Collected Poems: With Autobiographical and Critical Fragments By Frederic W. H. Myers: Edited by his Wife Eveleen Myers |
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| EARLY POEMS |
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 | Collected Poems: With Autobiographical and Critical Fragments |  |
49
EARLY POEMS
BELISARIUS
I remember when I think
That my youth was half divine.
Tennyson.
That my youth was half divine.
Tennyson.
Blind I am, and poor and aged, but my spirit holds its might,
Though my life, within me waning, flickers wildly into night:
Though my life, within me waning, flickers wildly into night:
Yet I fail as I remember all the days that I have seen,
As I live through all the honour, all the sorrow that has been.
As I live through all the honour, all the sorrow that has been.
Well it is remembrance leaves us record of our younger breath,
Else, bemazed with ancient sadness, should we stagger unto death;
Else, bemazed with ancient sadness, should we stagger unto death;
Well that infant passion weakens as we near the voiceless tomb,
Else would pangs of slow deferment drench our days in restless gloom.
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Yet I know in pristine gladness how my vision-hope was high,
As I scaled barbarian mountains, slowly nearer on the sky;
As I scaled barbarian mountains, slowly nearer on the sky;
As I ranged barbarian forests when my step was firm and free,
Circled in a haze of glory, gazing through a fair To Be:
Circled in a haze of glory, gazing through a fair To Be:
So I joyed in fresher summers, gentler winters, till at length,
When my flesh was formed in sinew, and my manhood reared in strength,
When my flesh was formed in sinew, and my manhood reared in strength,
Then I left my father-valleys, plunging headlong into strife,
Pass'd through danger, pass'd through honour, all vicissitudes of life;
Pass'd through danger, pass'd through honour, all vicissitudes of life;
And my strong soul buoyed me onward, eager for the future chance,
And my life-way showed before me as a line of sure advance;
And my life-way showed before me as a line of sure advance;
On from glory unto glory, jubilant through ringing years,
And acclaim of many nations thundered in my victor-ears.
And acclaim of many nations thundered in my victor-ears.
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So I leapt from high to higher, conqueror where'er I came,
Till the nations lapsed in slumber, shadowed by my hero-name:
Till the nations lapsed in slumber, shadowed by my hero-name:
Then, as one who up a mountain battling higher ever climbs,
So I stood before my people, master of the coming times.
So I stood before my people, master of the coming times.
And the traveller struggles onward, joying in the swifter change,
Over ridge and ridge of moorland, heav'd in slowly heightening range—
Over ridge and ridge of moorland, heav'd in slowly heightening range—
Gazing on the nearer heavens, or the lands beneath him spread,
Far from solitary summits, silent, wind inhabited;
Far from solitary summits, silent, wind inhabited;
Boasting in an ebriate fancy, “I am freed from man below,
And my proper will shall steer me in the way that I will go:”
And my proper will shall steer me in the way that I will go:”
But the storm-blast rushes on him, and the cloud is dense around,
And he buffets slowly downward, mazed, from unfamiliar ground;
And he buffets slowly downward, mazed, from unfamiliar ground;
And he courts unknown perdition, martyr to a blind device,
Staggering over slippery herbage, headlong down a precipice—
52
So I failed from out my splendour, shaken from a peerless fame,
Hurled from power into baseness, cast from glory into shame.
Hurled from power into baseness, cast from glory into shame.
Women are our evil spirits since the hour when breath began,
When in pristine Paradise the first woman damned the man;
When in pristine Paradise the first woman damned the man;
Springing from his side she wrought a trustful helpmate's endless ill,
And the wrong wherewith she wronged him tinges all our action still:
And the wrong wherewith she wronged him tinges all our action still:
Heroes, through the crescent cycles, quailed before a woman's might,
And it was a woman drove me into penury and night.
And it was a woman drove me into penury and night.
Ever in the stream of life some swimmer gasps in frantic death,
Sudden through the upper waters, slow through denser gulphs beneath:
Sudden through the upper waters, slow through denser gulphs beneath:
Swift another strikes triumphant, splashing through the breasted spray,
But the flood above him closing shuts him from the sight of day.
But the flood above him closing shuts him from the sight of day.
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Once the lord of lordly nations, I, whose mandate none gainsaid,
Mulct with pain a baser people of the pittance of my bread:
Mulct with pain a baser people of the pittance of my bread:
Round me rush the eddying waters, on my face the sea-winds play,
And afar, from roseate summits, melts the solitary day.
And afar, from roseate summits, melts the solitary day.
What is that to him that founders, struggling with a quicksand chance,
What is all the life of nature to the fool of circumstance?
What is all the life of nature to the fool of circumstance?
What is all the glory round it to an eye that cannot see?—
Not for me the snowy splendours, and the sunset not for me.
Not for me the snowy splendours, and the sunset not for me.
Phantoms people all my blackness, shadows of a wondrous Past
Gleam before me for an instant, ceding in a boundless Vast;
Gleam before me for an instant, ceding in a boundless Vast;
And a vision fades and brightens, the fair likeness of a form,
Faint sometimes in mystic distance, drenched sometimes in flaming storm;
Faint sometimes in mystic distance, drenched sometimes in flaming storm;
Yet returning ever nearer, flashing from its lustrous eyes
Dreamful pleasure, dreamful sadness, till again in dark it dies.
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Lo, as one in flickering embers finds a vision of his youth,
And entrancèd as he gazes, knows he sees the living Truth:
And entrancèd as he gazes, knows he sees the living Truth:
So I joy with ancient glories, so I throb with ancient strife,
Closing all the Past in Present, living through a by-gone life.
Closing all the Past in Present, living through a by-gone life.
What if I had lived a peasant, cherishing my earlier home,
Stifling all my restless yearning, all my vague desire to roam,
Stifling all my restless yearning, all my vague desire to roam,
To be lord of larger action, wider circles of my kind,
Nor to let its youthful vigour rot, unused, from out my mind.
Nor to let its youthful vigour rot, unused, from out my mind.
Were it well to dull with labour all return of joy and pain?—
No—a bye-word of the nations, yet I have not lived in vain;
No—a bye-word of the nations, yet I have not lived in vain;
Not in vain have saved my nation, though it lapse in impotence,
For a power grows in using, grows a large self-confidence:
For a power grows in using, grows a large self-confidence:
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And my spirit broadens in me, crescent into perfect man,
For his name is fair for ever who has worked the work he can.
For his name is fair for ever who has worked the work he can.
Slowly sinks my ancient nation, lost in luxury and crime,
And I sit in blind oblivion, but I note the pregnant time;
And I sit in blind oblivion, but I note the pregnant time;
Onward all the ages circle, and the peoples rise and fail,
Leaving glory-paths behind them, as the shattered comet tail:
Leaving glory-paths behind them, as the shattered comet tail:
Each is nobler than the former, mistress of a larger space,
Till the lands be yoked in concert under one resultant race—
Till the lands be yoked in concert under one resultant race—
Not a race of nerveless women, clutching at the present good—
Wise in thought and swift in action, lords of iron hardihood,
Wise in thought and swift in action, lords of iron hardihood,
One to other closer knitted, larger-hearted, stronger-souled,
Workers upon earth, and blameless as the great-named prince of old.
Workers upon earth, and blameless as the great-named prince of old.
Oh that I might see their glory, and might linger on the earth
Till the dying nations travail, labouring into newer birth.
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Then would desolation vanish, merged in wonder, merged in bliss;
I should know the mystic Future, I should feel the Truth that is.
I should know the mystic Future, I should feel the Truth that is.
But I roam through night eternal, and my spirit faints within
As the peoples stagger round me, drunk with folly, dead in sin.
As the peoples stagger round me, drunk with folly, dead in sin.
Lord, how long the thankless evil? are men doomed to endless strife,
Dabbling ever, bloody-fingered, in the darkling stream of life?
Dabbling ever, bloody-fingered, in the darkling stream of life?
For the devils hold dominion, and the good are crushed and poor,
And no heaven-sign can warn us that the Judge is at the door.
And no heaven-sign can warn us that the Judge is at the door.
Where is Wisdom? far apart she habiteth untravelled lands,
And the peoples seek her blindly, stretching out unanswered hands:
And the peoples seek her blindly, stretching out unanswered hands:
Where is Truth? in viewless blackness, in the womb of the To Be,
For the seen we understand not, and the real we cannot see.
For the seen we understand not, and the real we cannot see.
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Yet a beacon-fire within me leads me through tumultuous night,
Every bosom owns a sparkle of the universal light;
Every bosom owns a sparkle of the universal light;
And a day shall come—and, coming, cheer me—when my proper ray
Shall, with other rays convergent, broaden in eternal day.
Shall, with other rays convergent, broaden in eternal day.
What is Freedom? no man knows her, no man yet hath seen her face,
She is splendrous in the distance, mistress of a crowning race—
She is splendrous in the distance, mistress of a crowning race—
Of a race that shall not bluster when its strength has ebbed in sleep,
Charming not the rising lion to the level of the sheep.
Charming not the rising lion to the level of the sheep.
What is Right? the blind commandment of a race of puny kings,
Heeding not the laws of nature nor the ordinance of things.
Heeding not the laws of nature nor the ordinance of things.
For the many tame the mighty, netted round with selfish rules,
And the strong in soul and body fear the multitude of fools.
And the strong in soul and body fear the multitude of fools.
Lo, as one who toils in patience slow through unfamiliar seas,
Bare of compass, bare of viand, driven by the drifting breeze,
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Slowly cleaving shattered surges, bound for never-trodden shores,
Weary with the slow recurrence, the pulsation of his oars;
Weary with the slow recurrence, the pulsation of his oars;
And he trusts to reach a haven, eager for the coming day,
Straining through the lowering cloud-banks, till he maddens with dismay;
Straining through the lowering cloud-banks, till he maddens with dismay;
Frantic first, but after quiet, drowsy with approaching death,
Silent under lonely splendours, perishes with rattling breath—
Silent under lonely splendours, perishes with rattling breath—
Such the life of man is ever, such his weary pilgrimage,
Hope in youth, despair in manhood, growing with his growing age;
Hope in youth, despair in manhood, growing with his growing age;
Till he sinks in torpid stupor, stoic to the rising chance,
Numbed to pleasure, numbed to sorrow, all the round of circumstance.
Numbed to pleasure, numbed to sorrow, all the round of circumstance.
What is Fame? the brilliant bubble throned upon the breaking wave,
And it trembles into nothing, ruined into a nameless grave;
And it trembles into nothing, ruined into a nameless grave;
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Or from action's stirring furnace it ariseth like a spark,
And it brightens for a moment, and it glitters into dark.
And it brightens for a moment, and it glitters into dark.
What is Life? a dream, a nightmare, heavy on the labouring breast
Of a man that yearns, and yearns in vain, to enter into rest.
Of a man that yearns, and yearns in vain, to enter into rest.
Shall I shake the nightmare headlong, shall I rid me of the woe?
No,—it were an evil passport to the realms where I shall go.
No,—it were an evil passport to the realms where I shall go.
For I will not sleep in blackness, silent in the silent tomb,
All my spirit slowly struggles into plenitude to come.
All my spirit slowly struggles into plenitude to come.
I shall mix through timeless ages with the shadows of the great,
Joying in a perfect nature, joying in a perfect state:
Joying in a perfect nature, joying in a perfect state:
There with all the strong Life-leaders, with the flower of all the Past,
I shall reap a larger honour, circling through the mellow Vast.
I shall reap a larger honour, circling through the mellow Vast.
Yet methinks in riper cycles, when the Truth shall know her own,
When benign, long-lingering Wisdom, mounts a universal throne,
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Then shall I be sung and storied, great among the sons of Time,
One who conquered in the battle, one who wrought his life sublime.
One who conquered in the battle, one who wrought his life sublime.
Surely, then, for such an honour it were not in vain to do,
Not in vain to play the hero, and to cleave life's riddle through;
Not in vain to play the hero, and to cleave life's riddle through;
Not in vain to mourn and struggle, not in vain in shame to die,
For my fame shall live beyond me, and the recompense is nigh.
For my fame shall live beyond me, and the recompense is nigh.
61
BELISARIUS
And grief became
A solemn scorn of ills.
Tennyson.
A solemn scorn of ills.
Tennyson.
A beggar begging in the public streets—
A blind man sitting in the market place—
Well; there are many beggars, many blind;
But one blind beggar, Belisarius.
Then said a young man to his fellow youth—
“Who is this beggar? tho' his state be mean,
His spirit seems above his misery;
And ever and anon he mumbles forth,
From the gapped circlet of his ruined teeth,
‘I bide my time, I wait the latter days;
All men must perish, but I know the end.’”
To whom his comrades answered with a laugh:
“Oh! he is brimmed with stirring history,
Unequal conflicts, glorious victories,
And kings that quailed before his hero might
When the blind beggar was a general.
But ask himself, for he will tell you all.”
Then asked the young man of the aged one,
“Old man, who art thou? tell me all thy tale,
And thy life-history.”—And the old man smiled:
As some faint meteor in the pale-starred even
Gleams from the heavens on a joyless tract,—
A tract of wide waste lands, and solitary,
Save beasts that howl beneath a cloud-wrapt night,
And reddens for a moment, and is gone;
And the wind moans, and the far bittern booms,
And the reeds shiver, and the marsh-fed willows
Sway their lank arms awhile, and all is still:
So gleamed a smile across his haggard face,
A smile that only lit his desolation.
Smiling, he sighed: “So soon, so soon, forgot?
Yet not for ever, for I know the end.
But I will tell thee all things from the first—
A blind man sitting in the market place—
Well; there are many beggars, many blind;
But one blind beggar, Belisarius.
Then said a young man to his fellow youth—
“Who is this beggar? tho' his state be mean,
His spirit seems above his misery;
And ever and anon he mumbles forth,
From the gapped circlet of his ruined teeth,
‘I bide my time, I wait the latter days;
All men must perish, but I know the end.’”
To whom his comrades answered with a laugh:
“Oh! he is brimmed with stirring history,
Unequal conflicts, glorious victories,
And kings that quailed before his hero might
When the blind beggar was a general.
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Then asked the young man of the aged one,
“Old man, who art thou? tell me all thy tale,
And thy life-history.”—And the old man smiled:
As some faint meteor in the pale-starred even
Gleams from the heavens on a joyless tract,—
A tract of wide waste lands, and solitary,
Save beasts that howl beneath a cloud-wrapt night,
And reddens for a moment, and is gone;
And the wind moans, and the far bittern booms,
And the reeds shiver, and the marsh-fed willows
Sway their lank arms awhile, and all is still:
So gleamed a smile across his haggard face,
A smile that only lit his desolation.
Smiling, he sighed: “So soon, so soon, forgot?
Yet not for ever, for I know the end.
But I will tell thee all things from the first—
“As erst the many fountain'd vaults of heaven
Burst open on a world of giant sin,
So from far frost-bound regions of the North
Rushed the barbarians on the Roman world.
Came wolfish Vandal, came cold-stunted Hun,
Came Alaric, scourge of God, scourging a land
Of Roman majesty and Roman crime:
And that great ancient Empire of the West
Fell—and the Eastern rocked upon its base—
Till I arose, a Saviour in the land,
A strong progenitor of nation-good,
Warrior by nature, peasant monarch-sought:
I saved my country—and I beg my bread.
Thrace was my birth-place — champaign heaven blest,
Rich in broad water, rich in swelling crag,
And lustrous bank of forest precipice.
Oft when in youth, on sunlit mountain lawns,
All eagle-eyed I pierced the boundless blue,
Or, tranced beside the ever roaring sea,
Gazed on the wind-borne sheets of ragged foam—
I felt my great soul struggle in my breast
And pulse me onward unto larger deeds,
And slowly shoot into the perfect man.
But when I read of heroes, Homer sung,
God-men, who far on plains of Pergamus
Strode, triple-armed in panoply all gold,
Nor feared to cope with warrior deities,
But drove them bleeding to the splendrous heights
Of many-peaked Olympus whence they came—
I too, I said, will be a warrior chief,
And marshal hosts to death or victory,
And will be great among the sons of men.
Burst open on a world of giant sin,
So from far frost-bound regions of the North
Rushed the barbarians on the Roman world.
Came wolfish Vandal, came cold-stunted Hun,
63
Of Roman majesty and Roman crime:
And that great ancient Empire of the West
Fell—and the Eastern rocked upon its base—
Till I arose, a Saviour in the land,
A strong progenitor of nation-good,
Warrior by nature, peasant monarch-sought:
I saved my country—and I beg my bread.
Thrace was my birth-place — champaign heaven blest,
Rich in broad water, rich in swelling crag,
And lustrous bank of forest precipice.
Oft when in youth, on sunlit mountain lawns,
All eagle-eyed I pierced the boundless blue,
Or, tranced beside the ever roaring sea,
Gazed on the wind-borne sheets of ragged foam—
I felt my great soul struggle in my breast
And pulse me onward unto larger deeds,
And slowly shoot into the perfect man.
But when I read of heroes, Homer sung,
God-men, who far on plains of Pergamus
Strode, triple-armed in panoply all gold,
Nor feared to cope with warrior deities,
But drove them bleeding to the splendrous heights
Of many-peaked Olympus whence they came—
64
And marshal hosts to death or victory,
And will be great among the sons of men.
“So I arose, and girt myself for fight,
And was a soldier of the Emperor.
Then step and step I rose through great exploits,
Until men hailed me General of the East.
Then when on Dara rushed the Persian host,
Elate in pride of fancied victory,
I met them, warden of the city gates—
I fought, I conquered—I deserved my honor;
Not less than they who strove in days of old
Along far foam-girt Marathonian fields,
And checked the march of Eastern despotism,
And drove back Xerxes to his paradise,
And wrought themselves an everlasting name,
When all the corse-piled plain was pale with death—
Or they who, martyrs to their fatherland,
Champions of Europe, glory of old Greece,
Failed from the battle-shout at Salamis,
Sank in the shadows of Thermopylae.
And was a soldier of the Emperor.
Then step and step I rose through great exploits,
Until men hailed me General of the East.
Then when on Dara rushed the Persian host,
Elate in pride of fancied victory,
I met them, warden of the city gates—
I fought, I conquered—I deserved my honor;
Not less than they who strove in days of old
Along far foam-girt Marathonian fields,
And checked the march of Eastern despotism,
And drove back Xerxes to his paradise,
And wrought themselves an everlasting name,
When all the corse-piled plain was pale with death—
Or they who, martyrs to their fatherland,
Champions of Europe, glory of old Greece,
Failed from the battle-shout at Salamis,
Sank in the shadows of Thermopylae.
“Then, when a strife arose in Africa,
And, red in battle first-fruits, leapt the war,
And great Justinian sent his choicest troops,
And me, his choicest General,—I went,
I fought, I conquered; I deserved my honor—
Not less than he who once upon a time,
In those dim years of the great-storied past,
Stept on the surge-struck Carthaginian shores,
And drew her soul from the Phoenician queen,
And left her weltering on a funeral pyre,
And rooted out the pristine Latian tribes,
And was the founder of a royal race;
A race whose deeds shall shiver through the vast,
While the sun flames and the great waters roll,
And the wind roars from unknown solitudes,
And the strong mountains on their base endure;
Or he who, lusty in the lusty prime
Of Roman valour, razed the city gates
And blotted Carthage from the nation-roll,
And wrought for Rome a priceless victory.
And, red in battle first-fruits, leapt the war,
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And me, his choicest General,—I went,
I fought, I conquered; I deserved my honor—
Not less than he who once upon a time,
In those dim years of the great-storied past,
Stept on the surge-struck Carthaginian shores,
And drew her soul from the Phoenician queen,
And left her weltering on a funeral pyre,
And rooted out the pristine Latian tribes,
And was the founder of a royal race;
A race whose deeds shall shiver through the vast,
While the sun flames and the great waters roll,
And the wind roars from unknown solitudes,
And the strong mountains on their base endure;
Or he who, lusty in the lusty prime
Of Roman valour, razed the city gates
And blotted Carthage from the nation-roll,
And wrought for Rome a priceless victory.
“I, conqueror on the throne of Africa,
Dealt victor-justice to a humbled race,
And crushed the yet rebelling Gelimer,
And sailed triumphant to Byzantium;
And I was great among the sons of men.
Consul—a year sole Consul—every land
Knew me, and cringed an all-submissive neck
To the god-might of Belisarius.
Then, when Italia lay a wilderness,
Bared by the hurricane of civil war,
I crossed in hope the Adriatic blue,
Where emerald isles, inlaid in sapphire sea,
Gleam on the mariner, beached with rippled sand.
I crossed in hope, and I returned in glory;
For under the walls of old Parthenope
I fought, and, heralded by victory,
I carved a way to sometime royal Rome,
And, marching glorious to the Capitol,
Gave her once more a place among the nations.
Pent in the city by the unanimous might
Of fierce barbarians, with my own right hand
I wrought deliverance, wrought victory,
As he who, joying in his youth divine,
Strode all victorious to the farthest Ind,
And made the peoples know his sovereignty,
And was the monarch of the ringing world.
Dealt victor-justice to a humbled race,
And crushed the yet rebelling Gelimer,
And sailed triumphant to Byzantium;
And I was great among the sons of men.
Consul—a year sole Consul—every land
66
To the god-might of Belisarius.
Then, when Italia lay a wilderness,
Bared by the hurricane of civil war,
I crossed in hope the Adriatic blue,
Where emerald isles, inlaid in sapphire sea,
Gleam on the mariner, beached with rippled sand.
I crossed in hope, and I returned in glory;
For under the walls of old Parthenope
I fought, and, heralded by victory,
I carved a way to sometime royal Rome,
And, marching glorious to the Capitol,
Gave her once more a place among the nations.
Pent in the city by the unanimous might
Of fierce barbarians, with my own right hand
I wrought deliverance, wrought victory,
As he who, joying in his youth divine,
Strode all victorious to the farthest Ind,
And made the peoples know his sovereignty,
And was the monarch of the ringing world.
“How shall I tell of her, my pilot star,
Glorious adulteress, vile as beautiful,
Who not alone in plenitude of peace
Love-softened all this rugged warrior-heart,
But, ministrant on clamorous battle-plains,
Sated my spirit with a strange delight.
She, leagued in love with the Empress-courtezan,
Who swayed the counsels of a glutted spouse,
Whelmed me in irredeemable disgrace,
And fouled the lustre of untarnished act,
And summoned me from conquest to despair.
Long years I crept through shame unmerited,
Humbled in peace, all glorious in war,—
And mighty only on the battlefield.
At last, when all barbarian multitudes
Rallied upon the Eastern capital,
Justinian called me forth from obloquy,
Like that crisp-pated Quintus from the plough,
And bade me save my country; and I went
And chased their armies to the wilderness,
And wrought a strong redemption for the land.
He crowned me with all-noble recompense—
He met slight merit with benign reward—
He blinded me, and cast me forth to beg—
Poor fool !—or little recking future fame.
Glorious adulteress, vile as beautiful,
Who not alone in plenitude of peace
Love-softened all this rugged warrior-heart,
But, ministrant on clamorous battle-plains,
Sated my spirit with a strange delight.
67
Who swayed the counsels of a glutted spouse,
Whelmed me in irredeemable disgrace,
And fouled the lustre of untarnished act,
And summoned me from conquest to despair.
Long years I crept through shame unmerited,
Humbled in peace, all glorious in war,—
And mighty only on the battlefield.
At last, when all barbarian multitudes
Rallied upon the Eastern capital,
Justinian called me forth from obloquy,
Like that crisp-pated Quintus from the plough,
And bade me save my country; and I went
And chased their armies to the wilderness,
And wrought a strong redemption for the land.
He crowned me with all-noble recompense—
He met slight merit with benign reward—
He blinded me, and cast me forth to beg—
Poor fool !—or little recking future fame.
“Though slowly staggering in the vale of years,
I shudder not at that all victor Death,
Nor quail at fathomless eternity.
No storied tomb, up-reared on hero-bones,
No great memorial of greater dead,
Shall signal ruined Belisarius.
Yet much I joy, seeing my backward years
Loom deep into the dead mist of the Past,
That I repent not aught which I have done.
I have not worked my fall, but Destiny
And that serene pre-eminence of God.
Yet this I know, and with calamity
Grows trust, and all unshaken confidence,
That though men hold me poor, and blind, and mean,
Cast down from honour, hopeless, desolate;
Yet, in those generations far to come,
When they that spurn me from their palaces
Shall slumber with the unremembered dead,
My fame shall broaden in the stream of time,
Wide-circling from my death-plunge, and a rumour,
And glorious memory of glorious deeds—
My deeds—my deeds—shall ring through after time.”
I shudder not at that all victor Death,
Nor quail at fathomless eternity.
No storied tomb, up-reared on hero-bones,
No great memorial of greater dead,
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Yet much I joy, seeing my backward years
Loom deep into the dead mist of the Past,
That I repent not aught which I have done.
I have not worked my fall, but Destiny
And that serene pre-eminence of God.
Yet this I know, and with calamity
Grows trust, and all unshaken confidence,
That though men hold me poor, and blind, and mean,
Cast down from honour, hopeless, desolate;
Yet, in those generations far to come,
When they that spurn me from their palaces
Shall slumber with the unremembered dead,
My fame shall broaden in the stream of time,
Wide-circling from my death-plunge, and a rumour,
And glorious memory of glorious deeds—
My deeds—my deeds—shall ring through after time.”
69
CENTENARY POEM
I
He passed, our wonder, our regret;Two generations since have yielded breath,
But bright remembrance glows among us yet,
And glory broadens from the plunge of death.
So sure a fame the sacred poet waits,
That though unreverenced he cross the gates
70
He murmurs not, content to see
His praise beyond obscurity,
His glory out of gloom;
Nor fitly charges equal fate, but knows
That through conjectured ages far to be,
Meet honour fails not from his tomb, but grows
To plenitude with just posterity.
II
So is it with that memory we setMore fair than any fame to Scotsmen yet;
For neither passed he in mid storm of praise,
As Romulus in thunder, from the throng,
Nor led in honoured ease melodious days,
And from his fulness shook the land with song:
But through stern toil of unrejoicing youth
He reared a spirit open-eyed to truth,
Nor baser ever through calamity,
But keen from deepening care to see
The broad world glad in good, and misery
Prelude and germ of fair eternity.
III
No station his of wealth or honoured birth,No fame ancestral whence to stir the earth,
Nought save his manhood and high work;
71
Wherewith all freedom rings,
Of force to scatter to the wind
False pride which station brings;
“Man's exaltation is not that he rules,
Nor can accrue just honour unto fools;
The good is noblest of his kind,
The poet more than kings.”
IV
Therefore his people glories in his birth,And under many a morn his name is great,
And we from many a realm of earth
His honour celebrate
Who forced not song for petty praise,
Nor in feigned passion raved for sympathy,
But lightened into earnest lays,
In truth and rare simplicity;
And knowing man to man is kin,
Sang loud to brothers far and near,
And stood in strength that rose within
Unwarped by praise, unchecked by fear.
V
O silent shapes athwart the darkening sky!Magnificence of many-folded hills,
Where the dead mist hangs and the lone hawks cry,
72
O lucid lakes! serene from shore to shore,
With promontories set of solemn pines,
Broad mirrors which the pale stars tremble o'er,
Deep-drawn among the misty mountain lines;
O holy hearths, intemerate of crime!
O tale of martyrs by the flickering sod!
O righteous race, in stedfast toil sublime!
O noblest poem, “Let us worship God!”
Ye taught him, shaping truthful days;
Of you he told to men, for he
From wayside reeds sweet tone could raise
More dear than full accord of symphony,
Knowing that whatsoe'er the poet sings,
Of prototyped in nature or in man,
Moves deeply, though it touch not wrath of kings
Or frantic battle-van.
VI
But most intent the people hears,Tranced to silence, thrilled to tears,
When the joys of love and fears
Fall in music on their ears;
73
Waking hope and high desire,
And, to introspective eyes,
Granting glimpse of Heaven's fire.
VII
Nor scorns he such delight, whose heart and eyeAre tempered to the truth of poesy,
Nor following baser natures, would degrade
Aught from that honour which the Eternal made;
Nor ranks this frame the soul's offence,
Nor lovely form the slave of sense;
But knowing good is beauty, hath believed
Beauty is also good, nor oft deceived;
Yea, such a surge of life his pulses fills,
And so abounding passion through him thrills,
That with fierce cries for sympathy,
With longing and with agony,
The glory of his thought goes forth to greet
All fair, though unregarding, he shall meet,
And oft with price the mean endues,
The ignoble holds for rare;
And wooing bright imagined hues
A phantom loveliness pursues,
But knows too late an equal otherwhere.
74
VIII
So in deep ambrosial nightFalls a star from heaven's height;
Mad for earth, a sliding spark
Down the deadness of the dark,
Falleth, findeth his desire,
Loseth his celestial fire,
Quenched to iron, like his love,
For her face is fair above;
But within her heart is stone,
Adamant and chalcedon.
IX
But he for whom three peoples mourn,On many a breeze of madness borne,
At many a fancied loss forlorn,
Yet soon as stedfast will began,
And life through firmer manhood ran,
To one prime passion nobly true,
In bliss, but most in sorrow, knew
A woman's perfect love, best boon to man.
X
So lived he, fearing God; his waysWere dim with penury, uncheered of praise;
Yet not without a noble work begun—
One cry for truth against the might of wrong;
75
On that grim prince who rules the world,
The bright defiance of a lightning song;
O not without a noble work begun,
Failed he in sorrow from the sun,
Fared he to tell the deeds that he had done,
Leaving his people, to the latest days,
A heritage of unforgotten lays.
XI
But nearer aye the hounds of Ruin bayed,And Error was upon him, that he strayed,
And close at heart remorseful Phrensy preyed,
And pitiless Disaster ran him down;
Till mute Death took him, weary, undismayed,
And calm in hallowed earth his bones were laid;
His the toil, be his the crown!
O great heart by low passions swayed!
O high soul by base cares assayed!
O silence, silence, never to be broken,
Till some dread word from the white throne be spoken!
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XII
Ah! yet we trust he findeth end to ill,Nor in deep peace remembereth misery,
Who in the heart of his loved land is still,
Between the mountains and the clamorous sea.
There all night the deeps are loud,
Billow far to billow roaring,
But he, sleeping in his shroud,
Heareth not the waters pouring.
Yea, though the sun shall wheel a splendrous form
Unseen, above the dim cloud-cataract,
Though lightnings glimmer to the rainy tract,
And all the land be wan with storm,
He knows not, wont of old to see,
In high thought severed from his kind,
Beyond the wrack Divinity,
Jehovah on the wind.
XIII
O story sadder than dethronèd kings—A poet lost to earth!
Yea, though his land in plenty sings,
Forgetful of her dearth,
77
And willing fealty to an equal state,
And though her commerce on all ocean thrives,
And every province swarms with happy lives,
Yet weep the great heart hidden in the sod;
All else to man through faithful toil arrives—
The poet straight from God.
78
THE DEATH OF SOCRATES
The day was come: its earliest morn had brought
His true disciples to the teacher's cell,
Who gathering round the master of their thought
Wept him they loved so well.
His true disciples to the teacher's cell,
Who gathering round the master of their thought
Wept him they loved so well.
Yea moving blindly in much heaviness,
And left amid perplexities alone,
They mourned as men in a great wilderness
Mourn when their guide is gone.
And left amid perplexities alone,
They mourned as men in a great wilderness
Mourn when their guide is gone.
Remembering how, without reward or praise,
That temperate truth had drawn the hope of Greece,
Leading to wisdom,—pleasant are her ways,
And all her paths are peace:
That temperate truth had drawn the hope of Greece,
Leading to wisdom,—pleasant are her ways,
And all her paths are peace:
79
But sternly sent the arrogant to school,
And on false-seeming set the brand of shame;
Looking beyond the pomp of petty rule,
To whence true honour came.
And on false-seeming set the brand of shame;
Looking beyond the pomp of petty rule,
To whence true honour came.
So men arraigned the saint of blasphemy;
The sage arraigned they of corrupting youth;
Arraigned the saint whose life was purity,
The sage whose speech was truth.
The sage arraigned they of corrupting youth;
Arraigned the saint whose life was purity,
The sage whose speech was truth.
But rather in that chance he did rejoice,
Yea, set to blessings that calamity;
And doubting nothing made heroic choice,
As he had lived to die.
Yea, set to blessings that calamity;
And doubting nothing made heroic choice,
As he had lived to die.
Nor bated aught of blameless innocence,
Nor courted any pity of the strong;
But dauntless ever in a great defence
He cried against the wrong.
Nor courted any pity of the strong;
But dauntless ever in a great defence
He cried against the wrong.
Nor might he not foreshadow One to be,
Dragged downward by the race He came to save,
Through bitterer scorn, unjuster contumely,
Down to a grander grave.
Dragged downward by the race He came to save,
Through bitterer scorn, unjuster contumely,
Down to a grander grave.
Or as that cloud of faithful witnesses
Marched cheerfully on torture and on sword,
Expecting after any agonies
The coming of the Lord:
Marched cheerfully on torture and on sword,
80
The coming of the Lord:
So looked he on his judges, witting well
Their sorest penalty must bring release
In such an end as theirs who nobly fell
Before the gates of Greece,
Their sorest penalty must bring release
In such an end as theirs who nobly fell
Before the gates of Greece,
Who passed in blood without applause or crown
From that loud day to where we cannot see:
Such loss their gain, and such defeat renown,
Such death their victory.
From that loud day to where we cannot see:
Such loss their gain, and such defeat renown,
Such death their victory.
Likewise even now did his own peace rebuke
In prison his movèd friends for fruitless fears;
Then spake the sage, when that accustomed look
Had set a truce to tears:
In prison his movèd friends for fruitless fears;
Then spake the sage, when that accustomed look
Had set a truce to tears:
“Upon their death the silver swans rejoice,
Meeting that God to whom their lives belong,
And pour the glory of their treasured voice
In floods of jubilant song:
Meeting that God to whom their lives belong,
And pour the glory of their treasured voice
In floods of jubilant song:
“Shall I not too be glad, who pass to range
In some blest place with the great dead, my peers,
Proceeding through all form of nobler change
Down unimagined years?
In some blest place with the great dead, my peers,
81
Down unimagined years?
“For I believe I am not wholly dust,
But somewhere, somewhere, with diviner powers,
They greatly live, the spirits of the just,
A larger life than ours.
But somewhere, somewhere, with diviner powers,
They greatly live, the spirits of the just,
A larger life than ours.
“For we abiding in infirmity
In fleshly tabernacles groan forlorn,
Expecting till on this mortality
It break, the perfect morn.
In fleshly tabernacles groan forlorn,
Expecting till on this mortality
It break, the perfect morn.
“Yea, as the ocean-monsters, leagues from land,
Of upper splendours live unwittingly,
Wallowing a black bulk over boundless sand,
Deep in the gloom of sea;
Of upper splendours live unwittingly,
Wallowing a black bulk over boundless sand,
Deep in the gloom of sea;
“We to the blessed gods are such as they;
In doubt and consternation draw we breath,
Sorrow our joy, and darkness is our day,
Yea, and our life is death.
In doubt and consternation draw we breath,
Sorrow our joy, and darkness is our day,
Yea, and our life is death.
“But when at length release from flesh is given,
From doubt, and folly, and desire, and fears,
Then shall the voiceful presences of heaven
Ring on bewildered ears;
From doubt, and folly, and desire, and fears,
Then shall the voiceful presences of heaven
Ring on bewildered ears;
“Then shall the true earth open on our sight,
And the true firmament above us shine,
And dwelling ever in that perfect light
We too shall be divine.”
And the true firmament above us shine,
82
We too shall be divine.”
He spake as babes who know not what they say,
But if of men, O Lord, be good or bad,
Then, for he did desire to see Thy day,
He seeth, and is glad.
But if of men, O Lord, be good or bad,
Then, for he did desire to see Thy day,
He seeth, and is glad.
He ceased, nor wept; he drank the cup, nor quailed;
The jailor stern stood softened at his side;
Then, as the force within him slowly failed,
He laid him down and died.
The jailor stern stood softened at his side;
Then, as the force within him slowly failed,
He laid him down and died.
Nor did he at the last at all recoil,
Nor railed at all upon malignant foes,
But cheerfully seemed passing from long toil
To some serene repose.
Nor railed at all upon malignant foes,
But cheerfully seemed passing from long toil
To some serene repose.
And o'er his death a smile stole silently,
Telling of constant calm, of holy trust;
For who shall wait with purer heart than he
The rising of the just?
Telling of constant calm, of holy trust;
For who shall wait with purer heart than he
The rising of the just?
ΕΠΙΓΡΑΜΜΑ
Not any builded shrine, since breath began,Was half so sacred, stranger, as this sod;
For underneath is the most righteous man
That ever knew not God.M.
85
THE PRINCE OF WALES AT THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON
Hic vir, hic est.
I
Behold he reared a race and ruled them not,And he shall rule a race he did not rear:
Warrior and prince, their former feud forgot,
Have found a meeting here.
II
And as of all that breathes the eldest birthSometime in ages out of human ken
Lived in the glory of the primal earth
A life unknown to men;
86
III
And in their time they perished as was meet,They perished each as he had lived, alone,
And one or two of them beneath our feet
Have stiffened into stone;
IV
And one is standing under iron skies,Beyond the range of life, the rule of law,
Locked in the arms of everlasting ice,
A wonder and an awe.
V
With such a marvel looked he on the tombOf that the rebel chief, forgiven at length,
With such a reverence pondered he the doom
Of that departed strength.
VI
And as he thought on him that lay below,Of what a mighty one the bones were dust,
Surely by some strange sense he seemed to know
The presence of the Just.
VII
Surely he could not his own thought control,But mute in expectation bent his head:
87
Spake to him from the dead?
VIII
And thereunto he listened wondering,While thus it said or thus it seemed to say,
Live with the light and, slowly vanishing,
Dead with the dying day.
IX
I crave no pardon, Prince, that led by meThis land revolted from thy fathers' rod:
It was not I that set the people free,
It was not I, but God.
X
Nor always shall a race with one accordYield due allegiance to a foreign throne,
No, nor shall always bow them to a lord
Whom they have never known.
XI
Neither can one consent for ever bindParent and offspring, but they shall at length
A closer union in disunion find,
In separation strength.
XII
Therefore at last in wrath the land arose,And gathered frenzy from contest begun,
88
Fought till the fight was won.
XIII
But through their tumult was I still the same,And with one watchword kept the land in awe,
For ever stedfast to the single name
Of liberty and law.
XIV
Then as at length an end was put to strife,And freedom born from our calamity,
And the long labour of heroic life
Had taught us victory:
XV
By many a wild wood, many a river fair,Where stately Susquehanna sweeps along,
And where the nightingale on Delaware
Shrills everlasting song:
XVI
And where the sun on broad Missouri sleeps,Or loud St. Lawrence speeds him sted-fastly,
And where the strength of Niagara leaps
In thunder to the sea:
89
XVII
Or those that sail Huronian deeps upon,Or tread Ontario's solitary shore;
And all the peoples west to Oregon,
And north to Labrador,
XVIII
At length delivered from a foreign yoke,And finding fair conclusion to foul strife,
The stately cities filled with nobler folk,
And leapt to lustier life.
XIX
Yea from long tutelage risen a man at lengthThe mighty land took courage mightily,
To grow for evermore from strength to strength,
For evermore be free.
XX
And as the saviour of a royal race,In ruddy gold in wrought divinely, saw
The Just at Council in a holy place,
And Cato gave them law:
XXI
Even so for many a country had I care,And many a delegate obeyed my word;
No thought of wealth, no thought of birth was there,
Their greatest was their lord.
90
XXII
Yea, for I sought their profit as my own,But in false ways their baser captains trod:
Each loved his own advantage: I alone
My people and my God.
XXIII
Therefore I ruled them till my work was done,And ordered all their matters as was best:
And when at length my race was nobly run
I entered into rest.
XXIV
Simple I died as when I had my birth,Unsoiled by lucre and unwarped by fame;
Leaving for ever to the sons of earth
My nation and my name.
XXV
In silence bent the prince an awful head,In solemn silence turned him from the spot:
He heard the spirit of the mighty dead,
He heard and answered not.
XXVI
He left him to his glory and his rest,Where ever, over-rained and over-shone,
Beneath the glimmer of the waning west
Shall that great ghost sleep on.
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XXVII
But he returned him to his heritageO'er many lands and many seas between,
And found the ruler of a reverent age
In majesty the Queen.
XXVIII
Who knowing well what such a love can do,And what to her a mother's care became,
The future monarch of our race unto
Herself hath shown the same.
XXIX
With such a rule her firstborn did she rearTo tread the ways wherein his fathers trod:
So waxed his wisdom in the single fear
Of Justice and of God.
XXX
Such life of old the sturdy Sabine knew,And Romulus was reared from such a home:
And with such sons to great dominion grew
The queen of cities, Rome.
XXXI
Likewise up-treasuring for time to beTheir future lord the flower of England saw
The wisdom of prophetic history,
The legend of the law.
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XXXII
Yea they beheld him leading fearless daysIn modest confidence and manly truth,
For ever winning with his royal ways
The heart of all the youth,
XXXIII
Unconsciously for ever compassingA reign no turbulence shall think to move,
For no prerogative can fence a king
Like to his people's love.
XXXIV
But when the time was ripe she bade him go,Nor to his ancient halls return again,
Till he might wander far, and widely know
The ways and homes of men:
XXXV
For surely such a science well befitsThe son who springs with half the earth his own,
And with more honour such a sovereign sits
Upon a reverenced throne.
XXXVI
Not Alexander led so far his hostsAcross the earth, a never travelled way,
Beyond strange streams and o'er astonished coasts
Bound for the breaking day,
93
XXXVII
Nor drave so far the victor youth divineThe linked tigers of his leafy car,
Nor did the robber of the royal kine
His course extend so far.
XXXVIII
Albeit he caught the brazen-footed deer,And laid the curse of Erymanthus low,
And shook at Lerna o'er the affrighted mere
The terror of his bow.
XXXIX
Hail flower of Europe, heir of half the earth,Descendant noble of a noble line!
Blest none from heaven with so bright a birth,
So fair a fate as thine.
XL
Not at thy coming is vague terror shedFrom hideous oracles and homes of guile,
Not at thy coming roar with nameless dread
The myriad mouths of Nile,
XLI
But for thy coming doth thy people waitWith stedfast confidence and hope serene;
And such a king expect to celebrate
As even now a queen:
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XLII
And to thy coming looks whate'er of goodIs anywise oppressed or overworn,
Or anywhere for lack of hardihood
Is subject unto scorn:
XLIII
Albeit for thee be little left to do,And after noble mother noble son
This task alone shall find, to carry through
The work so well begun.
XLIV
For such thy mission, prince, and such thy praise,To war for ever with the powers of wrong,
To lift the humble into happier days,
Yea, and to crush the strong.
XLV
Oh might so long a life to me remainAnd such a sacred strength in me increase,
To tell of thee, the wonder of thy reign,
Of honour and of peace.
XLVI
Oh might I see, nor only thus presage,The mighty months at length begin to roll,
And feel the glory of a grander age
Strike on my startled soul.
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XLVII
Nor me should Thracian Orpheus vanquish thenNor Linus, glad in mother or in sire,
No, nor Apollo strike more sweet to men
The music of his lyre.
XLVIII
Long time, O Prince, in honour hold thine own,With life song-worthy of all bards that sing,
And in thy season failing, leave thy throne
To many a gracious king:
XLIX
Until all storm at length be overpast,And every land in darkness lying still
Be filled with light, and every race at last
Learn their Redeemer's will:
L
Till every wandering sheep have turned him home,And shaped to pruning-hooks be every sword,
And all the kingdoms of the earth become
The kingdom of the Lord.
96
THE DISTRESS IN LANCASHIRE
Γνωθι νυν ταν Οιδιποδα σοφιαν. ει γαρ τις οζους οξυτομω πελεκει
εξερειψαι κεν μεγαλας δρυος, αισχυνοι δε ϝοι θαητον ειδος:
και φθινοκαρπος εοισα διδοι ψαφον περ' αυτας,
ει ποτε χειμεριον πυρ εξικηται λοισθιον:
η συν ορθαις κιονεσσιν δεσποσυναισιν ερειδομενα
μοχθον αλλοις αμφεπει δυστανον εν τειχεσιν
εον ερημωσαισα χωρον.
Pindar, P. iv. 262 sqq.
εξερειψαι κεν μεγαλας δρυος, αισχυνοι δε ϝοι θαητον ειδος:
και φθινοκαρπος εοισα διδοι ψαφον περ' αυτας,
ει ποτε χειμεριον πυρ εξικηται λοισθιον:
η συν ορθαις κιονεσσιν δεσποσυναισιν ερειδομενα
μοχθον αλλοις αμφεπει δυστανον εν τειχεσιν
εον ερημωσαισα χωρον.
Pindar, P. iv. 262 sqq.
How long, o Lord of sabaoth, how long?
wilt Thou for ever vex the earth with war?
for lo a nation riseth great and strong,
with peopled cities and with fields of corn,
rich fields of standing corn, fine flour of wheat,
and in their pride they boast: we will not fear,
we never shall be moved: and some time
their speech Thou sufferest, but when at length
Thou hast prepared Tophet deep and large
and piled it with brimstone and much wood;
then settest Thou Thine ensign on the hills,
Thy trump Thou blowest, and the peoples hear.
throw wide, throw wide thy forests, Lebanon,
lament and mourn, high place of Shigionoth,
for leanness falleth on thy palaces,
on all thine oaks and on thy cedars fire.
wilt Thou for ever vex the earth with war?
for lo a nation riseth great and strong,
with peopled cities and with fields of corn,
rich fields of standing corn, fine flour of wheat,
and in their pride they boast: we will not fear,
we never shall be moved: and some time
their speech Thou sufferest, but when at length
Thou hast prepared Tophet deep and large
and piled it with brimstone and much wood;
97
Thy trump Thou blowest, and the peoples hear.
throw wide, throw wide thy forests, Lebanon,
lament and mourn, high place of Shigionoth,
for leanness falleth on thy palaces,
on all thine oaks and on thy cedars fire.
O mighty nations, latest hope of earth,
why could ye not in one accord for aye
work out your destinies thro' faith and fear?
or if ye needs must sever, and so close
ye cling, ye southern realms, to that stern law,
your iron law of master and of slave,
bloodless at least let such a parting be,
of friends and not of foemen! hear us cry,
oh hear us, from one source our blood we draw,
sheathe, sheathe your swords my kinsmen!
Yet indeed
tho' other tribes be rancorous, other lands
unkind, we must not leave our ancient way,
tho' many a voice be loud in many a hall,
and loud the clamour of new-fangled men,
preaching advantage, but indeed we know
a nobler mistress, and her name is Law.
why could ye not in one accord for aye
work out your destinies thro' faith and fear?
or if ye needs must sever, and so close
ye cling, ye southern realms, to that stern law,
your iron law of master and of slave,
bloodless at least let such a parting be,
of friends and not of foemen! hear us cry,
oh hear us, from one source our blood we draw,
sheathe, sheathe your swords my kinsmen!
Yet indeed
tho' other tribes be rancorous, other lands
unkind, we must not leave our ancient way,
tho' many a voice be loud in many a hall,
and loud the clamour of new-fangled men,
preaching advantage, but indeed we know
a nobler mistress, and her name is Law.
So sometimes in a place of riotous youth,
of riotous youth unclean and foolish play,
grows one with few to mark him, pure of face,
well-born and gently nurtured, neither lost
in selfish leisure, nor with endless toil
neglecting for a guerdon of slight praise,
for paltry praise the chief concerns of man:
but more and more large grace descends from God,
and more and more his fellows hold to him;
and all the demons of the poisoned air,
Conceit, and Scorn, and foolish Heresy,
him when they look on, how he walks with Truth,
they harm him not, for Peace hath made him hers,
Peace at the end, and Joy, and fuller fame.
of riotous youth unclean and foolish play,
grows one with few to mark him, pure of face,
98
in selfish leisure, nor with endless toil
neglecting for a guerdon of slight praise,
for paltry praise the chief concerns of man:
but more and more large grace descends from God,
and more and more his fellows hold to him;
and all the demons of the poisoned air,
Conceit, and Scorn, and foolish Heresy,
him when they look on, how he walks with Truth,
they harm him not, for Peace hath made him hers,
Peace at the end, and Joy, and fuller fame.
So hath this people grown, and ever held
such name among the nations: not for us
to tread the footsteps of eternal Rome,
high on the fallen necks of conquered kings:
nor yet to chaunt along our roaring ways
maronian echoes of the prince of song:
nay, not in these we glory, but to stand
among tumultuous nations steadfastly,
set for one purpose, patient to the end,
Christ in our hearts and in our borders peace.
such name among the nations: not for us
to tread the footsteps of eternal Rome,
high on the fallen necks of conquered kings:
nor yet to chaunt along our roaring ways
maronian echoes of the prince of song:
nay, not in these we glory, but to stand
among tumultuous nations steadfastly,
set for one purpose, patient to the end,
Christ in our hearts and in our borders peace.
Therefore we hold aloof and watch the strife,
therefore we suffer; and to happy ports
no longer do their wonted armaments
spread wide the silver of their sails from far:
hushed half our factories, and half our folk
cold in the cheerless highways want for bread.
therefore we suffer; and to happy ports
no longer do their wonted armaments
spread wide the silver of their sails from far:
99
cold in the cheerless highways want for bread.
There surely is no sorrow worse than this,
to waste in silence, seeing crafty hands
lose half their cunning, now that none will hire,
feeling strong limbs grow slacker, sober brains
fire with the restless flame of penury,
nor any hope remaining but slow death,
some short sad life and some ignoble end.
for he who going down to the sea in ships
among the tempests founders far away,
he hath at any rate one noble hour,
between strong winds and water rendering
a solemn spirit to the night and God:
and he who falleth as so many fall,
who in the eager van of armed hosts
shot painfully lies perishing alone,
even he with one great thought can soothe his soul,
one prayer for freedom and his father-land;
but whoso perisheth slowly day by day,
ghost of himself, spectator of his doom,
whereunto is he likened, or to what
can I compare him, save to that scape-goat
whom three days out into the wilderness
the seed of Abram sent to bear their sin:
but far thro' Edom strayed the bleater on,
by Ar and Nophah and by Nahaliel,
by Horeb and the heaps of Abarim,
unwitting, innocent, and sought in vain
old pastures; is there grass in Hazeroth,
or sweet fresh water in the salt dead sea?
to waste in silence, seeing crafty hands
lose half their cunning, now that none will hire,
feeling strong limbs grow slacker, sober brains
fire with the restless flame of penury,
nor any hope remaining but slow death,
some short sad life and some ignoble end.
for he who going down to the sea in ships
among the tempests founders far away,
he hath at any rate one noble hour,
between strong winds and water rendering
a solemn spirit to the night and God:
and he who falleth as so many fall,
who in the eager van of armed hosts
shot painfully lies perishing alone,
even he with one great thought can soothe his soul,
one prayer for freedom and his father-land;
but whoso perisheth slowly day by day,
ghost of himself, spectator of his doom,
whereunto is he likened, or to what
can I compare him, save to that scape-goat
whom three days out into the wilderness
the seed of Abram sent to bear their sin:
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by Ar and Nophah and by Nahaliel,
by Horeb and the heaps of Abarim,
unwitting, innocent, and sought in vain
old pastures; is there grass in Hazeroth,
or sweet fresh water in the salt dead sea?
But was she careless, England, of her sons?
not so, nor thus we know her; long ago
when Erin hungered, did not she supply?
yea when the frugal peoples of the east
thro' scarcity their old content forbore,
she sent, she succoured them, and not in vain
from far Benares and the plains of Ind
had ancient Ganges reared a hoary head,
to tell of wailing on his happy banks
by night, and corpses carried to the sea.
not so, nor thus we know her, but again
she sent, she succoured, none was found too great
to pity scarcities of meaner men,
and none so poor but from his penury
some mite he stole for mercy and for God.
not so, nor thus we know her; long ago
when Erin hungered, did not she supply?
yea when the frugal peoples of the east
thro' scarcity their old content forbore,
she sent, she succoured them, and not in vain
from far Benares and the plains of Ind
had ancient Ganges reared a hoary head,
to tell of wailing on his happy banks
by night, and corpses carried to the sea.
not so, nor thus we know her, but again
she sent, she succoured, none was found too great
to pity scarcities of meaner men,
and none so poor but from his penury
some mite he stole for mercy and for God.
A richer harvest hence, than when sometimes
relentless leaping fire hath caught and holds
the housed treasure of the merchant's toil;
and many a trader, trading never more,
is mad with ruin, but the careless crowd
at such a sight is drunken, as with wine;
for lo a fiery heat is in the air,
fierce heat in air and lurid light in heaven;
and down the silent river-reaches wide
those squandered argosies of precious oil,
new-fraught with death, float flaming to the sea.
a richer harvest hence, nor those alone
are blest who sow, nor those alone who reap;
but linked with kindly effort kindly thought
draws close the loving bonds of man with men.
relentless leaping fire hath caught and holds
the housed treasure of the merchant's toil;
and many a trader, trading never more,
is mad with ruin, but the careless crowd
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for lo a fiery heat is in the air,
fierce heat in air and lurid light in heaven;
and down the silent river-reaches wide
those squandered argosies of precious oil,
new-fraught with death, float flaming to the sea.
a richer harvest hence, nor those alone
are blest who sow, nor those alone who reap;
but linked with kindly effort kindly thought
draws close the loving bonds of man with men.
Remember these, o Lord, when thou sometime
shalt visit with fierce wrath and flaming fire
this unrepentant people for their sin.
remember these, o Lord, for rarely now
cease we from serving Mammon; everywhere
false prophets have arisen who know not Thee,
wolves in sheep's clothing, spoilers of the fold:
to them we hearken; yea, tho' one should stand,
tho' one inspired stood in a sacred place
and spake bold words and prophesied the end,
we should not hear him; surely he would pipe
without our dancing; he would mourn to us
whereat we should not weep. and yet sometime
he in accomplished season should appear
wise with a certain meaning. such a fate
was his, the last of Titans, for to him,
for many times to him, nor once alone,
his mother Honour and his mother Earth,
in several names the one identity,
spake clearly of the sorrow that should come:
yea and he knew it, yea and long ago
hath he considered and contrived the end.
shalt visit with fierce wrath and flaming fire
this unrepentant people for their sin.
remember these, o Lord, for rarely now
cease we from serving Mammon; everywhere
false prophets have arisen who know not Thee,
wolves in sheep's clothing, spoilers of the fold:
to them we hearken; yea, tho' one should stand,
tho' one inspired stood in a sacred place
and spake bold words and prophesied the end,
we should not hear him; surely he would pipe
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whereat we should not weep. and yet sometime
he in accomplished season should appear
wise with a certain meaning. such a fate
was his, the last of Titans, for to him,
for many times to him, nor once alone,
his mother Honour and his mother Earth,
in several names the one identity,
spake clearly of the sorrow that should come:
yea and he knew it, yea and long ago
hath he considered and contrived the end.
Yet not in our days, if Thou wilt, o Lord,
not in our sons' days let that reckoning be!
a little longer may Thy grace be given,
a little more Thy Spirit strive with men:
Jah of Jeshurun, be our Refuge still,
spread wide beneath us, Everlasting Arms:
yea, as for that stern priest by Chebar's stream,
in solemn vision and clear prophecy,
dry bones Thou didst inform, Great Power of God,
so come again from the four winds, o Breath,
and breathe upon these slain that they may live!
not in our sons' days let that reckoning be!
a little longer may Thy grace be given,
a little more Thy Spirit strive with men:
Jah of Jeshurun, be our Refuge still,
spread wide beneath us, Everlasting Arms:
yea, as for that stern priest by Chebar's stream,
in solemn vision and clear prophecy,
dry bones Thou didst inform, Great Power of God,
so come again from the four winds, o Breath,
and breathe upon these slain that they may live!
| Collected Poems: With Autobiographical and Critical Fragments | |