 | Lord Vyet and Other Poems |  |
τελευταιον δε παντων ξυνισταται
η αρμονια, και πρωτον απολλυται
η αρμονια, και πρωτον απολλυται
THE SIREN
Rest thee in a field of fountains:
Wanderer, wilt thou further go?
Range the large and lonely mountains?
“Ah, no, no!”
Wanderer, wilt thou further go?
Range the large and lonely mountains?
“Ah, no, no!”
Here the welling wave shall strengthen
Thee, to brave the further stress;
Rest thee, till the shadows lengthen:—
“Ah, yes, yes!”
Thee, to brave the further stress;
Rest thee, till the shadows lengthen:—
“Ah, yes, yes!”
See, the angry sun grows stronger,
Faintly smiles the weary day;
Wanderer, rest a little longer;
Ah, stay, stay!
Faintly smiles the weary day;
Wanderer, rest a little longer;
Ah, stay, stay!
7
See, the place of storms, the hated
Ridge, with high and hungry crest:
Thou art even now belated:
So rest, rest!
Ridge, with high and hungry crest:
Thou art even now belated:
So rest, rest!
“Nay, alas! I fear to lose me
In the hot land's drowsy breath:
But a dreadful voice pursues me
Saying ‘Death, Death,’
In the hot land's drowsy breath:
But a dreadful voice pursues me
Saying ‘Death, Death,’
“Through the wide and wintry heaven,
To the aching vales of frost,
Where the wind shall wail at even,
Crying ‘Lost, Lost.’”
To the aching vales of frost,
Where the wind shall wail at even,
Crying ‘Lost, Lost.’”
24
“THE EARTH HATH DRUNK DEEP”
The earth hath drunk deep
Of the rains of God:
When men were asleep.
On the thirsty sod,
On the dusty town,
Most silent and steep
Did the rain leap down.
Of the rains of God:
When men were asleep.
On the thirsty sod,
On the dusty town,
Most silent and steep
Did the rain leap down.
And the delicate stems
Of the grass are clean,
And the elders are green,
And the rose is brimmed with gems.
Of the grass are clean,
And the elders are green,
And the rose is brimmed with gems.
25
My heart hath drunk deep
Of the wine of God:
When men were asleep
Were the dark grapes trode,
And the acrid must—
Oh! the draught was deep—
To my lips was thrust:—
Of the wine of God:
When men were asleep
Were the dark grapes trode,
And the acrid must—
Oh! the draught was deep—
To my lips was thrust:—
Shadows and fears
Were the bitter part
Of the craven heart,
And the cup was brimmed with tears.
Were the bitter part
Of the craven heart,
And the cup was brimmed with tears.
31
MY OLD FRIEND
It seems the world was always bright
With some divine unclouded weather,
When we, with hearts and footsteps light,
By lawn and river walked together:
With some divine unclouded weather,
When we, with hearts and footsteps light,
By lawn and river walked together:
There was no talk of me and you,
Of theories with facts to bound them,
We were content to be and do,
And take our fortunes as we found them.
Of theories with facts to bound them,
We were content to be and do,
And take our fortunes as we found them.
We spoke no wistful words of love,
No hint of sympathy and dearness,
Only around, beneath, above,
There ran a swift and subtle nearness.
No hint of sympathy and dearness,
Only around, beneath, above,
There ran a swift and subtle nearness.
32
Each inmost thought was known to each
By some impetuous divination:
We found no need of flattering speech,
Content with silent admiration.
By some impetuous divination:
We found no need of flattering speech,
Content with silent admiration.
I think I never touched your hand,
I took no heed of face or feature,
Only, I thought, on sea or land
Was never such a gracious creature.
I took no heed of face or feature,
Only, I thought, on sea or land
Was never such a gracious creature.
It seems I was not hard to please,
Where'er you led I needs must follow;
For strength you were my Hercules,
For wit and lustre my Apollo.
Where'er you led I needs must follow;
For strength you were my Hercules,
For wit and lustre my Apollo.
The years flew onward: stroke by stroke
They clashed from the impartial steeple,
And we appear to other folk
A pair of ordinary people.
They clashed from the impartial steeple,
And we appear to other folk
A pair of ordinary people.
33
One word, old friend: though fortune flies,
If hope should fail—till death shall sever—
In one dim pair of faithful eyes
You seem as bright, as brave as ever.
If hope should fail—till death shall sever—
In one dim pair of faithful eyes
You seem as bright, as brave as ever.
64
THE LONG SLEEP
As one that wakes and from his pillow leaps,
With some fierce dream, some visionary shock,
Or gusty chiding of the turret-clock,
And deems it time for labour, till he creeps
With some fierce dream, some visionary shock,
Or gusty chiding of the turret-clock,
And deems it time for labour, till he creeps
Dumb and bewildered, to the window-bars,
And sees the pale lamp on the roadway shed
Strange wafts of shifting shade, and overhead
Troop through the black night the slow-marching stars:
And sees the pale lamp on the roadway shed
Strange wafts of shifting shade, and overhead
Troop through the black night the slow-marching stars:
Then is he glad at heart, and knows the day
Is yet far off, and trims the smouldering fire,
And with delicious tremors, doth allay
His languorous head, and dives to slumber deep;—
Even with such eager longing, I desire
Death, and the dumb interminable sleep.
Is yet far off, and trims the smouldering fire,
And with delicious tremors, doth allay
His languorous head, and dives to slumber deep;—
Even with such eager longing, I desire
Death, and the dumb interminable sleep.
65
THE MESSAGE
Stretched in the grass, what was it that I dreamed?
There, where the mossy rock its streamlet spilled,
While the sad curlew in the rushes trilled,
And flying sails by distant headlands gleamed;
There, where the mossy rock its streamlet spilled,
While the sad curlew in the rushes trilled,
And flying sails by distant headlands gleamed;
Hot o'er the heather waved the quivering air,
Sweep after sweep the billowy moorland rolled,
As tho' some stiff green coverlet did enfold
Huge sleeping giants, sprawling prostrate there.
Sweep after sweep the billowy moorland rolled,
As tho' some stiff green coverlet did enfold
Huge sleeping giants, sprawling prostrate there.
What was it that I dreamed? the soaring bird
Swept wold and waste, yet saw not what I saw:
Not love, not honour, not the perfect mind!
But how to tell the secret that I heard
Sung by the stream, and whispered in the wind,
Of faith and patience, and divinest awe?
Swept wold and waste, yet saw not what I saw:
Not love, not honour, not the perfect mind!
But how to tell the secret that I heard
Sung by the stream, and whispered in the wind,
Of faith and patience, and divinest awe?
66
REST
To-day I'll give to peace; I will not look
Behind, before me; I will simply be;
Hopes and regrets shall claim no share in me;
Here I will lie beside the limpid brook,
And turn the pages of some aimless book,
Sunk and submerged in vague felicity;
Live, mute and still, in what I feel and see,
The dreaming guardian of the upland nook.
Behind, before me; I will simply be;
Hopes and regrets shall claim no share in me;
Here I will lie beside the limpid brook,
And turn the pages of some aimless book,
Sunk and submerged in vague felicity;
Live, mute and still, in what I feel and see,
The dreaming guardian of the upland nook.
Well! here's my world to-day! cicalas spare
Sawing harsh music; beetles big, that grope
Among the grass-stems; merry flies astir;
And goats with impudent face and silken hair,
That poise and tinkle on the Western slope,
Breast-deep in Alpen-rose and juniper.
Sawing harsh music; beetles big, that grope
Among the grass-stems; merry flies astir;
And goats with impudent face and silken hair,
That poise and tinkle on the Western slope,
Breast-deep in Alpen-rose and juniper.
69
INDOLENCE
What, hath the dark surprised me as I dreamed?
The hours were mine: I neither swooned nor slept,
Only the slow shade o'er the dial crept,
And peace was thrice as peaceful as it seemed.
The hours were mine: I neither swooned nor slept,
Only the slow shade o'er the dial crept,
And peace was thrice as peaceful as it seemed.
Ah me! I have not earned the right to sleep,
Nor strung my thews for battle: I have spent
The hoarded coin that was for increase lent,
Dreamed of the harvest that I may not reap.
Nor strung my thews for battle: I have spent
The hoarded coin that was for increase lent,
Dreamed of the harvest that I may not reap.
Waste, trivial waste! fickle and fruitless moods,
Dear to the mind of God! Shall nature then
Bewail the helpless debt she cannot pay?
Petals that bloom, and fall, unseen of men:
Slow springs that drip in mountain solitudes,
Rocks that the sad sea sprinkles twice a day.
Dear to the mind of God! Shall nature then
Bewail the helpless debt she cannot pay?
Petals that bloom, and fall, unseen of men:
Slow springs that drip in mountain solitudes,
Rocks that the sad sea sprinkles twice a day.
| Lord Vyet and Other Poems | |