 | Preludes and Romances |  |
21
II
PRELUDE: AT PEVENSEY CASTLE
The year had put her sombre raiment by,
The earth her snowy mantle long forgot;
The lark's song rippled down the radiant sky,
The full-toned ousel thrilled the gardenplat;
All meadows were as pleasances, all seas
As quiet lakes made for delight and ease.
The earth her snowy mantle long forgot;
The lark's song rippled down the radiant sky,
The full-toned ousel thrilled the gardenplat;
All meadows were as pleasances, all seas
As quiet lakes made for delight and ease.
Then on a joyous eventide of June
Again the seven light hearts set out together,
With footsteps dancing and with thoughts in tune
To Nature's gladness and the golden weather,
To where the far-seen walls of Pevensey
Rise from the levels, ivied, green, and grey.
Again the seven light hearts set out together,
With footsteps dancing and with thoughts in tune
To Nature's gladness and the golden weather,
To where the far-seen walls of Pevensey
Rise from the levels, ivied, green, and grey.
22
Ruined the place lies on the wide green lea,
As on a lone shore a long-stranded ship,
Forgotten plaything of the inconstant sea,
Lies ruined; her no more the wavelets lip
Nor billows buffet, nor her sailors' cry
Sounds o'er the darkening waters lustily.
As on a lone shore a long-stranded ship,
Forgotten plaything of the inconstant sea,
Lies ruined; her no more the wavelets lip
Nor billows buffet, nor her sailors' cry
Sounds o'er the darkening waters lustily.
The sand o'erflowing gluts her roofless hold;
Stark are her ribs that kept the storms at bay,
No more of service, though they stand as bold
And apt of curve as on her keeling-day;
A thousand she hath mothered: now not one
Cares that she once was fair to look upon.
Stark are her ribs that kept the storms at bay,
No more of service, though they stand as bold
And apt of curve as on her keeling-day;
A thousand she hath mothered: now not one
Cares that she once was fair to look upon.
Nor here is any life, or labouring hand,
Or busy market, or defending arm;
The walls, the towers, men toiled so long at, stand
Outworn defences 'gainst forgotten harm;
The grass that buries all things hath hid deep
The hearth and roof-tree as the midden-heap.
Or busy market, or defending arm;
The walls, the towers, men toiled so long at, stand
Outworn defences 'gainst forgotten harm;
The grass that buries all things hath hid deep
The hearth and roof-tree as the midden-heap.
23
The Roman city and Norman citadel
Are now one ruin, though their builders wrought
A thousand years disparted. The green swell
Of earth untrampled lies where Briton fought
So fiercely with the engulfing Saxon horde,
And Saxon slaved for Norman overlord.
Are now one ruin, though their builders wrought
A thousand years disparted. The green swell
Of earth untrampled lies where Briton fought
So fiercely with the engulfing Saxon horde,
And Saxon slaved for Norman overlord.
There they re-gathered from old chroniclers
The scanty record; saw what was of yore
Pictured by guess-work of geographers,
And pieced to shape by antiquarian lore;
Until the Present to the Past gave place,
And earth before them wore her ancient face.
The scanty record; saw what was of yore
Pictured by guess-work of geographers,
And pieced to shape by antiquarian lore;
Until the Present to the Past gave place,
And earth before them wore her ancient face.
Rose to their eyes in necromantic dream
Wide marshes, tide-brimmed to a bright lagoon,
Where, like November leaves upon a stream,
The low bird-haunted eyots hung a-swoon;
Till on the chiefest island grew one day
The Roman fortress of Anderida.
Wide marshes, tide-brimmed to a bright lagoon,
Where, like November leaves upon a stream,
The low bird-haunted eyots hung a-swoon;
Till on the chiefest island grew one day
The Roman fortress of Anderida.
24
They saw the sentries, pacing on the wall,
Look northward to the low hills, forest-crowned,
Whence danger of the wild men might befall,
And southward to the sea from out whose bound
The swift sea-snake-like Saxon galleys came
With threat perpetual of sword and flame.
Look northward to the low hills, forest-crowned,
Whence danger of the wild men might befall,
And southward to the sea from out whose bound
The swift sea-snake-like Saxon galleys came
With threat perpetual of sword and flame.
Till, when the waves of earthquake swept the world,
Ring upon ring, as giant Rome went down,
Thick as the snowflakes on the north wind whirled,
The wild barbarian swooped on city and town;
Vain were these marshes and these ramparts vain;
To the last man were the defenders slain.
Ring upon ring, as giant Rome went down,
Thick as the snowflakes on the north wind whirled,
The wild barbarian swooped on city and town;
Vain were these marshes and these ramparts vain;
To the last man were the defenders slain.
Then in their talk they turned a later page,
And saw the Norman vessels fill the bay.
“Almost,” said one, “these walls might see engage
The flashing hosts on Senlac's fateful day;
Ev'n yet the eye on yon far upland sees
Or fancies the great Abbey 'mid the trees.”
And saw the Norman vessels fill the bay.
“Almost,” said one, “these walls might see engage
The flashing hosts on Senlac's fateful day;
Ev'n yet the eye on yon far upland sees
Or fancies the great Abbey 'mid the trees.”
25
Like little paper boats by children urged
From the still margin out to the strong stream,
So fancy, lightly loosed, was caught and merged
In the full current of historic dream;
And age on age they touched, and England's power
And fortune followed to the actual hour.
From the still margin out to the strong stream,
So fancy, lightly loosed, was caught and merged
In the full current of historic dream;
And age on age they touched, and England's power
And fortune followed to the actual hour.
Then one: “What help hath History, or what gain
The tale half told, half guessed-at, of dead days?
A chilling mist that rises from past rain;
A ghost that frights us from light-hearted ways;
A parent's grief that darkens needlessly
A child's delight and glooms its hour of glee.
The tale half told, half guessed-at, of dead days?
A chilling mist that rises from past rain;
A ghost that frights us from light-hearted ways;
A parent's grief that darkens needlessly
A child's delight and glooms its hour of glee.
“Oh, it were happier to record no strife,
To note no battle-fields, to mark no graves,
To drink untainted our own draught of life,
And all unwistful watch the laughing waves;
Blithely as they to dance in sunny hours,
Sad only when the heaven above us lowers.
To note no battle-fields, to mark no graves,
To drink untainted our own draught of life,
And all unwistful watch the laughing waves;
Blithely as they to dance in sunny hours,
Sad only when the heaven above us lowers.
26
“Strong is the race that hath no memory left
Of its own past, except the hero-tale
Or legend long-descended, a bright weft
New-broidered on dim patterns worn and pale.
The Tree of Knowledge yields no strong-man's meat;
High purpose fails, fed on this evil sweet.”
Of its own past, except the hero-tale
Or legend long-descended, a bright weft
New-broidered on dim patterns worn and pale.
The Tree of Knowledge yields no strong-man's meat;
High purpose fails, fed on this evil sweet.”
“Aye,” said another; “yet what hand may guide
The set career and destiny of Man?
To say 'Twere better thus or thus; to chide
Light fancy, or by philosophic plan
Bind racial energies—this were a thing
Vain-tempted as to check a planet's swing.
The set career and destiny of Man?
To say 'Twere better thus or thus; to chide
Light fancy, or by philosophic plan
Bind racial energies—this were a thing
Vain-tempted as to check a planet's swing.
“We ride a rolling wave, and boast advance;
We set the sail and labour with the oar
To hasten or retard the moving chance,
That bears us helpless to an unknown shore;
And, proud of motion, like the Pharisee,
Thank God we are not as men used to be.
We set the sail and labour with the oar
To hasten or retard the moving chance,
That bears us helpless to an unknown shore;
And, proud of motion, like the Pharisee,
Thank God we are not as men used to be.
27
“O evil time when tender hearts were naught!
O cruel hands that could no mercy show!
O dark and heathen days ere pity taught
To spare the weak and tend the wounded foe!
Ev'n thus we murmur in our self-content,
Sure that we face the fixèd Orient.
O cruel hands that could no mercy show!
O dark and heathen days ere pity taught
To spare the weak and tend the wounded foe!
Ev'n thus we murmur in our self-content,
Sure that we face the fixèd Orient.
“We marvel that of such rude loins are we,
The flower of human kind, begot and born;
Nor question which to better end might be,
Our soft lives or the barbarism we scorn.
The wave rolls on; the generations ride
Secure of progress each in its own pride.”
The flower of human kind, begot and born;
Nor question which to better end might be,
Our soft lives or the barbarism we scorn.
The wave rolls on; the generations ride
Secure of progress each in its own pride.”
“O ravens 'mid the ruins!” laughed a voice
Low, girlish, light-of-heart. “The soft June air
Itself reproves your croaking. To my choice
Better a fool's hope than wise man's despair.
Let dismal Yesterday and dark To-morrow,
Seër and sage, take thought for their own sorrow!
Low, girlish, light-of-heart. “The soft June air
Itself reproves your croaking. To my choice
Better a fool's hope than wise man's despair.
Let dismal Yesterday and dark To-morrow,
Seër and sage, take thought for their own sorrow!
28
“Hath not our poet aught to fit the day,
The mouldered place, the melting evening mood?
For to a heart-sick world the poet's lay
'Twixt hope and wan-hope is a healing food.”
Came answer: “Will ye hear another tale
Rudely re-fashioned from that parchment pale?”
The mouldered place, the melting evening mood?
For to a heart-sick world the poet's lay
'Twixt hope and wan-hope is a healing food.”
Came answer: “Will ye hear another tale
Rudely re-fashioned from that parchment pale?”
There is a tower tall-rising, scarred and rent,
Of Norman's building; and a broad-topped wall
Beneath it. Here in sunshine and the scent
Of golden wall-flowers, looking wide o'er all
From emerald plain to purple promontory,
Silent they sat to hear the poet's story.
Of Norman's building; and a broad-topped wall
Beneath it. Here in sunshine and the scent
Of golden wall-flowers, looking wide o'er all
From emerald plain to purple promontory,
Silent they sat to hear the poet's story.
29
THE DEBATE OF THE LADY VENUS AND THE VIRGIN MARY
Lone in a lonely land of wooded vales
Queen Venus had a temple anciently;
White dove-wings beat around it, and soft gales
Blew spices thither from the neighbour sea.
There was her ritual purest, and no sin
'Gainst man or nature ever entered in.
Queen Venus had a temple anciently;
White dove-wings beat around it, and soft gales
Blew spices thither from the neighbour sea.
There was her ritual purest, and no sin
'Gainst man or nature ever entered in.
Where was this land is now no word to tell,
But somewhere in the warm west lands it lay;
And seeing that now the world is mapped so well,
Some place it may be where men live to-day;
And for my part I would my faith advance
This temple lay in some fair nook of France.
But somewhere in the warm west lands it lay;
And seeing that now the world is mapped so well,
Some place it may be where men live to-day;
And for my part I would my faith advance
This temple lay in some fair nook of France.
30
But when the Cross triumphant beat to dust
The antique temples and the old-world creeds,
From this her temple was Queen Venus thrust,
And devilish were accounted all her deeds;
But, for the place itself was fit and fair,
For the New Faith they raised a temple there.
The antique temples and the old-world creeds,
From this her temple was Queen Venus thrust,
And devilish were accounted all her deeds;
But, for the place itself was fit and fair,
For the New Faith they raised a temple there.
Through doors rich-carven with cadaverous saints
Passed in the sad-robed brotherhood to prayer
In lamplit darkness, where the mingled taints
Of dead-men's bones and incense filled the air
With holy drowse about the sculptured tombs,
High-soaring pillars, and low-vaulted glooms.
Passed in the sad-robed brotherhood to prayer
In lamplit darkness, where the mingled taints
Of dead-men's bones and incense filled the air
With holy drowse about the sculptured tombs,
High-soaring pillars, and low-vaulted glooms.
Many a saint was carved there, many a king
From finial stared with sightless eyes of stone;
But chiefest the Maid-mother, pitying,
Held in her arms her babe, and stood alone,
Human amid the inhumanities,
Listening the whole world's whispered agonies.
From finial stared with sightless eyes of stone;
But chiefest the Maid-mother, pitying,
Held in her arms her babe, and stood alone,
Human amid the inhumanities,
Listening the whole world's whispered agonies.
31
Passed the slow-footed ages, and the fame
Of ancient Venus long had been forgot;
Lost from the people's language was her name;
Till once it fell that in the sacred plot
A labourer, delving deep below the ground,
A wondrous woman all of marble found.
Of ancient Venus long had been forgot;
Lost from the people's language was her name;
Till once it fell that in the sacred plot
A labourer, delving deep below the ground,
A wondrous woman all of marble found.
The Prior was a lettered man of Rome,
And touched with the New Learning. He perceived
At once the white-limbed goddess of the foam,
And joyed in such a treasure so retrieved;
And to the Chapter-house he bade them bear
The wonderful white woman with due care.
And touched with the New Learning. He perceived
At once the white-limbed goddess of the foam,
And joyed in such a treasure so retrieved;
And to the Chapter-house he bade them bear
The wonderful white woman with due care.
So came the banished goddess back once more
To her old habitation. In the even
Glimmered her glorious whiteness as of yore
Through the dusk chamber, and a wondrous sweven
That night on all the sleeping brothers came,
And in the morn, lo, each had dreamed the same.
To her old habitation. In the even
Glimmered her glorious whiteness as of yore
Through the dusk chamber, and a wondrous sweven
That night on all the sleeping brothers came,
And in the morn, lo, each had dreamed the same.
32
The night was at its blackest, the vast vault
Silent and dark as some deep ocean cave,
Whose echoes never whisper doth assault,
Nor ray pierced ever the thick ponderous wave;
Only before the Mother and the Child
One ruby star burnt like a beacon mild.
Silent and dark as some deep ocean cave,
Whose echoes never whisper doth assault,
Nor ray pierced ever the thick ponderous wave;
Only before the Mother and the Child
One ruby star burnt like a beacon mild.
Suddenly out of darkness spake a voice,
Softer than the first bird that wakes the morn,
And sweeter than the flutings that rejoice
The mid-June starlight from the flowered thorn;
“I am come again,” it said, “unto mine own.
Woman, what dost thou in the goddess' throne?”
Softer than the first bird that wakes the morn,
And sweeter than the flutings that rejoice
The mid-June starlight from the flowered thorn;
“I am come again,” it said, “unto mine own.
Woman, what dost thou in the goddess' throne?”
The little ruby fire leapt suddenly,
Like the quick flushing of a maiden's cheek;
And answer breathed as sweet of melody
And soft of murmur, but of tone more meek;
“This church,” it said, “these altars are mine own.
What false god claimeth Christ his Mother's throne?”
Like the quick flushing of a maiden's cheek;
And answer breathed as sweet of melody
And soft of murmur, but of tone more meek;
“This church,” it said, “these altars are mine own.
What false god claimeth Christ his Mother's throne?”
33
Then came the answer, like a clear-toned bell
That soundeth but one note, and yet doth thrill
The throbbing air with various fall and swell,
And ranging undertones, both deep and shrill,
Half heard, half fancied by the entrancèd ear,
And full of meanings of delight or fear:
That soundeth but one note, and yet doth thrill
The throbbing air with various fall and swell,
And ranging undertones, both deep and shrill,
Half heard, half fancied by the entrancèd ear,
And full of meanings of delight or fear:
“The natural delight of earth is mine,
The joyous instinct in all things that breathe;
The animal desire I made divine,
And sweet as flowers that did my altars wreathe,
I was a goddess lawful and devout,
And lawful lovers thronged my feet about.
The joyous instinct in all things that breathe;
The animal desire I made divine,
And sweet as flowers that did my altars wreathe,
I was a goddess lawful and devout,
And lawful lovers thronged my feet about.
“Where are the half-god heroes of my day,
The noble faces and the glorious limbs,
The free decorous souls? These are not they,
The lank-limbed starvelings, droning prayers and hymns,
The creed-cramped souls, the dogma-darkened eyes,
Who blacken earth to heighten Paradise.”
The noble faces and the glorious limbs,
The free decorous souls? These are not they,
The lank-limbed starvelings, droning prayers and hymns,
The creed-cramped souls, the dogma-darkened eyes,
Who blacken earth to heighten Paradise.”
34
A shudder through the dreaming brothers ran,
And lips of sleepers muttered “Blasphemy!”
One only sighed, remembering a man
How like himself, could like so unlike be!—
Ha! retro Satanas!—Yet how deep he sighed,
And in his sleep a name, not sainted, cried.
And lips of sleepers muttered “Blasphemy!”
One only sighed, remembering a man
How like himself, could like so unlike be!—
Ha! retro Satanas!—Yet how deep he sighed,
And in his sleep a name, not sainted, cried.
And to the sleepers in their dreams 'twas known
A high debate now heralded afar;
The church walls widened each way, and a throne
Was set on each side, where, like evening star
And morning star, each rival glorious Queen
Looked on the other, over space between.
A high debate now heralded afar;
The church walls widened each way, and a throne
Was set on each side, where, like evening star
And morning star, each rival glorious Queen
Looked on the other, over space between.
Ah! but to pen the faces of the twain!
The glowing palate should grow blanched and pale,
That would attempt such ineffectual pain;
And how must words, the tongue's tired drudges, fail
To fire the sluggard fancy with the sense
Of such love-kindling soft magnificence!
The glowing palate should grow blanched and pale,
That would attempt such ineffectual pain;
And how must words, the tongue's tired drudges, fail
To fire the sluggard fancy with the sense
Of such love-kindling soft magnificence!
35
Each claimed her empire in the name of Love;
This love the Elysium where right lovers dwell;
And this the haven of sorrow, spread above,
And wide wing-shelter from the hounds of Hell.
Innumerable thousands thronged each throne,
Claiming the empire for the One alone.
This love the Elysium where right lovers dwell;
And this the haven of sorrow, spread above,
And wide wing-shelter from the hounds of Hell.
Innumerable thousands thronged each throne,
Claiming the empire for the One alone.
And seemed those wondrous faces, as each prayer,
Each life lived in their service faithfully,
Had brought some added consecration there,
And filled them to a fuller deity;
As thickening raindrops to the sunlit bow
Glory on glory add and glow on glow.
Each life lived in their service faithfully,
Had brought some added consecration there,
And filled them to a fuller deity;
As thickening raindrops to the sunlit bow
Glory on glory add and glow on glow.
Who spake the first? Ev'n she the challenger,
The outlawed goddess of the golden day
Of Hellas; Aphrodite called they her
In syllables so musical to say,
That men have loved her for her very name,
Before a baser age defiled its fame.
The outlawed goddess of the golden day
Of Hellas; Aphrodite called they her
In syllables so musical to say,
That men have loved her for her very name,
Before a baser age defiled its fame.
36
Hark with what dropping music she begins,
Preluding, as the April nightingale,
In shy sweet gusts of song, before she wins
Full utterance! For she hath one to assail
High-seated, whom no old Olympian vaunt
Vanquisheth, nor doth lofty challenge daunt.
Preluding, as the April nightingale,
In shy sweet gusts of song, before she wins
Full utterance! For she hath one to assail
High-seated, whom no old Olympian vaunt
Vanquisheth, nor doth lofty challenge daunt.
“Glad is the world and made for happy things,
Light hearts and joyous lovers. It is I
Who lend the flower its hue, the bird his wings,
And to the soul of man its ecstasy.”
Lightly she carolled like a happy child.
More sober answer made the Mother mild.
Light hearts and joyous lovers. It is I
Who lend the flower its hue, the bird his wings,
And to the soul of man its ecstasy.”
Lightly she carolled like a happy child.
More sober answer made the Mother mild.
“Sad is the world, full of unhappiness,
Death brooding over all. 'Tis I who balm
Torn hearts that need a mother's tenderness,
And on the seas of shipwreck whisper calm.”
Oh, soft, oh, sweet, oh, like a mother's tone!
Her rival even did the music own.
Death brooding over all. 'Tis I who balm
Torn hearts that need a mother's tenderness,
And on the seas of shipwreck whisper calm.”
Oh, soft, oh, sweet, oh, like a mother's tone!
Her rival even did the music own.
37
“There is a beauty in the hurt made whole,
In love that leavens anguish; but the dead
Are nothing, and much mourning makes the soul
Fade as a ghost, on dead men's manna fed.
Live! for the Spring comes yearly, and the rose;
And earth is the right heritage of those.”
In love that leavens anguish; but the dead
Are nothing, and much mourning makes the soul
Fade as a ghost, on dead men's manna fed.
Live! for the Spring comes yearly, and the rose;
And earth is the right heritage of those.”
“Nay but of others also,” came reply,
“The flower worm-ruined, and the wind-rent leaf;
And truth is prospered oft by those that die,
And love made yet more beautiful by grief.
Who leaves his joy to lighten others' pain,
Makes earth more rich than beauty without stain.”
“The flower worm-ruined, and the wind-rent leaf;
And truth is prospered oft by those that die,
And love made yet more beautiful by grief.
Who leaves his joy to lighten others' pain,
Makes earth more rich than beauty without stain.”
“There,” cried the other, “is our node of strife,
If earth be for the happy or the sad.
Why should the worthier be the wounded life?
If life be good, the best life is the glad.
Look how all young things dance for life's delight.
The nearer to the source is life more bright.”
If earth be for the happy or the sad.
Why should the worthier be the wounded life?
If life be good, the best life is the glad.
Look how all young things dance for life's delight.
The nearer to the source is life more bright.”
38
“Aye,” softly said the Mother-maid, “but see
What pangs have brought their joyousness to birth!
What cares, what toiling lives uphold their glee!
Youth is a day-lived flower upon the earth,
And joy a blossom beautiful but brief;
Labour the root is, sorrow the green leaf.”
What pangs have brought their joyousness to birth!
What cares, what toiling lives uphold their glee!
Youth is a day-lived flower upon the earth,
And joy a blossom beautiful but brief;
Labour the root is, sorrow the green leaf.”
“Nature hath natural sorrow,” Venus said,
“And many are the griefs of motherhood;
Yet ask of her the happiest newly-wed:
Doth she not daily on a new hope brood?
The dream of bearing new young happy things
Makes her more glad than all that wifehood brings.
“And many are the griefs of motherhood;
Yet ask of her the happiest newly-wed:
Doth she not daily on a new hope brood?
The dream of bearing new young happy things
Makes her more glad than all that wifehood brings.
“The happiness that from her womb shall grow,
The promise of child-creatures made for glee,
Enlightens all her heaven with such a glow
As spreads before the dawn. How else should she,
But for upholding gladness, bear her pain?
Her pangs, forsooth, and not her bliss, are gain!
The promise of child-creatures made for glee,
Enlightens all her heaven with such a glow
As spreads before the dawn. How else should she,
But for upholding gladness, bear her pain?
Her pangs, forsooth, and not her bliss, are gain!
39
“Say that the day is but eclipse of night,
And stars unlighted the true lamps of space;
That were more reasonable, than delight
An outlaw, and this world the rightful place
Of griefs and wants and legioned miseries;
A house of sweetmeats builded for the flies.”
And stars unlighted the true lamps of space;
That were more reasonable, than delight
An outlaw, and this world the rightful place
Of griefs and wants and legioned miseries;
A house of sweetmeats builded for the flies.”
“Nay,” Mary said, “that mother should she bear
No straight-limbed manling, but a puny creature,
Deformed, dull-witted, giveth she less care
Than if perfection lay in every feature?
Not this she dreamed of; but a happiness
Higher than joy puts out her first distress.
No straight-limbed manling, but a puny creature,
Deformed, dull-witted, giveth she less care
Than if perfection lay in every feature?
Not this she dreamed of; but a happiness
Higher than joy puts out her first distress.
“How dear she loves the child! Yet never he
Shall be a grace, a joy, a benediction.
The happy heed him not; no childish glee
Illumines his long days of slow affliction.
Her love more vigour gaineth by vexation;
This is the crown, for her, of all creation.”
Shall be a grace, a joy, a benediction.
The happy heed him not; no childish glee
Illumines his long days of slow affliction.
Her love more vigour gaineth by vexation;
This is the crown, for her, of all creation.”
40
“For her! for her!” rang out the flute-like scorn.
“But who is she, that for her own self-heal
Hurts the good world with her ungainly-born?
Who's the wise gardener, he who spares the steel,
And lets the wild shoot draw the rose's life,
Or he who wields the hoe and pruning-knife?
“But who is she, that for her own self-heal
Hurts the good world with her ungainly-born?
Who's the wise gardener, he who spares the steel,
And lets the wild shoot draw the rose's life,
Or he who wields the hoe and pruning-knife?
“Each life unlovely keepeth from his own
The lawful heir, the goodly half-god man.
But grimly the usurper holds the throne,
And boldly calls Religion with her ban
Nature to bind and Man to terrify
With the ten thunder-claps of Sinai.
The lawful heir, the goodly half-god man.
But grimly the usurper holds the throne,
And boldly calls Religion with her ban
Nature to bind and Man to terrify
With the ten thunder-claps of Sinai.
“Look on this man, ugly, deformed and old,
Rich from his birth, and nursed to some poor style
Of Manhood, coaxed to pleasure, and cajoled
To appetite. For him the fairest smile,
The strongest labour, and the bravest fight,
Who is incapable of all delight.
Rich from his birth, and nursed to some poor style
Of Manhood, coaxed to pleasure, and cajoled
To appetite. For him the fairest smile,
The strongest labour, and the bravest fight,
Who is incapable of all delight.
41
“How many joyous lives hath he displaced
In the compacted press of living things!
Abortive beauties that had lived and graced
The laughing earth with woven rainbow-rings
Of effluent lustre and joy-breeding joy!
What worlds of love may one foul life destroy!”
In the compacted press of living things!
Abortive beauties that had lived and graced
The laughing earth with woven rainbow-rings
Of effluent lustre and joy-breeding joy!
What worlds of love may one foul life destroy!”
“What,” cried the Mother, “hath the Man no right
To clutch at life, and live as other lives?
Life is a thing so feeble and so slight,
Saved from the void; a sea-waif that survives
A million deaths, and clings where it be able,
To spar, or raft, or rocks inhospitable.
To clutch at life, and live as other lives?
Life is a thing so feeble and so slight,
Saved from the void; a sea-waif that survives
A million deaths, and clings where it be able,
To spar, or raft, or rocks inhospitable.
“This life extinguished, howso base it be,
Who knoweth surely that a new shall rise?
Aye, from the basest often may we see
The best in due time born. What we despise
Is one link in eternity's vast chain;
Who knows what hopes its breaking may make vain?
Who knoweth surely that a new shall rise?
Aye, from the basest often may we see
The best in due time born. What we despise
Is one link in eternity's vast chain;
Who knows what hopes its breaking may make vain?
42
“Let man serve man in kindly brotherhood,
Reaching wide hands of love to all his kind,
The foul, the beautiful, the bad, the good,
What is regarding, to what might be blind.
Not his to sort or sift, to judge or weigh;
He too is in the balance where are they.”
Reaching wide hands of love to all his kind,
The foul, the beautiful, the bad, the good,
What is regarding, to what might be blind.
Not his to sort or sift, to judge or weigh;
He too is in the balance where are they.”
“How then?” as temperately the Queen returned;
“Why has he judgment, if he may not use it?
Or knowledge, if it need to be unlearned?
Or thirst for beauty, if he may not choose it?
Or aspirations for an age ideal,
If for the right he may not change the real?
“Why has he judgment, if he may not use it?
Or knowledge, if it need to be unlearned?
Or thirst for beauty, if he may not choose it?
Or aspirations for an age ideal,
If for the right he may not change the real?
“Look you, ye priests, how loudly ye pretend
This life is nothing and this world is vain!
Why, your own lips condemn you, when ye spend
Such labour to preserve these lives of pain,
Keeping them from their heritage of bliss.
What reason or what charity is this?
This life is nothing and this world is vain!
Why, your own lips condemn you, when ye spend
Such labour to preserve these lives of pain,
Keeping them from their heritage of bliss.
What reason or what charity is this?
43
“How doth Man weary his dull brains to guess
Why in a good world evil so prevails.
Here is Doubt's stronghold, here the hardest stress
Of Love and Hope; and throned Religion quails,
Sick in her heart, lest haply in the end
Her good God cannot His own name defend.
Why in a good world evil so prevails.
Here is Doubt's stronghold, here the hardest stress
Of Love and Hope; and throned Religion quails,
Sick in her heart, lest haply in the end
Her good God cannot His own name defend.
“And lo, it is the very hand of Man
That sows the dreadful harvest. Let him heed
Wisdom, and work obedient to the plan
Whereby creation moves. 'Tis his to breed
Reasonably, extinguish the weak strain,
Nourish the strong, and give sweet death to pain.
That sows the dreadful harvest. Let him heed
Wisdom, and work obedient to the plan
Whereby creation moves. 'Tis his to breed
Reasonably, extinguish the weak strain,
Nourish the strong, and give sweet death to pain.
“Why count ye only your now living kind
Your neighbours, and the actual generation,
Leaving your children's children out of mind,
As if in one horizon lay creation?
Part of your owing is to them that live,
Part to who shall be; weigh the due, and give!
Your neighbours, and the actual generation,
Leaving your children's children out of mind,
As if in one horizon lay creation?
Part of your owing is to them that live,
Part to who shall be; weigh the due, and give!
44
“Let Nature, tenderer than your charity,
Slay whom she will, and whom she will retain.
The wounded bird, the torn-winged butterfly,
The stunted flower, the starved unkindly grain,
These perish that fair lives be not displaced;
Man only keeps the broken and the waste.
Slay whom she will, and whom she will retain.
The wounded bird, the torn-winged butterfly,
The stunted flower, the starved unkindly grain,
These perish that fair lives be not displaced;
Man only keeps the broken and the waste.
“Such might the world be now as ye foretell
Hereafter: health and gladness everywhere,
And goodness that with gladness loves to dwell.
A nobler Adam and an Eve more fair
Should walk a Paradise regained, nor find
One form less glorious in all mankind.
Hereafter: health and gladness everywhere,
And goodness that with gladness loves to dwell.
A nobler Adam and an Eve more fair
Should walk a Paradise regained, nor find
One form less glorious in all mankind.
“Let reason-gifted Man use reason right
To speed the coming of that crowning kind,
Creature of beauty, heir of life's delight,
And self-fulfilment of the Eternal Mind,
The folded flower from age to age unfurled
To the full blossom of a perfect world.”
To speed the coming of that crowning kind,
Creature of beauty, heir of life's delight,
And self-fulfilment of the Eternal Mind,
The folded flower from age to age unfurled
To the full blossom of a perfect world.”
45
“Nay who can judge perfection,” said the other,
“Himself imperfect? This is not of Man.
The stronger dying for the weaker brother,
Unreasonably righteous, helps the plan
He understands not, more than did he use
His unborn sons for selfishness' excuse.
“Himself imperfect? This is not of Man.
The stronger dying for the weaker brother,
Unreasonably righteous, helps the plan
He understands not, more than did he use
His unborn sons for selfishness' excuse.
“See how the dark and cruel world doth now
Love darkness less and more leave cruelty,
As the light spreads and all the nations bow
To the new Altar! Pity and Piety,
Like the soft winds of summer, change the face
Of earth, and out of weakness groweth grace.
Love darkness less and more leave cruelty,
As the light spreads and all the nations bow
To the new Altar! Pity and Piety,
Like the soft winds of summer, change the face
Of earth, and out of weakness groweth grace.
“See in their churches what a comeliness!
See in their cities laws how just and good!
See in their lives how sweet a gentleness!
See in their deaths how high a hardihood!
See how wrath dies, and foes are reconciled
Kneeling before the Mother and the Child!”
See in their cities laws how just and good!
See in their lives how sweet a gentleness!
See in their deaths how high a hardihood!
See how wrath dies, and foes are reconciled
Kneeling before the Mother and the Child!”
46
“Aye!” Venus answered, “for To-day is thine;
The wounded world had need of healing hands.
Yet am I sure the Morrow shall be mine,
When thy soft law hath leavened all the lands.
My kingdom is of joy, and thine of grief;
And gladness is eternal, sorrow brief.
The wounded world had need of healing hands.
Yet am I sure the Morrow shall be mine,
When thy soft law hath leavened all the lands.
My kingdom is of joy, and thine of grief;
And gladness is eternal, sorrow brief.
“And pity is but sadness helping sorrow;
Sorrow and sadness both shall flee away.
What place for pity in the all-bright morrow,
More than for lamplight in the risen day?
Beauty and love of beauty shall remain,
And Aphrodite hold men's hearts again.”
Sorrow and sadness both shall flee away.
What place for pity in the all-bright morrow,
More than for lamplight in the risen day?
Beauty and love of beauty shall remain,
And Aphrodite hold men's hearts again.”
What answer had the Mother-maid returned
The brethren knew not, for by this the star
That heralds morning in the heaven burned,
And the first warbler woke. A sudden jar
Of earthquake shook the phantom edifice,
And all that pageant faded in a trice.
The brethren knew not, for by this the star
That heralds morning in the heaven burned,
And the first warbler woke. A sudden jar
Of earthquake shook the phantom edifice,
And all that pageant faded in a trice.
| Preludes and Romances | |