 | Brother Fabian's Manuscript |  |
167
ROUGE ET NOIR.
You there, looking so demure at
Yonder lily-fisted curate,
And the other there, his brother,
In his spurs and knightly red:
Marvel you how e'er your sister
Kissed the Parson when he kissed her?
Or how Fanny can sit rapt in
Loving converse with the Captain?
How one care of such a pair of—
Enters into maiden's head?
Yonder lily-fisted curate,
And the other there, his brother,
In his spurs and knightly red:
Marvel you how e'er your sister
Kissed the Parson when he kissed her?
Or how Fanny can sit rapt in
Loving converse with the Captain?
How one care of such a pair of—
Enters into maiden's head?
Come, methinks you're somewhat bitter,
My fair cynic crochet-knitter:
If you like a chat, let's strike a
Fairer balance if we can.
Yonder dandy little cleric,
Mediæval-neoteric,
Yonder Horseguards' ultimatum,
Lisp and giggle and pomatum,
Weigh them, flay them, bray them, slay them,
Still you'll find them each a man!
My fair cynic crochet-knitter:
168
Fairer balance if we can.
Yonder dandy little cleric,
Mediæval-neoteric,
Yonder Horseguards' ultimatum,
Lisp and giggle and pomatum,
Weigh them, flay them, bray them, slay them,
Still you'll find them each a man!
'Tis a something nobler, surely,
Which those damsels love so purely,
Than the waistcoat or the laced coat,
Priestly black or knightly red.
Beams there, then, no light supernal,
Lode-star of a love eternal,
Evermore in each vocation,
To excuse the adoration
Which discovers in their lovers
All of great in hand or head?
Which those damsels love so purely,
Than the waistcoat or the laced coat,
Priestly black or knightly red.
Beams there, then, no light supernal,
Lode-star of a love eternal,
Evermore in each vocation,
To excuse the adoration
Which discovers in their lovers
All of great in hand or head?
169
Yes! The Soldier and the Preacher,
That the guardian, this the teacher,
Own a title true and vital
To a heart's-love infinite!
Clothe us how you will, we're human:
God hath made us man and woman.
Rightly then, shall help-mate tender
Love her guider and defender,
And by rule of Nature's true-love
Still adore the Priest and Knight!
That the guardian, this the teacher,
Own a title true and vital
To a heart's-love infinite!
Clothe us how you will, we're human:
God hath made us man and woman.
Rightly then, shall help-mate tender
Love her guider and defender,
And by rule of Nature's true-love
Still adore the Priest and Knight!
Lo you there, at Eden's portals
Stand the grand primeval mortals,
Man and woman, merely human
In the lore of Good and Ill!
Yet, though fallen both, and banished,
All their garden-glory vanished,
Knight, by Cherub-swords appointed,
Priest, by Seraph-tears anointed,
Still the woman loves the true man,
Knight and Priest she loves him still!
Stand the grand primeval mortals,
Man and woman, merely human
In the lore of Good and Ill!
Yet, though fallen both, and banished,
All their garden-glory vanished,
Knight, by Cherub-swords appointed,
Priest, by Seraph-tears anointed,
170
Knight and Priest she loves him still!
Or, so please you, turn the pages
Of the great world's coming ages
To the latest and the greatest:
Look adown the years, and see
Where, beyond the days of mitres,
Where, beyond the days of fighters,
Priest of white self-sacrifices,
Warrior with his wants and vices,
Still the woman loves the true man
With the grander love to be!
Of the great world's coming ages
To the latest and the greatest:
Look adown the years, and see
Where, beyond the days of mitres,
Where, beyond the days of fighters,
Priest of white self-sacrifices,
Warrior with his wants and vices,
Still the woman loves the true man
With the grander love to be!
Aye, and in the baser real
Still she clings to this ideal:
Else I wonder much how yonder
Pair could e'er have won them wives!
Yet 'twere ill to pass them blindly;
Let us rather own them kindly
As the types of nobler orders,
Nobler preachers, nobler sworders,
Even though nothing but their clothing
Tell the meaning of their lives!
Still she clings to this ideal:
Else I wonder much how yonder
Pair could e'er have won them wives!
Yet 'twere ill to pass them blindly;
Let us rather own them kindly
171
Nobler preachers, nobler sworders,
Even though nothing but their clothing
Tell the meaning of their lives!
Is the lore not worth the learning
Taught by yonder love-lamp burning
Pure and holy on the lowly
Altar of a sister's breast?
You, no doubt, are wiser, older,
And perhaps a trifle colder,
Yet whate'er the outer cover
Of your own sublimer lover,
Baser, nobler, king or cobbler,
All you love is Knight or Priest!
Taught by yonder love-lamp burning
Pure and holy on the lowly
Altar of a sister's breast?
You, no doubt, are wiser, older,
And perhaps a trifle colder,
Yet whate'er the outer cover
Of your own sublimer lover,
Baser, nobler, king or cobbler,
All you love is Knight or Priest!
| Brother Fabian's Manuscript | |