 | Poetical Works of Lionel Johnson |  |
COMRADES
To Marmaduke Langdale.
At least, it was a life of swords,
Our life! nor lived in vain:
We fought the fight with mighty lords,
Nor dastards have we slain.
Our life! nor lived in vain:
We fought the fight with mighty lords,
Nor dastards have we slain.
We stirred at morn, and through bright air
Swept to the trysting place:
Winds of the mountains in our hair,
And sunrise on each face.
Swept to the trysting place:
Winds of the mountains in our hair,
And sunrise on each face.
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No need to spur! our horses knew
The joy, to which we went:
Over the brightening lands they flew
Forward, and were content.
The joy, to which we went:
Over the brightening lands they flew
Forward, and were content.
On each man's lips, an happy smile;
In each man's eyes, delight:
So, fired with foretaste, mile on mile,
We thundered to the fight.
In each man's eyes, delight:
So, fired with foretaste, mile on mile,
We thundered to the fight.
Let death come now, and from the sun
Hide me away: what then?
My days have seen more prowess done,
Than years of other men.
Hide me away: what then?
My days have seen more prowess done,
Than years of other men.
Oh, warriors of the rugged heights,
We, where the eagles nest:
They, courtly soldiers, gentle knights,
By kings and dames caressed.
We, where the eagles nest:
They, courtly soldiers, gentle knights,
By kings and dames caressed.
Not theirs, the passion of the sword,
The fire of living blades!
Like men, they fought: and found reward
In dance and feast, like maids.
The fire of living blades!
Like men, they fought: and found reward
In dance and feast, like maids.
We, on the mountain lawns encamped,
Close under the great stars,
Turned, when the horses hard by stamped,
And dreamed again, of wars:
Close under the great stars,
Turned, when the horses hard by stamped,
And dreamed again, of wars:
Or, if one woke, he saw the gleam
Of moonlight, on each face,
Touch its tumultuary dream
With moments of mild grace.
Of moonlight, on each face,
Touch its tumultuary dream
With moments of mild grace.
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We hated no man; but we fought
With all men: the fierce wind
Lashes the wide earth without thought;
Our tempest scourged mankind.
With all men: the fierce wind
Lashes the wide earth without thought;
Our tempest scourged mankind.
They cursed us, living without laws!
They, in their pride of peace:
Who bared no blade, but in just cause;
Nor grieved, that war should cease.
They, in their pride of peace:
Who bared no blade, but in just cause;
Nor grieved, that war should cease.
O spirit of the wild hill-side!
O spirit of the steel!
We answered nothing, when they cried,
But challenged with a peal.
O spirit of the steel!
We answered nothing, when they cried,
But challenged with a peal.
And, when the battle blood had poured
To slake our souls' desire:
Oh, brave to hear, how torrents roared
Beside the pinewood fire!
To slake our souls' desire:
Oh, brave to hear, how torrents roared
Beside the pinewood fire!
My brothers, whom in warrior wise
The death of deaths hath stilled!
Ah, you would understand these eyes,
Although with strange tears filled!
The death of deaths hath stilled!
Ah, you would understand these eyes,
Although with strange tears filled!
1889.
| Poetical Works of Lionel Johnson | |