Poems; original and translated by Charles Rann Kennedy ... and Two Poems by the Rev. Rann Kennedy. New Edition. By Charles Rann Kennedy |
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THE POET'S DREAM. |
 | Poems; original and translated |  |
1
THE POET'S DREAM.
I.
Of Poesy why grudge the praise?
Tis all a dream, the worldling says.
If dream it be, 'tis not of earth,
But in a higher sphere had birth.
Tis all a dream, the worldling says.
If dream it be, 'tis not of earth,
But in a higher sphere had birth.
It is no spectre of the night,
That fades at blush of morning-light;
No fantasy, that at the breath
Of waking Reason vanisheth.
That fades at blush of morning-light;
No fantasy, that at the breath
Of waking Reason vanisheth.
It is a vision bright and clear,
Seen now and alway, far and near,
And ever to the earnest view
Unfolding revelations new.
Seen now and alway, far and near,
And ever to the earnest view
Unfolding revelations new.
Tis Truth array'd in Beauty's form,
And with her richest colours warm,
Imprest with Nature's mystic seal,
And shown to man for human weal.
And with her richest colours warm,
Imprest with Nature's mystic seal,
And shown to man for human weal.
2
II.
Alas for them, the would-be wise,
Who all they cannot feel despise,
To whom a universe is nought
Beyond their narrow range of thought.
Who all they cannot feel despise,
To whom a universe is nought
Beyond their narrow range of thought.
The mole constructs his earthen cell,
And deems it a vast citadel,
And little thinks the eagle's eye
Is piercing to the mid-day sky.
And deems it a vast citadel,
And little thinks the eagle's eye
Is piercing to the mid-day sky.
The silver moon is bright above,
The starlit heaven all beams with love,
And countless worlds are rolling there;
Yet what doth plodding peasant care?
The starlit heaven all beams with love,
And countless worlds are rolling there;
Yet what doth plodding peasant care?
Home wendeth he with blithesome strains,
Nor starlight him nor moon detains;
The moonbeam lights him to his cot,
Yet otherwise he feels it not.
Nor starlight him nor moon detains;
The moonbeam lights him to his cot,
Yet otherwise he feels it not.
The boatman sees the tide go past,
Each following wave is like the last:
What wonder is there in that sea,
With all its dull monotony?
Each following wave is like the last:
What wonder is there in that sea,
With all its dull monotony?
None he perceives; but I can feel
Its music o'er me gently steal;
And every passing wave to me
Is full of new variety.
Its music o'er me gently steal;
And every passing wave to me
Is full of new variety.
3
III.
The turtle labours for her brood,
She watches long, she gathers food,
She warms them with her downy breast,
She spreads her wing to guard their rest;
She watches long, she gathers food,
She warms them with her downy breast,
She spreads her wing to guard their rest;
And still she hovers round, as fear
None there could be, while she was near:
O love maternal! how I bless
Thy self-devoting tenderness!
None there could be, while she was near:
O love maternal! how I bless
Thy self-devoting tenderness!
Yet are there who unmoved and cold
That busy toil of love behold;
Versed in the schoolman's wordy lore,
They call it instinct, think no more:
That busy toil of love behold;
Versed in the schoolman's wordy lore,
They call it instinct, think no more:
As if 'twere not by Nature's plan
A lesson meant for selfish man!
Dearer the Poet's dream to me
Than all their vain philosophy.
A lesson meant for selfish man!
Dearer the Poet's dream to me
Than all their vain philosophy.
IV.
I love the daisy of the green,
I love the snowdrop's pensive mien,
The honeysuckle's graceful twine,
The primrose coy, the eglantine.
I love the snowdrop's pensive mien,
The honeysuckle's graceful twine,
The primrose coy, the eglantine.
Thou woodland sister of the rose!
The vale no sweeter blossom shows:
Thine opening bud is like the smile
Of infant joy, that knows no guile:
The vale no sweeter blossom shows:
Thine opening bud is like the smile
Of infant joy, that knows no guile:
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Thou lightest all the bramble rude,
Thou bloomest in the solitude,
Teaching that e'en the thorny shade
Was for delight and beauty made.
Thou bloomest in the solitude,
Teaching that e'en the thorny shade
Was for delight and beauty made.
Yea, I should deem mine own heart dull,
Did I not think thee wonderful:
Yet thousands pass thee by, and see
Nought but a poor wild flower in thee.
Did I not think thee wonderful:
Yet thousands pass thee by, and see
Nought but a poor wild flower in thee.
V.
The meanest of created things
Kind Nature to perfection brings;
And nothing is so poor or small,
But yet is great, as part of all.
Kind Nature to perfection brings;
And nothing is so poor or small,
But yet is great, as part of all.
The leafage dropping to the ground
Hath meaning in the faintest sound;
And thoughts with busy purpose rife
Are call'd by shadows into life.
Hath meaning in the faintest sound;
And thoughts with busy purpose rife
Are call'd by shadows into life.
The worldling with incessant gaze
Himself in ample pride surveys:
All else, as thro' a glass obscure,
Before him flits in miniature.
Himself in ample pride surveys:
All else, as thro' a glass obscure,
Before him flits in miniature.
Intent upon his narrow self,
And crawling after earthly pelf,
He grasps the dust, calls that his own,
Life, wealth, enjoyment, that alone.
And crawling after earthly pelf,
He grasps the dust, calls that his own,
Life, wealth, enjoyment, that alone.
5
Cling, reptile, cling to thy vile dust;
Mingle with it full soon thou must.
Dearer the Poet's dream to me
Than thy misnamed reality.
Mingle with it full soon thou must.
Dearer the Poet's dream to me
Than thy misnamed reality.
VI.
For what is real? Knowest thou,
Vain-glorious mortal? Tell me how.
The laws of Nature he must learn,
Who false and real would discern.
Vain-glorious mortal? Tell me how.
The laws of Nature he must learn,
Who false and real would discern.
Behold, with generous hand profuse
She scatters plenty for thy use,
She biddeth thee the essence cull
Of all the sweet and beautiful.
She scatters plenty for thy use,
She biddeth thee the essence cull
Of all the sweet and beautiful.
The flower, the fruit, are all for thee,
If thou wert like the honey-bee,
Tasteful and wise: but oh, beware!
The fruit has gall, the flower a snare.
If thou wert like the honey-bee,
Tasteful and wise: but oh, beware!
The fruit has gall, the flower a snare.
Is thine a prudence, thine a power
To treasure stores for winter's hour?
Or wastest thou the season's prime,
Borne thoughtless down the stream of time?
To treasure stores for winter's hour?
Or wastest thou the season's prime,
Borne thoughtless down the stream of time?
Thy joys, thy pleasures, what are they?
With golden promise bright to-day:
But ere the morrow's dawn hath shone,
Like wither'd blossoms, they are gone.
With golden promise bright to-day:
But ere the morrow's dawn hath shone,
Like wither'd blossoms, they are gone.
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VII.
A carved monumental stone
To passing strangers maketh known,
That in yon grave doth one abide,
Who pious lived, lamented died.
To passing strangers maketh known,
That in yon grave doth one abide,
Who pious lived, lamented died.
Tis false! his truth, his faith he sold,
His peace, his slumber, all for gold;
He walk'd with purpose dark and blind;
He shut his heart 'gainst all mankind:
His peace, his slumber, all for gold;
He walk'd with purpose dark and blind;
He shut his heart 'gainst all mankind:
He sought to frame 'gainst earthly want
A buckler strong as adamant;
In vain: by avarice enslaved,
For more and more he ever craved:
A buckler strong as adamant;
In vain: by avarice enslaved,
For more and more he ever craved:
He would not drink from Nature's well,
Yet burn'd with thirst unquenchable;
His heart was arid as the sand
That gleams on Libya's desert-strand:
Yet burn'd with thirst unquenchable;
His heart was arid as the sand
That gleams on Libya's desert-strand:
He died, and none lamented him,
While many a scowl of pleasure grim
Told that the very slaves he fed
Rejoiced to see their tyrant dead.
While many a scowl of pleasure grim
Told that the very slaves he fed
Rejoiced to see their tyrant dead.
Did he then aught of real gain
With all his care, his toil, his pain?
No: in a dream his life he spent,
To gain that worthless monument.
With all his care, his toil, his pain?
No: in a dream his life he spent,
To gain that worthless monument.
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VIII.
Nor wiser, who devote to sense
The life-sustaining elements,
The precious seed of heavenly flame
That animates this mortal frame.
The life-sustaining elements,
The precious seed of heavenly flame
That animates this mortal frame.
Press from the grape the blushing wine!
Tis full of sunny juice divine!
See, see; those bubbling streams invite
To bathe the soul in soft delight!
Tis full of sunny juice divine!
See, see; those bubbling streams invite
To bathe the soul in soft delight!
Hold! there is poison in the cup!
The madman breathless drinks it up;
With riot laughter swells his eye,
It rolls, it swims in ecstasy:
The madman breathless drinks it up;
With riot laughter swells his eye,
It rolls, it swims in ecstasy:
Aerial shapes before him stand,
And seem to move at his command:
Yes; imps of hell! they dance for glee,
To see that frantic revelry!
And seem to move at his command:
Yes; imps of hell! they dance for glee,
To see that frantic revelry!
Soon prostrate on the ground will lie,
Who now is soaring to the sky:
From earth, not heaven, those raptures come;
The drunkard's wild delirium.
Who now is soaring to the sky:
From earth, not heaven, those raptures come;
The drunkard's wild delirium.
IX.
And thou, who feel'st the subtle charm,
The tender thrill, the soft alarm,
And all that fancy e'er combined
To make the love of womankind:
The tender thrill, the soft alarm,
And all that fancy e'er combined
To make the love of womankind:
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Oh, whence those trembling fond desires?
It is a Goddess who inspires!
Mark ye the splendour of that face,
Her every motion full of grace!
It is a Goddess who inspires!
Mark ye the splendour of that face,
Her every motion full of grace!
And in her form such majesty,
And in her look such witchery!
It were a taste for Gods to sip
The bloom from off that rosy lip!
And in her look such witchery!
It were a taste for Gods to sip
The bloom from off that rosy lip!
Thou hangest on her siren tongue;
Its note is soft as fairy-song,
More sweet than murmur in the glade
By gently falling waters made.
Its note is soft as fairy-song,
More sweet than murmur in the glade
By gently falling waters made.
A few brief years, and thou no more
Shalt find a Goddess to adore;
Parch'd will that lip and pale have grown,
Tuneless and harsh that silver tone:
Shalt find a Goddess to adore;
Parch'd will that lip and pale have grown,
Tuneless and harsh that silver tone:
The winning smile, the snowy brow,
The blushes that enchant thee now,
All with thy love will disappear,
Or linger in remembrance drear.
The blushes that enchant thee now,
All with thy love will disappear,
Or linger in remembrance drear.
Yet why the name of Love profane?
Love tempts not mortals to their bane:
Tis not celestial Love supplies
Thy wanton thoughts and burning sighs:
Love tempts not mortals to their bane:
Tis not celestial Love supplies
Thy wanton thoughts and burning sighs:
9
O self-deceived! Tis carnal heat
That makes thy pulse so wildly beat:
Base earthly passions in thee stir:
Awake, thou idol-worshipper!
That makes thy pulse so wildly beat:
Base earthly passions in thee stir:
Awake, thou idol-worshipper!
X.
And what is fame? A thing of air,
Sought far and wide, and found nowhere:
More flitting than a shade. Who knows
From whence it came, or whither goes?
Sought far and wide, and found nowhere:
More flitting than a shade. Who knows
From whence it came, or whither goes?
The Statesman plans, he giveth laws,
While listening senates peal applause;
The people bless their happy lot,
And hail him for a patriot;
While listening senates peal applause;
The people bless their happy lot,
And hail him for a patriot;
Their gratulations echoing pour,
Like ocean waves from shore to shore;
Then silence; and they die away,
Like tones of some forgotten lay.
Like ocean waves from shore to shore;
Then silence; and they die away,
Like tones of some forgotten lay.
Soon other sounds are on the gale;
They tell a new, a different tale;
The people mourn; and he the cause;
They curse the man, revile his laws:
They tell a new, a different tale;
The people mourn; and he the cause;
They curse the man, revile his laws:
The storm frowns, gathers, bursts at length:
Yet courage! he hath inward strength
To bear him up! Ah, no! he shrinks
Before the cruel blow; he sinks,
Yet courage! he hath inward strength
To bear him up! Ah, no! he shrinks
Before the cruel blow; he sinks,
10
Hopeless, heartsmitten; as an oak,
When riven by the lightning-stroke,
Sapless and bare and honour-shorn,
Stands on the blasted heath forlorn.
When riven by the lightning-stroke,
Sapless and bare and honour-shorn,
Stands on the blasted heath forlorn.
XI.
The victor's praise loud clarions tell,
While nations ring the funeral knell.
O madness! One there lived, whose breath
Was victory, whose frown was death:
While nations ring the funeral knell.
O madness! One there lived, whose breath
Was victory, whose frown was death:
He seem'd on earth a demi-god;
On throne and altar fierce he trod;
He moved and found no resting-place;
Shook the broad hills his thunder-pace:
On throne and altar fierce he trod;
He moved and found no resting-place;
Shook the broad hills his thunder-pace:
His war-denouncing trumpet blew,
And thousand thousands round him flew,
For him to fight, for him to bleed,
His name their watchword and their creed:
And thousand thousands round him flew,
For him to fight, for him to bleed,
His name their watchword and their creed:
He march'd to Winter's icy field
And sternly bade the Monarch yield;
But Winter call'd her vassal train,
Famine and frost and hurricane:
And sternly bade the Monarch yield;
But Winter call'd her vassal train,
Famine and frost and hurricane:
She came, and blew so dread a blast,
Shriek'd vale and mountain as she pass'd;
With wrath more deadly than the sword
Upon the foe her tempests pour'd:
Shriek'd vale and mountain as she pass'd;
With wrath more deadly than the sword
Upon the foe her tempests pour'd:
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There under waves of sweeping snow
The mighty men of war lay low,
The blood was frozen in their veins,
Their bones were scatter'd on the plains.
The mighty men of war lay low,
The blood was frozen in their veins,
Their bones were scatter'd on the plains.
Twas not for this the gallant band
March'd proudly from their fatherland:
Of fields, of glory dreamt the brave,
Of conquest or a soldier's grave.
March'd proudly from their fatherland:
Of fields, of glory dreamt the brave,
Of conquest or a soldier's grave.
And dreamt not he, that soul of pride,
Who scorn'd the earth and heaven defied?
I wis not what his visions were;
But his awaking was despair.
Who scorn'd the earth and heaven defied?
I wis not what his visions were;
But his awaking was despair.
XII.
The poet's aim is pure and high;
The poet's love can never die:
He pants for gales that ever blow,
He thirsts for streams that ever flow:
The poet's love can never die:
He pants for gales that ever blow,
He thirsts for streams that ever flow:
His eye is soft as Luna's ray,
Yet dazzling as the orb of day,
Light as the silver-shining rill,
Yet, as the ocean, deep and still.
Yet dazzling as the orb of day,
Light as the silver-shining rill,
Yet, as the ocean, deep and still.
Now loves he in the shade to lie,
Now sparkles like the butterfly,
Now like a swallow skims the stream,
Now basks him in the sunny beam.
Now sparkles like the butterfly,
Now like a swallow skims the stream,
Now basks him in the sunny beam.
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He softly breathes on Nature's lute;
To hear his lay, the winds are mute,
And air and heaven and earth and sea
Swell with deep love and sympathy.
To hear his lay, the winds are mute,
And air and heaven and earth and sea
Swell with deep love and sympathy.
He soars where never bird hath flown,
O'er regions vast, to man unknown;
He comes, and tells where he hath been,
He comes, and tells what he hath seen;
O'er regions vast, to man unknown;
He comes, and tells where he hath been,
He comes, and tells what he hath seen;
And few believe; yet still he sings
Of his unearthly wanderings,
And whispers into kindred ears
A music tuned for happier spheres.
Of his unearthly wanderings,
And whispers into kindred ears
A music tuned for happier spheres.
In great and small his heart hath place,
Of love divine he finds the trace,
In woman more than beauty sees,
In life unnumber'd mysteries:
Of love divine he finds the trace,
In woman more than beauty sees,
In life unnumber'd mysteries:
Dreams, if thou wilt! so let it be:
Fresh glories ever weaveth he;
Truthful and bright and spirit-free
He dreams of immortality.
Fresh glories ever weaveth he;
Truthful and bright and spirit-free
He dreams of immortality.
| Poems; original and translated | |