 | Ballads & Songs |  |
1
TO MY FRIEND
What is between us two, we know:Shake hands and let the whole world go.
2
TO MY ENEMY
Unwilling friend, let not your spite abate:Help me with scorn, and strengthen me with hate.
3
TO THE NEW WOMEN
Free to look at fact,
Free to come and go,
Free to think and act,
Now you surely know
The wrongs of womanhead
At last are fairly dead.
Free to come and go,
Free to think and act,
Now you surely know
The wrongs of womanhead
At last are fairly dead.
Abler than man to vex,
Less able to be good,
Fiercer in your sex,
Wilder in your mood,
Seeking—who knows what?
About the world you grope:
Some of you have thought
Man may be your hope.
Less able to be good,
Fiercer in your sex,
Wilder in your mood,
4
About the world you grope:
Some of you have thought
Man may be your hope.
Soon again you'll see,
Love and love alone,
As simple as can be,
Can make this life atone.
Love and love alone,
As simple as can be,
Can make this life atone.
Be bold and yet be bold,
But be not overbold,
Although the knell be toll'd
Of the tyranny of old.
But be not overbold,
Although the knell be toll'd
Of the tyranny of old.
And meet your splendid doom,
On heaven-scaling wings,
Women, from whose bright womb
The radiant future springs!
On heaven-scaling wings,
Women, from whose bright womb
The radiant future springs!
5
TO THE NEW MEN
Heat the furnace hot;
Smelt the things of thought
Into dross and dew;
Mould the world anew.
Smelt the things of thought
Into dross and dew;
Mould the world anew.
More than earth and sea
Is a heart and eye:
Gird yourselves, and try
All the powers that be.
Is a heart and eye:
Gird yourselves, and try
All the powers that be.
Wicked, cease at once
Troubling; wearied eyes,
Rest you now, while suns
Dawn and moons arise.
Troubling; wearied eyes,
Rest you now, while suns
Dawn and moons arise.
6
'Stablish heaven to-day;
Cleanse the beast-marked brow;
Wipe all tears away:
Do it—do it now!
Cleanse the beast-marked brow;
Wipe all tears away:
Do it—do it now!
Love, and hope, and know:
Man—you must adore him:
Let the whole past go:
Think God's thought before Him.
Man—you must adore him:
Let the whole past go:
Think God's thought before Him.
Knowledge is power? Above
All else, knowledge is love.
All else, knowledge is love.
Heat the furnace hot:
Smelt the world-old thought
Into dross and dew;
Mould the earth anew.
Smelt the world-old thought
Into dross and dew;
Mould the earth anew.
7
A BALLAD IN BLANK VERSE OF THE MAKING OF A POET
His father's house looked out across a firth
Broad-bosomed like a mere, beside a town
Far in the North, where Time could take his ease,
And Change hold holiday; where Old and New
Weltered upon the border of the world.
Broad-bosomed like a mere, beside a town
Far in the North, where Time could take his ease,
And Change hold holiday; where Old and New
Weltered upon the border of the world.
‘Oh now,’ he thought—a youth whose sultry eyes,
Bold brow and wanton mouth were not all lust,
But haunted from within and from without
By memories, visions, hopes, divine desires—
‘Now may my life beat out upon this shore
A prouder music than the winds and waves
Can compass in their haughtiest moods. I need
No world more spacious than the region here:
The foam-embroidered firth, a purple path
For argosies that still on pinions speed,
Or fiery-hearted cleave with iron limbs
And bows precipitous the pliant sea;
The sloping shores that fringe the velvet tides
With heavy bullion and with golden lace
Of restless pebble woven and fine spun sand;
The villages that sleep the winter through,
And, wakening with the spring, keep festival
All summer and all autumn: this grey town
That pipes the morning up before the lark
With shrieking steam, and from a hundred stalks
Lacquers the sooty sky; where hammers clang
On iron hulls, and cranes in harbours creak
Rattle and swing, whole cargoes on their necks;
Where men sweat gold that others hoard or spend,
And lurk like vermin in their narrow streets:
This old grey town, this firth, the further strand
Spangled with hamlets, and the wooded steeps,
Whose rocky tops behind each other press,
Fantastically carved like antique helms
High-hung in heaven's cloudy armoury,
Is world enough for me. Here daily dawn
Burns through the smoky east; with fire-shod feet
The sun treads heaven, and steps from hill to hill
Downward before the night that still pursues
His crimson wake; here winter plies his craft,
Soldering the years with ice; here spring appears,
Caught in a leafless brake, her garland torn,
Breathless with wonder, and the tears half-dried
Upon her rosy cheek; here summer comes
And wastes his passion like a prodigal
Right royally; and here her golden gains
Free-handed as a harlot autumn spends;
And here are men to know, women to love.’
Bold brow and wanton mouth were not all lust,
But haunted from within and from without
By memories, visions, hopes, divine desires—
8
A prouder music than the winds and waves
Can compass in their haughtiest moods. I need
No world more spacious than the region here:
The foam-embroidered firth, a purple path
For argosies that still on pinions speed,
Or fiery-hearted cleave with iron limbs
And bows precipitous the pliant sea;
The sloping shores that fringe the velvet tides
With heavy bullion and with golden lace
Of restless pebble woven and fine spun sand;
The villages that sleep the winter through,
And, wakening with the spring, keep festival
All summer and all autumn: this grey town
That pipes the morning up before the lark
With shrieking steam, and from a hundred stalks
Lacquers the sooty sky; where hammers clang
On iron hulls, and cranes in harbours creak
9
Where men sweat gold that others hoard or spend,
And lurk like vermin in their narrow streets:
This old grey town, this firth, the further strand
Spangled with hamlets, and the wooded steeps,
Whose rocky tops behind each other press,
Fantastically carved like antique helms
High-hung in heaven's cloudy armoury,
Is world enough for me. Here daily dawn
Burns through the smoky east; with fire-shod feet
The sun treads heaven, and steps from hill to hill
Downward before the night that still pursues
His crimson wake; here winter plies his craft,
Soldering the years with ice; here spring appears,
Caught in a leafless brake, her garland torn,
Breathless with wonder, and the tears half-dried
Upon her rosy cheek; here summer comes
10
Right royally; and here her golden gains
Free-handed as a harlot autumn spends;
And here are men to know, women to love.’
His father, woman-hearted, great of soul,
Wilful and proud, save for one little shrine
That held a pinch-beck cross, had closed and barred
The many mansions of his intellect.
Wilful and proud, save for one little shrine
That held a pinch-beck cross, had closed and barred
The many mansions of his intellect.
‘My son,’ he said—to him, fresh from his firth
And dreams at evening; while his mother sat,
She also with her dingy crucifix
And feeble rushlight, praying for her boy—
‘My son, have you decided for the Lord?
Your mother's heart and mine are exercised
For your salvation. Will you turn to Christ?
Now, young and strong, you hanker for the world;
But think: the longest life must end at last,
And then come Death and Judgment. Are you fit
To meet your God before the great white throne?
If on the instant Death should summon you,
What doom would the Eternal Judge pronounce—
“Depart from me,” or “Sit on My right hand?”
In life it is your privilege to choose,
But after death you have no choice at all.
Die unbelieving, and in endless woe
You must believe throughout eternity.
My son, reject not Christ; he pleads through me;
The Holy Spirit uses my poor words.
How it would fill your mother's heart and mine,
And God's great heart with joy unspeakable,
Were you, a helpless sinner, now to cry,
“Lord I believe: help Thou mine unbelief.”’
And dreams at evening; while his mother sat,
She also with her dingy crucifix
And feeble rushlight, praying for her boy—
‘My son, have you decided for the Lord?
Your mother's heart and mine are exercised
For your salvation. Will you turn to Christ?
11
But think: the longest life must end at last,
And then come Death and Judgment. Are you fit
To meet your God before the great white throne?
If on the instant Death should summon you,
What doom would the Eternal Judge pronounce—
“Depart from me,” or “Sit on My right hand?”
In life it is your privilege to choose,
But after death you have no choice at all.
Die unbelieving, and in endless woe
You must believe throughout eternity.
My son, reject not Christ; he pleads through me;
The Holy Spirit uses my poor words.
How it would fill your mother's heart and mine,
And God's great heart with joy unspeakable,
Were you, a helpless sinner, now to cry,
“Lord I believe: help Thou mine unbelief.”’
12
He clenched his teeth; his blood, fulfilled of brine,
Of sunset, and his dreams, boomed in his ears.
A vision rose before him; and the sound
Husky and plaintive of his father's voice
Seemed unintelligible and afar.
He saw Apollo on the Dardan beach:
The waves lay still; the winds hung motionless,
And held their breath to hear the rebel god,
Conquered and doomed, with stormy sobbing song,
And crashing discords of his golden lyre,
Reluctantly compel the walls of Troy,
Unquarried and unhewn, in supple lines
And massive strength to rise about the town.
Of sunset, and his dreams, boomed in his ears.
A vision rose before him; and the sound
Husky and plaintive of his father's voice
Seemed unintelligible and afar.
He saw Apollo on the Dardan beach:
The waves lay still; the winds hung motionless,
And held their breath to hear the rebel god,
Conquered and doomed, with stormy sobbing song,
And crashing discords of his golden lyre,
Reluctantly compel the walls of Troy,
Unquarried and unhewn, in supple lines
And massive strength to rise about the town.
A quavering voice shattered his fantasy:
His father's pleading done, his mother cried,
With twitching forehead, scalding tears that broke
The seal of wrinkled eyelids, mortised hands
Where knuckles jutted white: ‘Almighty God!—
Almighty God!—Oh, save my foolish boy!’
His father's pleading done, his mother cried,
With twitching forehead, scalding tears that broke
13
Where knuckles jutted white: ‘Almighty God!—
Almighty God!—Oh, save my foolish boy!’
He glanced about the dreary parlour, clenched
His teeth, and once again his blood, fulfilled
Of brine, of sunset, and his dreams, exhaled
A vision. While his parents clutched their hearts,
Expecting his conversion instantly,
And listened if perchance they might o'erhear
The silent heavens burst into applause
Over one lost repentant, he beheld
The Cyprian Aphrodite, all one blush
And glance of passion, from the violet sea
Step inland, fastening as she went her zone.
She reached a gulf that opened in the ground
Deep in a leafless wood and waited there,
Battling the darkness with her wistful eyes.
Then suddenly she blanched and blushed again,
And her divinely pulsing body bowed
With outstretched arms over the yawning earth.
Straightway Adonis, wonderstruck and pale,
Stole from the sepulchre, a moonbeam wraith.
But Aphrodite with a golden cry
That echoed round the world and shook the stars,
Caught him and thawed him in her warm embrace,
And murmuring kisses bore him to her bower.
Then all the trees were lit with budding flames
Of emerald, and all the meads and leas,
Coverts and shady places, glades and dells,
Odoured and dimly stained with opening flowers,
And loud with love-songs of impassioned birds,
Became the shrine and hostel of the spring.
His teeth, and once again his blood, fulfilled
Of brine, of sunset, and his dreams, exhaled
A vision. While his parents clutched their hearts,
Expecting his conversion instantly,
And listened if perchance they might o'erhear
The silent heavens burst into applause
Over one lost repentant, he beheld
The Cyprian Aphrodite, all one blush
And glance of passion, from the violet sea
Step inland, fastening as she went her zone.
She reached a gulf that opened in the ground
Deep in a leafless wood and waited there,
14
Then suddenly she blanched and blushed again,
And her divinely pulsing body bowed
With outstretched arms over the yawning earth.
Straightway Adonis, wonderstruck and pale,
Stole from the sepulchre, a moonbeam wraith.
But Aphrodite with a golden cry
That echoed round the world and shook the stars,
Caught him and thawed him in her warm embrace,
And murmuring kisses bore him to her bower.
Then all the trees were lit with budding flames
Of emerald, and all the meads and leas,
Coverts and shady places, glades and dells,
Odoured and dimly stained with opening flowers,
And loud with love-songs of impassioned birds,
Became the shrine and hostel of the spring.
His wanton face grew sweet and wonderful,
Beholding Aphrodite. But they thought—
His father and his mother, sick with hope—
It was the Holy Ghost's effectual call.
Entranced he rose and glided from the room;
They, undeceived, like little children sobbed.
15
His father and his mother, sick with hope—
It was the Holy Ghost's effectual call.
Entranced he rose and glided from the room;
They, undeceived, like little children sobbed.
Slowly he broke his mother's tender heart,
Until she died in anguish for his sins.
His father then besought him on his knees,
With tears and broken speech and pleading hands
Until she died in anguish for his sins.
His father then besought him on his knees,
With tears and broken speech and pleading hands
‘My son,’ he said, ‘you open all the wounds
Daily and nightly of the Lord of Heaven:
You killed your mother, you are killing me:
Is it not sin enough, poor foolish boy?’
Daily and nightly of the Lord of Heaven:
You killed your mother, you are killing me:
Is it not sin enough, poor foolish boy?’
For this was in the North, where Time stands still
And Change holds holiday, where Old and New
Welter upon the border of the world,
And savage faith works woe.
And Change holds holiday, where Old and New
Welter upon the border of the world,
16
‘Oh, let me be!’
The dreamer cried, and rushing from the house
He sought the outcast Aphrodite, dull,
Tawdry, unbeautiful, but still divine
Even in the dark streets of a noisome port.
The dreamer cried, and rushing from the house
He sought the outcast Aphrodite, dull,
Tawdry, unbeautiful, but still divine
Even in the dark streets of a noisome port.
At times he wrote his dreams, rebellious still
That he should be constrained to please himself
As one is eased by roaring on the rack.
Desperate he grew, and wandering by his firth,
Exclaimed against the literature he loved.
‘Lies, lies!’ he muttered. ‘And the noblest, lies!
For no man ever understood a woman,
No woman ever understood a man,
And no man ever understood a man,
No woman ever understood a woman,
And no man ever understood himself,
No woman ever understood herself.
Why should we lie? what penalty is this—
To write, and sing, and think, and speculate,
Hag-ridden by ideas, or 'twixt the shafts
Like broken horses, blinded, bitted, reined,
And whipped about the world by steel-tagged creeds!’
That he should be constrained to please himself
As one is eased by roaring on the rack.
Desperate he grew, and wandering by his firth,
Exclaimed against the literature he loved.
‘Lies, lies!’ he muttered. ‘And the noblest, lies!
For no man ever understood a woman,
No woman ever understood a man,
And no man ever understood a man,
No woman ever understood a woman,
And no man ever understood himself,
17
Why should we lie? what penalty is this—
To write, and sing, and think, and speculate,
Hag-ridden by ideas, or 'twixt the shafts
Like broken horses, blinded, bitted, reined,
And whipped about the world by steel-tagged creeds!’
Wasted and sad with wantonness, and wan
With fantasy—a furnace seven times hot,
Wherein he tried all things; and wrung with woe
To see his father dying for his sake,
And by the memory of his mother's death,
He yielded tamely and professed himself
Convinced of sin but confident in Christ.
With fantasy—a furnace seven times hot,
Wherein he tried all things; and wrung with woe
To see his father dying for his sake,
And by the memory of his mother's death,
He yielded tamely and professed himself
Convinced of sin but confident in Christ.
Then to the table of the Lord he went,
Ghastly, with haunted eyes that shone, and limbs
That scarcely bore him, like a heretic
Led to the chamber where tormentors stood
Muffled and silent, earnest to explore,
With cunning flames and cords and engines dire,
The sunken wells of pain, the gloomy gulfs
Obscurely wallowing in the souls of men.
Ghastly, with haunted eyes that shone, and limbs
18
Led to the chamber where tormentors stood
Muffled and silent, earnest to explore,
With cunning flames and cords and engines dire,
The sunken wells of pain, the gloomy gulfs
Obscurely wallowing in the souls of men.
In solemn tones the grey-haired presbyter—
‘This is My body which is given for you,
This do in memory of Me.’
‘This is My body which is given for you,
This do in memory of Me.’
The boy,
Whose blood within him clamoured like a storm,
Uttered a smothered cry and rose, but lo!
The happy triumph on his father's face!
‘Why do I not die now? like husks of corn,
The bread, like vitriol the sip of wine!
I eat and drink damnation to myself
To give my father's troubled spirit peace.’
The stealthy elders creaked about the floor,
Guiding the cup and platter; looking down,
The children in the gallery smirked and watched
Who took the deepest draught; and ancient dames
Crumpled their folded handkerchiefs, and pressed
With knuckly fingers sprays of southernwood.
Whose blood within him clamoured like a storm,
Uttered a smothered cry and rose, but lo!
The happy triumph on his father's face!
‘Why do I not die now? like husks of corn,
The bread, like vitriol the sip of wine!
I eat and drink damnation to myself
To give my father's troubled spirit peace.’
19
Guiding the cup and platter; looking down,
The children in the gallery smirked and watched
Who took the deepest draught; and ancient dames
Crumpled their folded handkerchiefs, and pressed
With knuckly fingers sprays of southernwood.
Ah! down no silver beam the Holy Grail
Glided from Heaven, a crimson cup that throbbed
As throbs the heart divine; no aching sounds
Of scarce-heard music stole into the aisle,
Like disembodied pulses beating love.
Glided from Heaven, a crimson cup that throbbed
As throbs the heart divine; no aching sounds
Of scarce-heard music stole into the aisle,
Like disembodied pulses beating love.
But in the evening by the purple firth
He walked, and saw brown locks upon the brine,
And pale hands beckon him to come away,
Where mermaids, with their harps and golden combs,
Sit throned upon the carven antique poops
Of treasure-ships, and soft sea-dirges sing
Over the green-gilt bones of mariners.
He saw vast forms and dreadful draw aside
The flowing crimson curtains of the west
With far-off thundrous rustle, and threaten him
From heaven's porch; beneath his feet the earth
Quaked like a flame-sapped bridge that spans the wave
Of fiery Phlegethon; and in the wind
An icy voice was borne from some waste place,
Piercing him to the marrow. Night came down,
And still he wandered helpless by the firth,
That under clouded skies gleamed black and smooth
Like cooling pitch. But when the moon broke out,
And poured athwart the glittering ebony
Torrents of molten silver, hurtling thoughts
Trooped forth disorderly.
He walked, and saw brown locks upon the brine,
20
Where mermaids, with their harps and golden combs,
Sit throned upon the carven antique poops
Of treasure-ships, and soft sea-dirges sing
Over the green-gilt bones of mariners.
He saw vast forms and dreadful draw aside
The flowing crimson curtains of the west
With far-off thundrous rustle, and threaten him
From heaven's porch; beneath his feet the earth
Quaked like a flame-sapped bridge that spans the wave
Of fiery Phlegethon; and in the wind
An icy voice was borne from some waste place,
Piercing him to the marrow. Night came down,
And still he wandered helpless by the firth,
21
Like cooling pitch. But when the moon broke out,
And poured athwart the glittering ebony
Torrents of molten silver, hurtling thoughts
Trooped forth disorderly.
‘I'll have no creed,’
He said. ‘Though I be weakest of my kind,
I'll have no creed. Lo! there is but one creed,
The vulture-phœnix that for ever tears
The soul of man in chains of flesh and blood
Rivetted to the earth; the clime, the time,
Change but its plumage. Gluttonous bird of prey,
More fatal than all famines, plagues and wars,
I wrench you off, although my soul go too!
With bloody claws and dripping beak unfleshed,
Spread out your crackling vans that darken heaven;
Rabid and curst, fly yelping where you list!
Henceforth I shall be God; for consciousness
Is God: I suffer; I am God: this Self,
That all the universe combines to quell,
Is greater than the universe; and I
Am that I am. To think and not be God?—
It cannot be! Lo! I shall spread this news,
And gather to myself a band of Gods—
An army, and go forth against the world,
Conquering and to conquer. Snowy steppes
Of Muscovy, frost-bound Siberian plains,
And scalding sands of Ethiopia,
Where groans oppress the bosom of the wind,
And men in gangs are driven to icy graves,
Or lashed to brutish slavery under suns
Whose sheer beams scorch and flay like burning blades,
Shall ring, enfranchised, with divine delight.
At home, where millions mope, in labyrinths
Of hideous streets astray without a clue,
Unfed, unsexed, unsoulled, unhelped, I bring
Life, with the gospel, “Up, quit you like Gods!”
He said. ‘Though I be weakest of my kind,
I'll have no creed. Lo! there is but one creed,
The vulture-phœnix that for ever tears
The soul of man in chains of flesh and blood
Rivetted to the earth; the clime, the time,
Change but its plumage. Gluttonous bird of prey,
More fatal than all famines, plagues and wars,
I wrench you off, although my soul go too!
22
Spread out your crackling vans that darken heaven;
Rabid and curst, fly yelping where you list!
Henceforth I shall be God; for consciousness
Is God: I suffer; I am God: this Self,
That all the universe combines to quell,
Is greater than the universe; and I
Am that I am. To think and not be God?—
It cannot be! Lo! I shall spread this news,
And gather to myself a band of Gods—
An army, and go forth against the world,
Conquering and to conquer. Snowy steppes
Of Muscovy, frost-bound Siberian plains,
And scalding sands of Ethiopia,
Where groans oppress the bosom of the wind,
And men in gangs are driven to icy graves,
Or lashed to brutish slavery under suns
23
Shall ring, enfranchised, with divine delight.
At home, where millions mope, in labyrinths
Of hideous streets astray without a clue,
Unfed, unsexed, unsoulled, unhelped, I bring
Life, with the gospel, “Up, quit you like Gods!”
Possessed with this, upon his father's hour
Of new-found happiness he burst, and cried,
‘Father, my father, I have news to tell!
I know the word that shall uproot the thrones
Of oldest monarchs, and for ever lay
The doting phantom with the triple crown:
A word dynamic with the power of doom
To blast conventicles and parliaments,
Unsolder federations, crumble states,
And in the fining pot cast continents.
A word that shall a new beginning be,
And out of chaos make the world again.
Behold, my father! we, who heretofore,
Fearful and weak, deep-dyed in Stygian creeds
Against the shafts of pain and woe, have walked
The throbbing earth, most vulnerable still
In every pore and nerve: we, trembling things,
Who but an hour ago in frantic dread
Burned palsied women, and with awe beheld
A shaven pate mutter a latin spell
Over a biscuit: we, even we are Gods!
Nothing beneath, about us, or above
Is higher than ourselves. Henceforth degree,
Authority, religion, government,
Employer and employed are obsolete
As penal torture or astrology.
The mighty spirit of the universe,
Conscious in us, shall.’ . . .
Of new-found happiness he burst, and cried,
‘Father, my father, I have news to tell!
I know the word that shall uproot the thrones
Of oldest monarchs, and for ever lay
The doting phantom with the triple crown:
A word dynamic with the power of doom
To blast conventicles and parliaments,
Unsolder federations, crumble states,
24
A word that shall a new beginning be,
And out of chaos make the world again.
Behold, my father! we, who heretofore,
Fearful and weak, deep-dyed in Stygian creeds
Against the shafts of pain and woe, have walked
The throbbing earth, most vulnerable still
In every pore and nerve: we, trembling things,
Who but an hour ago in frantic dread
Burned palsied women, and with awe beheld
A shaven pate mutter a latin spell
Over a biscuit: we, even we are Gods!
Nothing beneath, about us, or above
Is higher than ourselves. Henceforth degree,
Authority, religion, government,
Employer and employed are obsolete
As penal torture or astrology.
25
Conscious in us, shall.’ . . .
Suddenly aware
Of gaping horror on his father's face,
He paused; and he, the old man, white as death,
With eyes like stars upon the crack of doom,
Rose quaking; and ‘The unpardonable sin!—
The unpardonable sin!’ he whispered hoarse.
‘This was the sin of Lucifer—to make
Himself God's equal. If I may, my son—
If it be God's will, I shall go to hell
To be beside you. I shall be there first:
I have not many hours to live. I thought—
Here as I sat beside your mother's chair—
I—my boy!—I wander somewhat. Let me—
I'll sit again.—Let me remember now
How happy I have been to-day, my son
A member of the Church of Christ, and I
Beside him at Communion, seeing him
And seeing at the window of heaven the face
Of her who bore him, sweet and glorified.
At home I sit and think that, as he lived
Most absolute in sin, he shall, like Paul
Be as insatiable in doing well.
I think how, when my time comes, I shall go
And tell his mother of his holy life
Of labour for the Lord; and then I see
My boy at last appear before the Throne.
“By what right com'st thou here?” the Judge demands.
He hangs his head; but round about him throng
A crowd of souls, who cry “He was our staff;
He led us here.” “Sit thou on My right hand,”
The sentence falls; and we, my wife and I,
Awaiting you. . . . There came a devil in
Wearing the likeness of my boy, and said
He was predestined for a reprobate,
A special vessel of the wrath of God.
Holy he was begotten; holy born;
With tearful prayers attended all his life;
Cherished with scrupulous love, and shown the path
To heaven by her who ne'er shall see him there;
For out of this there comes but blasphemy
And everlasting Hell. . . . Ah! who are these?
My soul is hustled by a multitude
Of wild-eyed prodigals and wrenched about.
Boy, help me to blaspheme. I cannot face
Without you her that nursed you at her breast.
Let us curse God together and going forth
Plunge headlong in the waves, and be at rest
In Hell for evermore. Some end to this!—
This awful gnawing pain in every part!
Or certainty that this will never end!
This, now, is Hell! . . . There was a paltry way
Of fooling God some casuists hit upon.
How went it? Yes, that God did fore-ordain
And so foreknew that those who should believe
Should enter glory of their own free-will.
Ah! pink of blasphemies that makes of God
An impotent spectator! Let us two
Believe in this, and that shall damn us best! . .
I dare, but cannot; for the Lord of Hosts,
The God of my salvation, is my God:
He, ere the world began, predestined me
To life eternal: to the bitter end
Against my will I persevere, a saint;
And find my will at length the will of God.
What is my son, and what the hopes and fears
Of my dead wife and me before the flame
Of God's pure purpose, His, from whose dread eyes
The earth and heaven fled and found no place!
Beside the crystal river I shall walk
For ever with the Lord. The city of gold,
The jasper walls thereof, the gates of pearl,
The bright foundation-stones of emerald,
Of sapphire, chrysoprase, of every gem,
And the high triumph of unending day
Shall be but wildfire on a summer eve
Beside the exceeding glory of delight,
That shall entrance me with the constant thought
Of how in Hell through all eternity
My son performs the perfect will of God.
Amen. I come, Lord Jesus. If his sin
Be not to death . . . Heaven opens!’ . . .
Of gaping horror on his father's face,
He paused; and he, the old man, white as death,
With eyes like stars upon the crack of doom,
Rose quaking; and ‘The unpardonable sin!—
The unpardonable sin!’ he whispered hoarse.
‘This was the sin of Lucifer—to make
Himself God's equal. If I may, my son—
If it be God's will, I shall go to hell
To be beside you. I shall be there first:
I have not many hours to live. I thought—
Here as I sat beside your mother's chair—
I—my boy!—I wander somewhat. Let me—
I'll sit again.—Let me remember now
How happy I have been to-day, my son
26
Beside him at Communion, seeing him
And seeing at the window of heaven the face
Of her who bore him, sweet and glorified.
At home I sit and think that, as he lived
Most absolute in sin, he shall, like Paul
Be as insatiable in doing well.
I think how, when my time comes, I shall go
And tell his mother of his holy life
Of labour for the Lord; and then I see
My boy at last appear before the Throne.
“By what right com'st thou here?” the Judge demands.
He hangs his head; but round about him throng
A crowd of souls, who cry “He was our staff;
He led us here.” “Sit thou on My right hand,”
The sentence falls; and we, my wife and I,
Awaiting you. . . . There came a devil in
27
He was predestined for a reprobate,
A special vessel of the wrath of God.
Holy he was begotten; holy born;
With tearful prayers attended all his life;
Cherished with scrupulous love, and shown the path
To heaven by her who ne'er shall see him there;
For out of this there comes but blasphemy
And everlasting Hell. . . . Ah! who are these?
My soul is hustled by a multitude
Of wild-eyed prodigals and wrenched about.
Boy, help me to blaspheme. I cannot face
Without you her that nursed you at her breast.
Let us curse God together and going forth
Plunge headlong in the waves, and be at rest
In Hell for evermore. Some end to this!—
This awful gnawing pain in every part!
28
This, now, is Hell! . . . There was a paltry way
Of fooling God some casuists hit upon.
How went it? Yes, that God did fore-ordain
And so foreknew that those who should believe
Should enter glory of their own free-will.
Ah! pink of blasphemies that makes of God
An impotent spectator! Let us two
Believe in this, and that shall damn us best! . .
I dare, but cannot; for the Lord of Hosts,
The God of my salvation, is my God:
He, ere the world began, predestined me
To life eternal: to the bitter end
Against my will I persevere, a saint;
And find my will at length the will of God.
What is my son, and what the hopes and fears
Of my dead wife and me before the flame
Of God's pure purpose, His, from whose dread eyes
29
Beside the crystal river I shall walk
For ever with the Lord. The city of gold,
The jasper walls thereof, the gates of pearl,
The bright foundation-stones of emerald,
Of sapphire, chrysoprase, of every gem,
And the high triumph of unending day
Shall be but wildfire on a summer eve
Beside the exceeding glory of delight,
That shall entrance me with the constant thought
Of how in Hell through all eternity
My son performs the perfect will of God.
Amen. I come, Lord Jesus. If his sin
Be not to death . . . Heaven opens!’ . . .
Thus he died;
For this was in the North where Time stands still,
And Change holds holiday; where Old and New
Welter upon the border of the world,
And savage creeds can kill.
For this was in the North where Time stands still,
And Change holds holiday; where Old and New
30
And savage creeds can kill.
The trembling boy
Knelt down, but dared to think, ‘A dreadful death!
To die believing in so dull a God,
A useless Hell, a jewel-huckster's Heaven!’
Forthwith it flashed like light across his mind,
‘If it be terrible into the hands
Of the living God to fall, how much more dire
To sicken face to face, like our sad age,
Chained to an icy corpse of deity,
Decked though it be and painted and embalmed!’
Knelt down, but dared to think, ‘A dreadful death!
To die believing in so dull a God,
A useless Hell, a jewel-huckster's Heaven!’
Forthwith it flashed like light across his mind,
‘If it be terrible into the hands
Of the living God to fall, how much more dire
To sicken face to face, like our sad age,
Chained to an icy corpse of deity,
Decked though it be and painted and embalmed!’
He took his father's hand and kissed his brow
And, weeping like a woman, watched him long;
Then softly rose and stepped into the night.
He stood beside the house a little space,
Hearing the wind speak low in whispers quaint,
An irresponsible and wandering voice.
But soon he hastened to the water's edge;
For from the shore there came sea-minstrelsy
Of waves that broke upon the hollow beach,
With liquid sound of pearling surges blent,
Cymbals, and muffled drums and dulcimers.
And, weeping like a woman, watched him long;
Then softly rose and stepped into the night.
He stood beside the house a little space,
31
An irresponsible and wandering voice.
But soon he hastened to the water's edge;
For from the shore there came sea-minstrelsy
Of waves that broke upon the hollow beach,
With liquid sound of pearling surges blent,
Cymbals, and muffled drums and dulcimers.
Sparse diamonds in the dead-black dome of night,
A few stars lit the moon-deserted air
And swarthy heaving of the firth obscure.
He, knowing every rock and sandy reach,
All night unfalteringly walked the shore,
While tempest after tempest rose and fell
Within his soul, that like an o'er-wrought sea
Laboured to burst its continent and hang
Some glittering trophy high among the stars.
At last the fugal music of the tide,
With cymbals, muffled drums, and dulcimers,
Into his blood a measured rhythm beat,
And gave his passion scope and way in words.
A few stars lit the moon-deserted air
And swarthy heaving of the firth obscure.
He, knowing every rock and sandy reach,
All night unfalteringly walked the shore,
While tempest after tempest rose and fell
Within his soul, that like an o'er-wrought sea
Laboured to burst its continent and hang
Some glittering trophy high among the stars.
At last the fugal music of the tide,
32
Into his blood a measured rhythm beat,
And gave his passion scope and way in words.
‘How unintelligent, how blind am I,
How vain!’ he said. ‘A God? a mole, a worm!
An engine frail, of brittle bones conjoined;
With tissue packed; with nerves, transmitting force;
And driven by water, thick and coloured red:
That may for some few pence a day be hired
In thousands to be shot at! Oh, a God,
That lies and steals and murders! Such a God!
Passionate, dissolute, incontinent!
A God that starves in thousands, and ashamed
Or shameless in the workhouse lurks; that sweats
In mines and foundries! An enchanted God,
Whose nostrils in a palace breathe perfume,
Whose cracking shoulders hold the palace up,
Whose shoeless feet are rotting in the mire!
A God who said a little while ago,
“I'll have no creed;” and of his Godhood straight
Patched up a creed unwittingly—with which
He went and killed his father. Subtle lie
That tempts our weakness always; magical,
And magically changed to suit the time!
“Lo, ye shall be as Gods!”—the serpent's cry—
Rose up again, “Ye shall be sons of God;”
And now the glosing word is in the air,
“Thou shalt be God by simply taking thought.”
And if one could, believing this, convert
A million to be upright, chaste and strong,
Gentle and tolerant, it were but to found
A new religion, bringing new offence,
Setting the child against the father still.
Some thought imprisons us; we set about
To bring the world within the woven spell:
Our ruthless creeds that bathe the earth in blood
Are moods by alchemy made dogmas of—
The petrifaction of a metaphor.
No creed for me! I am a man apart:
A mouthpiece for the creeds of all the world;
A soulless life that angels may possess
Or demons haunt, wherein the foulest things
May loll at ease beside the loveliest;
A martyr for all mundane moods to tear;
The slave of every passion; and the slave
Of heat and cold, of darkness and of light;
A trembling lyre for every wind to sound.
I am a man set by to overhear
The inner harmony, the very tune
Of Nature's heart; to be a thoroughfare
For all the pageantry of Time; to catch
The mutterings of the Spirit of the Hour
And make them known; and of the lowliest
To be the minister, and therefore reign
Prince of the powers of the air, lord of the world,
And master of the sea. Within my heart
I'll gather all the universe, and sing
As sweetly as the spheres; and I shall be
The first of men to understand himself. . .
And lo! to give me courage comes the dawn,
Crimsoning the smoky east; and still the sun
With fire-shod feet shall step from hill to hill
Downward before the night; winter shall ply
His ancient craft, soldering the years with ice;
And spring appear, caught in a leafless brake,
Breathless with wonder and the tears half-dried
Upon her rosy cheek; summer shall come
And waste his passion like a prodigal
Right royally; and autumn spend her gold
Free-handed as a harlot; men to know,
Women to love are waiting everywhere.’
How vain!’ he said. ‘A God? a mole, a worm!
An engine frail, of brittle bones conjoined;
With tissue packed; with nerves, transmitting force;
And driven by water, thick and coloured red:
That may for some few pence a day be hired
In thousands to be shot at! Oh, a God,
That lies and steals and murders! Such a God!
Passionate, dissolute, incontinent!
A God that starves in thousands, and ashamed
Or shameless in the workhouse lurks; that sweats
In mines and foundries! An enchanted God,
Whose nostrils in a palace breathe perfume,
Whose cracking shoulders hold the palace up,
33
A God who said a little while ago,
“I'll have no creed;” and of his Godhood straight
Patched up a creed unwittingly—with which
He went and killed his father. Subtle lie
That tempts our weakness always; magical,
And magically changed to suit the time!
“Lo, ye shall be as Gods!”—the serpent's cry—
Rose up again, “Ye shall be sons of God;”
And now the glosing word is in the air,
“Thou shalt be God by simply taking thought.”
And if one could, believing this, convert
A million to be upright, chaste and strong,
Gentle and tolerant, it were but to found
A new religion, bringing new offence,
Setting the child against the father still.
Some thought imprisons us; we set about
To bring the world within the woven spell:
34
Are moods by alchemy made dogmas of—
The petrifaction of a metaphor.
No creed for me! I am a man apart:
A mouthpiece for the creeds of all the world;
A soulless life that angels may possess
Or demons haunt, wherein the foulest things
May loll at ease beside the loveliest;
A martyr for all mundane moods to tear;
The slave of every passion; and the slave
Of heat and cold, of darkness and of light;
A trembling lyre for every wind to sound.
I am a man set by to overhear
The inner harmony, the very tune
Of Nature's heart; to be a thoroughfare
For all the pageantry of Time; to catch
The mutterings of the Spirit of the Hour
And make them known; and of the lowliest
35
Prince of the powers of the air, lord of the world,
And master of the sea. Within my heart
I'll gather all the universe, and sing
As sweetly as the spheres; and I shall be
The first of men to understand himself. . .
And lo! to give me courage comes the dawn,
Crimsoning the smoky east; and still the sun
With fire-shod feet shall step from hill to hill
Downward before the night; winter shall ply
His ancient craft, soldering the years with ice;
And spring appear, caught in a leafless brake,
Breathless with wonder and the tears half-dried
Upon her rosy cheek; summer shall come
And waste his passion like a prodigal
Right royally; and autumn spend her gold
Free-handed as a harlot; men to know,
Women to love are waiting everywhere.’
36
A BALLAD OF THE EXODUS FROM HOUNDSDITCH
Exodus from Houndsditch. ‘That alas! is impossible as
yet, though it is the gist of all writings and wise books, I
sometimes think—the goal to be wisely aimed at as the first
of all for us. Out of Houndsditch, indeed! Ah, were we
but out, and had our own along with us.’
Carlyle's Journal.
He glowed and flamed with faith in Heaven and Hell,
And travailed for his Church in thought and deed;
They cast him out because he preached too well
His peremptory creed.
And travailed for his Church in thought and deed;
They cast him out because he preached too well
His peremptory creed.
37
He hid himself among the northern heights;
He watched the misty torrents, thundering, fall;
He watched the shortening days, the lengthening nights;
And heard the Lord God call,
He watched the misty torrents, thundering, fall;
He watched the shortening days, the lengthening nights;
And heard the Lord God call,
‘Go back, and noise abroad the wrath to come;
Ask no man's help; proclaim me in the crowd;
Shall my anointed minister be dumb,
When all my foes are loud?’
Ask no man's help; proclaim me in the crowd;
Shall my anointed minister be dumb,
When all my foes are loud?’
He hastened to the city: in a square
He preached the gospel. ‘Fellowmen,’ he cried,
‘Jehovah speaks through me; you shall not dare
To laugh or turn aside.
He preached the gospel. ‘Fellowmen,’ he cried,
‘Jehovah speaks through me; you shall not dare
To laugh or turn aside.
38
‘I preach no system nebulous and new;
God is, or is not: I have not to sell
Cosmetics for the soul: I offer you
The choice of Heaven or Hell.
God is, or is not: I have not to sell
Cosmetics for the soul: I offer you
The choice of Heaven or Hell.
‘Heed not bellethrist jargon, nor the rant
Of wanton art and proud philosophy;
But purge your reason of the subtlest cant,
And listen now to me.
Of wanton art and proud philosophy;
But purge your reason of the subtlest cant,
And listen now to me.
‘These are the grievous times that Paul foretold:
Men have become self-lovers, moneyers;
Boastful and haughty; scorners of the old;
Thankless, unholy; worse
Men have become self-lovers, moneyers;
Boastful and haughty; scorners of the old;
Thankless, unholy; worse
‘Than apes in lusts unspoken that appal
Sweet love; of dissolute fantastic mood;
Egoists, artists, scientists; and all
Haters of what is good.
Sweet love; of dissolute fantastic mood;
Egoists, artists, scientists; and all
Haters of what is good.
39
‘Be warned ye sceptics, poets—fools; refrain
Who lick the lip and roll the lustful eye;
Repent, ye rich, that for your pleasures drain
The heart of labour dry.
Who lick the lip and roll the lustful eye;
Repent, ye rich, that for your pleasures drain
The heart of labour dry.
‘Reformer, bishop, knowledge-monger, quack—
Kill-Christs!—I am to every mortal sent;
But chiefly to the wise and good, alack!
I cry, repent! repent!
Kill-Christs!—I am to every mortal sent;
But chiefly to the wise and good, alack!
I cry, repent! repent!
‘Ye gentle-hearted, lofty-sprited ones
Who dream, who hope, who think, and who design,
And who perform humane things for men's sons,
Denying things divine,
Who dream, who hope, who think, and who design,
And who perform humane things for men's sons,
Denying things divine,
‘Ye labour nobly, asking no reward;
But I pronounce unselfishness a crime,
And tell you that the Great Day of the Lord
Brags in the womb of time.
But I pronounce unselfishness a crime,
And tell you that the Great Day of the Lord
Brags in the womb of time.
40
‘Soon shall the elements with fervent heat
Melt, and the stars be shed like withered leaves;
And ye shall stand before the judgment-seat
With murderers, liars, thieves.
Melt, and the stars be shed like withered leaves;
And ye shall stand before the judgment-seat
With murderers, liars, thieves.
‘Repent! repent! and shun your awful fate!
Why were your souls to your own bodies lent
But for your own first care! Men, good and great,
I say, repent! repent!
Why were your souls to your own bodies lent
But for your own first care! Men, good and great,
I say, repent! repent!
‘And turn to Christ who put his glory by,
And suffered on the cross that anguish fell;
If you will not believe before you die,
You shall believe in Hell!’
And suffered on the cross that anguish fell;
If you will not believe before you die,
You shall believe in Hell!’
The chill wind whispered winter; night set in;
Stars flickered high; and like a tidal wave,
He heard the rolling multitudinous din
Of life the city lave,
Stars flickered high; and like a tidal wave,
He heard the rolling multitudinous din
Of life the city lave,
41
And burst in devious streams and eddying wreaths,
To fill the halls its glowing surges stain,
And hidden nooks wherein it clangs and seethes,
And spends itself in vain.
To fill the halls its glowing surges stain,
And hidden nooks wherein it clangs and seethes,
And spends itself in vain.
A glittering-eyed and rosy boy that way
Went past and gravely gazed; a minstrel thrummed
His banjo strings; ‘Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay,’
A happy harlot hummed.
Went past and gravely gazed; a minstrel thrummed
His banjo strings; ‘Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay,’
A happy harlot hummed.
Then from a shadowy corner of the square,
A phantom stole and took the preacher's hand,
And led him swiftly east to Houndsditch where
The Aldgate once did stand.
A phantom stole and took the preacher's hand,
And led him swiftly east to Houndsditch where
The Aldgate once did stand.
A vapour sank, ill-smelling and unclean,
Over the orient city; and writhed and curled
Up Houndsditch like a mist in a ravine,
Of some fantastic world,
Over the orient city; and writhed and curled
42
Of some fantastic world,
Where wild weeds, half-way down the frowning bank,
Flutter like poor apparel stained and sere,
And lamplike flowers with hearts of flame their rank
And baleful blossoms rear.
Flutter like poor apparel stained and sere,
And lamplike flowers with hearts of flame their rank
And baleful blossoms rear.
Nothing he noted of the ceaseless roar
Of wheels and wearied hoofs and wearied feet,
That sounded hoarse behind 'twixt shore and shore
Of brimming Aldgate Street.
Of wheels and wearied hoofs and wearied feet,
That sounded hoarse behind 'twixt shore and shore
Of brimming Aldgate Street.
He only heard a murmur gathering fast,
Of hidden multitudes in wrath and pain;
Anon a visionary pageant passed,
Through the high-shouldered lane.
Of hidden multitudes in wrath and pain;
Anon a visionary pageant passed,
Through the high-shouldered lane.
43
But first the bleared and beetling houses changed
To ivied towers and belfries old and gray,
And pointed gables, antic chimneys, ranged
In ordered disarray.
To ivied towers and belfries old and gray,
And pointed gables, antic chimneys, ranged
In ordered disarray.
Then in the midst of Houndsditch one appeared,
Panting with haste, and bearing heavily
A massive cross; but not as one that feared:
Rather he seemed to be
Panting with haste, and bearing heavily
A massive cross; but not as one that feared:
Rather he seemed to be
With desperate courage flying an event,
Most woful, unexpected, undesigned,
Born of immaculate heroism, meant
Wholly to bless mankind.
Most woful, unexpected, undesigned,
Born of immaculate heroism, meant
Wholly to bless mankind.
He sped along a path of cloud and flame,
That spanned the city, looking ever back
With pity and with horror, till he came
Where an abyss yawned black.
That spanned the city, looking ever back
With pity and with horror, till he came
Where an abyss yawned black.
44
Straightway he raised the cross high in the air;
Its shadow darkened space: into the deep
He threw it: then his terrible despair
Fell from him, as a sleep
Its shadow darkened space: into the deep
He threw it: then his terrible despair
Fell from him, as a sleep
Falls from a young man on a summer morn:
Wondering and glad a lowly way he took
By pastures, flowers and fruit, and golden corn,
And by a murmuring brook:
Wondering and glad a lowly way he took
By pastures, flowers and fruit, and golden corn,
And by a murmuring brook:
The while were heard descending from the skies
Or out of future times and future lands,
A bruit low and whispers, shadowy cries
Of joy and clapping hands.
Or out of future times and future lands,
A bruit low and whispers, shadowy cries
Of joy and clapping hands.
But this scarce-heard applause, so far, so faint,
Like happy tears shed in a stormy sea,
Sudden was lost in the deep-voiced complaint,
The shouts of victory,
Like happy tears shed in a stormy sea,
Sudden was lost in the deep-voiced complaint,
The shouts of victory,
45
Of hope and woe, that with discordant stress
Tempestuously filled the phantom street,
As from its doors there issued forth a press
Of folk with noiseless feet,
Tempestuously filled the phantom street,
As from its doors there issued forth a press
Of folk with noiseless feet,
That hurried like a torrent through a strait,
And o'er the magic path of flame and cloud—
Arms, voices, of that silent-footed, great
And many-mannered crowd!
And o'er the magic path of flame and cloud—
Arms, voices, of that silent-footed, great
And many-mannered crowd!
Above the street the Holy City hung,
Close as a roof and like a jasper stone
Lit by the Lamp of God; while seraphs sung
And saints adored the Throne.
Close as a roof and like a jasper stone
Lit by the Lamp of God; while seraphs sung
And saints adored the Throne.
Beneath, the sewers, flaming suddenly,
Bore down, like offal, souls of men to swell
The reeking cess-pool of humanity,
The hideous nine-orbed Hell.
Bore down, like offal, souls of men to swell
The reeking cess-pool of humanity,
The hideous nine-orbed Hell.
46
Templars and warrior-bishops hewed and hacked
Christian and Pagan; kings and priests at feud
Each other smote; king, king—priest, priest attacked;
Creed, creed—zeal, zeal pursued
Christian and Pagan; kings and priests at feud
Each other smote; king, king—priest, priest attacked;
Creed, creed—zeal, zeal pursued
With thumbscrews, racks, strappadoes, cord and stake;
And victims passed: live folk like tired-off toys
Broken and burned—women on fire! Christ's sake!
And tortured girls and boys!
And victims passed: live folk like tired-off toys
Broken and burned—women on fire! Christ's sake!
And tortured girls and boys!
And there came also gentle counsellors,
And some announced that discord now should cease;
But every blessing rotted to a curse
Upon the lips of peace.
And some announced that discord now should cease;
But every blessing rotted to a curse
Upon the lips of peace.
47
Then cloth-yard shafts and knightly panoplies
Gave place to ordnance and the musketeer;
And evermore pealed hymns and battle-cries,
And shrieks of pain and fear.
Gave place to ordnance and the musketeer;
And evermore pealed hymns and battle-cries,
And shrieks of pain and fear.
The king o'erthrew the priest; the folk did tame
The king; and, having nobly played the man,
Bowed to the yoke again, while God became
A sleek-haired Anglican.
The king; and, having nobly played the man,
Bowed to the yoke again, while God became
A sleek-haired Anglican.
And still the motley pageant thundering poured
Along the Heaven-roofed and Hell-drained street—
Priest, trooper, harlot, lawyer, lady, lord,
And all with noiseless feet.
Along the Heaven-roofed and Hell-drained street—
Priest, trooper, harlot, lawyer, lady, lord,
And all with noiseless feet.
Because the way with living flesh was paved,
With men and women, stifled, broken, bruised,
Whose blood the thresholds of the Churches laved,
And stood in pools, and oozed,
With men and women, stifled, broken, bruised,
48
And stood in pools, and oozed,
And spirted high like water in a land
Of mire and moss, at every hoof and foot
Spattering the snowy alb, the jewelled hand
Of priest and prostitute.
Of mire and moss, at every hoof and foot
Spattering the snowy alb, the jewelled hand
Of priest and prostitute.
Voiceless and still the human causey lay,
Until the City of God began to pale,
And Hell grow cold; then from that dolorous way
Broke forth a feeble wail;
Until the City of God began to pale,
And Hell grow cold; then from that dolorous way
Broke forth a feeble wail;
And here and there some sign of life appeared—
A lifted arm; and faces quick or dead
Surged in the bloody plash; and one upreared
A ghastly, shrieking head,
A lifted arm; and faces quick or dead
Surged in the bloody plash; and one upreared
A ghastly, shrieking head,
49
That straightway fell, brained by a ruthless hoof:
But the live stones grew stormier evermore,
As dim and dimmer waned the Heavenly roof,
And Hell burned low and lower.
But the live stones grew stormier evermore,
As dim and dimmer waned the Heavenly roof,
And Hell burned low and lower.
Prone, or half-raised, or upright, desperate blows
By these down-trodden ones were dealt about;
At last the whole live road in wrath arose,
And smote the wanton rout.
By these down-trodden ones were dealt about;
At last the whole live road in wrath arose,
And smote the wanton rout.
Straightway a blood-red fog darkened and shone
And hid the street. . . . Was it the crimson stain
Of morn alone? Or must the New Day dawn
O'er mountains of the slain?
And hid the street. . . . Was it the crimson stain
Of morn alone? Or must the New Day dawn
O'er mountains of the slain?
The mist dissolved: Lo! Nature's comely face!
No Hellish sewer poisoning the air,
No parish Heaven obliterating space,
But earth and sky so fair—
No Hellish sewer poisoning the air,
No parish Heaven obliterating space,
But earth and sky so fair—
50
Infinite thought, infinite galaxies;
And on a daisied lawn a shining throng
Of noble people sweetly sang: here is
The burden of their song:
And on a daisied lawn a shining throng
Of noble people sweetly sang: here is
The burden of their song:
‘With love and hope we go;
We neither fear nor hate;
We know but what we know;
We have become as Fate.’
We neither fear nor hate;
We know but what we know;
We have become as Fate.’
Then suddenly the winter fog unclean
Sank o'er the orient city, and writhed and curled
Up Houndsditch like a mist in a ravine
Of some fantastic world,
Sank o'er the orient city, and writhed and curled
Up Houndsditch like a mist in a ravine
Of some fantastic world,
Where wild weeds halfway down the frowning bank
Flutter like poor apparel stained and sere,
And lamplike flowers with hearts of gold their rank
And baleful blossoms rear.
Flutter like poor apparel stained and sere,
51
And baleful blossoms rear.
The preacher, ghastlier than the phantom, cried
‘Get thee behind me, Satan!’ clutched the night,
Staggered, ran on, shrieked, laughed, fell down and died
Of that strange-storied sight.
‘Get thee behind me, Satan!’ clutched the night,
Staggered, ran on, shrieked, laughed, fell down and died
Of that strange-storied sight.
Few marked his death amid the ceaseless roar
Of wheels and wearied hoofs and wearied teet,
That sounded hoarse behind 'twixt shore and shore
Of brimming Aldgate Street.
Of wheels and wearied hoofs and wearied teet,
That sounded hoarse behind 'twixt shore and shore
Of brimming Aldgate Street.
52
A BALLAD OF A NUN
From Eastertide to Eastertide
For ten long years her patient knees
Engraved the stones—the fittest bride
Of Christ in all the diocese.
For ten long years her patient knees
Engraved the stones—the fittest bride
Of Christ in all the diocese.
She conquered every earthly lust;
The abbess loved her more and more;
And, as a mark of perfect trust,
Made her the keeper of the door.
The abbess loved her more and more;
And, as a mark of perfect trust,
Made her the keeper of the door.
High on a hill the convent hung,
Across a duchy looking down,
Where everlasting mountains flung
Their shadows over tower and town.
Across a duchy looking down,
Where everlasting mountains flung
Their shadows over tower and town.
53
The jewels of their lofty snows
In constellations flashed at night;
Above their crests the moon arose;
The deep earth shuddered with delight.
In constellations flashed at night;
Above their crests the moon arose;
The deep earth shuddered with delight.
Long ere she left her cloudy bed,
Still dreaming in the orient land,
On many a mountain's happy head
Dawn lightly laid her rosy hand.
Still dreaming in the orient land,
On many a mountain's happy head
Dawn lightly laid her rosy hand.
The adventurous sun took Heaven by storm;
Clouds scattered largesses of rain;
The sounding cities, rich and warm,
Smouldered and glittered in the plain.
Clouds scattered largesses of rain;
The sounding cities, rich and warm,
Smouldered and glittered in the plain.
Sometimes it was a wandering wind,
Sometimes the fragrance of the pine,
Sometimes the thought how others sinned,
That turned her sweet blood into wine.
Sometimes the fragrance of the pine,
Sometimes the thought how others sinned,
That turned her sweet blood into wine.
54
Sometimes she heard a serenade
Complaining sweetly far away:
She said, ‘A young man woos a maid’;
And dreamt of love till break of day.
Complaining sweetly far away:
She said, ‘A young man woos a maid’;
And dreamt of love till break of day.
Then would she ply her knotted scourge
Until she swooned; but evermore
She had the same red sin to purge,
Poor, passionate keeper of the door!
Until she swooned; but evermore
She had the same red sin to purge,
Poor, passionate keeper of the door!
For still night's starry scroll unfurled,
And still the day came like a flood:
It was the greatness of the world
That made her long to use her blood.
And still the day came like a flood:
It was the greatness of the world
That made her long to use her blood.
In winter-time when Lent drew nigh,
And hill and plain were wrapped in snow,
She watched beneath the frosty sky
The nearest city nightly glow.
And hill and plain were wrapped in snow,
She watched beneath the frosty sky
The nearest city nightly glow.
55
Like peals of airy bells outworn
Faint laughter died above her head
In gusts of broken music borne:
‘They keep the Carnival,’ she said.
Faint laughter died above her head
In gusts of broken music borne:
‘They keep the Carnival,’ she said.
Her hungry heart devoured the town:
‘Heaven save me by a miracle!
Unless God sends an angel down,
Thither I go though it were Hell.’
‘Heaven save me by a miracle!
Unless God sends an angel down,
Thither I go though it were Hell.’
She dug her nails deep in her breast,
Sobbed, shrieked, and straight withdrew the bar:
A fledgling flying from the nest,
A pale moth rushing to a star.
Sobbed, shrieked, and straight withdrew the bar:
A fledgling flying from the nest,
A pale moth rushing to a star.
Fillet and veil in strips she tore;
Her golden tresses floated wide;
The ring and bracelet that she wore
As Christ's betrothed, she cast aside.
Her golden tresses floated wide;
The ring and bracelet that she wore
As Christ's betrothed, she cast aside.
56
‘Life's dearest meaning I shall probe;
Lo! I shall taste of love at last!
Away!’ She doffed her outer robe,
And sent it sailing down the blast.
Lo! I shall taste of love at last!
Away!’ She doffed her outer robe,
And sent it sailing down the blast.
Her body seemed to warm the wind;
With bleeding feet o'er ice she ran:
‘I leave the righteous God behind;
I go to worship sinful man.’
With bleeding feet o'er ice she ran:
‘I leave the righteous God behind;
I go to worship sinful man.’
She reached the sounding city's gate;
No question did the warder ask:
He passed her in: ‘Welcome, wild mate!’
He thought her some fantastic mask.
No question did the warder ask:
He passed her in: ‘Welcome, wild mate!’
He thought her some fantastic mask.
Half-naked through the town she went;
Each footstep left a bloody mark;
Crowds followed her with looks intent;
Her bright eyes made the torches dark.
Each footstep left a bloody mark;
Crowds followed her with looks intent;
Her bright eyes made the torches dark.
57
Alone and watching in the street
There stood a grave youth nobly dressed;
To him she knelt and kissed his feet;
Her face her great desire confessed.
There stood a grave youth nobly dressed;
To him she knelt and kissed his feet;
Her face her great desire confessed.
Straight to his house the nun he led:
‘Strange lady, what would you with me?’
‘Your love, your love, sweet lord,’ she said;
‘I bring you my virginity.’
‘Strange lady, what would you with me?’
‘Your love, your love, sweet lord,’ she said;
‘I bring you my virginity.’
He healed her bosom with a kiss;
She gave him all her passion's hoard;
And sobbed and murmured ever, ‘This
Is life's great meaning, dear, my lord.
She gave him all her passion's hoard;
And sobbed and murmured ever, ‘This
Is life's great meaning, dear, my lord.
‘I care not for my broken vow;
Though God should come in thunder soon,
I am sister to the mountains now,
And sister to the sun and moon.’
Though God should come in thunder soon,
I am sister to the mountains now,
And sister to the sun and moon.’
58
Through all the towns of Belmarie
She made a progress like a queen.
‘She is,’ they said, ‘whate'er she be,
The strangest woman ever seen.
She made a progress like a queen.
‘She is,’ they said, ‘whate'er she be,
The strangest woman ever seen.
‘From fairyland she must have come,
Or else she is a mermaiden.’
Some said she was a ghoul, and some
A heathen goddess born again.
Or else she is a mermaiden.’
Some said she was a ghoul, and some
A heathen goddess born again.
But soon her fire to ashes burned;
Her beauty changed to haggardness;
Her golden hair to silver turned;
The hour came of her last caress.
Her beauty changed to haggardness;
Her golden hair to silver turned;
The hour came of her last caress.
At midnight from her lonely bed
She rose, and said, ‘I have had my will.’
The old ragged robe she donned, and fled
Back to the convent on the hill.
She rose, and said, ‘I have had my will.’
The old ragged robe she donned, and fled
Back to the convent on the hill.
59
Half-naked as she went before,
She hurried to the city wall,
Unnoticed in the rush and roar
And splendour of the carnival.
She hurried to the city wall,
Unnoticed in the rush and roar
And splendour of the carnival.
No question did the warder ask:
Her ragged robe, her shrunken limb,
Her dreadful eyes! ‘It is no mask;
It is a she-wolf, gaunt and grim!’
Her ragged robe, her shrunken limb,
Her dreadful eyes! ‘It is no mask;
It is a she-wolf, gaunt and grim!’
She ran across the icy plain;
Her worn blood curdled in the blast;
Each footstep left a crimson stain;
The white-faced moon looked on aghast.
Her worn blood curdled in the blast;
Each footstep left a crimson stain;
The white-faced moon looked on aghast.
She said between her chattering jaws,
‘Deep peace is mine, I cease to strive;
Oh, comfortable convent laws,
That bury foolish nuns alive!
‘Deep peace is mine, I cease to strive;
Oh, comfortable convent laws,
That bury foolish nuns alive!
60
‘A trowel for my passing-bell,
A little bed within the wall,
A coverlet of stones; how well
I there shall keep the Carnival!’
A little bed within the wall,
A coverlet of stones; how well
I there shall keep the Carnival!’
Like tired bells chiming in their sleep,
The wind faint peals of laughter bore;
She stopped her ears and climbed the steep,
And thundered at the convent door.
The wind faint peals of laughter bore;
She stopped her ears and climbed the steep,
And thundered at the convent door.
It opened straight: she entered in,
And at the wardress’ feet fell prone:
‘I come to purge away my sin;
Bury me, close me up in stone.’
And at the wardress’ feet fell prone:
‘I come to purge away my sin;
Bury me, close me up in stone.’
The wardress raised her tenderly;
She touched her wet and fast-shut eyes:
‘Look, sister; sister, look at me;
Look; can you see through my disguise?’
She touched her wet and fast-shut eyes:
‘Look, sister; sister, look at me;
Look; can you see through my disguise?’
61
She looked and saw her own sad face,
And trembled, wondering, ‘Who art thou?’
‘God sent me down to fill your place:
I am the Virgin Mary now.’
And trembled, wondering, ‘Who art thou?’
‘God sent me down to fill your place:
I am the Virgin Mary now.’
And with the word, God's mother shone:
The wanderer whispered, ‘Mary, hail!’
The vision helped her to put on
Bracelet and fillet, ring and veil.
The wanderer whispered, ‘Mary, hail!’
The vision helped her to put on
Bracelet and fillet, ring and veil.
‘You are sister to the mountains now,
And sister to the day and night;
Sister to God.’ And on the brow
She kissed her thrice, and left her sight.
And sister to the day and night;
Sister to God.’ And on the brow
She kissed her thrice, and left her sight.
While dreaming in her cloudy bed,
Far in the crimson orient land,
On many a mountain's happy head
Dawn lightly laid her rosy hand.
Far in the crimson orient land,
On many a mountain's happy head
Dawn lightly laid her rosy hand.
62
THE VENGEANCE OF THE DUCHESS
The sun of Austerlitz had dawned and shone and set in blood,
When to Illyria Sigismund rode home by fell and flood.
When to Illyria Sigismund rode home by fell and flood.
‘What news, what news, Duke Sigismund?’ the
Duchess Agnes cried.
‘Heavy—an avalanche of lead,’ Duke Sigismund replied.
‘Heavy—an avalanche of lead,’ Duke Sigismund replied.
‘Across the astonished land the sun comes conquering from the west—
Napoleon's banners, purpled in the blood of Europe's best.’
Napoleon's banners, purpled in the blood of Europe's best.’
63
‘Heavy—an avalanche of lead!’ she echoed in dismay.
‘Take heart,’ he said. But she, ‘Ah me! this was our wedding-day
‘Take heart,’ he said. But she, ‘Ah me! this was our wedding-day
‘Five years ago!—Oh! that base churl, and unimagined thief,
That kingdom-breaker! Give me words, or I shall die of grief!
That kingdom-breaker! Give me words, or I shall die of grief!
‘Our wedding-day, and Europe fallen! How comes it that earth stands!’
She paced the room across, along, and wrung her jewelled hands.
She paced the room across, along, and wrung her jewelled hands.
At last a new thought dyed her cheek and set her eyes on fire:
‘Husband, upon my wedding-day, grant me my heart's desire.
‘Husband, upon my wedding-day, grant me my heart's desire.
64
‘I have a thing to do. Take horse.—You're tired, my love? Drink wine—
But come—you must—and ride with me to Idria's poisonous mine.’
But come—you must—and ride with me to Idria's poisonous mine.’
By circling paths adown the hill they rode, a toilsome way;
And came where in a cup-like gap the town of Idria lay.
And came where in a cup-like gap the town of Idria lay.
Far in the hideous mine the haughty Duchess Agnes found
The thing she sought for buried quick a mile beneath the ground:
The thing she sought for buried quick a mile beneath the ground:
A ghastly shape of palsied bones across the lamplight dim,
Scarce held together by the chains that bound him limb to limb.
Scarce held together by the chains that bound him limb to limb.
65
While on the earthy slate quicksilver globed itself like dew,
He struck the sulphurous cinnabar with feeble blows and few.
He struck the sulphurous cinnabar with feeble blows and few.
A clammy sweat welled over him and drenched his ragged sash;
Upon his back appeared the curious branch-work of the lash.
Upon his back appeared the curious branch-work of the lash.
The Duchess fed her eyes on him unconscious; then she said,
‘So, Casimir; poor Casimir!’ The prisoner raised his head,
‘So, Casimir; poor Casimir!’ The prisoner raised his head,
And ceased his work, but looked not round. She whispered to her lord,
‘The breathing corpse that swelters here and lives this death abhorred,
‘The breathing corpse that swelters here and lives this death abhorred,
66
‘Dared think of me, the noblest blood and highest heart there is!
Five years ago a youthful god he seemed; now is he—this!’
Five years ago a youthful god he seemed; now is he—this!’
And then aloud: ‘Aha! my foster-brother, Casimir!
Know then at last that it was I who had you buried here.
Know then at last that it was I who had you buried here.
‘You looked to me!—and yet you come of better-blooded curs
Than he who tramples on the necks of kings and emperors.
Than he who tramples on the necks of kings and emperors.
‘You looked to me, you peasant's son! So on my wedding-morn
You here were set, the enduring mark of my forgetful scorn.
You here were set, the enduring mark of my forgetful scorn.
67
‘From then till now your memory has been a bauble thrust
In some disused old cupboard and there left to gather dust.
In some disused old cupboard and there left to gather dust.
‘To-day my suffering soul recalled the vengeance I had wrought
On one who hurt my pride by silent look and secret thought.
On one who hurt my pride by silent look and secret thought.
‘Under the lash you toil and sweat and know nor day nor night,
Rotted with steaming mercury and blanched for lack of light.
Rotted with steaming mercury and blanched for lack of light.
‘In you I came to see what I would make of that false knave,
That giant-burglar, Bonaparte, the puddle-blooded slave!
That giant-burglar, Bonaparte, the puddle-blooded slave!
68
‘Do you remember Bonaparte who conquered Italy?
He is now the master of the world; while you—why, you are he—
He is now the master of the world; while you—why, you are he—
‘With fortunes cast like Bonaparte's, a match perhaps for him—
Who here lie buried quick to please an idle woman's whim.’
Who here lie buried quick to please an idle woman's whim.’
When she had done he raised his eyes—wide, hollow orbs. She shook
With instant dread, beholding awful meanings in his look.
With instant dread, beholding awful meanings in his look.
As feeble as a child's his dwindled flesh and palsied frame,
But manhood lightened round him from his glance of purest flame.
But manhood lightened round him from his glance of purest flame.
69
‘Agnes,’ he sighed; and that was all he uttered of rebuke.
He paused, and then melodiously said, though low, ‘You took
He paused, and then melodiously said, though low, ‘You took
‘God's way when here you buried me; nothing can touch my soul
To discord with the universe. I understand the whole
To discord with the universe. I understand the whole
‘Great wonder of creation: every atom in the earth
Aches to be man unconsciously, and every living birth—
Aches to be man unconsciously, and every living birth—
‘The lowest struggling motion and the fiercest blood on fire,
The tree, the flower, are pressing towards a future ever higher,
The tree, the flower, are pressing towards a future ever higher,
70
‘To reach that mood august wherein we know we suffer pain.
Napoleon! I am greater by this woe and by this chain;
Napoleon! I am greater by this woe and by this chain;
‘Because where all blaspheme and die, slaves of their agony,
I still am master of my thought, friend of my enemy.
I still am master of my thought, friend of my enemy.
‘I reverence the force that was before the world began,
And which in me obtained the signal grace to be a man.
And which in me obtained the signal grace to be a man.
‘Millions of men there are who happy live and happy die:
But what of that? I, too, am born a man, I, even I!’
But what of that? I, too, am born a man, I, even I!’
71
He shone on her serenely like a solitary star,
Then turned and toiled in anguish at the poisonous cinnabar.
Then turned and toiled in anguish at the poisonous cinnabar.
The Duchess gnawed her nether lip, but found no word to say.
‘The man is mad,’ the Duke declared, and led his wife away.
‘The man is mad,’ the Duke declared, and led his wife away.
Glory to those who conquer Fate and peace to those who fail!
But who would be the Duchess, who, her victor-victim pale?
But who would be the Duchess, who, her victor-victim pale?
72
A BALLAD OF HEAVEN
‘A Ballad of Heaven’ and ‘A Ballad of Hell’ are included here as they will not be reprinted in ‘A Random Itinerary’ and ‘Fleet Street Eclogues,’ and because I should like them to be read along with ‘A Ballad of the Making of a Poet’ and ‘A Ballad of the Exodus from Houndsditch.’ J. D.
He wrought at one great work for years;
The world passed by with lofty look:
Sometimes his eyes were dashed with tears;
Sometimes his lips with laughter shook.
The world passed by with lofty look:
Sometimes his eyes were dashed with tears;
Sometimes his lips with laughter shook.
His wife and child went clothed in rags,
And in a windy garret starved:
He trod his measures on the flags,
And high on heaven his music carved.
And in a windy garret starved:
He trod his measures on the flags,
And high on heaven his music carved.
Wistful he grew but never feared;
For always on the midnight skies
His rich orchestral score appeared
In stars and zones and galaxies.
For always on the midnight skies
His rich orchestral score appeared
In stars and zones and galaxies.
73
He thought to copy down his score:
The moonlight was his lamp: he said,
‘Listen, my love;’ but on the floor
His wife and child were lying dead.
The moonlight was his lamp: he said,
‘Listen, my love;’ but on the floor
His wife and child were lying dead.
Her hollow eyes were open wide;
He deemed she heard with special zest:
Her death's-head infant coldly eyed
The desert of her shrunken breast.
He deemed she heard with special zest:
Her death's-head infant coldly eyed
The desert of her shrunken breast.
‘Listen, my love: my work is done;
I tremble as I touch the page
To sign the sentence of the sun
And crown the great eternal age.
I tremble as I touch the page
To sign the sentence of the sun
And crown the great eternal age.
‘The slow adagio begins;
The winding-sheets are ravelled out
That swathe the minds of men, the sins
That wrap their rotting souls about.
The winding-sheets are ravelled out
That swathe the minds of men, the sins
That wrap their rotting souls about.
74
‘The dead are heralded along;
With silver trumps and golden drums,
And flutes and oboes, keen and strong,
My brave andante singing comes.
With silver trumps and golden drums,
And flutes and oboes, keen and strong,
My brave andante singing comes.
‘Then like a python's sumptuous dress
The frame of things is cast away,
And out of Time's obscure distress,
The thundering scherzo crashes Day.
The frame of things is cast away,
And out of Time's obscure distress,
The thundering scherzo crashes Day.
‘For three great orchestras I hope
My mighty music shall be scored:
On three high hills they shall have scope
With heaven's vault for a sounding-board.
My mighty music shall be scored:
On three high hills they shall have scope
With heaven's vault for a sounding-board.
‘Sleep well, love; let your eyelids fall;
Cover the child; goodnight, and if . . .
What? Speak . . . the traitorous end of all!
Both . . . cold and hungry . . . cold and stiff!
Cover the child; goodnight, and if . . .
What? Speak . . . the traitorous end of all!
Both . . . cold and hungry . . . cold and stiff!
75
‘But no, God means us well, I trust:
Dear ones, be happy, hope is nigh:
We are too young to fall to dust,
And too unsatisfied to die.’
Dear ones, be happy, hope is nigh:
We are too young to fall to dust,
And too unsatisfied to die.’
He lifted up against his breast
The woman's body stark and wan;
And to her withered bosom pressed
The little skin-clad skeleton.
The woman's body stark and wan;
And to her withered bosom pressed
The little skin-clad skeleton.
‘You see you are alive,’ he cried.
He rocked them gently to and fro.
‘No, no, my love, you have not died;
Nor you, my little fellow; no.’
He rocked them gently to and fro.
‘No, no, my love, you have not died;
Nor you, my little fellow; no.’
Long in his arms he strained his dead
And crooned an antique lullaby;
Then laid them on the lowly bed,
And broke down with a doleful cry.
And crooned an antique lullaby;
Then laid them on the lowly bed,
And broke down with a doleful cry.
76
‘The love, the hope, the blood, the brain,
Of her and me, the budding life,
And my great music—all in vain!
My unscored work, my child, my wife!
Of her and me, the budding life,
And my great music—all in vain!
My unscored work, my child, my wife!
‘We drop into oblivion,
And nourish some suburban sod:
My work, this woman, this my son,
Are now no more: there is no God.
And nourish some suburban sod:
My work, this woman, this my son,
Are now no more: there is no God.
‘The world's a dustbin; we are due,
And death's cart waits: be life accurst!’
He stumbled down beside the two,
And clasping them, his great heart burst.
And death's cart waits: be life accurst!’
He stumbled down beside the two,
And clasping them, his great heart burst.
Straightway he stood at heaven's gate,
Abashed and trembling for his sin:
I trow he had not long to wait,
For God came out and led him in.
Abashed and trembling for his sin:
I trow he had not long to wait,
For God came out and led him in.
77
And then there ran a radiant pair,
Ruddy with haste and eager-eyed
To meet him first upon the stair—
His wife and child beatified.
Ruddy with haste and eager-eyed
To meet him first upon the stair—
His wife and child beatified.
They clad him in a robe of light,
And gave him heavenly food to eat;
Great seraphs praised him to the height,
Archangels sat about his feet.
And gave him heavenly food to eat;
Great seraphs praised him to the height,
Archangels sat about his feet.
God, smiling, took him by the hand,
And led him to the brink of heaven:
He saw where systems whirling stand,
Where galaxies like snow are driven.
And led him to the brink of heaven:
He saw where systems whirling stand,
Where galaxies like snow are driven.
Dead silence reigned; a shudder ran
Through space; Time furled his wearied wings;
A slow adagio then began
Sweetly resolving troubled things.
Through space; Time furled his wearied wings;
A slow adagio then began
Sweetly resolving troubled things.
78
The dead were heralded along:
As if with drums and trumps of flame,
And flutes and oboes keen and strong,
A brave andante singing came.
As if with drums and trumps of flame,
And flutes and oboes keen and strong,
A brave andante singing came.
Then like a python's sumptuous dress
The frame of things was cast away,
And out of Time's obscure distress
The conquering scherzo thundered Day.
The frame of things was cast away,
And out of Time's obscure distress
The conquering scherzo thundered Day.
He doubted; but God said ‘Even so;
Nothing is lost that's wrought with tears:
The music that you made below
Is now the music of the spheres.’
Nothing is lost that's wrought with tears:
The music that you made below
Is now the music of the spheres.’
79
A BALLAD OF HELL
‘A letter from my love to-day!
Oh, unexpected, dear appeal!’
She struck a happy tear away,
And broke the crimson seal.
Oh, unexpected, dear appeal!’
She struck a happy tear away,
And broke the crimson seal.
‘My love, there is no help on earth,
No help in heaven; the dead-man's bell
Must toll our wedding; our first hearth
Must be the well-paved floor of hell.’
No help in heaven; the dead-man's bell
Must toll our wedding; our first hearth
Must be the well-paved floor of hell.’
The colour died from out her face,
Her eyes like ghostly candles shone;
She cast dread looks about the place,
Then clenched her teeth and read right on.
Her eyes like ghostly candles shone;
She cast dread looks about the place,
Then clenched her teeth and read right on.
80
‘I may not pass the prison door;
Here must I rot from day to day,
Unless I wed whom I abhor,
My cousin, Blanche of Valencay.
Here must I rot from day to day,
Unless I wed whom I abhor,
My cousin, Blanche of Valencay.
‘At midnight with my dagger keen,
I'll take my life; it must be so.
Meet me in hell to-night, my queen,
For weal and woe.’
I'll take my life; it must be so.
Meet me in hell to-night, my queen,
For weal and woe.’
She laughed although her face was wan,
She girded on her golden belt,
She took her jewelled ivory fan,
And at her glowing missal knelt.
She girded on her golden belt,
She took her jewelled ivory fan,
And at her glowing missal knelt.
Then rose, ‘And am I mad?’ she said:
She broke her fan, her belt untied;
With leather girt herself instead,
And stuck a dagger at her side.
She broke her fan, her belt untied;
With leather girt herself instead,
And stuck a dagger at her side.
81
She waited, shuddering in her room,
Till sleep had fallen on all the house.
She never flinched; she faced her doom:
They two must sin to keep their vows.
Till sleep had fallen on all the house.
She never flinched; she faced her doom:
They two must sin to keep their vows.
Then out into the night she went,
And stooping crept by hedge and tree;
Her rose-bush flung a snare of scent,
And caught a happy memory.
And stooping crept by hedge and tree;
Her rose-bush flung a snare of scent,
And caught a happy memory.
She fell, and lay a minute's space;
She tore the sward in her distress;
The dewy grass refreshed her face;
She rose and ran with lifted dress.
She tore the sward in her distress;
The dewy grass refreshed her face;
She rose and ran with lifted dress.
She started like a morn-caught ghost
Once when the moon came out and stood
To watch; the naked road she crossed,
And dived into the murmuring wood.
Once when the moon came out and stood
To watch; the naked road she crossed,
And dived into the murmuring wood.
82
The branches snatched her streaming cloak;
A live thing shrieked; she made no stay!
She hurried to the trysting-oak—
Right well she knew the way.
A live thing shrieked; she made no stay!
She hurried to the trysting-oak—
Right well she knew the way.
Without a pause she bared her breast,
And drove her dagger home and fell,
And lay like one that takes her rest,
And died and wakened up in hell.
And drove her dagger home and fell,
And lay like one that takes her rest,
And died and wakened up in hell.
She bathed her spirit in the flame,
And near the centre took her post;
From all sides to her ears there came,
The dreary anguish of the lost.
And near the centre took her post;
From all sides to her ears there came,
The dreary anguish of the lost.
The devil started at her side,
Comely, and tall, and black as jet.
‘I am young Malespina's bride;
Has he come hither yet?’
Comely, and tall, and black as jet.
‘I am young Malespina's bride;
Has he come hither yet?’
83
‘My poppet, welcome to your bed.’
‘Is Malespina here?’
‘Not he! To-morrow he must wed
His cousin Blanche, my dear!’
‘Is Malespina here?’
‘Not he! To-morrow he must wed
His cousin Blanche, my dear!’
‘You lie, he died with me to-night.’
‘Not he! it was a plot.’ ‘You lie.
‘My dear, I never lie outright.’
‘We died at midnight he and I.’
‘Not he! it was a plot.’ ‘You lie.
‘My dear, I never lie outright.’
‘We died at midnight he and I.’
The devil went. Without a groan
She, gathered up in one fierce prayer,
Took root in hell's midst all alone,
And waited for him there.
She, gathered up in one fierce prayer,
Took root in hell's midst all alone,
And waited for him there.
She dared to make herself at home
Amidst the wail, the uneasy stir.
The blood-stained flame that filled the dome,
Scentless and silent, shrouded her.
Amidst the wail, the uneasy stir.
The blood-stained flame that filled the dome,
Scentless and silent, shrouded her.
84
How long she stayed I cannot tell;
But when she felt his perfidy,
She marched across the floor of hell;
And all the damned stood up to see.
But when she felt his perfidy,
She marched across the floor of hell;
And all the damned stood up to see.
The devil stopped her at the brink:
She shook him off; she cried, ‘Away!’
‘My dear, you have gone mad, I think.’
‘I was betrayed: I will not stay.’
She shook him off; she cried, ‘Away!’
‘My dear, you have gone mad, I think.’
‘I was betrayed: I will not stay.’
Across the weltering deep she ran;
A stranger thing was never seen:
The damned stood silent to a man;
They saw the great gulf set between.
A stranger thing was never seen:
The damned stood silent to a man;
They saw the great gulf set between.
To her it seemed a meadow fair;
And flowers sprang up about her feet;
She entered heaven; she climbed the stair;
And knelt down at the mercy-seat.
And flowers sprang up about her feet;
She entered heaven; she climbed the stair;
And knelt down at the mercy-seat.
85
Seraphs and saints with one great voice
Welcomed that soul that knew not fear;
Amazed to find it could rejoice,
Hell raised a hoarse half-human cheer.
Welcomed that soul that knew not fear;
Amazed to find it could rejoice,
Hell raised a hoarse half-human cheer.
86
LONDON
Athwart the sky a lowly sigh
From west to east the sweet wind carried;
The sun stood still on Primrose Hill;
His light in all the city tarried:
The clouds on viewless columns bloomed
Like smouldering lilies unconsumed.
From west to east the sweet wind carried;
The sun stood still on Primrose Hill;
His light in all the city tarried:
The clouds on viewless columns bloomed
Like smouldering lilies unconsumed.
‘Oh sweetheart, see! how shadowy,
Of some occult magician's rearing,
Or swung in space of heaven's grace
Dissolving, dimly reappearing,
Afloat upon ethereal tides
St Paul's above the city rides!’
Of some occult magician's rearing,
Or swung in space of heaven's grace
Dissolving, dimly reappearing,
Afloat upon ethereal tides
St Paul's above the city rides!’
87
A rumour broke through the thin smoke
Enwreathing abbey, tower, and palace,
The parks, the squares, the thoroughfares,
The million-peopled lanes and alleys,
An ever-muttering prisoned storm,
The heart of London beating warm.
Enwreathing abbey, tower, and palace,
The parks, the squares, the thoroughfares,
The million-peopled lanes and alleys,
An ever-muttering prisoned storm,
The heart of London beating warm.
88
A LOAFER
I hang about the streets all day,
At night I hang about;
I sleep a little when I may,
But rise betimes the morning's scout;
For through the year I always hear
Afar, aloft, a ghostly shout.
At night I hang about;
I sleep a little when I may,
But rise betimes the morning's scout;
For through the year I always hear
Afar, aloft, a ghostly shout.
My clothes are worn to threads and loops;
My skin shows here and there;
About my face like seaweed droops
My tangled beard, my tangled hair;
From cavernous and shaggy brows
My stony eyes untroubled stare.
My skin shows here and there;
About my face like seaweed droops
My tangled beard, my tangled hair;
From cavernous and shaggy brows
My stony eyes untroubled stare.
89
I move from eastern wretchedness
Through Fleet Street and the Strand;
And as the pleasant people press
I touch them softly with my hand,
Perhaps to know that still I go
Alive about a living land.
Through Fleet Street and the Strand;
And as the pleasant people press
I touch them softly with my hand,
Perhaps to know that still I go
Alive about a living land.
For, far in front the clouds are riven;
I hear the ghostly cry,
As if a still voice fell from heaven
To where sea-whelmed the drowned folk lie
In sepulchres no tempest stirs
And only eyeless things pass by.
I hear the ghostly cry,
As if a still voice fell from heaven
To where sea-whelmed the drowned folk lie
In sepulchres no tempest stirs
And only eyeless things pass by.
In Piccadilly spirits pass:
Oh, eyes and cheeks that glow!
Oh, strength and comeliness! Alas,
The lustrous health is earth I know
From shrinking eyes that recognise
No brother in my rags and woe.
Oh, eyes and cheeks that glow!
Oh, strength and comeliness! Alas,
The lustrous health is earth I know
90
No brother in my rags and woe.
I know no handicraft, no art,
But I have conquered fate;
For I have chosen the better part,
And neither hope, nor fear, nor hate.
With placid breath on pain and death,
My certain alms, alone I wait.
But I have conquered fate;
For I have chosen the better part,
And neither hope, nor fear, nor hate.
With placid breath on pain and death,
My certain alms, alone I wait.
And daily, nightly comes the call,
The pale unechoing note,
The faint ‘Aha!’ sent from the wall
Of heaven, but from no ruddy throat
Of human breed or seraph's seed,
A phantom voice that cries by rote.
The pale unechoing note,
The faint ‘Aha!’ sent from the wall
Of heaven, but from no ruddy throat
Of human breed or seraph's seed,
A phantom voice that cries by rote.
91
THIRTY BOB A WEEK
I couldn't touch a stop and turn a screw,
And set the blooming world a-work for me,
Like such as cut their teeth—I hope, like you—
On the handle of a skeleton gold key;
I cut mine on a leek, which I eat it every week:
I'm a clerk at thirty bob as you can see.
And set the blooming world a-work for me,
Like such as cut their teeth—I hope, like you—
On the handle of a skeleton gold key;
I cut mine on a leek, which I eat it every week:
I'm a clerk at thirty bob as you can see.
But I don't allow it's luck and all a toss;
There's no such thing as being starred and crossed;
It's just the power of some to be a boss,
And the bally power of others to be bossed:
I face the music, sir; you bet I ain't a cur;
Strike me lucky if I don't believe I'm lost!
There's no such thing as being starred and crossed;
It's just the power of some to be a boss,
And the bally power of others to be bossed:
92
Strike me lucky if I don't believe I'm lost!
For like a mole I journey in the dark,
A-travelling along the underground
From my Pillar'd Halls and broad Suburbean Park,
To come the daily dull official round;
And home again at night with my pipe all alight,
A-scheming how to count ten bob a pound.
A-travelling along the underground
From my Pillar'd Halls and broad Suburbean Park,
To come the daily dull official round;
And home again at night with my pipe all alight,
A-scheming how to count ten bob a pound.
And it's often very cold and very wet,
And my missis stitches towels for a hunks;
And the Pillar'd Halls is half of it to let—
Three rooms about the size of travelling trunks.
And we cough, my wife and I, to dislocate a sigh,
When the noisy little kids are in their bunks.
And my missis stitches towels for a hunks;
And the Pillar'd Halls is half of it to let—
Three rooms about the size of travelling trunks.
And we cough, my wife and I, to dislocate a sigh,
When the noisy little kids are in their bunks.
93
But you never hear her do a growl or whine,
For she's made of flint and roses, very odd;
And I've got to cut my meaning rather fine,
Or I'd blubber, for I'm made of greens and sod:
So p'r'aps we are in Hell for all that I can tell,
And lost and damn'd and served up hot to God.
For she's made of flint and roses, very odd;
And I've got to cut my meaning rather fine,
Or I'd blubber, for I'm made of greens and sod:
So p'r'aps we are in Hell for all that I can tell,
And lost and damn'd and served up hot to God.
I ain't blaspheming, Mr Silver-tongue;
I'm saying things a bit beyond your art:
Of all the rummy starts you ever sprung,
Thirty bob a week's the rummiest start!
With your science and your books and your the'ries about spooks,
Did you ever hear of looking in your heart?
I'm saying things a bit beyond your art:
Of all the rummy starts you ever sprung,
Thirty bob a week's the rummiest start!
With your science and your books and your the'ries about spooks,
Did you ever hear of looking in your heart?
I didn't mean your pocket, Mr., no:
I mean that having children and a wife,
With thirty bob on which to come and go,
Isn't dancing to the tabor and the fife:
When it doesn't make you drink, by Heaven! it makes you think,
And notice curious items about life.
I mean that having children and a wife,
94
Isn't dancing to the tabor and the fife:
When it doesn't make you drink, by Heaven! it makes you think,
And notice curious items about life.
I step into my heart and there I meet
A god-almighty devil singing small,
Who would like to shout and whistle in the street,
And squelch the passers flat against the wall;
If the whole world was a cake he had the power to take,
He would take it, ask for more, and eat it all.
A god-almighty devil singing small,
Who would like to shout and whistle in the street,
And squelch the passers flat against the wall;
If the whole world was a cake he had the power to take,
He would take it, ask for more, and eat it all.
And I meet a sort of simpleton beside,
The kind that life is always giving beans;
With thirty bob a week to keep a bride
He fell in love and married in his teens:
At thirty bob he stuck; but he knows it isn't luck:
He knows the seas are deeper than tureens.
The kind that life is always giving beans;
With thirty bob a week to keep a bride
He fell in love and married in his teens:
95
He knows the seas are deeper than tureens.
And the god-almighty devil and the fool
That meet me in the High Street on the strike,
When I walk about my heart a-gathering wool,
Are my good and evil angels if you like.
And both of them together in every kind of weather
Ride me like a double-seated bike.
That meet me in the High Street on the strike,
When I walk about my heart a-gathering wool,
Are my good and evil angels if you like.
And both of them together in every kind of weather
Ride me like a double-seated bike.
That's rough a bit and needs its meaning curled.
But I have a high old hot un in my mind—
A most engrugious notion of the world,
That leaves your lightning 'rithmetic behind:
I give it at a glance when I say ‘There ain't no chance,
Nor nothing of the lucky-lottery kind.’
But I have a high old hot un in my mind—
A most engrugious notion of the world,
That leaves your lightning 'rithmetic behind:
I give it at a glance when I say ‘There ain't no chance,
Nor nothing of the lucky-lottery kind.’
96
And it's this way that I make it out to be:
No fathers, mothers, countries, climates—none;
Not Adam was responsible for me,
Nor society, nor systems, nary one:
A little sleeping seed, I woke—I did, indeed—
A million years before the blooming sun.
No fathers, mothers, countries, climates—none;
Not Adam was responsible for me,
Nor society, nor systems, nary one:
A little sleeping seed, I woke—I did, indeed—
A million years before the blooming sun.
I woke because I thought the time had come;
Beyond my will there was no other cause;
And everywhere I found myself at home,
Because I chose to be the thing I was;
And in whatever shape of mollusc or of ape
I always went according to the laws.
Beyond my will there was no other cause;
And everywhere I found myself at home,
Because I chose to be the thing I was;
And in whatever shape of mollusc or of ape
I always went according to the laws.
I was the love that chose my mother out;
I joined two lives and from the union burst;
My weakness and my strength without a doubt
Are mine alone for ever from the first:
It's just the very same with a difference in the name
As ‘Thy will be done.’ You say it if you durst!
I joined two lives and from the union burst;
My weakness and my strength without a doubt
Are mine alone for ever from the first:
97
As ‘Thy will be done.’ You say it if you durst!
They say it daily up and down the land
As easy as you take a drink, it's true;
But the difficultest go to understand,
And the difficultest job a man can do,
Is to come it brave and meek with thirty bob a week,
And feel that that's the proper thing for you.
As easy as you take a drink, it's true;
But the difficultest go to understand,
And the difficultest job a man can do,
Is to come it brave and meek with thirty bob a week,
And feel that that's the proper thing for you.
It's naked child against a hungry wolf;
It's playing bowls upon a splitting wreck;
It's walking on a string across a gulf
With millstones fore-and-aft about your neck;
But the thing is daily done by many and many a one;
And we fall, face forward, fighting, on the deck.
It's playing bowls upon a splitting wreck;
It's walking on a string across a gulf
With millstones fore-and-aft about your neck;
But the thing is daily done by many and many a one;
And we fall, face forward, fighting, on the deck.
| Ballads & Songs | |