye surely shall have proof thereof; ye shall not speak in vain:
“However happy Love may be, the core of Love is pain.”
63
Fervaal
Higher and higher, O Human Race,
The Law of Sex shall lead thee on;
The glory of the Eternal Face,—
The Father, Mother, and the Son.
The Law of Sex shall lead thee on;
The glory of the Eternal Face,—
The Father, Mother, and the Son.
Thou shalt not leave the joy behind,
But wilful pleasure shall grow less,
When thou hast learnt the impassioned mind
Of Love in all his loveliness;
But wilful pleasure shall grow less,
When thou hast learnt the impassioned mind
Of Love in all his loveliness;
When thou from dread of lust art free,
The secret of Religion's rule,
When thou hast lawful liberty
And all thy teachers are at school.
The secret of Religion's rule,
When thou hast lawful liberty
And all thy teachers are at school.
The Woman-Spirit leads the Man;
Higher and higher I see them climb,
The pilgrims of a trackless plan,
Among the folded hills of Time.
Higher and higher I see them climb,
The pilgrims of a trackless plan,
Among the folded hills of Time.
65
Epitaphs
Dante
Crooning Earth has cradled wellMe that plunged to crypts of Hell,
Me that climbed the heavenly dome,
Wearied out and welcomed home.
Keats
Not “in water,”—but the floodThat with passionate impulse beats!
Every youthful poet's blood
Spells the sacred name of Keats.
A Fool
Stranger, stay! yet shed no tear;For a fool lies buried here;
Yet, since he unfinished lies,
God in time may make him wise.
66
A Wise Man
Stranger, weep! Beneath this stoneLies a man for knowledge known:
Yet, since he was wholly wise,
God forbade him Paradise.
A Fair Woman
In this green chest is laid awayThe fairest frock she ever wore;
It clothed her both by night and day,
And none shall wear it evermore.
An Infant
This sweet infant never knewWhat a woman's lips can do!
Yet a woman's lips no less
Brought him to this loneliness.
A Wife
Once I learnt in wilful hourHow to vex him; still I keep,
Now unwilfully, my power:
Every day he comes to weep.
A Soul
Underneath this turvéd mouldLies a creature late unsouled:
Birds of paradise contrive
Ill in crystal cage to thrive.
67
A Waif
Hither was she brought unknown;Now to love and knowledge grown,
She has journeyed back alone.
Beaten
In the arms of Death I curled,Unadjusted to the World:
All too fierce the World has proved,
Because I loved, because I loved.
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