University of Virginia Library

THE WANDERER

Wanderer
God's grace be thine, young woman
And his, the boy who sucks
That breast of thine.
Here let me on the craggy scar,
In shade of the great elm,
My knapsack fling from me
And rest me by thy side.

Woman
What business urges thee
Now in the heat of day
Along this dusty path?
Bringest thou some city merchandise
Into the country round?
Thou smilest, stranger,
At this my question.

Wanderer
No city merchandise I bring,
Cool now the evening grows,
Show me the rills
Whence thou dost drink,
My good young woman.

Woman
Here, up the rocky path,
Go onward. Through the shrubs
The path runs by the cot
Wherein I dwell,
On to the rills
From whence I drink.

Wanderer
Traces of ordering human hands
Betwixt the underwood.
These stones thou hast not so disposed,
Nature—thou rich dispensatress.

Woman
Yet further up.

Wanderer
With moss o'erlaid, an architrave!
I recognize thee, plastic spirit,
Thou hast impressed thy seal upon the stone.

Woman
Further yet, stranger.

Wanderer
Lo, an inscription whereupon I tread,
But all illegible,
Worn out by wayfarers are ye,
Which should show forth your Master's piety,
Unto a thousand children's children.

Woman
In wonder, stranger, dost thou gaze
Upon these stones?
Up yonder round my cot
Are many such.

Wanderer
Up yonder?

Woman
Leftwards directly
On through the underwood,
Here!

Wanderer
Ye Muses! and ye Graces!

Woman
That is my cottage.

Wanderer
The fragments of a temple!

Woman
Here onwards on one side
The rivulet flows
From whence I drink.

Wanderer
Glowing, then hoverest
Above thy sepulchre,
Genius! Over thee
Is tumbled in a heap
Thy masterpiece,
O thou undying one!

Woman
Wait till I bring the vessel
That thou mayst drink.

Wanderer
Ivy hath clad around
Thy slender form divine.
How do ye upward strive
From out the wreck,
Twin columns!
And thou, the solitary sister there,
How do ye,
With sombre moss upon your sacred heads,
Gaze in majestic mourning down
Upon these scattered fragments
There at your feet,
Your kith and kin!
Where lie the shadows of the bramble bush,
Concealed by wrack and earth,
And the long grass wavers above.
Nature dost then so hold in price
Thy masterpiece's masterpiece?
Dost thou, regardless, shatter thus
Thy sanctuary?
Dost sow the thistles therein?

Woman
How the boy sleeps!
Wouldst thou within the cottage rest,
Stranger? Wouldst here
Rather than 'neath the open heavens bide?
Now it is cool. Here, take the boy.
Let me go draw the water.
Sleep, darling, sleep!

Wanderer
Sweet is thy rest.
How, bathed in heavenly healthiness,
Restful he breathes!
Thou, born above the relics
Of a most sacred past,
Upon thee may its spirit rest.
He whom it environeth
Will in the consciousness of power divine
Each day enjoy.
Seedling so rich expand,
The shining spring's
Resplendent ornament,
In presence of thy fellows shine,
And when the flower-sheathe fades and falls
May from thy bosom rise
The abounding fruit,
And ripening, front the sun.

Woman
God bless him—and ever still he sleeps.
Nought have I with this water clear
Except a piece of bread to offer thee.

Wanderer
I give thee thanks.
How gloriously all blooms around
And groweth green!

Woman
My husband soon
Home from the fields
Returns. Stay, stay, O man,
And eat with us thy evening bread.

Wanderer
Here do ye dwell?

Woman
There, between yonder walls,
The cot. My father builded it
Of brick, and of the wreckage stones.
Here do we dwell.
He gave me to a husbandman,
And in our arms he died—
Sweetheart—and hast thou slept?
How bright he is—and wants to play.
My rogue!

Wanderer
O Nature! everlastingly conceiving.
Each one thou bearest for the joy of life,
All of thy babes thou hast endowed
Lovingly with a heritage—a Name.
High on the cornice doth the swallow build,
Of what an ornament she hides
All unaware.
The caterpillar round the golden bough
Spins her a winter quarters for her young.
Thus dost thou patch in 'twixt the august
Fragments of bygone time
For needs of thine—for thy own needs
A hut. O men—
Rejoicing over graves.
Farewell, thou happy wife.

Woman
Thou wilt not stay?

Wanderer
God keep you safe
And bless your boy.

Woman
A happy wayfaring!

Wanderer
Where doth the pathway lead me
Over the mountain there?

Woman
To Cuma.

Wanderer
How far is it hence?

Woman
'Tis three good miles.

Wanderer
Farewell!
O Nature! guide my way,
The stranger's travel-track
Which over graves
Of sacred times foregone
I still pursue.
Me to some covert guide,
Sheltered against the north,
And where from noontide's glare
A poplar grove protects.
And when at eve I turn
Home to the hut,
Made golden with the sun's last beam,
Grant that such wife may welcome me,
The boy upon her arm.