University of Virginia Library


1

VLYSSES AND CALYPSO

Night held her middle course,
The Bear had turned the Pole:
The Pleiads to their source
Beneath the Ocean stole.
There swept along the wave
Fair sound and odorous light,
From where in secret cave
Calypso watched the night.
And still with hands and feet
A golden thread she wove,
While in sad strain and sweet
She sang her absent love.

2

“Vlysses, thou art gone,
Thou sailest on the sea:
Colder thy heart than stone,
Heavy is mine in me.
“Thou camest through the gate
Of the wide open main,
Whose valves of mist so late
Have closed thee hence again.
“That night the great winds blew,
Though high the sky and bare:
The smitten billows flew
Like monsters half in air.
“I saw beneath the moon
The breaking waters shock:
The sheeted white lay strewn
About the battling rock.

3

“But whiter than the spray
The cloudless moon shone o'er
A naked man there lay
Vpon the ghostly shore.
“Senseless he lay for dead:
The heavy swinging wave
Flew out beyond his head,
And clothed him with his grave.
“I took him from the brine,
I bore him to my cell:
Fed him with bread and wine,
And wreathed my gentlest spell.
“I called the dreams from heaven
To hover round his bed;
Bade each appointed sweven
Nurture and solace shed.

4

“I sang within his sight,
Sitting within the grot:
Sang from the far far hight,
Where he beheld me not.
“I promised him to shew
The sights the gods hold dear:
That all of weal and woe
To him might changed appear:
“That more than gold to him
The gleam of gold might be:
Or grass, that wild winds skim,
Than corn-choked granary:
“That joy's quick smile might mock
Joy's joy: that strength might rob
Pain of her scaith, and rock
Heart with exultant throb:

5

“That so, the world around,
Might death seem fair and gay:
Jocund the tiger's bound,
Merry his bleeding prey.
“Echo and Iris both
From cloud and cavern came,
The wandering air to clothe
With laughter and quick flame.
“Echo made earth to ring
With voices of delight;
And Iris spread her wing
Sevenfold of colours bright.
“Echo laughed through the land,
Iris came o'er the sea;
Her grey-winged dove in hand
Amid the clouds smiled she.

6

“I sang with tingling strings,
And set within his range,
How bright the life of things
Lifted o'er mortal change.
“How rich the taste of bliss
The reckless gods enjoy,
Because the cup they kiss,
Not drain it to annoy.
“How he with me might gain,
Through high resolved power
Loosing the mortal chain
Scaithless, the airbuilt tower.
“Alas! the man I loved,
The man I sang so fair,
Along the shore still moved
With downcast eyes of care.

7

“Mortals with mortals mate:
This law, since Zeus began
From gentler Saturn's date,
Divides the gods from man.
“Across the sea he sent
A long and wistful gaze:
And sighs of discontent
His stormy breast would raise.
“Ah, then I changed my song:
Woe's me! to weave delay
I did the gods this wrong
Their secret to betray.
“I told that in the hight
The gods, no more than man
On earth, do hold delight
In caption, neither can:

8

“That in the doublest knot
Of cloud, or fold of foam,
Or light that flies the grot,
Some nymph's extremest home,
“What glinted seems to be
Fairest to mortal eyes,
E'en of the eyes that see
Partakes the maladies:
“That Zeus himself makes quest
For ever, winning nought;
And, if there be a best,
'Tis still for ever sought;
“That things the most unknown,
In silence as in sound:
That things the rarest shewn,
O'erpassing mortal bound:

9

“Like things to man that fall,
And his full knowledge own;
They have one lot in all,
But happiness is none:
That gods but gaze and guess,
Marvelling that they create;
Not theirs, beneath fate's stress,
To enjoy, but contemplate:
“That what gods hide is pain,
Though men believe it bliss.—
This said I: and in vain,
Nor made my sorrow his.
“Vlysses, thou art gone:
Thou sailest on the sea:
Colder thy heart than stone,
As heavy mine in me.

10

“A stone? That is thy heart:
That stone may we divide:
The heaviness my part;
The coldness, that I chide.
“But if with heaviness
Coldness doth make a stone,
This without that is less.—
Stone-heart, thou heart hast none!
“For, as the time went on,
He wept with many a tear,
Still grieving to be gone:
I could not hold him here.
“My wood, that waved so fair,
To make his raft I felled:
For sails I did not spare
My woven stuffs to yield.

11

“And, though so late he sighed,
Now, as he shaped his raft,
He smiled, all eager-eyed,
And talked of sailor craft.
“His arms were rough with scars,
With toil his sinews wight;
He spake of works and wars,
As I spake of delight.
“He spake of mortal love
Made more by mortal care,
When each with other strove
The heavier load to bear:
“Of children known more dear
By helpless infancy:
Of virtue proved to cheer,
When gods send misery.

12

“Vlysses, thou art gone,
Thou sailest on the sea:
I sought thee for mine own,
But thou hast conquered me.
“For now I feel within
Both human thought and care:
Now cold is grown, and thin
And wonderless the air.
“And now I long to fix
In some poor cot my rest:
With mortal care to mix,
And nurse perturbed breast:
“And gradually to grow
Older, more weak and blind,
Till Death should bid me go
To join my buried kind.

13

“Now all the gods above
Behold me with disdain,
Where in their clouds they move
Still pitiless of pain.
“For when my hand was lent
To aid thy building craft,
From out the clouds they bent,
And at my labour laughed.
“And when from off the shore
Thy finished skiff was cast,
Their laughter rose the more
Along the glittering vast.
“Over the sea went'st thou,
Never regarding me:
Ah, would that I were now
But thy Penelope.”

14

MERCVRY TO PROMETHEVS

Like a star I fly,
Till the storm I near
Of the agony
Which from far I hear.
Where the eagle screams
On the frozen air,
Where like ghostly dreams
Stand the mountains bare:
Their tempestuous throng
Darkly set to drive,
With the northwinds strong
Where the stormclouds strive,

15

While they closer fold
That gigantic form,
Bathed in rain of cold,
Sunk in shock of storm.
Titan, look on me:
Like a star I fly:
Thou too mightest be
Such a god as I.

16

THE MYSTERY OF THE BODY

Smiling with a pliant grace
Rose on me a learned face:
Smiled the soul when smiled the eyes?—
Vp when ran the traceries
Of the forehead arching high,
Did the inner faculty
Tempering the hidden nerve
Mould the momentary curve,
Waking motions strange between
Spirit fine and fleshly screen?

17

May I then a likeness find
In the features of the mind
And the antic of the flesh?
Wherefore should the wrinkled mesh
Of the forehead arching high
Image the soul's pleasantry?

18

LIFE AND DEATH

Life—
I am the daughter of Time,
And twin to my brother Death:
Where I am, there is he.
Space to the star, to the earth her clime,
I make by my breath:
To the heart its beat.
The world's circumference
I take for my seat:
Nor less man's pageantry,
His ring of sense.

19

Round the one on guard
The stars keep burning ward:
The other is made sure
By phantoms I conjure.
Vermillion, saffron, white,
Weave ever my delight,
Lest Death should disenchant
Those whom I fain would haunt.

Death—
I am the brother of Life:
Of old she named me Strife.
In sorrow and in tears
I ruin what she rears.
She is a sorceress
Of might, of skill not less:
Who by her magic power

20

Gathers from hour to hour
Grains from the infinite:
And in them skills to write
The knowledge that they are.
Then pain and pleasure war
Within them, till I come
And redissolve her sum.
Forth from her painted hall
Her slaves I disenthrall:
But when I come to break
The subtle bond, they shriek.


21

ODE:

THE SPIRIT WOOED

Art thou gone so far,
Beyond the poplar tops, beyond the sunset-bar,
Beyond the purple cloud that swells on high
In the tender fields of sky?
Leanest thou thy head
On sunset's golden breadth? is thy wide hair spread
To his solemn kisses? Yet grow thou not pale
As he pales and dies: nor more my eyes avail
To search his cloud-drawn bed.
O come thou again!

22

Be seen on the falling slope: let thy footsteps pass
Where the river cuts with his blue scythe the grass:
Be heard in the voice that across the river comes
From the distant wood, even when the stilly rain
Is made to cease by light winds: come again,
As out of yon grey glooms,
When the cloud grows luminous and shiftily riven,
Forth comes the moon, the sweet surprise of heaven:
And her footfall light
Drops on the multiplied wave: her face is seen
In evening's pallor green:
And she waxes bright
With the death of the tinted air: yea, brighter grows
In sunset's gradual close.
To earth from heaven comes she,
So come thou to me.
Oh, lay thou thy head
On sunset's breadth of gold, thy hair bespread

23

In his solemn kisses: but grow thou not pale
As he pales and dies, lest eye no more avail
To search thy cloud-drawn bed.
Can the weeping eye
Always feel light through mists that never dry?
Can empty arms alone for ever fill
Enough the breast? Can echo answer still,
When the voice has ceased to cry?

24

NATVRE AND MAN

Blve in the mists all day
The hills slept far away,
Skiddaw, Blencathra, all:
But now that eve gins fall,
They all seem drawing near
In giant shapes of fear:
While o'er the winding walks
The mighty darkness stalks,
Quenching the rich gorse-gold
On purple-deepened wold,
The columned pines their plumes
More blackly wave: then comes
The night, the rising wind.

25

Oh Nature, art thou kind
From fair to fair to range
In never ceasing change
Beyond our power to feel?
For still dost thou unseal
Thy glories numberless
In changeful recklessness,
But givest us no power
To take the varied hour.
O'erweighed by all, we lose
Thy glories, or confuse.
E'en now this changeful sight
Of slow-advancing night,
The sleeping fields, the sweep
Of redness on the steep,
And o'er the hills and meads
The darkness which succeeds,
E'en now this change is lost,
Or by dull urgents crossed.

26

So, on the smooth sea-sand
Spread by the ebb's last hand,
And warmed by sunset's fire,
Walking to me desire
Has come to bear away
Each precious grain that lay,
Ere the cold wave again
Should mix and drown the plain:
So have I felt desire
Insatiably expire.
To mock us thus with change,
From fair to fair to range,
Dissolving thy most fair
Into a change as rare,
Leaving our hearts behind,
Oh, Nature, art thou kind?
Thou walkest by our side,
Looking with eyes full wide

27

With laughter at our woe,
Because we would keep so
What is most fair to us.—
That bud how tremulous,
Which hangeth on the bough!
Ah, wouldst thou but allow
That it should hang there still!
Not so; with wanton will
Thou clappest to thy hands,
And the burst bud expands
Into a flower as sweet.
With laughter thou dost greet
The human sigh and groan
That mourns the thing that's gone.
Thou laughest, for thy store
Holds beauty evermore:
Nor loss to thee the pain
Of our heart-dizzied brain.
Then thou thyself dost tire

28

Of the unfilled desire
With which we thee pursue:
Therefore, with sudden view
Thou shewest us a glass
To see ourselves—Alas,
Grey we are grown, and old:
Our fancied heat is cold,
Our shaking limbs are dry:
We see ourselves, and die.

29

THE STORM DEMON

The rock was black, the cloud was white:
The black rock in a gorge was set.
Earth rose, heaven stooped: upon that hight
The thunder with the torrent met.
The vast half-weeping cloud came down,
Storm-laden: and a demon form,
Of gathered wrath, stood with a frown
Vpon that pedestal of storm.
He stood, his rolling mantle spread,
His hat of darkness deeply set:
His locks heaved cloudlike round his head;
The torrent lashed his feet of jet.

30

Forth from his eyes the lightning leapt,
His voice spake with the thunder's tone:
Earth's waters in swift flashes swept,
Her caverns answered with a groan.

31

A COVNTRY PLACE REVISITED

My foot returns: the same wild tree
Waves in the hedgerow over me.
I knew not then, I know not now
The leaves that hang upon her bough.
But I recal her wind-vexed form
Tossed in a sort of mimic storm,
And threatening all those leaves to cast
If wilder grew the sportive blast.
And how the bold and merry wind
Grew silent suddenly, I mind:
The wind, that summer's sweets had made
More bold to dare the silvan maid.
The summer breeze still plays as free,
And shakes the ringlets of the tree:

32

But I, who watched them then as now,
Turn I to them as calm a brow;
Or can I smile to see their play
As blithe as on the former day?
Thought, that comes first as fantasy,
Sadly returns as memory.
She looks with question from the eyes
Whence first she laughed with glad surprise:
And thence descending to the heart
Ends with a sigh her former part;
Filling the sketch that first she drew
With graver touch than then she knew.

33

THE WILD ROSE

Go forth, go forth, when leafy June
Has pinned on every hedgerow briar
The frail wild rose, that heaves in tune
With each soft breath that they respire
Whose bosoms wear the brave attire.
And if the meek grass companies,
That shrink to cross man's beaten ways,
Smile at the shew with loving eyes,
And seem to prank their pride, to praise
The fairest comers of their days:
And if the nobler forms that lead
High nature to the changeful skies,
The stately trees, seem to give heed:
Do thou too of this joy make prize,
To store with thy good memories.

34

BOTH LESS AND MORE

I rode my horse to the hostel gate,
And the landlord fed it with corn and hay:
His eyes were blear, he limped in his gait,
His lip hung down, his hair was grey.
I entered in the wayside inn;
And the landlady met me without a smile;
Her dreary dress was old and thin,
Her face was full of piteous guile.
There they had been for threescore years:
There was none to tell them they were great:
Not one to tell of our hopes and fears;
And not far off was the churchyard gate.

35

THE HAND OF MAN

In vivid greens the budded year
Spread fresh and fair and bold and gay:
Fair waved the grasses far and near,
Fair waved the bough with tasselled spray.
The mountains rose on either hand,
A large and free as piled cloud:
Down flowed the undulating land,
Down flowed the watercourses loud.
But sadness bound my eyes alway,
And nothing gave my heart delight,
Vntil I saw a wall of clay,
O'er which some flowering grass grew bright.

36

'Twas man's bold hand had built the wall,
And trained the grass to level hight,
With every wind to rise and fall:
At this my heart felt some delight.

37

VAIN AMBITION

A thovsand keen eyes peer
From out Earth's atmosphere,
Following the borrowed beam,
Which restlessly she flings
Midst the sun-circling rings,
The planetary scheme.
She wonders at the light
Cast through the depths of night,
Where Aldeboran burns:
Which travels myriad years,
Passing unnumbered spheres,
To reach her, where she turns.

38

But what knows he of her,
He, of her sun the peer,
In his tremendous might:
Whether her rays may gain
The circuit of his reign,
Or midway cease in night?
She round about her sun
From space to space doth run:
He, as he was erewhile,
Sits on his fixed throne,
Shines where he ever shone,
As if she moved no mile.
So far is he in space,
That her mile-million race
As emmet's inch is run:
Nor may that little range
Avail his place to change:
He looks upon the sun.

39

Moon, thou hast power to burn
Through mists, and clouds to turn
To silver-threaded haze:
The cedar holds thee now
In his cavernous bough,
Thee, and thy white-armed fays.
Enough it is for thee
Earth's comforter to be,
To make a holy place,
Where naught is seen by day
But ravin and decay,
Men, and what men deface.

40

VNREST

Day is again begun
By the unresting sun:
Morning o'er all the lands
Rises with clasped hands:
And in the increasing light
Sickens the Moon of night:
For darkness leaves her there
To linger pale and bare,
Till fullest light, more kind,
From view her form shall wind.
But in this rising morn
Muse not on things forlorn,

41

Knowing thyself the thrall
Of life beyond them all.
Another day shall pass
Like yesterday that was;
Another night shall come,
Like the last perished gloom:
And thou shalt never rest,
Nor yet attain thy quest:
But, like thy very earth,
Betwixt dark death, dark birth,
Speed, and not know thy speed,
While days and nights recede:
Thy seeming rest to be
Gyres in immensity;
The paces of thy strength
Small measures of fate's length:
Thy waste or use of powers
Predestined to their hours:
And thou thyself?—The sob

42

Of pallid lips, the throb
Of every heart this day,
By which life ebbs away,
And yet by which life lives,—
Ah, this thy emblem gives.

43

MAN'S COMING

The world was gay and blithe:
Again the world was sad:
Time moved his ceaseless scythe,
Time, neither sad nor glad.
Then dragon dragon tore;
Then swept their sheeted breath:
A spasm was at the core,
From the rent flesh rose Death.

44

No more than this there was—
Pain, rage, and Death through pain:
No more than this had cause
To be in land or main.
'Twas thus before man came:
He came, and with him guilt:
He bent a brow of shame
On blood that had been spilt.
He cast an eye of care
On pain, on rage through pain:
And these were made aware
How awful was their reign.
And Death, that was at most
Carcase and skeleton,
Became a shadowy host
After the flesh and bone.

45

“WINTER WILL FOLLOW”

The heaving roses of the hedge are stirred
By the sweet breath of summer, & the bird
Makes from within his jocund voice be heard.
The winds that kiss the roses sweep the sea
Of uncut grass, whose billows rolling free
Half drown the hedges which part lea from lea.
But soon shall look the wondering roses down
Vpon an empty field cut close and brown,
That lifts no more its hight against their own.

46

And in a little while those roses bright,
Leaf after leaf, shall flutter from their hight,
And on the reaped field lie pink and white.
And yet again the bird that sings so high
Shall ask the snow for alms with piteous cry,
Take fright in his bewildering bower, and die.

47

ODE ON ADVANCING AGE

Thov goest more and more
To the silent things: thy hair is hoar,
Emptier thy weary face: like to the shore
Far-ruined, and the desolate billow white,
That recedes and leaves it waif-wrinkled, gap-rocked, weak.
The shore and the billow white
Groan, they cry and rest not: they would speak,
And call the eternal Night
To cease them for ever, bidding new things issue
From her cold tissue:

48

Night, that is ever young, nor knows decay,
Though older by eternity than they.
Go down upon the shore.
The breakers dash, the smitten spray drops to the roar;
The spit upsprings, and drops again,
Where'er the white waves clash in the main.
Their sound is but one: 'tis the cry
That has risen from of old to the sky,
'Tis their silence!
Go now from the shore
Far-ruined: the grey shingly floor
To the crashing step answers; the doteril cries,
And on dipping wing flies:
'Tis their silence!
And thou, oh thou
To that wild silence sinkest now.
No more remains to thee than the cry of silence, the cry
Of the waves, of the shore, of the bird to the sky.

49

Thy bald eyes neath as bald a brow
Ask but what Nature gives
To the inarticulate cries
Of the waves, of the shore, of the bird.
Earth in earth thou art being interred:
No longer in thee lives
The lordly essence which was unlike all,
That was thy flower of soul, the imperial
Glory that separated thee
From all others that might be.
Thy dog hath died before.
Didst thou not mark him? did he not neglect
What roused his rapture once, but still loved thee?
Till, weaker grown, was he not fain reject
Thy pitying hand, thy meat and drink,
For all thou couldst implore?
Then, at the last, how mournfully
Did not his eyelids sink

50

With wearied sighs?
He sought at last that never-moving night
Which is the same in darkness as in light,
The closing of the eyes.
So, Age, thou dealest us
To the elements: but no! Resume thy pride,
O man, that musest thus.
Be to the end what thou hast been before:
The ancient joy shall wrap thee still—the tide
Return upon the shore.

51

TO FANCY

I am here for thee,
Art thou there for me?
Or, traitress to my watchful heart,
Dost thou from rock and wave depart,
And from the desolate sea?
I am here for thee,
Art thou there for me?
Or, Fancy, with thy wondrous smile
Wilt thou no more my eyes beguile
Betwixt the clouds and sea?

52

I am here for thee:
Art thou there for me?
Spirit of brightness, shy and sweet!
My eyes thy glimmering robe would meet
Above the glimmering sea.
My little skill,
My passionate will
Are here: where art thou? Spirit, bow
From darkening cloud thy heavenly brow,
Ere sinks the ebbing sea.

53

SONG

[In the heart of the thorn is the thrush]

In the heart of the thorn is the thrush,
On its breast is the flower of the May:
On its knees is the head of the rush,
At its feet are the buttercups gay.

54

SONG

[If thou wast still, O stream]

If thou wast still, O stream,
Thou would'st be frozen now:
And 'neath an icy shield
Thy current warm would flow.
But wild thou art and rough;
And so the bitter breeze,
That chafes thy shuddering waves,
May never bid thee freeze.

55

SONG

[Why fadest thou in death]

Why fadest thou in death,
Oh yellow waning tree?
Gentle is autumn's breath,
And green the oak by thee.
But with each wind that sighs
The leaves from thee take wing;
And bare thy branches rise
Above their drifted ring.

56

SONG

[Throvgh the clearness of heaven to the north]

Throvgh the clearness of heaven to the north
The sun casts his ceaseless rays:
And all day the clouds come forth
To float in the azure blaze.
They come o'er the long, long hill,
That is yellow with corn to see,
Whose head wears the merry windmill,
Whose foot turns the watermill free.

57

SONG

[Oh, what shall lift the night]

Oh , what shall lift the night,
The lightning or the moon?
There is no other light,
The day is gone too soon.
The lightning with his flash
An instant and no more,
Is as an angel's lash
Smiting the dusk-loved shore.
The moon with trembling light
From her pale shell of sleep
Shall kindlier break the night
Of yon thick clouds that weep.

58

SONG

[Sky, that rollest ever]

Sky , that rollest ever,
It is given to thee
To roll above the river
Rolling to the sea.
Truer is thy mirror
In the lake or sea;
But thou lovest error
More than constancy.
And the river running
Fast into the sea,
His wild hurry shunning
All thy love and thee;

59

Not a moment staying
To return thy smiles,
Sees thee still displaying
All thy sunny wiles:
Till thou fallest weeping:
Then more furiously
All his wild waves leaping
Rush into the sea.
FINIS