 | Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature |  |
1
STUDIES FROM THE ANTIQUE.
3
THE EUMENIDES:
A VISION OF THALES.
I, Thales, sitting on the seat of Judgment,
And striving to distinguish Truth from Falsehood,
To uncoil the tangled knot of human Error,
And solve the riddle of capricious Fortune,
Beheld a vision.
And striving to distinguish Truth from Falsehood,
To uncoil the tangled knot of human Error,
And solve the riddle of capricious Fortune,
Beheld a vision.
Suddenly before me,
Instead of busy mart and swarming people,
I saw on level of mine eyes, uplifted,
A mountain summit, bathed in light Eternal,
With sharp cold pinnacles of ice and granite,
'Mid which there stood, each touching close the other,
Three thrones of adamant with golden footstools,
And on them seated three celestial maidens,
In robes of grey, with crowns upon their foreheads,
And in their pale white hands three silver sceptres.
Instead of busy mart and swarming people,
I saw on level of mine eyes, uplifted,
A mountain summit, bathed in light Eternal,
With sharp cold pinnacles of ice and granite,
'Mid which there stood, each touching close the other,
4
And on them seated three celestial maidens,
In robes of grey, with crowns upon their foreheads,
And in their pale white hands three silver sceptres.
Most beautiful they were, but sad and solemn.
Their brows were heavy with supernal wisdom;
Their deep dark eyes shone passionless and star-like,
As if the great world-pageant spread beneath them,
And mirrored in their orbs, were but the shadow
Of mighty purpose hidden in the silence
Of their inscrutable will, on which for ever
And evermore they turned their inward glances.
Serene and calm they seemed, and yet most mournful;
As men might be if God had given them knowledge
Of misery to come, but had denied them
All right or power to lessen or avert it.
Their brows were heavy with supernal wisdom;
Their deep dark eyes shone passionless and star-like,
As if the great world-pageant spread beneath them,
And mirrored in their orbs, were but the shadow
Of mighty purpose hidden in the silence
Of their inscrutable will, on which for ever
And evermore they turned their inward glances.
Serene and calm they seemed, and yet most mournful;
As men might be if God had given them knowledge
Of misery to come, but had denied them
All right or power to lessen or avert it.
I gazed with awe—not terror—at their presence,
And saw, beyond the peak, revolving slowly,
A mighty wheel, that seemed of mist and vapour,
Built up intangible. Unceasing ever,
It rolled and whirled. And I beheld the maidens
Moving each one her foot, as on a treadle;
And, dimly glittering in the icy sunshine,
And slender as the gossamer web, dew-laden,
Three filmy threads, that met beneath their foot-stools,
And turned the shadowy wheel through storm and sunshine.
And saw, beyond the peak, revolving slowly,
5
Built up intangible. Unceasing ever,
It rolled and whirled. And I beheld the maidens
Moving each one her foot, as on a treadle;
And, dimly glittering in the icy sunshine,
And slender as the gossamer web, dew-laden,
Three filmy threads, that met beneath their foot-stools,
And turned the shadowy wheel through storm and sunshine.
Suspicious of my reason, or mine eyesight,
I watched; and suddenly, with dull effulgence,
Red as new iron beaten on the anvil,
It glimmered into shape and palpable substance;
Then, bursting into flame from tire to axle,
It lighted Earth and Heaven with crimson glory,
Too dazzling for mine eyes. I shut them slowly,
And when I looked again the clouds had gathered,
And the great wheel revolved in mist and darkness
Impalpable, and ominous of evil,
Huge as a planet wandering from its orbit,
Foreboding plague and war or coming chaos.
I watched; and suddenly, with dull effulgence,
Red as new iron beaten on the anvil,
It glimmered into shape and palpable substance;
Then, bursting into flame from tire to axle,
It lighted Earth and Heaven with crimson glory,
Too dazzling for mine eyes. I shut them slowly,
And when I looked again the clouds had gathered,
And the great wheel revolved in mist and darkness
Impalpable, and ominous of evil,
6
Foreboding plague and war or coming chaos.
The three calm sisters saw me not, nor heeded:
But gazing there alone, and sore bewildered,
I felt the need of human speech and counsel,
And found them suddenly. Beside me standing,
Partakers with me of the heavenly vision,
I saw a little child, a five-year infant,
With mild blue eyes and hair of golden lustre;
A youth in prime of over lusty vigour;
And an old man, bowed down with care and sorrow,
And hoary with the weight of eighty winters.
“See!”said the child, and plucked me by the garments,
“How beautiful they are—the lovely maidens—
Smiles on their lips and crowns upon their fore-heads!”
The young man shuddered; his right hand was bloody:
I saw the stains of murder as he raised it
To cover up his eyes. “Their hair is snaky,
Their looks assassinate, their breath is poison,
They read my inmost secrets to denounce me.
Oh! let me fly to darkness and the Desert,
To Hell itself, if only to escape them—
The furious, terrible, avenging Horrors!”
But gazing there alone, and sore bewildered,
I felt the need of human speech and counsel,
And found them suddenly. Beside me standing,
Partakers with me of the heavenly vision,
I saw a little child, a five-year infant,
With mild blue eyes and hair of golden lustre;
A youth in prime of over lusty vigour;
And an old man, bowed down with care and sorrow,
And hoary with the weight of eighty winters.
“See!”said the child, and plucked me by the garments,
“How beautiful they are—the lovely maidens—
Smiles on their lips and crowns upon their fore-heads!”
The young man shuddered; his right hand was bloody:
I saw the stains of murder as he raised it
7
Their looks assassinate, their breath is poison,
They read my inmost secrets to denounce me.
Oh! let me fly to darkness and the Desert,
To Hell itself, if only to escape them—
The furious, terrible, avenging Horrors!”
The old man sighed: “They look on me reproachful—
They speak to me, although thou canst not hear them,
And tell me of my miserable errors—
My promise unfulfilled—my glory tarnished—
My opportunities misused, perverted,
And lost for ever! More than this; they tell me
Of grievous wrong committed, unatoned for—
Of life that had no object but indulgence
In selfish passion. I would die most gladly
If they would only cease to look upon me,
And let me pass into the quiet Hades,
As the stone sinks into the deep sea caverns,
And lies untroubled and forgot for ever.”
They speak to me, although thou canst not hear them,
And tell me of my miserable errors—
My promise unfulfilled—my glory tarnished—
My opportunities misused, perverted,
And lost for ever! More than this; they tell me
Of grievous wrong committed, unatoned for—
Of life that had no object but indulgence
In selfish passion. I would die most gladly
If they would only cease to look upon me,
And let me pass into the quiet Hades,
As the stone sinks into the deep sea caverns,
And lies untroubled and forgot for ever.”
8
“Behold the sisters three!”a soft voice whispered,
Far in the upper air, or in my spirit:
“Behold the Fates! the dreadful yet auspicious;
Regents of Earth and Heaven, of Man and Nature;
Good to the good, and terrible to the wicked,
Just and inflexible. Behold, and fear not!”
Far in the upper air, or in my spirit:
“Behold the Fates! the dreadful yet auspicious;
Regents of Earth and Heaven, of Man and Nature;
Good to the good, and terrible to the wicked,
Just and inflexible. Behold, and fear not!”
I bowed my head in silent adoration,
And questioned of myself the secret meaning
Why they were three? The same still voice responded—
“Three but yet one:—the tree, the grass, the flower
Have but one nature and one law to guide them;
The beast hath two—the physical and mental;
But man, their lord, hath three.—Threefold in function,
Threefold in attribute—threefold obedience
He oweth to the gods;—and he who blindly,
Rashly, or wilfully is false to either,
Must pay the penalty in pain and sorrow.
Who breaks the physical law, that law condemns him;
Who breaks the intellectual, sins and suffers;
And who the moral—highest law of nature—
Must bear the heavier punishment decreed him
By Fate—the Law of God that changes never.”
And questioned of myself the secret meaning
Why they were three? The same still voice responded—
“Three but yet one:—the tree, the grass, the flower
Have but one nature and one law to guide them;
The beast hath two—the physical and mental;
But man, their lord, hath three.—Threefold in function,
Threefold in attribute—threefold obedience
He oweth to the gods;—and he who blindly,
Rashly, or wilfully is false to either,
Must pay the penalty in pain and sorrow.
Who breaks the physical law, that law condemns him;
9
And who the moral—highest law of nature—
Must bear the heavier punishment decreed him
By Fate—the Law of God that changes never.”
The still voice spake no more—my soul was silent,
And lifting up my head from mine abasement
I looked around; and lo! I sat in judgment
On mine accustomed seat, and heard around me
The murmur of the people.—Heed the vision,
Ye who come up to me to plead for Justice!
Those who miscall the pleasant Fates, the Furies,
Condemn themselves. The Fates are as we make them.
And lifting up my head from mine abasement
I looked around; and lo! I sat in judgment
On mine accustomed seat, and heard around me
The murmur of the people.—Heed the vision,
Ye who come up to me to plead for Justice!
Those who miscall the pleasant Fates, the Furies,
Condemn themselves. The Fates are as we make them.
10
ASTRÆA;
OR, THE DEPARTURE OF THE GODS.
There passed a shadow on the noonday sun,
And all the populous cities of the East
Poured upon housetop, tower, and battlement
Their countless multitudes, to watch and pray.
And all the populous cities of the East
Poured upon housetop, tower, and battlement
Their countless multitudes, to watch and pray.
The mountaineer stood sunward on the cliff,
Or knelt in terror as the shadow grew;
And fear-pale shepherds gathered on the plains,
And smote their breasts, or whispered, each to each,
Of mighty change, and prophecy fulfilled.
Or knelt in terror as the shadow grew;
And fear-pale shepherds gathered on the plains,
And smote their breasts, or whispered, each to each,
Of mighty change, and prophecy fulfilled.
From deepest gloom of overhanging boughs
Came the scared foresters to open glades,
That they might gaze upon the ominous Noon;
And having seen it, cover up their eyes
To wait in darkness the impending stroke
Of vague, unknown, inevitable Doom.
Came the scared foresters to open glades,
11
And having seen it, cover up their eyes
To wait in darkness the impending stroke
Of vague, unknown, inevitable Doom.
Far on the Euxine and Egean seas
Adventurous sailors, hopelessly becalmed,
Looked at the useless helm or idle sail,
And called upon the gods of wave and wind,
And sea-nymphs, hidden in their coral caves,
To aid them in extremity forlorn:—
The gods and nymphs had sorrows of their own
Keener than mortal griefs, and heard them not.
Adventurous sailors, hopelessly becalmed,
Looked at the useless helm or idle sail,
And called upon the gods of wave and wind,
And sea-nymphs, hidden in their coral caves,
To aid them in extremity forlorn:—
The gods and nymphs had sorrows of their own
Keener than mortal griefs, and heard them not.
There was a sense of pain upon the world:
Wild beasts grew tame for terror; timid birds
Flew to men's bosoms for security;
The trembling lion herded with the kine;
The flow'rets closed their petals; and the leaves
And pendulous foliage of the forest trees
Quivered no more, but hung as carved in stone.
Wild beasts grew tame for terror; timid birds
Flew to men's bosoms for security;
The trembling lion herded with the kine;
The flow'rets closed their petals; and the leaves
And pendulous foliage of the forest trees
Quivered no more, but hung as carved in stone.
12
The darkness gathered;—darker at full Noon
Than in the dense opaque of starless night;
And all the people of all climes and tongues,
Moaned infant-like, and wrung their clammy hands,
Or lay upon the sward as they were dead—
Save a few priests, and sages, and old men,
Who hoped or prayed; and some few babes that slept.
Than in the dense opaque of starless night;
And all the people of all climes and tongues,
Moaned infant-like, and wrung their clammy hands,
Or lay upon the sward as they were dead—
Save a few priests, and sages, and old men,
Who hoped or prayed; and some few babes that slept.
Light broke at last; a sudden haze of beams:
Lurid and fitful;—now like tongues of flame,
Speaking in thunder; now like blazing stars
Cast from their place, and reeling to the Earth,
For fellowship of ruin; now like swords
Unsheathed, titanic, from Orion's belt,
And splintering into comets as they clashed;
Now shooting up o'er all the western sky
In one pale, solemn, luminous Cross of Fire
That filled the Universe with tender light,
And made men hopeful—though they knew not why.
Lurid and fitful;—now like tongues of flame,
Speaking in thunder; now like blazing stars
Cast from their place, and reeling to the Earth,
For fellowship of ruin; now like swords
Unsheathed, titanic, from Orion's belt,
And splintering into comets as they clashed;
Now shooting up o'er all the western sky
In one pale, solemn, luminous Cross of Fire
That filled the Universe with tender light,
And made men hopeful—though they knew not why.
13
It gleamed, it shone, it dimmed, it disappeared,
But left behind o'er all the purpling Heaven
The mellow twilight of a coming Day,
On which were shadowed as on Magic Glass
Phantasmal multitudes, and warring hosts
Of stature huge—huger a hundred-fold
Than white-peaked Atlas, Alp, or Ararat—
Who wheeled, and reeled, and struggled hand to hand
For mastery and dominion, and sole power
Over the Earth and Men. Perchance for Truth,
Perchance for Falsehood, strove the combatants;
But whether Truth or Falsehood, Right or Wrong,
The means were blood and sorrow; and the end
New agony—and still recurring war.
But left behind o'er all the purpling Heaven
The mellow twilight of a coming Day,
On which were shadowed as on Magic Glass
Phantasmal multitudes, and warring hosts
Of stature huge—huger a hundred-fold
Than white-peaked Atlas, Alp, or Ararat—
Who wheeled, and reeled, and struggled hand to hand
For mastery and dominion, and sole power
Over the Earth and Men. Perchance for Truth,
Perchance for Falsehood, strove the combatants;
But whether Truth or Falsehood, Right or Wrong,
The means were blood and sorrow; and the end
New agony—and still recurring war.
Again the Cross of Fire shot up through space,
Shone for a moment, and was lost from sight
In rolling cloud and uttermost eclipse;
And men were conscious of lament in Heaven,
And wail on Earth; of mournful words that swoll
Upon the feverish pulses of the wind,
And seemed to shape themselves in human speech—
“Farewell for ever! we return no more!”
Shone for a moment, and was lost from sight
In rolling cloud and uttermost eclipse;
And men were conscious of lament in Heaven,
14
Upon the feverish pulses of the wind,
And seemed to shape themselves in human speech—
“Farewell for ever! we return no more!”
'Twas the foredoomed departure of the gods
From Earth to Heaven:—his high Olympian seat
Zeus had forsaken; and the Age of Gold,
When mortal with immortal might commune,
Had passed for ever. From the upper air
And from the darkened orbit of the sun,
Jarring in thunders, came the mournful voice
Of grey-haired Saturn; then Apollo spake,
With louder grief that shook the tuneful spheres;
Then Hera and the blue-eyed Diomed;
But Aphrodite, sorrowing more than they,
Framed into speech their passion and her own,
Her voice all tremulous and choked with tears:
“Farewell, farewell, to suffering human kind!
Farewell the flowery islands of the sea,
The hill-tops, and the valleys, and the groves;
Farewell the temples and the oracles,
And teeming cities where our praise was sung,
At morning and at evening sacrifice;
Farewell for ever! we return no more!”
From Earth to Heaven:—his high Olympian seat
Zeus had forsaken; and the Age of Gold,
When mortal with immortal might commune,
Had passed for ever. From the upper air
And from the darkened orbit of the sun,
Jarring in thunders, came the mournful voice
Of grey-haired Saturn; then Apollo spake,
With louder grief that shook the tuneful spheres;
Then Hera and the blue-eyed Diomed;
But Aphrodite, sorrowing more than they,
Framed into speech their passion and her own,
Her voice all tremulous and choked with tears:
“Farewell, farewell, to suffering human kind!
Farewell the flowery islands of the sea,
The hill-tops, and the valleys, and the groves;
15
And teeming cities where our praise was sung,
At morning and at evening sacrifice;
Farewell for ever! we return no more!”
On the sea-beach, and far from sight of land,
Was heard a murmur. Men who strove to pierce
The mournful mystery, and translate in words
Articulate, the music of the moan,
Imagined they beheld Poseidon's robe
Trailing its sea-green folds upon the wave,
And fading formless into clouds and mist
As the voice spake: “Farewell, O pleasant sea!
O joyous waves! O billows of the rock!
O flowery shore, and amber-coloured sands!
Farewell for ever! we return no more!”
Was heard a murmur. Men who strove to pierce
The mournful mystery, and translate in words
Articulate, the music of the moan,
Imagined they beheld Poseidon's robe
Trailing its sea-green folds upon the wave,
And fading formless into clouds and mist
As the voice spake: “Farewell, O pleasant sea!
O joyous waves! O billows of the rock!
O flowery shore, and amber-coloured sands!
Farewell for ever! we return no more!”
Through long-green archways of the ancient woods,
Rising amid the grasses and the flowers,
And mounting to the tree-tops like a breeze
That has a fancy to become a storm,
Sounded a plaint, confused and intricate,
Of mystic voices blending into one.
Pan and his once rejoicing brotherhood
Of Faun and Satyrs, joyous now no more—
Pan and his buoyant nymphs of bower and stream,
Dryad and Nereid, sore discomforted,
Seemed to commingle in one long low chant,
Harmonious and melodious all their pain.
“Farewell!”they said, “a long and last farewell
To dells and valleys, once our happy homes!
Farewell, farewell, companionship with man,
And dance with mortal maidens on the sward
At vintage time, when Earth is blue with grapes!
Farewell, the thymy wilderness of hills
Where we have sported many a summer day
And quaffed the juice that Dionysus gave,
With flashing eyes and wine-empurpled lips!
Farewell, Dodona and the sacred oaks!
Farewell, the myrtle groves, and every tree
That we have loved and dwelt in from old time,
Free, tho' imprisoned! Farewell, lakes and streams
Translucent as the sky, where at hot noon
We've floated lily-like, or dived like birds,
And shook the sparkling moisture from our limbs,
And dived again, or floated, face to heaven,
Our long hair rippling on the rippling wave—
Farewell for ever! we return no more!”
Rising amid the grasses and the flowers,
And mounting to the tree-tops like a breeze
That has a fancy to become a storm,
16
Of mystic voices blending into one.
Pan and his once rejoicing brotherhood
Of Faun and Satyrs, joyous now no more—
Pan and his buoyant nymphs of bower and stream,
Dryad and Nereid, sore discomforted,
Seemed to commingle in one long low chant,
Harmonious and melodious all their pain.
“Farewell!”they said, “a long and last farewell
To dells and valleys, once our happy homes!
Farewell, farewell, companionship with man,
And dance with mortal maidens on the sward
At vintage time, when Earth is blue with grapes!
Farewell, the thymy wilderness of hills
Where we have sported many a summer day
And quaffed the juice that Dionysus gave,
With flashing eyes and wine-empurpled lips!
Farewell, Dodona and the sacred oaks!
Farewell, the myrtle groves, and every tree
That we have loved and dwelt in from old time,
17
Translucent as the sky, where at hot noon
We've floated lily-like, or dived like birds,
And shook the sparkling moisture from our limbs,
And dived again, or floated, face to heaven,
Our long hair rippling on the rippling wave—
Farewell for ever! we return no more!”
“Alas, poor Earth! alas, poor human kind!”
Said a sweet voice, clear echoing o'er the sky;
“What shall be done, if all the gods depart
And leave you to your wickedness and shame?
What shall be done when Love's bright flame is dimmed,
And Beauty tarnished, Joy made sickly pale,
Religion's self converted to a Trade,
And Lust and Anger, Hate and Selfishness,
Left without curb, to riot unrestrained,
Uncared for by the gods? Alas! alas!
This may not be!—Though gods and goddesses
And all the heroes of the Golden Age
Are fled for ever, Hope shall not depart:
Astræa shall remain! Rejoice, O earth!
For Justice shall be with you evermore;
The Wrong shall not be victor over Right
Without the penalty, twin born with crime;
The weak shall not be victims of the strong
Without God's remedy! Clear, darkening Heaven!
Smile out afresh, thou long-dejected Day!
Look up, ye nations, and be sad no more,
Astræa lingers in her ancient haunts,
Queen of the world, as in the olden time,
To aid the weak, to succour the oppressed,
And vindicate the justice of the gods!”
Said a sweet voice, clear echoing o'er the sky;
“What shall be done, if all the gods depart
And leave you to your wickedness and shame?
What shall be done when Love's bright flame is dimmed,
And Beauty tarnished, Joy made sickly pale,
Religion's self converted to a Trade,
And Lust and Anger, Hate and Selfishness,
Left without curb, to riot unrestrained,
Uncared for by the gods? Alas! alas!
This may not be!—Though gods and goddesses
And all the heroes of the Golden Age
18
Astræa shall remain! Rejoice, O earth!
For Justice shall be with you evermore;
The Wrong shall not be victor over Right
Without the penalty, twin born with crime;
The weak shall not be victims of the strong
Without God's remedy! Clear, darkening Heaven!
Smile out afresh, thou long-dejected Day!
Look up, ye nations, and be sad no more,
Astræa lingers in her ancient haunts,
Queen of the world, as in the olden time,
To aid the weak, to succour the oppressed,
And vindicate the justice of the gods!”
The darkness cleared—the Sun looked forth from Heaven,
The gods no more lamented; and men's hearts
Were lightened of an agony and fear,
As mild Astræa spake, with tearful eyes,
And heavenly sympathy for erring men.
But never since that melancholy day
Has Nature smiled as brightly as before.
Beauty received a blemish and a taint,
And Love, th' immortal, though immortal still,
Sullied its purity with worldly thought:
The Golden Age had lapsed—the Iron came.
The gods no more lamented; and men's hearts
Were lightened of an agony and fear,
As mild Astræa spake, with tearful eyes,
And heavenly sympathy for erring men.
19
Has Nature smiled as brightly as before.
Beauty received a blemish and a taint,
And Love, th' immortal, though immortal still,
Sullied its purity with worldly thought:
The Golden Age had lapsed—the Iron came.
20
ACANTHA.
Lusty Apollo, casting off his glory,
Too fierce for mortal eyes to bear unblinded,
Robed his immortal limbs in human beauty,
And came to Hybla on a morn of summer,
Where young Acantha roamed in thymy valleys,
Tending her milk-white goats and gathering honey.
Too fierce for mortal eyes to bear unblinded,
Robed his immortal limbs in human beauty,
And came to Hybla on a morn of summer,
Where young Acantha roamed in thymy valleys,
Tending her milk-white goats and gathering honey.
The god beheld her, and his pent-up passion
Shot lightnings through his eyes and through his pulses,
And quivered through his speech in waves of music.
She, coy and cold, affected not to see him,
And turned her dreamy glances to the daisies,
As if she'd read them to discover Fortune.
Shot lightnings through his eyes and through his pulses,
And quivered through his speech in waves of music.
She, coy and cold, affected not to see him,
And turned her dreamy glances to the daisies,
As if she'd read them to discover Fortune.
21
“Blue-eyed Acantha! Listen to my wooing!
Long have I sought thee o'er the upland pastures:
I've found thee oft, but never found thy favour,
Or caught one smile to bid me hope another—
Wintry in heart, but Spring-like in thy beauty—
Burst into perfect Summer—sweet Acantha!
Long have I sought thee o'er the upland pastures:
I've found thee oft, but never found thy favour,
Or caught one smile to bid me hope another—
Wintry in heart, but Spring-like in thy beauty—
Burst into perfect Summer—sweet Acantha!
“Fair-haired Acantha! Listen to my wooing!
There's not a shepherd boy in all our Hellas
Can swim or wrestle, dance or sing, as I can;
But dance and song are idle to my fancy.
The cool waves tempt me not, and sports oppress me
And all because thou'rt coy to me, Acantha!
There's not a shepherd boy in all our Hellas
Can swim or wrestle, dance or sing, as I can;
But dance and song are idle to my fancy.
The cool waves tempt me not, and sports oppress me
And all because thou'rt coy to me, Acantha!
“Rose-lipped Acantha! Listen to my wooing!
Fairest of maids, and brightest, though unkindest,
I have a bower, deep hidden on Parnassus,
Where I will feed thee upon milk and honey,
And love thee more than mortal tongue can tell thee,
If thou'lt be mine, as I am thine, Acantha!
Fairest of maids, and brightest, though unkindest,
I have a bower, deep hidden on Parnassus,
Where I will feed thee upon milk and honey,
And love thee more than mortal tongue can tell thee,
If thou'lt be mine, as I am thine, Acantha!
22
“Snow-browed Acantha! Listen to my wooing!
Thy name and beauty shall be sung for ever,
In merry roundelays of happy lovers,
Or in the plaintive songs of nursing mothers.
The star of maids—the paragon of matrons—
If thou'lt be kind, and smile on me, Acantha!
Thy name and beauty shall be sung for ever,
In merry roundelays of happy lovers,
Or in the plaintive songs of nursing mothers.
The star of maids—the paragon of matrons—
If thou'lt be kind, and smile on me, Acantha!
“Balm-breath'd Acantha! Listen to my wooing!
And if my youth, my song, my faith, my passion,
Avail me not, lo! at thy feet behold me!
No shepherd-poet—but a King and warrior;
And thou shalt be my Queen, and reign for ever,
Sceptred and throned—my beautiful Acantha!”
And if my youth, my song, my faith, my passion,
Avail me not, lo! at thy feet behold me!
No shepherd-poet—but a King and warrior;
And thou shalt be my Queen, and reign for ever,
Sceptred and throned—my beautiful Acantha!”
He knelt—the God of Light—but she repelled him.
“I've had a dream,”she said, “and I believe it,
That I shall be beloved of great Apollo;
And till he come, although I may not love him,
I cannot listen to the voice of wooer;—
Shepherd or King, I'm equally above thee.”
“I've had a dream,”she said, “and I believe it,
That I shall be beloved of great Apollo;
And till he come, although I may not love him,
I cannot listen to the voice of wooer;—
Shepherd or King, I'm equally above thee.”
23
Slowly he rose, and looked upon her sadly.
“She that can scorn true love for sake of glory
Deserves not love and priceless fond affection.
Thou hast been offered heart beyond thy knowing,
And song the immortal;—both hast thou rejected,
And grasped a shadow!—desolate Acantha!”
“She that can scorn true love for sake of glory
Deserves not love and priceless fond affection.
Thou hast been offered heart beyond thy knowing,
And song the immortal;—both hast thou rejected,
And grasped a shadow!—desolate Acantha!”
He touched her on the forehead with his finger,
And looked upon her lovingly one instant;
Then blazing on her in his full effulgence,
She perished ere her fair blue eyes could twinkle,
And on the greensward lay a heap of ashes:
And the god sighed, “O loved, but lost Acantha!
And looked upon her lovingly one instant;
Then blazing on her in his full effulgence,
She perished ere her fair blue eyes could twinkle,
And on the greensward lay a heap of ashes:
And the god sighed, “O loved, but lost Acantha!
“Beautiful still—arise from earth's kind bosom
A little flower; and when mankind behold thee,
They'll own thee lovely as thou wert when woman,
But love thee not. The shepherd boy deplores thee,
And o'er thy leaves the poet weeps for pity,
But the god punishes! Forlorn Acantha!”
A little flower; and when mankind behold thee,
They'll own thee lovely as thou wert when woman,
But love thee not. The shepherd boy deplores thee,
And o'er thy leaves the poet weeps for pity,
But the god punishes! Forlorn Acantha!”
24
MARSYAS.
A MIGHTY minstrel on a morn of summer
Came to Arcadia, singing songs divine;
And all the people gathered from the pastures,
From dale, and mead, and brambly mountain side,
And from the flowery banks of blue Meander,
From hamlets, and from villages far scattered;
From mill and smithy, mart and portico;
And from the green recess of grove and forest,
Came young and old, the merry and the mournful,
The thoughtful and the thoughtless, high and lowly,
And all to listen to a Poet's song.
Came to Arcadia, singing songs divine;
And all the people gathered from the pastures,
From dale, and mead, and brambly mountain side,
And from the flowery banks of blue Meander,
From hamlets, and from villages far scattered;
From mill and smithy, mart and portico;
And from the green recess of grove and forest,
Came young and old, the merry and the mournful,
The thoughtful and the thoughtless, high and lowly,
And all to listen to a Poet's song.
O song, divinest ever breathed to mortal!
It caused the eye to glow, the pulse to throb,
The brain to reel with beauty and delight;
It moved the barren heart to fruitful tears,
And warmed the coldest blood to martial frenzy,
Waking all passion and all mystery
By touches masterful. 'T was now a storm,
Rousing and chafing the quiescent sea
To wrath sublime and thunderous hills of foam;
And now a whispering breeze 'mid lily flowers,
Breathing sweet odours and delicious calms.
It caused the eye to glow, the pulse to throb,
25
It moved the barren heart to fruitful tears,
And warmed the coldest blood to martial frenzy,
Waking all passion and all mystery
By touches masterful. 'T was now a storm,
Rousing and chafing the quiescent sea
To wrath sublime and thunderous hills of foam;
And now a whispering breeze 'mid lily flowers,
Breathing sweet odours and delicious calms.
“The mighty Poet! is he god or man?”
Exclaimed the people. “Is he man or god,
Who sings these songs, and sways us to and fro,
Ev'n as he listeth? If he be a god,
Let us kneel down and give him reverence!
And if he be a man, of men the chief,
Let us intreat him that he be our king:
For lo! his words are wisdom, and his songs
Fill us with thoughts too mighty for our speech,
But clear in his, as planets in the sky.
Lo, he is mighty! Let him be our king!”
Exclaimed the people. “Is he man or god,
Who sings these songs, and sways us to and fro,
Ev'n as he listeth? If he be a god,
Let us kneel down and give him reverence!
And if he be a man, of men the chief,
Let us intreat him that he be our king:
For lo! his words are wisdom, and his songs
Fill us with thoughts too mighty for our speech,
But clear in his, as planets in the sky.
Lo, he is mighty! Let him be our king!”
26
And thereat Marsyas—chief of critics he—
Spake to the crowd. “O foolish multitude!
To be so smitten with an idle tune,
Made for his pastime by a shepherd boy!
He hath not studied in the schools of art!
He cannot sing! his words are emptiness!
His lyre is out of tune! and what he saith
Hath been said better fifty times before.
Go, idle boy! Dig gardens, plough the fields,
Or tend the kine, and vex thy soul no more,
Nor us, too busy in a world of care
To give attention to thy songs or thee.”
Spake to the crowd. “O foolish multitude!
To be so smitten with an idle tune,
Made for his pastime by a shepherd boy!
He hath not studied in the schools of art!
He cannot sing! his words are emptiness!
His lyre is out of tune! and what he saith
Hath been said better fifty times before.
Go, idle boy! Dig gardens, plough the fields,
Or tend the kine, and vex thy soul no more,
Nor us, too busy in a world of care
To give attention to thy songs or thee.”
“Thou fool!”;the poet said. “Who made thee judge,
Or gave thee license to let loose thy tongue?
Who judges poets should himself have won
The garland and the crown. Who sounds the deeps
Of mighty natures should have eyes to sean
The lengthening line to which the plummet pends.
Who measures heavenly harmony should hear
The heavenly music in his own true soul.
What hast thou done, presumptuous! or canst do?
Sing, that the people who have ears to hear
And hearts to feel may judge 'twixt thee and me.”
Or gave thee license to let loose thy tongue?
Who judges poets should himself have won
The garland and the crown. Who sounds the deeps
Of mighty natures should have eyes to sean
The lengthening line to which the plummet pends.
Who measures heavenly harmony should hear
27
What hast thou done, presumptuous! or canst do?
Sing, that the people who have ears to hear
And hearts to feel may judge 'twixt thee and me.”
Angry and scornful, Marsyas snatched the lyre,
And struck the quivering strings with rude bold hand,
And sang a limping song of Love and Wine,
Misty and harsh, that jangled out of tune,
Soulless as croak of frogs within the marsh,
Or twittering beak of sparrows on a bough.
And all the people laughed. The minstrel's eye
Gleamed fiery wrath; his red lips curled with scorn;
His stature doubled to heroic bulk;
And all his visage brightened with disdain,
And dazzled the beholders as he spake.
And struck the quivering strings with rude bold hand,
And sang a limping song of Love and Wine,
Misty and harsh, that jangled out of tune,
Soulless as croak of frogs within the marsh,
Or twittering beak of sparrows on a bough.
And all the people laughed. The minstrel's eye
Gleamed fiery wrath; his red lips curled with scorn;
His stature doubled to heroic bulk;
And all his visage brightened with disdain,
And dazzled the beholders as he spake.
“And this thing sits in judgment on the gods,
And calls itself a critic! Fool! rash fool!
Know 'tis Apollo's self whom thou hast scorned,
And hear thy fate. Not for a poor revenge
Unworthy of the poet or the god,
But for example to thy kind and craft—
Example to be fresh till end of time—
I flay thy skin from thy presumptuous flesh,
And nail it to a tree to rot or tan,
That gods and men may see the punishment
Of envious churls and disappointed knaves,
Who strive to trample genius in the mire,
And hate the heavenly fire that warms them not!”
And calls itself a critic! Fool! rash fool!
28
And hear thy fate. Not for a poor revenge
Unworthy of the poet or the god,
But for example to thy kind and craft—
Example to be fresh till end of time—
I flay thy skin from thy presumptuous flesh,
And nail it to a tree to rot or tan,
That gods and men may see the punishment
Of envious churls and disappointed knaves,
Who strive to trample genius in the mire,
And hate the heavenly fire that warms them not!”
Quick as with lightning flash the deed was done.
The victim raised one agonising shriek,
And then was mute for ever. On the tree
The bleeding trophy hung; and ere the crowd
Could draw one breath for wonderment of awe,
Apollo's place was vacant, and the sky
Shone with a slanting ray of purpled gold,
On which he mounted, swift as light, to Heaven.
The victim raised one agonising shriek,
And then was mute for ever. On the tree
The bleeding trophy hung; and ere the crowd
Could draw one breath for wonderment of awe,
Apollo's place was vacant, and the sky
Shone with a slanting ray of purpled gold,
On which he mounted, swift as light, to Heaven.
29
THE WISH OF MIDAS.
“O treacherous Silenus, foe, not friend!
Take back, take back thy miserable boon,
And let my bread be bread, or let me die.
Take back, take back thy miserable boon,
And let my bread be bread, or let me die.
“When yestermorn I was befooled by thee,
And took thy hideous gift, I could not know,
I could not dream, the gods could be so false.
And took thy hideous gift, I could not know,
I could not dream, the gods could be so false.
“I thought thou wert my friend and comforter,
And blessed thy name when, stretching forth my hand
To touch the rose-red apple on the bough,
Or pendent bunches of the purple grapes,
They fell in yellow clusters at my feet:
Gold! all of gold! no purer in the mart.
And blessed thy name when, stretching forth my hand
To touch the rose-red apple on the bough,
Or pendent bunches of the purple grapes,
They fell in yellow clusters at my feet:
Gold! all of gold! no purer in the mart.
30
“I blessed thy name when at the running stream
I bathed my lips, and all the sparkling flood
Rippled in golden waves before my sight.
I bathed my lips, and all the sparkling flood
Rippled in golden waves before my sight.
“I blessed thy name—I justified the gods!
Fool that I was! deluded that I am!
That could not, and that cannot, sound the depths
Of treachery—the gods' far worse than men's.
Fool that I was! deluded that I am!
That could not, and that cannot, sound the depths
Of treachery—the gods' far worse than men's.
“The rain rained on me like a storm of spears,
Each drop that touched me turning into gold,
Heavy enough to batter me to death,
Had I not hidden me in sheltering caves
Until the venomous storm had fretted o'er
Its overflow of wrath.
Each drop that touched me turning into gold,
Heavy enough to batter me to death,
Had I not hidden me in sheltering caves
Until the venomous storm had fretted o'er
Its overflow of wrath.
“Ah, woe is me!
Not all the gold that grows beneath my tread,
Or rattles from my hand, like falling shale
When lightning strikes the cliff, and all the shore
Is strewn with ruin; with the half of which—
Ay, or the twentieth or the hundredth part—
I could endow perpetual monarchies,
And make the meanest beggar more than king,
Is worth the crust a beggar might disdain;
No, nor one drop of water from the spring;
Nor one delicious dew-drop on my tongue—
My tongue burnt up and shrivelled as with fire.
Not all the gold that grows beneath my tread,
Or rattles from my hand, like falling shale
When lightning strikes the cliff, and all the shore
Is strewn with ruin; with the half of which—
31
I could endow perpetual monarchies,
And make the meanest beggar more than king,
Is worth the crust a beggar might disdain;
No, nor one drop of water from the spring;
Nor one delicious dew-drop on my tongue—
My tongue burnt up and shrivelled as with fire.
“Oh, let me drink one long, long, wholesome draught,
And bathe my mouth in water ere I die—
My face, my hands, my body, and my feet!
Oh, let me drink and die! Drink is my heaven,
The crown of all things, Earth's supremest joy,
Worth all that mighty Zeus can e'er bestow!
And bathe my mouth in water ere I die—
My face, my hands, my body, and my feet!
Oh, let me drink and die! Drink is my heaven,
The crown of all things, Earth's supremest joy,
Worth all that mighty Zeus can e'er bestow!
“What have I done to be so smitten down,
Made lower than the beasts that munch the herb,
Or vagrant birds that drink the running stream?
The ox is happy with the juicy grass,
The wolf can put his nozzle in the flood,
But all the blessed moistures of the world
Yield to me nothing—but detested gold.
Made lower than the beasts that munch the herb,
Or vagrant birds that drink the running stream?
The ox is happy with the juicy grass,
The wolf can put his nozzle in the flood,
32
Yield to me nothing—but detested gold.
“What have I done? Silenus, answer me!
Let me not die with curses on my lips,
As die I must, if thou, unmerciful,
Wilt not take pity on my agony,
And cease to mock me. Take, take back thy gifts!
Or, if thou wilt not, then let Zeus down hurl
His deadliest lightnings on my willing head.
I crave not life—I wish to drink and die!”
Let me not die with curses on my lips,
As die I must, if thou, unmerciful,
Wilt not take pity on my agony,
And cease to mock me. Take, take back thy gifts!
Or, if thou wilt not, then let Zeus down hurl
His deadliest lightnings on my willing head.
I crave not life—I wish to drink and die!”
Thus Midas groaned and moaned, and lay him down
Full length upon the sward, and cursed the gods,
And clutching handfuls of the flowers and grass,
Turned them, in desperate bitterness, to gold,
Then flung them from him with intense disdain
And fierce disgust. Silenus, peeping out
From the vast bole of a rough-rinded oak
Six hundred summers old, looked on and laughed,
And held his fat round sides with growing glee;
Then reeling forth as from a drunken bout,
And holding high a flagon running o'er
With blood-red wine, offered the tempting draught
To wretched Midas. “Wilt thou drink?”;quoth he.
Full length upon the sward, and cursed the gods,
And clutching handfuls of the flowers and grass,
Turned them, in desperate bitterness, to gold,
Then flung them from him with intense disdain
And fierce disgust. Silenus, peeping out
From the vast bole of a rough-rinded oak
Six hundred summers old, looked on and laughed,
And held his fat round sides with growing glee;
33
And holding high a flagon running o'er
With blood-red wine, offered the tempting draught
To wretched Midas. “Wilt thou drink?”;quoth he.
“Oh, persecuting and infernal god,
Leave me alone! I wish this hour to die,
And never more to see thy bestial face,
Unless thou wilt relieve me of my curse.”
Leave me alone! I wish this hour to die,
And never more to see thy bestial face,
Unless thou wilt relieve me of my curse.”
“Nay,”;quoth Silenus, “if thou rail and scoff,
How shall I give thee gifts? When beggars sue
With hope of charity, they use fair words.
And so, good friend! rich Midas! thirsty soul!
If thou wouldst drink my wine, or bite my grapes,
Be meek and humble as becomes thy need;
Kneel, beggar, or I shall not pity thee!”
How shall I give thee gifts? When beggars sue
With hope of charity, they use fair words.
And so, good friend! rich Midas! thirsty soul!
If thou wouldst drink my wine, or bite my grapes,
Be meek and humble as becomes thy need;
Kneel, beggar, or I shall not pity thee!”
“Great as the gods, and far more merciful,
Mighty Silenus! let me worship thee!
Divine Silenus! let me kiss the ground
Where thou hast trodden to behold my pain.
I'd rather be the meanest husbandman,
That earns and eats his honest daily bread,
And cools his tongue with water, than I'd be
Such base, abject, and miserable slave
As now I am this moment at thy feet,
Richer than fifty kings, and yet so poor
As to be envious of the very swine
That swill their greasy draff, and sleep in peace.”
Mighty Silenus! let me worship thee!
Divine Silenus! let me kiss the ground
Where thou hast trodden to behold my pain.
34
That earns and eats his honest daily bread,
And cools his tongue with water, than I'd be
Such base, abject, and miserable slave
As now I am this moment at thy feet,
Richer than fifty kings, and yet so poor
As to be envious of the very swine
That swill their greasy draff, and sleep in peace.”
“Drink!”;quoth Silenus. “I recall my gift!
Thy bread shall be thy bread, thy wine thy wine,
Upon condition that I touch thine ears,
And make them sprout and grow like ears of ass,
Hairy and huge—a warning evermore
To fools like thee, who quarrel with the gods,
And deem no blessing half so good as gold.”
Thy bread shall be thy bread, thy wine thy wine,
Upon condition that I touch thine ears,
And make them sprout and grow like ears of ass,
Hairy and huge—a warning evermore
To fools like thee, who quarrel with the gods,
And deem no blessing half so good as gold.”
“Give me the cup,”;said Midas; “let me drink!
I'll take the punishment—I'll bear the shame,
And bless thee for thy bounty; but I pray
Cheat me no more: I wish to drink or die.”
I'll take the punishment—I'll bear the shame,
And bless thee for thy bounty; but I pray
Cheat me no more: I wish to drink or die.”
35
He took the cup—he drank a lusty draught,
Long, lingering, luscious, every drop a joy
That poured new life through all his clamorous veins,
And knew 'twas wine. And though he felt his ears
Shoot up and stretch at every grateful gulp
Flexile and asinine, he was content.
And when Silenus vanished, with a laugh
That rang through all the wood, he sat him down
And plucked the juiciest apples from the bough,
And ate them greedily. “The gods be thanked,
Apples are apples, and my bread is bread.
Let men or women scoff, to see mine ears,
It shall not matter to my peace of mind;
I thank the gods for water, not for gold,
And bear my punishment as best I may.”
Long, lingering, luscious, every drop a joy
That poured new life through all his clamorous veins,
And knew 'twas wine. And though he felt his ears
Shoot up and stretch at every grateful gulp
Flexile and asinine, he was content.
And when Silenus vanished, with a laugh
That rang through all the wood, he sat him down
And plucked the juiciest apples from the bough,
And ate them greedily. “The gods be thanked,
Apples are apples, and my bread is bread.
Let men or women scoff, to see mine ears,
It shall not matter to my peace of mind;
I thank the gods for water, not for gold,
And bear my punishment as best I may.”
36
PROTEUS.
Alone upon the melancholy shore,
Between the ebb and flow
Rolling and surging evermore,
Sat Proteus on a jutting rock
Cushioned with tangle and sea-hair—
And listened to the moan and shock
Of crested billows, white as snow,
That flashed upon the sand-reach, smooth and bare,
Their serried armour bright,
Like mail-clad horsemen keen for fight,
And mastery of the unoffending land;
He sat, with chin supported on his hand,
And mused on mysteries dim-seen,
Even of immortal eyes—to men unknown—
The mighty riddle what the world might mean:
Silent he sat, and all alone.
Between the ebb and flow
Rolling and surging evermore,
Sat Proteus on a jutting rock
Cushioned with tangle and sea-hair—
And listened to the moan and shock
Of crested billows, white as snow,
That flashed upon the sand-reach, smooth and bare,
Their serried armour bright,
Like mail-clad horsemen keen for fight,
And mastery of the unoffending land;
He sat, with chin supported on his hand,
And mused on mysteries dim-seen,
Even of immortal eyes—to men unknown—
37
Silent he sat, and all alone.
And as he dreamed, his thoughts took bodily shape,—
Fresh, fair, and buxom on the beach,
Their fragile hands linked each in each—
All happy to escape
From buffeting and thraldom of the waves,
And twilight of their ocean caves,
The Oceanides came forth to play,
Bare-footed in the light of day,
And float their loose robes on the gale
That bulged far off the home-returning sail.
Fresh, fair, and buxom on the beach,
Their fragile hands linked each in each—
All happy to escape
From buffeting and thraldom of the waves,
And twilight of their ocean caves,
The Oceanides came forth to play,
Bare-footed in the light of day,
And float their loose robes on the gale
That bulged far off the home-returning sail.
He heard the music of their dance,
He saw their shiny feet upon the sand,
Then wearied, he dismissed them with a glance
And motion of his hand,
And summoned in their stead,
In her immortal loveliness—sea-born,
A thousand odours round her shed,
Great Aphrodite, rosier than the morn,
Richer than summer, sweeter than the spring,
Brighter than day, kinder than gods or men;
With love that held all nature in its ken,
And overflowed on every living thing.
He saw their shiny feet upon the sand,
Then wearied, he dismissed them with a glance
And motion of his hand,
And summoned in their stead,
In her immortal loveliness—sea-born,
38
Great Aphrodite, rosier than the morn,
Richer than summer, sweeter than the spring,
Brighter than day, kinder than gods or men;
With love that held all nature in its ken,
And overflowed on every living thing.
And with her came each Muse and Grace,
Radiant from Heaven—with clear cerulean eyes—
And he beheld them face to face,
And spake to them of mysteries—
Of Love, the Regent of the skies,
Lord paramount of all beneath the moon,
Whom gods obey, and men adore,
Whose praise Earth sings to sea and shore,
While all the stars repeat the eternal tune,
Love Paramount and Love for evermore.
Radiant from Heaven—with clear cerulean eyes—
And he beheld them face to face,
And spake to them of mysteries—
Of Love, the Regent of the skies,
Lord paramount of all beneath the moon,
Whom gods obey, and men adore,
Whose praise Earth sings to sea and shore,
While all the stars repeat the eternal tune,
Love Paramount and Love for evermore.
Anon he summoned by his voiceless will,
There on the sea-beach salt and chill,
Dodona's groves and odoriferous gloom,
And Tempe's vale with all its wealth of bloom,
Boeotia with its pastures green,
Areadia with its mountain screen,
Gardens and orchards, bosks and lawns,
And joyous Pan, with all his nymphs and fauns.
There on the sea-beach salt and chill,
Dodona's groves and odoriferous gloom,
And Tempe's vale with all its wealth of bloom,
39
Areadia with its mountain screen,
Gardens and orchards, bosks and lawns,
And joyous Pan, with all his nymphs and fauns.
Loud o'er the wave their laughter rang,
The wild deer gambolled, and the blithe birds sang,
Till Proteus shut his eyes and waved them off
From the denuded sands and bare sea trough;
For he had communed with the gods too long,
And his heart wearied with a yearning strong,
For converse and companionship of mind,
With erring, suffering, struggling human-kind.
The wild deer gambolled, and the blithe birds sang,
Till Proteus shut his eyes and waved them off
From the denuded sands and bare sea trough;
For he had communed with the gods too long,
And his heart wearied with a yearning strong,
For converse and companionship of mind,
With erring, suffering, struggling human-kind.
Obedient to his call
Came lovely women in their joyous youth,
Brave men, and sages who had died for Truth,
Or lived to plant its banner on the wall;
Came little children, ruddy as the rose,
Came young Ambition with its brain of fire,
Came old Ambition, withered in desire,
But fresh for vengeance on opposing foes;
Came jesters with their arrowy tongues gall-tipped,
And grave buffoons, large paunched and heavylipped,
Came kings and Pharaohs weary of their crowns,
Envious of ploughmen who could sleep,
Envious—but yet ashamed to weep
At better fortune of contented clowns;
Came beggars leaning on their staves;
Came careless, uncomplaining slaves,
And slaves in whose hot blood the slavery ran
Like maddening poison—goading all the man
To quick revolt;—came Misery, gaunt and bare,
Full of remorseful secrets;—came Despair,
Silent or querulous, or moaning low;—
Came lovers laden with deep joy or woe;
Came rich men, weary that they should endure
Evils as many as the wearier poor;
Came Youth that longed for death, and Age forlorn
That clung to life—yet grieved that it was born.
Came lovely women in their joyous youth,
Brave men, and sages who had died for Truth,
Or lived to plant its banner on the wall;
Came little children, ruddy as the rose,
Came young Ambition with its brain of fire,
Came old Ambition, withered in desire,
But fresh for vengeance on opposing foes;
40
And grave buffoons, large paunched and heavylipped,
Came kings and Pharaohs weary of their crowns,
Envious of ploughmen who could sleep,
Envious—but yet ashamed to weep
At better fortune of contented clowns;
Came beggars leaning on their staves;
Came careless, uncomplaining slaves,
And slaves in whose hot blood the slavery ran
Like maddening poison—goading all the man
To quick revolt;—came Misery, gaunt and bare,
Full of remorseful secrets;—came Despair,
Silent or querulous, or moaning low;—
Came lovers laden with deep joy or woe;
Came rich men, weary that they should endure
Evils as many as the wearier poor;
Came Youth that longed for death, and Age forlorn
That clung to life—yet grieved that it was born.
41
And Proteus saw and loved them, all and each,
Imbibing knowledge from their pain,
As trees fruition from the rain.
And all that human agony could teach,
Or human joy impart,
He studied with full mind and fuller heart,
Till he became a world, all worlds containing,
And bore the heavy burden uncomplaining,
And thought the thoughts, that throb and burn
In all the planets as they turn,
Thoughts immortal — universal — perfect as the spheres above,
Death in Life—but Life for ever—and Eternity of Love.
Imbibing knowledge from their pain,
As trees fruition from the rain.
And all that human agony could teach,
Or human joy impart,
He studied with full mind and fuller heart,
Till he became a world, all worlds containing,
And bore the heavy burden uncomplaining,
And thought the thoughts, that throb and burn
In all the planets as they turn,
Thoughts immortal — universal — perfect as the spheres above,
Death in Life—but Life for ever—and Eternity of Love.
The wondering people gathered on the shore
And watched the pageant as it rolled,
Projected from his mind, and said, “Behold
The many shapes he taketh evermore!
He is not one, but many. Let us cry
Aloud to rouse him where he sitteth dumb,
And bid him speak to us, and prophesy
Of glooms and glories of the days to come.”
And watched the pageant as it rolled,
Projected from his mind, and said, “Behold
The many shapes he taketh evermore!
He is not one, but many. Let us cry
Aloud to rouse him where he sitteth dumb,
42
Of glooms and glories of the days to come.”
But Proteus, when he saw they would intrude
Upon the full heart of his solitude,
Gathered the vagrant mists around his face,
And clad himself in cloud, and disappeared;
And when again they looked upon his place,
Watching the vapours as they curled and cleared,
They saw him not; but heard, far off, at sea,
A voice that said, “Oh, men! ye know not me,
And never can. What I may tell, I tell;—
But seek not you to pierce the inscrutable:
God's secrets are His own.”;Humbled and sad,
They went their way, while from the white sea-rim,
And all the shore, echoed a choral hymn
Of mingled grief and joy. That song sublime
Fills all true poets' souls; and shall till end of Time.
Upon the full heart of his solitude,
Gathered the vagrant mists around his face,
And clad himself in cloud, and disappeared;
And when again they looked upon his place,
Watching the vapours as they curled and cleared,
They saw him not; but heard, far off, at sea,
A voice that said, “Oh, men! ye know not me,
And never can. What I may tell, I tell;—
But seek not you to pierce the inscrutable:
God's secrets are His own.”;Humbled and sad,
They went their way, while from the white sea-rim,
And all the shore, echoed a choral hymn
Of mingled grief and joy. That song sublime
Fills all true poets' souls; and shall till end of Time.
43
BACCHUS AND EVANTHE.
In crimson glory shone the mountain crest,
The lengthening shadows pointed from the west,
'Twas summer eve in Aready the blest.
The lengthening shadows pointed from the west,
'Twas summer eve in Aready the blest.
Bronzed by the sun, with cheeks as red as wine,
Upon a leopard-skin beneath a vine,
Lay lusty Bacchus in the purple shine.
Upon a leopard-skin beneath a vine,
Lay lusty Bacchus in the purple shine.
Amid the clusters of his nut-brown hair,
Round the meridian of his forehead fair,
Circled the ivy-wreath that shepherds wear—
Round the meridian of his forehead fair,
Circled the ivy-wreath that shepherds wear—
An ivy-wreath with roses white and red,
Fresh gathered, moist with dew, their blooms unshed,
Woven amid the tendrils round his head,
Fresh gathered, moist with dew, their blooms unshed,
Woven amid the tendrils round his head,
44
By the deft fingers of a maiden sweet,
Child of his love, who, watchful at his feet,
Tended her father's couch on lowly seat.
Child of his love, who, watchful at his feet,
Tended her father's couch on lowly seat.
Lovely Evanthe! with dark eloquent eyes,
And soft cheeks, blushful as the morning skies,
And hair as black as grapes when summer dies.
And soft cheeks, blushful as the morning skies,
And hair as black as grapes when summer dies.
Upon the grass beyond him where he slept,
Frolic and free, the lithe Bacchantes lept
And danced and sang, and frantic revel kept.
Frolic and free, the lithe Bacchantes lept
And danced and sang, and frantic revel kept.
Dishevelled all, with bosoms purple-stained
By overflow of flagons they had drained,
They shrieked delirious joy, half-pleased, half-pained.
By overflow of flagons they had drained,
They shrieked delirious joy, half-pleased, half-pained.
Pan and his joyous Fauns, a roystering crew,
Hairy as barley, gambolled o'er the dew,
And raised from glade and copse the wild halloo.
Hairy as barley, gambolled o'er the dew,
And raised from glade and copse the wild halloo.
Some played the syrinx—some the bugle keen,
Or mellower flute that rippled in between;—
The bounding satyrs struck the tambourine.
Or mellower flute that rippled in between;—
The bounding satyrs struck the tambourine.
45
Heavy Silenus—greedier than the swine—
Leered on the sportive nymphs with lustful eyne,
And reeled and hiccoughed from excess of wine.
Leered on the sportive nymphs with lustful eyne,
And reeled and hiccoughed from excess of wine.
The revelry, the music, and the song
Surged up in waves o'er all the festive throng,
But Bacchus slumbered peacefully and long.
Surged up in waves o'er all the festive throng,
But Bacchus slumbered peacefully and long.
And aye his little daughter watched his face,
A star beside the moon, a breathing grace
That shed a silvery lustre o'er the place.
A star beside the moon, a breathing grace
That shed a silvery lustre o'er the place.
At length he wakened with a sudden start,
And ere his heavy eyelids flashed apart,
Knowing her there, he clasped her to his heart.
And ere his heavy eyelids flashed apart,
Knowing her there, he clasped her to his heart.
For never yet, since earthly Time began,
And wild-woods echoed to the voice of Pan,
Did hero, demi-god, or mortal man,
And wild-woods echoed to the voice of Pan,
Did hero, demi-god, or mortal man,
Or ev'n the gods themselves, love woman's child
With love so fervent, true, and undefiled,
As mighty Bacchus loved his daughter mild—
With love so fervent, true, and undefiled,
As mighty Bacchus loved his daughter mild—
46
His own Evanthe, little dark-eyed maid,
Nine summers old, in purity arrayed,
Life of his heart, that pulsed but as he bade.
Nine summers old, in purity arrayed,
Life of his heart, that pulsed but as he bade.
He took her in his arms, and kissed her lips;
Then shining forth like sun from an eclipse,
That lights the dark sea and the flashing ships,
Then shining forth like sun from an eclipse,
That lights the dark sea and the flashing ships,
He looked upon the revellers in their rout,
And heard, in all the woodland round about,
The song, the laughter, and the echoing shout.
And heard, in all the woodland round about,
The song, the laughter, and the echoing shout.
His little darling, eager to inquire,
Gazed on the godlike features of her sire,
Alight with majesty and heavenly fire,
Gazed on the godlike features of her sire,
Alight with majesty and heavenly fire,
And asked him, taking courage as she spake—
For in her heart the thought had lain awake
All the long day—a shadow on the lake
For in her heart the thought had lain awake
All the long day—a shadow on the lake
Of her serene pure mind: “My King! my Lord!
My Father! thou so great and so adored,
Tell me,”;she said, “why this unseemly horde,
My Father! thou so great and so adored,
Tell me,”;she said, “why this unseemly horde,
47
“With bestial revelry and drunken brawl,
Follow thy steps, and come without thy call,
Boisterous and reckless, and degraded all?
Follow thy steps, and come without thy call,
Boisterous and reckless, and degraded all?
“Why these Bacchantes, insolent and bold,
These rude, rough satyrs, hideous to behold,
And this Silenus, dissolute and old?
These rude, rough satyrs, hideous to behold,
And this Silenus, dissolute and old?
“Thou art all sunshine—they like storm and cloud;
Thou art all goodness, they a wicked crowd;
Why do they follow thee, and shout aloud
Thou art all goodness, they a wicked crowd;
Why do they follow thee, and shout aloud
“In honour of thy name, which they degrade?”
And Bacchus smiled: “Mine own, my little maid,
Not much thou knowest in our greenwood shade
And Bacchus smiled: “Mine own, my little maid,
Not much thou knowest in our greenwood shade
“Of wide-world wickedness and mortal woe,
Why lightnings flash, and why the tempests blow;
And sweetest! fairest! may'st thou never know!
Why lightnings flash, and why the tempests blow;
And sweetest! fairest! may'st thou never know!
“Let it suffice to learn that man, who deems
His virtues perfect, knows not how he dreams,
And that straight lines but lead him to extremes.
His virtues perfect, knows not how he dreams,
And that straight lines but lead him to extremes.
48
“His love becomes his lust, his prudence, fear,
His courage, rashness; and his pride severe,
Conceit and arrogance and scorn austere;
His courage, rashness; and his pride severe,
Conceit and arrogance and scorn austere;
“His caution, cowardice; his justice, ire;
His mercy, weakness; each uncurbed desire
A spark to burn in desolating fire.
His mercy, weakness; each uncurbed desire
A spark to burn in desolating fire.
“And I, my child, who long have taught mankind,
How to enjoy the blessings that they find
Spread o'er the world for body and for mind,
How to enjoy the blessings that they find
Spread o'er the world for body and for mind,
“I, who have taught them how to plough the field,
To tend the vines, and drink the juice they yield
For strength and joy—for stimulant and shield—
To tend the vines, and drink the juice they yield
For strength and joy—for stimulant and shield—
“Have ever found them foolish and perverse:
They know the better, but they choose the worse,
And turn my choicest blessings to a curse.
They know the better, but they choose the worse,
And turn my choicest blessings to a curse.
“They use not, but abuse the gift divine,
Degrade their manhood, and like senseless swine
Grovel and wallow and go mad with wine.
Degrade their manhood, and like senseless swine
Grovel and wallow and go mad with wine.
49
“So, when in harvest-time I show my face
In pastoral vale or busy market-place,
To teach the crowd the dignity and grace
In pastoral vale or busy market-place,
To teach the crowd the dignity and grace
“Of heavenly Temperance and healthful Use,
I bring the bestial appetites profuse,
In shape of Fauns and Satyrs running loose
I bring the bestial appetites profuse,
In shape of Fauns and Satyrs running loose
“In drunken riot; the Bacchantes wild,
And old Silenus, greedy and defiled,
Example on example heaped and piled,
And old Silenus, greedy and defiled,
Example on example heaped and piled,
“Of the deep sin and error of excess;—
The people see; and while my name they bless,
Shudder at vice and loathe its hideousness.”
The people see; and while my name they bless,
Shudder at vice and loathe its hideousness.”
50
THE VESTAL FIRE EXTINGUISHED.
Oh weep ye and lament, for woe is on us!
Unutterable woe and guilty shame;
The gods withdraw their faces from our altars:
Our high name
Is scorned and made a mockery of the nations!
The fire is quenched—the old immortal fire
That pointed skyward, pledge of our devotion
And high desire,
Hath left us for its Heavenly home,
And we in darkness roam
Round its cold ashes, cursed of gods and men,
Until by tears and blood we light it up again.
Unutterable woe and guilty shame;
The gods withdraw their faces from our altars:
Our high name
Is scorned and made a mockery of the nations!
The fire is quenched—the old immortal fire
That pointed skyward, pledge of our devotion
And high desire,
Hath left us for its Heavenly home,
And we in darkness roam
Round its cold ashes, cursed of gods and men,
Until by tears and blood we light it up again.
51
Oh weep ye and lament! The desolation
Covers the land.
No longer courage animates men's bosoms:
No longer strength abides in the right hand;
No longer love dwells in the eyes of woman,
Or virtue in the soul of priest or king,
Or hope in poor men's hearts, or children's fancies.
There is a blight on every living thing,
And shall be, till we re-illume
The light amid the gloom—
The holy, holy, ever holy flame,
Pure as the Heaven of Heavens from whence it came.
Covers the land.
No longer courage animates men's bosoms:
No longer strength abides in the right hand;
No longer love dwells in the eyes of woman,
Or virtue in the soul of priest or king,
Or hope in poor men's hearts, or children's fancies.
There is a blight on every living thing,
And shall be, till we re-illume
The light amid the gloom—
The holy, holy, ever holy flame,
Pure as the Heaven of Heavens from whence it came.
Weep and lament in anguish of contrition!
Let the unhappy maid
Whom the gods chose to bring this misery on us,
Come forth, arrayed
In her white garments, veiled from mortal vision,
To meet the doom that gods and men deeree;
And let the multitude from night to morrow
Bend the remorseful knee
In the dark temples, moaning all night long,
As the sea moaneth when the storms are strong;
And weep, and rave, and pray
That the sharp agony may pass away.
Let the unhappy maid
Whom the gods chose to bring this misery on us,
Come forth, arrayed
In her white garments, veiled from mortal vision,
To meet the doom that gods and men deeree;
And let the multitude from night to morrow
Bend the remorseful knee
52
As the sea moaneth when the storms are strong;
And weep, and rave, and pray
That the sharp agony may pass away.
Mourn and lament, upon your knees and faces!
There must be sacrifice for evil done.
Mourn and lament! Until this shame pass over
We scandalise the sun,
And are unworthy of his beams to ripen
The corn, the olive, or the vine;
Unworthy of the breath we breathe,
Or any other gift of love divine.
Kneel King and people! Kneel down lowly!
And pray for light, the holy ever holy!
There must be sacrifice for evil done.
Mourn and lament! Until this shame pass over
We scandalise the sun,
And are unworthy of his beams to ripen
The corn, the olive, or the vine;
Unworthy of the breath we breathe,
Or any other gift of love divine.
Kneel King and people! Kneel down lowly!
And pray for light, the holy ever holy!
Kneel down! kneel down! and strew your heads with ashes!
Gird sackcloth on your limbs;
And let your choral chants be turned to weeping
And penitential hymns,
Until the gods take pity on our sorrow,
And give us back in pain
The gift we scorned, or knew not how to cherish,
In the glad days that may not come again.
Gird sackcloth on your limbs;
And let your choral chants be turned to weeping
And penitential hymns,
53
And give us back in pain
The gift we scorned, or knew not how to cherish,
In the glad days that may not come again.
Light! Light! It burns! It glitters up to heaven!
The blood is shed;
The flame hath spread!
Rejoice ye people! shout for joy! Light! light! we are forgiven!
The blood is shed;
The flame hath spread!
Rejoice ye people! shout for joy! Light! light! we are forgiven!
54
CHIRON.
“Life! Life! oh give me life, thou parent Sun!
That pourest it in floods in every ray
From thy divine supernal countenance,
That I may be coeval with thyself
And look at Knowledge as I would at thee,
Undazzled, unconsumed, insatiable!
Life! Life! oh give me life, Eternal Sea!
That borest Aphrodite in thy womb,
Immortal as thyself! Oh give me Life
That I may sail upon the waves of Time
To havens of Eternity! Thou Earth!
Dear Mother Earth! be kindly to thy son,
And teach me, guide me, aid me, how to pluck
The seeds of Knowledge scattered o'er thy breast,
In weed and grass, and flower, and rind, and fruit,
In every thing that grows! I pine to learn
By patient study of the morns and noons,
By deep seclusion of the eves and nights,
By constant intercourse with thee and thine,
The mysteries of life! O trembling stars
That in the frostful winter nights infuse
Visions of beauty to the yearning soul!
Let me, with reverent eyes and bended knee,
Enter the outer porch, and catch a gleam
Of your occult, unspoken secrecies!
Life throbs eternally through all your spheres,
And one pulsation of the immensity,
One tidal flow of the incessant wave
Of such deep Ocean, would extend my span
From seventy to seven times seventy years,
And seven times those! O dread profundity
Of knowledge that mine earnest eyes would pierce—
That my immortal soul imprisoned here
Would measure in the flesh! is there no hope
That I can drop my plummet to your depths?
That I can shoot my arrow to your heights?
That I can swathe and circumscribe and bound
The wisdom that you hide? Extend my days,
My strength, my life, my soul, or let me die
One of the human, common herd and crowd,
As careless and as valueless as they!”
That pourest it in floods in every ray
From thy divine supernal countenance,
That I may be coeval with thyself
And look at Knowledge as I would at thee,
Undazzled, unconsumed, insatiable!
Life! Life! oh give me life, Eternal Sea!
That borest Aphrodite in thy womb,
Immortal as thyself! Oh give me Life
That I may sail upon the waves of Time
To havens of Eternity! Thou Earth!
Dear Mother Earth! be kindly to thy son,
And teach me, guide me, aid me, how to pluck
The seeds of Knowledge scattered o'er thy breast,
In weed and grass, and flower, and rind, and fruit,
55
By patient study of the morns and noons,
By deep seclusion of the eves and nights,
By constant intercourse with thee and thine,
The mysteries of life! O trembling stars
That in the frostful winter nights infuse
Visions of beauty to the yearning soul!
Let me, with reverent eyes and bended knee,
Enter the outer porch, and catch a gleam
Of your occult, unspoken secrecies!
Life throbs eternally through all your spheres,
And one pulsation of the immensity,
One tidal flow of the incessant wave
Of such deep Ocean, would extend my span
From seventy to seven times seventy years,
And seven times those! O dread profundity
Of knowledge that mine earnest eyes would pierce—
That my immortal soul imprisoned here
Would measure in the flesh! is there no hope
That I can drop my plummet to your depths?
That I can shoot my arrow to your heights?
56
The wisdom that you hide? Extend my days,
My strength, my life, my soul, or let me die
One of the human, common herd and crowd,
As careless and as valueless as they!”
Thus Chiron's plaint resounded on the shore,
Chiron the Centaur—Chiron, King of men—
Chiron, no monstrous birth, half man, half steed,
But godlike and Titanic—first that tamed
The wild unbridled horse, and rode his back
Firm fixed as Fate, or strong unchangeable Will—
Misnamed the Centaur by the foolish folk
Of dull Boeotia:—thus his mournful words
Commingled with the anthems of the winds,
Quivering amid the hoarse responsive boughs
Of perishing oaks, a thousand summers old;—
Thus rose it 'mid the psalm of waterfalls,
With fitful music, sadder than their own,
And still the cry was “Life! oh give me Life!
If trees may live for countless centuries,
Why shall not I? If Ocean's voice to-day
Sounds as it sounded at the birth of Time,
Why shall my voice be hushed, mine utterance quenched
To-morrow in the tomb?”
Chiron the Centaur—Chiron, King of men—
Chiron, no monstrous birth, half man, half steed,
But godlike and Titanic—first that tamed
The wild unbridled horse, and rode his back
Firm fixed as Fate, or strong unchangeable Will—
Misnamed the Centaur by the foolish folk
Of dull Boeotia:—thus his mournful words
Commingled with the anthems of the winds,
Quivering amid the hoarse responsive boughs
Of perishing oaks, a thousand summers old;—
Thus rose it 'mid the psalm of waterfalls,
With fitful music, sadder than their own,
And still the cry was “Life! oh give me Life!
If trees may live for countless centuries,
57
Sounds as it sounded at the birth of Time,
Why shall my voice be hushed, mine utterance quenched
To-morrow in the tomb?”
His prayer was heard:
The sunshine and the sun-impregnate Air
Shed life into his pores and arteries;
The Sea gave healing for the wounds of Time;
The Earth distilled its balsams for all ill
That flesh can suffer from the darts of Death,
And every tree, and herb, and bulb, and flower
Bared to his earnest eyes its inmost heart,
And said, “O Man of transitory years,
Rejuvenescence, Health and Beauty, dwell
In every outburst of the teeming spring—
In every flower that God permits to grow,
In every tender leaflet of the field;
In every dew-drop on the rose's cup—
And all are thine.”
The sunshine and the sun-impregnate Air
Shed life into his pores and arteries;
The Sea gave healing for the wounds of Time;
The Earth distilled its balsams for all ill
That flesh can suffer from the darts of Death,
And every tree, and herb, and bulb, and flower
Bared to his earnest eyes its inmost heart,
And said, “O Man of transitory years,
Rejuvenescence, Health and Beauty, dwell
In every outburst of the teeming spring—
In every flower that God permits to grow,
In every tender leaflet of the field;
In every dew-drop on the rose's cup—
And all are thine.”
58
He saw—he plucked!
He drank and ate, and felt in all his limbs
Immortal Strength and Youth! Time passed him by
And left no wrinkle on his check or brow,
No dimness in his eye, and in his step
No faltering such as curbs the sons of men,
And teaches them how humble they should be
In presence of the swift approaching doom
That blows them from the Earth, like leaf from branch.
The world was his, and all its privilege
To love, to do, to suffer, and to know;
And loving, doing, knowing, suffering much,
To rise to godlike heights, and be of gods
Equal and peer.
He drank and ate, and felt in all his limbs
Immortal Strength and Youth! Time passed him by
And left no wrinkle on his check or brow,
No dimness in his eye, and in his step
No faltering such as curbs the sons of men,
And teaches them how humble they should be
In presence of the swift approaching doom
That blows them from the Earth, like leaf from branch.
The world was his, and all its privilege
To love, to do, to suffer, and to know;
And loving, doing, knowing, suffering much,
To rise to godlike heights, and be of gods
Equal and peer.
Alas! alas for him!
He had not bargained for his youth of heart;
And that grew old. He had not thought to crave
For sweet renewal of his sympathies,
For lighting of Imagination's fire,
For flowering of Affection, ever fresh
As Earth's young daisies when the Springtime leaps
Jocund from Southern skies to Northern meads!
Alas for him, that would be overwise!
He had the body of Youth, but not the soul;
And all his knowledge, plucked from Heaven's own gate,
Served but to show him how his utmost range
Was but the long-day crawling of a snail
Over the lowest step of countless steps,
That lead to the Eternal vestibule
Of God's great Temple—dreamed of by the sage
In fitful visions of disordered sleep,
But never seen by dwellers on the Earth.
He had not bargained for his youth of heart;
And that grew old. He had not thought to crave
For sweet renewal of his sympathies,
For lighting of Imagination's fire,
For flowering of Affection, ever fresh
59
Jocund from Southern skies to Northern meads!
Alas for him, that would be overwise!
He had the body of Youth, but not the soul;
And all his knowledge, plucked from Heaven's own gate,
Served but to show him how his utmost range
Was but the long-day crawling of a snail
Over the lowest step of countless steps,
That lead to the Eternal vestibule
Of God's great Temple—dreamed of by the sage
In fitful visions of disordered sleep,
But never seen by dwellers on the Earth.
“O fool!”;he said; “O worse than mortal fool!
To drag the chain of flesh, and link thyself
To such incumbrance and imprisonment,
When at the end of short appointed Time
I might have known the freedom of the spheres,
And been the real god whose part I play
With piteous masquerade; and humbly sat
At God's own footstool; knowing what I knew
By God's permission and God's recompense!
To drag the chain of flesh, and link thyself
To such incumbrance and imprisonment,
When at the end of short appointed Time
I might have known the freedom of the spheres,
And been the real god whose part I play
With piteous masquerade; and humbly sat
60
By God's permission and God's recompense!
“Father Supreme! I supplicate for Death!
Death is Thy law;—no evil to the just,
No sorrow to the wise. I never prayed
So ardently and clamorously for Life
As now I pray for Death! Oh, let me die,
And sink into the quiet common grave
With mine earth-vesture—as the rain-drop sinks
Into the grateful bosom of the field.
My soul shall live again the life ordained
In the Soul's Universe; not prisoned here—
A wing-clipped eagle—a dark-grubbing mole—
A limpet on the rock—a barren stone
Weltering unheeded on the shore of Time.”
Death is Thy law;—no evil to the just,
No sorrow to the wise. I never prayed
So ardently and clamorously for Life
As now I pray for Death! Oh, let me die,
And sink into the quiet common grave
With mine earth-vesture—as the rain-drop sinks
Into the grateful bosom of the field.
My soul shall live again the life ordained
In the Soul's Universe; not prisoned here—
A wing-clipped eagle—a dark-grubbing mole—
A limpet on the rock—a barren stone
Weltering unheeded on the shore of Time.”
Long, long he suffered ere his prayer was heard:
Great was his crime, great was his punishment.
Great was his crime, great was his punishment.
61
DYNAMENE.
Sitting alone and sad beside the Sea,
I had a vision of Dynamene:
Dynamene and all her sisters fair
Grouped on the rocks and sand and sea-beach bare,
The fifty daughters of the Foam
Upfloating, on calm billows borne
To the warm fringes of their Ocean home;
More beautiful than burst of ruddy morn,
More tender than the flush of Summer eves,
Defter and nimbler than the light that weaves
Its fairy net-work on the wave,
When Phoebus from his cold nocturnal cave
Starts on the grateful world, until it leap
Jocund and rubicund from sleep.
Careless and happy were they each and all
Save one, dark-eyed, who held my heart in thrall,
And sat apart, self-banished from the rest—
Dynamene, as lonely and as bright
As Hesper glowing in the empurpled West,
Absorbing all the splendours of the Night.
I had a vision of Dynamene:
Dynamene and all her sisters fair
Grouped on the rocks and sand and sea-beach bare,
The fifty daughters of the Foam
Upfloating, on calm billows borne
To the warm fringes of their Ocean home;
More beautiful than burst of ruddy morn,
More tender than the flush of Summer eves,
Defter and nimbler than the light that weaves
Its fairy net-work on the wave,
When Phoebus from his cold nocturnal cave
Starts on the grateful world, until it leap
Jocund and rubicund from sleep.
62
Save one, dark-eyed, who held my heart in thrall,
And sat apart, self-banished from the rest—
Dynamene, as lonely and as bright
As Hesper glowing in the empurpled West,
Absorbing all the splendours of the Night.
“Tell me,”;I said, “what is it that they do,
These fair ones seven times seven,
Here in the light of Heaven,
Betwixt the upper and the nether blue?”
Softly she answered: “On the stormy gale
They poise or float, and track the distant sail;
Or dive, or swim, or gather gems and pearls
To deck their blue-veined arms and flaxen curls.
And when the sailor, far adrift,
Remorseful wanderer, looks forth in vain
Over the pathless sea and starless lift,
And prays to Heaven to waft him o'er the main
To his expectant loved ones back again,
They draw aside the curtain of the clouds,
Till, peeping wistfully athwart the shrouds,
He sees in Heaven's blue deep the Polar Star,
And hails the guiding light so fair and far,
And steers his certain bark toward the shore,
And vows, unwitting perjuror! to sail the seas no more.
These fair ones seven times seven,
Here in the light of Heaven,
Betwixt the upper and the nether blue?”
Softly she answered: “On the stormy gale
They poise or float, and track the distant sail;
Or dive, or swim, or gather gems and pearls
To deck their blue-veined arms and flaxen curls.
And when the sailor, far adrift,
Remorseful wanderer, looks forth in vain
Over the pathless sea and starless lift,
And prays to Heaven to waft him o'er the main
To his expectant loved ones back again,
63
Till, peeping wistfully athwart the shrouds,
He sees in Heaven's blue deep the Polar Star,
And hails the guiding light so fair and far,
And steers his certain bark toward the shore,
And vows, unwitting perjuror! to sail the seas no more.
“They tend beneath the rocking, rolling waves,
The white bare bones that Earth refuses graves;
And strew the barren ribs with pearls and gems,
Or crown the dead skulls with such diadems
As amorous monarchs, kneeling to their brides,
Would fail to purchase with a nation's gold.
And far beneath the cradle of the tides,
Where rot and fall away since days of old
The argosies of great forgotten kings,
They meditate on Chance and Time and Change,
Till, weary of the Past—rings linked in rings,
In one eternal sameness—they would range
To newer life, and then they come as now
To take such pleasure as the hours allow
Upon the melancholy beach,
And foot it merrily, each with each,
To the Sea Music men have never heard,
And never may; but sounding loud and clear
To spiritual sense, that knows nor eye, nor ear—
Lighter than song of morn or evening bird—
Deeper than organ peal, pervading Heaven
When thunder-volleys clash, and lightning-clouds are riven.”
The white bare bones that Earth refuses graves;
And strew the barren ribs with pearls and gems,
Or crown the dead skulls with such diadems
As amorous monarchs, kneeling to their brides,
Would fail to purchase with a nation's gold.
And far beneath the cradle of the tides,
Where rot and fall away since days of old
The argosies of great forgotten kings,
They meditate on Chance and Time and Change,
Till, weary of the Past—rings linked in rings,
In one eternal sameness—they would range
64
To take such pleasure as the hours allow
Upon the melancholy beach,
And foot it merrily, each with each,
To the Sea Music men have never heard,
And never may; but sounding loud and clear
To spiritual sense, that knows nor eye, nor ear—
Lighter than song of morn or evening bird—
Deeper than organ peal, pervading Heaven
When thunder-volleys clash, and lightning-clouds are riven.”
“And thou,”;I said, “who sharest not their mirth,
Fairer than restless Sea or steadfast Earth,
Why art thou sad, while they rejoice and sing,
And have no sorrow?”;“Weary task is mine,”
Replied the immortal: “Summer follows Spring,
Day Night, Night Day, in changeless round benign,
Great to the sons of men, but small and short
To us who see beyond it, through far years
Ere man was born, and History's poor report
Died on the idle interlunar spheres,
For want of tongues to tell. 'Tis mine to range
O'er mightier cycles; mine to interchange
Earth with the Ocean, Ocean with the Land,
In channels scooped by an Almighty Hand;
Mine from th' incumbent Deeps to disentomb
The torpid Continents and Isles,
Once more to bask them in the Summer's smiles,
And start to teeming life and beauty's bloom.
Fairer than restless Sea or steadfast Earth,
Why art thou sad, while they rejoice and sing,
And have no sorrow?”;“Weary task is mine,”
Replied the immortal: “Summer follows Spring,
Day Night, Night Day, in changeless round benign,
Great to the sons of men, but small and short
To us who see beyond it, through far years
65
Died on the idle interlunar spheres,
For want of tongues to tell. 'Tis mine to range
O'er mightier cycles; mine to interchange
Earth with the Ocean, Ocean with the Land,
In channels scooped by an Almighty Hand;
Mine from th' incumbent Deeps to disentomb
The torpid Continents and Isles,
Once more to bask them in the Summer's smiles,
And start to teeming life and beauty's bloom.
“Not ever lift the perishable hills
Their cloven summits to the moon;
Not ever run the mountain rills
The selfsame course, or sing the same glad tune;
Not ever sleeps the unprolifie pole
In chains of adamantine ice;
Not ever through their groves of spice
And tangled woods the tropic rivers roll;
For Fate is just, and every rood of Earth,
In all her amplitude of girth,
Hath its appointed time beneath the Sun,
And passes north ward as the Eons run.
Their cloven summits to the moon;
Not ever run the mountain rills
The selfsame course, or sing the same glad tune;
Not ever sleeps the unprolifie pole
In chains of adamantine ice;
Not ever through their groves of spice
And tangled woods the tropic rivers roll;
66
In all her amplitude of girth,
Hath its appointed time beneath the Sun,
And passes north ward as the Eons run.
“If thou couldst see a thousand fathoms down
Upon the tideless pillow of the Deep,
As I can see, and know mine ancient lore,
Thou wouldst behold, 'mid rock and shingle brown,
The shapeless wreck of temple, tower, and town;
The dust of palaces and fanes,
Of cities of the hills and plains.
The bones of Empires, sleeping their last sleep,
Their names as dead as if they never bore
Name or dominion:—in whose ruins lie
The lost arcana of humanity,
The perished arts, the sciences forgot,
That flourished in the still-recurring Past
As hopefully as now, and rot, and rot,
And die, and die, until the Future cast
Their ghosts into the dreams of Sages,
Who re-discover them in after ages.
Upon the tideless pillow of the Deep,
As I can see, and know mine ancient lore,
Thou wouldst behold, 'mid rock and shingle brown,
The shapeless wreck of temple, tower, and town;
The dust of palaces and fanes,
Of cities of the hills and plains.
The bones of Empires, sleeping their last sleep,
Their names as dead as if they never bore
Name or dominion:—in whose ruins lie
The lost arcana of humanity,
The perished arts, the sciences forgot,
That flourished in the still-recurring Past
As hopefully as now, and rot, and rot,
And die, and die, until the Future cast
67
Who re-discover them in after ages.
“Not ever trod men's feet the soil of Rome—
Long ere its name was breathed of mortal lips,
The sea washed over it in stormy foam;
And where the Atlantic whirls the laden ships
Great rivers ran, and gorgeous cities stood
Upon the margin of the flood,
And men made haste to sin and gather gold
With pains and sorrows manifold,
And pour it at the feet of King and Lord,
That led them captive, and would be adored
With mighty tribute, if adored at all,
And kept their hands at work, their necks in thrall.
And where to-day the fishes spawn,
Ten times ten thousand years ago
Contending hosts for battle drawn
Made crimson with their blood the winter snow,
And were as mad in their appointed hour,
As fools of yesterday that rage and bleed,
And slay their fellow-fools, for greed
Of wicked and insatiable power.
Long ere its name was breathed of mortal lips,
The sea washed over it in stormy foam;
And where the Atlantic whirls the laden ships
Great rivers ran, and gorgeous cities stood
Upon the margin of the flood,
And men made haste to sin and gather gold
With pains and sorrows manifold,
And pour it at the feet of King and Lord,
That led them captive, and would be adored
With mighty tribute, if adored at all,
And kept their hands at work, their necks in thrall.
And where to-day the fishes spawn,
Ten times ten thousand years ago
Contending hosts for battle drawn
Made crimson with their blood the winter snow,
And were as mad in their appointed hour,
As fools of yesterday that rage and bleed,
68
Of wicked and insatiable power.
“All changes. Earth and Sea
Permute eternally.
'Tis mine to follow my maternal wave,
Although it lead me o'er an Empire's grave.
And 'tis my privilege to sigh,
As much as thine, O man of thoughtful heart!
Who, when the Winter creeps upon the sky,
Grievest for Summer blossoms that depart!
My flowers are Empires! Lo! they pass away,
And lo! new Empires bloom in God's eternal Day!”
Permute eternally.
'Tis mine to follow my maternal wave,
Although it lead me o'er an Empire's grave.
And 'tis my privilege to sigh,
As much as thine, O man of thoughtful heart!
Who, when the Winter creeps upon the sky,
Grievest for Summer blossoms that depart!
My flowers are Empires! Lo! they pass away,
And lo! new Empires bloom in God's eternal Day!”
69
SISYPHUS.
Ever and evermore
Upon the steep life-shore
Of Death's dark main,
Bare to the bitter skies,
His mournful task he plies
In vain, in vain!
Upon the steep life-shore
Of Death's dark main,
Bare to the bitter skies,
His mournful task he plies
In vain, in vain!
Sometimes he looks to Heaven
And asks to be forgiven
The grievous pain.
The stars look sadly down,
The cold sun seems to frown—
In vain, in vain!
And asks to be forgiven
The grievous pain.
The stars look sadly down,
The cold sun seems to frown—
In vain, in vain!
70
But kindly mother Earth,
Remembering his birth,
Doth not disdain
To sympathise with him,
So worn of heart and limb;
In vain, in vain!
Remembering his birth,
Doth not disdain
To sympathise with him,
So worn of heart and limb;
In vain, in vain!
Is not his fate her own?
The rolling toilsome stone
Rolled back again?
Are not her children's woes
The very same he knows?—
In vain, in vain!
The rolling toilsome stone
Rolled back again?
Are not her children's woes
The very same he knows?—
In vain, in vain!
Do not all Earth and Sea
Repeat eternally
Th' unvarying strain?
The old and sad lament
With human voices blent,
In vain, in vain!
Repeat eternally
Th' unvarying strain?
The old and sad lament
With human voices blent,
In vain, in vain!
71
Through the green forest arch
The wild winds in their march
Sigh and complain;
The torrent on the hill
Moans to the midnight chill,
In vain, in vain!
The wild winds in their march
Sigh and complain;
The torrent on the hill
Moans to the midnight chill,
In vain, in vain!
The hoarse monotonous waves
Attune from all their caves,
Thro' storm and rain,
The melancholy cry,
To listening Earth and sky,
In vain, in vain!
Attune from all their caves,
Thro' storm and rain,
The melancholy cry,
To listening Earth and sky,
In vain, in vain!
Love mourns its early dead;
Hope its illusions fled,
Or rudely slain;
And Wealth and Power prolong
The same, th' eternal song,
In vain, in vain!
Hope its illusions fled,
Or rudely slain;
And Wealth and Power prolong
The same, th' eternal song,
In vain, in vain!
72
Toil, Sisyphus, toil on!
Thou'rt many, though but one!
Toil heart and brain!
One—but the type of all
Rolling the dreadful ball,
In vain! in vain!
Thou'rt many, though but one!
Toil heart and brain!
One—but the type of all
Rolling the dreadful ball,
In vain! in vain!
73
MOMUS.
Momus, the youngest son of Erebus,
Brother of Night and Day, the friend of Man,
Knelt lowly at Apollo's feet to crave
Protection from the gods, that loved him once
But now pursued him with revengeful hate.
Brother of Night and Day, the friend of Man,
Knelt lowly at Apollo's feet to crave
Protection from the gods, that loved him once
But now pursued him with revengeful hate.
Apollo heard, and with a gracious hand
Upraised him from the ground, as king might king.
“What hast thou done,”;he said, “that thus the gods
Clamour against thee with incessant tongue,
And bear their plaints to the Eternal Throne?
Tell me thy fault, or if not fault—offence,
That I may stand betwixt their wrath and thee.”
Upraised him from the ground, as king might king.
“What hast thou done,”;he said, “that thus the gods
Clamour against thee with incessant tongue,
And bear their plaints to the Eternal Throne?
Tell me thy fault, or if not fault—offence,
That I may stand betwixt their wrath and thee.”
74
As the dark sea reflects the morning light,
In myriad smiles upon its every wave,
So the sad face of Momus flushed with joy
As he replied: “I've told the gods the truth,
And shown them what they are, nor more nor less;
Truth without malice, truth with jesting tongue,
Truth without gall, for merriment in heaven.
And if I laugh, and feel no bitterness,
Am I not Lord of Laughter, even as Thou
Art Lord of Light? Fate cleaves my way, like thine,
And I must laugh as Ares must destroy,
And Aphrodite love, and Hera frown,
And Dionysus quaff the juice of grape.
Why should the gods forget themselves like men,
And for an arrowy word that draws no blood,
And makes no puncture in immortal flesh,
Implore the lightnings on my careless head,
And strive to hurl me hopeless out of Heaven?”
In myriad smiles upon its every wave,
So the sad face of Momus flushed with joy
As he replied: “I've told the gods the truth,
And shown them what they are, nor more nor less;
Truth without malice, truth with jesting tongue,
Truth without gall, for merriment in heaven.
And if I laugh, and feel no bitterness,
Am I not Lord of Laughter, even as Thou
Art Lord of Light? Fate cleaves my way, like thine,
And I must laugh as Ares must destroy,
And Aphrodite love, and Hera frown,
And Dionysus quaff the juice of grape.
Why should the gods forget themselves like men,
And for an arrowy word that draws no blood,
And makes no puncture in immortal flesh,
Implore the lightnings on my careless head,
And strive to hurl me hopeless out of Heaven?”
Apollo led him to the assembled gods,
Defiant, half rejoicing, half afraid,
And would have soothed their anger by fair words,
But that the storm of passion, breaking loose,
O'erflowed its bounds among the goddesses,
Who would have slain him, had their hate the power,
But that they knew his immortality
Coeval with their own. All spake at once,
For all imagined or invented wrong;
And each had fed the other's misery
By loose report and spiteful surplusage,
Till Aphrodite, red and white by turns,
As flowed or ebbed the billows of her rage,
Shook from her passionate eyes the lightning flash,
And from her beauteous lips the venomous words,
That proved she had been scorned; and stepping forth
In the full lustre of her loveliness,
Like Cynthia seen through storm of driving rain,
Spake for the rest, with short sharp utterance.
“He hath a slanderous and malignant tongue!
His looks are poison! He defames the gods,
Blasphemes, and lies, and makes a hell of Heaven!”
Defiant, half rejoicing, half afraid,
75
But that the storm of passion, breaking loose,
O'erflowed its bounds among the goddesses,
Who would have slain him, had their hate the power,
But that they knew his immortality
Coeval with their own. All spake at once,
For all imagined or invented wrong;
And each had fed the other's misery
By loose report and spiteful surplusage,
Till Aphrodite, red and white by turns,
As flowed or ebbed the billows of her rage,
Shook from her passionate eyes the lightning flash,
And from her beauteous lips the venomous words,
That proved she had been scorned; and stepping forth
In the full lustre of her loveliness,
Like Cynthia seen through storm of driving rain,
Spake for the rest, with short sharp utterance.
“He hath a slanderous and malignant tongue!
His looks are poison! He defames the gods,
Blasphemes, and lies, and makes a hell of Heaven!”
76
Said Momus, “Did I e'er blaspheme thy name?
Said I thou wert not fair? If so, I lied,
And will do penance. If I said, woe's me!
That thou wert chaste, why then I lied again,
And court the doom decreed, whate'er it be!”
“Why sleep the thunderbolts? Is Justice dead?
Thou, Ares, if thou love me, smite him dumb!”
Said Aphrodite, all her lovely frame
Convulsed and quivering. Pallas touched her hand—
Pallas, serene and never to be moved
By words of passion from the calm of soul,
In which her wisdom centred like a star
In the blue depths of an unfathomed sky—
And said: “Be still, ye over-angry tongues,
While I unfold his jibes and mockeries
Against the awful sanctities of Heaven—
Against the Truth itself. He said of me
That I was cold, pedantic, hard of heart,
That all my wisdom was not worth a song
Sung by a Bacchanal on festal night.
He said of Aphrodite, queen of queens,
The loveliest birth and master-piece of Time,
That he forgave the number of her loves,
Many as billows on the rolling sea,
But that she had a footfall ponderous
As that of ox which treadeth out the corn!
He said of Ares, in his pomp of arms,
That he was brutal, cruel, lapping blood
As dogs lap water; that he filled the earth
With murder, rapine, ruin, and revenge,
And drove the nations frantic with the blast
Of his war-trumpet, flaring blood and death.
He said of great Diana, huntress born,
That fond Endymion woo'd her smile in vain,
And languished hopeless; not because 'twas sin
To stoop from Heaven to share a mortal's love,
But for the reason, paramount as Fate,
That love required a heart, and she had none.
He said of Dionysus that his wine
Maddened the brain and gladdened not the soul;
That as Silenus was, would Bacchus be—
The slave of lust and carnal appetite!
He said of Hermes, that he was a spy
More than a messenger; and that the god,
The foolish goddess, or the credulous nymph,
Who trusted him with secrets, made them known
To all the babbling company of Heaven.”
Said I thou wert not fair? If so, I lied,
And will do penance. If I said, woe's me!
That thou wert chaste, why then I lied again,
And court the doom decreed, whate'er it be!”
“Why sleep the thunderbolts? Is Justice dead?
Thou, Ares, if thou love me, smite him dumb!”
Said Aphrodite, all her lovely frame
Convulsed and quivering. Pallas touched her hand—
Pallas, serene and never to be moved
By words of passion from the calm of soul,
In which her wisdom centred like a star
In the blue depths of an unfathomed sky—
And said: “Be still, ye over-angry tongues,
While I unfold his jibes and mockeries
Against the awful sanctities of Heaven—
Against the Truth itself. He said of me
That I was cold, pedantic, hard of heart,
That all my wisdom was not worth a song
Sung by a Bacchanal on festal night.
He said of Aphrodite, queen of queens,
77
That he forgave the number of her loves,
Many as billows on the rolling sea,
But that she had a footfall ponderous
As that of ox which treadeth out the corn!
He said of Ares, in his pomp of arms,
That he was brutal, cruel, lapping blood
As dogs lap water; that he filled the earth
With murder, rapine, ruin, and revenge,
And drove the nations frantic with the blast
Of his war-trumpet, flaring blood and death.
He said of great Diana, huntress born,
That fond Endymion woo'd her smile in vain,
And languished hopeless; not because 'twas sin
To stoop from Heaven to share a mortal's love,
But for the reason, paramount as Fate,
That love required a heart, and she had none.
He said of Dionysus that his wine
Maddened the brain and gladdened not the soul;
That as Silenus was, would Bacchus be—
The slave of lust and carnal appetite!
78
More than a messenger; and that the god,
The foolish goddess, or the credulous nymph,
Who trusted him with secrets, made them known
To all the babbling company of Heaven.”
Apollo smiled. “And is this all,”;he said,
“That makes ye rage like children of the Earth,
Silly and frivolous, at speech so vain?”
“Not so,”;replied the goddess, looking round
Triumphant on the crowd; “He speaks of Thee!
He owns thou art the Lord of Life and Light,
God of the gods, whose glory shines supreme,
Absorbing ours as Day absorbs the Night:
But oft proclaims, with jesting words profane,
That all thine odes and idyls, songs and hymns,
Made on the earth to please the sons of men,
When dwelling on the slopes of Arcady
And tending sheep, were execrable verse,
Too bad for gods or men!”
“That makes ye rage like children of the Earth,
Silly and frivolous, at speech so vain?”
“Not so,”;replied the goddess, looking round
Triumphant on the crowd; “He speaks of Thee!
He owns thou art the Lord of Life and Light,
God of the gods, whose glory shines supreme,
Absorbing ours as Day absorbs the Night:
But oft proclaims, with jesting words profane,
That all thine odes and idyls, songs and hymns,
Made on the earth to please the sons of men,
When dwelling on the slopes of Arcady
And tending sheep, were execrable verse,
Too bad for gods or men!”
79
“And is this so?”
Apollo asked, his keen eyes flashing fire.
And then, relapsing suddenly to calm,
That dwelt but on his face, he turned aside
And spake to Momus. “Get thee gone to Earth!
Thy wit offends the gods! Thy words are lies!
I have been banished and have herded sheep,
And gone through drudgeries, and suffered wrong:
Do thou the same. Mankind has need of thee.
Show them their faults; jest, laugh, and speak the truth,
And make them better with thy pleasantries—
The gods require thee not!”
Apollo asked, his keen eyes flashing fire.
And then, relapsing suddenly to calm,
That dwelt but on his face, he turned aside
And spake to Momus. “Get thee gone to Earth!
Thy wit offends the gods! Thy words are lies!
I have been banished and have herded sheep,
And gone through drudgeries, and suffered wrong:
Do thou the same. Mankind has need of thee.
Show them their faults; jest, laugh, and speak the truth,
And make them better with thy pleasantries—
The gods require thee not!”
So Momus fell
Unpitied to the Earth. The Earth was glad
To see his sock, his buskin, and his mask,
And gave him welcome. Here he still abides,
And sports and laughs, beloved of kings and crowds—
Their guide, their teacher, comforter and friend.
Unpitied to the Earth. The Earth was glad
To see his sock, his buskin, and his mask,
And gave him welcome. Here he still abides,
And sports and laughs, beloved of kings and crowds—
Their guide, their teacher, comforter and friend.
80
IPHIANASSA IN DODONA.
Away! freed soul, away!
And to the body linked
By fine invisible chord
Stretching from Earth to Heaven,
Mount through the circling air
Up to the starry roof
Where stands the Eternal Throne!
And to the body linked
By fine invisible chord
Stretching from Earth to Heaven,
Mount through the circling air
Up to the starry roof
Where stands the Eternal Throne!
Away! freed soul, away!
The world is but a grief,
Impediment, and pain!
Shake off the heavy load,
And rustle from thy wing
Earth and its vanities,
Time and its balances,
Space and its nothingness,
And soar! soar! soar!
Up to the azure floor,
There to chant prophetic anthems, free for evermore.
The world is but a grief,
Impediment, and pain!
Shake off the heavy load,
And rustle from thy wing
Earth and its vanities,
81
Space and its nothingness,
And soar! soar! soar!
Up to the azure floor,
There to chant prophetic anthems, free for evermore.
Behold! the Earth-born sleeps,
The Heaven-born seeks its source;
The mortal eyes are dim,
Th' immortal sight grows clear;
The human tongue, that spoke
Of nought but human cares,
And little foolish joys,
And vanities inane,
Receives the gift divine,
To speak the speech of God.
Hush, rustling robe! hush, breath!
Hear what the Spirit saith:
The mysteries, and prophecies, the things of Life and Death.
The Heaven-born seeks its source;
The mortal eyes are dim,
Th' immortal sight grows clear;
The human tongue, that spoke
Of nought but human cares,
And little foolish joys,
And vanities inane,
Receives the gift divine,
To speak the speech of God.
Hush, rustling robe! hush, breath!
Hear what the Spirit saith:
The mysteries, and prophecies, the things of Life and Death.
82
“Behold, a vision of the days to be,
Curtained in agony and gloom and terror;
The clash of Truth with ever desperate Error—
Error, a wide, unknown, and stormy sea;
And Truth, a little white-sailed bark,
Gleaming and glancing in the dark,
The wild winds raging o'er it,
The deep depths yawning under,
Defiant of the waves to drown,
Or rocks to rend asunder.
Curtained in agony and gloom and terror;
The clash of Truth with ever desperate Error—
Error, a wide, unknown, and stormy sea;
And Truth, a little white-sailed bark,
Gleaming and glancing in the dark,
The wild winds raging o'er it,
The deep depths yawning under,
Defiant of the waves to drown,
Or rocks to rend asunder.
“Behold, a vision of the days to be!—
The angry shock of javelin and sword,
The groan of Death, the shout of Victory,
And red rills purling o'er the trampled sward;
And then a low, long, melancholy sound,
As of commotion under ground,
Approaching nearer, ever nearer,
Till all the cities of the plain
Quake in their temples, towers, and palaces,
And fall to Earth in stony rain,
And Empire leaves them, leaves them, leaves them,
Never to return again.
The angry shock of javelin and sword,
The groan of Death, the shout of Victory,
And red rills purling o'er the trampled sward;
And then a low, long, melancholy sound,
As of commotion under ground,
Approaching nearer, ever nearer,
Till all the cities of the plain
83
And fall to Earth in stony rain,
And Empire leaves them, leaves them, leaves them,
Never to return again.
“Behold, a vision of the days to be!
Behold the God, the woman's Child,
So patient and so undefiled,
Led bleeding from the judgment-seat,
And nailed upon the shameful tree!
Blush, outraged Heaven! weep, Earth! for at His feet
The kingdoms of the world must fall;
And He, and every Truth he taught,
Shall rule—the Lords of Life and Thought—
Triumphant over all!
Behold the God, the woman's Child,
So patient and so undefiled,
Led bleeding from the judgment-seat,
And nailed upon the shameful tree!
Blush, outraged Heaven! weep, Earth! for at His feet
The kingdoms of the world must fall;
And He, and every Truth he taught,
Shall rule—the Lords of Life and Thought—
Triumphant over all!
“Behold, a vision of the days to be!—
Cruel and eager of dominion,
The mighty Eagle lies with bleeding pinion,
And shrieks in the death-agony,
That no one pities—and that no one can—
Not Fate herself, nor god, nor man.
Behold the ravens gathering ere he dies,
Pitiless war to pitiless foe delivering,
To dig their beaks into his closing eyes,
And rend his heart, to share it out, still quivering.
Cruel and eager of dominion,
The mighty Eagle lies with bleeding pinion,
And shrieks in the death-agony,
84
Not Fate herself, nor god, nor man.
Behold the ravens gathering ere he dies,
Pitiless war to pitiless foe delivering,
To dig their beaks into his closing eyes,
And rend his heart, to share it out, still quivering.
“Behold, a vision of the days to be!—
A pilgrim preaching in the market-place,
Moving men's hearts as tempests move the sea,
And with the madness of his eloquent face
Making them mad.—I hear their frantic shout,
With terrible words unknown.—I see the rout,
Mail-clad and armed with spear and lance,
Burst like as a pent-up torrent, and advance
To guard a Sepulchre and Holy Hill,
Surging and roaring o'er the Eastern lands—
Murder and rapine in their hands—
Bearing a book to save, a sword to kill.
A pilgrim preaching in the market-place,
Moving men's hearts as tempests move the sea,
And with the madness of his eloquent face
Making them mad.—I hear their frantic shout,
With terrible words unknown.—I see the rout,
Mail-clad and armed with spear and lance,
Burst like as a pent-up torrent, and advance
To guard a Sepulchre and Holy Hill,
Surging and roaring o'er the Eastern lands—
Murder and rapine in their hands—
Bearing a book to save, a sword to kill.
85
“Behold, a vision of the days to be!—
A lonely ship upon a lonely sea,
Sailing forlorn, upon forlornest quest,
To seize the secrets of the West,
And wrench the bolted doors of worlds unknown—
The due completion of the Zone.
He, chief of men, who leads the mutinous host—
Forlorn, and most forlorn—
Laments the hour that he was born,
And strains his eyes towards the unseen coast.
Go, find it, mariner! nor furl thy sail
Till the spice odours of the land come laden on the gale.
A lonely ship upon a lonely sea,
Sailing forlorn, upon forlornest quest,
To seize the secrets of the West,
And wrench the bolted doors of worlds unknown—
The due completion of the Zone.
He, chief of men, who leads the mutinous host—
Forlorn, and most forlorn—
Laments the hour that he was born,
And strains his eyes towards the unseen coast.
Go, find it, mariner! nor furl thy sail
Till the spice odours of the land come laden on the gale.
“My wearied eyes grow dim: I cannot see,
Amid the gathering gloom of days to be,
Aught save the lightning flashing o'er dark skies;
But I can hear faint shrieks and piteous cries,
And loud tumultuous roar,
Rolling and surging evermore.
And 'mid the fitful pauses of the storm
I hear a voice—I see a form—
The form of one who bears a book,
The voice of one who whispers, ‘Look!
Here is the path of Truth and Right;
Here is the Law of Life and Light!’
The whispered words sound ever faint and low—
But Truth shall reign. Woe to the nations, woe!”
Amid the gathering gloom of days to be,
Aught save the lightning flashing o'er dark skies;
But I can hear faint shrieks and piteous cries,
And loud tumultuous roar,
Rolling and surging evermore.
86
I hear a voice—I see a form—
The form of one who bears a book,
The voice of one who whispers, ‘Look!
Here is the path of Truth and Right;
Here is the Law of Life and Light!’
The whispered words sound ever faint and low—
But Truth shall reign. Woe to the nations, woe!”
87
THE PRAYER OF THE PRIEST OF ISIS.
“All that hath been, is, or ever shall be. No
mortal hath ever lifted my veil.”—
Inscription
over the Temple of Isis.
Merciful Mother Isis! take me back into thy bosom!
Take me back! oh take me back! I have wandered from thee long;
I have strayed in doubt and sorrow through a wilderness of darkness,
Ever searching for the right, but for ever going wrong.
Take me back! oh take me back! repentant and heart-humbled,
To the high embattled fortress of thy love that may not fail,
For I'm weary, very weary, and I long to rest my spirit
In the shadow of the glory of thy never-lifted veil.
Take me back! oh take me back! I have wandered from thee long;
I have strayed in doubt and sorrow through a wilderness of darkness,
Ever searching for the right, but for ever going wrong.
Take me back! oh take me back! repentant and heart-humbled,
To the high embattled fortress of thy love that may not fail,
88
In the shadow of the glory of thy never-lifted veil.
“All that hath been; all that is; or ever shall be.”
The words conveyed no meaning to a soul so rash as mine,
That would pierce to the forbidden and soar to the Eternal,
And ravish all the treasures that are locked within the shrine.
I have erred; and I have suffered! Take me back, O gracious Isis!
Me humbled, me remorseful, me conscious of my sin,
To slumber free of heart in the gardens of thy Temple,
But never more to tempt the blinding Light within.
I longed, I pined for knowledge, as the Desert pines for moisture:
It came, but only brought me a harvest of despair,
To find I was a captive in the dungeons of the Senses,
And could not pierce beyond them to the fresh, rejoicing air.
I saw the skies above me—with all their cloud and glory—
Long, long my spirit fretted at the thraldom and the pain;
Like the sad imprisoned eagle, that beholds the purple mountain,
But may not hope to reach it for the torture of the chain.
The words conveyed no meaning to a soul so rash as mine,
That would pierce to the forbidden and soar to the Eternal,
And ravish all the treasures that are locked within the shrine.
I have erred; and I have suffered! Take me back, O gracious Isis!
Me humbled, me remorseful, me conscious of my sin,
To slumber free of heart in the gardens of thy Temple,
But never more to tempt the blinding Light within.
89
It came, but only brought me a harvest of despair,
To find I was a captive in the dungeons of the Senses,
And could not pierce beyond them to the fresh, rejoicing air.
I saw the skies above me—with all their cloud and glory—
Long, long my spirit fretted at the thraldom and the pain;
Like the sad imprisoned eagle, that beholds the purple mountain,
But may not hope to reach it for the torture of the chain.
Mankind—their joys and sorrows, their dreams and aspirations—
Grew little in my sight as the grasses of the lea,
Little as the rain-drops that plash into the river,
Little as the pebble in the deep Eternal Sea!
I thought I was immortal, and when I strove to prove it,
I found all reason useless to show that Life or Death
Was aught but change of fashion, or that my soul was other
Than a rustling 'mid the branches, or a drawing of the breath;—
Grew little in my sight as the grasses of the lea,
Little as the rain-drops that plash into the river,
Little as the pebble in the deep Eternal Sea!
90
I found all reason useless to show that Life or Death
Was aught but change of fashion, or that my soul was other
Than a rustling 'mid the branches, or a drawing of the breath;—
To show that Life immortal, to human pride so precious,
Was not alike the essence of all that live and move,
And all that live and move not:—of the bluebell in the meadow,
Of the flame that is extinguished, of the green leaf in the grove,
Of the dog that licks my hand and is happy in my presence,
Of the earth on which I tread, of the waves that rush and roll,
Or that matter, spirit, light, are not alike eternal,
The vesture of the Almighty! the body of the soul!
My heart—my brain—my spirit grew weary of inquiry,
And words deprived of value prefigured things no more:
Evil and Good were fused: there was nor Great nor Little,
Nor any Up nor Down, nor Future nor Before,
Nor any Past or Present—nor Anything but Nothing—
One calm eternal circle, in which the shard-born fly,
That sports amid the sunshine from dawning to the twilight,
Was quite as good and lovely and God-esteemed as I.
Was not alike the essence of all that live and move,
And all that live and move not:—of the bluebell in the meadow,
Of the flame that is extinguished, of the green leaf in the grove,
Of the dog that licks my hand and is happy in my presence,
Of the earth on which I tread, of the waves that rush and roll,
Or that matter, spirit, light, are not alike eternal,
The vesture of the Almighty! the body of the soul!
91
And words deprived of value prefigured things no more:
Evil and Good were fused: there was nor Great nor Little,
Nor any Up nor Down, nor Future nor Before,
Nor any Past or Present—nor Anything but Nothing—
One calm eternal circle, in which the shard-born fly,
That sports amid the sunshine from dawning to the twilight,
Was quite as good and lovely and God-esteemed as I.
If I had plan and passion—so had the bee and beaver;
If I lived out my life—so lived the midge its term;
If I could see before me as far as sense could lead me—
So also could the maggot, the emmet, and the worm.
If these were held in bondage, and could not over-pass it—
What better or what nobler, except in my degree,
Was I, a little insect upon the Earth's great forehead,
That wandered in the furrows, and thought that it was free?
If I lived out my life—so lived the midge its term;
If I could see before me as far as sense could lead me—
So also could the maggot, the emmet, and the worm.
92
What better or what nobler, except in my degree,
Was I, a little insect upon the Earth's great forehead,
That wandered in the furrows, and thought that it was free?
And now, all gracious Isis! lest madness overtake me,
Receive me back a truant, repentant that he strayed;
Who learned in sin and sorrow that Knowledge, at its noblest,
Is Ignorance extended—the gleaming of a shade.
Take me back! oh take me back!—undeceived—with childish wisdom;
And in the Peace of Faith let me sink into my rest,
As happy at thy footstool, adoring and confiding,
As a ripple in the sunshine, or an infant at the breast.
Receive me back a truant, repentant that he strayed;
Who learned in sin and sorrow that Knowledge, at its noblest,
Is Ignorance extended—the gleaming of a shade.
Take me back! oh take me back!—undeceived—with childish wisdom;
And in the Peace of Faith let me sink into my rest,
As happy at thy footstool, adoring and confiding,
As a ripple in the sunshine, or an infant at the breast.
93
IARCHUS AND HIS RINGS.
The clamorous people throng about my porch
To purchase rings, which they believe I weld
In holy fire, and steep in essences,
And permeate with virtuous healing powers
Known but to gods in Heaven, and me on Earth.
I cannot cure them of their ignorance,
But twine it into Knowledge of mine own
For their behoof.—I smile, and give them rings
And good advice. Th' advice restores the sick
If duly followed; but the rings alone
Receive the praises of the multitude,
That loves to be deceived, adores a lie,
Doats on the incredible, and scorns the truth.
To purchase rings, which they believe I weld
In holy fire, and steep in essences,
And permeate with virtuous healing powers
Known but to gods in Heaven, and me on Earth.
I cannot cure them of their ignorance,
But twine it into Knowledge of mine own
For their behoof.—I smile, and give them rings
And good advice. Th' advice restores the sick
If duly followed; but the rings alone
Receive the praises of the multitude,
That loves to be deceived, adores a lie,
Doats on the incredible, and scorns the truth.
94
But you, my sons, know better. Lo! the rings,
The five gold rings, that worn with trusting faith,
Preserve the freshness and the flower of Youth
Better than balsam or medicament
That Chiron ever plucked, or Hermes knew!
Three for the left hand for the body's health,
Two for the right, for healing of the soul;—
Learn ye their attributes and faculties,
And teach them to the crowd; so shall ye be,
As I have been, the ministers of Hope,
The kind physicians, the unfailing friends,
Of wayworn men who've missed the road to health
And withered ere their time, like smutted corn.
The five gold rings, that worn with trusting faith,
Preserve the freshness and the flower of Youth
Better than balsam or medicament
That Chiron ever plucked, or Hermes knew!
Three for the left hand for the body's health,
Two for the right, for healing of the soul;—
Learn ye their attributes and faculties,
And teach them to the crowd; so shall ye be,
As I have been, the ministers of Hope,
The kind physicians, the unfailing friends,
Of wayworn men who've missed the road to health
And withered ere their time, like smutted corn.
Who wears the first, must keep his body pure,
From toe to crown, by daily dalliance
With cleansing waters, Heaven's most precious gift,
A duty and a luxury both in one.
Who wears the second must avoid excess
In every appetite: in food and drink,
In passion, in desire, in toil, in sleep.
Who wears the third must train himself to use
All faculties the bounteous gods bestow:
Must teach his eyes to see, his ears to hear,
His hands to toil, his feet to run and leap,
His lungs to breathe the invigorating air;
Must train his head to think, his heart to feel,
And exercise each power of life and limb
To full efficiency, nor overstretch
Even by a hair the tension of the string,
Lest it should jar and snap. Who wears the three
Shall be a perfect man, except in soul:
A physical noble—safe from all but Time,
And accident, and chastening of the gods.
From toe to crown, by daily dalliance
With cleansing waters, Heaven's most precious gift,
A duty and a luxury both in one.
Who wears the second must avoid excess
In every appetite: in food and drink,
In passion, in desire, in toil, in sleep.
95
All faculties the bounteous gods bestow:
Must teach his eyes to see, his ears to hear,
His hands to toil, his feet to run and leap,
His lungs to breathe the invigorating air;
Must train his head to think, his heart to feel,
And exercise each power of life and limb
To full efficiency, nor overstretch
Even by a hair the tension of the string,
Lest it should jar and snap. Who wears the three
Shall be a perfect man, except in soul:
A physical noble—safe from all but Time,
And accident, and chastening of the gods.
But for the mental health and purity
These not suffice. The right hand rings must aid
The perfect work, and crown the King of men.
Who wears the first must love all human kind,
And feed his spirit with all charities
And chaste affections; must be faithful friend
And joyous comrade; must be loving sire
And tender husband; must with filial care
Cherish the old, the suffering, and the poor;
And so comport himself, that men shall say,
In evil times when griefs oppress the state,
This is the model of a citizen,
Whose hand shall aid or guide the Commonwealth;
Whose patriotic heart and fruitful brain
Shall goad to action and inspire success.
Who wears the second must with humble heart
And fervent faith commend himself to God—
God of all gods, Creator of the world,
Who gave the Universe its shape and law,
And makes obedience its own recompense,
Crime its own penalty, and needs no praise
Of idle words, being most glorified
By Labour, and submission to His laws,
The melodies and harmonies of Time,
And choral anthem of Eternity.
These not suffice. The right hand rings must aid
The perfect work, and crown the King of men.
Who wears the first must love all human kind,
And feed his spirit with all charities
And chaste affections; must be faithful friend
And joyous comrade; must be loving sire
96
Cherish the old, the suffering, and the poor;
And so comport himself, that men shall say,
In evil times when griefs oppress the state,
This is the model of a citizen,
Whose hand shall aid or guide the Commonwealth;
Whose patriotic heart and fruitful brain
Shall goad to action and inspire success.
Who wears the second must with humble heart
And fervent faith commend himself to God—
God of all gods, Creator of the world,
Who gave the Universe its shape and law,
And makes obedience its own recompense,
Crime its own penalty, and needs no praise
Of idle words, being most glorified
By Labour, and submission to His laws,
The melodies and harmonies of Time,
And choral anthem of Eternity.
Who wears these earthly, yet most heavenly rings,
Pure without taint or dross, and duly serves
The invisible spirits that within them dwell,
Need no physician more. The golden age,
Departed from the world, revives in him,
And all the physics and the essences
The Earth affords are futile to exalt
His good to betterness. And when at last
Death lays his finger on that honoured head,
He lays it gently, like a tender friend
That would console and cheer. Life's heavenly flame,
Freed by the touch, mounts cheerily to Heaven,
Made one with God, for ever and evermore.
Pure without taint or dross, and duly serves
97
Need no physician more. The golden age,
Departed from the world, revives in him,
And all the physics and the essences
The Earth affords are futile to exalt
His good to betterness. And when at last
Death lays his finger on that honoured head,
He lays it gently, like a tender friend
That would console and cheer. Life's heavenly flame,
Freed by the touch, mounts cheerily to Heaven,
Made one with God, for ever and evermore.
98
THE GARDEN OF NEMESIS.
Gather, oh gather all the fruits ye will,
Children of Earth who roam my garden fair!—
All that the choicest essences distil,
All blossoms that enrich the fragrant air,
All beauty or delight of bud or leaf,
All dainty grapes or apples of desire,
Wreaths for your triumph, garlands for your grief,
And festive coronals for harp or lyre—
Yours is the garden, use it as you may,
Ere all its glories fade and pomp of bloom decay.
Children of Earth who roam my garden fair!—
All that the choicest essences distil,
All blossoms that enrich the fragrant air,
All beauty or delight of bud or leaf,
All dainty grapes or apples of desire,
Wreaths for your triumph, garlands for your grief,
And festive coronals for harp or lyre—
Yours is the garden, use it as you may,
Ere all its glories fade and pomp of bloom decay.
But use it wisely: every visible fruit
Hath one invisible on the self-same bough—
Sorrow's the shadow of Joy; and from one root
Spring balm and bale: the avenging gods allow
No pleasure without pain—no crime or sin
Without its destined punishment, twin born;
Delight's fresh apple hath an asp within,
And Healing points the barb of Misery's thorn—
Fate plants the tree, and tends the opening flower—
Walk warily, mortal men, there's danger in the bower!
Hath one invisible on the self-same bough—
Sorrow's the shadow of Joy; and from one root
Spring balm and bale: the avenging gods allow
99
Without its destined punishment, twin born;
Delight's fresh apple hath an asp within,
And Healing points the barb of Misery's thorn—
Fate plants the tree, and tends the opening flower—
Walk warily, mortal men, there's danger in the bower!
100
ADMETUS.
Admetus, king of men, uprose at morn,
Unrested, unrefreshed, and vigil-worn,
And called his councillors and trusted friends,
His skilful fashioners of means to ends,
To aid him in the darkness of a doubt,
And clear a pathway to the light without,
And disentangle the perplexing chain
Of public peril that oppressed his brain.
Unrested, unrefreshed, and vigil-worn,
And called his councillors and trusted friends,
His skilful fashioners of means to ends,
To aid him in the darkness of a doubt,
And clear a pathway to the light without,
And disentangle the perplexing chain
Of public peril that oppressed his brain.
He talked—they talked; — but from their talk upsprang
Nor aid, nor cheer, nor aught but wordy clang
And windy argument. He smote his head,
Despairing of their help. “Begone!”;he said,
“And I will pour the story of my grief
To one whose wisdom shall afford relief—
A youth whose lightest word or idlest thought
Reveals more judgment than the years have brought
To greybeards such as you, who never learn
A new experience, and refuse to turn
Out of the ancient ruts in which you toil
To evener paths across untrodden soil.”
Nor aid, nor cheer, nor aught but wordy clang
And windy argument. He smote his head,
Despairing of their help. “Begone!”;he said,
101
To one whose wisdom shall afford relief—
A youth whose lightest word or idlest thought
Reveals more judgment than the years have brought
To greybeards such as you, who never learn
A new experience, and refuse to turn
Out of the ancient ruts in which you toil
To evener paths across untrodden soil.”
“Who, and whence comes this wonder of the land?”
Said one whose place was at the king's right hand;
“This marvellous boy, whom eye hath never seen,
Except the king's, and in whose soul serene
Wisdom hath found her throne?”;The king replied,
Cheerily, calmly, and forbore to chide,
“A shepherd boy, as fair as morning light,
Who tends my flocks upon the mountain height—
My servant and my friend.”;Each looked at each,
And said with glancees eloquent as speech,
“The kingis crazed; much care hath driven him wild.”
Admetus understood them; but he smiled
Contemptuous, and went forth from them alone
To the bleak moorland and the mossy stone,
Where oft at sunrise sat the shepherd boy,
To gaze upon its light, as if 't were joy
And duty both in one, to hail and bless
Its first faint radiance in the wilderness.
Said one whose place was at the king's right hand;
“This marvellous boy, whom eye hath never seen,
Except the king's, and in whose soul serene
Wisdom hath found her throne?”;The king replied,
Cheerily, calmly, and forbore to chide,
“A shepherd boy, as fair as morning light,
Who tends my flocks upon the mountain height—
My servant and my friend.”;Each looked at each,
And said with glancees eloquent as speech,
“The kingis crazed; much care hath driven him wild.”
Admetus understood them; but he smiled
102
To the bleak moorland and the mossy stone,
Where oft at sunrise sat the shepherd boy,
To gaze upon its light, as if 't were joy
And duty both in one, to hail and bless
Its first faint radiance in the wilderness.
Admetus found him, facing the full orb,
Drinking the rays as if he would absorb
The sunshine, till it pierced through all his frame,
And lit his human flesh with heavenly flame.
Divine he seemed, but sad; his eye of fire
Shot sparkles of unsatisfied desire,
As t'ward the sun he turned; but when he saw
The king approaching, and the love and awe
That mingled in his face, a smile benign
Lit him all over. “Friend and master mine,
I've thought of thee the long, long summer day,
And grieve to quit thee—for I must away—
Back to my native home. But tell me now,
O king, with care and sorrow on thy brow,
And countless councillors to aid thee ever
Through all the tangled mazes of cndeavour,
Why hast thou sought me—me, a shepherd youth,
Poor and unknown, to guide thee to the truth
Thy courtiers cannot find?”;Replied the king—
“Because I found thee fruitful as the spring
In modest wisdom, charity, and love,
And all the virtues of the gods above;
And more than all, because when I would choose
To take unto my heart, and never lose,
A friend indeed, he must be man of men,
Of lion-heart, dove-eye, and eagle-ken—
A man, whatever be his rank or birth,
By Heaven predoomed to sanctify the earth.
Such have I found thee, herding on the hill
My sheep and beeves; and such I find thee still,
Nobler in poverty and mean estate
Than all the kings who enter at my gate.”
Drinking the rays as if he would absorb
The sunshine, till it pierced through all his frame,
And lit his human flesh with heavenly flame.
Divine he seemed, but sad; his eye of fire
Shot sparkles of unsatisfied desire,
As t'ward the sun he turned; but when he saw
The king approaching, and the love and awe
That mingled in his face, a smile benign
Lit him all over. “Friend and master mine,
I've thought of thee the long, long summer day,
And grieve to quit thee—for I must away—
Back to my native home. But tell me now,
O king, with care and sorrow on thy brow,
103
Through all the tangled mazes of cndeavour,
Why hast thou sought me—me, a shepherd youth,
Poor and unknown, to guide thee to the truth
Thy courtiers cannot find?”;Replied the king—
“Because I found thee fruitful as the spring
In modest wisdom, charity, and love,
And all the virtues of the gods above;
And more than all, because when I would choose
To take unto my heart, and never lose,
A friend indeed, he must be man of men,
Of lion-heart, dove-eye, and eagle-ken—
A man, whatever be his rank or birth,
By Heaven predoomed to sanctify the earth.
Such have I found thee, herding on the hill
My sheep and beeves; and such I find thee still,
Nobler in poverty and mean estate
Than all the kings who enter at my gate.”
“True friend of Man, and searcher of the heart,”
Replied the shepherd boy, “though I depart—
My penance done—and seek my heavenly bowers,
Know, thou hast harboured in his evil hours,
A banished god. Admetus! close thine eyes,
Lest thou behold, this day, without disguise,
Apollo in his glory, and be slain
By the too fatal splendour, veiled in vain,
To save from doom, pronounced since Time began,
The too presumptuous and unhappy man
Who'd gaze upon the gods!”;Admetus knew
That a god spake; and kneeling in the dew,
Covered his reverent face; while from afar
A voice came floating from the morning star,
Which said, in words that seemed to wave and roll
In seas of music through his listening soul—
“Admetus! king of men! when evil days
Afflict thy spirit, turn thy hopeful gaze
To judging Heaven, and know that thou shalt find
Friends in the gods, for friendship to mankind!”
Replied the shepherd boy, “though I depart—
104
Know, thou hast harboured in his evil hours,
A banished god. Admetus! close thine eyes,
Lest thou behold, this day, without disguise,
Apollo in his glory, and be slain
By the too fatal splendour, veiled in vain,
To save from doom, pronounced since Time began,
The too presumptuous and unhappy man
Who'd gaze upon the gods!”;Admetus knew
That a god spake; and kneeling in the dew,
Covered his reverent face; while from afar
A voice came floating from the morning star,
Which said, in words that seemed to wave and roll
In seas of music through his listening soul—
“Admetus! king of men! when evil days
Afflict thy spirit, turn thy hopeful gaze
To judging Heaven, and know that thou shalt find
Friends in the gods, for friendship to mankind!”
105
THE DREAM OF ANACREON.
Last night my dreams took fearful shape:
I dreamed that Earth had lost the grape,
And that the only cup of wine
Left in the wretched world was mine.
I raised it to my thirsty mouth,
Flushed with desire and parched with drouth,
To fire and animate my soul,
When lo! the false malicious bowl
Crashed in my hand that tightly bound,
And shed the treasure on the ground.
“Ah, well!”;I sighed, “if such it be,
I am resigned to Fate's decree.”
The wild winds blow,
The rain-drops flow,
Heaven's noblest gifts are with us still,
And plenty skips on plain and hill;
I'll cease to mourn the perished vine,
And Water shall be good as wine!
I dreamed that Earth had lost the grape,
And that the only cup of wine
Left in the wretched world was mine.
I raised it to my thirsty mouth,
Flushed with desire and parched with drouth,
To fire and animate my soul,
When lo! the false malicious bowl
Crashed in my hand that tightly bound,
And shed the treasure on the ground.
“Ah, well!”;I sighed, “if such it be,
I am resigned to Fate's decree.”
The wild winds blow,
The rain-drops flow,
106
And plenty skips on plain and hill;
I'll cease to mourn the perished vine,
And Water shall be good as wine!
My second dream was darker far—
The world had lost its guiding star,
Its glory and delight were gone,
Immortal Love had heavenward flown;
I knew no more its cheerful bliss,
For 't was impossible to kiss,
Though youthful lips might strive to meet
In fond commingling, pure and sweet:
Some force, result of demon art,
Kept them eternally apart.
“Ah me!”;I cried, “'t is time to die,
No joy is left beneath the sky!”
I slumbering spoke—
I groaned and woke—
And found my Phryné at my side—
Mine own, my beautiful, my bride;
And to repay me for my pain,
I kissed her thrice, and thrice again!
The world had lost its guiding star,
Its glory and delight were gone,
Immortal Love had heavenward flown;
I knew no more its cheerful bliss,
For 't was impossible to kiss,
Though youthful lips might strive to meet
In fond commingling, pure and sweet:
Some force, result of demon art,
Kept them eternally apart.
“Ah me!”;I cried, “'t is time to die,
No joy is left beneath the sky!”
I slumbering spoke—
I groaned and woke—
And found my Phryné at my side—
Mine own, my beautiful, my bride;
107
I kissed her thrice, and thrice again!
And when the moving light up-sprent,
And forth into the world I went,
And heard the silly crowd complain
Of grief, and penury, and pain;
Or rich men groan at fancied ill,
The mere diseases of the will;
Or poor men sigh, whose limbs were strong,
At petty care or transient wrong;
Or dull philosophers declare
That human life was hard to bear—
Oh fools! I cried, look forth, and see
What bounteous gifts the gods decree!
While beams the sun,
Or rivers run,
The water and the wine shall flow;
For health and strength, and balm of woe,
And Love, eternal as the spheres,
Shine through the rain of human tears!
And forth into the world I went,
And heard the silly crowd complain
Of grief, and penury, and pain;
Or rich men groan at fancied ill,
The mere diseases of the will;
Or poor men sigh, whose limbs were strong,
At petty care or transient wrong;
Or dull philosophers declare
That human life was hard to bear—
Oh fools! I cried, look forth, and see
What bounteous gifts the gods decree!
While beams the sun,
Or rivers run,
The water and the wine shall flow;
For health and strength, and balm of woe,
And Love, eternal as the spheres,
Shine through the rain of human tears!
108
PHIDIAS.
Am I so old, so feeble, and so faded,
That my right hand hath lost for evermore
The cunning of its prime? Is my light shaded,
And all the fruitful fancies that it bore?
My mind was once an orchard, ripe and sunny,
A forest opulent with flower and tree,
Where idlest bees might gather store of honey;
And hath my winter come? Ah, woe is me!
That my right hand hath lost for evermore
The cunning of its prime? Is my light shaded,
And all the fruitful fancies that it bore?
My mind was once an orchard, ripe and sunny,
A forest opulent with flower and tree,
Where idlest bees might gather store of honey;
And hath my winter come? Ah, woe is me!
I will go back again into my summer,
Into the spring-time and the mid-noon blaze,
And sit among my foliage, a fresh-comer,
To study what I did in ancient days.
In my past strength I'll bathe me as in ocean—
With mine own beauties fire my fading sight,
And kindle yet again mine old emotion
In my own labours, and my youth's delight.
Into the spring-time and the mid-noon blaze,
And sit among my foliage, a fresh-comer,
To study what I did in ancient days.
109
With mine own beauties fire my fading sight,
And kindle yet again mine old emotion
In my own labours, and my youth's delight.
Lo! here the young Apollo! lithe and lustrous
In the immortal beauty of my thought!
His lips apart with joy, his rich hair clustrous
Over his godlike brow! his right hand fraught
With power and majesty; a visible glory
Veiling him over, as a mist the sun
New risen o'er the mountain summits hoary
To wake the world! And this mine hands have done!
In the immortal beauty of my thought!
His lips apart with joy, his rich hair clustrous
Over his godlike brow! his right hand fraught
With power and majesty; a visible glory
Veiling him over, as a mist the sun
New risen o'er the mountain summits hoary
To wake the world! And this mine hands have done!
Lo! Pallas! with her face of calm, sweet sorrow—
A sorrow of divinest wisdom born—
Looks upwards to the stars, as if to borrow
Comfort from them, to cast on men forlorn.
And I, too, fashioned her: my brain conceived her!
Ah, no! I must have seen her, must have known
That she came unto me, and I received her,
And carved from life the vision of the stone.
A sorrow of divinest wisdom born—
Looks upwards to the stars, as if to borrow
Comfort from them, to cast on men forlorn.
And I, too, fashioned her: my brain conceived her!
Ah, no! I must have seen her, must have known
110
And carved from life the vision of the stone.
And lo! beside her, beautiful and tender,
White as the ocean-foam from which she sprang,
Great Aphrodite! in her nude, pure splendour,
At whose glad birth the expectant planets rang.
Lovely! most lovely! fondled by the Graces,
Even in the marble where she stands, and showers
From her lips kisses, from her arms embraces,
And from her eyes looks that unfold the flowers.
White as the ocean-foam from which she sprang,
Great Aphrodite! in her nude, pure splendour,
At whose glad birth the expectant planets rang.
Lovely! most lovely! fondled by the Graces,
Even in the marble where she stands, and showers
From her lips kisses, from her arms embraces,
And from her eyes looks that unfold the flowers.
Ye shall suffice me, O ye fair creations
Of mine exulting prime! Though dim mine eyes—
Though I be quite forgotten of the nations—
Here I am young for ever, and arise
Amid my youthful fancies, time-defiant!
The old fire burns within me as of yore;
I stand upon the Past, and, self-reliant,
Know that my name shall live for evermore.
Of mine exulting prime! Though dim mine eyes—
Though I be quite forgotten of the nations—
Here I am young for ever, and arise
Amid my youthful fancies, time-defiant!
The old fire burns within me as of yore;
I stand upon the Past, and, self-reliant,
Know that my name shall live for evermore.
111
CASSANDRA.
We live in a time of sorrow,
A time of sorrow and change,
When the Old goeth down to destruction,
And the New cometh sadly to life,
Unshapely, unwelcome, uncared for:
When Fact is at war with Idea,
And Thought hath no rest for her pinions,
No ground for her wandering feet.
A time, a time for tears to flow,
Like streams when the wild rain-tempests blow.
Woe to the nations! woe to them! woe!
A time of sorrow and change,
When the Old goeth down to destruction,
And the New cometh sadly to life,
Unshapely, unwelcome, uncared for:
When Fact is at war with Idea,
And Thought hath no rest for her pinions,
No ground for her wandering feet.
A time, a time for tears to flow,
Like streams when the wild rain-tempests blow.
Woe to the nations! woe to them! woe!
We live in a time of sorrow,
When Faith hath gone out from the earth,
And old Superstitions are dying:
When Opinion hath nothing to stand on
But stubble of dry mathematics,
And marrowless graveyards of logic:
When the few who can think look around them,
And sigh that all thinking is vain.
A time, a time for cheeks to glow
At the shame and the wrong of this world below.
Woe to the nations! woe to them! woe!
When Faith hath gone out from the earth,
And old Superstitions are dying:
112
But stubble of dry mathematics,
And marrowless graveyards of logic:
When the few who can think look around them,
And sigh that all thinking is vain.
A time, a time for cheeks to glow
At the shame and the wrong of this world below.
Woe to the nations! woe to them! woe!
We live in a time of sorrow,
When the ship that bears our lives
Hath neither crew nor pilot,
And drives through the merciless billows,
The cloud and the lightning above it,
The rocks and the whirlpools under;
When the men and the women and children,
Sit wringing their hands, imploring
The gods who alone can save.
A time, a time when the world shall know
How deep the roots of its misery grow.
Woe to the nations! woe to them! woe!
When the ship that bears our lives
Hath neither crew nor pilot,
And drives through the merciless billows,
The cloud and the lightning above it,
The rocks and the whirlpools under;
When the men and the women and children,
Sit wringing their hands, imploring
The gods who alone can save.
A time, a time when the world shall know
How deep the roots of its misery grow.
Woe to the nations! woe to them! woe!
113
We live in a time of sorrow,
When men have no thought but of money,
And carnal delights it will bring them,
Of mansions and horses and statues,
And power to out-glitter their neighbours;
When women are slaves to their raiment,
And prattle all day about nothings:
Unless they do worse, and out-babble
The preachers of bloodshed and hatred.
A time, a time when the high and low
Shall share in the pitiless overthrow.
Woe to the nations! woe to them! woe!
When men have no thought but of money,
And carnal delights it will bring them,
Of mansions and horses and statues,
And power to out-glitter their neighbours;
When women are slaves to their raiment,
And prattle all day about nothings:
Unless they do worse, and out-babble
The preachers of bloodshed and hatred.
A time, a time when the high and low
Shall share in the pitiless overthrow.
Woe to the nations! woe to them! woe!
We live in a time of sorrow,
When Mockery crushes Reason,
And heartless laughter settles
All doubts that the wise man feels.
When Reverence hath departed
And Worship is dead and buried;
Or sleeps, if it live at all,
In the souls of little children.
A time, a time when the ebb and flow
Murmur alike that the whirlwinds blow.
Woe to the nations! woe to them! woe!
When Mockery crushes Reason,
And heartless laughter settles
All doubts that the wise man feels.
When Reverence hath departed
And Worship is dead and buried;
Or sleeps, if it live at all,
In the souls of little children.
114
Murmur alike that the whirlwinds blow.
Woe to the nations! woe to them! woe!
We live in a time of sorrow,
When statesmen and chiefs and rulers
Have nothing to build on but quicksands,
And nothing to do but to cobble
The ricketty, crazy thrones
That can scarcely bear their burdens.
And when priests at their mouldering altars,
No longer have faith in the doctrine
They preach for the lucre it brings them;
And scarcely conceal from the people
The fact that they prophesy falsely.
A time, a time for blood to flow,
And the earth to stagger to and fro,
Woe to the nations! woe to them! woe!
When statesmen and chiefs and rulers
Have nothing to build on but quicksands,
And nothing to do but to cobble
The ricketty, crazy thrones
That can scarcely bear their burdens.
And when priests at their mouldering altars,
No longer have faith in the doctrine
They preach for the lucre it brings them;
And scarcely conceal from the people
The fact that they prophesy falsely.
A time, a time for blood to flow,
And the earth to stagger to and fro,
Woe to the nations! woe to them! woe!
115
ENCELADUS.
O vengeful, cruel, and remorseless gods,That would have smitten me to nothingness
Had you the power, I bless your impotence!
You cannot curb my free immortal thought
That curses and defies you evermore;—
You may not, and you cannot, slay my soul!
Crush me with tortures mighty as yourselves;
Mountain on mountain pile upon my breast;
Afflict me, in omnipotence of rage,
Until my flesh creep, and my marrowy bones
Are desiccate with fire, and my huge pain
Goads me to struggles that appal the world,
And shake to dust the towns and villages
At Etna's base—lo! I defy you still!
You cannot even drive me to despair!
116
Shall melt away as if it were a dream.
But I, Enceladus, shall still survive,
Immortal as yourselves! Great though ye be,
The God of gods is mightier than you—
And when your hour has passed, my hour shall come.
117
ORPHEUS IN THRACE.
How shall I sing in Thrace? Be hushed, my lute!
Amid the mockeries of this grovelling people
There is no reverence for song the immortal.
Amid the mockeries of this grovelling people
There is no reverence for song the immortal.
How shall they bear to hear of glorious deeds,
Who have no passion save for gathering riches,
The slaves of appetite all gross and carnal?
Who have no passion save for gathering riches,
The slaves of appetite all gross and carnal?
How shall the tender music of my chant,
Born of the touch of all divine emotions,
Throb through the pulses of a swine-like rabble—
Born of the touch of all divine emotions,
Throb through the pulses of a swine-like rabble—
That feels not sympathy—that knows not Love—
That gibes at Truth—that jeers and laughs at Pity,
And undervalues all the gods hold sacred?
That gibes at Truth—that jeers and laughs at Pity,
And undervalues all the gods hold sacred?
118
What though the forest trees and ancient hills,
The flow'rets at my feet, and Ocean's billows,
Respond for ever to my heavenly music;—
The flow'rets at my feet, and Ocean's billows,
Respond for ever to my heavenly music;—
If men reply not, useless is my song;
My voice is as the voice of one in deserts,
And makes no ripple on the stagnant air.
My voice is as the voice of one in deserts,
And makes no ripple on the stagnant air.
And men are deserts if they have no hearts—
Deserts and worse; for deserts breed no evils
Worse than themselves! Hush evermore, O music!
Deserts and worse; for deserts breed no evils
Worse than themselves! Hush evermore, O music!
Be silent, O thou once entrancing song,
That shaped the people's fancies to thy pleasure,
And swayed their callous minds to noble effort!
That shaped the people's fancies to thy pleasure,
And swayed their callous minds to noble effort!
Be silent, silent, silent evermore!
It is not music that such people merit,
But rods to scourge, and thunderbolts to blast them!—
It is not music that such people merit,
But rods to scourge, and thunderbolts to blast them!—
Not music and sweet song, and words divine,
But fire from heaven to wither and consume them,
For mockery of the gods and scorn of virtue!
But fire from heaven to wither and consume them,
For mockery of the gods and scorn of virtue!
119
I will go forth alone unto the sea,
And hold communion with the moaning waters,
And melancholy winds, and chafing foreland!
And hold communion with the moaning waters,
And melancholy winds, and chafing foreland!
I will go forth alone, and sad of heart,
And talk with gods, not men; with fauns and satyrs;
With wandering winds and echoes of the valleys;
And talk with gods, not men; with fauns and satyrs;
With wandering winds and echoes of the valleys;
With shadows of the rocks; with night and morn;
With savage beasts; with birds upon the branches;
With all that God has made, save man the scorner!
With savage beasts; with birds upon the branches;
With all that God has made, save man the scorner!
| Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature | |