 | Praeterita (1863) |  |
19
THE CHEERFUL AGE.
More wrinkles score my brow than frowns,
Uncheck'd my merry vein,
For age, that gives us balder crowns,
Makes ripe the under brain.
Uncheck'd my merry vein,
For age, that gives us balder crowns,
Makes ripe the under brain.
Of something yet they rob us still
These years that make us wise,
For maids grow fair as then they were,
But we look with other eyes.
These years that make us wise,
For maids grow fair as then they were,
But we look with other eyes.
And what was music to our youth
Is discord to our age:
The songs we loved as vivid truth
Are tinsell'd verbiage.
Is discord to our age:
The songs we loved as vivid truth
Are tinsell'd verbiage.
20
We cannot mend the race of things
That jostles towards solution:
'Twill see us out thro' falls and springs,
One stride more near conclusion.
That jostles towards solution:
'Twill see us out thro' falls and springs,
One stride more near conclusion.
There's sorrow if we earth it out,
But ease if we prefer it.
Then leave the thorn and pluck the rose,
And next thy bosom wear it.
But ease if we prefer it.
Then leave the thorn and pluck the rose,
And next thy bosom wear it.
O'er leagues of coast the rough foam flings:
There still are quiet havens;
If o'er our head one sky-lark sings
We heed not twenty ravens.
There still are quiet havens;
If o'er our head one sky-lark sings
We heed not twenty ravens.
This world is in a slippery state,
And men are fools to grumble,
If, like a boy who learns to skate,
They marvel at a tumble.
And men are fools to grumble,
If, like a boy who learns to skate,
They marvel at a tumble.
21
But wisdom this and wisdom that,
And every man her master,
While only hearts of season'd proof
Can weather life's disaster.
And every man her master,
While only hearts of season'd proof
Can weather life's disaster.
Can find youth sped and bid him speed,
Nor question out the reason;
Then cheerly raise the latch to age,
A quest, tho' sour, in season.
Nor question out the reason;
Then cheerly raise the latch to age,
A quest, tho' sour, in season.
22
AT LAST.
We toss and twist upon a restless bed;Sleep comes at last.
Our Love denies, and yet denies again,
But yields at last.
The apple grows and ripens many days,
But falls at last.
And we are riped with joy, and marr'd with tears,
But end at last!
24
HYPERBOLE.
Ripe on the eyelids as a precious dream,
Soft on the lip as lips of coral seam,
Sweet on the ear as an imagined stream
Threading between the full woods and the moon.
Soft on the lip as lips of coral seam,
Sweet on the ear as an imagined stream
Threading between the full woods and the moon.
Mellow as harvest song at steamy noon,
Lovely as cuckoo's voice that cometh soon,
Drowsy as music of the branch in June,
And tremulous linnet-pipe by broom or thorn.
Lovely as cuckoo's voice that cometh soon,
Drowsy as music of the branch in June,
And tremulous linnet-pipe by broom or thorn.
Or shall I search the silver rose of morn,
The royal fisher's wing, the fleecy lawn
Of mountain lamb, all hues in nature born,
To find my Love's compare or deck her grace?
The royal fisher's wing, the fleecy lawn
Of mountain lamb, all hues in nature born,
To find my Love's compare or deck her grace?
36
AN EVENING BY THE FIRE.
When frogs pipe out in dripping dykes,
And autumn wolds are sallow:
When pigeons leave the stubble spikes,
And homeward oxen bellow:
And autumn wolds are sallow:
When pigeons leave the stubble spikes,
And homeward oxen bellow:
And singing under greying blue,
The ditcher and his fellow
Come drenched knee-deep from pasture-dew,
And foot-clogged from the fallow:
The ditcher and his fellow
Come drenched knee-deep from pasture-dew,
And foot-clogged from the fallow:
The black frost in the white frost's wake
May nip the marsh-buds yellow,
And kindling under branch and brake
The raying sunset mellow:
May nip the marsh-buds yellow,
And kindling under branch and brake
The raying sunset mellow:
37
Thro' branch and towards the trysting style
Where skims each mustering swallow;
As sits the lass to rest awhile,
Strolls up some sheepish fellow.
Where skims each mustering swallow;
As sits the lass to rest awhile,
Strolls up some sheepish fellow.
Our sun-track draws tonight as this
That floods the level fallow:
Yon maiden's cheek is ripe to kiss,
But ours are lank and hollow.
That floods the level fallow:
Yon maiden's cheek is ripe to kiss,
But ours are lank and hollow.
Our youth is gone, like this fair day,
Our rusty bones shall follow,
And rest they say, for heads of gray,
Comes on a churchyard pillow.
Our rusty bones shall follow,
And rest they say, for heads of gray,
Comes on a churchyard pillow.
So runs it well, so runs it ill,
What must be we must swallow.
We'll keep a merry heart up still,
Unsered, fresh, young, and callow.
What must be we must swallow.
We'll keep a merry heart up still,
Unsered, fresh, young, and callow.
38
Draw closer to the blaze, old friend,
Our ale is stiff and mellow.
We have not much more light to spend,
Two guttered ends of tallow.
Our ale is stiff and mellow.
We have not much more light to spend,
Two guttered ends of tallow.
But I will grasp thee by the hand,
What tho' thy cheek be yellow,
I'll swear that thro' the whole broad land
Ne'er walked a better fellow.
What tho' thy cheek be yellow,
I'll swear that thro' the whole broad land
Ne'er walked a better fellow.
99
A FUTURE.
Thy lore may be the vocal memories
Of idols overthrown, imperial hours:
Thy lute may moan perpetual monodies
Of desecrated bowers.
Of idols overthrown, imperial hours:
Thy lute may moan perpetual monodies
Of desecrated bowers.
Thy creed may be to move in solemn shade,
With drooping head, a dream upon an earth
Of careless creatures—proudly disarray'd
Of any masking mirth.
With drooping head, a dream upon an earth
Of careless creatures—proudly disarray'd
Of any masking mirth.
Thy rest may be a rest we cannot know—
Beyond sleek envy's scorn and cant of sneers—
Pervaded with the secret strength of woe,
Yet consecrate to tears.
Beyond sleek envy's scorn and cant of sneers—
Pervaded with the secret strength of woe,
Yet consecrate to tears.
101
A LAMENT.
O gentle day and milky cloud,
O faint and flowing sea,
More fair than human estimate
I read the story of your state—
If you could comfort me!
O faint and flowing sea,
More fair than human estimate
I read the story of your state—
If you could comfort me!
O gloom of clouds and rocking boughs,
Thou fierce and furrow'd sea,
Boom round yon isles of dreamy glow,
And strow the rose with driven snow,
That cannot comfort me.
Thou fierce and furrow'd sea,
Boom round yon isles of dreamy glow,
And strow the rose with driven snow,
That cannot comfort me.
102
FRAGMENT OF AN ALLEGORY.
My tale is but a shadow and a sign.
Between the column'd summits broadly strown,
The billowy light converged to blood-red zone.
Lovely, and waning as a thing divine,
Came eve, as even never came before,
With red-gray rush to stagger to their core
Eternal steeps, mysterious; by whose crest
The floated vapour shattering over-bore
The bleak-eyed raven in his glacier nest.
Not less, when all the naked summits wore
An echo-warmth against their iris west,
Failed out the silken melancholy gleam
Celestial, failing under spectral ways,
All blindness, whence the sky-prevailing rays
Are lost, as some great thought that threads a dream,
And lost the crimson wreaths that ring'd the burning stream.
Between the column'd summits broadly strown,
The billowy light converged to blood-red zone.
Lovely, and waning as a thing divine,
Came eve, as even never came before,
With red-gray rush to stagger to their core
Eternal steeps, mysterious; by whose crest
The floated vapour shattering over-bore
The bleak-eyed raven in his glacier nest.
Not less, when all the naked summits wore
An echo-warmth against their iris west,
Failed out the silken melancholy gleam
Celestial, failing under spectral ways,
All blindness, whence the sky-prevailing rays
111
And lost the crimson wreaths that ring'd the burning stream.
There sat the glittering heights immoveable,
Roof'd with the sun and stair'd in ridgey seams,
Holding the folded azure's vapour streams;
And from those heights a level dull and grey,
Dull as its sand and pale as pale decay,
Dispread perpetual towards a shining sea
That was but mirage cloud, which blent away
And to the skies glow'd vast and mightily.
Roof'd with the sun and stair'd in ridgey seams,
Holding the folded azure's vapour streams;
And from those heights a level dull and grey,
Dull as its sand and pale as pale decay,
Dispread perpetual towards a shining sea
That was but mirage cloud, which blent away
And to the skies glow'd vast and mightily.
There an old man was seated on a bulk
Of salt, that beasts had lick'd in pits and jags,
With great knees huddled towards his chin, and shrunk
His lean ring'd throat which fell in fleshless bags.
Above him spread illimitable crags,
And gray lights trembled from them: and his arm
Trembled from wrist to elbow where his face
Rested; the other moved not from its place
Saving to screen his eyes, when over-warm
A chance gleam wounding bit their weak white scums:
And then he mumbled groans and stirr'd his mouth
To show one wolf-tooth hung in rusty gums;
Nodding with ague, if the whispering south
Breathed but to puff a thistle seed along,
And the woods bloom'd beneath it: yet his limbs
Were palsied, and a wrinkling shiver strong
Winning fierce way from foot to forehead climbs.
Of salt, that beasts had lick'd in pits and jags,
With great knees huddled towards his chin, and shrunk
His lean ring'd throat which fell in fleshless bags.
Above him spread illimitable crags,
And gray lights trembled from them: and his arm
Trembled from wrist to elbow where his face
112
Saving to screen his eyes, when over-warm
A chance gleam wounding bit their weak white scums:
And then he mumbled groans and stirr'd his mouth
To show one wolf-tooth hung in rusty gums;
Nodding with ague, if the whispering south
Breathed but to puff a thistle seed along,
And the woods bloom'd beneath it: yet his limbs
Were palsied, and a wrinkling shiver strong
Winning fierce way from foot to forehead climbs.
For wizard he had been of knowledge ripe,
But that a stronger weird had chain'd him there
In this perpetual solitude. The gripe
Of age was on him, and a lean despair
Of impotence that held him from his share
In those delights his stronger years had fed:
They, blasted as the scalp of his foul head
In seamy gaps or slimy mats of hair,
Had perish'd inch-meal, but the ache lived on
In that great mesh of ruin, made its lair
By all corruption; as the fire-worm's glow
Among the rotting leaves. There, woe-begone,
He sate, and on the furthest peaky snow
He lifted melancholy eye-balls rolling slow.
But that a stronger weird had chain'd him there
In this perpetual solitude. The gripe
Of age was on him, and a lean despair
Of impotence that held him from his share
In those delights his stronger years had fed:
They, blasted as the scalp of his foul head
In seamy gaps or slimy mats of hair,
Had perish'd inch-meal, but the ache lived on
113
By all corruption; as the fire-worm's glow
Among the rotting leaves. There, woe-begone,
He sate, and on the furthest peaky snow
He lifted melancholy eye-balls rolling slow.
Ay, on the limit of eternal rock,
Or on the upper limitless expanse,
Or where lake mirrors crossing clouds bemock,
Painting as sharp below their plumed advance,
As one that sees such prospect in a trance,
He gazed, and gazing doubted all he saw
For phantom mist or mirage: and he loathed
The stately hills past loathing, glory-clothed,
And found in fairest thing a falsehood and a flaw,
Doubting himself besides and loathing nature's law.
Or on the upper limitless expanse,
Or where lake mirrors crossing clouds bemock,
Painting as sharp below their plumed advance,
As one that sees such prospect in a trance,
He gazed, and gazing doubted all he saw
For phantom mist or mirage: and he loathed
The stately hills past loathing, glory-clothed,
And found in fairest thing a falsehood and a flaw,
Doubting himself besides and loathing nature's law.
119
THE ARCADIAN SHEPHERD.
Love of the rosy neck, the restless hair,
The vales are breezeless, and the ring-dove's voice
Sweetens or ebbs her patient aching pipe,
Delicious throes of one old monody,
Told and retold, immortal, to the hours.
The footsteps of the sunlight, steam'd in blue,
Melt from the veilèd portals of the flowers
A cloudiness of dews, like trembling dust
Behind the wayfarer: the onward lengths
Fall bevill'd, seas of leaves and branching plains,
Whereon the high noon striking, draws beneath
In films of glimmering azure, zone by zone.
And all the broad and creeping splendour-flakes
Hover or wane their ripple woofs of floor.
The swan, who by the sacred courses feeds,
Beam-caught has made one star-point of his down.
The vales are breezeless, and the ring-dove's voice
Sweetens or ebbs her patient aching pipe,
Delicious throes of one old monody,
Told and retold, immortal, to the hours.
The footsteps of the sunlight, steam'd in blue,
Melt from the veilèd portals of the flowers
A cloudiness of dews, like trembling dust
Behind the wayfarer: the onward lengths
Fall bevill'd, seas of leaves and branching plains,
Whereon the high noon striking, draws beneath
In films of glimmering azure, zone by zone.
And all the broad and creeping splendour-flakes
Hover or wane their ripple woofs of floor.
120
Beam-caught has made one star-point of his down.
Thy shepherd in the shadows of the hills,
I teach the forest lawns my trembling notes
And brooding modulation of my loves,
Where ripe noon sows the lazy woods with flowers,
Moss-hyacinth and wind blooms and the rings
Of purple vetches dazzling some sere pine
With intertissued bravery as it dies—
With love that comes too late in narrow time:
We love a little here and fall asleep
In earth: the fresh woods mix not with our dreams.
The dead are past our grieving; not for these
The tamarisk thickets waver, or the Hours
Teach music to the branch, nor fountain-head
Wakefully pulses out ambrosial sleep,
With wave-drift, rainbows, and far-silvered heights
Breaking along its changes towards the dawn.
I teach the forest lawns my trembling notes
And brooding modulation of my loves,
Where ripe noon sows the lazy woods with flowers,
Moss-hyacinth and wind blooms and the rings
Of purple vetches dazzling some sere pine
With intertissued bravery as it dies—
With love that comes too late in narrow time:
We love a little here and fall asleep
In earth: the fresh woods mix not with our dreams.
The dead are past our grieving; not for these
The tamarisk thickets waver, or the Hours
Teach music to the branch, nor fountain-head
Wakefully pulses out ambrosial sleep,
With wave-drift, rainbows, and far-silvered heights
Breaking along its changes towards the dawn.
Deny not, love, for love is short in prime,
So short, the fruit scarce ripe, the bloom-down fades;
Reap in these fluttering moments ere they change,
Loved or unloved the rough wind strips the tree.
121
Reap in these fluttering moments ere they change,
Loved or unloved the rough wind strips the tree.
Nay, rather come and rest beside me here,
The martens titter round the silver rock,
The wood-bee hoarding in a wealth of combs;
Nay come, I wait thee elbow-deep in flowers.
The deep woods swoon with solitude divine;
Grape clusters, ivy, poppies, tumbled pears,
The gush of streams, and vistas of the Sun
Leaning his sacred forehead towards the waves.
The martens titter round the silver rock,
The wood-bee hoarding in a wealth of combs;
Nay come, I wait thee elbow-deep in flowers.
The deep woods swoon with solitude divine;
Grape clusters, ivy, poppies, tumbled pears,
The gush of streams, and vistas of the Sun
Leaning his sacred forehead towards the waves.
Come, ere one sterile leaf of autumn sways,
Come, ere one crisp bough sickens to the doom
Of winter: ere the coronal I laid
Breathless beneath the lintel of thy bower
Has pined its crumpling petals with delay
Sick for thy spicy tresses. Dearest, come,
Where under umbrage of delicious coves
The dusty cygnets watch their gleaming sires,
And sedge-hair brushes the rosed filbert's cheek,
And bunch and reed shake pictured in the wave.
There, halcyons crown the under-gliding calm,
There, the kid, blinking in the sweet-flag net,
Butts thro' the osier-thick narcissus fringe;
His eager nostrils dwell in leaning thirst,
And sailing fishes watch him, golden-eyed.
Come, ere one crisp bough sickens to the doom
Of winter: ere the coronal I laid
Breathless beneath the lintel of thy bower
Has pined its crumpling petals with delay
Sick for thy spicy tresses. Dearest, come,
Where under umbrage of delicious coves
The dusty cygnets watch their gleaming sires,
122
And bunch and reed shake pictured in the wave.
There, halcyons crown the under-gliding calm,
There, the kid, blinking in the sweet-flag net,
Butts thro' the osier-thick narcissus fringe;
His eager nostrils dwell in leaning thirst,
And sailing fishes watch him, golden-eyed.
Cruel! I waste my piping and my heart;
The rocks have answer'd, but thy voice is dumb.
The nightingales change music with the doves;
The thrush remurmurs, emulous of song.
Thou speakest not, and, widowed of thy voice,
The solitudes of pine are tranced with fear.
Thy proud limbs move not in the tangled fern.
Silent art thou, as some snow-freighted cloud,
Robed in a frigid glory, cold and calm;
With cruel lips and very noble eyes.
And thou hast filled my heart, as some first dove
Possesses with one song the early woods.
Scornful and fair, in time relent—return!
Where ripe days flout the gracious dues of love,
Sere Age in sequel deals self-hating hours
Of solitary wrinkles unbeloved.
So thou relent, and reap the barren years.
Arise, and Love shall guide thee thro' the meads,
By rooted lilies, wonders of the spring,
By vermeil-curtain'd poppies deep in grain,
And all the fair ripe summer thro' the land;
Until his finger on my threshold rest,
My home is yonder and my home is thine.
The rocks have answer'd, but thy voice is dumb.
The nightingales change music with the doves;
The thrush remurmurs, emulous of song.
Thou speakest not, and, widowed of thy voice,
The solitudes of pine are tranced with fear.
Thy proud limbs move not in the tangled fern.
Silent art thou, as some snow-freighted cloud,
Robed in a frigid glory, cold and calm;
With cruel lips and very noble eyes.
And thou hast filled my heart, as some first dove
Possesses with one song the early woods.
Scornful and fair, in time relent—return!
123
Sere Age in sequel deals self-hating hours
Of solitary wrinkles unbeloved.
So thou relent, and reap the barren years.
Arise, and Love shall guide thee thro' the meads,
By rooted lilies, wonders of the spring,
By vermeil-curtain'd poppies deep in grain,
And all the fair ripe summer thro' the land;
Until his finger on my threshold rest,
My home is yonder and my home is thine.
FINIS.
| Praeterita (1863) | |