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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/10133-0.txt b/10133-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0682b4c --- /dev/null +++ b/10133-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2691 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10133 *** + +THE VIGIL OF VENUS + +AND OTHER POEMS BY + +"Q" + + +1912 + + + +TO MAURICE HEWLETT + + + + HEWLETT! as ship to ship + Let us the ensign dip. + There may be who despise + For dross our merchandise, + Our balladries, our bales + Of woven tales; + Yet, Hewlett, the glad gales + Favonian! And what spray + Our dolphins toss'd in play, +Full in old Triton's beard, on Iris' shimmering veils! + + Scant tho' the freight of gold + Commercial in our hold, + Pæstum, Eridanus + Perchance have barter'd us + 'Bove chrematistic care + + + + +CONTENTS + +THE VIGIL OF VENUS +PERVIGILIUM VENERIS +THE REGENT--A DRAMA IN ONE ACT +POEMS + EXMOOR VERSES + VASHTI'S SONG + SATURN + DERELICTION + TWO FOLK SONGS + THE SOLDIER + THE MARINE + MARY LESLIE + JENIFER'S LOVE + TWO DUETS + THE STATUES AND THE TEAR + NUPTIAL NIGHT + HESPERUS + CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE + ENVOY + CORONATION HYMN + THREE MEN OF TRURO + ALMA MATER + CHRISTMAS EVE + THE ROOT + TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME A BOX OF VIOLETS + OF THREE CHILDREN CHOOSING A CHAPLET OF VERSE +EPILOGUE: TO A MOTHER, ON SEEING HER SMILE REPEATED +IN HER DAUGHTER'S EYES + + + + +THE VIGIL OF VENUS + + +The _Pervigilium Veneris_--of unknown authorship, but clearly belonging +to the late literature of the Roman Empire--has survived in two MSS., +both preserved at Paris in the _Bibliothèque Nationale_. + +Of these two MSS. the better written may be assigned (at earliest) to +the close of the seventh century; the other (again at earliest) to the +close of the ninth. Both are corrupt; the work of two illiterate +copyists who--strange to say--were both smatterers enough to betray +their little knowledge by converting _Pervigilium_ into _Per Virgilium_ +(_scilicet_, "by Virgil"): thus helping us to follow the process of +thought by which the Middle Ages turned Virgil into a wizard. Here and +there the texts become quite silly, separately or in consent; and just +where they agree in the most surprising way--_i.e._ in the arrangement +of the lines--the conjectural emendator is invited to do his worst by a +note at the head of the older Codex, "Sunt vero versus xxii"--"There are +rightly twenty-two lines." + +This has started much ingenious guess-work. But no really convincing +rearrangement has been achieved as yet; and I have been content to take +the text pretty well as it stands, with a few corrections upon which +most scholars agree. With a poem of "paratactic structure" the best of +us may easily go astray by transposing lines, or blocks of lines, to +correspond with _our_ sequence of thought; and I shall be content if, +following the only texts to which appeal can be made,[1] my translation +be generally intelligible. + +It runs pretty closely, line for line, with the original; because one +may love and emulate classical terseness even while despairing to rival +it. But it does not attempt to be literal; for even were it worth doing, +I doubt if it be possible for anyone in our day to hit precisely the +note intended by an author or heard by a reader in the eighth century. +Men change subtly as nations succeed to nations, religions to religions, +philosophies to philosophies; and it is a property of immortal poetry to +shift its appeal. It does not live by continuing to mean the some thing. +It grows as we grow. We smile, for instance, when some interlocutor in a +dialogue of Plato takes a line from the _Iliad_ and applies it seriously +_au pied de la lettre_. We can hardly conceive what the great line +conveyed to him; but it may mean something equally serious to us, though +in a different way. + +[1] Facsimiles of the two Codices can be studied in a careful edition of +the _Pervigilum_ by Mr Cecil Clementi, published by Mr B.H. Blackwell of +Oxford, 1911. + + + + +PERVIGILIUM VENERIS + +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_. +Ver novum, ver jam canorurn, vere natus orbis est; +Vere concordant amores, vere nubunt alites, +Et nemus comam resolvit de maritis imbribus. +Cras amorum copulatrix inter umbras arborum 5 +Inplicat casas virentes de flagello myrteo: +Cras Dione jura dicit fulta sublimi throno. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_. + +_To-morrow--What news of to-morrow? +Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew_! +It is Spring, it is chorussing Spring; 'tis the birthday of Earth, and + for you! +It is Spring; and the Loves and the birds wing together and woo to accord +Where the bough to the rain has unbraided her locks as a bride to + her lord. +For she walks--she our Lady, our Mistress of Wedlock--the woodlands + atween, 5 +And the bride-bed she weaves them, with myrtle enlacing, with curtains + of green. +Look aloft! list the law of Dione, sublime and enthroned in the blue: +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew_! + +Tunc liquore de superno spumeo et ponti globo, +Cærulas inter catervas, inter et bipedes equos, 10 +Fecit undantem Dionen de maritis imbribus. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quiqiie amavit cras amet_. + +Ipsa gemmis purpurantem pingit annum floribus, +Ipsa surgentes papillas de Favoni spiritu +Urget in toros tepentes; ipsa roris lucidi 15 +Noctis aura quem relinquit, spargit umentes aquas. +Et micant lacrimæ trementes de caduco pondere: + +Time was that a rain-cloud begat her, impregning the heave of the deep, +'Twixt hooves of sea-horses a-scatter, stampeding the dolphins as + sheep. 10 +Lo! arose of that bridal Dione, rainbow'd and besprent of its dew! +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew_! + +She, she, with her gem-dripping finger enamels the wreath of the year; +She, she, when the maid-bud is nubile and swelling winds--whispers anear, +Disguising her voice in the Zephyr's--"So secret the bed! And thou + shy?" 15 +She, she, thro' the hush'd humid Midsummer night draws the dew from on + high; +Dew bright with the tears of its origin, dew with its weight on the bough, + +Gutta præceps orbe parvo sustinet casus suos. +En, pudorem florulentæ prodiderunt purpuræ: +Umor ille quern serenis astra rorant noctibus 20 +Mane virgineas papillas solvit umenti peplo. +Ipsa jussit mane ut udas virgines nubant rosæ; +Fusa Paphies de cruore deque Amoris osculis +Deque gemmis deque flammis deque solis purpuris, +Cras ruborem qui latebat veste tectus ignea 25 +Unico marita nodo non pudebit solvere. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_. + +Misdoubting and clinging and trembling--"Now, now must I fall? Is it now?" +Star-fleck'd on the stem of the brier as it gathers and falters and flows, +Lo! its trail runs a ripple of fire on the nipple it bids be a + rose, 20 +Yet englobes it diaphanous, veil upon veil in a tiffany drawn +To bedrape the small virginal breasts yet unripe for the spousal of dawn; +Till the vein'd very vermeil of Venus, till Cupid's incarnadine kiss, +Till the ray of the ruby, the sunrise, ensanguine the bath of her bliss; +Till the wimple her bosom uncover, a tissue of fire to the view, 25 +And the zone o'er the wrists of the lover slip down as they reach to undo. +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew_! + +Ipsa nymphas diva luco jussit ire myrteo: +It puer comes puellis. Nee tamen credi potest +Esse Amorem feriatum, si sagittas vexerit. 30 +Ite, nymphæ, posuit arma, feriatus est Amor; +Jussus est inermis ire, nudus ire jussus est, +Neu quid arcu, neu sagitta, neu quid igne Iæderet; +Sed tamen nymphse cavete, quod Cupido pulcher est; +Est in armis totus idem quando nudus est Amor! 35 + +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit eras amet_. + +Conpari Venus pudore mittit ad te virgines: + +"Go, maidens," Our Lady commands, "while the myrtle is green in the + groves, +Take the Boy to your escort." "But ah!" cry the maidens, "what trust + is in Love's +Keeping holiday too, while he weareth his archery, tools of his + trade?" 30 +"Go! he lays them aside, an apprentice released; ye may wend unafraid. +See, I bid him disarm, he disarms; mother-naked I bid him to go, +And he goes mother-naked. What flame can he shoot without arrow or bow?" +Yet beware ye of Cupid, ye maidens! Beware most of all when he charms +As a child: for the more he runs naked, the more he's a strong + man-at-arms. 35 + +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew! +"Lady Dian"--Behold how demurely the damsels approach her and sue-- + +Una res est quam rogamus: cede, virgo Delia, +Ut nemus sit incruentum de ferinis stragibus. +Ipsa vellet ut venires, si deceret virginem: 40 +Jam tribus choros videres feriatos noctibus +Congreges inter catervas ire per saltus tuos, +Floreas inter coronas, myrteas inter casas: +Nee Ceres nee Bacchus absunt, nee poetarum Deus; +De tenente tota nox est pervigilia canticis: 45 +Regnet in silvis Dione; tu recede, Delia. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_. + +Hear Venus her only petition! Dear maiden of + Delos, depart! +Let the forest be bloodless to-day, unmolested the + roe and the hart! +Holy huntress, thyself she would bid be her guest, 40 + could thy chastity stoop +To approve of our revels, our dances--three + nights that we weave in a troop +Arm-in-arm thro' thy sanctu'ries whirling, till faint + and dispersed in the grove +We lie with thy lilies for chaplets, thy myrtles for + arbours of love: +And Apollo, with Ceres and Bacchus to chorus-- + song, harvest, and wine-- +Hymns thee dispossess'd, "'Tis Dione who reigns! 45 + Let Diana resign!" +O, the wonderful nights of Dione! dark bough, + with her star shining thro'! +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have + loved, love anew!_ + +Jussit Hyblæis tribunal stare diva floribus; +Præses ipsa jura dicit, adsederunt Gratiæ. +Hybla, totos funde floras quidquid annus adtulit; 50 +Hybla, florum rumpe vestem quantus Ætnæ campus est. + +Ruris hic erunt puellæ, vel puellæ montium, +Quæque silvas, quæque lucos, quæque fontes incolunt: + +Jussit omnes adsidere mater alitis dei, +Jussit et nudo puellas nil Amori credere. 55 + +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet._ +She has set up her court, has Our Lady, in Hybla, + and deckt it with blooms:-- +With the Graces at hand for assessors Dione dispenses + her dooms. +Now burgeon, O Hybla! put forth and abound, till 50 + Proserpina's field, +To the foison thy lap overflowing its laurel of Sicily + yield. +Call, assemble the nymphs--hamadryad and dryad-- + the echoes who court +From the rock, who the rushes inhabit, in ripples + who swim and disport. +"I admonish you maids--I, his mother, who suckled + the scamp ere he flew-- +An ye trust to the Boy flying naked, some pestilent 55 + prank ye shall rue." +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have + loved, love anew!_ + +Et rigentibus virentes ducit umbras floribus: +Cras erit quum primus Æther copulavit nuptias, +Et pater totum creavit vernis annum nubibus, +In sinum maritus imber fluxit almæ conjugis, 60 +Unde fetus mixtus omnes aleret magno corpore. +Ipsa venas atque mentem permeanti spiritu +Intus occultis gubernat procreatrix viribus, +Perque coelum, perque terras, perque pontum + subditum +Pervium sui tenorem seminali tramite 65 + +She has coax'd her the shade of the hazel to cover + the wind-flower's birth. +Since the day the Great Father begat it, descending + in streams upon Earth; +When the Seasons were hid in his loins, and the + Earth lay recumbent, a wife, +To receive in the searching and genital shower the 60 + soft secret of life. +As the terrible thighs drew it down, and conceived, + as the embryo ran +Thoro' blood, thoro' brain, and the Mother gave all + to the making of man, +She, she, our Dione, directed the seminal current to + creep, +Penetrating, possessing, by devious paths all the + height, all the deep. +She, of all procreation procuress, the share to the 65 + furrow laid true; + +Inbuit, jussitque mundum nosse nascendi vias. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit +cras amet._ + +Ipsa Trojanos nepotes in Latinos transtulit, +Ipsa Laurentem puellam conjugem nato dedit; +Moxque Marti de sacello dat pudicam virginem; 70 +Romuleas ipsa fecit cum Sabinis nuptias, +Unde Ramnes et Quirites proque prole posterum +Romuli matrem crearet et nepotem Cæsarem. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras + amet._ + +She, she, to the womb drave the knowledge, and open'd the ecstasy through. +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew!_ + +Her favour it was fill'd the sail of the Trojan for Latium bound; +Her favour that won her Aeneas a bride on Laurentian ground, +And anon from the cloister inveigled the Virgin, the Vestal, + to Mars; 70 +As her wit by the wild Sabine rape recreated her Rome for its wars, +With the Ramnes, Quirites, together ancestrally proud as they drew +From Romulus down to our Caesar--last, best of that bone, of that thew. +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew!_ + +Rura fecundat voluptas: rura Venerem sentiunt: 75 +Ipse Amor puer Dionse rure natus dicitur. +Hunc ager, cum parturiret ipsa, suscepit sinu: +Ipsa florum delicatis educavit osculis. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras, +amet_. + +Ecce jam super genestas explicant tauri latus, 80 +Quisque tutus quo tenetur conjugali foedere: +Subter umbras cum maritis ecce balantum greges; +Et canoras non tacere diva jussit alites. + +Pleasure planteth a field; it conceives to the passion, 75 + the pang, of his joy. +In a field was Dione in labour delivered of Cupid the + Boy; +And the field in its fostering lap from her travail + received him: he drew +Mother's milk from the delicate kisses of flowers; + and he prosper'd and grew-- +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have + loved, love anew!_ + +Lo! behold ye the bulls, with how lordly a flank 80 + they besprawl on the broom!-- +Yet obey the uxorious yoke, and are tamed to + Dione her doom. +Or behear ye the sheep, to the husbanding rams + how they bleat to the shade! +Or behear ye the birds, at the Goddess' command + how they sing unafraid! + +Jam loquaces ore rauco stagna cycni perstrepunt; +Adsonat Terei puella subter umbram populi, 85 +Ut putes motus amoris ore dici musico, +Et neges queri sororem de marito barbaro. +Ilia cantat, nos tacemus. Quando ver venit meum? +Quando fiam uti chelidon, ut tacere desinam? +Perdidi Musam tacendo, nec me Apollo respicit; 90 +Sic Amyclas, cum tacerent, perdidit silentium. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras +amet_. + +Be it harsh as the swannery's clamour that shatters the hush of the lake, +Be it dulcet as where Philomela holds darkling the poplar awake, 85 +So melting her soul into music, you'd vow 'twas her passion, her own, +She plaineth--her sister forgot, with the Daulian crime long-agone. +Hark! Hush! Draw around to the circle ... Ah, loitering Summer! Say when +For me shall be broken the charm, that I chirp with the swallow again? +I am old; I am dumb; I have waited to sing till Apollo withdrew-- 90 +So Amyclae a moment was mute, and for ever a wilderness grew. +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew,_ + _To-morrow!--to-morrow!_ + + + + +TO +CHARLES THURSBY + +THE "ONLIE BEGETTER" + + + + +THE REGENT + +A DRAMA IN ONE ACT + + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +CARL'ANTONIO, _Duke of Adria_ + +TONINO, _his young son_ + +LUCIO; _Count of Vallescura, brother to the Duchess_ + +CESARIO, _Captain of the Guard_ + +GAMBA, _a Fool_ + + +OTTILIA, _Duchess and Regent of Adria_ + +LUCETTA, _a Lady-in-Waiting_ + +FULVIA, _a Lady of the Court_ + + +_Courtiers, Priests, Choristers, Soldiers, Mariners, +Townsfolk, etc._ + +_The Scene is the Ducal Palace of Adria, in the N. Adriatic_ + +_The Date, 1571_ + + + + +THE REGENT + +SCENE.--_A terraced courtyard before the Ducal Palace. +Porch and entrance of Chapel, R. A semicircular +balcony, L., with balustrade and marble seats, and an +opening whence a flight of steps leads down to the +city. The city lies out of sight below the terrace; +from which, between its cypresses and statuary, is +seen a straight stretch of a canal; beyond the canal are +sand-hills and the line of the open sea. Mountains, +L., dip down to the sea and form a curve of the +coast._ + +_As the curtain rises, a crowd of town and country +folk is being herded to the back of the terrace by the +Ducal Guard, under Cesario. Within the Chapel, to_ +_the sound of an organ, boys' voices are chanting the +service of the Mass._ + +_Cesario, Gamba the Fool, Guards, Populace._ + + +_Cesario._ Way there! Give room! The Regent comes from Mass. +Guards, butt them on the toes--way there! give room! +Prick me that laggard's leg-importunate fools! + +_Guards._ Room for the Regent! Room! + +[_The sacring bell rings within the Chapel._ + +_Cesario._ Hark there, the bell! + +[_A pause. Men of the crowd take off their caps._ + +Could ye not leave, this day of all the year, +Your silly suits, petitions, quarrels, pleas? +Could ye not leave, this once in seven years, +Our Lady to come holy-quiet from Mass. +Lean on the wall, and loose her cage-bird heart, +To lift and breast and dance upon the breeze. +Draws home her lord the Duke? + +_Crowd._ Long live the Duke! + +_Cesario._ The devil, then! Why darken his approach? + + +_Gamba (from the bench where he has been mending his +viol)._ Because, Captain, 'tis a property knaves +and fools have in common--to stand in their own +light, as 'tis of soldiers to talk bad logic. That +knave, now--he with the red nose and the black +eye--the Duke's colours, loyal man!--you clap +an iron on his leg, and ask him why he is not +down in the city, hanging them out of window! +Go to: you are a soldier! + +_Cesario._ And you a Fool, and on your own showing +stand in your own light. + +_Gamba._ Nay, neither in my own light, nor as a +Fool. So should myself stand between the sun +and my shadow; whereas I am not myself--these +seven years have I been but the shadow of a +Fool. Yet one must tune up for the Duke. + +_(Strikes his viol and sings.)_ + +"Bird of the South, my Rondinello----" + +Flat-Flat! + + +_Cesario (calling up to watchman on the Chapel roof)._ Ho there! What news? + +_A Voice._ Captain, no sail! + +_Cesario._ Where sits +The wind? + +_Voice._ Nor' west, and north a point! + +_Cesario._ Perchance +They have down'd sail and creep around the flats. + +_Gamba (tuning his viol)._ Flats, flats! the straight horizon, and the life +These seven years laid by rule! The curst canal +Drawn level through the drawn-out level sand +And thistle-tufts that stink as soon as pluck'd! +Give me the hot crag and the dancing heat, +Give me the Abruzzi, and the cushioned thyme-- +Brooks at my feet, high glittering snows above. +What were thy music, viol, without a ridge? + + +[_Noise of commotion in the city below._ + + +_Cesario_. Watchman, what news? + +_A Voice_. Sir, on the sea no sail! + +_One of the Crowd_. But through the town below a horseman spurs-- +I think, Count Lucio! Yes--Count Lucio! +He nears, draws rein, dismounts! + +_Cesario_. Sure, he brings news. + + +_Gamba_. I think he brings word the Duke is sick; +his loyal folk have drunk so much of his +health. + +[_A murmur has been growing in the town below. It +breaks into cheers as Count Lucio comes springing +up to the terrace._ + +_Enter Lucio._ + + +_Lucio._ News! Where's the Regent? Eh? is Mass not said? +Cesario, news! I rode across the dunes; +A pilot--Nestore--you know the man-- +Came panting. Sixteen sail beyond the point! +That's not a galley lost! + +_Crowd._ Long live the Duke! + +_Lucio._ Hark to the tocsin! I have carried fire-- +Wildfire! Why, where's my sister? I've a mind-- + + +[_He strides towards the door of the Chapel; but +pauses at the sound of chanting within, and +comes back to Cesario._ + + +Man, are you mute? I say the town's aflame +Below! But here, up here, you stand and stare +Like prisoners loosed to daylight. Rub your eyes, +Believe! + +_Cesario (musing)._ It has been long. + +_Lucio._ As tapestry +Pricked out by women's needles; point-device +As saints in fitted haloes. Yet they stab, +Those needles. Oh, the devil take their tongues! + +_Cesario._ Why, what's the matter? + +_Lucio._ P'st! another lie +Against the Countess Fulvia; and the train +Laid to my sister's ear. Cesario, +My sister is a saint--and yet she married: +Therefore should understand ... Would saints, like cobblers, +Stick but to business in this naughty world! +Ah, well! the Duke comes home. + +_Cesario._ And what of that? + +_Lucio._ Release! + +_Cesario._ Release? + +_Lucio (mocking a chant within the Chapel)._ From priests and petticoats +Deliver us, Good Lord! + +_Gamba (strikes a chord on viol). AMEN!_ + +_Cesario._ Count Lucio, +These seven years agone, when the Duke sailed, +You were a child--a pretty, forward boy; +And I a young lieutenant of the Guard, +Burning to serve abroad. But that day, rather, +I clenched my nails over an inward wound: +For that a something manlier than my years-- +Look, bearing, what-not--by the Duke not miss'd, +Condemned me to promotion: I must bide +At home, command the Guard! 'Tis an old hurt, +But scalded on my memory.... Well, they sailed! +And from the terrace here, sick with self-pity, +Wrapped in my wrong, forgetful of devoir, +I watch'd them through a mist--turned with a sob-- +Uptore my rooted sight-- + There, there she stood; +Her hand press'd to her girdle, where the babe +Stirred in her body while she gazed--she gazed-- +But slowly back controlled her eyes, met mine; +So--with how wan, how small, how brave a smile!-- +Reached me her hands to kiss ... + O royal hands! +What burdens since they have borne let Adria tell. +But hear me swear by them, Count Lucio-- +Who slights our Regent throws his glove to me. + +_Lucio._ Why, soothly, she's my sister! + +_Cesario._ 'But the court +Is dull? No masques, few banquetings--and prayers +Be long, and youth for pastime leaps the gate?' +Yet if the money husbanded on feasts +Have fed our soldiery against the Turk, +Year after year, and still the State not starved; +Was't not well done? And if, responsible +To God, and lonely, she has leaned on God +Too heavily for our patience, was't not wise?-- +And well, though weary? + +_Lucio._ I tell you, she's my sister! + +_Cesario._ Well, an you will, bridle on that. Lord Lucio, +You named the Countess Fulvia. To my sorrow, +Two hours ago I called on her and laid her +Under arrest. + +_Lucio._ The devil! For what? + +_Cesario._ For that +A lady, whose lord keeps summer in the hills +To nurse a gouty foot, should penalize +His dutiful return by shutting doors +And hanging out a ladder made of rope, +Or prove its safety by rehearsing it +Upon a heavier man. + +_Lucio._ I'll go to her. +Oh, this is infamous! + +_Cesario._ Nay, be advised: +No hardship irks the lady, save to sit +At home and feed her sparrows; nor no worse +Annoy than from her balcony to spy +(Should the eye rove) a Switzer of the Guard +At post between her raspberry-canes, to watch +And fright the thrushes from forbidden fruit. + +_Lucio._ Infamous! infamous! + +_Cesario._ Enough, my lord: +The Regent! + + +[_Doors of the Chapel open. The organ sounds, +with voices of choir chanting the recessional. +The Court enters from Mass, attending the +Regent Ottilia and her son Tonino. She wears +a crown and heavy dalmatic. Her brother +Lucio, controlling himself with an effort, kisses +her hand and conducts her to the marble bench, +which serves for her Chair of State. She bows, +receiving the homage of the crowd; but, after +seating herself, appears for a few moments unconscious +of her surroundings. Then, as her +rosary slips from her fingers and falls heavily +at her feet, she speaks._ + +_Regent._ So slips the chain linking this world with Heaven, +And drops me back to earth: so slips the chain +That hangs my spirit to the Redeemer's cross +Above pollution in the pure swept air +Whereunder frets this hive: so slips the chain-- +_(She starts up)_--God! the dear sound! Was that his anchor dropped? +Speak to the watchman, one! Call to the watch! +What news? + +_Cesario._ Aloft! What news? + +_Voice above._ No sail as yet! + +_Regent._ Ah, pardon, sirs! My ears are strung to-day, +And play false airs invented by the wind. +Methought a hawse-pipe rattled ... + +_Gamba (chants to his viol). Shepherds, see-- +Lo! What a mariner love hath made me!_ + +_Regent._ What chants the Fool? + +_Gamba._ Madonna, 'tis a trifle +Made by a silly poet on wives that stand +All night at windows listening the surf-- +_Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no!_ + +_Lucio._ Peace, lively! Madam, there is news--brave news! +I'm from the watch-house. There the pilots tell +Of sixteen sail to the southward! Sixteen sail, +And nearing fast! + +_Regent._ Praise God! dear Lucio! + + +[_She has seated herself again. She takes Lucio's +hand and speaks, petting it._ + + +What? Glowing with my happiness? That's like you. +But for yourself the hour, too, holds release. + +_Lucio (between sullenness and shame, with a glance at +Cesario)._ "Release?" + +_Regent._ You will forgive? I have great need +To be forgiven: sadly I have been slack +In guardianship, and by so much betrayed +My promise to our mother's passing soul. +Myself in cares immersed, I left the child +Among his toys--and turn to find him man-- +But yet so much a boy that boyhood can +_(Wistfully)_ Laugh in his honest eyes? Forgive me, Lucio! +Tell me, whate'er have slackened, there has slipped +No knot of love. To-morrow we'll make sport, +Be playmates and invent new games, and old-- +Wreath flowers for crowns-- + + +[_He drags his hand away. She gazes at him +wistfully, and turns to the Captain of the +Guard._ + + + Cesario, +What are the suits? + +_Cesario._ They are but three to-day, +Madonna. First, a scoundrel here in irons +For having struck the Guard. + +_Regent (eying the culprit)._ His name, I think, +Is Donatello Crocco. Hey? You improve, +Good man. The last time 'twas your wife you basted. +At this rate, in another year or two +You'll bang the Turk. Do you confess the assault? + +_Prisoner._ I do. + +_Regent._ Upon a promise we dismiss you. +Your tavern, as it comes into our mind, +Is the 'Three Cups.' So many, and no more, +You'll drink to-day--have we your word? Three cups, +And each a _Viva_ for the Duke's return. + +_Prisoner._ Your Highness, I'll not take it at the price +Of my good manners. I'm a gallant man: +And who in Adria calls. 'Three cheers for the Duke!' +But adds a fourth for the Duchess? Lady, nay; +Grant me that fourth, or back I go to the cells! + + +[_The Regent laughs and nods to the Guard to release +him._ + + +_Regent._ What next? + +_An Old Woman (very rapidly)._ Your Highness will not know me--Zia +Agnese, Giovannucci's wife that was; +And feed a two-three cows, as a widow may, +On the marshes where the grass is salt and sweet +As your Highness knows--and always true to pail +Until this Nicolo-- + +_Nicolo._ Lies! lies, your Highness! + +_Old Woman._ Having a quarrel, puts the evil eye +On Serafina. She's my best of cows, +In stall with calf but ten days weaned. + +_Nicolo._ Lies! lies! + +_Old Woman._ I would your Highness saw her! When that thief +Hangs upon Lazarus' bosom, he'll be bidding +A ducat for each drop of milk he's cost me, +To cool his tongue. + +_Regent._ Ay--ay, the cow is sick, +I think; and mind me, being country-bred, +Of a cure for such: which is, to buy a comb +And comb the sufferer's tail at feeding-time. +If Zia Agnese do but this, she'll counter +The Evil Eye, and maybe with her own +Detect who thieves her Serafina's hay. + +_Old Woman._ God bless your Highness! + +_Nicolo._ God bless your Highness! + +_Regent (taking up a fresh suit)._Why, what's here? "_Costanza, +Wife of Giuseppe Boni, citeth him +And sueth to live separate, for neglect +And divers beatings, as to wit----_" H'm, h'm-- +_Likewise to keep the child Geronimo, +Begotten of his body._ You defend +The suit, Giuseppe? + +_A Young Peasant (shrugs his shoulders)._ As the woman will! +I'll not deny I beat her. + +_Regent._ But neglect! +How came you to neglect her? Look on her-- +The handsome, frowsy slut, that, by appearance, +Hath never washed her body since she wed. +A beating we might pass. But how neglect +To take her by the neck unto the pump +And hold her till her wet and furious face +Were once again worth kissing? Well--well--well! +Neglect is proven. She shall have deserts: +_(To a Clerk)_ But--write, "Defendant keeps his lawful child." + +_Young Peasant._ My lady-- + +_Wife._ Nay, my lady-- + +_Regent._ Eh? What's this? + +_Wife._ The poor _bambino_! Nay, 'twas not the suit! +How should Giuseppe, being a fool, a man-- + +_Young Peasant._ Aye, aye: that's sense. I love him: still, you see-- + +_Regent._ An if my judgment suit you not, go home, +The pair. _(As they are going she calls the woman back.)_ + Costanza! hath your husband erred +With other woman? + +_Young Peasant_. Never! + +_Wife_. I'll not charge him +With that. + +_Regent_. But, yes, you may. This man hath held +Another woman to his breast. + +_Wife_. Her name? +That I may tear her eyes! + +_Regent_. Her name's Costanza. +The same Costanza that, with body washed, +With ribbon in her hair, light in her eyes, +Arrayed a cottage to allure his heart. +Go home, poor fools, and find her!... + Heigh! No others? [_Heaves a sigh._ +Captain, dismiss the Guard. The watch, aloft-- +Set him elsewhere. We would not be o'erlooked. +You only, Lucio--you, Lucetta--stay; +You for a while, Cesario. + + [_Exeunt Courtiers, Guard, Crowd, etc._ + +Heigh! that's over-- +The last Court of the Regent; and the books +Accounts of stewardship, my seven years all, +Closed here for audit. + Nay, there's one thing more-- +Brother, erewhile I spoke you sisterly, +You turned away, and still you bite your lip: +Signs that may short my preface. It concerns +The Countess Fulvia. + +_Lucio_. Ha! + +_Regent_. Go, bring her, Captain. + + [_Exit Cesario_. + +List to me, Lucio: listen, brother dear, +First playmate-child, tending whose innocence +Myself learned motherhood. Shall I deny +Youth to be loved and follow after love? +There is a love breaks like a morning beam +On the husht novice kneeling by his arms; +And worse there is, whose kisses strangle love, +Whose feet take hold of hell. My Lucio, + Follow not that! + +_Lucio_. Why, who--who hath maligned + The Countess? + +_Regent_ Not maligned. Lucetta, here-- + +_Lucio_. Lucetta! Curse Lucetta and her tongue! + Am I a child, to be nagged by waiting-maids? + +_Regent_. No, but a man, and shall weigh evidence. + +_Lucio_. But I'll not hear it! If her viper tongue + Can kill, why kill it must. But send me a man, + And I will smite his mouth--ay, slit his tongue-- + That dares defame the Countess! + +_Regent_. Stay: she comes. + + [_Enter the Countess Fulvia, Cesario attending._ + + Madam, the reason wherefore you are summoned + No doubt you guess, from a rude earlier call + Our Captain paid you. Certain practices, + Which you may force me name, are charged upon + you +On testimony you may force me call + And may with freedom question. + +_Fulvia_. I'll not question: + No, nor I will not answer. + +_Lucio_. Then I'll answer!' + For me, for all, she is innocent! + +_Regent_. For you? + We'll hope it: but 'for all' 's more wide an oath + Than you can swear, sir. I'll not bandy you + Words nor debate. Myself the ladder saw; + Lucetta, here, the ladder and the man. + _What_ man she will not say. Cesario + Has tracked his footprint on her garden plots. + Must we say more? + +_Fulvia_. No need. Her fingering mind + Is a close cupboard turning all things rancid. + +_Lucio_. Yea, for such wry-necks all the world's a lawn + To peek and peer and pounce a sinful worm; + The fatter, the more luscious. + +_Regent. _ Lucio, + This woman nought gainsays. + +_Fulvia (fiercely)._ As why should I? + I'll question not, nor answer. 'Neath your brow + My sentence hunches, crawls, like cat to spring. + Pah! there's no prude will match your virtuous wife + You'd banish me? + +_Regent._ I do. Cesario, + See to it the City gate shuts not to-night. + And she this side. + +_Fulvia (laughs recklessly)._ To-night? To-night's your own. + Most modest woman! Duchess, there's a well + By the road, some seven miles beyond the town. + There, 'neath the stars, I'll dip a hand and drink + To the good Duke's disport. But have a care! + That cup's not yet to lip. + +_Regent. _ Captain, remove her. + Lucio, remain. + +_[Exeunt the Countess Fulvia, Cesario following]_ + +_Lucio._ I'll not remain--When ice + Sits judge of fire, what justice shall be done? + Sister, there be your books--peruse them. There + The sea-line--bide you so with back to it. + While the cold inward heat of cruelty + Warms what was once your heart, now crusted o'er + With duty and slimed with poisonous drip of tongues. + God help the Duke, if what he left he'd find! + + _[Exit Lucio]_ + +_Regent._ Is't so, I wonder? Go, Lucetta, fetch + My glass, if haply I may tell. + + _[Exit Lucetta.]_ + + Is't so? + And have these years enforced, encrusted me + To something monstrous, neither woman nor man? +My lord, my lord! too heavy was the load + You laid! Yet I'll not blame you: for myself + Ruled the straight path the long account correct + As in these books, my ledgers.... + + [_While she turns the pages, Gamba the Fool creeps + in and hoists himself on the balustrade. He + tries his viol, and sings_. + +SONG: _Gamba_. + + Bird of the South, my Rondinello-- + +_Regent_. Hey? That Song! + +_Gamba_. Hie to me, fly to me, steel-blue mate! + Under my breast-knot flutters thy fellow; + Here can I rest not, and thou so late. + Home, to me, home! + 'Love, love, I come!' + --Dear one, I wait! +_Quanno nacesti tu, nacqui pur io: +La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio_! +You know the song, madonna? + +_Regent_. Ay, fool. Sit + Here at my feet, sing on. + +_Gamba (sings)._ + + Bird of the South, my Rondinello + Under thy wing my heart hath lain + Till the rain falling on last leaves yellow + Drumm'd to thee, calling southward again. + Home, to me, home! + 'Love, love, I come!' + Ah, love, the pain! + _Addio, addio! ed un' altra volt' addio! + La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio! +(Pause)._ + A foolish rustic thing the shepherd wives + In our Abruzzi croon by winter fires, + Of their husbands in the plains. + +_Regent_. Gamba! + +_Gamba_. Madonna? + +_Regent_. I'd make thee my confessor. Mindest thou, + By Villalago, where from Sanno's lake + The stream, our Tasso, hurls it down the glen? + One noon, with Lucio--ever in those days + With Lucio--on a rock within the spray, + I wove a ferny garland, while the boy + Roamed, but returned in triumph, having trapped + A bee in a bell-flower--held it to my ear, + Laughing, dissembling that he feared to loose + The hairy thief. So laughed we--and were still, + As deep in Vallescura wound a horn, + And up the pathway 'neath the dappling bough + Came riding--flecked with sunshine, man and horse,-- + My lord, my lover; and that song, that song + Upon his lips.... + +_Voice of Watchman_. Sail ho! a sail! a sail! + + _[Murmur of populace below. It grows and swells to + a roar as enter hurriedly courtiers, guards, and + others: Cesario; Lucetta with mirror._] + +_Lucetta_. My lady! O my lady!-- + +_Cesario_. See, they near! + Galley on galley--look, there, by the point! + +_Regent_. O, could my heart keep tally with the surge + That here comes crowding! + +_Lucetta_. Joy, my lady! Joy! + +_All_. Joy! Joy, my lady! + + _[They press flowers on her. A pause, while they + watch. On the canal the galleys come into + sight. They near: and as the oars rise and + fall, the rowers' chorus is borne from the distance. + It is the Rondinello song_ + +_Chorus in Distance. La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio!_ + +_Regent_. Thanks, my good, good friends! + And deem it not discourteous if alone +I'd tune my heart to bliss. + My glass, Lucetta! + + _[Takes mirror.]_ + + Some thoughts there are--some thoughts---- + +_Courtiers_. God save you, madam! + + _[They go out, leaving the Regent alone._] + +_Regent (she loosens the clasp of her robe)._ Some thoughts +--some thoughts-- + Fall from me, envious robe! + Rest there, my crown--thou more than leaden ache! + Ah!-- + God! What a mountain drops! I float--I am lifted + Like thistledown on nothing. Back, my crown-- + Weight me to earth! Nay, nay, thy rim shall bite + No more upon this forehead ... Where's my glass? + O mirror, mirror, hath it bit so deep? + My love is coming, hark! O, say not grey, +Sweet mirror! Tell, what time to cure it now? + And he so near, so near! + How shall I meet him? + Why how but as the river leaps to sea, + Steel to its magnet, child to mother's arms? + + [_She catches up flowers from the baskets left by the + courtiers, and decks herself mildly._ + + Flowers for my hair, flowers at the breast! Sweet flowers, + He'll crush you 'gainst his corslet. He has arms + Like bands of iron for clasping, has my love. + He'll hurt, he'll hurt ... But oh, sweet flowers, to lie + And feel you helpless while he grips and bruises + Your weak protesting breasts! You'll die in bliss, + Panting your fragrance out.-- + Wh'st! Hush, poor fool! + I have unlearned love's very alphabet. + Men like us coy, demure ... Then I'll coquet +And play Madam Disdain--but not to-day. + To-morrow I'll be shrewish, shy, perverse, + Exacting, cold--all April in my moods: + We'll walk the forest, and I'll slip from him, + Hide me like Dryad 'mid the oaks, and mark + His hot dark face pursuing; or I'll couch + In covert green, and hold my breath to hear + His blundering foot go by; then up I'll leap, + And run--and he'll run after. O this lightness! + I'll draw him like a fairy, dance and double-- + Yet not so fast but he shall overtake + At length, and catch me panting. O, I charge you, + I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, + Wake not my love beneath the forest bough + Where we lie dreaming! + + _[Fanfare of trumpets in the distance.]_ + + Trumpets, hark! and drums! + They have landed! From the quay they march! + Flowers! flowers! +They are near ... I see him!... Carlo! lord and love! + He looks--waves--O 'tis he! O foolish heart!-- + I had feared he'd ta'en a wound. + What is't they shout? + Eh? 'Victory!'--yes, yes. He's browner, thinner; + And the dear eyes, how gaunt!... Yes + 'Victory!' + 'Victory!' ... lord, and love!,.. + +_[The shouts of acclamation are heard now close +under the terrace. Spears and banners are +seen trooping past. Beside herself, she throws +flowers to them, laughing, weeping the while. +Then, running to the Chapel door, she +prostrates herself before the image of the +Virgin that crowns its archway.]_ + + O Mary, Mother! + Thou, in whose breast all women's thoughts have moved, + All woman's passions heaved. Lo! I adore! + Sweet Mother, hold my hands, rejoice with me: + My bridegroom cometh! + +[_During this invocation the Countess Fulvia has +crept in, a stiletto in her hand. She leans +over the Regent and stabs her twice in the +breast.]_ + +_Fulvia._ Then with that!--and that! + Go meet him! + +_Regent_ (_turns, looks up, and falls on her face_). + Oh! I am slain! + +_Fulvia._ And I am worse! + But there's my flower, my red flower, on your breast.-- + Go, meet your lord and show it! + +[_She passes down the steps as Lucetta runs in.]_ + +_Lucetta._ Madam! Madam! + The Duke is at the gate--Madam!-- + Christ! she is murdered! Murder! Murder! + +_Regent._ Fie, +Lucetta! peace! What word to greet the Duke +For his home-coming! Lift me ... Quick, my robe-- +My Crown! Call no one. O, but hasten! + +_Lucetta_ (_helpless, wringing her hands_). Madam! + +_Regent._ I need your strength, and must I steady you? +Lucetta, years ago you disarrayed me +Upon my bridal night. I would you'd whisper +The rogueries your tongue invented then. +I have few moments, girl ... I'd have them wanton. +Make jest this mantle hides the maid I was. +I'll have no priest, no doctor--Fetch Tonino! +I must present his son-- +[_Lucetta runs out._ +All's acted quick: +Bride-bed, conception, birth--and death! But he +Shall sum it in one moment death not takes ... +What noise of trumpets!... Is the wound not covered? + +[_She wraps herself carefully in her mantle as the +courtiers pour in. The child Tonino runs to +her and stands by her side. Lucio, Cesario, +all the Court, group themselves round her as +the Duke enters. He rushes in eagerly; but +she sets her teeth on her anguish, and receives +him with a low reverence._ + +Welcome my lord! + +_Duke._ Ottilia! + +_Regent._ Good my lord, +Welcome! This day is bright restores you to +Your loyal Duchy. + +Duke (_impatient_). Wife! Ottilia! + +_Regent_ (_she lifts a hand to keep him at distance_). +There must be forms, my lord--some forms! Cesario, +Render the Duke his sceptre. As bar to socket, +When the gate closes on a town secure, +So locks this rod back to his manly clutch-- +Cry all, 'Long live the Duke!' + +_All._ Long live the Duke! + +_Duke._ Wife, make an end with forms! + +_Lucio_ (_to Cesario_). And so say I! +A man would think my sister had no blood +In her body. + +_Cesario_ (_watching the Regent_). Peace, man: something +there's amiss. + +_Regent._ Yet here is he that sceptre shall inherit. +Lucetta, lead his first-born to the Duke. +His first-born!--Nay but look on him how straight +Of limb, how set and shoulder-square, tho' slender! +He'll sit a horse, in time, and toss a lance +Even with his father. + +_Duke._ There's my blessing, boy! +But stand aside. Look in my face, Ottilia-- +Hearken me, all! One thing these seven years +My life hath lacked, which wanting, all your cannon, +Your banners, _vivas_, bells that rock the roofs, +Throng'd windows, craning faces--all--all--all +Were phantasms, were noise.-- + +_Lucio_ (_exclaims_). Why look, here's blood! +Here, on the boy's hand! + +_Regent._ Ay! a scratch, no worse, +Here, when I pinned my robe. + +_Duke_ (_continuing_). Nay, friends, this moment +My Duchy her dear hand restores to me +To me's a dream. More buoyant would I tread +Dumb street, deserted square, climb ruin'd wall, +Where in a heap beneath a broken flag +Lay Adria.-- +So that amid the ruins stood my love +And stretched her hands so faintly--stretched her hands +So faintly. See! She's mine! She lifts them-- + +_Regent_ (_totters and falls into his arms with a tired, happy +laugh, which ends in a cry as his arms enfold her_). Ah! + + [_She faints._ + +_Duke_. (_after a moment, releasing her a little_). What's +here? Ottilia! + +_Lucetta._ My mistress swoons! + +_A Courtier._ 'Tis happiness-- + +_Duke._ Fetch water! + +_Lucio._ Nay this blood-- + Came of no scratch! + +_Lucetta._ Loosen her bodice-- + +_Duke._ Blood? + Why blood? Where's blood? + +(_Stares as the mantle is imclasped and falls open_). + Ah, my God! + +_Lucetta._ Murder! murder! +The Countess Fulvia-- + +_Cesario._ Speak! + +_Lucetta._ There--while she knelt-- +Stabbed her, and fled. + +_Cesario._ Which way? + +[_Lucetta points to the stairs. He dashes off in +pursuit._ + +_Duke._ All-seeing God! +Where were thine eyes, or else thy justice? Dead? +O, never dead! + +_Lucio._ Ay, Duke, push God aside, +As I push thee. I have the better right: +I killed her--I. O never pass, sweet soul, +Till thou hast drunk a shudder of this wretch, +Thy brother, playmate, murderer! + +_Duke._ Wine! bring wine-- + +_Regent_ (_as the wine is brought and revives her_). +Flower, he will crush thee--but the bliss, the bliss! +I swim in bliss. What ... Lucio? Where's my lord? +Dear, bring him: he was here awhile and held me. +Say he must hold, or the light air will lift +And bear me quite away. + +[_Re-enter Cesario. In one hand he carries his +sword, in the other a dagger._ + +_Lucio._ Cesario! +What! Is that devil escaped? To think--to think +I drank her kisses!--What? Where is she? + +_Cesario._ Dead. +I raised the cry: the people pointed after; +Ran with me, ravening. Just this side the bridge +She heard our howl and turned--drew back the dagger +Red with our lady's blood, then drove it home +Clean to her own black heart. + +_Regent._ God pardon her! +I would what blood of mine clung to the blade +Might mix with hers and sweeten it for mercy. + +_Lucio._ Will you forgive her? Then forgive not me! + +_Regent._ Dear Lucio!--You'll not pluck away your hand +This time? Hush! Where's Cesario?... Friend, farewell. +Where lies the body? + +_Cesario._ Sooth, madonna, I flung it +To the river's will, to roll it down to sea +Or cast on muddy bar, for dogs to gnaw. + +_Regent._ The river? Ah! How strong the river rolls! +Hold me, my lord-- + +_Duke._ Love, love, I hold you + +_Regent._--Ay! +The child, too--You will hold the child?... + This roar +Deafens but will not drown us. + +[_Within the Chapel the choir is chanting a dirge. +Gamba goes and closes the door on the sound: +then creeps to the foot of the couch. The +dying woman gently motions aside the cross +a priest is holding to her, and looks up at her +husband._ + +[_Below the terrace a voice is heard singing the +Rondinello song._ + + Look! beyond +Be waters where no galley moves with oar, +So wide, so waveless,--and, between the woods, +Meadows--O land me there!... Hark, my lord's voice +Singing in Vallescura! Soft my, love, +I am so tired--so tired! Love, let me play! +[_Dies._ + +[_The Courtiers lift the body in silence and bear it +to the Chapel, the Duke and his train following. +The doors close on them. On the stage are +left only Cesario, standing by the balustrade; +and Gamba, who has seated himself with his +viol and touches it, as still the voice sings +below--_ + +Addio, Addio! ed un'altra volt'addio! +La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio! + +[_On the last note a string of the viol cracks, and with +a cry the Fool flings himself, heart-broken, on +the empty couch. Cesario steps forward and +stands over him, touching his shoulder gently._ + +CURTAIN. + + + + +POEMS + + + + +EXMOOR VERSES + +I. VASHTI'S SONG + + +Over the rim of the Moor, + And under the starry sky, +Two men came to my door + And rested them thereby. + +Beneath the bough and the star, + In a whispering foreign tongue, +They talked of a land afar + And the merry days so young! + +Beneath the dawn and the bough + I heard them arise and go: +And my heart it is aching now + For the more it will never know. + +Why did they two depart + Before I could understand? +Where lies that land, O my heart? + --O my heart, where lies that land? + + + +II. SATURN + + +From my farm, from hèr farm + Furtively we came. +In either home a hearth was warm: + We nursed a hungrier flame. + +Our feet were foul with mire, + Our faces blind with mist; +But all the night was naked fire + About us where we kiss'd. + +To her farm, to my farm, + Loathing we returned; +Pale beneath a gallow's arm + The planet Saturn burned. + + + +III. DERELICTION + + +O'er the tears that we shed, dear + The bitter vines twist, +And the hawk and the red deer + They keep where we kiss'd: +All broken lies the shieling + That sheltered from rain, +With a star to pierce the ceiling, + And the dawn an empty pane. + +Thro' the mist, up the moorway, + Fade hunters and pack; +From the ridge to thy doorway + Happy voices float back ... +O, between the threads o' mist, love, + Reach your hands from the house. +Only mind that we kiss'd, love, + And forget the broken vows! + + + + +TWO FOLK SONGS + +I. THE SOLDIER + +(_Roumanian_) + + +_When winter trees bestrew the path, + Still to the twig a leaf or twain +Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath, + But that foreknown forlorner pain-- + To fall when green leaves come again._ + +I watch'd him sleep by the furrow-- + The first that fell in the fight. +His grave they would dig to-morrow: + The battle called them to-night. + +They bore him aside to the trees, there, + By his undigg'd grave content +To lie on his back at ease there, + And hark how the battle went. + +The battle went by the village, + And back through the night were borne +Far cries of murder and pillage, + With smoke from the standing corn. + +But when they came on the morrow, + They talk'd not over their task, +As he listen'd there by the furrow; + For the dead mouth could not ask-- + +_How went the battle, my brothers?_ + But that he will never know: +For his mouth the red earth smothers + As they shoulder their spades and go. + +Yet he cannot sleep thereunder, + But ever must toss and turn. +_How went the battle, I wonder?_ + --And that he will never learn! + +_When winter trees bestrew the path, + Still to the twig a leaf or twain +Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath, + But that foreknown, forlorner pain-- +To fall when green leaves come again!_ + + + +II. THE MARINE + +(_Poitevin_) + + +The bold Marine comes back from war, + So kind: +The bold Marine comes back from war, + So kind: +With a raggety coat and a worn-out shoe. +"Now, poor Marine, say, whence come you, + All so kind?" + +I travel back from the war, madame, + So kind: +I travel back from the war, madame, + So kind: +For a glass of wine and a bowl of whey, +'Tis I will sing you a ballad gay, + All so kind. + +The bold Marine he sips his whey, + So kind: +He sips and he sings his ballad gay, + So kind: +But the dame she turns toward the wall, +To wipe her tears that fall and fall, + All so kind. + +What aileth you at my song, madame, + So kind? +I hope that I sing no wrong, madame, + So kind? + +Or grieves it you a beggar should dine +On a bowl of whey and the good white wine, + All so kind? + +It ails me not at your ballad gay, + So kind: +It ails me not for the wine and whey, + So kind: + +But it ails me sore for the voice and eyes +Of a good man long in Paradise.-- + Ah, so kind! + +You have fair children five, madame, + So kind: +You have fair children five, madame, + So kind: + +Your good man left you children three; +Whence came these twain for company, + All so kind? + +"A letter came from the war, Marine, + So kind: +A letter came from the war, Marine, + So kind: +A while I wept for the good man dead, +But another good man in a while I wed, + All so kind." + +The bold Marine he drained his glass, + So kind: +The bold Marine he drained his glass, + So kind. +He said not a word, though the tears they flowed, +But back to his regiment took the road, + All so kind. + + + + +MARY LESLIE + + +_Before Vittoria, June_ 20, 1813 + + +O Mary Leslie, blithe and shrill + The bugles blew for Spain: +And you below the Castle Hill + Stood in the crowd your lane. +Then hearts were wild to watch us pass, + Yet laith to let us go! +While mine said, "Fare-ye-well, my lass!" + And yours, "God keep my Jo!" + +Here by the bivouac fire, above + These fields of savage play, +I'll lift my love to meet thy love + Twa thousand miles away, + +Where yonder, yonder by the stars, + Nightlong there rins a burn, +And maids with lovers at the wars + May list their wraiths' return. + +More careless yet my spirit grows + Of fame, more sick of blood: +But I can think of Badajoz, + And yet that God is good. +Beyond the siege, beyond the stour, + Beyond the sack of towns, +I reach to pluck ae lily-floo'r + Where leaders press for crowns. + +O Mary! lily! bow'd and wet + With mair than mornin's rain! +The bugles up the Lawnmarket + Shall sound us home again. + +Then fare-ye-well, these foreign lands, + And be damn'd their bitter drouth. +With your dear face between my hands + And the cup held to my mouth, + My love, +It's clean cup to my mouth! + + + + +JENIFER'S LOVE + + +Small is my secret--let it pass-- + Small in your life the share I had, +Who sat beside you in the class, + Awed by the bright superior lad: + Whom yet with hot and eager face + I prompted when he missed his place. + +For you the call came swift and soon: + But sometimes in your holidays +You meet me trudging home at noon + To dinner through the dusty ways, + And recognized, and with a nod + Passed on, but never guessed--thank God! + +Truly our ways were separate. + I bent myself to hoe and drill, + +Yea, with an honest man to mate, + Fulfilling God Almighty's will; + And bore him children. But my prayers + Were yours--and, only after, theirs. + +While you--still loftier, more remote, + You sprang from stair to stair of fame, +And you've a riband on your coat, + And you've a title to your name; + But have you yet a star to shine + Above your bed, as I o'er mine? + + + + +TWO DUETS + + +_From "Arion," an unpublished Masque_ + +I + + +_He._ Aglai-a! Aglai-a! + Sweet, awaken and be glad. +_She._ Who is this that calls Aglaia? + Is it thou, my dearest lad? +_He._ 'Tis Arion, 'tis Arion, + Who calls thee from sleep-- + From slumber who bids thee + To follow and number + His kids and his sheep. +_She._ Nay, leave to entreat me! + If mother should spy on + Us twain, she would beat me. +_He._ Then come, my love, come! + And hide with Arion + Where green woods are dumb! + +_She._ Ar-i-on! Ar-i-on! + Closer, list! I am afraid! + +_He._ Whisper, then, thy love Arion, + From thy window, lily maid. + +_She._ Yet Aglaia, yet Aglaia + Hath heard them debate + Of wooing repenting-- + "Who trust to undoing, + Lament them too late." + +_He._ Nay, nay, when I woo thee, + Thy mother might spy on + All harm I shall do thee. + +_She._ I come, then--I come! + To follow Arion + Where green woods be dumb. + + + + +SONG + + Sparrow of Love, so sharp to peck, + Arrow of Love--I bare my neck + Down to the bosom. See, no fleck + + Of blood! I have never a wound; I go + Forth to the greenwood. Yet, heigh-ho! + What 'neath my girdle flutters so? + + 'Tis not a bird, and yet hath wings, + 'Tis not an arrow, yet it stings; + While in the wound it nests and sings-- + Heigh-ho! + +_He._ Of Arion, of Arion + That wound thou shalt learn; + What nothings 'tis made of, + And soft pretty soothings + In shade of the fern. + +_She._ When maids have a mind to, + Man's word they rely on, + Old warning are blind to-- + I come, then--I come + To walk with Arion + Where green woods are dumb! + + + II + + +_He._ Dear my love, and O my love, + And O my love so lately! + Did we wander yonder grove + And sit awhile sedately? + For either you did there conclude + To do at length as I did, + Or passion's fashion's turn'd a prude, + And troth's an oath derided. + +_She._ Yea, my love--and nay, my love-- + And ask me not to tell, love, + While I delay'd an idle day + What 'twixt us there befell, love. + Yet either I did sit beside + And do at length as you did, + Or my delight is lightly by + An idle lie deluded! + + + + +THE STATUES AND THE TEAR + + + All night a fountain pleads, + Telling her beads, +Her tinkling beads monotonous 'neath the moon; + And where she springs atween, + Two statues lean-- +Two Kings, their marble beards with moonlight + strewn. + + Till hate had frozen speech, + Each hated each, +Hated and died, and went unto his place: + And still inveterate + They lean and hate +With glare of stone implacable, face to face. + +One, who bade set them here + In stone austere, +To both was dear, and did not guess at all: + Yet with her new-wed lord + Walking the sward +Paused, and for two dead friends a tear let fall. + + She turn'd and went her way. + Yet in the spray +The shining tear attempts, but cannot lie. + Night-long the fountain drips, + But even slips +Untold that one bead of her rosary: + While they, who know it would + Lie if it could, +Lean on and hate, watching it, eye to eye. + + + + +NUPTIAL NIGHT + + +Hush! and again the chatter of the starling + Athwart the lawn! +Lean your head close and closer. O my darling!-- + It is the dawn. +Dawn in the dusk of her dream, + Dream in the hush of her bosom, unclose! +Bathed in the eye-bright beam, + Blush to her cheek, be a blossom, a rose! + +Go, nuptial night! the floor of Ocean tressing + With moon and star; +With benediction go and breathe thy blessing + On coasts afar. + +Hark! the theorbos thrum + O'er the arch'd wave that in white smother booms +"Mother of Mystery, come! + Fain for thee wait other brides, other grooms!" + +Go, nuptial night, my breast of hers bereaving! + Yet, O, tread soft! +Grow day, blithe day, the mountain shoulder heaving + More gold aloft! +Gold, rose, bird of the dawn, + All to her balcony gather unseen-- +Thrill through the curtain drawn, + Bless her, bedeck her, and bathe her, my Queen! + + + + +HESPERUS + + +Down in the street the last late hansoms go + Still westward, but with backward eyes of red + The harlot shuffles to her lonely bed; +The tall policeman pauses but to throw +A flash into the empty portico; + Then he too passes, and his lonely tread + Links all the long-drawn gas-lights on a thread +And ties them to one planet swinging low. + +O Hesperus! O happy star! to bend + O'er Helen's bosom in the trancèd west-- + To watch the hours heave by upon her breast +And at her parted lip for dreams attend: + If dawn defraud thee, how shall I be deem'd. + Who house within that bosom, and am dreamed? + + + + +CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE + + +Who lives in suit of armour pent + And hides himself behind a wall, +For him is not the great event, + The garland nor the Capitol. +And is God's guerdon less than they? + Nay, moral man, I tell thee Nay: +Nor shall the flaming forts be won + By sneaking negatives alone, +By Lenten fast or Ramazà n; + But by the challenge proudly thrown-- +_Virtue is that becrowns a Man!_ + +God, in His Palace resident + Of Bliss, beheld our sinful ball, +And charged His own Son innocent + Us to redeem from Adam's fall. + +"Yet must it be that men Thee slay." +"Yea, tho' it must, must I obey," +Said Christ; and came, His royal Son, +To die, and dying to atone + For harlot, thief, and publican. +Read on that rood He died upon-- + _Virtue is that becrowns a Man!_ + +Beneath that rood where He was bent + I saw the world's great captains all +Pass riding home from tournament + Adown the road from Roncesvalles-- +Lord Charlemagne, in one array +Lords Caesar, Cyrus, Attila, +Lord Alisaundre of Macedon ... +With flame on lance and habergeon + They passed, and to the rataplan +Of drums gave salutation-- + _"Virtue is that becrowns a Man!"_ +Had tall Achilles lounged in tent + For aye, and Xanthus neigh'd in stall, +The towers of Troy had ne'er been shent, + Nor stay'd the dance in Priam's hall. +Bend o'er thy book till thou be grey, +Read, mark, perpend, digest, survey, +Instruct thee deep as Solomon, +One only chapter thou canst con, + One lesson learn, one sentence scan, +One title and one colophon-- + _Virtue is that becrowns a Man!_ + +High Virtue's best is eloquent + With spur and not with martingall: +Swear not to her thou'rt continent: + BE COURTEOUS, BRAVE, AND LIBERAL. +God fashion'd thee of chosen clay +For service, nor did ever say, +"Deny thee this," "Abstain from yon," +But to inure thee, thew and bone. + To be confirmèd of the clan +That made immortal Marathon-- + _Virtue is that becrowns a Man!_ + + + ENVOY + + +Young Knight, the lists are set to-day! +Hereafter shall be time to pray +In sepulture, with hands of stone. +Ride, then! outride the bugle blown! + And gaily dinging down the van, +Charge with a cheer--_"Set on! Set on! + Virtue is that becrowns a Man!"_ + + + + +CORONATION HYMN + + + _Tune_--Luther's Chorale + "Ein' feste burg ist unser Gott" + + I + +Of old our City hath renown. + Of God are her foundations, +Wherein this day a King we crown + Elate among the nations. + Acknowledge, then, thou King-- + And you, ye people, sing-- + What deeds His arm hath wrought: + Yea, let their tale be taught + To endless generations. + + II + +So long, so far, Jehovah guides + His people's path attending, +By pastures green and water-sides + Toward His hill ascending; + Whence they beneath the stars + Shall view their ancient wars, + Their perils, far removed. + O might of mercy proved! + O love past comprehending! + + III + +He was that God, for man which spake + From Sinai forth in thunder; +He was that Love, for man which brake + The dreadful grave asunder. + Lord over every lord, + His consecrating word + An earthly prince awaits; + Lift then your heads, ye gates! + Your King comes riding under. + +IV + +Be ye lift up, ye deathless doors; + Let wave your banners o'er Him! +Exult, ye streets; be strewn, ye floors, + With palm, with bay, before Him! + With transport fetch Him in, + Ye ransom'd folk from sin-- + Your Lord, return'd to bless! + O kneeling king, confess-- + O subject men, adore Him! + + + + +THREE MEN OF TRURO + +I + +E. W. B. + +_Archbishop of Canterbury: sometime the First Bishop +of Truro. October_ 1896 + + The Church's outpost on a neck of land-- + By ebb of faith the foremost left the last-- + Dull, starved of hope, we watched the driven sand + Blown through the hour-glass, covering our past, + Counting no hours to our relief--no hail + Across the hills, and on the sea no sail! + + Sick of monotonous days we lost account, + In fitful dreams remembering days of old +And nights--th' erect Archangel on the Mount + With sword that drank the dawn; the Vase of Gold + The moving Grail athwart the starry fields + Where all the heavenly spearmen clashed their + shields. + + In dereliction by the deafening shore + We sought no more aloft, but sunk our eyes, + Probing the sea for food, the earth for ore. + Ah, yet had one good soldier of the skies + Burst through the wrack reporting news of them, + How had we run and kissed his garment's hem! + + Nay, but he came! Nay, but he stood and cried, + Panting with joy and the fierce fervent race, + "Arm, arm! for Christ returns!"--and all our pride, + Our ancient pride, answered that eager face: + "Repair His battlements!--Your Christ is near!" + And, half in dream, we raised the soldiers' cheer. + +Far, as we flung that challenge, fled the ghosts-- + Back, as we built, the obscene foe withdrew-- + High to the song of hammers sang the hosts + Of Heaven--and lo! the daystar, and a new + Dawn with its chalice and its wind as wine; + And youth was hope, and life once more divine! + + * * * * * + + Day, and hot noon, and now the evening glow, + And 'neath our scaffolding the city spread + Twilit, with rain-wash'd roofs, and--hark!--below, + One late bell tolling. "Dead? Our Captain dead?" + Nay, here with us he fronts the westering sun + With shaded eyes and counts the wide fields won. + + Aloft with us! And while another stone + Swings to its socket, haste with trowel and hod! + Win the old smile a moment ere, alone, + Soars the great soul to bear report to God. + Night falls; but thou, dear Captain, from thy star + Look down, behold how bravely goes the war! + + + + +II + +A. B. D. + +_Canon Residentiary and Precentor of Truro +December_ 1903 + + Many had builded, and, the building done, + Through our adornèd gates with din + Came Prince and Priest, with pipe and clarion + Leading the right God in. + + Yet, had the perfect temple quickened then + And whispered us between our song, + _"Give God the praise. To whom of living men + Shall next our thanks belong?"_ + + Then had the few, the very few, that wist + His Atlantean labour, swerved + Their eyes to seek, and in the triumph missed, + The man that most deserved. + +He only of us was incorporate + In all that fabric; stone by stone + Had built his life in her, had made his fate + And her perfection one; + + Given all he had; and now--when all was given-- + Far spent, within a private shade, + Heard the loud organ pealing praise to Heaven, + And learned why man is made.-- + + To break his strength, yet always to be brave; + To preach, and act, the Crucified ... + Sweep by, O Prince and Prelate, up the nave, + And fill it with your pride! + + Better than ye what made th' old temples great, + Because he loved, he understood; + Indignant that his darling, less in state, + Should lack a martyr's blood. + +She hath it now. O mason, strip away + Her scaffolding, the flower disclose! + Lay by the tools with his o'er-wearied clay-- + But She shall bloom unto its Judgment Day, + His ever-living Rose! + + +III + +C. W. S. + +_The Fourth Bishop of Truro +May_ 1912 + + Prince of courtesy defeated, + Heir of hope untimely cheated, + Throned awhile he sat, and, seated, + + Saw his Cornish round him gather; + "Teach us how to live, good Father!" + How to die he taught us rather: + +Heard the startling trumpet sound him, + Smiled upon the feast around him, + Rose, and wrapp'd his coat, and bound him + + When beyond the awful surges, + Bathed in dawn on Syrian verges, + God! thy star, thy Cross emerges. + +_And so sing we all to it--_ + + Crux, in coelo lux superna, + Sis in carnis hac taberna + Mihi pedibus lucerna: + + Quo vexillum dux cohortis + Sistet, super flumen Mortis, + Te, flammantibus in portis! + + + + +ALMA MATER + + _Know you her secret none can utter?_ + Hers of the Book, the tripled Crown? + Still on the spire the pigeons flutter, + Still by the gateway flits the gown; + Still on the street, from corbel and gutter, + Faces of stone look down. + + Faces of stone, and stonier faces-- + Some from library windows wan + Forth on her gardens, her green spaces, + Peer and turn to their books anon. + Hence, my Muse, from the green oases + Gather the tent, begone! + +Nay, should she by the pavement linger + Under the rooms where once she played, + Who from the feast would rise to fling her + One poor _sou_ for her serenade? + One short laugh for the antic finger + Thrumming a lute-string frayed? + + Once, my dear--but the world was young then-- + Magdalen elms and Trinity limes-- + Lissom the blades and the backs that swung then, + Eight good men in the good old times-- + Careless we, and the chorus flung then + Under St Mary's chimes! + + Reins lay loose and the ways led random-- + Christ Church meadow and Iffley track, + "Idleness horrid and dog-cart" (tandem), + Aylesbury grind and Bicester pack-- + Pleasant our lines, and faith! we scanned 'em: + Having that artless knack. + +Come, old limmer, the times grow colder; + Leaves of the creeper redden and fall. + Was it a hand then clapped my shoulder?-- + Only the wind by the chapel wall! + Dead leaves drift on the lute ... So, fold her + Under the faded shawl. + + Never we wince, though none deplore us, + We who go reaping that we sowed; + Cities at cock-crow wake before us-- + Hey, for the lilt of the London road! + One look back, and a rousing chorus! + Never a palinode! + + Still on her spire the pigeons hover; + Still by her gateway haunts the gown. + Ah! but her secret? You, young lover, + Drumming her old ones forth from town, + Know you the secret none discover? + Tell it--when _you_ go down. + +Yet if at length you seek her, prove her, + Lean to her whispers never so nigh; + Yet if at last not less her lover + You in your hansom leave the High; + Down from her towers a ray shall hover-- + Touch you, a passer-by! + + + + +CHRISTMAS EVE + + Friend, old friend in the Manse by the fireside sitting, + Hour by hour while the grey ash drips from the log; + You with a book on your knee, your wife with her knitting, + Silent both, and between you, silent, the dog. + + Silent here in the south sit I; and, leaning, + One sits watching the fire, with chin upon hand; + Gazes deep in its heart--but ah! its meaning + Rather I read in the shadows and understand. + + Dear, kind she is; and daily dearer, kinder, + Love shuts the door on the lamp and our two selves: + +Not my stirring awakened the flame that behind her + Lit up a face in the leathern dusk of the shelves. + + Veterans are my books, with tarnished gilding: + Yet there is one gives back to the winter grate + Gold of a sunset flooding a college building, + Gold of an hour I waited--as now I wait-- + + For a light step on the stair, a girl's low laughter, + Rustle of silk, shy knuckles tapping the oak, + Dinner and mirth upsetting my rooms and, after, + Music, waltz upon waltz, till the June day broke. + + Where is her laughter now? Old tarnished covers-- + You that reflect her with fresh young face unchanged-- + Tell that we met, that we parted, not as lovers; + Time, chance, brought us together, and these estranged. + + + + +Loyal were we to the mood of the moment granted, + Bruised not its bloom, but danced on the wave of its joy; + Passion--wisdom--fell back like a fence enchanted, + Ringing a floor for us both--whole Heaven for the boy! + + Where is she now? Regretted not, though departed, + Blessings attend and follow her all her days! + --Look to your hound: he dreams of the hares he started, + Whines, and awakes, and stretches his limbs to the blaze. + + Far old friend in the Manse, by the green ash peeling + Flake by flake from the heat in the Yule log's core, + Look past the woman you love. On wall and ceiling + Climbs not a trellis of roses--and ghosts--of yore? + +Thoughts, thoughts! Whistle them back like hounds returning-- + Mark how her needles pause at a sound upstairs. + Time for bed, and to leave the log's heart burning! + Give ye good-night, but first thank God in your prayers! + + + + +THE ROOT + + + Deep, Love, yea, very deep. + And in the dark exiled, +I have no sense of light but still to creep +And know the breast, but not the eyes. Thy child +Saw ne'er his mother near, nor if she smiled; + But only feels her weep. + + Yet clouds and branches green + There be aloft, somewhere, +And winds, and angel birds that build between, +As I believe--and I will not despair; +For faith is evidence of things not seen. + Love! if I could be there! + +I will be patient, dear. + Perchance some part of me +Puts forth aloft and feels the rushing year +And shades the bird, and is that happy tree +Then were it strength to serve and not appear, + And bliss, though blind, to be. + + + + +TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME A BOX OF VIOLETS + + +Nay, more than violets +These thoughts of thine, friend! +Rather thy reedy brook-- +Taw's tributary-- +At midnight murmuring, +Descried them, the delicate +Dark-eyed goddesses, +There by his cressy bed +Dissolved and dreaming +Dreams that distilled into dew +All the purple of night, +All the shine of a planet. + +Whereat he whispered; +And they arising-- + +Of day's forget-me-nots +The duskier sisters-- +Descended, relinquished +The orchard, the trout-pool, +Torridge and Tamar, +The Druid circles, +Sheepfolds of Dartmoor, +Granite and sandstone; +By Roughtor, Dozmare, +Down the vale of the Fowey +Moving in silence, +Brushing the nightshade +By bridges cyclopean, +By Trevenna, Treverbyn, +Lawharne and Largin, +By Glynn, Lanhydrock, +Restormel, Lostwithiel, +Dark wood, dim water, dreaming town; +Down the vale of the Fowey +To the tidal water +Washing the feet +Of fair St Winnow-- +Each, in her exile +Musing the message, +Passed, as the starlit +Shadow of Ruth from the land of the Moabite. + +So they came, +Valley-born, valley-nurtured-- +Came to the tideway +The jetties, the anchorage, +The salt wind piping, +Snoring in Equinox, +By ships at anchor, +By quays tormented, +Storm-bitten streets; +Came to the Haven +Crying, "Ah, shelter us, +The strayed ambassadors, +Love's lost legation +On a comfortless coast!" + +Nay, but a little sleep, +A little folding +Of petals to the lull +Of quiet rainfalls-- +Here in my garden, +In angle sheltered +From north and east wind-- +Softly shall recreate +The courage of charity, +Henceforth not to me only +Breathing the message. + +Clean-breath'd Sirens! +Hencefore the mariner. + + + + +TO A FRIEND + + +Here in the fairway +Fetching--foul of keel, +Long-stray but fortunate-- +Out of the fogs, the vast +Atlantic solitudes. +Shall, by the hawser-pin +Waiting the signal +_Leave--go--anchor!_ +Scent the familiar, +The unforgettable +Fragrance of home; +So in a long breath +Bless us unknowing: +Bless them, the violets, +Bless me, the gardener, +Bless thee, the giver. + + + + +OF THREE CHILDREN + +OF THREE CHILDREN CHOOSING +A CHAPLET OF VERSE + + +You and I and Burd so blithe-- + Burd so blithe, and you, and I-- +The Mower he would whet his scythe + Before the dew was dry. + +And he woke soon, but we woke soon + And drew the nursery blind, +All wondering at the waning moon + With the small June roses twined: +Low in her cradle swung the moon + With an elfin dawn behind. + +In whispers, while our elders slept, + We knelt and said our prayers, +And dress'd us and on tiptoe crept + Adown the creaking stairs. + +The world's possessors lay abed, + And all the world was ours-- +"Nay, nay, but hark! the Mower's tread! + And we must save the flowers!" + +The Mower knew not rest nor haste-- + That old unweary man: +But we were young. We paused and raced + And gather'd while we ran. + +O youth is careless, youth is fleet, + With heart and wing of bird! +The lark flew up beneath our feet, + To his copse the pheasant whirr'd; + +The cattle from their darkling lairs + Heaved up and stretch'd themselves; +Almost they trod at unawares + Upon the busy elves + +That dropp'd their spools of gossamer, + To dangle and to dry, +And scurried home to the hollow fir + Where the white owl winks an eye. + +Nor you, nor I, nor Burd so blithe + Had driven them in this haste; +But the old, old man, so lean and lithe, + That afar behind us paced; +So lean and lithe, with shoulder'd scythe, + And a whetstone at his waist. + +Within the gate, in a grassy round + Whence they had earliest flown, +He upside-down'd his scythe, and ground + Its edge with careful hone. +But we heeded not, if we heard, the sound, + For the world was ours alone; +The world was ours!--and with a bound + The conquering Sun upshone! + +And while as from his level ray + We stood our eyes to screen. +The world was not as yesterday + Our homelier world had been-- +So grey and golden-green it lay + All in his quiet sheen, +That wove the gold into the grey, + The grey into the green. +Sure never hand of Puck, nor wand + Of Mab the fairies' queen, +Nor prince nor peer of fairyland +Had power to weave that wide riband + Of the grey, the gold, the green. + +But the Gods of Greece had been before + And walked our meads along, +The great authentic Gods of yore +That haunt the earth from shore to shore + Trailing their robes of song. + +And where a sandall'd foot had brush'd, + And where a scarfed hem, +The flowers awoke from sleep and rush'd + Like children after them. + +Pell-mell they poured by vale and stream, + By lawn and steepy brae-- +"O children, children! while you dream, + Your flowers run all away!" + +But afar and abed and sleepily + The children heard us call; +And Burd so blithe and you and I + Must be gatherers for all. + +The meadow-sweet beside the hedge, + The dog-rose and the vetch, +The sworded iris 'mid the sedge, + The mallow by the ditch-- + +With these, and by the wimpling burn, + Where the midges danced in reels, +With the watermint and the lady fern + We brimm'd out wicker creels: + +Till, all so heavily they weigh'd, + On a bank we flung us down, +Shook out our treasures 'neath the shade + And wove this Triple Crown. + +Flower after flower--for some there were + The noonday heats had dried, +And some were dear yet could not bear + A lovelier cheek beside, +And some were perfect past compare-- +Ah, darlings! what a world of care + It cost us to decide! + +Natheless we sang in sweet accord, + Each bending o'er her brede-- +"O there be flowers in Oxenford, + And flowers be north of Tweed, +And flowers there be on earthly sward + That owe no mortal seed!" + +And these, the brightest that we wove, + Were Innocence and Truth, +And holy Peace and angel Love, + Glad Hope and gentle Ruth. +Ah, bind them fast with triple twine +Of Memory, the wild woodbine +That still, being human, stays divine, + And alone is age's youth!... + +But hark! but look! the warning rook + Wings home in level flight; +The children tired with play and book + Have kiss'd and call'd Good-night! + +Ah, sisters, look! What fields be these + That lie so sad and shorn? +What hand has cut our coppices, +And thro' the trimm'd, the ruin'd, trees + Lets wail a wind forlorn? + +'Tis Time, 'tis Time has done this crime + And laid our meadows waste-- +The bent unwearied tyrant Time, + That knows nor rest nor haste. + +Yet courage, children; homeward bring + Your hearts, your garlands high; +For we have dared to do a thing + That shall his worst defy. + +We cannot nail the dial's hand; + We cannot bind the sun +By Gibeon to stay and stand, + Or the moon o'er Ajalon; + +We cannot blunt th' abhorred shears, + Nor shift the skeins of Fate, +Nor say unto the posting years + "Ye shall not desolate." + +We cannot cage the lion's rage, + Nor teach the turtle-dove +Beside what well his moan to tell + Or to haunt one only grove; +But the lion's brood will range for food + As the fledged bird will rove. + +And east and west we three may wend-- + Yet we a wreath have wound +For us shall wind withouten end + The wide, wide world around: + +Be it east or west, and ne'er so far, +In east or west shall peep no star, +No blossom break from ground, +But minds us of the wreath we wove +Of innocence and holy love + That in the meads we found, +And handsell'd from the Mower's scythe, +And bound with memory's living withe-- +You and I and Burd so blithe-- + Three maidens on a mound: +And all of happiness was ours +Shall find remembrance 'mid the flowers, +Shall take revival from the flowers + And by the flowers be crown'd. + + + + +EPILOGUE + +TO A MOTHER, ON SEEING HER SMILE REPEATED +IN HER DAUGHTER'S EYES + + +A thousand songs I might have made + Of You, and only You; +A thousand thousand tongues of fire +That trembled down a golden wire + To lamp the night with stars, to braid +The morning bough with dew. + +Within the greenwood girl and boy + Had loiter'd to their lure, +And men in cities closed their books +To dream of Spring and running brooks +And all that ever was of joy + For manhood to abjure. + +And I'd have made them strong, so strong + Outlasting towers and towns-- +Millennial shepherds 'neath the thorn +Had piped them to a world reborn, +And danced Delight the dale along + And up the daisied downs. + +A thousand songs I might have made... + But you required them not; +Content to reign your little while +Ere, abdicating with a smile, +You pass'd into a shade, a shade + Immortal--and forgot! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Vigil of Venus and Other Poems by "Q", by Q + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10133 *** diff --git a/10133-h/10133-h.htm b/10133-h/10133-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..90781b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/10133-h/10133-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2790 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<title>The Vigil Of Venus And Other Poems</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<style type="text/css"> +body { font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; + background-color: #ffffff;} +a:link {color:#000000} +a:visited {color:#000000} +a:hover {color:#000000} + +</style> +</head> +<!-- Converted to HTML for the Gutenberg Project by Sjaani --> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10133 ***</div> + +<table width="80%" border="0" align="center" cellspacing="10"> + <tr> + <td> + +<h1 align="center">THE VIGIL OF VENUS</h1> +<h2 align="center">AND OTHER POEMS BY</h2> +<h2 align="center">"Q"</h2> +<h3 align="center">First Published, August 22nd, 1912<br /> + Second Edition, 1912</h3> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> +<p> +<strong>TO MAURICE HEWLETT</strong> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">HEWLETT! as ship to ship</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Let us the ensign dip.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">There may be who despise</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">For dross our merchandise,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Our balladries, our bales</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Of woven tales;</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Yet, Hewlett, the glad gales</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Favonian! And what spray</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Our dolphins toss'd in play,</span><br /> +Full in old Triton's beard, on Iris' shimmering veils!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Scant tho' the freight of gold</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Commercial in our hold,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Pæstum, Eridanus</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Perchance have barter'd us</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">'Bove chrematistic care</span><br /> +</p> + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<p><a href="#vigilvenus">THE VIGIL OF VENUS</a><br /> +<a href="#pervigilium">PERVIGILIUM VENERIS</a><br /> +<a href="#regent">THE REGENT—A DRAMA IN ONE ACT</a><br /> + +<a href="#poems">POEMS</a><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#exmoor">EXMOOR VERSES</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#vashti">VASHTI'S SONG</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#saturn">SATURN</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#dereliction">DERELICTION</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#folksong">TWO FOLK SONGS</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#soldier">THE SOLDIER</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#marine">THE MARINE</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#maryleslie">MARY LESLIE</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#jenslove">JENIFER'S LOVE</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#twoduets">TWO DUETS</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#statutear">THE STATUES AND THE TEAR</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#nuptial">NUPTIAL NIGHT</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#hesperus">HESPERUS</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#royalvirtue">CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#coronation">CORONATION HYMN</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#truro">THREE MEN OF TRURO</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#almamater">ALMA MATER</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#christmas">CHRISTMAS EVE</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#theroot">THE ROOT</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#violets">TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME A BOX OF VIOLETS</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#children">OF THREE CHILDREN CHOOSING A CHAPLET OF VERSE</a></span><br /> +<a href="#smileyes">EPILOGUE: TO A MOTHER, ON SEEING HER SMILE REPEATED +IN HER DAUGHTER'S EYES</a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<a name="vigilvenus"></a><h2>THE VIGIL OF VENUS</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The <i>Pervigilium Veneris</i>—of unknown authorship, but clearly belonging +to the late literature of the Roman Empire—has survived in two MSS., +both preserved at Paris in the <i>Bibliothèque Nationale</i>.</p> + +<p>Of these two MSS. the better written may be assigned (at earliest) to +the close of the seventh century; the other (again at earliest) to the +close of the ninth. Both are corrupt; the work of two illiterate +copyists who—strange to say—were both smatterers enough to betray +their little knowledge by converting <i>Pervigilium</i> into <i>Per Virgilium</i> +(<i>scilicet</i>, "by Virgil"): thus helping us to follow the process of +thought by which the Middle Ages turned Virgil into a wizard. Here and +there the texts become quite silly, separately or in consent; and just +where they agree in the most surprising way—<i>i.e.</i> in the arrangement +of the lines—the conjectural emendator is invited to do his worst by a +note at the head of the older Codex, "Sunt vero versus xxii"—"There are +rightly twenty-two lines."</p> + +<p>This has started much ingenious guess-work. But no really convincing +rearrangement has been achieved as yet; and I have been content to take +the text pretty well as it stands, with a few corrections upon which +most scholars agree. With a poem of "paratactic structure" the best of +us may easily go astray by transposing lines, or blocks of lines, to +correspond with <i>our</i> sequence of thought; and I shall be content if, +following the only texts to which appeal can be made,[1] my translation +be generally intelligible.</p> + +<p>It runs pretty closely, line for line, with the original; because one +may love and emulate classical terseness even while despairing to rival +it. But it does not attempt to be literal; for even were it worth doing, +I doubt if it be possible for anyone in our day to hit precisely the +note intended by an author or heard by a reader in the eighth century. +Men change subtly as nations succeed to nations, religions to religions, +philosophies to philosophies; and it is a property of immortal poetry to +shift its appeal. It does not live by continuing to mean the some thing. +It grows as we grow. We smile, for instance, when some interlocutor in a +dialogue of Plato takes a line from the <i>Iliad</i> and applies it seriously +<i>au pied de la lettre</i>. We can hardly conceive what the great line +conveyed to him; but it may mean something equally serious to us, though +in a different way.</p> + +<p>[1] Facsimiles of the two Codices can be studied in a careful edition of +the <i>Pervigilum</i> by Mr Cecil Clementi, published by Mr B.H. Blackwell of +Oxford, 1911.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<a name="pervigilium"></a><h2>PERVIGILIUM VENERIS</h2> + +<p><i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet</i>.<br /> +Ver novum, ver jam canorurn, vere natus orbis est;<br /> +Vere concordant amores, vere nubunt alites,<br /> +Et nemus comam resolvit de maritis imbribus.<br /> +Cras amorum copulatrix inter umbras arborum 5<br /> +Inplicat casas virentes de flagello myrteo:<br /> +Cras Dione jura dicit fulta sublimi throno.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet</i>.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p><i>To-morrow—What news of to-morrow?<br /> +Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew</i>!<br /> +It is Spring, it is chorussing Spring; 'tis the birthday of Earth, and for you!<br /> +It is Spring; and the Loves and the birds wing together and woo to accord<br /> +Where the bough to the rain has unbraided her locks as a bride to her lord.<br /> +For she walks—she our Lady, our Mistress of Wedlock—the woodlands atween, 5<br /> +And the bride-bed she weaves them, with myrtle enlacing, with curtains of green.<br /> +Look aloft! list the law of Dione, sublime and enthroned in the blue:<br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew</i>!</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Tunc liquore de superno spumeo et ponti globo,<br /> +Cærulas inter catervas, inter et bipedes equos, 10<br /> +Fecit undantem Dionen de maritis imbribus.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quiqiie amavit cras amet</i>.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Ipsa gemmis purpurantem pingit annum floribus,<br /> +Ipsa surgentes papillas de Favoni spiritu<br /> +Urget in toros tepentes; ipsa roris lucidi 15<br /> +Noctis aura quem relinquit, spargit umentes aquas.<br /> +Et micant lacrimæ trementes de caduco pondere:</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Time was that a rain-cloud begat her, impregning the heave of the deep,<br /> +'Twixt hooves of sea-horses a-scatter, stampeding the dolphins as sheep. 10<br /> +Lo! arose of that bridal Dione, rainbow'd and besprent of its dew!<br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew</i>!</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>She, she, with her gem-dripping finger enamels the wreath of the year;<br /> +She, she, when the maid-bud is nubile and swelling winds—whispers anear,<br /> +Disguising her voice in the Zephyr's—"So secret the bed! And thou shy?" 15<br /> +She, she, thro' the hush'd humid Midsummer night draws the dew from on high;<br /> +Dew bright with the tears of its origin, dew with its weight on the bough,</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Gutta præceps orbe parvo sustinet casus suos.<br /> +En, pudorem florulentæ prodiderunt purpuræ:<br /> +Umor ille quern serenis astra rorant noctibus 20<br /> +Mane virgineas papillas solvit umenti peplo.<br /> +Ipsa jussit mane ut udas virgines nubant rosæ;<br /> +Fusa Paphies de cruore deque Amoris osculis<br /> +Deque gemmis deque flammis deque solis purpuris,<br /> +Cras ruborem qui latebat veste tectus ignea 25<br /> +Unico marita nodo non pudebit solvere.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet</i>.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Misdoubting and clinging and trembling—"Now, now must I fall? Is it now?"<br /> +Star-fleck'd on the stem of the brier as it gathers and falters and flows,<br /> +Lo! its trail runs a ripple of fire on the nipple it bids be a rose, 20<br /> +Yet englobes it diaphanous, veil upon veil in a tiffany drawn<br /> +To bedrape the small virginal breasts yet unripe for the spousal of dawn;<br /> +Till the vein'd very vermeil of Venus, till Cupid's incarnadine kiss,<br /> +Till the ray of the ruby, the sunrise, ensanguine the bath of her bliss;<br /> +Till the wimple her bosom uncover, a tissue of fire to the view, 25<br /> +And the zone o'er the wrists of the lover slip down as they reach to undo.<br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew</i>!</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Ipsa nymphas diva luco jussit ire myrteo:<br /> +It puer comes puellis. Nee tamen credi potest<br /> +Esse Amorem feriatum, si sagittas vexerit. 30<br /> +Ite, nymphæ, posuit arma, feriatus est Amor;<br /> +Jussus est inermis ire, nudus ire jussus est,<br /> +Neu quid arcu, neu sagitta, neu quid igne Iæderet;<br /> +Sed tamen nymphse cavete, quod Cupido pulcher est;<br /> +Est in armis totus idem quando nudus est Amor! 35</p><br /> +<br /> +<p><i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit eras amet</i>.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Conpari Venus pudore mittit ad te virgines:</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>"Go, maidens," Our Lady commands, "while the myrtle is green in the groves,<br /> +Take the Boy to your escort." "But ah!" cry the maidens, "what trust is in Love's<br /> +Keeping holiday too, while he weareth his archery, tools of his trade?" 30<br /> +"Go! he lays them aside, an apprentice released; ye may wend unafraid.<br /> +See, I bid him disarm, he disarms; mother-naked I bid him to go,<br /> +And he goes mother-naked. What flame can he shoot without arrow or bow?"<br /> +Yet beware ye of Cupid, ye maidens! Beware most of all when he charms<br /> +As a child: for the more he runs naked, the more he's a strong man-at-arms. 35</p><br /> +<br /> +<p><i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew!<br /> +"Lady Dian"—Behold how demurely the damsels approach her and sue—</i> +</p> +<p>Una res est quam rogamus: cede, virgo Delia,<br /> +Ut nemus sit incruentum de ferinis stragibus.<br /> +Ipsa vellet ut venires, si deceret virginem: 40<br /> +Jam tribus choros videres feriatos noctibus<br /> +Congreges inter catervas ire per saltus tuos,<br /> +Floreas inter coronas, myrteas inter casas:<br /> +Nee Ceres nee Bacchus absunt, nee poetarum Deus;<br /> +De tenente tota nox est pervigilia canticis: 45<br /> +Regnet in silvis Dione; tu recede, Delia.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet</i>.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Hear Venus her only petition! Dear maiden of<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">Delos, depart!</span><br /><br /> +Let the forest be bloodless to-day, unmolested the<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">roe and the hart!</span><br /><br /> +Holy huntress, thyself she would bid be her guest, 40<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">could thy chastity stoop</span><br /><br /> +To approve of our revels, our dances—three<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">nights that we weave in a troop</span><br /><br /> +Arm-in-arm thro' thy sanctu'ries whirling, till faint<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">and dispersed in the grove</span><br /><br /> +We lie with thy lilies for chaplets, thy myrtles for<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">arbours of love:</span><br /><br /> +And Apollo, with Ceres and Bacchus to chorus—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">song, harvest, and wine—</span><br /><br /> +Hymns thee dispossess'd, "'Tis Dione who reigns! 45<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">Let Diana resign!"</span><br /><br /> +O, the wonderful nights of Dione! dark bough,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">with her star shining thro'!</span><br /><br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">loved, love anew!</span></i> +</p> +<p>Jussit Hyblæis tribunal stare diva floribus;<br /> +Præses ipsa jura dicit, adsederunt Gratiæ.<br /> +Hybla, totos funde floras quidquid annus adtulit; 50<br /> +Hybla, florum rumpe vestem quantus Ætnæ campus est.</p> +<p>Ruris hic erunt puellæ, vel puellæ montium,<br /> +Quæque silvas, quæque lucos, quæque fontes incolunt:</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Jussit omnes adsidere mater alitis dei,<br /> +Jussit et nudo puellas nil Amori credere. 55</p><br /> +<br /> +<p><i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet.</i><br /> +She has set up her court, has Our Lady, in Hybla,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">and deckt it with blooms:—</span><br /><br /> +With the Graces at hand for assessors Dione dispenses<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">her dooms.</span><br /><br /> +Now burgeon, O Hybla! put forth and abound, till 50<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Proserpina's field,</span><br /><br /> +To the foison thy lap overflowing its laurel of Sicily<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">yield.</span><br /><br /> +Call, assemble the nymphs—hamadryad and dryad—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">the echoes who court</span><br /><br /> +From the rock, who the rushes inhabit, in ripples<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">who swim and disport.</span><br /><br /> +"I admonish you maids—I, his mother, who suckled<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">the scamp ere he flew—</span><br /><br /> +An ye trust to the Boy flying naked, some pestilent 55<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">prank ye shall rue."</span><br /><br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">loved, love anew!</span></i> +</p> +<p>Et rigentibus virentes ducit umbras floribus:<br /> +Cras erit quum primus Æther copulavit nuptias,<br /> +Et pater totum creavit vernis annum nubibus,<br /> +In sinum maritus imber fluxit almæ conjugis, 60<br /> +Unde fetus mixtus omnes aleret magno corpore.<br /> +Ipsa venas atque mentem permeanti spiritu<br /> +Intus occultis gubernat procreatrix viribus,<br /> +Perque coelum, perque terras, perque pontum<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">subditum</span><br /><br /> +Pervium sui tenorem seminali tramite 65</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>She has coax'd her the shade of the hazel to cover<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">the wind-flower's birth.</span><br /><br /> +Since the day the Great Father begat it, descending<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">in streams upon Earth;</span><br /><br /> +When the Seasons were hid in his loins, and the<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Earth lay recumbent, a wife,</span><br /><br /> +To receive in the searching and genital shower the 60<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">soft secret of life.</span><br /><br /> +As the terrible thighs drew it down, and conceived,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">as the embryo ran</span><br /><br /> +Thoro' blood, thoro' brain, and the Mother gave all<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">to the making of man,</span><br /><br /> +She, she, our Dione, directed the seminal current to<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">creep,</span><br /><br /> +Penetrating, possessing, by devious paths all the<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">height, all the deep.</span><br /><br /> +She, of all procreation procuress, the share to the 65<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">furrow laid true;</span> +</p> +<p> +Inbuit, jussitque mundum nosse nascendi vias.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit<br /> +cras amet.</i></p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Ipsa Trojanos nepotes in Latinos transtulit,<br /> +Ipsa Laurentem puellam conjugem nato dedit;<br /> +Moxque Marti de sacello dat pudicam virginem; 70<br /> +Romuleas ipsa fecit cum Sabinis nuptias,<br /> +Unde Ramnes et Quirites proque prole posterum<br /> +Romuli matrem crearet et nepotem Cæsarem.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">amet.</span></i> +</p> +<p>She, she, to the womb drave the knowledge, and open'd the ecstasy through.<br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew!</i></p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Her favour it was fill'd the sail of the Trojan for Latium bound;<br /> +Her favour that won her Aeneas a bride on Laurentian ground,<br /> +And anon from the cloister inveigled the Virgin, the Vestal, to Mars; 70<br /> +As her wit by the wild Sabine rape recreated her Rome for its wars,<br /> +With the Ramnes, Quirites, together ancestrally proud as they drew<br /> +From Romulus down to our Caesar—last, best of that bone, of that thew.<br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew!</i></p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Rura fecundat voluptas: rura Venerem sentiunt: 75<br /> +Ipse Amor puer Dionse rure natus dicitur.<br /> +Hunc ager, cum parturiret ipsa, suscepit sinu:<br /> +Ipsa florum delicatis educavit osculis.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras,<br /> +amet</i>.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Ecce jam super genestas explicant tauri latus, 80<br /> +Quisque tutus quo tenetur conjugali foedere:<br /> +Subter umbras cum maritis ecce balantum greges;<br /> +Et canoras non tacere diva jussit alites.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Pleasure planteth a field; it conceives to the passion, 75<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">the pang, of his joy.</span><br /><br /> +In a field was Dione in labour delivered of Cupid the<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Boy;</span><br /><br /> +And the field in its fostering lap from her travail<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">received him: he drew</span><br /><br /> +Mother's milk from the delicate kisses of flowers;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">and he prosper'd and grew--</span><br /><br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">loved, love anew!</span></i> +</p> +<p>Lo! behold ye the bulls, with how lordly a flank 80<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">they besprawl on the broom!--</span><br /><br /> +Yet obey the uxorious yoke, and are tamed to<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Dione her doom.</span><br /><br /> +Or behear ye the sheep, to the husbanding rams<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">how they bleat to the shade!</span><br /><br /> +Or behear ye the birds, at the Goddess' command<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">how they sing unafraid!</span> +</p> +<p> +Jam loquaces ore rauco stagna cycni perstrepunt;<br /> +Adsonat Terei puella subter umbram populi, 85<br /> +Ut putes motus amoris ore dici musico,<br /> +Et neges queri sororem de marito barbaro.<br /> +Ilia cantat, nos tacemus. Quando ver venit meum?<br /> +Quando fiam uti chelidon, ut tacere desinam?<br /> +Perdidi Musam tacendo, nec me Apollo respicit; 90<br /> +Sic Amyclas, cum tacerent, perdidit silentium.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras<br /> +amet</i>.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Be it harsh as the swannery's clamour that shatters the hush of the lake,<br /> +Be it dulcet as where Philomela holds darkling the poplar awake, 85<br /> +So melting her soul into music, you'd vow 'twas her passion, her own,<br /> +She plaineth—her sister forgot, with the Daulian crime long-agone.<br /> +Hark! Hush! Draw around to the circle ... Ah, loitering Summer! Say when<br /> +For me shall be broken the charm, that I chirp with the swallow again?<br /> +I am old; I am dumb; I have waited to sing till Apollo withdrew— 90<br /> +So Amyclae a moment was mute, and for ever a wilderness grew.<br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew,</i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>To-morrow!—to-morrow!</i></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<p> +<strong>TO<br /> +CHARLES THURSBY<br /> +THE "ONLIE BEGETTER"</strong> +</p> + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<a name="regent"></a><h2>THE REGENT</h2> + +<p>A DRAMA IN ONE ACT</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<h2>DRAMATIS PERSONAE</h2> + +<p>CARL'ANTONIO, <i>Duke of Adria</i></p> + +<p>TONINO, <i>his young son</i></p> + +<p>LUCIO; <i>Count of Vallescura, brother to the Duchess</i></p> + +<p>CESARIO, <i>Captain of the Guard</i></p> + +<p>GAMBA, <i>a Fool</i></p> +<br /> + +<p>OTTILIA, <i>Duchess and Regent of Adria</i></p> + +<p>LUCETTA, <i>a Lady-in-Waiting</i></p> + +<p>FULVIA, <i>a Lady of the Court</i></p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Courtiers, Priests, Choristers, Soldiers, Mariners, +Townsfolk, etc.</i></p> + +<p><i>The Scene is the Ducal Palace of Adria, in the N. Adriatic</i></p> + +<p><i>The Date, 1571</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<h2>THE REGENT</h2> + +<p><strong>SCENE</strong>.——<i>A terraced courtyard before the Ducal Palace. +Porch and entrance of Chapel, R. A semicircular +balcony, L., with balustrade and marble seats, and an +opening whence a flight of steps leads down to the +city. The city lies out of sight below the terrace; +from which, between its cypresses and statuary, is +seen a straight stretch of a canal; beyond the canal are +sand-hills and the line of the open sea. Mountains, +L., dip down to the sea and form a curve of the +coast.</i></p> + +<p><i>As the curtain rises, a crowd of town and country +folk is being herded to the back of the terrace by the +Ducal Guard, under Cesario. Within the Chapel, to</i> +<i>the sound of an organ, boys' voices are chanting the +service of the Mass.</i></p> + +<p><i>Cesario, Gamba the Fool, Guards, Populace.</i></p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Way there! Give room! The Regent comes from Mass. +Guards, butt them on the toes—way there! give room! +Prick me that laggard's leg-importunate fools!</p> + +<p><i>Guards.</i> Room for the Regent! Room!</p> + +<p>[<i>The sacring bell rings within the Chapel.</i></p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Hark there, the bell!</p> + +<p>[<i>A pause. Men of the crowd take off their caps.</i></p> + +<p>Could ye not leave, this day of all the year, +Your silly suits, petitions, quarrels, pleas? +Could ye not leave, this once in seven years, +Our Lady to come holy-quiet from Mass. +Lean on the wall, and loose her cage-bird heart, +To lift and breast and dance upon the breeze. +Draws home her lord the Duke?</p> + +<p><i>Crowd.</i> Long live the Duke!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> The devil, then! Why darken his approach?</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Gamba (from the bench where he has been mending his +viol).</i> Because, Captain, 'tis a property knaves +and fools have in common—to stand in their own +light, as 'tis of soldiers to talk bad logic. That +knave, now—he with the red nose and the black +eye—the Duke's colours, loyal man!—you clap +an iron on his leg, and ask him why he is not +down in the city, hanging them out of window! +Go to: you are a soldier!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> And you a Fool, and on your own showing +stand in your own light.</p> + +<p><i>Gamba.</i> Nay, neither in my own light, nor as a +Fool. So should myself stand between the sun +and my shadow; whereas I am not myself—these +seven years have I been but the shadow of a +Fool. Yet one must tune up for the Duke</p> + +<p><i>(Strikes his viol and sings.)</i></p> + +<p>"Bird of the South, my Rondinello----"</p> + +<p>Flat-Flat!</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Cesario (calling up to watchman on the Chapel roof).</i> Ho there! What news?</p> + +<p><i>A Voice.</i> Captain, no sail!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Where sits +The wind?</p> + +<p><i>Voice.</i> Nor' west, and north a point!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Perchance +They have down'd sail and creep around the flats.</p> + +<p><i>Gamba (tuning his viol).</i> Flats, flats! the straight horizon, and the life +These seven years laid by rule! The curst canal +Drawn level through the drawn-out level sand +And thistle-tufts that stink as soon as pluck'd! +Give me the hot crag and the dancing heat, +Give me the Abruzzi, and the cushioned thyme— +Brooks at my feet, high glittering snows above. +What were thy music, viol, without a ridge?</p> +<br /> + +<p>[<i>Noise of commotion in the city below.</i></p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Cesario</i>. Watchman, what news?</p> + +<p><i>A Voice</i>. Sir, on the sea no sail!</p> + +<p><i>One of the Crowd</i>. But through the town below a horseman spurs— +I think, Count Lucio! Yes—Count Lucio! +He nears, draws rein, dismounts!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario</i>. Sure, he brings news.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Gamba</i>. I think he brings word the Duke is sick; +his loyal folk have drunk so much of his +health.</p> + +<p>[<i>A murmur has been growing in the town below. It +breaks into cheers as Count Lucio comes springing +up to the terrace.</i></p> + +<p><i>Enter Lucio.</i></p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> News! Where's the Regent? Eh? is Mass not said? +Cesario, news! I rode across the dunes; +A pilot—Nestore—you know the man— +Came panting. Sixteen sail beyond the point! +That's not a galley lost!</p> + +<p><i>Crowd.</i> Long live the Duke!</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Hark to the tocsin! I have carried fire— +Wildfire! Why, where's my sister? I've a mind—</p> +<br /> + +<p>[<i>He strides towards the door of the Chapel; but +pauses at the sound of chanting within, and +comes back to Cesario.</i></p> +<br /> + +<p>Man, are you mute? I say the town's aflame +Below! But here, up here, you stand and stare +Like prisoners loosed to daylight. Rub your eyes, +Believe!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario (musing).</i> It has been long.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> As tapestry +Pricked out by women's needles; point-device +As saints in fitted haloes. Yet they stab, +Those needles. Oh, the devil take their tongues!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Why, what's the matter?</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> P'st! another lie +Against the Countess Fulvia; and the train +Laid to my sister's ear. Cesario, +My sister is a saint—and yet she married: +Therefore should understand ... Would saints, like cobblers, +Stick but to business in this naughty world! +Ah, well! the Duke comes home.</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> And what of that?</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Release!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Release?</p> + +<p><i>Lucio (mocking a chant within the Chapel).</i> From priests and petticoats +Deliver us, Good Lord!</p> + +<p><i>Gamba (strikes a chord on viol). AMEN!</i></p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Count Lucio, +These seven years agone, when the Duke sailed, +You were a child—a pretty, forward boy; +And I a young lieutenant of the Guard, +Burning to serve abroad. But that day, rather, +I clenched my nails over an inward wound: +For that a something manlier than my years— +Look, bearing, what-not—by the Duke not miss'd, +Condemned me to promotion: I must bide +At home, command the Guard! 'Tis an old hurt, +But scalded on my memory.... Well, they sailed! +And from the terrace here, sick with self-pity, +Wrapped in my wrong, forgetful of devoir, +I watch'd them through a mist—turned with a sob— +Uptore my rooted sight— +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 6.25em;">There, there she stood;</span><br /> +Her hand press'd to her girdle, where the babe +Stirred in her body while she gazed—she gazed— +But slowly back controlled her eyes, met mine; +So—with how wan, how small, how brave a smile!— +Reached me her hands to kiss ... +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 8em;">O royal hands!</span><br /> +What burdens since they have borne let Adria tell. +But hear me swear by them, Count Lucio— +Who slights our Regent throws his glove to me.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Why, soothly, she's my sister!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> 'But the court +Is dull? No masques, few banquetings—and prayers +Be long, and youth for pastime leaps the gate?' +Yet if the money husbanded on feasts +Have fed our soldiery against the Turk, +Year after year, and still the State not starved; +Was't not well done? And if, responsible +To God, and lonely, she has leaned on God +Too heavily for our patience, was't not wise?— +And well, though weary?</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> I tell you, she's my sister!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Well, an you will, bridle on that. Lord Lucio, +You named the Countess Fulvia. To my sorrow, +Two hours ago I called on her and laid her +Under arrest.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> The devil! For what?</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> For that +A lady, whose lord keeps summer in the hills +To nurse a gouty foot, should penalize +His dutiful return by shutting doors +And hanging out a ladder made of rope, +Or prove its safety by rehearsing it +Upon a heavier man.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> I'll go to her. +Oh, this is infamous!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Nay, be advised: +No hardship irks the lady, save to sit +At home and feed her sparrows; nor no worse +Annoy than from her balcony to spy +(Should the eye rove) a Switzer of the Guard +At post between her raspberry-canes, to watch +And fright the thrushes from forbidden fruit.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Infamous! infamous!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Enough, my lord: +The Regent!</p> +<br /> + +<p>[<i>Doors of the Chapel open. The organ sounds, +with voices of choir chanting the recessional. +The Court enters from Mass, attending the +Regent Ottilia and her son Tonino. She wears +a crown and heavy dalmatic. Her brother +Lucio, controlling himself with an effort, kisses +her hand and conducts her to the marble bench, +which serves for her Chair of State. She bows, +receiving the homage of the crowd; but, after +seating herself, appears for a few moments unconscious +of her surroundings. Then, as her +rosary slips from her fingers and falls heavily +at her feet, she speaks.</i></p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> So slips the chain linking this world with Heaven, +And drops me back to earth: so slips the chain +That hangs my spirit to the Redeemer's cross +Above pollution in the pure swept air +Whereunder frets this hive: so slips the chain— +<i>(She starts up)</i>—God! the dear sound! Was that his anchor dropped? +Speak to the watchman, one! Call to the watch! +What news?</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Aloft! What news?</p> + +<p><i>Voice above.</i> No sail as yet!</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Ah, pardon, sirs! My ears are strung to-day, +And play false airs invented by the wind. +Methought a hawse-pipe rattled ...</p> + +<p><i>Gamba (chants to his viol). Shepherds, see— +Lo! What a mariner love hath made me!</i></p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> What chants the Fool?</p> + +<p><i>Gamba.</i> Madonna, 'tis a trifle +Made by a silly poet on wives that stand +All night at windows listening the surf— +<i>Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no!</i></p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Peace, lively! Madam, there is news—brave news! +I'm from the watch-house. There the pilots tell +Of sixteen sail to the southward! Sixteen sail, +And nearing fast!</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Praise God! dear Lucio!</p> +<br /> + +<p>[<i>She has seated herself again. She takes Lucio's +hand and speaks, petting it.</i></p> +<br /> + +<p>What? Glowing with my happiness? That's like you. +But for yourself the hour, too, holds release.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio (between sullenness and shame, with a glance at +Cesario).</i> "Release?"</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> You will forgive? I have great need +To be forgiven: sadly I have been slack +In guardianship, and by so much betrayed +My promise to our mother's passing soul. +Myself in cares immersed, I left the child +Among his toys—and turn to find him man— +But yet so much a boy that boyhood can +<i>(Wistfully)</i> Laugh in his honest eyes? Forgive me, Lucio! +Tell me, whate'er have slackened, there has slipped +No knot of love. To-morrow we'll make sport, +Be playmates and invent new games, and old— +Wreath flowers for crowns—</p> +<br /> + +<p>[<i>He drags his hand away. She gazes at him +wistfully, and turns to the Captain of the +Guard.</i></p> + +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 7.5em;">Cesario,</span><br /> +What are the suits?</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> They are but three to-day, +Madonna. First, a scoundrel here in irons +For having struck the Guard.</p> + +<p><i>Regent (eying the culprit).</i> His name, I think, +Is Donatello Crocco. Hey? You improve, +Good man. The last time 'twas your wife you basted. +At this rate, in another year or two +You'll bang the Turk. Do you confess the assault?</p> + +<p><i>Prisoner.</i> I do.</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Upon a promise we dismiss you. +Your tavern, as it comes into our mind, +Is the 'Three Cups.' So many, and no more, +You'll drink to-day—have we your word? Three cups, +And each a <i>Viva</i> for the Duke's return.</p> + +<p><i>Prisoner.</i> Your Highness, I'll not take it at the price +Of my good manners. I'm a gallant man: +And who in Adria calls. 'Three cheers for the Duke!' +But adds a fourth for the Duchess? Lady, nay; +Grant me that fourth, or back I go to the cells!</p> +<br /> + +<p>[<i>The Regent laughs and nods to the Guard to release +him.</i></p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> What next?</p> + +<p><i>An Old Woman (very rapidly).</i> Your Highness will not know me—Zia +Agnese, Giovannucci's wife that was; +And feed a two-three cows, as a widow may, +On the marshes where the grass is salt and sweet +As your Highness knows—and always true to pail +Until this Nicolo—</p> + +<p><i>Nicolo.</i> Lies! lies, your Highness!</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman.</i> Having a quarrel, puts the evil eye +On Serafina. She's my best of cows, +In stall with calf but ten days weaned.</p> + +<p><i>Nicolo.</i> Lies! lies!</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman.</i> I would your Highness saw her! When that thief +Hangs upon Lazarus' bosom, he'll be bidding +A ducat for each drop of milk he's cost me, +To cool his tongue.</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Ay—ay, the cow is sick, +I think; and mind me, being country-bred, +Of a cure for such: which is, to buy a comb +And comb the sufferer's tail at feeding-time. +If Zia Agnese do but this, she'll counter +The Evil Eye, and maybe with her own +Detect who thieves her Serafina's hay.</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman.</i> God bless your Highness!</p> + +<p><i>Nicolo.</i> God bless your Highness!</p> + +<p><i>Regent (taking up a fresh suit).</i>Why, what's here? "<i>Costanza, +Wife of Giuseppe Boni, citeth him +And sueth to live separate, for neglect +And divers beatings, as to wit----</i>" H'm, h'm— +<i>Likewise to keep the child Geronimo, +Begotten of his body.</i> You defend +The suit, Giuseppe?</p> + +<p><i>A Young Peasant (shrugs his shoulders).</i> As the woman will! +I'll not deny I beat her.</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> But neglect! +How came you to neglect her? Look on her— +The handsome, frowsy slut, that, by appearance, +Hath never washed her body since she wed. +A beating we might pass. But how neglect +To take her by the neck unto the pump +And hold her till her wet and furious face +Were once again worth kissing? Well—well—well! +Neglect is proven. She shall have deserts: +<i>(To a Clerk)</i> But—write, "Defendant keeps his lawful child."</p> + +<p><i>Young Peasant.</i> My lady—</p> + +<p><i>Wife.</i> Nay, my lady—</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Eh? What's this?</p> + +<p><i>Wife.</i> The poor <i>bambino</i>! Nay, 'twas not the suit! +How should Giuseppe, being a fool, a man—</p> + +<p><i>Young Peasant.</i> Aye, aye: that's sense. I love him: still, you see—</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> An if my judgment suit you not, go home, +The pair. <i>(As they are going she calls the woman back.)</i> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Costanza! hath your husband erred</span><br /> +With other woman?</p> + +<p><i>Young Peasant</i>. Never!</p> + +<p><i>Wife</i>. I'll not charge him +With that.</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. But, yes, you may. This man hath held +Another woman to his breast.</p> + +<p><i>Wife</i>. Her name? +That I may tear her eyes!</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. Her name's Costanza. +The same Costanza that, with body washed, +With ribbon in her hair, light in her eyes, +Arrayed a cottage to allure his heart. +Go home, poor fools, and find her!... +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Heigh! No others? [<i>Heaves a sigh.</i></span><br /> +Captain, dismiss the Guard. The watch, aloft— +Set him elsewhere. We would not be o'erlooked. +You only, Lucio—you, Lucetta—stay; +You for a while, Cesario.</p> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 4em;">[<i>Exeunt Courtiers, Guard, Crowd, etc.</i></span><br /> + +<p>Heigh! that's over— +The last Court of the Regent; and the books +Accounts of stewardship, my seven years all, +Closed here for audit. +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">Nay, there's one thing more—</span><br /> +Brother, erewhile I spoke you sisterly, +You turned away, and still you bite your lip: +Signs that may short my preface. It concerns +The Countess Fulvia.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio</i>. Ha!</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. Go, bring her, Captain.</p> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 8.75em;">[<i>Exit Cesario</i>.</span><br /> + +<p>List to me, Lucio: listen, brother dear, +First playmate-child, tending whose innocence +Myself learned motherhood. Shall I deny +Youth to be loved and follow after love? +There is a love breaks like a morning beam +On the husht novice kneeling by his arms; +And worse there is, whose kisses strangle love, +Whose feet take hold of hell. My Lucio, +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Follow not that!</span> +</p> +<p><i>Lucio</i>. Why, who—who hath maligned +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">The Countess?</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i> Not maligned. Lucetta, here—</p> + +<p><i>Lucio</i>. Lucetta! Curse Lucetta and her tongue! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Am I a child, to be nagged by waiting-maids?</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Regent</i>. No, but a man, and shall weigh evidence.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio</i>. But I'll not hear it! If her viper tongue +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Can kill, why kill it must. But send me a man,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And I will smite his mouth—ay, slit his tongue—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">That dares defame the Countess!</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Regent</i>. Stay: she comes.</p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">[<i>Enter the Countess Fulvia, Cesario attending.</i></span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Madam, the reason wherefore you are summoned</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">No doubt you guess, from a rude earlier call</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Our Captain paid you. Certain practices,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Which you may force me name, are charged upon</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">you</span><br /> +On testimony you may force me call +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And may with freedom question.</span> +</p> +<p><i>Fulvia</i>. I'll not question: +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">No, nor I will not answer.</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Lucio</i>. Then I'll answer!' +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">For me, for all, she is innocent!</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Regent</i>. For you? +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">We'll hope it: but 'for all' 's more wide an oath</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Than you can swear, sir. I'll not bandy you</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Words nor debate. Myself the ladder saw;</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Lucetta, here, the ladder and the man.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;"><i>What</i> man she will not say. Cesario</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Has tracked his footprint on her garden plots.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Must we say more?</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Fulvia</i>. No need. Her fingering mind +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Is a close cupboard turning all things rancid.</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Lucio</i>. Yea, for such wry-necks all the world's a lawn +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">To peek and peer and pounce a sinful worm;</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">The fatter, the more luscious.</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Regent. </i> Lucio, +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">This woman nought gainsays.</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Fulvia (fiercely).</i> As why should I? +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">I'll question not, nor answer. 'Neath your brow</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">My sentence hunches, crawls, like cat to spring.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Pah! there's no prude will match your virtuous wife</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">You'd banish me?</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Regent.</i> I do. Cesario, +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">See to it the City gate shuts not to-night.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And she this side.</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Fulvia (laughs recklessly).</i> To-night? To-night's your own. +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Most modest woman! Duchess, there's a well</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">By the road, some seven miles beyond the town.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">There, 'neath the stars, I'll dip a hand and drink</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">To the good Duke's disport. But have a care!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">That cup's not yet to lip.</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent. </i> Captain, remove her. +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Lucio, remain.</span> +</p> + +<p><i>[Exeunt the Countess Fulvia, Cesario following]</i></p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> I'll not remain—When ice +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Sits judge of fire, what justice shall be done?</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Sister, there be your books—peruse them. There</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">The sea-line--bide you so with back to it.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">While the cold inward heat of cruelty</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Warms what was once your heart, now crusted o'er</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">With duty and slimed with poisonous drip of tongues.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">God help the Duke, if what he left he'd find!</span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 11.75em;"><i>[Exit Lucio]</i></span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Is't so, I wonder? Go, Lucetta, fetch +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">My glass, if haply I may tell.</span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 11.25em;"><i>[Exit Lucetta.]</i></span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 11.5em;">Is't so?</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And have these years enforced, encrusted me</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">To something monstrous, neither woman nor man?</span><br /> +My lord, my lord! too heavy was the load +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">You laid! Yet I'll not blame you: for myself</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Ruled the straight path the long account correct</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">As in these books, my ledgers....</span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">[<i>While she turns the pages, Gamba the Fool creeps</i></span><i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">in and hoists himself on the balustrade. He</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">tries his viol, and sings</span></i><span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">.</span> +</p> + +<p>SONG: <i>Gamba</i>.</p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Bird of the South, my Rondinello—</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. Hey? That Song!</p> + +<p><i>Gamba</i>. Hie to me, fly to me, steel-blue mate! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Under my breast-knot flutters thy fellow;</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Here can I rest not, and thou so late.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Home, to me, home!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">'Love, love, I come!'</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">—Dear one, I wait!</span><br /> +<i>Quanno nacesti tu, nacqui pur io: +La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio</i>! +You know the song, madonna?</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. Ay, fool. Sit +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Here at my feet, sing on.</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Gamba (sings).</i></p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Bird of the South, my Rondinello</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Under thy wing my heart hath lain</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Till the rain falling on last leaves yellow</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Drumm'd to thee, calling southward again.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Home, to me, home!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">'Love, love, I come!'</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Ah, love, the pain!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;"><i>Addio, addio! ed un' altra volt' addio!</i></span><i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio!</span><br /> +(Pause).</i> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">A foolish rustic thing the shepherd wives</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">In our Abruzzi croon by winter fires,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Of their husbands in the plains.</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. Gamba!</p> + +<p><i>Gamba</i>. Madonna?</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. I'd make thee my confessor. Mindest thou, +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">By Villalago, where from Sanno's lake</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">The stream, our Tasso, hurls it down the glen?</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">One noon, with Lucio—ever in those days</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">With Lucio—on a rock within the spray,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">I wove a ferny garland, while the boy</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Roamed, but returned in triumph, having trapped</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">A bee in a bell-flower—held it to my ear,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Laughing, dissembling that he feared to loose</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">The hairy thief. So laughed we—and were still,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">As deep in Vallescura wound a horn,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And up the pathway 'neath the dappling bough</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Came riding—flecked with sunshine, man and horse,—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">My lord, my lover; and that song, that song</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Upon his lips....</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Voice of Watchman</i>. Sail ho! a sail! a sail!</p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>[Murmur of populace below. It grows and swells to</i></span><i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">a roar as enter hurriedly courtiers, guards, and</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">others: Cesario; Lucetta with mirror.</span></i><span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">]</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Lucetta</i>. My lady! O my lady!—</p> + +<p><i>Cesario</i>. See, they near! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Galley on galley—look, there, by the point!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. O, could my heart keep tally with the surge +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">That here comes crowding!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Lucetta</i>. Joy, my lady! Joy!</p> + +<p><i>All</i>. Joy! Joy, my lady!</p> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>[They press flowers on her. A pause, while they</i></span><i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">watch. On the canal the galleys come into</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">sight. They near: and as the oars rise and</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">fall, the rowers' chorus is borne from the distance.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">It is the Rondinello song</span></i><br /> + +<p><i>Chorus in Distance. La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio!</i></p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. Thanks, my good, good friends! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And deem it not discourteous if alone</span><br /> +I'd tune my heart to bliss. +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 7em;">My glass, Lucetta!</span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>[Takes mirror.]</i></span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Some thoughts there are—some thoughts----</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Courtiers</i>. God save you, madam!</p> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>[They go out, leaving the Regent alone.</i>]</span><br /> + +<p><i>Regent (she loosens the clasp of her robe).</i> Some thoughts +—some thoughts— +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 5em;">Fall from me, envious robe!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Rest there, my crown—thou more than leaden ache!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Ah!—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">God! What a mountain drops! I float—I am lifted</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Like thistledown on nothing. Back, my crown—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Weight me to earth! Nay, nay, thy rim shall bite</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">No more upon this forehead ... Where's my glass?</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">O mirror, mirror, hath it bit so deep?</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">My love is coming, hark! O, say not grey,</span><br /> +Sweet mirror! Tell, what time to cure it now? +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And he so near, so near!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 5em;">How shall I meet him?</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Why how but as the river leaps to sea,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Steel to its magnet, child to mother's arms?</span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">[<i>She catches up flowers from the baskets left by the</i></span><i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">courtiers, and decks herself mildly.</span></i><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Flowers for my hair, flowers at the breast! Sweet flowers,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">He'll crush you 'gainst his corslet. He has arms</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Like bands of iron for clasping, has my love.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">He'll hurt, he'll hurt ... But oh, sweet flowers, to lie</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And feel you helpless while he grips and bruises</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Your weak protesting breasts! You'll die in bliss,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Panting your fragrance out.--</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 6em;">Wh'st! Hush, poor fool!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">I have unlearned love's very alphabet.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Men like us coy, demure ... Then I'll coquet</span><br /> +And play Madam Disdain—but not to-day. +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">To-morrow I'll be shrewish, shy, perverse,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Exacting, cold--all April in my moods:</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">We'll walk the forest, and I'll slip from him,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Hide me like Dryad 'mid the oaks, and mark</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">His hot dark face pursuing; or I'll couch</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">In covert green, and hold my breath to hear</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">His blundering foot go by; then up I'll leap,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And run—and he'll run after. O this lightness!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">I'll draw him like a fairy, dance and double—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Yet not so fast but he shall overtake</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">At length, and catch me panting. O, I charge you,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Wake not my love beneath the forest bough</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Where we lie dreaming!</span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;"><i>[Fanfare of trumpets in the distance.]</i></span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 5.25em;">Trumpets, hark! and drums!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">They have landed! From the quay they march!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Flowers! flowers!</span><br /> +They are near ... I see him!... Carlo! lord and love! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">He looks—waves—O 'tis he! O foolish heart!—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">I had feared he'd ta'en a wound.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 6.75em;">What is't they shout?</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Eh? 'Victory!'—yes, yes. He's browner, thinner;</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And the dear eyes, how gaunt!... Yes</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">'Victory!'</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">'Victory!' ... lord, and love!,..</span> +</p> + +<p><i>[The shouts of acclamation are heard now close +under the terrace. Spears and banners are +seen trooping past. Beside herself, she throws +flowers to them, laughing, weeping the while. +Then, running to the Chapel door, she +prostrates herself before the image of the +Virgin that crowns its archway.]</i></p> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 9em;">O Mary, Mother!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Thou, in whose breast all women's thoughts have moved,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">All woman's passions heaved. Lo! I adore!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Sweet Mother, hold my hands, rejoice with me:</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">My bridegroom cometh!</span><br /> + +<p>[<i>During this invocation the Countess Fulvia has +crept in, a stiletto in her hand. She leans +over the Regent and stabs her twice in the +breast.]</i></p> + +<p><i>Fulvia.</i> Then with that!—and that! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Go meet him!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i> (<i>turns, looks up, and falls on her face</i>). +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Oh! I am slain!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Fulvia.</i> And I am worse! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">But there's my flower, my red flower, on your breast.—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Go, meet your lord and show it!</span> +</p> + +<p>[<i>She passes down the steps as Lucetta runs in.]</i></p> + +<p><i>Lucetta.</i> Madam! Madam! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">The Duke is at the gate—Madam!—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Christ! she is murdered! Murder! Murder!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Fie, +Lucetta! peace! What word to greet the Duke +For his home-coming! Lift me ... Quick, my robe— +My Crown! Call no one. O, but hasten!</p> + +<p><i>Lucetta</i> (<i>helpless, wringing her hands</i>). Madam!</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> I need your strength, and must I steady you? +Lucetta, years ago you disarrayed me +Upon my bridal night. I would you'd whisper +The rogueries your tongue invented then. +I have few moments, girl ... I'd have them wanton. +Make jest this mantle hides the maid I was. +I'll have no priest, no doctor—Fetch Tonino! +I must present his son— +[<i>Lucetta runs out.</i> +All's acted quick: +Bride-bed, conception, birth--and death! But he +Shall sum it in one moment death not takes ... +What noise of trumpets!... Is the wound not covered?</p> + +<p>[<i>She wraps herself carefully in her mantle as the +courtiers pour in. The child Tonino runs to +her and stands by her side. Lucio, Cesario, +all the Court, group themselves round her as +the Duke enters. He rushes in eagerly; but +she sets her teeth on her anguish, and receives +him with a low reverence.</i></p> + +<p>Welcome my lord!</p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> Ottilia!</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Good my lord, +Welcome! This day is bright restores you to +Your loyal Duchy.</p> + +<p>Duke (<i>impatient</i>). Wife! Ottilia!</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i> (<i>she lifts a hand to keep him at distance</i>). +There must be forms, my lord—some forms! Cesario, +Render the Duke his sceptre. As bar to socket, +When the gate closes on a town secure, +So locks this rod back to his manly clutch— +Cry all, 'Long live the Duke!'</p> + +<p><i>All.</i> Long live the Duke!</p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> Wife, make an end with forms!</p> + +<p><i>Lucio</i> (<i>to Cesario</i>). And so say I! +A man would think my sister had no blood +In her body.</p> + +<p><i>Cesario</i> (<i>watching the Regent</i>). Peace, man: something +there's amiss.</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Yet here is he that sceptre shall inherit. +Lucetta, lead his first-born to the Duke. +His first-born!—Nay but look on him how straight +Of limb, how set and shoulder-square, tho' slender! +He'll sit a horse, in time, and toss a lance +Even with his father.</p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> There's my blessing, boy! +But stand aside. Look in my face, Ottilia— +Hearken me, all! One thing these seven years +My life hath lacked, which wanting, all your cannon, +Your banners, <i>vivas</i>, bells that rock the roofs, +Throng'd windows, craning faces—all—all—all +Were phantasms, were noise.—</p> + +<p><i>Lucio</i> (<i>exclaims</i>). Why look, here's blood! +Here, on the boy's hand!</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Ay! a scratch, no worse, +Here, when I pinned my robe.</p> + +<p><i>Duke</i> (<i>continuing</i>). Nay, friends, this moment +My Duchy her dear hand restores to me +To me's a dream. More buoyant would I tread +Dumb street, deserted square, climb ruin'd wall, +Where in a heap beneath a broken flag +Lay Adria.— +So that amid the ruins stood my love +And stretched her hands so faintly—stretched her hands +So faintly. See! She's mine! She lifts them—</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i> (<i>totters and falls into his arms with a tired, happy +laugh, which ends in a cry as his arms enfold her</i>). Ah!</p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 11.25em;">[<i>She faints.</i></span> +</p> + +<p><i>Duke</i>. (<i>after a moment, releasing her a little</i>). What's +here? Ottilia!</p> + +<p><i>Lucetta.</i> My mistress swoons!</p> + +<p><i>A Courtier.</i> 'Tis happiness—</p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> Fetch water!</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Nay this blood— +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Came of no scratch!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Lucetta.</i> Loosen her bodice—</p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> Blood? +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Why blood? Where's blood?</span> +</p> + +<p>(<i>Stares as the mantle is imclasped and falls open</i>). +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 9.25em;">Ah, my God!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Lucetta.</i> Murder! murder! +The Countess Fulvia—</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Speak!</p> + +<p><i>Lucetta.</i> There—while she knelt— +Stabbed her, and fled.</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Which way?</p> + +<p>[<i>Lucetta points to the stairs. He dashes off in +pursuit.</i></p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> All-seeing God! +Where were thine eyes, or else thy justice? Dead? +O, never dead!</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Ay, Duke, push God aside, +As I push thee. I have the better right: +I killed her—I. O never pass, sweet soul, +Till thou hast drunk a shudder of this wretch, +Thy brother, playmate, murderer!</p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> Wine! bring wine—</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i> (<i>as the wine is brought and revives her</i>). +Flower, he will crush thee—but the bliss, the bliss! +I swim in bliss. What ... Lucio? Where's my lord? +Dear, bring him: he was here awhile and held me. +Say he must hold, or the light air will lift +And bear me quite away.</p> + +<p>[<i>Re-enter Cesario. In one hand he carries his +sword, in the other a dagger.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Cesario! +What! Is that devil escaped? To think—to think +I drank her kisses!—What? Where is she?</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Dead. +I raised the cry: the people pointed after; +Ran with me, ravening. Just this side the bridge +She heard our howl and turned—drew back the dagger +Red with our lady's blood, then drove it home +Clean to her own black heart.</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> God pardon her! +I would what blood of mine clung to the blade +Might mix with hers and sweeten it for mercy.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Will you forgive her? Then forgive not me!</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Dear Lucio!—You'll not pluck away your hand +This time? Hush! Where's Cesario?... Friend, farewell. +Where lies the body?</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Sooth, madonna, I flung it +To the river's will, to roll it down to sea +Or cast on muddy bar, for dogs to gnaw.</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> The river? Ah! How strong the river rolls! +Hold me, my lord—</p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> Love, love, I hold you</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i>—Ay! +The child, too—You will hold the child?... +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">This roar</span><br /> +Deafens but will not drown us.</p> + +<p>[<i>Within the Chapel the choir is chanting a dirge. +Gamba goes and closes the door on the sound: +then creeps to the foot of the couch. The +dying woman gently motions aside the cross +a priest is holding to her, and looks up at her +husband.</i></p> + +<p>[<i>Below the terrace a voice is heard singing the +Rondinello song.</i></p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Look! beyond</span><br /> +Be waters where no galley moves with oar, +So wide, so waveless,—and, between the woods, +Meadows—O land me there!... Hark, my lord's voice +Singing in Vallescura! Soft my, love, +I am so tired—so tired! Love, let me play! +[<i>Dies.</i></p> + +<p>[<i>The Courtiers lift the body in silence and bear it +to the Chapel, the Duke and his train following. +The doors close on them. On the stage are +left only Cesario, standing by the balustrade; +and Gamba, who has seated himself with his +viol and touches it, as still the voice sings +below—</i></p> + +<p>Addio, Addio! ed un'altra volt'addio! +La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio!</p> + +<p>[<i>On the last note a string of the viol cracks, and with +a cry the Fool flings himself, heart-broken, on +the empty couch. Cesario steps forward and +stands over him, touching his shoulder gently.</i></p> + +<p><strong>CURTAIN</strong>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + <div align="center"><a name="poems"></a></div> + <h2 align="center">POEMS</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<a name="exmoor"></a><h2>EXMOOR VERSES</h2> + +<a name="vashti"></a><p><strong>I. VASHTI'S SONG</strong></p> +<br /> + +<p>Over the rim of the Moor,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And under the starry sky,</span><br /><br /> +Two men came to my door<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And rested them thereby.</span> +</p> +<p> +Beneath the bough and the star,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">In a whispering foreign tongue,</span><br /><br /> +They talked of a land afar<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And the merry days so young!</span> +</p> +<p> +Beneath the dawn and the bough<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">I heard them arise and go:</span><br /><br /> +And my heart it is aching now<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">For the more it will never know.</span> +</p> +<p> +Why did they two depart<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Before I could understand?</span><br /><br /> +Where lies that land, O my heart?<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">—O my heart, where lies that land?</span> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="saturn"></a><h2>II. SATURN</h2> +<p>From my farm, from hèr farm<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Furtively we came.</span><br /><br /> +In either home a hearth was warm:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">We nursed a hungrier flame.</span> +</p> +<p> +Our feet were foul with mire,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Our faces blind with mist;</span><br /><br /> +But all the night was naked fire<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">About us where we kiss'd.</span> +</p> +<p> +To her farm, to my farm,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Loathing we returned;</span><br /><br /> +Pale beneath a gallow's arm<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The planet Saturn burned.</span> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="dereliction"></a><h2>III. DERELICTION</h2> +<p>O'er the tears that we shed, dear<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The bitter vines twist,</span><br /><br /> +And the hawk and the red deer<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">They keep where we kiss'd:</span><br /><br /> +All broken lies the shieling<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That sheltered from rain,</span><br /><br /> +With a star to pierce the ceiling,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And the dawn an empty pane.</span> +</p> +<p> +Thro' the mist, up the moorway,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Fade hunters and pack;</span><br /><br /> +From the ridge to thy doorway<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Happy voices float back ...</span><br /><br /> +O, between the threads o' mist, love,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Reach your hands from the house.</span><br /><br /> +Only mind that we kiss'd, love,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And forget the broken vows!</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="folksong"></a><h2>TWO FOLK SONGS</h2><br /> +<br /> +<a name="soldier"></a><p>I. THE SOLDIER</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>(<i>Roumanian</i>)</p> +<p><i>When winter trees bestrew the path,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Still to the twig a leaf or twain</span><br /><br /> +Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">But that foreknown forlorner pain—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">To fall when green leaves come again.</span></i> +</p> +<p>I watch'd him sleep by the furrow—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The first that fell in the fight.</span><br /><br /> +His grave they would dig to-morrow:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The battle called them to-night.</span> +</p> +<p> +They bore him aside to the trees, there,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">By his undigg'd grave content</span><br /><br /> +To lie on his back at ease there,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And hark how the battle went.</span> +</p> +<p> +The battle went by the village,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And back through the night were borne</span><br /><br /> +Far cries of murder and pillage,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">With smoke from the standing corn.</span> +</p> +<p> +But when they came on the morrow,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">They talk'd not over their task,</span><br /><br /> +As he listen'd there by the furrow;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">For the dead mouth could not ask—</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>How went the battle, my brothers?</i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">But that he will never know:</span><br /><br /> +For his mouth the red earth smothers<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">As they shoulder their spades and go.</span> +</p> +<p> +Yet he cannot sleep thereunder,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">But ever must toss and turn.</span><br /><br /> +<i>How went the battle, I wonder?</i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">—And that he will never learn!</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>When winter trees bestrew the path,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Still to the twig a leaf or twain</span><br /><br /> +Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">But that foreknown, forlorner pain—</span><br /><br /> +To fall when green leaves come again!</i></p><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="marine"></a><h2>II. THE MARINE</h2><br /> +<br /> +<p>(<i>Poitevin</i>)</p> +<p>The bold Marine comes back from war,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +The bold Marine comes back from war,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +With a raggety coat and a worn-out shoe.<br /> +"Now, poor Marine, say, whence come you,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">All so kind?"</span> +</p> +<p> +I travel back from the war, madame,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +I travel back from the war, madame,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +For a glass of wine and a bowl of whey,<br /> +'Tis I will sing you a ballad gay,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">All so kind.</span> +</p> +<p> +The bold Marine he sips his whey,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +He sips and he sings his ballad gay,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +But the dame she turns toward the wall,<br /> +To wipe her tears that fall and fall,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">All so kind.</span> +</p> +<p> +What aileth you at my song, madame,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind?</span><br /><br /> +I hope that I sing no wrong, madame,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind?</span> +</p> +<p> +Or grieves it you a beggar should dine<br /> +On a bowl of whey and the good white wine,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">All so kind?</span> +</p> +<p> +It ails me not at your ballad gay,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +It ails me not for the wine and whey,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span> +</p> +<p> +But it ails me sore for the voice and eyes<br /> +Of a good man long in Paradise.—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Ah, so kind!</span> +</p> +<p> +You have fair children five, madame,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +You have fair children five, madame,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span> +</p> +<p> +Your good man left you children three;<br /> +Whence came these twain for company,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">All so kind?</span> +</p> +<p> +"A letter came from the war, Marine,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +A letter came from the war, Marine,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +A while I wept for the good man dead,<br /> +But another good man in a while I wed,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">All so kind."</span> +</p> +<p> +The bold Marine he drained his glass,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +The bold Marine he drained his glass,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind.</span><br /><br /> +He said not a word, though the tears they flowed,<br /> +But back to his regiment took the road,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">All so kind.</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="maryleslie"></a><h2>MARY LESLIE</h2> +<p><i>Before Vittoria, June</i> 20, 1813</p> +<p>O Mary Leslie, blithe and shrill<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The bugles blew for Spain:</span><br /><br /> +And you below the Castle Hill<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Stood in the crowd your lane.</span><br /><br /> +Then hearts were wild to watch us pass,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Yet laith to let us go!</span><br /><br /> +While mine said, "Fare-ye-well, my lass!"<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And yours, "God keep my Jo!"</span> +</p> +<p> +Here by the bivouac fire, above<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">These fields of savage play,</span><br /><br /> +I'll lift my love to meet thy love<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Twa thousand miles away,</span> +</p> +<p> +Where yonder, yonder by the stars,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Nightlong there rins a burn,</span><br /><br /> +And maids with lovers at the wars<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">May list their wraiths' return.</span> +</p> +<p> +More careless yet my spirit grows<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Of fame, more sick of blood:</span><br /><br /> +But I can think of Badajoz,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And yet that God is good.</span><br /><br /> +Beyond the siege, beyond the stour,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Beyond the sack of towns,</span><br /><br /> +I reach to pluck ae lily-floo'r<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Where leaders press for crowns.</span> +</p> +<p> +O Mary! lily! bow'd and wet<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">With mair than mornin's rain!</span><br /><br /> +The bugles up the Lawnmarket<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Shall sound us home again.</span> +</p> +<p> +Then fare-ye-well, these foreign lands,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And be damn'd their bitter drouth.</span><br /><br /> +With your dear face between my hands<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And the cup held to my mouth,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 6.75em;">My love,</span><br /><br /> +It's clean cup to my mouth!</p> +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="jenslove"></a><h2>JENIFER'S LOVE</h2> +<p>Small is my secret--let it pass—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Small in your life the share I had,</span><br /><br /> +Who sat beside you in the class,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Awed by the bright superior lad:</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Whom yet with hot and eager face</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">I prompted when he missed his place.</span> +</p> +<p> +For you the call came swift and soon:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">But sometimes in your holidays</span><br /><br /> +You meet me trudging home at noon<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">To dinner through the dusty ways,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And recognized, and with a nod</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Passed on, but never guessed—thank God!</span> +</p> +<p> +Truly our ways were separate.<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">I bent myself to hoe and drill,</span> +</p> +<p> +Yea, with an honest man to mate,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Fulfilling God Almighty's will;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And bore him children. But my prayers</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Were yours—and, only after, theirs.</span> +</p> +<p> +While you—still loftier, more remote,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">You sprang from stair to stair of fame,</span><br /><br /> +And you've a riband on your coat,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And you've a title to your name;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">But have you yet a star to shine</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Above your bed, as I o'er mine?</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="twoduets"></a><h2>TWO DUETS</h2> +<p><i>From "Arion," an unpublished Masque</i></p><br /> +<br /> +<p>I</p> +<p><i>He.</i> Aglai-a! Aglai-a!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Sweet, awaken and be glad.</span><br /><br /> +<i>She.</i> Who is this that calls Aglaia?<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Is it thou, my dearest lad?</span><br /><br /> +<i>He.</i> 'Tis Arion, 'tis Arion,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Who calls thee from sleep—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">From slumber who bids thee</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">To follow and number</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">His kids and his sheep.</span><br /><br /> +<i>She.</i> Nay, leave to entreat me!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">If mother should spy on</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Us twain, she would beat me.</span><br /><br /> +<i>He.</i> Then come, my love, come!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">And hide with Arion</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Where green woods are dumb!</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>She.</i> Ar-i-on! Ar-i-on!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Closer, list! I am afraid!</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>He.</i> Whisper, then, thy love Arion,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">From thy window, lily maid.</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>She.</i> Yet Aglaia, yet Aglaia<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Hath heard them debate</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Of wooing repenting—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">"Who trust to undoing,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Lament them too late."</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>He.</i> Nay, nay, when I woo thee,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Thy mother might spy on</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">All harm I shall do thee.</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>She.</i> I come, then—I come!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">To follow Arion</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Where green woods be dumb.</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="song"></a><h2>SONG</h2> +<p><span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Sparrow of Love, so sharp to peck,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Arrow of Love—I bare my neck</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Down to the bosom. See, no fleck</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Of blood! I have never a wound; I go</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Forth to the greenwood. Yet, heigh-ho!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">What 'neath my girdle flutters so?</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">'Tis not a bird, and yet hath wings,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">'Tis not an arrow, yet it stings;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">While in the wound it nests and sings—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 7.75em;">Heigh-ho!</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>He.</i> Of Arion, of Arion<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">That wound thou shalt learn;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">What nothings 'tis made of,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">And soft pretty soothings</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">In shade of the fern.</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>She.</i> When maids have a mind to,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Man's word they rely on,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Old warning are blind to--</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">I come, then—I come</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">To walk with Arion</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Where green woods are dumb!</span> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 7em;">II</span> +<br /> +</p><p><i>He.</i> Dear my love, and O my love,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">And O my love so lately!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Did we wander yonder grove</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">And sit awhile sedately?</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">For either you did there conclude</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">To do at length as I did,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Or passion's fashion's turn'd a prude,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">And troth's an oath derided.</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>She.</i> Yea, my love—and nay, my love—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">And ask me not to tell, love,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">While I delay'd an idle day</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">What 'twixt us there befell, love.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Yet either I did sit beside</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">And do at length as you did,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Or my delight is lightly by</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">An idle lie deluded!</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="statutear"></a><h2>THE STATUES AND THE TEAR</h2> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">All night a fountain pleads,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Telling her beads,</span><br /><br /> +Her tinkling beads monotonous 'neath the moon;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And where she springs atween,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Two statues lean—</span><br /><br /> +Two Kings, their marble beards with moonlight<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">strewn.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Till hate had frozen speech,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Each hated each,</span><br /><br /> +Hated and died, and went unto his place:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And still inveterate</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">They lean and hate</span><br /><br /> +With glare of stone implacable, face to face.<br /> +<br /> +One, who bade set them here<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">In stone austere,</span><br /><br /> +To both was dear, and did not guess at all:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Yet with her new-wed lord</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Walking the sward</span><br /><br /> +Paused, and for two dead friends a tear let fall.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">She turn'd and went her way.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Yet in the spray</span><br /><br /> +The shining tear attempts, but cannot lie.<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Night-long the fountain drips,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">But even slips</span><br /><br /> +Untold that one bead of her rosary:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">While they, who know it would</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Lie if it could,</span><br /><br /> +Lean on and hate, watching it, eye to eye.</p> +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<a name="nuptial"></a><h2>NUPTIAL NIGHT</h2> +<p>Hush! and again the chatter of the starling<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Athwart the lawn!</span><br /><br /> +Lean your head close and closer. O my darling!—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">It is the dawn.</span><br /><br /> +Dawn in the dusk of her dream,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Dream in the hush of her bosom, unclose!</span><br /><br /> +Bathed in the eye-bright beam,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Blush to her cheek, be a blossom, a rose!</span> +</p> +<p> +Go, nuptial night! the floor of Ocean tressing<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">With moon and star;</span><br /><br /> +With benediction go and breathe thy blessing<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">On coasts afar.</span> +</p> +<p> +Hark! the theorbos thrum<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">O'er the arch'd wave that in white smother booms</span><br /><br /> +"Mother of Mystery, come!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Fain for thee wait other brides, other grooms!"</span> +</p> +<p> +Go, nuptial night, my breast of hers bereaving!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Yet, O, tread soft!</span><br /><br /> +Grow day, blithe day, the mountain shoulder heaving<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">More gold aloft!</span><br /><br /> +Gold, rose, bird of the dawn,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">All to her balcony gather unseen—</span><br /><br /> +Thrill through the curtain drawn,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Bless her, bedeck her, and bathe her, my Queen!</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="hesperus"></a><h2>HESPERUS</h2> +<p>Down in the street the last late hansoms go<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Still westward, but with backward eyes of red</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">The harlot shuffles to her lonely bed;</span><br /><br /> +The tall policeman pauses but to throw<br /> +A flash into the empty portico;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Then he too passes, and his lonely tread</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Links all the long-drawn gas-lights on a thread</span><br /><br /> +And ties them to one planet swinging low.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>O Hesperus! O happy star! to bend<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">O'er Helen's bosom in the trancèd west—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">To watch the hours heave by upon her breast</span><br /><br /> +And at her parted lip for dreams attend:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">If dawn defraud thee, how shall I be deem'd.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Who house within that bosom, and am dreamed?</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="royalvirtue"></a><h2>CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE</h2> +<p>Who lives in suit of armour pent<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And hides himself behind a wall,</span><br /><br /> +For him is not the great event,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The garland nor the Capitol.</span><br /><br /> +And is God's guerdon less than they?<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Nay, moral man, I tell thee Nay:</span><br /><br /> +Nor shall the flaming forts be won<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">By sneaking negatives alone,</span><br /><br /> +By Lenten fast or Ramazàn;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">But by the challenge proudly thrown--</span><br /><br /> +<i>Virtue is that becrowns a Man!</i></p><br /> +<br /> +<p>God, in His Palace resident<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Of Bliss, beheld our sinful ball,</span><br /><br /> +And charged His own Son innocent<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Us to redeem from Adam's fall.</span> +</p> +<p> +"Yet must it be that men Thee slay."<br /> +"Yea, tho' it must, must I obey,"<br /> +Said Christ; and came, His royal Son,<br /> +To die, and dying to atone<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">For harlot, thief, and publican.</span><br /><br /> +Read on that rood He died upon--<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Virtue is that becrowns a Man!</i></span> +</p> +<p> +Beneath that rood where He was bent<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">I saw the world's great captains all</span><br /><br /> +Pass riding home from tournament<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Adown the road from Roncesvalles—</span><br /><br /> +Lord Charlemagne, in one array<br /> +Lords Caesar, Cyrus, Attila,<br /> +Lord Alisaundre of Macedon ...<br /> +With flame on lance and habergeon<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">They passed, and to the rataplan</span><br /><br /> +Of drums gave salutation—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>"Virtue is that becrowns a Man!"</i></span><br /><br /> +Had tall Achilles lounged in tent<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">For aye, and Xanthus neigh'd in stall,</span><br /><br /> +The towers of Troy had ne'er been shent,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Nor stay'd the dance in Priam's hall.</span><br /><br /> +Bend o'er thy book till thou be grey,<br /> +Read, mark, perpend, digest, survey,<br /> +Instruct thee deep as Solomon,<br /> +One only chapter thou canst con,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">One lesson learn, one sentence scan,</span><br /><br /> +One title and one colophon—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Virtue is that becrowns a Man!</i></span> +</p> +<p> +High Virtue's best is eloquent<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">With spur and not with martingall:</span><br /><br /> +Swear not to her thou'rt continent:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">BE COURTEOUS, BRAVE, AND LIBERAL.</span><br /><br /> +God fashion'd thee of chosen clay<br /> +For service, nor did ever say,<br /> +"Deny thee this," "Abstain from yon,"<br /> +But to inure thee, thew and bone.<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">To be confirmèd of the clan</span><br /><br /> +That made immortal Marathon—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Virtue is that becrowns a Man!</i></span> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">ENVOY</span> +<br /> +</p><p>Young Knight, the lists are set to-day!<br /> +Hereafter shall be time to pray<br /> +In sepulture, with hands of stone.<br /> +Ride, then! outride the bugle blown!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And gaily dinging down the van,</span><br /><br /> +Charge with a cheer—<i>"Set on! Set on!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Virtue is that becrowns a Man!"</span></i> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="coronation"></a><h2>CORONATION HYMN</h2> +<p><span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;"><i>Tune</i>--Luther's Chorale</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">"Ein' feste burg ist unser Gott"</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 5em;">I</span> +</p> +<p> +Of old our City hath renown.<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Of God are her foundations,</span><br /><br /> +Wherein this day a King we crown<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Elate among the nations.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Acknowledge, then, thou King—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">And you, ye people, sing—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">What deeds His arm hath wrought:</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Yea, let their tale be taught</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">To endless generations.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 5.25em;">II</span> +</p> +<p> +So long, so far, Jehovah guides<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">His people's path attending,</span><br /><br /> +By pastures green and water-sides<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Toward His hill ascending;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Whence they beneath the stars</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Shall view their ancient wars,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Their perils, far removed.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">O might of mercy proved!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">O love past comprehending!</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 6.75em;">III</span> +</p> +<p> +He was that God, for man which spake<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">From Sinai forth in thunder;</span><br /><br /> +He was that Love, for man which brake<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The dreadful grave asunder.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Lord over every lord,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">His consecrating word</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">An earthly prince awaits;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Lift then your heads, ye gates!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Your King comes riding under.</span> +</p> +<p> +IV</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Be ye lift up, ye deathless doors;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Let wave your banners o'er Him!</span><br /><br /> +Exult, ye streets; be strewn, ye floors,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">With palm, with bay, before Him!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">With transport fetch Him in,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Ye ransom'd folk from sin—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Your Lord, return'd to bless!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">O kneeling king, confess—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">O subject men, adore Him!</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="truro"></a><h2>THREE MEN OF TRURO</h2><br /> +<br /> +<p>I</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>E. W. B.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p><i>Archbishop of Canterbury: sometime the First Bishop<br /> +of Truro. October</i> 1896</p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">The Church's outpost on a neck of land—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.25em;">By ebb of faith the foremost left the last—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">Dull, starved of hope, we watched the driven sand</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.25em;">Blown through the hour-glass, covering our past,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">Counting no hours to our relief—no hail</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">Across the hills, and on the sea no sail!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.25em;">Sick of monotonous days we lost account,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">In fitful dreams remembering days of old</span><br /><br /> +And nights—th' erect Archangel on the Mount<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">With sword that drank the dawn; the Vase of Gold</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">The moving Grail athwart the starry fields</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">Where all the heavenly spearmen clashed their</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 4.75em;">shields.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">In dereliction by the deafening shore</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">We sought no more aloft, but sunk our eyes,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Probing the sea for food, the earth for ore.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Ah, yet had one good soldier of the skies</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">Burst through the wrack reporting news of them,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">How had we run and kissed his garment's hem!</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Nay, but he came! Nay, but he stood and cried,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Panting with joy and the fierce fervent race,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">"Arm, arm! for Christ returns!"—and all our pride,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Our ancient pride, answered that eager face:</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">"Repair His battlements!—Your Christ is near!"</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">And, half in dream, we raised the soldiers' cheer.</span> +<br /> +<br /> +Far, as we flung that challenge, fled the ghosts—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Back, as we built, the obscene foe withdrew—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">High to the song of hammers sang the hosts</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Of Heaven—and lo! the daystar, and a new</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">Dawn with its chalice and its wind as wine;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">And youth was hope, and life once more divine!</span></p><hr style="width: 45%;" /><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Day, and hot noon, and now the evening glow,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">And 'neath our scaffolding the city spread</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Twilit, with rain-wash'd roofs, and—hark!—below,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">One late bell tolling. "Dead? Our Captain dead?"</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">Nay, here with us he fronts the westering sun</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">With shaded eyes and counts the wide fields won.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">Aloft with us! And while another stone</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.25em;">Swings to its socket, haste with trowel and hod!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">Win the old smile a moment ere, alone,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.25em;">Soars the great soul to bear report to God.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">Night falls; but thou, dear Captain, from thy star</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">Look down, behold how bravely goes the war!</span> +<br /> +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<h2>II</h2><br /> +<br /> +<p>A. B. D.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p><i>Canon Residentiary and Precentor of Truro<br /> +December</i> 1903<br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Many had builded, and, the building done,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Through our adornèd gates with din</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Came Prince and Priest, with pipe and clarion</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Leading the right God in.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Yet, had the perfect temple quickened then</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">And whispered us between our song,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>"Give God the praise. To whom of living men</i></span><i><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Shall next our thanks belong?"</span></i><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Then had the few, the very few, that wist</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">His Atlantean labour, swerved</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Their eyes to seek, and in the triumph missed,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">The man that most deserved.</span> +<br /> +<br /> +He only of us was incorporate<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">In all that fabric; stone by stone</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Had built his life in her, had made his fate</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">And her perfection one;</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Given all he had; and now—when all was given—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Far spent, within a private shade,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Heard the loud organ pealing praise to Heaven,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">And learned why man is made.—</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">To break his strength, yet always to be brave;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">To preach, and act, the Crucified ...</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Sweep by, O Prince and Prelate, up the nave,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">And fill it with your pride!</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Better than ye what made th' old temples great,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">Because he loved, he understood;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Indignant that his darling, less in state,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">Should lack a martyr's blood.</span> +</p> +<p> +She hath it now. O mason, strip away<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Her scaffolding, the flower disclose!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Lay by the tools with his o'er-wearied clay—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">But She shall bloom unto its Judgment Day,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">His ever-living Rose!</span> +<br /> +</p><p>III</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>C. W. S.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p><i>The Fourth Bishop of Truro<br /> +May</i> 1912</p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Prince of courtesy defeated,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Heir of hope untimely cheated,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Throned awhile he sat, and, seated,</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Saw his Cornish round him gather;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">"Teach us how to live, good Father!"</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">How to die he taught us rather:</span> +<br /> +<br /> +Heard the startling trumpet sound him,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Smiled upon the feast around him,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Rose, and wrapp'd his coat, and bound him</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">When beyond the awful surges,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Bathed in dawn on Syrian verges,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">God! thy star, thy Cross emerges.</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>And so sing we all to it—</i></p><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Crux, in coelo lux superna,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Sis in carnis hac taberna</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Mihi pedibus lucerna:</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Quo vexillum dux cohortis</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Sistet, super flumen Mortis,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Te, flammantibus in portis!</span> +<br /> +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="almamater"></a><h2>ALMA MATER</h2> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Know you her secret none can utter?</i></span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Hers of the Book, the tripled Crown?</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Still on the spire the pigeons flutter,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Still by the gateway flits the gown;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Still on the street, from corbel and gutter,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Faces of stone look down.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Faces of stone, and stonier faces—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Some from library windows wan</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Forth on her gardens, her green spaces,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Peer and turn to their books anon.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Hence, my Muse, from the green oases</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Gather the tent, begone!</span> +<br /> +<br /> +Nay, should she by the pavement linger<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Under the rooms where once she played,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Who from the feast would rise to fling her</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">One poor <i>sou</i> for her serenade?</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">One short laugh for the antic finger</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Thrumming a lute-string frayed?</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Once, my dear—but the world was young then—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Magdalen elms and Trinity limes—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Lissom the blades and the backs that swung then,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Eight good men in the good old times—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Careless we, and the chorus flung then</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Under St Mary's chimes!</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Reins lay loose and the ways led random—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Christ Church meadow and Iffley track,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">"Idleness horrid and dog-cart" (tandem),</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Aylesbury grind and Bicester pack—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Pleasant our lines, and faith! we scanned 'em:</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Having that artless knack.</span> +</p> +<p> +Come, old limmer, the times grow colder;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Leaves of the creeper redden and fall.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Was it a hand then clapped my shoulder?—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Only the wind by the chapel wall!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Dead leaves drift on the lute ... So, fold her</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Under the faded shawl.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Never we wince, though none deplore us,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">We who go reaping that we sowed;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Cities at cock-crow wake before us—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Hey, for the lilt of the London road!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">One look back, and a rousing chorus!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Never a palinode!</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Still on her spire the pigeons hover;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Still by her gateway haunts the gown.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Ah! but her secret? You, young lover,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Drumming her old ones forth from town,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Know you the secret none discover?</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Tell it—when <i>you</i> go down.</span> +</p> +<p> +Yet if at length you seek her, prove her,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Lean to her whispers never so nigh;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Yet if at last not less her lover</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">You in your hansom leave the High;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Down from her towers a ray shall hover—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Touch you, a passer-by!</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="christmas"></a><h2>CHRISTMAS EVE</h2> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Friend, old friend in the Manse by the fireside sitting,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Hour by hour while the grey ash drips from the log;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">You with a book on your knee, your wife with her knitting,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Silent both, and between you, silent, the dog.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Silent here in the south sit I; and, leaning,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">One sits watching the fire, with chin upon hand;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Gazes deep in its heart—but ah! its meaning</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Rather I read in the shadows and understand.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Dear, kind she is; and daily dearer, kinder,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Love shuts the door on the lamp and our two selves:</span> +<br /> +<br /> + +Not my stirring awakened the flame that behind her<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Lit up a face in the leathern dusk of the shelves.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Veterans are my books, with tarnished gilding:</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Yet there is one gives back to the winter grate</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Gold of a sunset flooding a college building,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Gold of an hour I waited—as now I wait—</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">For a light step on the stair, a girl's low laughter,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Rustle of silk, shy knuckles tapping the oak,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Dinner and mirth upsetting my rooms and, after,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Music, waltz upon waltz, till the June day broke.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Where is her laughter now? Old tarnished covers—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">You that reflect her with fresh young face unchanged—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Tell that we met, that we parted, not as lovers;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Time, chance, brought us together, and these estranged.</span><br /><br /> +Loyal were we to the mood of the moment granted,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Bruised not its bloom, but danced on the wave of its joy;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Passion—wisdom—fell back like a fence enchanted,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Ringing a floor for us both—whole Heaven for the boy!</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Where is she now? Regretted not, though departed,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Blessings attend and follow her all her days!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">—Look to your hound: he dreams of the hares he started,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Whines, and awakes, and stretches his limbs to the blaze.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Far old friend in the Manse, by the green ash peeling</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Flake by flake from the heat in the Yule log's core,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Look past the woman you love. On wall and ceiling</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Climbs not a trellis of roses—and ghosts—of yore?</span> +<br /> +<br /> + +Thoughts, thoughts! Whistle them back like hounds returning—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Mark how her needles pause at a sound upstairs.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Time for bed, and to leave the log's heart burning!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Give ye good-night, but first thank God in your prayers!</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="theroot"></a><h2>THE ROOT</h2> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Deep, Love, yea, very deep.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">And in the dark exiled,</span><br /><br /> +I have no sense of light but still to creep<br /> +And know the breast, but not the eyes. Thy child<br /> +Saw ne'er his mother near, nor if she smiled;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">But only feels her weep.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Yet clouds and branches green</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">There be aloft, somewhere,</span><br /><br /> +And winds, and angel birds that build between,<br /> +As I believe—and I will not despair;<br /> +For faith is evidence of things not seen.<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Love! if I could be there!</span> +<br /> +<br /> + +I will be patient, dear.<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Perchance some part of me</span><br /><br /> +Puts forth aloft and feels the rushing year<br /> +And shades the bird, and is that happy tree<br /> +Then were it strength to serve and not appear,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">And bliss, though blind, to be.</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="violets"></a><h2>TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME A BOX OF VIOLETS</h2> +<p>Nay, more than violets<br /> +These thoughts of thine, friend!<br /> +Rather thy reedy brook—<br /> +Taw's tributary—<br /> +At midnight murmuring,<br /> +Descried them, the delicate<br /> +Dark-eyed goddesses,<br /> +There by his cressy bed<br /> +Dissolved and dreaming<br /> +Dreams that distilled into dew<br /> +All the purple of night,<br /> +All the shine of a planet.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Whereat he whispered;<br /> +And they arising—</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Of day's forget-me-nots<br /> +The duskier sisters—<br /> +Descended, relinquished<br /> +The orchard, the trout-pool,<br /> +Torridge and Tamar,<br /> +The Druid circles,<br /> +Sheepfolds of Dartmoor,<br /> +Granite and sandstone;<br /> +By Roughtor, Dozmare,<br /> +Down the vale of the Fowey<br /> +Moving in silence,<br /> +Brushing the nightshade<br /> +By bridges cyclopean,<br /> +By Trevenna, Treverbyn,<br /> +Lawharne and Largin,<br /> +By Glynn, Lanhydrock,<br /> +Restormel, Lostwithiel,<br /> +Dark wood, dim water, dreaming town;<br /> +Down the vale of the Fowey<br /> +To the tidal water<br /> +Washing the feet<br /> +Of fair St Winnow—<br /> +Each, in her exile<br /> +Musing the message,<br /> +Passed, as the starlit<br /> +Shadow of Ruth from the land of the Moabite.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>So they came,<br /> +Valley-born, valley-nurtured—<br /> +Came to the tideway<br /> +The jetties, the anchorage,<br /> +The salt wind piping,<br /> +Snoring in Equinox,<br /> +By ships at anchor,<br /> +By quays tormented,<br /> +Storm-bitten streets;<br /> +Came to the Haven<br /> +Crying, "Ah, shelter us,<br /> +The strayed ambassadors,<br /> +Love's lost legation<br /> +On a comfortless coast!"</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Nay, but a little sleep,<br /> +A little folding<br /> +Of petals to the lull<br /> +Of quiet rainfalls—<br /> +Here in my garden,<br /> +In angle sheltered<br /> +From north and east wind—<br /> +Softly shall recreate<br /> +The courage of charity,<br /> +Henceforth not to me only<br /> +Breathing the message.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Clean-breath'd Sirens!<br /> +Hencefore the mariner<br /> +Here in the fairway<br /> +Fetching—foul of keel,<br /> +Long-stray but fortunate—<br /> +Out of the fogs, the vast<br /> +Atlantic solitudes.<br /> +Shall, by the hawser-pin<br /> +Waiting the signal<br /> +<i>Leave—go—anchor!</i><br /> +Scent the familiar,<br /> +The unforgettable<br /> +Fragrance of home;<br /> +So in a long breath<br /> +Bless us unknowing:<br /> +Bless them, the violets,<br /> +Bless me, the gardener,<br /> +Bless thee, the giver.</p> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<a name="children"></a><h2>OF THREE CHILDREN</h2><br /> + +<p>OF THREE CHILDREN CHOOSING<br /> +A CHAPLET OF VERSE</p> +<p>You and I and Burd so blithe—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Burd so blithe, and you, and I—</span><br /><br /> +The Mower he would whet his scythe<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Before the dew was dry.</span> +</p> +<p> +And he woke soon, but we woke soon<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And drew the nursery blind,</span><br /><br /> +All wondering at the waning moon<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">With the small June roses twined:</span><br /><br /> +Low in her cradle swung the moon<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">With an elfin dawn behind.</span> +</p> +<p> +In whispers, while our elders slept,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">We knelt and said our prayers,</span><br /><br /> +And dress'd us and on tiptoe crept<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Adown the creaking stairs.</span> +</p> +<p> +The world's possessors lay abed,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And all the world was ours—</span><br /><br /> +"Nay, nay, but hark! the Mower's tread!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And we must save the flowers!"</span> +</p> +<p> +The Mower knew not rest nor haste—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That old unweary man:</span><br /><br /> +But we were young. We paused and raced<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And gather'd while we ran.</span> +</p> +<p> +O youth is careless, youth is fleet,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">With heart and wing of bird!</span><br /><br /> +The lark flew up beneath our feet,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">To his copse the pheasant whirr'd;</span> +</p> +<p> +The cattle from their darkling lairs<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Heaved up and stretch'd themselves;</span><br /><br /> +Almost they trod at unawares<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Upon the busy elves</span> +</p> +<p> +That dropp'd their spools of gossamer,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">To dangle and to dry,</span><br /><br /> +And scurried home to the hollow fir<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Where the white owl winks an eye.</span> +</p> +<p> +Nor you, nor I, nor Burd so blithe<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Had driven them in this haste;</span><br /><br /> +But the old, old man, so lean and lithe,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That afar behind us paced;</span><br /><br /> +So lean and lithe, with shoulder'd scythe,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And a whetstone at his waist.</span> +</p> +<p> +Within the gate, in a grassy round<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Whence they had earliest flown,</span><br /><br /> +He upside-down'd his scythe, and ground<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Its edge with careful hone.</span><br /><br /> +But we heeded not, if we heard, the sound,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">For the world was ours alone;</span><br /><br /> +The world was ours!—and with a bound<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The conquering Sun upshone!</span> +</p> +<p> +And while as from his level ray<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">We stood our eyes to screen.</span><br /><br /> +The world was not as yesterday<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Our homelier world had been—</span><br /><br /> +So grey and golden-green it lay<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">All in his quiet sheen,</span><br /><br /> +That wove the gold into the grey,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The grey into the green.</span><br /><br /> +Sure never hand of Puck, nor wand<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Of Mab the fairies' queen,</span><br /><br /> +Nor prince nor peer of fairyland<br /> +Had power to weave that wide riband<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Of the grey, the gold, the green.</span> +</p> +<p> +But the Gods of Greece had been before<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And walked our meads along,</span><br /><br /> +The great authentic Gods of yore<br /> +That haunt the earth from shore to shore<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Trailing their robes of song.</span> +</p> +<p> +And where a sandall'd foot had brush'd,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And where a scarfed hem,</span><br /><br /> +The flowers awoke from sleep and rush'd<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Like children after them.</span> +</p> +<p> +Pell-mell they poured by vale and stream,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">By lawn and steepy brae—</span><br /><br /> +"O children, children! while you dream,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Your flowers run all away!"</span> +</p> +<p> +But afar and abed and sleepily<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The children heard us call;</span><br /><br /> +And Burd so blithe and you and I<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Must be gatherers for all.</span> +</p> +<p> +The meadow-sweet beside the hedge,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The dog-rose and the vetch,</span><br /><br /> +The sworded iris 'mid the sedge,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The mallow by the ditch—</span> +</p> +<p> +With these, and by the wimpling burn,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Where the midges danced in reels,</span><br /><br /> +With the watermint and the lady fern<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">We brimm'd out wicker creels:</span> +</p> +<p> +Till, all so heavily they weigh'd,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">On a bank we flung us down,</span><br /><br /> +Shook out our treasures 'neath the shade<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And wove this Triple Crown.</span> +</p> +<p> +Flower after flower—for some there were<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The noonday heats had dried,</span><br /><br /> +And some were dear yet could not bear<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">A lovelier cheek beside,</span><br /><br /> +And some were perfect past compare—<br /> +Ah, darlings! what a world of care<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">It cost us to decide!</span> +</p> +<p> +Natheless we sang in sweet accord,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Each bending o'er her brede—</span><br /><br /> +"O there be flowers in Oxenford,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And flowers be north of Tweed,</span><br /><br /> +And flowers there be on earthly sward<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That owe no mortal seed!"</span> +</p> +<p> +And these, the brightest that we wove,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Were Innocence and Truth,</span><br /><br /> +And holy Peace and angel Love,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Glad Hope and gentle Ruth.</span><br /><br /> +Ah, bind them fast with triple twine<br /> +Of Memory, the wild woodbine<br /> +That still, being human, stays divine,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And alone is age's youth!...</span> +</p> +<p> +But hark! but look! the warning rook<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Wings home in level flight;</span><br /><br /> +The children tired with play and book<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Have kiss'd and call'd Good-night!</span> +</p> +<p> +Ah, sisters, look! What fields be these<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That lie so sad and shorn?</span><br /><br /> +What hand has cut our coppices,<br /> +And thro' the trimm'd, the ruin'd, trees<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Lets wail a wind forlorn?</span> +</p> +<p> +'Tis Time, 'tis Time has done this crime<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And laid our meadows waste—</span><br /><br /> +The bent unwearied tyrant Time,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That knows nor rest nor haste.</span> +</p> +<p> +Yet courage, children; homeward bring<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Your hearts, your garlands high;</span><br /><br /> +For we have dared to do a thing<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That shall his worst defy.</span> +</p> +<p> +We cannot nail the dial's hand;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">We cannot bind the sun</span><br /><br /> +By Gibeon to stay and stand,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Or the moon o'er Ajalon;</span> +</p> +<p> +We cannot blunt th' abhorred shears,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Nor shift the skeins of Fate,</span><br /><br /> +Nor say unto the posting years<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">"Ye shall not desolate."</span> +</p> +<p> +We cannot cage the lion's rage,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Nor teach the turtle-dove</span><br /><br /> +Beside what well his moan to tell<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Or to haunt one only grove;</span><br /><br /> +But the lion's brood will range for food<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">As the fledged bird will rove.</span> +</p> +<p> +And east and west we three may wend—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Yet we a wreath have wound</span><br /><br /> +For us shall wind withouten end<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The wide, wide world around:</span> +</p> +<p> +Be it east or west, and ne'er so far,<br /> +In east or west shall peep no star,<br /> +No blossom break from ground,<br /> +But minds us of the wreath we wove<br /> +Of innocence and holy love<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That in the meads we found,</span><br /><br /> +And handsell'd from the Mower's scythe,<br /> +And bound with memory's living withe—<br /> +You and I and Burd so blithe—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Three maidens on a mound:</span><br /><br /> +And all of happiness was ours<br /> +Shall find remembrance 'mid the flowers,<br /> +Shall take revival from the flowers<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And by the flowers be crown'd.</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<h2>EPILOGUE</h2><br /> +<br /> +<a name="smileyes"></a><p>TO A MOTHER, ON SEEING HER SMILE REPEATED<br /> +IN HER DAUGHTER'S EYES</p> +<p>A thousand songs I might have made<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Of You, and only You;</span><br /><br /> +A thousand thousand tongues of fire<br /> +That trembled down a golden wire<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">To lamp the night with stars, to braid</span><br /><br /> +The morning bough with dew.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Within the greenwood girl and boy<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Had loiter'd to their lure,</span><br /><br /> +And men in cities closed their books<br /> +To dream of Spring and running brooks<br /> +And all that ever was of joy<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">For manhood to abjure.</span> +</p> +<p> +And I'd have made them strong, so strong<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Outlasting towers and towns—</span><br /><br /> +Millennial shepherds 'neath the thorn<br /> +Had piped them to a world reborn,<br /> +And danced Delight the dale along<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And up the daisied downs.</span> +</p> +<p> +A thousand songs I might have made...<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">But you required them not;</span><br /><br /> +Content to reign your little while<br /> +Ere, abdicating with a smile,<br /> +You pass'd into a shade, a shade<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Immortal—and forgot!</span> +</p> +</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10133 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5498f30 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #10133 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10133) diff --git a/old/10133-8.txt b/old/10133-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8046325 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10133-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3110 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Vigil of Venus and Other Poems by "Q" + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Vigil of Venus and Other Poems by "Q" + +Author: Q + (AKA: Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch) + +Release Date: November 19, 2003 [EBook #10133] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIGIL OF VENUS *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Sjaani and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +THE VIGIL OF VENUS + +AND OTHER POEMS BY + +"Q" + + +1912 + + + +TO MAURICE HEWLETT + + + + HEWLETT! as ship to ship + Let us the ensign dip. + There may be who despise + For dross our merchandise, + Our balladries, our bales + Of woven tales; + Yet, Hewlett, the glad gales + Favonian! And what spray + Our dolphins toss'd in play, +Full in old Triton's beard, on Iris' shimmering veils! + + Scant tho' the freight of gold + Commercial in our hold, + Pæstum, Eridanus + Perchance have barter'd us + 'Bove chrematistic care + + + + +CONTENTS + +THE VIGIL OF VENUS +PERVIGILIUM VENERIS +THE REGENT--A DRAMA IN ONE ACT +POEMS + EXMOOR VERSES + VASHTI'S SONG + SATURN + DERELICTION + TWO FOLK SONGS + THE SOLDIER + THE MARINE + MARY LESLIE + JENIFER'S LOVE + TWO DUETS + THE STATUES AND THE TEAR + NUPTIAL NIGHT + HESPERUS + CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE + ENVOY + CORONATION HYMN + THREE MEN OF TRURO + ALMA MATER + CHRISTMAS EVE + THE ROOT + TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME A BOX OF VIOLETS + OF THREE CHILDREN CHOOSING A CHAPLET OF VERSE +EPILOGUE: TO A MOTHER, ON SEEING HER SMILE REPEATED +IN HER DAUGHTER'S EYES + + + + +THE VIGIL OF VENUS + + +The _Pervigilium Veneris_--of unknown authorship, but clearly belonging +to the late literature of the Roman Empire--has survived in two MSS., +both preserved at Paris in the _Bibliothèque Nationale_. + +Of these two MSS. the better written may be assigned (at earliest) to +the close of the seventh century; the other (again at earliest) to the +close of the ninth. Both are corrupt; the work of two illiterate +copyists who--strange to say--were both smatterers enough to betray +their little knowledge by converting _Pervigilium_ into _Per Virgilium_ +(_scilicet_, "by Virgil"): thus helping us to follow the process of +thought by which the Middle Ages turned Virgil into a wizard. Here and +there the texts become quite silly, separately or in consent; and just +where they agree in the most surprising way--_i.e._ in the arrangement +of the lines--the conjectural emendator is invited to do his worst by a +note at the head of the older Codex, "Sunt vero versus xxii"--"There are +rightly twenty-two lines." + +This has started much ingenious guess-work. But no really convincing +rearrangement has been achieved as yet; and I have been content to take +the text pretty well as it stands, with a few corrections upon which +most scholars agree. With a poem of "paratactic structure" the best of +us may easily go astray by transposing lines, or blocks of lines, to +correspond with _our_ sequence of thought; and I shall be content if, +following the only texts to which appeal can be made,[1] my translation +be generally intelligible. + +It runs pretty closely, line for line, with the original; because one +may love and emulate classical terseness even while despairing to rival +it. But it does not attempt to be literal; for even were it worth doing, +I doubt if it be possible for anyone in our day to hit precisely the +note intended by an author or heard by a reader in the eighth century. +Men change subtly as nations succeed to nations, religions to religions, +philosophies to philosophies; and it is a property of immortal poetry to +shift its appeal. It does not live by continuing to mean the some thing. +It grows as we grow. We smile, for instance, when some interlocutor in a +dialogue of Plato takes a line from the _Iliad_ and applies it seriously +_au pied de la lettre_. We can hardly conceive what the great line +conveyed to him; but it may mean something equally serious to us, though +in a different way. + +[1] Facsimiles of the two Codices can be studied in a careful edition of +the _Pervigilum_ by Mr Cecil Clementi, published by Mr B.H. Blackwell of +Oxford, 1911. + + + + +PERVIGILIUM VENERIS + +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_. +Ver novum, ver jam canorurn, vere natus orbis est; +Vere concordant amores, vere nubunt alites, +Et nemus comam resolvit de maritis imbribus. +Cras amorum copulatrix inter umbras arborum 5 +Inplicat casas virentes de flagello myrteo: +Cras Dione jura dicit fulta sublimi throno. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_. + +_To-morrow--What news of to-morrow? +Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew_! +It is Spring, it is chorussing Spring; 'tis the birthday of Earth, and + for you! +It is Spring; and the Loves and the birds wing together and woo to accord +Where the bough to the rain has unbraided her locks as a bride to + her lord. +For she walks--she our Lady, our Mistress of Wedlock--the woodlands + atween, 5 +And the bride-bed she weaves them, with myrtle enlacing, with curtains + of green. +Look aloft! list the law of Dione, sublime and enthroned in the blue: +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew_! + +Tunc liquore de superno spumeo et ponti globo, +Cærulas inter catervas, inter et bipedes equos, 10 +Fecit undantem Dionen de maritis imbribus. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quiqiie amavit cras amet_. + +Ipsa gemmis purpurantem pingit annum floribus, +Ipsa surgentes papillas de Favoni spiritu +Urget in toros tepentes; ipsa roris lucidi 15 +Noctis aura quem relinquit, spargit umentes aquas. +Et micant lacrimæ trementes de caduco pondere: + +Time was that a rain-cloud begat her, impregning the heave of the deep, +'Twixt hooves of sea-horses a-scatter, stampeding the dolphins as + sheep. 10 +Lo! arose of that bridal Dione, rainbow'd and besprent of its dew! +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew_! + +She, she, with her gem-dripping finger enamels the wreath of the year; +She, she, when the maid-bud is nubile and swelling winds--whispers anear, +Disguising her voice in the Zephyr's--"So secret the bed! And thou + shy?" 15 +She, she, thro' the hush'd humid Midsummer night draws the dew from on + high; +Dew bright with the tears of its origin, dew with its weight on the bough, + +Gutta præceps orbe parvo sustinet casus suos. +En, pudorem florulentæ prodiderunt purpuræ: +Umor ille quern serenis astra rorant noctibus 20 +Mane virgineas papillas solvit umenti peplo. +Ipsa jussit mane ut udas virgines nubant rosæ; +Fusa Paphies de cruore deque Amoris osculis +Deque gemmis deque flammis deque solis purpuris, +Cras ruborem qui latebat veste tectus ignea 25 +Unico marita nodo non pudebit solvere. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_. + +Misdoubting and clinging and trembling--"Now, now must I fall? Is it now?" +Star-fleck'd on the stem of the brier as it gathers and falters and flows, +Lo! its trail runs a ripple of fire on the nipple it bids be a + rose, 20 +Yet englobes it diaphanous, veil upon veil in a tiffany drawn +To bedrape the small virginal breasts yet unripe for the spousal of dawn; +Till the vein'd very vermeil of Venus, till Cupid's incarnadine kiss, +Till the ray of the ruby, the sunrise, ensanguine the bath of her bliss; +Till the wimple her bosom uncover, a tissue of fire to the view, 25 +And the zone o'er the wrists of the lover slip down as they reach to undo. +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew_! + +Ipsa nymphas diva luco jussit ire myrteo: +It puer comes puellis. Nee tamen credi potest +Esse Amorem feriatum, si sagittas vexerit. 30 +Ite, nymphæ, posuit arma, feriatus est Amor; +Jussus est inermis ire, nudus ire jussus est, +Neu quid arcu, neu sagitta, neu quid igne Iæderet; +Sed tamen nymphse cavete, quod Cupido pulcher est; +Est in armis totus idem quando nudus est Amor! 35 + +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit eras amet_. + +Conpari Venus pudore mittit ad te virgines: + +"Go, maidens," Our Lady commands, "while the myrtle is green in the + groves, +Take the Boy to your escort." "But ah!" cry the maidens, "what trust + is in Love's +Keeping holiday too, while he weareth his archery, tools of his + trade?" 30 +"Go! he lays them aside, an apprentice released; ye may wend unafraid. +See, I bid him disarm, he disarms; mother-naked I bid him to go, +And he goes mother-naked. What flame can he shoot without arrow or bow?" +Yet beware ye of Cupid, ye maidens! Beware most of all when he charms +As a child: for the more he runs naked, the more he's a strong + man-at-arms. 35 + +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew! +"Lady Dian"--Behold how demurely the damsels approach her and sue-- + +Una res est quam rogamus: cede, virgo Delia, +Ut nemus sit incruentum de ferinis stragibus. +Ipsa vellet ut venires, si deceret virginem: 40 +Jam tribus choros videres feriatos noctibus +Congreges inter catervas ire per saltus tuos, +Floreas inter coronas, myrteas inter casas: +Nee Ceres nee Bacchus absunt, nee poetarum Deus; +De tenente tota nox est pervigilia canticis: 45 +Regnet in silvis Dione; tu recede, Delia. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_. + +Hear Venus her only petition! Dear maiden of + Delos, depart! +Let the forest be bloodless to-day, unmolested the + roe and the hart! +Holy huntress, thyself she would bid be her guest, 40 + could thy chastity stoop +To approve of our revels, our dances--three + nights that we weave in a troop +Arm-in-arm thro' thy sanctu'ries whirling, till faint + and dispersed in the grove +We lie with thy lilies for chaplets, thy myrtles for + arbours of love: +And Apollo, with Ceres and Bacchus to chorus-- + song, harvest, and wine-- +Hymns thee dispossess'd, "'Tis Dione who reigns! 45 + Let Diana resign!" +O, the wonderful nights of Dione! dark bough, + with her star shining thro'! +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have + loved, love anew!_ + +Jussit Hyblæis tribunal stare diva floribus; +Præses ipsa jura dicit, adsederunt Gratiæ. +Hybla, totos funde floras quidquid annus adtulit; 50 +Hybla, florum rumpe vestem quantus Ætnæ campus est. + +Ruris hic erunt puellæ, vel puellæ montium, +Quæque silvas, quæque lucos, quæque fontes incolunt: + +Jussit omnes adsidere mater alitis dei, +Jussit et nudo puellas nil Amori credere. 55 + +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet._ +She has set up her court, has Our Lady, in Hybla, + and deckt it with blooms:-- +With the Graces at hand for assessors Dione dispenses + her dooms. +Now burgeon, O Hybla! put forth and abound, till 50 + Proserpina's field, +To the foison thy lap overflowing its laurel of Sicily + yield. +Call, assemble the nymphs--hamadryad and dryad-- + the echoes who court +From the rock, who the rushes inhabit, in ripples + who swim and disport. +"I admonish you maids--I, his mother, who suckled + the scamp ere he flew-- +An ye trust to the Boy flying naked, some pestilent 55 + prank ye shall rue." +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have + loved, love anew!_ + +Et rigentibus virentes ducit umbras floribus: +Cras erit quum primus Æther copulavit nuptias, +Et pater totum creavit vernis annum nubibus, +In sinum maritus imber fluxit almæ conjugis, 60 +Unde fetus mixtus omnes aleret magno corpore. +Ipsa venas atque mentem permeanti spiritu +Intus occultis gubernat procreatrix viribus, +Perque coelum, perque terras, perque pontum + subditum +Pervium sui tenorem seminali tramite 65 + +She has coax'd her the shade of the hazel to cover + the wind-flower's birth. +Since the day the Great Father begat it, descending + in streams upon Earth; +When the Seasons were hid in his loins, and the + Earth lay recumbent, a wife, +To receive in the searching and genital shower the 60 + soft secret of life. +As the terrible thighs drew it down, and conceived, + as the embryo ran +Thoro' blood, thoro' brain, and the Mother gave all + to the making of man, +She, she, our Dione, directed the seminal current to + creep, +Penetrating, possessing, by devious paths all the + height, all the deep. +She, of all procreation procuress, the share to the 65 + furrow laid true; + +Inbuit, jussitque mundum nosse nascendi vias. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit +cras amet._ + +Ipsa Trojanos nepotes in Latinos transtulit, +Ipsa Laurentem puellam conjugem nato dedit; +Moxque Marti de sacello dat pudicam virginem; 70 +Romuleas ipsa fecit cum Sabinis nuptias, +Unde Ramnes et Quirites proque prole posterum +Romuli matrem crearet et nepotem Cæsarem. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras + amet._ + +She, she, to the womb drave the knowledge, and open'd the ecstasy through. +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew!_ + +Her favour it was fill'd the sail of the Trojan for Latium bound; +Her favour that won her Aeneas a bride on Laurentian ground, +And anon from the cloister inveigled the Virgin, the Vestal, + to Mars; 70 +As her wit by the wild Sabine rape recreated her Rome for its wars, +With the Ramnes, Quirites, together ancestrally proud as they drew +From Romulus down to our Caesar--last, best of that bone, of that thew. +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew!_ + +Rura fecundat voluptas: rura Venerem sentiunt: 75 +Ipse Amor puer Dionse rure natus dicitur. +Hunc ager, cum parturiret ipsa, suscepit sinu: +Ipsa florum delicatis educavit osculis. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras, +amet_. + +Ecce jam super genestas explicant tauri latus, 80 +Quisque tutus quo tenetur conjugali foedere: +Subter umbras cum maritis ecce balantum greges; +Et canoras non tacere diva jussit alites. + +Pleasure planteth a field; it conceives to the passion, 75 + the pang, of his joy. +In a field was Dione in labour delivered of Cupid the + Boy; +And the field in its fostering lap from her travail + received him: he drew +Mother's milk from the delicate kisses of flowers; + and he prosper'd and grew-- +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have + loved, love anew!_ + +Lo! behold ye the bulls, with how lordly a flank 80 + they besprawl on the broom!-- +Yet obey the uxorious yoke, and are tamed to + Dione her doom. +Or behear ye the sheep, to the husbanding rams + how they bleat to the shade! +Or behear ye the birds, at the Goddess' command + how they sing unafraid! + +Jam loquaces ore rauco stagna cycni perstrepunt; +Adsonat Terei puella subter umbram populi, 85 +Ut putes motus amoris ore dici musico, +Et neges queri sororem de marito barbaro. +Ilia cantat, nos tacemus. Quando ver venit meum? +Quando fiam uti chelidon, ut tacere desinam? +Perdidi Musam tacendo, nec me Apollo respicit; 90 +Sic Amyclas, cum tacerent, perdidit silentium. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras +amet_. + +Be it harsh as the swannery's clamour that shatters the hush of the lake, +Be it dulcet as where Philomela holds darkling the poplar awake, 85 +So melting her soul into music, you'd vow 'twas her passion, her own, +She plaineth--her sister forgot, with the Daulian crime long-agone. +Hark! Hush! Draw around to the circle ... Ah, loitering Summer! Say when +For me shall be broken the charm, that I chirp with the swallow again? +I am old; I am dumb; I have waited to sing till Apollo withdrew-- 90 +So Amyclae a moment was mute, and for ever a wilderness grew. +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew,_ + _To-morrow!--to-morrow!_ + + + + +TO +CHARLES THURSBY + +THE "ONLIE BEGETTER" + + + + +THE REGENT + +A DRAMA IN ONE ACT + + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +CARL'ANTONIO, _Duke of Adria_ + +TONINO, _his young son_ + +LUCIO; _Count of Vallescura, brother to the Duchess_ + +CESARIO, _Captain of the Guard_ + +GAMBA, _a Fool_ + + +OTTILIA, _Duchess and Regent of Adria_ + +LUCETTA, _a Lady-in-Waiting_ + +FULVIA, _a Lady of the Court_ + + +_Courtiers, Priests, Choristers, Soldiers, Mariners, +Townsfolk, etc._ + +_The Scene is the Ducal Palace of Adria, in the N. Adriatic_ + +_The Date, 1571_ + + + + +THE REGENT + +SCENE.--_A terraced courtyard before the Ducal Palace. +Porch and entrance of Chapel, R. A semicircular +balcony, L., with balustrade and marble seats, and an +opening whence a flight of steps leads down to the +city. The city lies out of sight below the terrace; +from which, between its cypresses and statuary, is +seen a straight stretch of a canal; beyond the canal are +sand-hills and the line of the open sea. Mountains, +L., dip down to the sea and form a curve of the +coast._ + +_As the curtain rises, a crowd of town and country +folk is being herded to the back of the terrace by the +Ducal Guard, under Cesario. Within the Chapel, to_ +_the sound of an organ, boys' voices are chanting the +service of the Mass._ + +_Cesario, Gamba the Fool, Guards, Populace._ + + +_Cesario._ Way there! Give room! The Regent comes from Mass. +Guards, butt them on the toes--way there! give room! +Prick me that laggard's leg-importunate fools! + +_Guards._ Room for the Regent! Room! + +[_The sacring bell rings within the Chapel._ + +_Cesario._ Hark there, the bell! + +[_A pause. Men of the crowd take off their caps._ + +Could ye not leave, this day of all the year, +Your silly suits, petitions, quarrels, pleas? +Could ye not leave, this once in seven years, +Our Lady to come holy-quiet from Mass. +Lean on the wall, and loose her cage-bird heart, +To lift and breast and dance upon the breeze. +Draws home her lord the Duke? + +_Crowd._ Long live the Duke! + +_Cesario._ The devil, then! Why darken his approach? + + +_Gamba (from the bench where he has been mending his +viol)._ Because, Captain, 'tis a property knaves +and fools have in common--to stand in their own +light, as 'tis of soldiers to talk bad logic. That +knave, now--he with the red nose and the black +eye--the Duke's colours, loyal man!--you clap +an iron on his leg, and ask him why he is not +down in the city, hanging them out of window! +Go to: you are a soldier! + +_Cesario._ And you a Fool, and on your own showing +stand in your own light. + +_Gamba._ Nay, neither in my own light, nor as a +Fool. So should myself stand between the sun +and my shadow; whereas I am not myself--these +seven years have I been but the shadow of a +Fool. Yet one must tune up for the Duke. + +_(Strikes his viol and sings.)_ + +"Bird of the South, my Rondinello----" + +Flat-Flat! + + +_Cesario (calling up to watchman on the Chapel roof)._ Ho there! What news? + +_A Voice._ Captain, no sail! + +_Cesario._ Where sits +The wind? + +_Voice._ Nor' west, and north a point! + +_Cesario._ Perchance +They have down'd sail and creep around the flats. + +_Gamba (tuning his viol)._ Flats, flats! the straight horizon, and the life +These seven years laid by rule! The curst canal +Drawn level through the drawn-out level sand +And thistle-tufts that stink as soon as pluck'd! +Give me the hot crag and the dancing heat, +Give me the Abruzzi, and the cushioned thyme-- +Brooks at my feet, high glittering snows above. +What were thy music, viol, without a ridge? + + +[_Noise of commotion in the city below._ + + +_Cesario_. Watchman, what news? + +_A Voice_. Sir, on the sea no sail! + +_One of the Crowd_. But through the town below a horseman spurs-- +I think, Count Lucio! Yes--Count Lucio! +He nears, draws rein, dismounts! + +_Cesario_. Sure, he brings news. + + +_Gamba_. I think he brings word the Duke is sick; +his loyal folk have drunk so much of his +health. + +[_A murmur has been growing in the town below. It +breaks into cheers as Count Lucio comes springing +up to the terrace._ + +_Enter Lucio._ + + +_Lucio._ News! Where's the Regent? Eh? is Mass not said? +Cesario, news! I rode across the dunes; +A pilot--Nestore--you know the man-- +Came panting. Sixteen sail beyond the point! +That's not a galley lost! + +_Crowd._ Long live the Duke! + +_Lucio._ Hark to the tocsin! I have carried fire-- +Wildfire! Why, where's my sister? I've a mind-- + + +[_He strides towards the door of the Chapel; but +pauses at the sound of chanting within, and +comes back to Cesario._ + + +Man, are you mute? I say the town's aflame +Below! But here, up here, you stand and stare +Like prisoners loosed to daylight. Rub your eyes, +Believe! + +_Cesario (musing)._ It has been long. + +_Lucio._ As tapestry +Pricked out by women's needles; point-device +As saints in fitted haloes. Yet they stab, +Those needles. Oh, the devil take their tongues! + +_Cesario._ Why, what's the matter? + +_Lucio._ P'st! another lie +Against the Countess Fulvia; and the train +Laid to my sister's ear. Cesario, +My sister is a saint--and yet she married: +Therefore should understand ... Would saints, like cobblers, +Stick but to business in this naughty world! +Ah, well! the Duke comes home. + +_Cesario._ And what of that? + +_Lucio._ Release! + +_Cesario._ Release? + +_Lucio (mocking a chant within the Chapel)._ From priests and petticoats +Deliver us, Good Lord! + +_Gamba (strikes a chord on viol). AMEN!_ + +_Cesario._ Count Lucio, +These seven years agone, when the Duke sailed, +You were a child--a pretty, forward boy; +And I a young lieutenant of the Guard, +Burning to serve abroad. But that day, rather, +I clenched my nails over an inward wound: +For that a something manlier than my years-- +Look, bearing, what-not--by the Duke not miss'd, +Condemned me to promotion: I must bide +At home, command the Guard! 'Tis an old hurt, +But scalded on my memory.... Well, they sailed! +And from the terrace here, sick with self-pity, +Wrapped in my wrong, forgetful of devoir, +I watch'd them through a mist--turned with a sob-- +Uptore my rooted sight-- + There, there she stood; +Her hand press'd to her girdle, where the babe +Stirred in her body while she gazed--she gazed-- +But slowly back controlled her eyes, met mine; +So--with how wan, how small, how brave a smile!-- +Reached me her hands to kiss ... + O royal hands! +What burdens since they have borne let Adria tell. +But hear me swear by them, Count Lucio-- +Who slights our Regent throws his glove to me. + +_Lucio._ Why, soothly, she's my sister! + +_Cesario._ 'But the court +Is dull? No masques, few banquetings--and prayers +Be long, and youth for pastime leaps the gate?' +Yet if the money husbanded on feasts +Have fed our soldiery against the Turk, +Year after year, and still the State not starved; +Was't not well done? And if, responsible +To God, and lonely, she has leaned on God +Too heavily for our patience, was't not wise?-- +And well, though weary? + +_Lucio._ I tell you, she's my sister! + +_Cesario._ Well, an you will, bridle on that. Lord Lucio, +You named the Countess Fulvia. To my sorrow, +Two hours ago I called on her and laid her +Under arrest. + +_Lucio._ The devil! For what? + +_Cesario._ For that +A lady, whose lord keeps summer in the hills +To nurse a gouty foot, should penalize +His dutiful return by shutting doors +And hanging out a ladder made of rope, +Or prove its safety by rehearsing it +Upon a heavier man. + +_Lucio._ I'll go to her. +Oh, this is infamous! + +_Cesario._ Nay, be advised: +No hardship irks the lady, save to sit +At home and feed her sparrows; nor no worse +Annoy than from her balcony to spy +(Should the eye rove) a Switzer of the Guard +At post between her raspberry-canes, to watch +And fright the thrushes from forbidden fruit. + +_Lucio._ Infamous! infamous! + +_Cesario._ Enough, my lord: +The Regent! + + +[_Doors of the Chapel open. The organ sounds, +with voices of choir chanting the recessional. +The Court enters from Mass, attending the +Regent Ottilia and her son Tonino. She wears +a crown and heavy dalmatic. Her brother +Lucio, controlling himself with an effort, kisses +her hand and conducts her to the marble bench, +which serves for her Chair of State. She bows, +receiving the homage of the crowd; but, after +seating herself, appears for a few moments unconscious +of her surroundings. Then, as her +rosary slips from her fingers and falls heavily +at her feet, she speaks._ + +_Regent._ So slips the chain linking this world with Heaven, +And drops me back to earth: so slips the chain +That hangs my spirit to the Redeemer's cross +Above pollution in the pure swept air +Whereunder frets this hive: so slips the chain-- +_(She starts up)_--God! the dear sound! Was that his anchor dropped? +Speak to the watchman, one! Call to the watch! +What news? + +_Cesario._ Aloft! What news? + +_Voice above._ No sail as yet! + +_Regent._ Ah, pardon, sirs! My ears are strung to-day, +And play false airs invented by the wind. +Methought a hawse-pipe rattled ... + +_Gamba (chants to his viol). Shepherds, see-- +Lo! What a mariner love hath made me!_ + +_Regent._ What chants the Fool? + +_Gamba._ Madonna, 'tis a trifle +Made by a silly poet on wives that stand +All night at windows listening the surf-- +_Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no!_ + +_Lucio._ Peace, lively! Madam, there is news--brave news! +I'm from the watch-house. There the pilots tell +Of sixteen sail to the southward! Sixteen sail, +And nearing fast! + +_Regent._ Praise God! dear Lucio! + + +[_She has seated herself again. She takes Lucio's +hand and speaks, petting it._ + + +What? Glowing with my happiness? That's like you. +But for yourself the hour, too, holds release. + +_Lucio (between sullenness and shame, with a glance at +Cesario)._ "Release?" + +_Regent._ You will forgive? I have great need +To be forgiven: sadly I have been slack +In guardianship, and by so much betrayed +My promise to our mother's passing soul. +Myself in cares immersed, I left the child +Among his toys--and turn to find him man-- +But yet so much a boy that boyhood can +_(Wistfully)_ Laugh in his honest eyes? Forgive me, Lucio! +Tell me, whate'er have slackened, there has slipped +No knot of love. To-morrow we'll make sport, +Be playmates and invent new games, and old-- +Wreath flowers for crowns-- + + +[_He drags his hand away. She gazes at him +wistfully, and turns to the Captain of the +Guard._ + + + Cesario, +What are the suits? + +_Cesario._ They are but three to-day, +Madonna. First, a scoundrel here in irons +For having struck the Guard. + +_Regent (eying the culprit)._ His name, I think, +Is Donatello Crocco. Hey? You improve, +Good man. The last time 'twas your wife you basted. +At this rate, in another year or two +You'll bang the Turk. Do you confess the assault? + +_Prisoner._ I do. + +_Regent._ Upon a promise we dismiss you. +Your tavern, as it comes into our mind, +Is the 'Three Cups.' So many, and no more, +You'll drink to-day--have we your word? Three cups, +And each a _Viva_ for the Duke's return. + +_Prisoner._ Your Highness, I'll not take it at the price +Of my good manners. I'm a gallant man: +And who in Adria calls. 'Three cheers for the Duke!' +But adds a fourth for the Duchess? Lady, nay; +Grant me that fourth, or back I go to the cells! + + +[_The Regent laughs and nods to the Guard to release +him._ + + +_Regent._ What next? + +_An Old Woman (very rapidly)._ Your Highness will not know me--Zia +Agnese, Giovannucci's wife that was; +And feed a two-three cows, as a widow may, +On the marshes where the grass is salt and sweet +As your Highness knows--and always true to pail +Until this Nicolo-- + +_Nicolo._ Lies! lies, your Highness! + +_Old Woman._ Having a quarrel, puts the evil eye +On Serafina. She's my best of cows, +In stall with calf but ten days weaned. + +_Nicolo._ Lies! lies! + +_Old Woman._ I would your Highness saw her! When that thief +Hangs upon Lazarus' bosom, he'll be bidding +A ducat for each drop of milk he's cost me, +To cool his tongue. + +_Regent._ Ay--ay, the cow is sick, +I think; and mind me, being country-bred, +Of a cure for such: which is, to buy a comb +And comb the sufferer's tail at feeding-time. +If Zia Agnese do but this, she'll counter +The Evil Eye, and maybe with her own +Detect who thieves her Serafina's hay. + +_Old Woman._ God bless your Highness! + +_Nicolo._ God bless your Highness! + +_Regent (taking up a fresh suit)._Why, what's here? "_Costanza, +Wife of Giuseppe Boni, citeth him +And sueth to live separate, for neglect +And divers beatings, as to wit----_" H'm, h'm-- +_Likewise to keep the child Geronimo, +Begotten of his body._ You defend +The suit, Giuseppe? + +_A Young Peasant (shrugs his shoulders)._ As the woman will! +I'll not deny I beat her. + +_Regent._ But neglect! +How came you to neglect her? Look on her-- +The handsome, frowsy slut, that, by appearance, +Hath never washed her body since she wed. +A beating we might pass. But how neglect +To take her by the neck unto the pump +And hold her till her wet and furious face +Were once again worth kissing? Well--well--well! +Neglect is proven. She shall have deserts: +_(To a Clerk)_ But--write, "Defendant keeps his lawful child." + +_Young Peasant._ My lady-- + +_Wife._ Nay, my lady-- + +_Regent._ Eh? What's this? + +_Wife._ The poor _bambino_! Nay, 'twas not the suit! +How should Giuseppe, being a fool, a man-- + +_Young Peasant._ Aye, aye: that's sense. I love him: still, you see-- + +_Regent._ An if my judgment suit you not, go home, +The pair. _(As they are going she calls the woman back.)_ + Costanza! hath your husband erred +With other woman? + +_Young Peasant_. Never! + +_Wife_. I'll not charge him +With that. + +_Regent_. But, yes, you may. This man hath held +Another woman to his breast. + +_Wife_. Her name? +That I may tear her eyes! + +_Regent_. Her name's Costanza. +The same Costanza that, with body washed, +With ribbon in her hair, light in her eyes, +Arrayed a cottage to allure his heart. +Go home, poor fools, and find her!... + Heigh! No others? [_Heaves a sigh._ +Captain, dismiss the Guard. The watch, aloft-- +Set him elsewhere. We would not be o'erlooked. +You only, Lucio--you, Lucetta--stay; +You for a while, Cesario. + + [_Exeunt Courtiers, Guard, Crowd, etc._ + +Heigh! that's over-- +The last Court of the Regent; and the books +Accounts of stewardship, my seven years all, +Closed here for audit. + Nay, there's one thing more-- +Brother, erewhile I spoke you sisterly, +You turned away, and still you bite your lip: +Signs that may short my preface. It concerns +The Countess Fulvia. + +_Lucio_. Ha! + +_Regent_. Go, bring her, Captain. + + [_Exit Cesario_. + +List to me, Lucio: listen, brother dear, +First playmate-child, tending whose innocence +Myself learned motherhood. Shall I deny +Youth to be loved and follow after love? +There is a love breaks like a morning beam +On the husht novice kneeling by his arms; +And worse there is, whose kisses strangle love, +Whose feet take hold of hell. My Lucio, + Follow not that! + +_Lucio_. Why, who--who hath maligned + The Countess? + +_Regent_ Not maligned. Lucetta, here-- + +_Lucio_. Lucetta! Curse Lucetta and her tongue! + Am I a child, to be nagged by waiting-maids? + +_Regent_. No, but a man, and shall weigh evidence. + +_Lucio_. But I'll not hear it! If her viper tongue + Can kill, why kill it must. But send me a man, + And I will smite his mouth--ay, slit his tongue-- + That dares defame the Countess! + +_Regent_. Stay: she comes. + + [_Enter the Countess Fulvia, Cesario attending._ + + Madam, the reason wherefore you are summoned + No doubt you guess, from a rude earlier call + Our Captain paid you. Certain practices, + Which you may force me name, are charged upon + you +On testimony you may force me call + And may with freedom question. + +_Fulvia_. I'll not question: + No, nor I will not answer. + +_Lucio_. Then I'll answer!' + For me, for all, she is innocent! + +_Regent_. For you? + We'll hope it: but 'for all' 's more wide an oath + Than you can swear, sir. I'll not bandy you + Words nor debate. Myself the ladder saw; + Lucetta, here, the ladder and the man. + _What_ man she will not say. Cesario + Has tracked his footprint on her garden plots. + Must we say more? + +_Fulvia_. No need. Her fingering mind + Is a close cupboard turning all things rancid. + +_Lucio_. Yea, for such wry-necks all the world's a lawn + To peek and peer and pounce a sinful worm; + The fatter, the more luscious. + +_Regent. _ Lucio, + This woman nought gainsays. + +_Fulvia (fiercely)._ As why should I? + I'll question not, nor answer. 'Neath your brow + My sentence hunches, crawls, like cat to spring. + Pah! there's no prude will match your virtuous wife + You'd banish me? + +_Regent._ I do. Cesario, + See to it the City gate shuts not to-night. + And she this side. + +_Fulvia (laughs recklessly)._ To-night? To-night's your own. + Most modest woman! Duchess, there's a well + By the road, some seven miles beyond the town. + There, 'neath the stars, I'll dip a hand and drink + To the good Duke's disport. But have a care! + That cup's not yet to lip. + +_Regent. _ Captain, remove her. + Lucio, remain. + +_[Exeunt the Countess Fulvia, Cesario following]_ + +_Lucio._ I'll not remain--When ice + Sits judge of fire, what justice shall be done? + Sister, there be your books--peruse them. There + The sea-line--bide you so with back to it. + While the cold inward heat of cruelty + Warms what was once your heart, now crusted o'er + With duty and slimed with poisonous drip of tongues. + God help the Duke, if what he left he'd find! + + _[Exit Lucio]_ + +_Regent._ Is't so, I wonder? Go, Lucetta, fetch + My glass, if haply I may tell. + + _[Exit Lucetta.]_ + + Is't so? + And have these years enforced, encrusted me + To something monstrous, neither woman nor man? +My lord, my lord! too heavy was the load + You laid! Yet I'll not blame you: for myself + Ruled the straight path the long account correct + As in these books, my ledgers.... + + [_While she turns the pages, Gamba the Fool creeps + in and hoists himself on the balustrade. He + tries his viol, and sings_. + +SONG: _Gamba_. + + Bird of the South, my Rondinello-- + +_Regent_. Hey? That Song! + +_Gamba_. Hie to me, fly to me, steel-blue mate! + Under my breast-knot flutters thy fellow; + Here can I rest not, and thou so late. + Home, to me, home! + 'Love, love, I come!' + --Dear one, I wait! +_Quanno nacesti tu, nacqui pur io: +La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio_! +You know the song, madonna? + +_Regent_. Ay, fool. Sit + Here at my feet, sing on. + +_Gamba (sings)._ + + Bird of the South, my Rondinello + Under thy wing my heart hath lain + Till the rain falling on last leaves yellow + Drumm'd to thee, calling southward again. + Home, to me, home! + 'Love, love, I come!' + Ah, love, the pain! + _Addio, addio! ed un' altra volt' addio! + La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio! +(Pause)._ + A foolish rustic thing the shepherd wives + In our Abruzzi croon by winter fires, + Of their husbands in the plains. + +_Regent_. Gamba! + +_Gamba_. Madonna? + +_Regent_. I'd make thee my confessor. Mindest thou, + By Villalago, where from Sanno's lake + The stream, our Tasso, hurls it down the glen? + One noon, with Lucio--ever in those days + With Lucio--on a rock within the spray, + I wove a ferny garland, while the boy + Roamed, but returned in triumph, having trapped + A bee in a bell-flower--held it to my ear, + Laughing, dissembling that he feared to loose + The hairy thief. So laughed we--and were still, + As deep in Vallescura wound a horn, + And up the pathway 'neath the dappling bough + Came riding--flecked with sunshine, man and horse,-- + My lord, my lover; and that song, that song + Upon his lips.... + +_Voice of Watchman_. Sail ho! a sail! a sail! + + _[Murmur of populace below. It grows and swells to + a roar as enter hurriedly courtiers, guards, and + others: Cesario; Lucetta with mirror._] + +_Lucetta_. My lady! O my lady!-- + +_Cesario_. See, they near! + Galley on galley--look, there, by the point! + +_Regent_. O, could my heart keep tally with the surge + That here comes crowding! + +_Lucetta_. Joy, my lady! Joy! + +_All_. Joy! Joy, my lady! + + _[They press flowers on her. A pause, while they + watch. On the canal the galleys come into + sight. They near: and as the oars rise and + fall, the rowers' chorus is borne from the distance. + It is the Rondinello song_ + +_Chorus in Distance. La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio!_ + +_Regent_. Thanks, my good, good friends! + And deem it not discourteous if alone +I'd tune my heart to bliss. + My glass, Lucetta! + + _[Takes mirror.]_ + + Some thoughts there are--some thoughts---- + +_Courtiers_. God save you, madam! + + _[They go out, leaving the Regent alone._] + +_Regent (she loosens the clasp of her robe)._ Some thoughts +--some thoughts-- + Fall from me, envious robe! + Rest there, my crown--thou more than leaden ache! + Ah!-- + God! What a mountain drops! I float--I am lifted + Like thistledown on nothing. Back, my crown-- + Weight me to earth! Nay, nay, thy rim shall bite + No more upon this forehead ... Where's my glass? + O mirror, mirror, hath it bit so deep? + My love is coming, hark! O, say not grey, +Sweet mirror! Tell, what time to cure it now? + And he so near, so near! + How shall I meet him? + Why how but as the river leaps to sea, + Steel to its magnet, child to mother's arms? + + [_She catches up flowers from the baskets left by the + courtiers, and decks herself mildly._ + + Flowers for my hair, flowers at the breast! Sweet flowers, + He'll crush you 'gainst his corslet. He has arms + Like bands of iron for clasping, has my love. + He'll hurt, he'll hurt ... But oh, sweet flowers, to lie + And feel you helpless while he grips and bruises + Your weak protesting breasts! You'll die in bliss, + Panting your fragrance out.-- + Wh'st! Hush, poor fool! + I have unlearned love's very alphabet. + Men like us coy, demure ... Then I'll coquet +And play Madam Disdain--but not to-day. + To-morrow I'll be shrewish, shy, perverse, + Exacting, cold--all April in my moods: + We'll walk the forest, and I'll slip from him, + Hide me like Dryad 'mid the oaks, and mark + His hot dark face pursuing; or I'll couch + In covert green, and hold my breath to hear + His blundering foot go by; then up I'll leap, + And run--and he'll run after. O this lightness! + I'll draw him like a fairy, dance and double-- + Yet not so fast but he shall overtake + At length, and catch me panting. O, I charge you, + I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, + Wake not my love beneath the forest bough + Where we lie dreaming! + + _[Fanfare of trumpets in the distance.]_ + + Trumpets, hark! and drums! + They have landed! From the quay they march! + Flowers! flowers! +They are near ... I see him!... Carlo! lord and love! + He looks--waves--O 'tis he! O foolish heart!-- + I had feared he'd ta'en a wound. + What is't they shout? + Eh? 'Victory!'--yes, yes. He's browner, thinner; + And the dear eyes, how gaunt!... Yes + 'Victory!' + 'Victory!' ... lord, and love!,.. + +_[The shouts of acclamation are heard now close +under the terrace. Spears and banners are +seen trooping past. Beside herself, she throws +flowers to them, laughing, weeping the while. +Then, running to the Chapel door, she +prostrates herself before the image of the +Virgin that crowns its archway.]_ + + O Mary, Mother! + Thou, in whose breast all women's thoughts have moved, + All woman's passions heaved. Lo! I adore! + Sweet Mother, hold my hands, rejoice with me: + My bridegroom cometh! + +[_During this invocation the Countess Fulvia has +crept in, a stiletto in her hand. She leans +over the Regent and stabs her twice in the +breast.]_ + +_Fulvia._ Then with that!--and that! + Go meet him! + +_Regent_ (_turns, looks up, and falls on her face_). + Oh! I am slain! + +_Fulvia._ And I am worse! + But there's my flower, my red flower, on your breast.-- + Go, meet your lord and show it! + +[_She passes down the steps as Lucetta runs in.]_ + +_Lucetta._ Madam! Madam! + The Duke is at the gate--Madam!-- + Christ! she is murdered! Murder! Murder! + +_Regent._ Fie, +Lucetta! peace! What word to greet the Duke +For his home-coming! Lift me ... Quick, my robe-- +My Crown! Call no one. O, but hasten! + +_Lucetta_ (_helpless, wringing her hands_). Madam! + +_Regent._ I need your strength, and must I steady you? +Lucetta, years ago you disarrayed me +Upon my bridal night. I would you'd whisper +The rogueries your tongue invented then. +I have few moments, girl ... I'd have them wanton. +Make jest this mantle hides the maid I was. +I'll have no priest, no doctor--Fetch Tonino! +I must present his son-- +[_Lucetta runs out._ +All's acted quick: +Bride-bed, conception, birth--and death! But he +Shall sum it in one moment death not takes ... +What noise of trumpets!... Is the wound not covered? + +[_She wraps herself carefully in her mantle as the +courtiers pour in. The child Tonino runs to +her and stands by her side. Lucio, Cesario, +all the Court, group themselves round her as +the Duke enters. He rushes in eagerly; but +she sets her teeth on her anguish, and receives +him with a low reverence._ + +Welcome my lord! + +_Duke._ Ottilia! + +_Regent._ Good my lord, +Welcome! This day is bright restores you to +Your loyal Duchy. + +Duke (_impatient_). Wife! Ottilia! + +_Regent_ (_she lifts a hand to keep him at distance_). +There must be forms, my lord--some forms! Cesario, +Render the Duke his sceptre. As bar to socket, +When the gate closes on a town secure, +So locks this rod back to his manly clutch-- +Cry all, 'Long live the Duke!' + +_All._ Long live the Duke! + +_Duke._ Wife, make an end with forms! + +_Lucio_ (_to Cesario_). And so say I! +A man would think my sister had no blood +In her body. + +_Cesario_ (_watching the Regent_). Peace, man: something +there's amiss. + +_Regent._ Yet here is he that sceptre shall inherit. +Lucetta, lead his first-born to the Duke. +His first-born!--Nay but look on him how straight +Of limb, how set and shoulder-square, tho' slender! +He'll sit a horse, in time, and toss a lance +Even with his father. + +_Duke._ There's my blessing, boy! +But stand aside. Look in my face, Ottilia-- +Hearken me, all! One thing these seven years +My life hath lacked, which wanting, all your cannon, +Your banners, _vivas_, bells that rock the roofs, +Throng'd windows, craning faces--all--all--all +Were phantasms, were noise.-- + +_Lucio_ (_exclaims_). Why look, here's blood! +Here, on the boy's hand! + +_Regent._ Ay! a scratch, no worse, +Here, when I pinned my robe. + +_Duke_ (_continuing_). Nay, friends, this moment +My Duchy her dear hand restores to me +To me's a dream. More buoyant would I tread +Dumb street, deserted square, climb ruin'd wall, +Where in a heap beneath a broken flag +Lay Adria.-- +So that amid the ruins stood my love +And stretched her hands so faintly--stretched her hands +So faintly. See! She's mine! She lifts them-- + +_Regent_ (_totters and falls into his arms with a tired, happy +laugh, which ends in a cry as his arms enfold her_). Ah! + + [_She faints._ + +_Duke_. (_after a moment, releasing her a little_). What's +here? Ottilia! + +_Lucetta._ My mistress swoons! + +_A Courtier._ 'Tis happiness-- + +_Duke._ Fetch water! + +_Lucio._ Nay this blood-- + Came of no scratch! + +_Lucetta._ Loosen her bodice-- + +_Duke._ Blood? + Why blood? Where's blood? + +(_Stares as the mantle is imclasped and falls open_). + Ah, my God! + +_Lucetta._ Murder! murder! +The Countess Fulvia-- + +_Cesario._ Speak! + +_Lucetta._ There--while she knelt-- +Stabbed her, and fled. + +_Cesario._ Which way? + +[_Lucetta points to the stairs. He dashes off in +pursuit._ + +_Duke._ All-seeing God! +Where were thine eyes, or else thy justice? Dead? +O, never dead! + +_Lucio._ Ay, Duke, push God aside, +As I push thee. I have the better right: +I killed her--I. O never pass, sweet soul, +Till thou hast drunk a shudder of this wretch, +Thy brother, playmate, murderer! + +_Duke._ Wine! bring wine-- + +_Regent_ (_as the wine is brought and revives her_). +Flower, he will crush thee--but the bliss, the bliss! +I swim in bliss. What ... Lucio? Where's my lord? +Dear, bring him: he was here awhile and held me. +Say he must hold, or the light air will lift +And bear me quite away. + +[_Re-enter Cesario. In one hand he carries his +sword, in the other a dagger._ + +_Lucio._ Cesario! +What! Is that devil escaped? To think--to think +I drank her kisses!--What? Where is she? + +_Cesario._ Dead. +I raised the cry: the people pointed after; +Ran with me, ravening. Just this side the bridge +She heard our howl and turned--drew back the dagger +Red with our lady's blood, then drove it home +Clean to her own black heart. + +_Regent._ God pardon her! +I would what blood of mine clung to the blade +Might mix with hers and sweeten it for mercy. + +_Lucio._ Will you forgive her? Then forgive not me! + +_Regent._ Dear Lucio!--You'll not pluck away your hand +This time? Hush! Where's Cesario?... Friend, farewell. +Where lies the body? + +_Cesario._ Sooth, madonna, I flung it +To the river's will, to roll it down to sea +Or cast on muddy bar, for dogs to gnaw. + +_Regent._ The river? Ah! How strong the river rolls! +Hold me, my lord-- + +_Duke._ Love, love, I hold you + +_Regent._--Ay! +The child, too--You will hold the child?... + This roar +Deafens but will not drown us. + +[_Within the Chapel the choir is chanting a dirge. +Gamba goes and closes the door on the sound: +then creeps to the foot of the couch. The +dying woman gently motions aside the cross +a priest is holding to her, and looks up at her +husband._ + +[_Below the terrace a voice is heard singing the +Rondinello song._ + + Look! beyond +Be waters where no galley moves with oar, +So wide, so waveless,--and, between the woods, +Meadows--O land me there!... Hark, my lord's voice +Singing in Vallescura! Soft my, love, +I am so tired--so tired! Love, let me play! +[_Dies._ + +[_The Courtiers lift the body in silence and bear it +to the Chapel, the Duke and his train following. +The doors close on them. On the stage are +left only Cesario, standing by the balustrade; +and Gamba, who has seated himself with his +viol and touches it, as still the voice sings +below--_ + +Addio, Addio! ed un'altra volt'addio! +La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio! + +[_On the last note a string of the viol cracks, and with +a cry the Fool flings himself, heart-broken, on +the empty couch. Cesario steps forward and +stands over him, touching his shoulder gently._ + +CURTAIN. + + + + +POEMS + + + + +EXMOOR VERSES + +I. VASHTI'S SONG + + +Over the rim of the Moor, + And under the starry sky, +Two men came to my door + And rested them thereby. + +Beneath the bough and the star, + In a whispering foreign tongue, +They talked of a land afar + And the merry days so young! + +Beneath the dawn and the bough + I heard them arise and go: +And my heart it is aching now + For the more it will never know. + +Why did they two depart + Before I could understand? +Where lies that land, O my heart? + --O my heart, where lies that land? + + + +II. SATURN + + +From my farm, from hèr farm + Furtively we came. +In either home a hearth was warm: + We nursed a hungrier flame. + +Our feet were foul with mire, + Our faces blind with mist; +But all the night was naked fire + About us where we kiss'd. + +To her farm, to my farm, + Loathing we returned; +Pale beneath a gallow's arm + The planet Saturn burned. + + + +III. DERELICTION + + +O'er the tears that we shed, dear + The bitter vines twist, +And the hawk and the red deer + They keep where we kiss'd: +All broken lies the shieling + That sheltered from rain, +With a star to pierce the ceiling, + And the dawn an empty pane. + +Thro' the mist, up the moorway, + Fade hunters and pack; +From the ridge to thy doorway + Happy voices float back ... +O, between the threads o' mist, love, + Reach your hands from the house. +Only mind that we kiss'd, love, + And forget the broken vows! + + + + +TWO FOLK SONGS + +I. THE SOLDIER + +(_Roumanian_) + + +_When winter trees bestrew the path, + Still to the twig a leaf or twain +Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath, + But that foreknown forlorner pain-- + To fall when green leaves come again._ + +I watch'd him sleep by the furrow-- + The first that fell in the fight. +His grave they would dig to-morrow: + The battle called them to-night. + +They bore him aside to the trees, there, + By his undigg'd grave content +To lie on his back at ease there, + And hark how the battle went. + +The battle went by the village, + And back through the night were borne +Far cries of murder and pillage, + With smoke from the standing corn. + +But when they came on the morrow, + They talk'd not over their task, +As he listen'd there by the furrow; + For the dead mouth could not ask-- + +_How went the battle, my brothers?_ + But that he will never know: +For his mouth the red earth smothers + As they shoulder their spades and go. + +Yet he cannot sleep thereunder, + But ever must toss and turn. +_How went the battle, I wonder?_ + --And that he will never learn! + +_When winter trees bestrew the path, + Still to the twig a leaf or twain +Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath, + But that foreknown, forlorner pain-- +To fall when green leaves come again!_ + + + +II. THE MARINE + +(_Poitevin_) + + +The bold Marine comes back from war, + So kind: +The bold Marine comes back from war, + So kind: +With a raggety coat and a worn-out shoe. +"Now, poor Marine, say, whence come you, + All so kind?" + +I travel back from the war, madame, + So kind: +I travel back from the war, madame, + So kind: +For a glass of wine and a bowl of whey, +'Tis I will sing you a ballad gay, + All so kind. + +The bold Marine he sips his whey, + So kind: +He sips and he sings his ballad gay, + So kind: +But the dame she turns toward the wall, +To wipe her tears that fall and fall, + All so kind. + +What aileth you at my song, madame, + So kind? +I hope that I sing no wrong, madame, + So kind? + +Or grieves it you a beggar should dine +On a bowl of whey and the good white wine, + All so kind? + +It ails me not at your ballad gay, + So kind: +It ails me not for the wine and whey, + So kind: + +But it ails me sore for the voice and eyes +Of a good man long in Paradise.-- + Ah, so kind! + +You have fair children five, madame, + So kind: +You have fair children five, madame, + So kind: + +Your good man left you children three; +Whence came these twain for company, + All so kind? + +"A letter came from the war, Marine, + So kind: +A letter came from the war, Marine, + So kind: +A while I wept for the good man dead, +But another good man in a while I wed, + All so kind." + +The bold Marine he drained his glass, + So kind: +The bold Marine he drained his glass, + So kind. +He said not a word, though the tears they flowed, +But back to his regiment took the road, + All so kind. + + + + +MARY LESLIE + + +_Before Vittoria, June_ 20, 1813 + + +O Mary Leslie, blithe and shrill + The bugles blew for Spain: +And you below the Castle Hill + Stood in the crowd your lane. +Then hearts were wild to watch us pass, + Yet laith to let us go! +While mine said, "Fare-ye-well, my lass!" + And yours, "God keep my Jo!" + +Here by the bivouac fire, above + These fields of savage play, +I'll lift my love to meet thy love + Twa thousand miles away, + +Where yonder, yonder by the stars, + Nightlong there rins a burn, +And maids with lovers at the wars + May list their wraiths' return. + +More careless yet my spirit grows + Of fame, more sick of blood: +But I can think of Badajoz, + And yet that God is good. +Beyond the siege, beyond the stour, + Beyond the sack of towns, +I reach to pluck ae lily-floo'r + Where leaders press for crowns. + +O Mary! lily! bow'd and wet + With mair than mornin's rain! +The bugles up the Lawnmarket + Shall sound us home again. + +Then fare-ye-well, these foreign lands, + And be damn'd their bitter drouth. +With your dear face between my hands + And the cup held to my mouth, + My love, +It's clean cup to my mouth! + + + + +JENIFER'S LOVE + + +Small is my secret--let it pass-- + Small in your life the share I had, +Who sat beside you in the class, + Awed by the bright superior lad: + Whom yet with hot and eager face + I prompted when he missed his place. + +For you the call came swift and soon: + But sometimes in your holidays +You meet me trudging home at noon + To dinner through the dusty ways, + And recognized, and with a nod + Passed on, but never guessed--thank God! + +Truly our ways were separate. + I bent myself to hoe and drill, + +Yea, with an honest man to mate, + Fulfilling God Almighty's will; + And bore him children. But my prayers + Were yours--and, only after, theirs. + +While you--still loftier, more remote, + You sprang from stair to stair of fame, +And you've a riband on your coat, + And you've a title to your name; + But have you yet a star to shine + Above your bed, as I o'er mine? + + + + +TWO DUETS + + +_From "Arion," an unpublished Masque_ + +I + + +_He._ Aglai-a! Aglai-a! + Sweet, awaken and be glad. +_She._ Who is this that calls Aglaia? + Is it thou, my dearest lad? +_He._ 'Tis Arion, 'tis Arion, + Who calls thee from sleep-- + From slumber who bids thee + To follow and number + His kids and his sheep. +_She._ Nay, leave to entreat me! + If mother should spy on + Us twain, she would beat me. +_He._ Then come, my love, come! + And hide with Arion + Where green woods are dumb! + +_She._ Ar-i-on! Ar-i-on! + Closer, list! I am afraid! + +_He._ Whisper, then, thy love Arion, + From thy window, lily maid. + +_She._ Yet Aglaia, yet Aglaia + Hath heard them debate + Of wooing repenting-- + "Who trust to undoing, + Lament them too late." + +_He._ Nay, nay, when I woo thee, + Thy mother might spy on + All harm I shall do thee. + +_She._ I come, then--I come! + To follow Arion + Where green woods be dumb. + + + + +SONG + + Sparrow of Love, so sharp to peck, + Arrow of Love--I bare my neck + Down to the bosom. See, no fleck + + Of blood! I have never a wound; I go + Forth to the greenwood. Yet, heigh-ho! + What 'neath my girdle flutters so? + + 'Tis not a bird, and yet hath wings, + 'Tis not an arrow, yet it stings; + While in the wound it nests and sings-- + Heigh-ho! + +_He._ Of Arion, of Arion + That wound thou shalt learn; + What nothings 'tis made of, + And soft pretty soothings + In shade of the fern. + +_She._ When maids have a mind to, + Man's word they rely on, + Old warning are blind to-- + I come, then--I come + To walk with Arion + Where green woods are dumb! + + + II + + +_He._ Dear my love, and O my love, + And O my love so lately! + Did we wander yonder grove + And sit awhile sedately? + For either you did there conclude + To do at length as I did, + Or passion's fashion's turn'd a prude, + And troth's an oath derided. + +_She._ Yea, my love--and nay, my love-- + And ask me not to tell, love, + While I delay'd an idle day + What 'twixt us there befell, love. + Yet either I did sit beside + And do at length as you did, + Or my delight is lightly by + An idle lie deluded! + + + + +THE STATUES AND THE TEAR + + + All night a fountain pleads, + Telling her beads, +Her tinkling beads monotonous 'neath the moon; + And where she springs atween, + Two statues lean-- +Two Kings, their marble beards with moonlight + strewn. + + Till hate had frozen speech, + Each hated each, +Hated and died, and went unto his place: + And still inveterate + They lean and hate +With glare of stone implacable, face to face. + +One, who bade set them here + In stone austere, +To both was dear, and did not guess at all: + Yet with her new-wed lord + Walking the sward +Paused, and for two dead friends a tear let fall. + + She turn'd and went her way. + Yet in the spray +The shining tear attempts, but cannot lie. + Night-long the fountain drips, + But even slips +Untold that one bead of her rosary: + While they, who know it would + Lie if it could, +Lean on and hate, watching it, eye to eye. + + + + +NUPTIAL NIGHT + + +Hush! and again the chatter of the starling + Athwart the lawn! +Lean your head close and closer. O my darling!-- + It is the dawn. +Dawn in the dusk of her dream, + Dream in the hush of her bosom, unclose! +Bathed in the eye-bright beam, + Blush to her cheek, be a blossom, a rose! + +Go, nuptial night! the floor of Ocean tressing + With moon and star; +With benediction go and breathe thy blessing + On coasts afar. + +Hark! the theorbos thrum + O'er the arch'd wave that in white smother booms +"Mother of Mystery, come! + Fain for thee wait other brides, other grooms!" + +Go, nuptial night, my breast of hers bereaving! + Yet, O, tread soft! +Grow day, blithe day, the mountain shoulder heaving + More gold aloft! +Gold, rose, bird of the dawn, + All to her balcony gather unseen-- +Thrill through the curtain drawn, + Bless her, bedeck her, and bathe her, my Queen! + + + + +HESPERUS + + +Down in the street the last late hansoms go + Still westward, but with backward eyes of red + The harlot shuffles to her lonely bed; +The tall policeman pauses but to throw +A flash into the empty portico; + Then he too passes, and his lonely tread + Links all the long-drawn gas-lights on a thread +And ties them to one planet swinging low. + +O Hesperus! O happy star! to bend + O'er Helen's bosom in the trancèd west-- + To watch the hours heave by upon her breast +And at her parted lip for dreams attend: + If dawn defraud thee, how shall I be deem'd. + Who house within that bosom, and am dreamed? + + + + +CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE + + +Who lives in suit of armour pent + And hides himself behind a wall, +For him is not the great event, + The garland nor the Capitol. +And is God's guerdon less than they? + Nay, moral man, I tell thee Nay: +Nor shall the flaming forts be won + By sneaking negatives alone, +By Lenten fast or Ramazàn; + But by the challenge proudly thrown-- +_Virtue is that becrowns a Man!_ + +God, in His Palace resident + Of Bliss, beheld our sinful ball, +And charged His own Son innocent + Us to redeem from Adam's fall. + +"Yet must it be that men Thee slay." +"Yea, tho' it must, must I obey," +Said Christ; and came, His royal Son, +To die, and dying to atone + For harlot, thief, and publican. +Read on that rood He died upon-- + _Virtue is that becrowns a Man!_ + +Beneath that rood where He was bent + I saw the world's great captains all +Pass riding home from tournament + Adown the road from Roncesvalles-- +Lord Charlemagne, in one array +Lords Caesar, Cyrus, Attila, +Lord Alisaundre of Macedon ... +With flame on lance and habergeon + They passed, and to the rataplan +Of drums gave salutation-- + _"Virtue is that becrowns a Man!"_ +Had tall Achilles lounged in tent + For aye, and Xanthus neigh'd in stall, +The towers of Troy had ne'er been shent, + Nor stay'd the dance in Priam's hall. +Bend o'er thy book till thou be grey, +Read, mark, perpend, digest, survey, +Instruct thee deep as Solomon, +One only chapter thou canst con, + One lesson learn, one sentence scan, +One title and one colophon-- + _Virtue is that becrowns a Man!_ + +High Virtue's best is eloquent + With spur and not with martingall: +Swear not to her thou'rt continent: + BE COURTEOUS, BRAVE, AND LIBERAL. +God fashion'd thee of chosen clay +For service, nor did ever say, +"Deny thee this," "Abstain from yon," +But to inure thee, thew and bone. + To be confirmèd of the clan +That made immortal Marathon-- + _Virtue is that becrowns a Man!_ + + + ENVOY + + +Young Knight, the lists are set to-day! +Hereafter shall be time to pray +In sepulture, with hands of stone. +Ride, then! outride the bugle blown! + And gaily dinging down the van, +Charge with a cheer--_"Set on! Set on! + Virtue is that becrowns a Man!"_ + + + + +CORONATION HYMN + + + _Tune_--Luther's Chorale + "Ein' feste burg ist unser Gott" + + I + +Of old our City hath renown. + Of God are her foundations, +Wherein this day a King we crown + Elate among the nations. + Acknowledge, then, thou King-- + And you, ye people, sing-- + What deeds His arm hath wrought: + Yea, let their tale be taught + To endless generations. + + II + +So long, so far, Jehovah guides + His people's path attending, +By pastures green and water-sides + Toward His hill ascending; + Whence they beneath the stars + Shall view their ancient wars, + Their perils, far removed. + O might of mercy proved! + O love past comprehending! + + III + +He was that God, for man which spake + From Sinai forth in thunder; +He was that Love, for man which brake + The dreadful grave asunder. + Lord over every lord, + His consecrating word + An earthly prince awaits; + Lift then your heads, ye gates! + Your King comes riding under. + +IV + +Be ye lift up, ye deathless doors; + Let wave your banners o'er Him! +Exult, ye streets; be strewn, ye floors, + With palm, with bay, before Him! + With transport fetch Him in, + Ye ransom'd folk from sin-- + Your Lord, return'd to bless! + O kneeling king, confess-- + O subject men, adore Him! + + + + +THREE MEN OF TRURO + +I + +E. W. B. + +_Archbishop of Canterbury: sometime the First Bishop +of Truro. October_ 1896 + + The Church's outpost on a neck of land-- + By ebb of faith the foremost left the last-- + Dull, starved of hope, we watched the driven sand + Blown through the hour-glass, covering our past, + Counting no hours to our relief--no hail + Across the hills, and on the sea no sail! + + Sick of monotonous days we lost account, + In fitful dreams remembering days of old +And nights--th' erect Archangel on the Mount + With sword that drank the dawn; the Vase of Gold + The moving Grail athwart the starry fields + Where all the heavenly spearmen clashed their + shields. + + In dereliction by the deafening shore + We sought no more aloft, but sunk our eyes, + Probing the sea for food, the earth for ore. + Ah, yet had one good soldier of the skies + Burst through the wrack reporting news of them, + How had we run and kissed his garment's hem! + + Nay, but he came! Nay, but he stood and cried, + Panting with joy and the fierce fervent race, + "Arm, arm! for Christ returns!"--and all our pride, + Our ancient pride, answered that eager face: + "Repair His battlements!--Your Christ is near!" + And, half in dream, we raised the soldiers' cheer. + +Far, as we flung that challenge, fled the ghosts-- + Back, as we built, the obscene foe withdrew-- + High to the song of hammers sang the hosts + Of Heaven--and lo! the daystar, and a new + Dawn with its chalice and its wind as wine; + And youth was hope, and life once more divine! + + * * * * * + + Day, and hot noon, and now the evening glow, + And 'neath our scaffolding the city spread + Twilit, with rain-wash'd roofs, and--hark!--below, + One late bell tolling. "Dead? Our Captain dead?" + Nay, here with us he fronts the westering sun + With shaded eyes and counts the wide fields won. + + Aloft with us! And while another stone + Swings to its socket, haste with trowel and hod! + Win the old smile a moment ere, alone, + Soars the great soul to bear report to God. + Night falls; but thou, dear Captain, from thy star + Look down, behold how bravely goes the war! + + + + +II + +A. B. D. + +_Canon Residentiary and Precentor of Truro +December_ 1903 + + Many had builded, and, the building done, + Through our adornèd gates with din + Came Prince and Priest, with pipe and clarion + Leading the right God in. + + Yet, had the perfect temple quickened then + And whispered us between our song, + _"Give God the praise. To whom of living men + Shall next our thanks belong?"_ + + Then had the few, the very few, that wist + His Atlantean labour, swerved + Their eyes to seek, and in the triumph missed, + The man that most deserved. + +He only of us was incorporate + In all that fabric; stone by stone + Had built his life in her, had made his fate + And her perfection one; + + Given all he had; and now--when all was given-- + Far spent, within a private shade, + Heard the loud organ pealing praise to Heaven, + And learned why man is made.-- + + To break his strength, yet always to be brave; + To preach, and act, the Crucified ... + Sweep by, O Prince and Prelate, up the nave, + And fill it with your pride! + + Better than ye what made th' old temples great, + Because he loved, he understood; + Indignant that his darling, less in state, + Should lack a martyr's blood. + +She hath it now. O mason, strip away + Her scaffolding, the flower disclose! + Lay by the tools with his o'er-wearied clay-- + But She shall bloom unto its Judgment Day, + His ever-living Rose! + + +III + +C. W. S. + +_The Fourth Bishop of Truro +May_ 1912 + + Prince of courtesy defeated, + Heir of hope untimely cheated, + Throned awhile he sat, and, seated, + + Saw his Cornish round him gather; + "Teach us how to live, good Father!" + How to die he taught us rather: + +Heard the startling trumpet sound him, + Smiled upon the feast around him, + Rose, and wrapp'd his coat, and bound him + + When beyond the awful surges, + Bathed in dawn on Syrian verges, + God! thy star, thy Cross emerges. + +_And so sing we all to it--_ + + Crux, in coelo lux superna, + Sis in carnis hac taberna + Mihi pedibus lucerna: + + Quo vexillum dux cohortis + Sistet, super flumen Mortis, + Te, flammantibus in portis! + + + + +ALMA MATER + + _Know you her secret none can utter?_ + Hers of the Book, the tripled Crown? + Still on the spire the pigeons flutter, + Still by the gateway flits the gown; + Still on the street, from corbel and gutter, + Faces of stone look down. + + Faces of stone, and stonier faces-- + Some from library windows wan + Forth on her gardens, her green spaces, + Peer and turn to their books anon. + Hence, my Muse, from the green oases + Gather the tent, begone! + +Nay, should she by the pavement linger + Under the rooms where once she played, + Who from the feast would rise to fling her + One poor _sou_ for her serenade? + One short laugh for the antic finger + Thrumming a lute-string frayed? + + Once, my dear--but the world was young then-- + Magdalen elms and Trinity limes-- + Lissom the blades and the backs that swung then, + Eight good men in the good old times-- + Careless we, and the chorus flung then + Under St Mary's chimes! + + Reins lay loose and the ways led random-- + Christ Church meadow and Iffley track, + "Idleness horrid and dog-cart" (tandem), + Aylesbury grind and Bicester pack-- + Pleasant our lines, and faith! we scanned 'em: + Having that artless knack. + +Come, old limmer, the times grow colder; + Leaves of the creeper redden and fall. + Was it a hand then clapped my shoulder?-- + Only the wind by the chapel wall! + Dead leaves drift on the lute ... So, fold her + Under the faded shawl. + + Never we wince, though none deplore us, + We who go reaping that we sowed; + Cities at cock-crow wake before us-- + Hey, for the lilt of the London road! + One look back, and a rousing chorus! + Never a palinode! + + Still on her spire the pigeons hover; + Still by her gateway haunts the gown. + Ah! but her secret? You, young lover, + Drumming her old ones forth from town, + Know you the secret none discover? + Tell it--when _you_ go down. + +Yet if at length you seek her, prove her, + Lean to her whispers never so nigh; + Yet if at last not less her lover + You in your hansom leave the High; + Down from her towers a ray shall hover-- + Touch you, a passer-by! + + + + +CHRISTMAS EVE + + Friend, old friend in the Manse by the fireside sitting, + Hour by hour while the grey ash drips from the log; + You with a book on your knee, your wife with her knitting, + Silent both, and between you, silent, the dog. + + Silent here in the south sit I; and, leaning, + One sits watching the fire, with chin upon hand; + Gazes deep in its heart--but ah! its meaning + Rather I read in the shadows and understand. + + Dear, kind she is; and daily dearer, kinder, + Love shuts the door on the lamp and our two selves: + +Not my stirring awakened the flame that behind her + Lit up a face in the leathern dusk of the shelves. + + Veterans are my books, with tarnished gilding: + Yet there is one gives back to the winter grate + Gold of a sunset flooding a college building, + Gold of an hour I waited--as now I wait-- + + For a light step on the stair, a girl's low laughter, + Rustle of silk, shy knuckles tapping the oak, + Dinner and mirth upsetting my rooms and, after, + Music, waltz upon waltz, till the June day broke. + + Where is her laughter now? Old tarnished covers-- + You that reflect her with fresh young face unchanged-- + Tell that we met, that we parted, not as lovers; + Time, chance, brought us together, and these estranged. + + + + +Loyal were we to the mood of the moment granted, + Bruised not its bloom, but danced on the wave of its joy; + Passion--wisdom--fell back like a fence enchanted, + Ringing a floor for us both--whole Heaven for the boy! + + Where is she now? Regretted not, though departed, + Blessings attend and follow her all her days! + --Look to your hound: he dreams of the hares he started, + Whines, and awakes, and stretches his limbs to the blaze. + + Far old friend in the Manse, by the green ash peeling + Flake by flake from the heat in the Yule log's core, + Look past the woman you love. On wall and ceiling + Climbs not a trellis of roses--and ghosts--of yore? + +Thoughts, thoughts! Whistle them back like hounds returning-- + Mark how her needles pause at a sound upstairs. + Time for bed, and to leave the log's heart burning! + Give ye good-night, but first thank God in your prayers! + + + + +THE ROOT + + + Deep, Love, yea, very deep. + And in the dark exiled, +I have no sense of light but still to creep +And know the breast, but not the eyes. Thy child +Saw ne'er his mother near, nor if she smiled; + But only feels her weep. + + Yet clouds and branches green + There be aloft, somewhere, +And winds, and angel birds that build between, +As I believe--and I will not despair; +For faith is evidence of things not seen. + Love! if I could be there! + +I will be patient, dear. + Perchance some part of me +Puts forth aloft and feels the rushing year +And shades the bird, and is that happy tree +Then were it strength to serve and not appear, + And bliss, though blind, to be. + + + + +TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME A BOX OF VIOLETS + + +Nay, more than violets +These thoughts of thine, friend! +Rather thy reedy brook-- +Taw's tributary-- +At midnight murmuring, +Descried them, the delicate +Dark-eyed goddesses, +There by his cressy bed +Dissolved and dreaming +Dreams that distilled into dew +All the purple of night, +All the shine of a planet. + +Whereat he whispered; +And they arising-- + +Of day's forget-me-nots +The duskier sisters-- +Descended, relinquished +The orchard, the trout-pool, +Torridge and Tamar, +The Druid circles, +Sheepfolds of Dartmoor, +Granite and sandstone; +By Roughtor, Dozmare, +Down the vale of the Fowey +Moving in silence, +Brushing the nightshade +By bridges cyclopean, +By Trevenna, Treverbyn, +Lawharne and Largin, +By Glynn, Lanhydrock, +Restormel, Lostwithiel, +Dark wood, dim water, dreaming town; +Down the vale of the Fowey +To the tidal water +Washing the feet +Of fair St Winnow-- +Each, in her exile +Musing the message, +Passed, as the starlit +Shadow of Ruth from the land of the Moabite. + +So they came, +Valley-born, valley-nurtured-- +Came to the tideway +The jetties, the anchorage, +The salt wind piping, +Snoring in Equinox, +By ships at anchor, +By quays tormented, +Storm-bitten streets; +Came to the Haven +Crying, "Ah, shelter us, +The strayed ambassadors, +Love's lost legation +On a comfortless coast!" + +Nay, but a little sleep, +A little folding +Of petals to the lull +Of quiet rainfalls-- +Here in my garden, +In angle sheltered +From north and east wind-- +Softly shall recreate +The courage of charity, +Henceforth not to me only +Breathing the message. + +Clean-breath'd Sirens! +Hencefore the mariner. + + + + +TO A FRIEND + + +Here in the fairway +Fetching--foul of keel, +Long-stray but fortunate-- +Out of the fogs, the vast +Atlantic solitudes. +Shall, by the hawser-pin +Waiting the signal +_Leave--go--anchor!_ +Scent the familiar, +The unforgettable +Fragrance of home; +So in a long breath +Bless us unknowing: +Bless them, the violets, +Bless me, the gardener, +Bless thee, the giver. + + + + +OF THREE CHILDREN + +OF THREE CHILDREN CHOOSING +A CHAPLET OF VERSE + + +You and I and Burd so blithe-- + Burd so blithe, and you, and I-- +The Mower he would whet his scythe + Before the dew was dry. + +And he woke soon, but we woke soon + And drew the nursery blind, +All wondering at the waning moon + With the small June roses twined: +Low in her cradle swung the moon + With an elfin dawn behind. + +In whispers, while our elders slept, + We knelt and said our prayers, +And dress'd us and on tiptoe crept + Adown the creaking stairs. + +The world's possessors lay abed, + And all the world was ours-- +"Nay, nay, but hark! the Mower's tread! + And we must save the flowers!" + +The Mower knew not rest nor haste-- + That old unweary man: +But we were young. We paused and raced + And gather'd while we ran. + +O youth is careless, youth is fleet, + With heart and wing of bird! +The lark flew up beneath our feet, + To his copse the pheasant whirr'd; + +The cattle from their darkling lairs + Heaved up and stretch'd themselves; +Almost they trod at unawares + Upon the busy elves + +That dropp'd their spools of gossamer, + To dangle and to dry, +And scurried home to the hollow fir + Where the white owl winks an eye. + +Nor you, nor I, nor Burd so blithe + Had driven them in this haste; +But the old, old man, so lean and lithe, + That afar behind us paced; +So lean and lithe, with shoulder'd scythe, + And a whetstone at his waist. + +Within the gate, in a grassy round + Whence they had earliest flown, +He upside-down'd his scythe, and ground + Its edge with careful hone. +But we heeded not, if we heard, the sound, + For the world was ours alone; +The world was ours!--and with a bound + The conquering Sun upshone! + +And while as from his level ray + We stood our eyes to screen. +The world was not as yesterday + Our homelier world had been-- +So grey and golden-green it lay + All in his quiet sheen, +That wove the gold into the grey, + The grey into the green. +Sure never hand of Puck, nor wand + Of Mab the fairies' queen, +Nor prince nor peer of fairyland +Had power to weave that wide riband + Of the grey, the gold, the green. + +But the Gods of Greece had been before + And walked our meads along, +The great authentic Gods of yore +That haunt the earth from shore to shore + Trailing their robes of song. + +And where a sandall'd foot had brush'd, + And where a scarfed hem, +The flowers awoke from sleep and rush'd + Like children after them. + +Pell-mell they poured by vale and stream, + By lawn and steepy brae-- +"O children, children! while you dream, + Your flowers run all away!" + +But afar and abed and sleepily + The children heard us call; +And Burd so blithe and you and I + Must be gatherers for all. + +The meadow-sweet beside the hedge, + The dog-rose and the vetch, +The sworded iris 'mid the sedge, + The mallow by the ditch-- + +With these, and by the wimpling burn, + Where the midges danced in reels, +With the watermint and the lady fern + We brimm'd out wicker creels: + +Till, all so heavily they weigh'd, + On a bank we flung us down, +Shook out our treasures 'neath the shade + And wove this Triple Crown. + +Flower after flower--for some there were + The noonday heats had dried, +And some were dear yet could not bear + A lovelier cheek beside, +And some were perfect past compare-- +Ah, darlings! what a world of care + It cost us to decide! + +Natheless we sang in sweet accord, + Each bending o'er her brede-- +"O there be flowers in Oxenford, + And flowers be north of Tweed, +And flowers there be on earthly sward + That owe no mortal seed!" + +And these, the brightest that we wove, + Were Innocence and Truth, +And holy Peace and angel Love, + Glad Hope and gentle Ruth. +Ah, bind them fast with triple twine +Of Memory, the wild woodbine +That still, being human, stays divine, + And alone is age's youth!... + +But hark! but look! the warning rook + Wings home in level flight; +The children tired with play and book + Have kiss'd and call'd Good-night! + +Ah, sisters, look! What fields be these + That lie so sad and shorn? +What hand has cut our coppices, +And thro' the trimm'd, the ruin'd, trees + Lets wail a wind forlorn? + +'Tis Time, 'tis Time has done this crime + And laid our meadows waste-- +The bent unwearied tyrant Time, + That knows nor rest nor haste. + +Yet courage, children; homeward bring + Your hearts, your garlands high; +For we have dared to do a thing + That shall his worst defy. + +We cannot nail the dial's hand; + We cannot bind the sun +By Gibeon to stay and stand, + Or the moon o'er Ajalon; + +We cannot blunt th' abhorred shears, + Nor shift the skeins of Fate, +Nor say unto the posting years + "Ye shall not desolate." + +We cannot cage the lion's rage, + Nor teach the turtle-dove +Beside what well his moan to tell + Or to haunt one only grove; +But the lion's brood will range for food + As the fledged bird will rove. + +And east and west we three may wend-- + Yet we a wreath have wound +For us shall wind withouten end + The wide, wide world around: + +Be it east or west, and ne'er so far, +In east or west shall peep no star, +No blossom break from ground, +But minds us of the wreath we wove +Of innocence and holy love + That in the meads we found, +And handsell'd from the Mower's scythe, +And bound with memory's living withe-- +You and I and Burd so blithe-- + Three maidens on a mound: +And all of happiness was ours +Shall find remembrance 'mid the flowers, +Shall take revival from the flowers + And by the flowers be crown'd. + + + + +EPILOGUE + +TO A MOTHER, ON SEEING HER SMILE REPEATED +IN HER DAUGHTER'S EYES + + +A thousand songs I might have made + Of You, and only You; +A thousand thousand tongues of fire +That trembled down a golden wire + To lamp the night with stars, to braid +The morning bough with dew. + +Within the greenwood girl and boy + Had loiter'd to their lure, +And men in cities closed their books +To dream of Spring and running brooks +And all that ever was of joy + For manhood to abjure. + +And I'd have made them strong, so strong + Outlasting towers and towns-- +Millennial shepherds 'neath the thorn +Had piped them to a world reborn, +And danced Delight the dale along + And up the daisied downs. + +A thousand songs I might have made... + But you required them not; +Content to reign your little while +Ere, abdicating with a smile, +You pass'd into a shade, a shade + Immortal--and forgot! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Vigil of Venus and Other Poems by "Q", by Q + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIGIL OF VENUS *** + +***** This file should be named 10133-8.txt or 10133-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/1/3/10133/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Sjaani and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Vigil of Venus and Other Poems by "Q" + (AKA: Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch) + +Author: Q + +Release Date: November 19, 2003 [EBook #10133] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIGIL OF VENUS *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Sjaani and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + +</pre> + +<table width="80%" border="0" align="center" cellspacing="10"> + <tr> + <td> + +<h1 align="center">THE VIGIL OF VENUS</h1> +<h2 align="center">AND OTHER POEMS BY</h2> +<h2 align="center">"Q"</h2> +<h3 align="center">First Published, August 22nd, 1912<br /> + Second Edition, 1912</h3> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> +<p> +<strong>TO MAURICE HEWLETT</strong> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">HEWLETT! as ship to ship</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Let us the ensign dip.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">There may be who despise</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">For dross our merchandise,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Our balladries, our bales</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Of woven tales;</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Yet, Hewlett, the glad gales</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Favonian! And what spray</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Our dolphins toss'd in play,</span><br /> +Full in old Triton's beard, on Iris' shimmering veils!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Scant tho' the freight of gold</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Commercial in our hold,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Pæstum, Eridanus</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Perchance have barter'd us</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">'Bove chrematistic care</span><br /> +</p> + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<p><a href="#vigilvenus">THE VIGIL OF VENUS</a><br /> +<a href="#pervigilium">PERVIGILIUM VENERIS</a><br /> +<a href="#regent">THE REGENT—A DRAMA IN ONE ACT</a><br /> + +<a href="#poems">POEMS</a><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#exmoor">EXMOOR VERSES</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#vashti">VASHTI'S SONG</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#saturn">SATURN</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#dereliction">DERELICTION</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#folksong">TWO FOLK SONGS</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#soldier">THE SOLDIER</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#marine">THE MARINE</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#maryleslie">MARY LESLIE</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#jenslove">JENIFER'S LOVE</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#twoduets">TWO DUETS</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#statutear">THE STATUES AND THE TEAR</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#nuptial">NUPTIAL NIGHT</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#hesperus">HESPERUS</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#royalvirtue">CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#coronation">CORONATION HYMN</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#truro">THREE MEN OF TRURO</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#almamater">ALMA MATER</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#christmas">CHRISTMAS EVE</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#theroot">THE ROOT</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#violets">TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME A BOX OF VIOLETS</a></span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><a href="#children">OF THREE CHILDREN CHOOSING A CHAPLET OF VERSE</a></span><br /> +<a href="#smileyes">EPILOGUE: TO A MOTHER, ON SEEING HER SMILE REPEATED +IN HER DAUGHTER'S EYES</a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<a name="vigilvenus"></a><h2>THE VIGIL OF VENUS</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The <i>Pervigilium Veneris</i>—of unknown authorship, but clearly belonging +to the late literature of the Roman Empire—has survived in two MSS., +both preserved at Paris in the <i>Bibliothèque Nationale</i>.</p> + +<p>Of these two MSS. the better written may be assigned (at earliest) to +the close of the seventh century; the other (again at earliest) to the +close of the ninth. Both are corrupt; the work of two illiterate +copyists who—strange to say—were both smatterers enough to betray +their little knowledge by converting <i>Pervigilium</i> into <i>Per Virgilium</i> +(<i>scilicet</i>, "by Virgil"): thus helping us to follow the process of +thought by which the Middle Ages turned Virgil into a wizard. Here and +there the texts become quite silly, separately or in consent; and just +where they agree in the most surprising way—<i>i.e.</i> in the arrangement +of the lines—the conjectural emendator is invited to do his worst by a +note at the head of the older Codex, "Sunt vero versus xxii"—"There are +rightly twenty-two lines."</p> + +<p>This has started much ingenious guess-work. But no really convincing +rearrangement has been achieved as yet; and I have been content to take +the text pretty well as it stands, with a few corrections upon which +most scholars agree. With a poem of "paratactic structure" the best of +us may easily go astray by transposing lines, or blocks of lines, to +correspond with <i>our</i> sequence of thought; and I shall be content if, +following the only texts to which appeal can be made,[1] my translation +be generally intelligible.</p> + +<p>It runs pretty closely, line for line, with the original; because one +may love and emulate classical terseness even while despairing to rival +it. But it does not attempt to be literal; for even were it worth doing, +I doubt if it be possible for anyone in our day to hit precisely the +note intended by an author or heard by a reader in the eighth century. +Men change subtly as nations succeed to nations, religions to religions, +philosophies to philosophies; and it is a property of immortal poetry to +shift its appeal. It does not live by continuing to mean the some thing. +It grows as we grow. We smile, for instance, when some interlocutor in a +dialogue of Plato takes a line from the <i>Iliad</i> and applies it seriously +<i>au pied de la lettre</i>. We can hardly conceive what the great line +conveyed to him; but it may mean something equally serious to us, though +in a different way.</p> + +<p>[1] Facsimiles of the two Codices can be studied in a careful edition of +the <i>Pervigilum</i> by Mr Cecil Clementi, published by Mr B.H. Blackwell of +Oxford, 1911.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<a name="pervigilium"></a><h2>PERVIGILIUM VENERIS</h2> + +<p><i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet</i>.<br /> +Ver novum, ver jam canorurn, vere natus orbis est;<br /> +Vere concordant amores, vere nubunt alites,<br /> +Et nemus comam resolvit de maritis imbribus.<br /> +Cras amorum copulatrix inter umbras arborum 5<br /> +Inplicat casas virentes de flagello myrteo:<br /> +Cras Dione jura dicit fulta sublimi throno.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet</i>.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p><i>To-morrow—What news of to-morrow?<br /> +Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew</i>!<br /> +It is Spring, it is chorussing Spring; 'tis the birthday of Earth, and for you!<br /> +It is Spring; and the Loves and the birds wing together and woo to accord<br /> +Where the bough to the rain has unbraided her locks as a bride to her lord.<br /> +For she walks—she our Lady, our Mistress of Wedlock—the woodlands atween, 5<br /> +And the bride-bed she weaves them, with myrtle enlacing, with curtains of green.<br /> +Look aloft! list the law of Dione, sublime and enthroned in the blue:<br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew</i>!</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Tunc liquore de superno spumeo et ponti globo,<br /> +Cærulas inter catervas, inter et bipedes equos, 10<br /> +Fecit undantem Dionen de maritis imbribus.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quiqiie amavit cras amet</i>.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Ipsa gemmis purpurantem pingit annum floribus,<br /> +Ipsa surgentes papillas de Favoni spiritu<br /> +Urget in toros tepentes; ipsa roris lucidi 15<br /> +Noctis aura quem relinquit, spargit umentes aquas.<br /> +Et micant lacrimæ trementes de caduco pondere:</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Time was that a rain-cloud begat her, impregning the heave of the deep,<br /> +'Twixt hooves of sea-horses a-scatter, stampeding the dolphins as sheep. 10<br /> +Lo! arose of that bridal Dione, rainbow'd and besprent of its dew!<br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew</i>!</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>She, she, with her gem-dripping finger enamels the wreath of the year;<br /> +She, she, when the maid-bud is nubile and swelling winds—whispers anear,<br /> +Disguising her voice in the Zephyr's—"So secret the bed! And thou shy?" 15<br /> +She, she, thro' the hush'd humid Midsummer night draws the dew from on high;<br /> +Dew bright with the tears of its origin, dew with its weight on the bough,</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Gutta præceps orbe parvo sustinet casus suos.<br /> +En, pudorem florulentæ prodiderunt purpuræ:<br /> +Umor ille quern serenis astra rorant noctibus 20<br /> +Mane virgineas papillas solvit umenti peplo.<br /> +Ipsa jussit mane ut udas virgines nubant rosæ;<br /> +Fusa Paphies de cruore deque Amoris osculis<br /> +Deque gemmis deque flammis deque solis purpuris,<br /> +Cras ruborem qui latebat veste tectus ignea 25<br /> +Unico marita nodo non pudebit solvere.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet</i>.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Misdoubting and clinging and trembling—"Now, now must I fall? Is it now?"<br /> +Star-fleck'd on the stem of the brier as it gathers and falters and flows,<br /> +Lo! its trail runs a ripple of fire on the nipple it bids be a rose, 20<br /> +Yet englobes it diaphanous, veil upon veil in a tiffany drawn<br /> +To bedrape the small virginal breasts yet unripe for the spousal of dawn;<br /> +Till the vein'd very vermeil of Venus, till Cupid's incarnadine kiss,<br /> +Till the ray of the ruby, the sunrise, ensanguine the bath of her bliss;<br /> +Till the wimple her bosom uncover, a tissue of fire to the view, 25<br /> +And the zone o'er the wrists of the lover slip down as they reach to undo.<br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew</i>!</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Ipsa nymphas diva luco jussit ire myrteo:<br /> +It puer comes puellis. Nee tamen credi potest<br /> +Esse Amorem feriatum, si sagittas vexerit. 30<br /> +Ite, nymphæ, posuit arma, feriatus est Amor;<br /> +Jussus est inermis ire, nudus ire jussus est,<br /> +Neu quid arcu, neu sagitta, neu quid igne Iæderet;<br /> +Sed tamen nymphse cavete, quod Cupido pulcher est;<br /> +Est in armis totus idem quando nudus est Amor! 35</p><br /> +<br /> +<p><i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit eras amet</i>.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Conpari Venus pudore mittit ad te virgines:</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>"Go, maidens," Our Lady commands, "while the myrtle is green in the groves,<br /> +Take the Boy to your escort." "But ah!" cry the maidens, "what trust is in Love's<br /> +Keeping holiday too, while he weareth his archery, tools of his trade?" 30<br /> +"Go! he lays them aside, an apprentice released; ye may wend unafraid.<br /> +See, I bid him disarm, he disarms; mother-naked I bid him to go,<br /> +And he goes mother-naked. What flame can he shoot without arrow or bow?"<br /> +Yet beware ye of Cupid, ye maidens! Beware most of all when he charms<br /> +As a child: for the more he runs naked, the more he's a strong man-at-arms. 35</p><br /> +<br /> +<p><i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew!<br /> +"Lady Dian"—Behold how demurely the damsels approach her and sue—</i> +</p> +<p>Una res est quam rogamus: cede, virgo Delia,<br /> +Ut nemus sit incruentum de ferinis stragibus.<br /> +Ipsa vellet ut venires, si deceret virginem: 40<br /> +Jam tribus choros videres feriatos noctibus<br /> +Congreges inter catervas ire per saltus tuos,<br /> +Floreas inter coronas, myrteas inter casas:<br /> +Nee Ceres nee Bacchus absunt, nee poetarum Deus;<br /> +De tenente tota nox est pervigilia canticis: 45<br /> +Regnet in silvis Dione; tu recede, Delia.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet</i>.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Hear Venus her only petition! Dear maiden of<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">Delos, depart!</span><br /><br /> +Let the forest be bloodless to-day, unmolested the<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">roe and the hart!</span><br /><br /> +Holy huntress, thyself she would bid be her guest, 40<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">could thy chastity stoop</span><br /><br /> +To approve of our revels, our dances—three<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">nights that we weave in a troop</span><br /><br /> +Arm-in-arm thro' thy sanctu'ries whirling, till faint<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">and dispersed in the grove</span><br /><br /> +We lie with thy lilies for chaplets, thy myrtles for<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">arbours of love:</span><br /><br /> +And Apollo, with Ceres and Bacchus to chorus—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">song, harvest, and wine—</span><br /><br /> +Hymns thee dispossess'd, "'Tis Dione who reigns! 45<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">Let Diana resign!"</span><br /><br /> +O, the wonderful nights of Dione! dark bough,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">with her star shining thro'!</span><br /><br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.75em;">loved, love anew!</span></i> +</p> +<p>Jussit Hyblæis tribunal stare diva floribus;<br /> +Præses ipsa jura dicit, adsederunt Gratiæ.<br /> +Hybla, totos funde floras quidquid annus adtulit; 50<br /> +Hybla, florum rumpe vestem quantus Ætnæ campus est.</p> +<p>Ruris hic erunt puellæ, vel puellæ montium,<br /> +Quæque silvas, quæque lucos, quæque fontes incolunt:</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Jussit omnes adsidere mater alitis dei,<br /> +Jussit et nudo puellas nil Amori credere. 55</p><br /> +<br /> +<p><i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet.</i><br /> +She has set up her court, has Our Lady, in Hybla,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">and deckt it with blooms:—</span><br /><br /> +With the Graces at hand for assessors Dione dispenses<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">her dooms.</span><br /><br /> +Now burgeon, O Hybla! put forth and abound, till 50<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Proserpina's field,</span><br /><br /> +To the foison thy lap overflowing its laurel of Sicily<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">yield.</span><br /><br /> +Call, assemble the nymphs—hamadryad and dryad—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">the echoes who court</span><br /><br /> +From the rock, who the rushes inhabit, in ripples<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">who swim and disport.</span><br /><br /> +"I admonish you maids—I, his mother, who suckled<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">the scamp ere he flew—</span><br /><br /> +An ye trust to the Boy flying naked, some pestilent 55<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">prank ye shall rue."</span><br /><br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">loved, love anew!</span></i> +</p> +<p>Et rigentibus virentes ducit umbras floribus:<br /> +Cras erit quum primus Æther copulavit nuptias,<br /> +Et pater totum creavit vernis annum nubibus,<br /> +In sinum maritus imber fluxit almæ conjugis, 60<br /> +Unde fetus mixtus omnes aleret magno corpore.<br /> +Ipsa venas atque mentem permeanti spiritu<br /> +Intus occultis gubernat procreatrix viribus,<br /> +Perque coelum, perque terras, perque pontum<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">subditum</span><br /><br /> +Pervium sui tenorem seminali tramite 65</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>She has coax'd her the shade of the hazel to cover<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">the wind-flower's birth.</span><br /><br /> +Since the day the Great Father begat it, descending<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">in streams upon Earth;</span><br /><br /> +When the Seasons were hid in his loins, and the<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Earth lay recumbent, a wife,</span><br /><br /> +To receive in the searching and genital shower the 60<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">soft secret of life.</span><br /><br /> +As the terrible thighs drew it down, and conceived,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">as the embryo ran</span><br /><br /> +Thoro' blood, thoro' brain, and the Mother gave all<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">to the making of man,</span><br /><br /> +She, she, our Dione, directed the seminal current to<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">creep,</span><br /><br /> +Penetrating, possessing, by devious paths all the<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">height, all the deep.</span><br /><br /> +She, of all procreation procuress, the share to the 65<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">furrow laid true;</span> +</p> +<p> +Inbuit, jussitque mundum nosse nascendi vias.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit<br /> +cras amet.</i></p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Ipsa Trojanos nepotes in Latinos transtulit,<br /> +Ipsa Laurentem puellam conjugem nato dedit;<br /> +Moxque Marti de sacello dat pudicam virginem; 70<br /> +Romuleas ipsa fecit cum Sabinis nuptias,<br /> +Unde Ramnes et Quirites proque prole posterum<br /> +Romuli matrem crearet et nepotem Cæsarem.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">amet.</span></i> +</p> +<p>She, she, to the womb drave the knowledge, and open'd the ecstasy through.<br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew!</i></p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Her favour it was fill'd the sail of the Trojan for Latium bound;<br /> +Her favour that won her Aeneas a bride on Laurentian ground,<br /> +And anon from the cloister inveigled the Virgin, the Vestal, to Mars; 70<br /> +As her wit by the wild Sabine rape recreated her Rome for its wars,<br /> +With the Ramnes, Quirites, together ancestrally proud as they drew<br /> +From Romulus down to our Caesar—last, best of that bone, of that thew.<br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew!</i></p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Rura fecundat voluptas: rura Venerem sentiunt: 75<br /> +Ipse Amor puer Dionse rure natus dicitur.<br /> +Hunc ager, cum parturiret ipsa, suscepit sinu:<br /> +Ipsa florum delicatis educavit osculis.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras,<br /> +amet</i>.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Ecce jam super genestas explicant tauri latus, 80<br /> +Quisque tutus quo tenetur conjugali foedere:<br /> +Subter umbras cum maritis ecce balantum greges;<br /> +Et canoras non tacere diva jussit alites.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Pleasure planteth a field; it conceives to the passion, 75<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">the pang, of his joy.</span><br /><br /> +In a field was Dione in labour delivered of Cupid the<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Boy;</span><br /><br /> +And the field in its fostering lap from her travail<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">received him: he drew</span><br /><br /> +Mother's milk from the delicate kisses of flowers;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">and he prosper'd and grew--</span><br /><br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">loved, love anew!</span></i> +</p> +<p>Lo! behold ye the bulls, with how lordly a flank 80<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">they besprawl on the broom!--</span><br /><br /> +Yet obey the uxorious yoke, and are tamed to<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Dione her doom.</span><br /><br /> +Or behear ye the sheep, to the husbanding rams<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">how they bleat to the shade!</span><br /><br /> +Or behear ye the birds, at the Goddess' command<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">how they sing unafraid!</span> +</p> +<p> +Jam loquaces ore rauco stagna cycni perstrepunt;<br /> +Adsonat Terei puella subter umbram populi, 85<br /> +Ut putes motus amoris ore dici musico,<br /> +Et neges queri sororem de marito barbaro.<br /> +Ilia cantat, nos tacemus. Quando ver venit meum?<br /> +Quando fiam uti chelidon, ut tacere desinam?<br /> +Perdidi Musam tacendo, nec me Apollo respicit; 90<br /> +Sic Amyclas, cum tacerent, perdidit silentium.<br /> +<i>Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras<br /> +amet</i>.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Be it harsh as the swannery's clamour that shatters the hush of the lake,<br /> +Be it dulcet as where Philomela holds darkling the poplar awake, 85<br /> +So melting her soul into music, you'd vow 'twas her passion, her own,<br /> +She plaineth—her sister forgot, with the Daulian crime long-agone.<br /> +Hark! Hush! Draw around to the circle ... Ah, loitering Summer! Say when<br /> +For me shall be broken the charm, that I chirp with the swallow again?<br /> +I am old; I am dumb; I have waited to sing till Apollo withdrew— 90<br /> +So Amyclae a moment was mute, and for ever a wilderness grew.<br /> +<i>Now learn ye to love who loved never—now ye who have loved, love anew,</i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>To-morrow!—to-morrow!</i></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<p> +<strong>TO<br /> +CHARLES THURSBY<br /> +THE "ONLIE BEGETTER"</strong> +</p> + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<a name="regent"></a><h2>THE REGENT</h2> + +<p>A DRAMA IN ONE ACT</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<h2>DRAMATIS PERSONAE</h2> + +<p>CARL'ANTONIO, <i>Duke of Adria</i></p> + +<p>TONINO, <i>his young son</i></p> + +<p>LUCIO; <i>Count of Vallescura, brother to the Duchess</i></p> + +<p>CESARIO, <i>Captain of the Guard</i></p> + +<p>GAMBA, <i>a Fool</i></p> +<br /> + +<p>OTTILIA, <i>Duchess and Regent of Adria</i></p> + +<p>LUCETTA, <i>a Lady-in-Waiting</i></p> + +<p>FULVIA, <i>a Lady of the Court</i></p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Courtiers, Priests, Choristers, Soldiers, Mariners, +Townsfolk, etc.</i></p> + +<p><i>The Scene is the Ducal Palace of Adria, in the N. Adriatic</i></p> + +<p><i>The Date, 1571</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<h2>THE REGENT</h2> + +<p><strong>SCENE</strong>.——<i>A terraced courtyard before the Ducal Palace. +Porch and entrance of Chapel, R. A semicircular +balcony, L., with balustrade and marble seats, and an +opening whence a flight of steps leads down to the +city. The city lies out of sight below the terrace; +from which, between its cypresses and statuary, is +seen a straight stretch of a canal; beyond the canal are +sand-hills and the line of the open sea. Mountains, +L., dip down to the sea and form a curve of the +coast.</i></p> + +<p><i>As the curtain rises, a crowd of town and country +folk is being herded to the back of the terrace by the +Ducal Guard, under Cesario. Within the Chapel, to</i> +<i>the sound of an organ, boys' voices are chanting the +service of the Mass.</i></p> + +<p><i>Cesario, Gamba the Fool, Guards, Populace.</i></p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Way there! Give room! The Regent comes from Mass. +Guards, butt them on the toes—way there! give room! +Prick me that laggard's leg-importunate fools!</p> + +<p><i>Guards.</i> Room for the Regent! Room!</p> + +<p>[<i>The sacring bell rings within the Chapel.</i></p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Hark there, the bell!</p> + +<p>[<i>A pause. Men of the crowd take off their caps.</i></p> + +<p>Could ye not leave, this day of all the year, +Your silly suits, petitions, quarrels, pleas? +Could ye not leave, this once in seven years, +Our Lady to come holy-quiet from Mass. +Lean on the wall, and loose her cage-bird heart, +To lift and breast and dance upon the breeze. +Draws home her lord the Duke?</p> + +<p><i>Crowd.</i> Long live the Duke!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> The devil, then! Why darken his approach?</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Gamba (from the bench where he has been mending his +viol).</i> Because, Captain, 'tis a property knaves +and fools have in common—to stand in their own +light, as 'tis of soldiers to talk bad logic. That +knave, now—he with the red nose and the black +eye—the Duke's colours, loyal man!—you clap +an iron on his leg, and ask him why he is not +down in the city, hanging them out of window! +Go to: you are a soldier!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> And you a Fool, and on your own showing +stand in your own light.</p> + +<p><i>Gamba.</i> Nay, neither in my own light, nor as a +Fool. So should myself stand between the sun +and my shadow; whereas I am not myself—these +seven years have I been but the shadow of a +Fool. Yet one must tune up for the Duke</p> + +<p><i>(Strikes his viol and sings.)</i></p> + +<p>"Bird of the South, my Rondinello----"</p> + +<p>Flat-Flat!</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Cesario (calling up to watchman on the Chapel roof).</i> Ho there! What news?</p> + +<p><i>A Voice.</i> Captain, no sail!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Where sits +The wind?</p> + +<p><i>Voice.</i> Nor' west, and north a point!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Perchance +They have down'd sail and creep around the flats.</p> + +<p><i>Gamba (tuning his viol).</i> Flats, flats! the straight horizon, and the life +These seven years laid by rule! The curst canal +Drawn level through the drawn-out level sand +And thistle-tufts that stink as soon as pluck'd! +Give me the hot crag and the dancing heat, +Give me the Abruzzi, and the cushioned thyme— +Brooks at my feet, high glittering snows above. +What were thy music, viol, without a ridge?</p> +<br /> + +<p>[<i>Noise of commotion in the city below.</i></p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Cesario</i>. Watchman, what news?</p> + +<p><i>A Voice</i>. Sir, on the sea no sail!</p> + +<p><i>One of the Crowd</i>. But through the town below a horseman spurs— +I think, Count Lucio! Yes—Count Lucio! +He nears, draws rein, dismounts!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario</i>. Sure, he brings news.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Gamba</i>. I think he brings word the Duke is sick; +his loyal folk have drunk so much of his +health.</p> + +<p>[<i>A murmur has been growing in the town below. It +breaks into cheers as Count Lucio comes springing +up to the terrace.</i></p> + +<p><i>Enter Lucio.</i></p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> News! Where's the Regent? Eh? is Mass not said? +Cesario, news! I rode across the dunes; +A pilot—Nestore—you know the man— +Came panting. Sixteen sail beyond the point! +That's not a galley lost!</p> + +<p><i>Crowd.</i> Long live the Duke!</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Hark to the tocsin! I have carried fire— +Wildfire! Why, where's my sister? I've a mind—</p> +<br /> + +<p>[<i>He strides towards the door of the Chapel; but +pauses at the sound of chanting within, and +comes back to Cesario.</i></p> +<br /> + +<p>Man, are you mute? I say the town's aflame +Below! But here, up here, you stand and stare +Like prisoners loosed to daylight. Rub your eyes, +Believe!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario (musing).</i> It has been long.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> As tapestry +Pricked out by women's needles; point-device +As saints in fitted haloes. Yet they stab, +Those needles. Oh, the devil take their tongues!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Why, what's the matter?</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> P'st! another lie +Against the Countess Fulvia; and the train +Laid to my sister's ear. Cesario, +My sister is a saint—and yet she married: +Therefore should understand ... Would saints, like cobblers, +Stick but to business in this naughty world! +Ah, well! the Duke comes home.</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> And what of that?</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Release!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Release?</p> + +<p><i>Lucio (mocking a chant within the Chapel).</i> From priests and petticoats +Deliver us, Good Lord!</p> + +<p><i>Gamba (strikes a chord on viol). AMEN!</i></p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Count Lucio, +These seven years agone, when the Duke sailed, +You were a child—a pretty, forward boy; +And I a young lieutenant of the Guard, +Burning to serve abroad. But that day, rather, +I clenched my nails over an inward wound: +For that a something manlier than my years— +Look, bearing, what-not—by the Duke not miss'd, +Condemned me to promotion: I must bide +At home, command the Guard! 'Tis an old hurt, +But scalded on my memory.... Well, they sailed! +And from the terrace here, sick with self-pity, +Wrapped in my wrong, forgetful of devoir, +I watch'd them through a mist—turned with a sob— +Uptore my rooted sight— +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 6.25em;">There, there she stood;</span><br /> +Her hand press'd to her girdle, where the babe +Stirred in her body while she gazed—she gazed— +But slowly back controlled her eyes, met mine; +So—with how wan, how small, how brave a smile!— +Reached me her hands to kiss ... +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 8em;">O royal hands!</span><br /> +What burdens since they have borne let Adria tell. +But hear me swear by them, Count Lucio— +Who slights our Regent throws his glove to me.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Why, soothly, she's my sister!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> 'But the court +Is dull? No masques, few banquetings—and prayers +Be long, and youth for pastime leaps the gate?' +Yet if the money husbanded on feasts +Have fed our soldiery against the Turk, +Year after year, and still the State not starved; +Was't not well done? And if, responsible +To God, and lonely, she has leaned on God +Too heavily for our patience, was't not wise?— +And well, though weary?</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> I tell you, she's my sister!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Well, an you will, bridle on that. Lord Lucio, +You named the Countess Fulvia. To my sorrow, +Two hours ago I called on her and laid her +Under arrest.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> The devil! For what?</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> For that +A lady, whose lord keeps summer in the hills +To nurse a gouty foot, should penalize +His dutiful return by shutting doors +And hanging out a ladder made of rope, +Or prove its safety by rehearsing it +Upon a heavier man.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> I'll go to her. +Oh, this is infamous!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Nay, be advised: +No hardship irks the lady, save to sit +At home and feed her sparrows; nor no worse +Annoy than from her balcony to spy +(Should the eye rove) a Switzer of the Guard +At post between her raspberry-canes, to watch +And fright the thrushes from forbidden fruit.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Infamous! infamous!</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Enough, my lord: +The Regent!</p> +<br /> + +<p>[<i>Doors of the Chapel open. The organ sounds, +with voices of choir chanting the recessional. +The Court enters from Mass, attending the +Regent Ottilia and her son Tonino. She wears +a crown and heavy dalmatic. Her brother +Lucio, controlling himself with an effort, kisses +her hand and conducts her to the marble bench, +which serves for her Chair of State. She bows, +receiving the homage of the crowd; but, after +seating herself, appears for a few moments unconscious +of her surroundings. Then, as her +rosary slips from her fingers and falls heavily +at her feet, she speaks.</i></p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> So slips the chain linking this world with Heaven, +And drops me back to earth: so slips the chain +That hangs my spirit to the Redeemer's cross +Above pollution in the pure swept air +Whereunder frets this hive: so slips the chain— +<i>(She starts up)</i>—God! the dear sound! Was that his anchor dropped? +Speak to the watchman, one! Call to the watch! +What news?</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Aloft! What news?</p> + +<p><i>Voice above.</i> No sail as yet!</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Ah, pardon, sirs! My ears are strung to-day, +And play false airs invented by the wind. +Methought a hawse-pipe rattled ...</p> + +<p><i>Gamba (chants to his viol). Shepherds, see— +Lo! What a mariner love hath made me!</i></p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> What chants the Fool?</p> + +<p><i>Gamba.</i> Madonna, 'tis a trifle +Made by a silly poet on wives that stand +All night at windows listening the surf— +<i>Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no!</i></p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Peace, lively! Madam, there is news—brave news! +I'm from the watch-house. There the pilots tell +Of sixteen sail to the southward! Sixteen sail, +And nearing fast!</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Praise God! dear Lucio!</p> +<br /> + +<p>[<i>She has seated herself again. She takes Lucio's +hand and speaks, petting it.</i></p> +<br /> + +<p>What? Glowing with my happiness? That's like you. +But for yourself the hour, too, holds release.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio (between sullenness and shame, with a glance at +Cesario).</i> "Release?"</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> You will forgive? I have great need +To be forgiven: sadly I have been slack +In guardianship, and by so much betrayed +My promise to our mother's passing soul. +Myself in cares immersed, I left the child +Among his toys—and turn to find him man— +But yet so much a boy that boyhood can +<i>(Wistfully)</i> Laugh in his honest eyes? Forgive me, Lucio! +Tell me, whate'er have slackened, there has slipped +No knot of love. To-morrow we'll make sport, +Be playmates and invent new games, and old— +Wreath flowers for crowns—</p> +<br /> + +<p>[<i>He drags his hand away. She gazes at him +wistfully, and turns to the Captain of the +Guard.</i></p> + +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 7.5em;">Cesario,</span><br /> +What are the suits?</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> They are but three to-day, +Madonna. First, a scoundrel here in irons +For having struck the Guard.</p> + +<p><i>Regent (eying the culprit).</i> His name, I think, +Is Donatello Crocco. Hey? You improve, +Good man. The last time 'twas your wife you basted. +At this rate, in another year or two +You'll bang the Turk. Do you confess the assault?</p> + +<p><i>Prisoner.</i> I do.</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Upon a promise we dismiss you. +Your tavern, as it comes into our mind, +Is the 'Three Cups.' So many, and no more, +You'll drink to-day—have we your word? Three cups, +And each a <i>Viva</i> for the Duke's return.</p> + +<p><i>Prisoner.</i> Your Highness, I'll not take it at the price +Of my good manners. I'm a gallant man: +And who in Adria calls. 'Three cheers for the Duke!' +But adds a fourth for the Duchess? Lady, nay; +Grant me that fourth, or back I go to the cells!</p> +<br /> + +<p>[<i>The Regent laughs and nods to the Guard to release +him.</i></p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> What next?</p> + +<p><i>An Old Woman (very rapidly).</i> Your Highness will not know me—Zia +Agnese, Giovannucci's wife that was; +And feed a two-three cows, as a widow may, +On the marshes where the grass is salt and sweet +As your Highness knows—and always true to pail +Until this Nicolo—</p> + +<p><i>Nicolo.</i> Lies! lies, your Highness!</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman.</i> Having a quarrel, puts the evil eye +On Serafina. She's my best of cows, +In stall with calf but ten days weaned.</p> + +<p><i>Nicolo.</i> Lies! lies!</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman.</i> I would your Highness saw her! When that thief +Hangs upon Lazarus' bosom, he'll be bidding +A ducat for each drop of milk he's cost me, +To cool his tongue.</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Ay—ay, the cow is sick, +I think; and mind me, being country-bred, +Of a cure for such: which is, to buy a comb +And comb the sufferer's tail at feeding-time. +If Zia Agnese do but this, she'll counter +The Evil Eye, and maybe with her own +Detect who thieves her Serafina's hay.</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman.</i> God bless your Highness!</p> + +<p><i>Nicolo.</i> God bless your Highness!</p> + +<p><i>Regent (taking up a fresh suit).</i>Why, what's here? "<i>Costanza, +Wife of Giuseppe Boni, citeth him +And sueth to live separate, for neglect +And divers beatings, as to wit----</i>" H'm, h'm— +<i>Likewise to keep the child Geronimo, +Begotten of his body.</i> You defend +The suit, Giuseppe?</p> + +<p><i>A Young Peasant (shrugs his shoulders).</i> As the woman will! +I'll not deny I beat her.</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> But neglect! +How came you to neglect her? Look on her— +The handsome, frowsy slut, that, by appearance, +Hath never washed her body since she wed. +A beating we might pass. But how neglect +To take her by the neck unto the pump +And hold her till her wet and furious face +Were once again worth kissing? Well—well—well! +Neglect is proven. She shall have deserts: +<i>(To a Clerk)</i> But—write, "Defendant keeps his lawful child."</p> + +<p><i>Young Peasant.</i> My lady—</p> + +<p><i>Wife.</i> Nay, my lady—</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Eh? What's this?</p> + +<p><i>Wife.</i> The poor <i>bambino</i>! Nay, 'twas not the suit! +How should Giuseppe, being a fool, a man—</p> + +<p><i>Young Peasant.</i> Aye, aye: that's sense. I love him: still, you see—</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> An if my judgment suit you not, go home, +The pair. <i>(As they are going she calls the woman back.)</i> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Costanza! hath your husband erred</span><br /> +With other woman?</p> + +<p><i>Young Peasant</i>. Never!</p> + +<p><i>Wife</i>. I'll not charge him +With that.</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. But, yes, you may. This man hath held +Another woman to his breast.</p> + +<p><i>Wife</i>. Her name? +That I may tear her eyes!</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. Her name's Costanza. +The same Costanza that, with body washed, +With ribbon in her hair, light in her eyes, +Arrayed a cottage to allure his heart. +Go home, poor fools, and find her!... +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Heigh! No others? [<i>Heaves a sigh.</i></span><br /> +Captain, dismiss the Guard. The watch, aloft— +Set him elsewhere. We would not be o'erlooked. +You only, Lucio—you, Lucetta—stay; +You for a while, Cesario.</p> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 4em;">[<i>Exeunt Courtiers, Guard, Crowd, etc.</i></span><br /> + +<p>Heigh! that's over— +The last Court of the Regent; and the books +Accounts of stewardship, my seven years all, +Closed here for audit. +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">Nay, there's one thing more—</span><br /> +Brother, erewhile I spoke you sisterly, +You turned away, and still you bite your lip: +Signs that may short my preface. It concerns +The Countess Fulvia.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio</i>. Ha!</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. Go, bring her, Captain.</p> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 8.75em;">[<i>Exit Cesario</i>.</span><br /> + +<p>List to me, Lucio: listen, brother dear, +First playmate-child, tending whose innocence +Myself learned motherhood. Shall I deny +Youth to be loved and follow after love? +There is a love breaks like a morning beam +On the husht novice kneeling by his arms; +And worse there is, whose kisses strangle love, +Whose feet take hold of hell. My Lucio, +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Follow not that!</span> +</p> +<p><i>Lucio</i>. Why, who—who hath maligned +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">The Countess?</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i> Not maligned. Lucetta, here—</p> + +<p><i>Lucio</i>. Lucetta! Curse Lucetta and her tongue! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Am I a child, to be nagged by waiting-maids?</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Regent</i>. No, but a man, and shall weigh evidence.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio</i>. But I'll not hear it! If her viper tongue +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Can kill, why kill it must. But send me a man,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And I will smite his mouth—ay, slit his tongue—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">That dares defame the Countess!</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Regent</i>. Stay: she comes.</p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">[<i>Enter the Countess Fulvia, Cesario attending.</i></span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Madam, the reason wherefore you are summoned</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">No doubt you guess, from a rude earlier call</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Our Captain paid you. Certain practices,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Which you may force me name, are charged upon</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">you</span><br /> +On testimony you may force me call +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And may with freedom question.</span> +</p> +<p><i>Fulvia</i>. I'll not question: +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">No, nor I will not answer.</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Lucio</i>. Then I'll answer!' +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">For me, for all, she is innocent!</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Regent</i>. For you? +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">We'll hope it: but 'for all' 's more wide an oath</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Than you can swear, sir. I'll not bandy you</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Words nor debate. Myself the ladder saw;</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Lucetta, here, the ladder and the man.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;"><i>What</i> man she will not say. Cesario</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Has tracked his footprint on her garden plots.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Must we say more?</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Fulvia</i>. No need. Her fingering mind +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Is a close cupboard turning all things rancid.</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Lucio</i>. Yea, for such wry-necks all the world's a lawn +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">To peek and peer and pounce a sinful worm;</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">The fatter, the more luscious.</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Regent. </i> Lucio, +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">This woman nought gainsays.</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Fulvia (fiercely).</i> As why should I? +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">I'll question not, nor answer. 'Neath your brow</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">My sentence hunches, crawls, like cat to spring.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Pah! there's no prude will match your virtuous wife</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">You'd banish me?</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Regent.</i> I do. Cesario, +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">See to it the City gate shuts not to-night.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And she this side.</span> +</p> + + +<p><i>Fulvia (laughs recklessly).</i> To-night? To-night's your own. +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Most modest woman! Duchess, there's a well</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">By the road, some seven miles beyond the town.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">There, 'neath the stars, I'll dip a hand and drink</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">To the good Duke's disport. But have a care!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">That cup's not yet to lip.</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent. </i> Captain, remove her. +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Lucio, remain.</span> +</p> + +<p><i>[Exeunt the Countess Fulvia, Cesario following]</i></p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> I'll not remain—When ice +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Sits judge of fire, what justice shall be done?</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Sister, there be your books—peruse them. There</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">The sea-line--bide you so with back to it.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">While the cold inward heat of cruelty</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Warms what was once your heart, now crusted o'er</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">With duty and slimed with poisonous drip of tongues.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">God help the Duke, if what he left he'd find!</span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 11.75em;"><i>[Exit Lucio]</i></span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Is't so, I wonder? Go, Lucetta, fetch +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">My glass, if haply I may tell.</span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 11.25em;"><i>[Exit Lucetta.]</i></span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 11.5em;">Is't so?</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And have these years enforced, encrusted me</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">To something monstrous, neither woman nor man?</span><br /> +My lord, my lord! too heavy was the load +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">You laid! Yet I'll not blame you: for myself</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Ruled the straight path the long account correct</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">As in these books, my ledgers....</span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">[<i>While she turns the pages, Gamba the Fool creeps</i></span><i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">in and hoists himself on the balustrade. He</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">tries his viol, and sings</span></i><span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">.</span> +</p> + +<p>SONG: <i>Gamba</i>.</p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Bird of the South, my Rondinello—</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. Hey? That Song!</p> + +<p><i>Gamba</i>. Hie to me, fly to me, steel-blue mate! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Under my breast-knot flutters thy fellow;</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Here can I rest not, and thou so late.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Home, to me, home!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">'Love, love, I come!'</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">—Dear one, I wait!</span><br /> +<i>Quanno nacesti tu, nacqui pur io: +La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio</i>! +You know the song, madonna?</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. Ay, fool. Sit +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Here at my feet, sing on.</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Gamba (sings).</i></p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Bird of the South, my Rondinello</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Under thy wing my heart hath lain</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Till the rain falling on last leaves yellow</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Drumm'd to thee, calling southward again.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Home, to me, home!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">'Love, love, I come!'</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Ah, love, the pain!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;"><i>Addio, addio! ed un' altra volt' addio!</i></span><i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio!</span><br /> +(Pause).</i> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">A foolish rustic thing the shepherd wives</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">In our Abruzzi croon by winter fires,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Of their husbands in the plains.</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. Gamba!</p> + +<p><i>Gamba</i>. Madonna?</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. I'd make thee my confessor. Mindest thou, +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">By Villalago, where from Sanno's lake</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">The stream, our Tasso, hurls it down the glen?</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">One noon, with Lucio—ever in those days</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">With Lucio—on a rock within the spray,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">I wove a ferny garland, while the boy</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Roamed, but returned in triumph, having trapped</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">A bee in a bell-flower—held it to my ear,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Laughing, dissembling that he feared to loose</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">The hairy thief. So laughed we—and were still,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">As deep in Vallescura wound a horn,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And up the pathway 'neath the dappling bough</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Came riding—flecked with sunshine, man and horse,—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">My lord, my lover; and that song, that song</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Upon his lips....</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Voice of Watchman</i>. Sail ho! a sail! a sail!</p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>[Murmur of populace below. It grows and swells to</i></span><i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">a roar as enter hurriedly courtiers, guards, and</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">others: Cesario; Lucetta with mirror.</span></i><span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">]</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Lucetta</i>. My lady! O my lady!—</p> + +<p><i>Cesario</i>. See, they near! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Galley on galley—look, there, by the point!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. O, could my heart keep tally with the surge +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">That here comes crowding!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Lucetta</i>. Joy, my lady! Joy!</p> + +<p><i>All</i>. Joy! Joy, my lady!</p> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>[They press flowers on her. A pause, while they</i></span><i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">watch. On the canal the galleys come into</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">sight. They near: and as the oars rise and</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">fall, the rowers' chorus is borne from the distance.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">It is the Rondinello song</span></i><br /> + +<p><i>Chorus in Distance. La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio!</i></p> + +<p><i>Regent</i>. Thanks, my good, good friends! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And deem it not discourteous if alone</span><br /> +I'd tune my heart to bliss. +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 7em;">My glass, Lucetta!</span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>[Takes mirror.]</i></span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Some thoughts there are—some thoughts----</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Courtiers</i>. God save you, madam!</p> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>[They go out, leaving the Regent alone.</i>]</span><br /> + +<p><i>Regent (she loosens the clasp of her robe).</i> Some thoughts +—some thoughts— +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 5em;">Fall from me, envious robe!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Rest there, my crown—thou more than leaden ache!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Ah!—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">God! What a mountain drops! I float—I am lifted</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Like thistledown on nothing. Back, my crown—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Weight me to earth! Nay, nay, thy rim shall bite</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">No more upon this forehead ... Where's my glass?</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">O mirror, mirror, hath it bit so deep?</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">My love is coming, hark! O, say not grey,</span><br /> +Sweet mirror! Tell, what time to cure it now? +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And he so near, so near!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 5em;">How shall I meet him?</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Why how but as the river leaps to sea,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Steel to its magnet, child to mother's arms?</span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">[<i>She catches up flowers from the baskets left by the</i></span><i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">courtiers, and decks herself mildly.</span></i><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Flowers for my hair, flowers at the breast! Sweet flowers,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">He'll crush you 'gainst his corslet. He has arms</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Like bands of iron for clasping, has my love.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">He'll hurt, he'll hurt ... But oh, sweet flowers, to lie</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And feel you helpless while he grips and bruises</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Your weak protesting breasts! You'll die in bliss,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Panting your fragrance out.--</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 6em;">Wh'st! Hush, poor fool!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">I have unlearned love's very alphabet.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Men like us coy, demure ... Then I'll coquet</span><br /> +And play Madam Disdain—but not to-day. +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">To-morrow I'll be shrewish, shy, perverse,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Exacting, cold--all April in my moods:</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">We'll walk the forest, and I'll slip from him,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Hide me like Dryad 'mid the oaks, and mark</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">His hot dark face pursuing; or I'll couch</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">In covert green, and hold my breath to hear</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">His blundering foot go by; then up I'll leap,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And run—and he'll run after. O this lightness!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">I'll draw him like a fairy, dance and double—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Yet not so fast but he shall overtake</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">At length, and catch me panting. O, I charge you,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Wake not my love beneath the forest bough</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Where we lie dreaming!</span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;"><i>[Fanfare of trumpets in the distance.]</i></span><br /> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 5.25em;">Trumpets, hark! and drums!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">They have landed! From the quay they march!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Flowers! flowers!</span><br /> +They are near ... I see him!... Carlo! lord and love! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">He looks—waves—O 'tis he! O foolish heart!—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">I had feared he'd ta'en a wound.</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 6.75em;">What is't they shout?</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Eh? 'Victory!'—yes, yes. He's browner, thinner;</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And the dear eyes, how gaunt!... Yes</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">'Victory!'</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">'Victory!' ... lord, and love!,..</span> +</p> + +<p><i>[The shouts of acclamation are heard now close +under the terrace. Spears and banners are +seen trooping past. Beside herself, she throws +flowers to them, laughing, weeping the while. +Then, running to the Chapel door, she +prostrates herself before the image of the +Virgin that crowns its archway.]</i></p> + +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 9em;">O Mary, Mother!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Thou, in whose breast all women's thoughts have moved,</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">All woman's passions heaved. Lo! I adore!</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Sweet Mother, hold my hands, rejoice with me:</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">My bridegroom cometh!</span><br /> + +<p>[<i>During this invocation the Countess Fulvia has +crept in, a stiletto in her hand. She leans +over the Regent and stabs her twice in the +breast.]</i></p> + +<p><i>Fulvia.</i> Then with that!—and that! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Go meet him!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i> (<i>turns, looks up, and falls on her face</i>). +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Oh! I am slain!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Fulvia.</i> And I am worse! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">But there's my flower, my red flower, on your breast.—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Go, meet your lord and show it!</span> +</p> + +<p>[<i>She passes down the steps as Lucetta runs in.]</i></p> + +<p><i>Lucetta.</i> Madam! Madam! +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">The Duke is at the gate—Madam!—</span><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Christ! she is murdered! Murder! Murder!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Fie, +Lucetta! peace! What word to greet the Duke +For his home-coming! Lift me ... Quick, my robe— +My Crown! Call no one. O, but hasten!</p> + +<p><i>Lucetta</i> (<i>helpless, wringing her hands</i>). Madam!</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> I need your strength, and must I steady you? +Lucetta, years ago you disarrayed me +Upon my bridal night. I would you'd whisper +The rogueries your tongue invented then. +I have few moments, girl ... I'd have them wanton. +Make jest this mantle hides the maid I was. +I'll have no priest, no doctor—Fetch Tonino! +I must present his son— +[<i>Lucetta runs out.</i> +All's acted quick: +Bride-bed, conception, birth--and death! But he +Shall sum it in one moment death not takes ... +What noise of trumpets!... Is the wound not covered?</p> + +<p>[<i>She wraps herself carefully in her mantle as the +courtiers pour in. The child Tonino runs to +her and stands by her side. Lucio, Cesario, +all the Court, group themselves round her as +the Duke enters. He rushes in eagerly; but +she sets her teeth on her anguish, and receives +him with a low reverence.</i></p> + +<p>Welcome my lord!</p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> Ottilia!</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Good my lord, +Welcome! This day is bright restores you to +Your loyal Duchy.</p> + +<p>Duke (<i>impatient</i>). Wife! Ottilia!</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i> (<i>she lifts a hand to keep him at distance</i>). +There must be forms, my lord—some forms! Cesario, +Render the Duke his sceptre. As bar to socket, +When the gate closes on a town secure, +So locks this rod back to his manly clutch— +Cry all, 'Long live the Duke!'</p> + +<p><i>All.</i> Long live the Duke!</p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> Wife, make an end with forms!</p> + +<p><i>Lucio</i> (<i>to Cesario</i>). And so say I! +A man would think my sister had no blood +In her body.</p> + +<p><i>Cesario</i> (<i>watching the Regent</i>). Peace, man: something +there's amiss.</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Yet here is he that sceptre shall inherit. +Lucetta, lead his first-born to the Duke. +His first-born!—Nay but look on him how straight +Of limb, how set and shoulder-square, tho' slender! +He'll sit a horse, in time, and toss a lance +Even with his father.</p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> There's my blessing, boy! +But stand aside. Look in my face, Ottilia— +Hearken me, all! One thing these seven years +My life hath lacked, which wanting, all your cannon, +Your banners, <i>vivas</i>, bells that rock the roofs, +Throng'd windows, craning faces—all—all—all +Were phantasms, were noise.—</p> + +<p><i>Lucio</i> (<i>exclaims</i>). Why look, here's blood! +Here, on the boy's hand!</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Ay! a scratch, no worse, +Here, when I pinned my robe.</p> + +<p><i>Duke</i> (<i>continuing</i>). Nay, friends, this moment +My Duchy her dear hand restores to me +To me's a dream. More buoyant would I tread +Dumb street, deserted square, climb ruin'd wall, +Where in a heap beneath a broken flag +Lay Adria.— +So that amid the ruins stood my love +And stretched her hands so faintly—stretched her hands +So faintly. See! She's mine! She lifts them—</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i> (<i>totters and falls into his arms with a tired, happy +laugh, which ends in a cry as his arms enfold her</i>). Ah!</p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 11.25em;">[<i>She faints.</i></span> +</p> + +<p><i>Duke</i>. (<i>after a moment, releasing her a little</i>). What's +here? Ottilia!</p> + +<p><i>Lucetta.</i> My mistress swoons!</p> + +<p><i>A Courtier.</i> 'Tis happiness—</p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> Fetch water!</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Nay this blood— +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Came of no scratch!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Lucetta.</i> Loosen her bodice—</p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> Blood? +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Why blood? Where's blood?</span> +</p> + +<p>(<i>Stares as the mantle is imclasped and falls open</i>). +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 9.25em;">Ah, my God!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Lucetta.</i> Murder! murder! +The Countess Fulvia—</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Speak!</p> + +<p><i>Lucetta.</i> There—while she knelt— +Stabbed her, and fled.</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Which way?</p> + +<p>[<i>Lucetta points to the stairs. He dashes off in +pursuit.</i></p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> All-seeing God! +Where were thine eyes, or else thy justice? Dead? +O, never dead!</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Ay, Duke, push God aside, +As I push thee. I have the better right: +I killed her—I. O never pass, sweet soul, +Till thou hast drunk a shudder of this wretch, +Thy brother, playmate, murderer!</p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> Wine! bring wine—</p> + +<p><i>Regent</i> (<i>as the wine is brought and revives her</i>). +Flower, he will crush thee—but the bliss, the bliss! +I swim in bliss. What ... Lucio? Where's my lord? +Dear, bring him: he was here awhile and held me. +Say he must hold, or the light air will lift +And bear me quite away.</p> + +<p>[<i>Re-enter Cesario. In one hand he carries his +sword, in the other a dagger.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Cesario! +What! Is that devil escaped? To think—to think +I drank her kisses!—What? Where is she?</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Dead. +I raised the cry: the people pointed after; +Ran with me, ravening. Just this side the bridge +She heard our howl and turned—drew back the dagger +Red with our lady's blood, then drove it home +Clean to her own black heart.</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> God pardon her! +I would what blood of mine clung to the blade +Might mix with hers and sweeten it for mercy.</p> + +<p><i>Lucio.</i> Will you forgive her? Then forgive not me!</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> Dear Lucio!—You'll not pluck away your hand +This time? Hush! Where's Cesario?... Friend, farewell. +Where lies the body?</p> + +<p><i>Cesario.</i> Sooth, madonna, I flung it +To the river's will, to roll it down to sea +Or cast on muddy bar, for dogs to gnaw.</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i> The river? Ah! How strong the river rolls! +Hold me, my lord—</p> + +<p><i>Duke.</i> Love, love, I hold you</p> + +<p><i>Regent.</i>—Ay! +The child, too—You will hold the child?... +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">This roar</span><br /> +Deafens but will not drown us.</p> + +<p>[<i>Within the Chapel the choir is chanting a dirge. +Gamba goes and closes the door on the sound: +then creeps to the foot of the couch. The +dying woman gently motions aside the cross +a priest is holding to her, and looks up at her +husband.</i></p> + +<p>[<i>Below the terrace a voice is heard singing the +Rondinello song.</i></p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Look! beyond</span><br /> +Be waters where no galley moves with oar, +So wide, so waveless,—and, between the woods, +Meadows—O land me there!... Hark, my lord's voice +Singing in Vallescura! Soft my, love, +I am so tired—so tired! Love, let me play! +[<i>Dies.</i></p> + +<p>[<i>The Courtiers lift the body in silence and bear it +to the Chapel, the Duke and his train following. +The doors close on them. On the stage are +left only Cesario, standing by the balustrade; +and Gamba, who has seated himself with his +viol and touches it, as still the voice sings +below—</i></p> + +<p>Addio, Addio! ed un'altra volt'addio! +La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio!</p> + +<p>[<i>On the last note a string of the viol cracks, and with +a cry the Fool flings himself, heart-broken, on +the empty couch. Cesario steps forward and +stands over him, touching his shoulder gently.</i></p> + +<p><strong>CURTAIN</strong>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + <div align="center"><a name="poems"></a></div> + <h2 align="center">POEMS</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<a name="exmoor"></a><h2>EXMOOR VERSES</h2> + +<a name="vashti"></a><p><strong>I. VASHTI'S SONG</strong></p> +<br /> + +<p>Over the rim of the Moor,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And under the starry sky,</span><br /><br /> +Two men came to my door<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And rested them thereby.</span> +</p> +<p> +Beneath the bough and the star,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">In a whispering foreign tongue,</span><br /><br /> +They talked of a land afar<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And the merry days so young!</span> +</p> +<p> +Beneath the dawn and the bough<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">I heard them arise and go:</span><br /><br /> +And my heart it is aching now<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">For the more it will never know.</span> +</p> +<p> +Why did they two depart<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Before I could understand?</span><br /><br /> +Where lies that land, O my heart?<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">—O my heart, where lies that land?</span> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="saturn"></a><h2>II. SATURN</h2> +<p>From my farm, from hèr farm<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Furtively we came.</span><br /><br /> +In either home a hearth was warm:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">We nursed a hungrier flame.</span> +</p> +<p> +Our feet were foul with mire,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Our faces blind with mist;</span><br /><br /> +But all the night was naked fire<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">About us where we kiss'd.</span> +</p> +<p> +To her farm, to my farm,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Loathing we returned;</span><br /><br /> +Pale beneath a gallow's arm<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The planet Saturn burned.</span> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="dereliction"></a><h2>III. DERELICTION</h2> +<p>O'er the tears that we shed, dear<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The bitter vines twist,</span><br /><br /> +And the hawk and the red deer<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">They keep where we kiss'd:</span><br /><br /> +All broken lies the shieling<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That sheltered from rain,</span><br /><br /> +With a star to pierce the ceiling,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And the dawn an empty pane.</span> +</p> +<p> +Thro' the mist, up the moorway,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Fade hunters and pack;</span><br /><br /> +From the ridge to thy doorway<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Happy voices float back ...</span><br /><br /> +O, between the threads o' mist, love,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Reach your hands from the house.</span><br /><br /> +Only mind that we kiss'd, love,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And forget the broken vows!</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="folksong"></a><h2>TWO FOLK SONGS</h2><br /> +<br /> +<a name="soldier"></a><p>I. THE SOLDIER</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>(<i>Roumanian</i>)</p> +<p><i>When winter trees bestrew the path,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Still to the twig a leaf or twain</span><br /><br /> +Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">But that foreknown forlorner pain—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">To fall when green leaves come again.</span></i> +</p> +<p>I watch'd him sleep by the furrow—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The first that fell in the fight.</span><br /><br /> +His grave they would dig to-morrow:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The battle called them to-night.</span> +</p> +<p> +They bore him aside to the trees, there,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">By his undigg'd grave content</span><br /><br /> +To lie on his back at ease there,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And hark how the battle went.</span> +</p> +<p> +The battle went by the village,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And back through the night were borne</span><br /><br /> +Far cries of murder and pillage,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">With smoke from the standing corn.</span> +</p> +<p> +But when they came on the morrow,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">They talk'd not over their task,</span><br /><br /> +As he listen'd there by the furrow;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">For the dead mouth could not ask—</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>How went the battle, my brothers?</i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">But that he will never know:</span><br /><br /> +For his mouth the red earth smothers<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">As they shoulder their spades and go.</span> +</p> +<p> +Yet he cannot sleep thereunder,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">But ever must toss and turn.</span><br /><br /> +<i>How went the battle, I wonder?</i><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">—And that he will never learn!</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>When winter trees bestrew the path,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Still to the twig a leaf or twain</span><br /><br /> +Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">But that foreknown, forlorner pain—</span><br /><br /> +To fall when green leaves come again!</i></p><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="marine"></a><h2>II. THE MARINE</h2><br /> +<br /> +<p>(<i>Poitevin</i>)</p> +<p>The bold Marine comes back from war,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +The bold Marine comes back from war,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +With a raggety coat and a worn-out shoe.<br /> +"Now, poor Marine, say, whence come you,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">All so kind?"</span> +</p> +<p> +I travel back from the war, madame,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +I travel back from the war, madame,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +For a glass of wine and a bowl of whey,<br /> +'Tis I will sing you a ballad gay,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">All so kind.</span> +</p> +<p> +The bold Marine he sips his whey,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +He sips and he sings his ballad gay,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +But the dame she turns toward the wall,<br /> +To wipe her tears that fall and fall,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">All so kind.</span> +</p> +<p> +What aileth you at my song, madame,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind?</span><br /><br /> +I hope that I sing no wrong, madame,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind?</span> +</p> +<p> +Or grieves it you a beggar should dine<br /> +On a bowl of whey and the good white wine,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">All so kind?</span> +</p> +<p> +It ails me not at your ballad gay,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +It ails me not for the wine and whey,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span> +</p> +<p> +But it ails me sore for the voice and eyes<br /> +Of a good man long in Paradise.—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Ah, so kind!</span> +</p> +<p> +You have fair children five, madame,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +You have fair children five, madame,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span> +</p> +<p> +Your good man left you children three;<br /> +Whence came these twain for company,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">All so kind?</span> +</p> +<p> +"A letter came from the war, Marine,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +A letter came from the war, Marine,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +A while I wept for the good man dead,<br /> +But another good man in a while I wed,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">All so kind."</span> +</p> +<p> +The bold Marine he drained his glass,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind:</span><br /><br /> +The bold Marine he drained his glass,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">So kind.</span><br /><br /> +He said not a word, though the tears they flowed,<br /> +But back to his regiment took the road,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">All so kind.</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="maryleslie"></a><h2>MARY LESLIE</h2> +<p><i>Before Vittoria, June</i> 20, 1813</p> +<p>O Mary Leslie, blithe and shrill<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The bugles blew for Spain:</span><br /><br /> +And you below the Castle Hill<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Stood in the crowd your lane.</span><br /><br /> +Then hearts were wild to watch us pass,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Yet laith to let us go!</span><br /><br /> +While mine said, "Fare-ye-well, my lass!"<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And yours, "God keep my Jo!"</span> +</p> +<p> +Here by the bivouac fire, above<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">These fields of savage play,</span><br /><br /> +I'll lift my love to meet thy love<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Twa thousand miles away,</span> +</p> +<p> +Where yonder, yonder by the stars,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Nightlong there rins a burn,</span><br /><br /> +And maids with lovers at the wars<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">May list their wraiths' return.</span> +</p> +<p> +More careless yet my spirit grows<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Of fame, more sick of blood:</span><br /><br /> +But I can think of Badajoz,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And yet that God is good.</span><br /><br /> +Beyond the siege, beyond the stour,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Beyond the sack of towns,</span><br /><br /> +I reach to pluck ae lily-floo'r<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Where leaders press for crowns.</span> +</p> +<p> +O Mary! lily! bow'd and wet<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">With mair than mornin's rain!</span><br /><br /> +The bugles up the Lawnmarket<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Shall sound us home again.</span> +</p> +<p> +Then fare-ye-well, these foreign lands,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And be damn'd their bitter drouth.</span><br /><br /> +With your dear face between my hands<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And the cup held to my mouth,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 6.75em;">My love,</span><br /><br /> +It's clean cup to my mouth!</p> +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="jenslove"></a><h2>JENIFER'S LOVE</h2> +<p>Small is my secret--let it pass—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Small in your life the share I had,</span><br /><br /> +Who sat beside you in the class,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Awed by the bright superior lad:</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Whom yet with hot and eager face</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">I prompted when he missed his place.</span> +</p> +<p> +For you the call came swift and soon:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">But sometimes in your holidays</span><br /><br /> +You meet me trudging home at noon<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">To dinner through the dusty ways,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And recognized, and with a nod</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Passed on, but never guessed—thank God!</span> +</p> +<p> +Truly our ways were separate.<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">I bent myself to hoe and drill,</span> +</p> +<p> +Yea, with an honest man to mate,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Fulfilling God Almighty's will;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And bore him children. But my prayers</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Were yours—and, only after, theirs.</span> +</p> +<p> +While you—still loftier, more remote,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">You sprang from stair to stair of fame,</span><br /><br /> +And you've a riband on your coat,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And you've a title to your name;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">But have you yet a star to shine</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Above your bed, as I o'er mine?</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="twoduets"></a><h2>TWO DUETS</h2> +<p><i>From "Arion," an unpublished Masque</i></p><br /> +<br /> +<p>I</p> +<p><i>He.</i> Aglai-a! Aglai-a!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Sweet, awaken and be glad.</span><br /><br /> +<i>She.</i> Who is this that calls Aglaia?<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Is it thou, my dearest lad?</span><br /><br /> +<i>He.</i> 'Tis Arion, 'tis Arion,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Who calls thee from sleep—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">From slumber who bids thee</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">To follow and number</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">His kids and his sheep.</span><br /><br /> +<i>She.</i> Nay, leave to entreat me!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">If mother should spy on</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Us twain, she would beat me.</span><br /><br /> +<i>He.</i> Then come, my love, come!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">And hide with Arion</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Where green woods are dumb!</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>She.</i> Ar-i-on! Ar-i-on!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Closer, list! I am afraid!</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>He.</i> Whisper, then, thy love Arion,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">From thy window, lily maid.</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>She.</i> Yet Aglaia, yet Aglaia<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Hath heard them debate</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Of wooing repenting—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">"Who trust to undoing,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Lament them too late."</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>He.</i> Nay, nay, when I woo thee,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Thy mother might spy on</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">All harm I shall do thee.</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>She.</i> I come, then—I come!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">To follow Arion</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Where green woods be dumb.</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="song"></a><h2>SONG</h2> +<p><span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Sparrow of Love, so sharp to peck,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Arrow of Love—I bare my neck</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Down to the bosom. See, no fleck</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Of blood! I have never a wound; I go</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Forth to the greenwood. Yet, heigh-ho!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">What 'neath my girdle flutters so?</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">'Tis not a bird, and yet hath wings,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">'Tis not an arrow, yet it stings;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">While in the wound it nests and sings—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 7.75em;">Heigh-ho!</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>He.</i> Of Arion, of Arion<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">That wound thou shalt learn;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">What nothings 'tis made of,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">And soft pretty soothings</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">In shade of the fern.</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>She.</i> When maids have a mind to,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Man's word they rely on,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Old warning are blind to--</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">I come, then—I come</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">To walk with Arion</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Where green woods are dumb!</span> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 7em;">II</span> +<br /> +</p><p><i>He.</i> Dear my love, and O my love,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">And O my love so lately!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Did we wander yonder grove</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">And sit awhile sedately?</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">For either you did there conclude</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">To do at length as I did,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Or passion's fashion's turn'd a prude,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">And troth's an oath derided.</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>She.</i> Yea, my love—and nay, my love—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">And ask me not to tell, love,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">While I delay'd an idle day</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">What 'twixt us there befell, love.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Yet either I did sit beside</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">And do at length as you did,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Or my delight is lightly by</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">An idle lie deluded!</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="statutear"></a><h2>THE STATUES AND THE TEAR</h2> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">All night a fountain pleads,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Telling her beads,</span><br /><br /> +Her tinkling beads monotonous 'neath the moon;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And where she springs atween,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Two statues lean—</span><br /><br /> +Two Kings, their marble beards with moonlight<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">strewn.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Till hate had frozen speech,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Each hated each,</span><br /><br /> +Hated and died, and went unto his place:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">And still inveterate</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">They lean and hate</span><br /><br /> +With glare of stone implacable, face to face.<br /> +<br /> +One, who bade set them here<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">In stone austere,</span><br /><br /> +To both was dear, and did not guess at all:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Yet with her new-wed lord</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Walking the sward</span><br /><br /> +Paused, and for two dead friends a tear let fall.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">She turn'd and went her way.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Yet in the spray</span><br /><br /> +The shining tear attempts, but cannot lie.<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Night-long the fountain drips,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">But even slips</span><br /><br /> +Untold that one bead of her rosary:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">While they, who know it would</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Lie if it could,</span><br /><br /> +Lean on and hate, watching it, eye to eye.</p> +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<a name="nuptial"></a><h2>NUPTIAL NIGHT</h2> +<p>Hush! and again the chatter of the starling<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Athwart the lawn!</span><br /><br /> +Lean your head close and closer. O my darling!—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">It is the dawn.</span><br /><br /> +Dawn in the dusk of her dream,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Dream in the hush of her bosom, unclose!</span><br /><br /> +Bathed in the eye-bright beam,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Blush to her cheek, be a blossom, a rose!</span> +</p> +<p> +Go, nuptial night! the floor of Ocean tressing<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">With moon and star;</span><br /><br /> +With benediction go and breathe thy blessing<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">On coasts afar.</span> +</p> +<p> +Hark! the theorbos thrum<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">O'er the arch'd wave that in white smother booms</span><br /><br /> +"Mother of Mystery, come!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Fain for thee wait other brides, other grooms!"</span> +</p> +<p> +Go, nuptial night, my breast of hers bereaving!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Yet, O, tread soft!</span><br /><br /> +Grow day, blithe day, the mountain shoulder heaving<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">More gold aloft!</span><br /><br /> +Gold, rose, bird of the dawn,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">All to her balcony gather unseen—</span><br /><br /> +Thrill through the curtain drawn,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Bless her, bedeck her, and bathe her, my Queen!</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="hesperus"></a><h2>HESPERUS</h2> +<p>Down in the street the last late hansoms go<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Still westward, but with backward eyes of red</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">The harlot shuffles to her lonely bed;</span><br /><br /> +The tall policeman pauses but to throw<br /> +A flash into the empty portico;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Then he too passes, and his lonely tread</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Links all the long-drawn gas-lights on a thread</span><br /><br /> +And ties them to one planet swinging low.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>O Hesperus! O happy star! to bend<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">O'er Helen's bosom in the trancèd west—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">To watch the hours heave by upon her breast</span><br /><br /> +And at her parted lip for dreams attend:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">If dawn defraud thee, how shall I be deem'd.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Who house within that bosom, and am dreamed?</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="royalvirtue"></a><h2>CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE</h2> +<p>Who lives in suit of armour pent<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And hides himself behind a wall,</span><br /><br /> +For him is not the great event,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The garland nor the Capitol.</span><br /><br /> +And is God's guerdon less than they?<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Nay, moral man, I tell thee Nay:</span><br /><br /> +Nor shall the flaming forts be won<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">By sneaking negatives alone,</span><br /><br /> +By Lenten fast or Ramazàn;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">But by the challenge proudly thrown--</span><br /><br /> +<i>Virtue is that becrowns a Man!</i></p><br /> +<br /> +<p>God, in His Palace resident<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Of Bliss, beheld our sinful ball,</span><br /><br /> +And charged His own Son innocent<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Us to redeem from Adam's fall.</span> +</p> +<p> +"Yet must it be that men Thee slay."<br /> +"Yea, tho' it must, must I obey,"<br /> +Said Christ; and came, His royal Son,<br /> +To die, and dying to atone<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">For harlot, thief, and publican.</span><br /><br /> +Read on that rood He died upon--<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Virtue is that becrowns a Man!</i></span> +</p> +<p> +Beneath that rood where He was bent<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">I saw the world's great captains all</span><br /><br /> +Pass riding home from tournament<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Adown the road from Roncesvalles—</span><br /><br /> +Lord Charlemagne, in one array<br /> +Lords Caesar, Cyrus, Attila,<br /> +Lord Alisaundre of Macedon ...<br /> +With flame on lance and habergeon<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">They passed, and to the rataplan</span><br /><br /> +Of drums gave salutation—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>"Virtue is that becrowns a Man!"</i></span><br /><br /> +Had tall Achilles lounged in tent<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">For aye, and Xanthus neigh'd in stall,</span><br /><br /> +The towers of Troy had ne'er been shent,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Nor stay'd the dance in Priam's hall.</span><br /><br /> +Bend o'er thy book till thou be grey,<br /> +Read, mark, perpend, digest, survey,<br /> +Instruct thee deep as Solomon,<br /> +One only chapter thou canst con,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">One lesson learn, one sentence scan,</span><br /><br /> +One title and one colophon—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Virtue is that becrowns a Man!</i></span> +</p> +<p> +High Virtue's best is eloquent<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">With spur and not with martingall:</span><br /><br /> +Swear not to her thou'rt continent:<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">BE COURTEOUS, BRAVE, AND LIBERAL.</span><br /><br /> +God fashion'd thee of chosen clay<br /> +For service, nor did ever say,<br /> +"Deny thee this," "Abstain from yon,"<br /> +But to inure thee, thew and bone.<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">To be confirmèd of the clan</span><br /><br /> +That made immortal Marathon—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Virtue is that becrowns a Man!</i></span> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">ENVOY</span> +<br /> +</p><p>Young Knight, the lists are set to-day!<br /> +Hereafter shall be time to pray<br /> +In sepulture, with hands of stone.<br /> +Ride, then! outride the bugle blown!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And gaily dinging down the van,</span><br /><br /> +Charge with a cheer—<i>"Set on! Set on!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Virtue is that becrowns a Man!"</span></i> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="coronation"></a><h2>CORONATION HYMN</h2> +<p><span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;"><i>Tune</i>--Luther's Chorale</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">"Ein' feste burg ist unser Gott"</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 5em;">I</span> +</p> +<p> +Of old our City hath renown.<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Of God are her foundations,</span><br /><br /> +Wherein this day a King we crown<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Elate among the nations.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Acknowledge, then, thou King—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">And you, ye people, sing—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">What deeds His arm hath wrought:</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Yea, let their tale be taught</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">To endless generations.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 5.25em;">II</span> +</p> +<p> +So long, so far, Jehovah guides<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">His people's path attending,</span><br /><br /> +By pastures green and water-sides<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Toward His hill ascending;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Whence they beneath the stars</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Shall view their ancient wars,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Their perils, far removed.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">O might of mercy proved!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">O love past comprehending!</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 6.75em;">III</span> +</p> +<p> +He was that God, for man which spake<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">From Sinai forth in thunder;</span><br /><br /> +He was that Love, for man which brake<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The dreadful grave asunder.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Lord over every lord,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">His consecrating word</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">An earthly prince awaits;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Lift then your heads, ye gates!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2em;">Your King comes riding under.</span> +</p> +<p> +IV</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Be ye lift up, ye deathless doors;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Let wave your banners o'er Him!</span><br /><br /> +Exult, ye streets; be strewn, ye floors,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">With palm, with bay, before Him!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">With transport fetch Him in,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Ye ransom'd folk from sin—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Your Lord, return'd to bless!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">O kneeling king, confess—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">O subject men, adore Him!</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="truro"></a><h2>THREE MEN OF TRURO</h2><br /> +<br /> +<p>I</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>E. W. B.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p><i>Archbishop of Canterbury: sometime the First Bishop<br /> +of Truro. October</i> 1896</p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">The Church's outpost on a neck of land—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.25em;">By ebb of faith the foremost left the last—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">Dull, starved of hope, we watched the driven sand</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.25em;">Blown through the hour-glass, covering our past,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">Counting no hours to our relief—no hail</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">Across the hills, and on the sea no sail!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.25em;">Sick of monotonous days we lost account,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">In fitful dreams remembering days of old</span><br /><br /> +And nights—th' erect Archangel on the Mount<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">With sword that drank the dawn; the Vase of Gold</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">The moving Grail athwart the starry fields</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">Where all the heavenly spearmen clashed their</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 4.75em;">shields.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">In dereliction by the deafening shore</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">We sought no more aloft, but sunk our eyes,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Probing the sea for food, the earth for ore.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Ah, yet had one good soldier of the skies</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">Burst through the wrack reporting news of them,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">How had we run and kissed his garment's hem!</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Nay, but he came! Nay, but he stood and cried,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Panting with joy and the fierce fervent race,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">"Arm, arm! for Christ returns!"—and all our pride,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Our ancient pride, answered that eager face:</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">"Repair His battlements!—Your Christ is near!"</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">And, half in dream, we raised the soldiers' cheer.</span> +<br /> +<br /> +Far, as we flung that challenge, fled the ghosts—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Back, as we built, the obscene foe withdrew—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">High to the song of hammers sang the hosts</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Of Heaven—and lo! the daystar, and a new</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">Dawn with its chalice and its wind as wine;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">And youth was hope, and life once more divine!</span></p><hr style="width: 45%;" /><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Day, and hot noon, and now the evening glow,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">And 'neath our scaffolding the city spread</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Twilit, with rain-wash'd roofs, and—hark!—below,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">One late bell tolling. "Dead? Our Captain dead?"</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">Nay, here with us he fronts the westering sun</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.5em;">With shaded eyes and counts the wide fields won.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">Aloft with us! And while another stone</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.25em;">Swings to its socket, haste with trowel and hod!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">Win the old smile a moment ere, alone,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.25em;">Soars the great soul to bear report to God.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">Night falls; but thou, dear Captain, from thy star</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3.75em;">Look down, behold how bravely goes the war!</span> +<br /> +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<h2>II</h2><br /> +<br /> +<p>A. B. D.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p><i>Canon Residentiary and Precentor of Truro<br /> +December</i> 1903<br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Many had builded, and, the building done,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Through our adornèd gates with din</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Came Prince and Priest, with pipe and clarion</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Leading the right God in.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Yet, had the perfect temple quickened then</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">And whispered us between our song,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>"Give God the praise. To whom of living men</i></span><i><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Shall next our thanks belong?"</span></i><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Then had the few, the very few, that wist</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">His Atlantean labour, swerved</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Their eyes to seek, and in the triumph missed,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">The man that most deserved.</span> +<br /> +<br /> +He only of us was incorporate<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">In all that fabric; stone by stone</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Had built his life in her, had made his fate</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">And her perfection one;</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Given all he had; and now—when all was given—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Far spent, within a private shade,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Heard the loud organ pealing praise to Heaven,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">And learned why man is made.—</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">To break his strength, yet always to be brave;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">To preach, and act, the Crucified ...</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Sweep by, O Prince and Prelate, up the nave,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">And fill it with your pride!</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Better than ye what made th' old temples great,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">Because he loved, he understood;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.25em;">Indignant that his darling, less in state,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.75em;">Should lack a martyr's blood.</span> +</p> +<p> +She hath it now. O mason, strip away<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Her scaffolding, the flower disclose!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Lay by the tools with his o'er-wearied clay—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">But She shall bloom unto its Judgment Day,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">His ever-living Rose!</span> +<br /> +</p><p>III</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>C. W. S.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p><i>The Fourth Bishop of Truro<br /> +May</i> 1912</p> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Prince of courtesy defeated,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Heir of hope untimely cheated,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Throned awhile he sat, and, seated,</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Saw his Cornish round him gather;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">"Teach us how to live, good Father!"</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">How to die he taught us rather:</span> +<br /> +<br /> +Heard the startling trumpet sound him,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Smiled upon the feast around him,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Rose, and wrapp'd his coat, and bound him</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">When beyond the awful surges,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Bathed in dawn on Syrian verges,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">God! thy star, thy Cross emerges.</span> +</p> +<p> +<i>And so sing we all to it—</i></p><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Crux, in coelo lux superna,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Sis in carnis hac taberna</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Mihi pedibus lucerna:</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Quo vexillum dux cohortis</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Sistet, super flumen Mortis,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Te, flammantibus in portis!</span> +<br /> +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="almamater"></a><h2>ALMA MATER</h2> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Know you her secret none can utter?</i></span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Hers of the Book, the tripled Crown?</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Still on the spire the pigeons flutter,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Still by the gateway flits the gown;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Still on the street, from corbel and gutter,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Faces of stone look down.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Faces of stone, and stonier faces—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Some from library windows wan</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Forth on her gardens, her green spaces,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Peer and turn to their books anon.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Hence, my Muse, from the green oases</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Gather the tent, begone!</span> +<br /> +<br /> +Nay, should she by the pavement linger<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Under the rooms where once she played,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Who from the feast would rise to fling her</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">One poor <i>sou</i> for her serenade?</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">One short laugh for the antic finger</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Thrumming a lute-string frayed?</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Once, my dear—but the world was young then—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Magdalen elms and Trinity limes—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Lissom the blades and the backs that swung then,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Eight good men in the good old times—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Careless we, and the chorus flung then</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Under St Mary's chimes!</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Reins lay loose and the ways led random—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Christ Church meadow and Iffley track,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">"Idleness horrid and dog-cart" (tandem),</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Aylesbury grind and Bicester pack—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Pleasant our lines, and faith! we scanned 'em:</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Having that artless knack.</span> +</p> +<p> +Come, old limmer, the times grow colder;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Leaves of the creeper redden and fall.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Was it a hand then clapped my shoulder?—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Only the wind by the chapel wall!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Dead leaves drift on the lute ... So, fold her</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Under the faded shawl.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Never we wince, though none deplore us,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">We who go reaping that we sowed;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Cities at cock-crow wake before us—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Hey, for the lilt of the London road!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">One look back, and a rousing chorus!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Never a palinode!</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Still on her spire the pigeons hover;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Still by her gateway haunts the gown.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Ah! but her secret? You, young lover,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Drumming her old ones forth from town,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Know you the secret none discover?</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Tell it—when <i>you</i> go down.</span> +</p> +<p> +Yet if at length you seek her, prove her,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Lean to her whispers never so nigh;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Yet if at last not less her lover</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">You in your hansom leave the High;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 2.5em;">Down from her towers a ray shall hover—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 3em;">Touch you, a passer-by!</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="christmas"></a><h2>CHRISTMAS EVE</h2> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Friend, old friend in the Manse by the fireside sitting,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Hour by hour while the grey ash drips from the log;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">You with a book on your knee, your wife with her knitting,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Silent both, and between you, silent, the dog.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Silent here in the south sit I; and, leaning,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">One sits watching the fire, with chin upon hand;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Gazes deep in its heart—but ah! its meaning</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Rather I read in the shadows and understand.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Dear, kind she is; and daily dearer, kinder,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Love shuts the door on the lamp and our two selves:</span> +<br /> +<br /> + +Not my stirring awakened the flame that behind her<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Lit up a face in the leathern dusk of the shelves.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Veterans are my books, with tarnished gilding:</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Yet there is one gives back to the winter grate</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Gold of a sunset flooding a college building,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Gold of an hour I waited—as now I wait—</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">For a light step on the stair, a girl's low laughter,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Rustle of silk, shy knuckles tapping the oak,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Dinner and mirth upsetting my rooms and, after,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Music, waltz upon waltz, till the June day broke.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Where is her laughter now? Old tarnished covers—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">You that reflect her with fresh young face unchanged—</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Tell that we met, that we parted, not as lovers;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Time, chance, brought us together, and these estranged.</span><br /><br /> +Loyal were we to the mood of the moment granted,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Bruised not its bloom, but danced on the wave of its joy;</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Passion—wisdom—fell back like a fence enchanted,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Ringing a floor for us both—whole Heaven for the boy!</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Where is she now? Regretted not, though departed,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Blessings attend and follow her all her days!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">—Look to your hound: he dreams of the hares he started,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Whines, and awakes, and stretches his limbs to the blaze.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Far old friend in the Manse, by the green ash peeling</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Flake by flake from the heat in the Yule log's core,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Look past the woman you love. On wall and ceiling</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Climbs not a trellis of roses—and ghosts—of yore?</span> +<br /> +<br /> + +Thoughts, thoughts! Whistle them back like hounds returning—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Mark how her needles pause at a sound upstairs.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.25em;">Time for bed, and to leave the log's heart burning!</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.75em;">Give ye good-night, but first thank God in your prayers!</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="theroot"></a><h2>THE ROOT</h2> +<p> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Deep, Love, yea, very deep.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">And in the dark exiled,</span><br /><br /> +I have no sense of light but still to creep<br /> +And know the breast, but not the eyes. Thy child<br /> +Saw ne'er his mother near, nor if she smiled;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">But only feels her weep.</span><br /><br /> +<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1em;">Yet clouds and branches green</span><br /><br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">There be aloft, somewhere,</span><br /><br /> +And winds, and angel birds that build between,<br /> +As I believe—and I will not despair;<br /> +For faith is evidence of things not seen.<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Love! if I could be there!</span> +<br /> +<br /> + +I will be patient, dear.<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">Perchance some part of me</span><br /><br /> +Puts forth aloft and feels the rushing year<br /> +And shades the bird, and is that happy tree<br /> +Then were it strength to serve and not appear,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 1.5em;">And bliss, though blind, to be.</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<a name="violets"></a><h2>TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME A BOX OF VIOLETS</h2> +<p>Nay, more than violets<br /> +These thoughts of thine, friend!<br /> +Rather thy reedy brook—<br /> +Taw's tributary—<br /> +At midnight murmuring,<br /> +Descried them, the delicate<br /> +Dark-eyed goddesses,<br /> +There by his cressy bed<br /> +Dissolved and dreaming<br /> +Dreams that distilled into dew<br /> +All the purple of night,<br /> +All the shine of a planet.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Whereat he whispered;<br /> +And they arising—</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Of day's forget-me-nots<br /> +The duskier sisters—<br /> +Descended, relinquished<br /> +The orchard, the trout-pool,<br /> +Torridge and Tamar,<br /> +The Druid circles,<br /> +Sheepfolds of Dartmoor,<br /> +Granite and sandstone;<br /> +By Roughtor, Dozmare,<br /> +Down the vale of the Fowey<br /> +Moving in silence,<br /> +Brushing the nightshade<br /> +By bridges cyclopean,<br /> +By Trevenna, Treverbyn,<br /> +Lawharne and Largin,<br /> +By Glynn, Lanhydrock,<br /> +Restormel, Lostwithiel,<br /> +Dark wood, dim water, dreaming town;<br /> +Down the vale of the Fowey<br /> +To the tidal water<br /> +Washing the feet<br /> +Of fair St Winnow—<br /> +Each, in her exile<br /> +Musing the message,<br /> +Passed, as the starlit<br /> +Shadow of Ruth from the land of the Moabite.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>So they came,<br /> +Valley-born, valley-nurtured—<br /> +Came to the tideway<br /> +The jetties, the anchorage,<br /> +The salt wind piping,<br /> +Snoring in Equinox,<br /> +By ships at anchor,<br /> +By quays tormented,<br /> +Storm-bitten streets;<br /> +Came to the Haven<br /> +Crying, "Ah, shelter us,<br /> +The strayed ambassadors,<br /> +Love's lost legation<br /> +On a comfortless coast!"</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Nay, but a little sleep,<br /> +A little folding<br /> +Of petals to the lull<br /> +Of quiet rainfalls—<br /> +Here in my garden,<br /> +In angle sheltered<br /> +From north and east wind—<br /> +Softly shall recreate<br /> +The courage of charity,<br /> +Henceforth not to me only<br /> +Breathing the message.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Clean-breath'd Sirens!<br /> +Hencefore the mariner<br /> +Here in the fairway<br /> +Fetching—foul of keel,<br /> +Long-stray but fortunate—<br /> +Out of the fogs, the vast<br /> +Atlantic solitudes.<br /> +Shall, by the hawser-pin<br /> +Waiting the signal<br /> +<i>Leave—go—anchor!</i><br /> +Scent the familiar,<br /> +The unforgettable<br /> +Fragrance of home;<br /> +So in a long breath<br /> +Bless us unknowing:<br /> +Bless them, the violets,<br /> +Bless me, the gardener,<br /> +Bless thee, the giver.</p> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<a name="children"></a><h2>OF THREE CHILDREN</h2><br /> + +<p>OF THREE CHILDREN CHOOSING<br /> +A CHAPLET OF VERSE</p> +<p>You and I and Burd so blithe—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Burd so blithe, and you, and I—</span><br /><br /> +The Mower he would whet his scythe<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Before the dew was dry.</span> +</p> +<p> +And he woke soon, but we woke soon<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And drew the nursery blind,</span><br /><br /> +All wondering at the waning moon<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">With the small June roses twined:</span><br /><br /> +Low in her cradle swung the moon<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">With an elfin dawn behind.</span> +</p> +<p> +In whispers, while our elders slept,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">We knelt and said our prayers,</span><br /><br /> +And dress'd us and on tiptoe crept<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Adown the creaking stairs.</span> +</p> +<p> +The world's possessors lay abed,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And all the world was ours—</span><br /><br /> +"Nay, nay, but hark! the Mower's tread!<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And we must save the flowers!"</span> +</p> +<p> +The Mower knew not rest nor haste—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That old unweary man:</span><br /><br /> +But we were young. We paused and raced<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And gather'd while we ran.</span> +</p> +<p> +O youth is careless, youth is fleet,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">With heart and wing of bird!</span><br /><br /> +The lark flew up beneath our feet,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">To his copse the pheasant whirr'd;</span> +</p> +<p> +The cattle from their darkling lairs<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Heaved up and stretch'd themselves;</span><br /><br /> +Almost they trod at unawares<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Upon the busy elves</span> +</p> +<p> +That dropp'd their spools of gossamer,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">To dangle and to dry,</span><br /><br /> +And scurried home to the hollow fir<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Where the white owl winks an eye.</span> +</p> +<p> +Nor you, nor I, nor Burd so blithe<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Had driven them in this haste;</span><br /><br /> +But the old, old man, so lean and lithe,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That afar behind us paced;</span><br /><br /> +So lean and lithe, with shoulder'd scythe,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And a whetstone at his waist.</span> +</p> +<p> +Within the gate, in a grassy round<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Whence they had earliest flown,</span><br /><br /> +He upside-down'd his scythe, and ground<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Its edge with careful hone.</span><br /><br /> +But we heeded not, if we heard, the sound,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">For the world was ours alone;</span><br /><br /> +The world was ours!—and with a bound<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The conquering Sun upshone!</span> +</p> +<p> +And while as from his level ray<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">We stood our eyes to screen.</span><br /><br /> +The world was not as yesterday<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Our homelier world had been—</span><br /><br /> +So grey and golden-green it lay<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">All in his quiet sheen,</span><br /><br /> +That wove the gold into the grey,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The grey into the green.</span><br /><br /> +Sure never hand of Puck, nor wand<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Of Mab the fairies' queen,</span><br /><br /> +Nor prince nor peer of fairyland<br /> +Had power to weave that wide riband<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Of the grey, the gold, the green.</span> +</p> +<p> +But the Gods of Greece had been before<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And walked our meads along,</span><br /><br /> +The great authentic Gods of yore<br /> +That haunt the earth from shore to shore<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Trailing their robes of song.</span> +</p> +<p> +And where a sandall'd foot had brush'd,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And where a scarfed hem,</span><br /><br /> +The flowers awoke from sleep and rush'd<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Like children after them.</span> +</p> +<p> +Pell-mell they poured by vale and stream,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">By lawn and steepy brae—</span><br /><br /> +"O children, children! while you dream,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Your flowers run all away!"</span> +</p> +<p> +But afar and abed and sleepily<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The children heard us call;</span><br /><br /> +And Burd so blithe and you and I<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Must be gatherers for all.</span> +</p> +<p> +The meadow-sweet beside the hedge,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The dog-rose and the vetch,</span><br /><br /> +The sworded iris 'mid the sedge,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The mallow by the ditch—</span> +</p> +<p> +With these, and by the wimpling burn,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Where the midges danced in reels,</span><br /><br /> +With the watermint and the lady fern<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">We brimm'd out wicker creels:</span> +</p> +<p> +Till, all so heavily they weigh'd,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">On a bank we flung us down,</span><br /><br /> +Shook out our treasures 'neath the shade<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And wove this Triple Crown.</span> +</p> +<p> +Flower after flower—for some there were<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The noonday heats had dried,</span><br /><br /> +And some were dear yet could not bear<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">A lovelier cheek beside,</span><br /><br /> +And some were perfect past compare—<br /> +Ah, darlings! what a world of care<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">It cost us to decide!</span> +</p> +<p> +Natheless we sang in sweet accord,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Each bending o'er her brede—</span><br /><br /> +"O there be flowers in Oxenford,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And flowers be north of Tweed,</span><br /><br /> +And flowers there be on earthly sward<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That owe no mortal seed!"</span> +</p> +<p> +And these, the brightest that we wove,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Were Innocence and Truth,</span><br /><br /> +And holy Peace and angel Love,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Glad Hope and gentle Ruth.</span><br /><br /> +Ah, bind them fast with triple twine<br /> +Of Memory, the wild woodbine<br /> +That still, being human, stays divine,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And alone is age's youth!...</span> +</p> +<p> +But hark! but look! the warning rook<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Wings home in level flight;</span><br /><br /> +The children tired with play and book<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Have kiss'd and call'd Good-night!</span> +</p> +<p> +Ah, sisters, look! What fields be these<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That lie so sad and shorn?</span><br /><br /> +What hand has cut our coppices,<br /> +And thro' the trimm'd, the ruin'd, trees<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Lets wail a wind forlorn?</span> +</p> +<p> +'Tis Time, 'tis Time has done this crime<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And laid our meadows waste—</span><br /><br /> +The bent unwearied tyrant Time,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That knows nor rest nor haste.</span> +</p> +<p> +Yet courage, children; homeward bring<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Your hearts, your garlands high;</span><br /><br /> +For we have dared to do a thing<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That shall his worst defy.</span> +</p> +<p> +We cannot nail the dial's hand;<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">We cannot bind the sun</span><br /><br /> +By Gibeon to stay and stand,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Or the moon o'er Ajalon;</span> +</p> +<p> +We cannot blunt th' abhorred shears,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Nor shift the skeins of Fate,</span><br /><br /> +Nor say unto the posting years<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">"Ye shall not desolate."</span> +</p> +<p> +We cannot cage the lion's rage,<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Nor teach the turtle-dove</span><br /><br /> +Beside what well his moan to tell<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Or to haunt one only grove;</span><br /><br /> +But the lion's brood will range for food<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">As the fledged bird will rove.</span> +</p> +<p> +And east and west we three may wend—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Yet we a wreath have wound</span><br /><br /> +For us shall wind withouten end<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">The wide, wide world around:</span> +</p> +<p> +Be it east or west, and ne'er so far,<br /> +In east or west shall peep no star,<br /> +No blossom break from ground,<br /> +But minds us of the wreath we wove<br /> +Of innocence and holy love<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">That in the meads we found,</span><br /><br /> +And handsell'd from the Mower's scythe,<br /> +And bound with memory's living withe—<br /> +You and I and Burd so blithe—<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Three maidens on a mound:</span><br /><br /> +And all of happiness was ours<br /> +Shall find remembrance 'mid the flowers,<br /> +Shall take revival from the flowers<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And by the flowers be crown'd.</span> +<br /> +</p><hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<br /> +<h2>EPILOGUE</h2><br /> +<br /> +<a name="smileyes"></a><p>TO A MOTHER, ON SEEING HER SMILE REPEATED<br /> +IN HER DAUGHTER'S EYES</p> +<p>A thousand songs I might have made<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Of You, and only You;</span><br /><br /> +A thousand thousand tongues of fire<br /> +That trembled down a golden wire<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">To lamp the night with stars, to braid</span><br /><br /> +The morning bough with dew.</p><br /> +<br /> +<p>Within the greenwood girl and boy<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Had loiter'd to their lure,</span><br /><br /> +And men in cities closed their books<br /> +To dream of Spring and running brooks<br /> +And all that ever was of joy<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">For manhood to abjure.</span> +</p> +<p> +And I'd have made them strong, so strong<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Outlasting towers and towns—</span><br /><br /> +Millennial shepherds 'neath the thorn<br /> +Had piped them to a world reborn,<br /> +And danced Delight the dale along<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">And up the daisied downs.</span> +</p> +<p> +A thousand songs I might have made...<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">But you required them not;</span><br /><br /> +Content to reign your little while<br /> +Ere, abdicating with a smile,<br /> +You pass'd into a shade, a shade<br /> +<span style="layout-flow: horizontal; margin-left: 0.5em;">Immortal—and forgot!</span> +</p> +</td> + </tr> +</table> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Vigil of Venus and Other Poems by "Q", by Q + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIGIL OF VENUS *** + +***** This file should be named 10133-h.htm or 10133-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/1/3/10133/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Sjaani and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Vigil of Venus and Other Poems by "Q" + +Author: Q + (AKA: Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch) + +Release Date: November 19, 2003 [EBook #10133] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIGIL OF VENUS *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Sjaani and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +THE VIGIL OF VENUS + +AND OTHER POEMS BY + +"Q" + + +1912 + + + +TO MAURICE HEWLETT + + + + HEWLETT! as ship to ship + Let us the ensign dip. + There may be who despise + For dross our merchandise, + Our balladries, our bales + Of woven tales; + Yet, Hewlett, the glad gales + Favonian! And what spray + Our dolphins toss'd in play, +Full in old Triton's beard, on Iris' shimmering veils! + + Scant tho' the freight of gold + Commercial in our hold, + Paestum, Eridanus + Perchance have barter'd us + 'Bove chrematistic care + + + + +CONTENTS + +THE VIGIL OF VENUS +PERVIGILIUM VENERIS +THE REGENT--A DRAMA IN ONE ACT +POEMS + EXMOOR VERSES + VASHTI'S SONG + SATURN + DERELICTION + TWO FOLK SONGS + THE SOLDIER + THE MARINE + MARY LESLIE + JENIFER'S LOVE + TWO DUETS + THE STATUES AND THE TEAR + NUPTIAL NIGHT + HESPERUS + CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE + ENVOY + CORONATION HYMN + THREE MEN OF TRURO + ALMA MATER + CHRISTMAS EVE + THE ROOT + TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME A BOX OF VIOLETS + OF THREE CHILDREN CHOOSING A CHAPLET OF VERSE +EPILOGUE: TO A MOTHER, ON SEEING HER SMILE REPEATED +IN HER DAUGHTER'S EYES + + + + +THE VIGIL OF VENUS + + +The _Pervigilium Veneris_--of unknown authorship, but clearly belonging +to the late literature of the Roman Empire--has survived in two MSS., +both preserved at Paris in the _Bibliotheque Nationale_. + +Of these two MSS. the better written may be assigned (at earliest) to +the close of the seventh century; the other (again at earliest) to the +close of the ninth. Both are corrupt; the work of two illiterate +copyists who--strange to say--were both smatterers enough to betray +their little knowledge by converting _Pervigilium_ into _Per Virgilium_ +(_scilicet_, "by Virgil"): thus helping us to follow the process of +thought by which the Middle Ages turned Virgil into a wizard. Here and +there the texts become quite silly, separately or in consent; and just +where they agree in the most surprising way--_i.e._ in the arrangement +of the lines--the conjectural emendator is invited to do his worst by a +note at the head of the older Codex, "Sunt vero versus xxii"--"There are +rightly twenty-two lines." + +This has started much ingenious guess-work. But no really convincing +rearrangement has been achieved as yet; and I have been content to take +the text pretty well as it stands, with a few corrections upon which +most scholars agree. With a poem of "paratactic structure" the best of +us may easily go astray by transposing lines, or blocks of lines, to +correspond with _our_ sequence of thought; and I shall be content if, +following the only texts to which appeal can be made,[1] my translation +be generally intelligible. + +It runs pretty closely, line for line, with the original; because one +may love and emulate classical terseness even while despairing to rival +it. But it does not attempt to be literal; for even were it worth doing, +I doubt if it be possible for anyone in our day to hit precisely the +note intended by an author or heard by a reader in the eighth century. +Men change subtly as nations succeed to nations, religions to religions, +philosophies to philosophies; and it is a property of immortal poetry to +shift its appeal. It does not live by continuing to mean the some thing. +It grows as we grow. We smile, for instance, when some interlocutor in a +dialogue of Plato takes a line from the _Iliad_ and applies it seriously +_au pied de la lettre_. We can hardly conceive what the great line +conveyed to him; but it may mean something equally serious to us, though +in a different way. + +[1] Facsimiles of the two Codices can be studied in a careful edition of +the _Pervigilum_ by Mr Cecil Clementi, published by Mr B.H. Blackwell of +Oxford, 1911. + + + + +PERVIGILIUM VENERIS + +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_. +Ver novum, ver jam canorurn, vere natus orbis est; +Vere concordant amores, vere nubunt alites, +Et nemus comam resolvit de maritis imbribus. +Cras amorum copulatrix inter umbras arborum 5 +Inplicat casas virentes de flagello myrteo: +Cras Dione jura dicit fulta sublimi throno. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_. + +_To-morrow--What news of to-morrow? +Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew_! +It is Spring, it is chorussing Spring; 'tis the birthday of Earth, and + for you! +It is Spring; and the Loves and the birds wing together and woo to accord +Where the bough to the rain has unbraided her locks as a bride to + her lord. +For she walks--she our Lady, our Mistress of Wedlock--the woodlands + atween, 5 +And the bride-bed she weaves them, with myrtle enlacing, with curtains + of green. +Look aloft! list the law of Dione, sublime and enthroned in the blue: +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew_! + +Tunc liquore de superno spumeo et ponti globo, +Caerulas inter catervas, inter et bipedes equos, 10 +Fecit undantem Dionen de maritis imbribus. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quiqiie amavit cras amet_. + +Ipsa gemmis purpurantem pingit annum floribus, +Ipsa surgentes papillas de Favoni spiritu +Urget in toros tepentes; ipsa roris lucidi 15 +Noctis aura quem relinquit, spargit umentes aquas. +Et micant lacrimae trementes de caduco pondere: + +Time was that a rain-cloud begat her, impregning the heave of the deep, +'Twixt hooves of sea-horses a-scatter, stampeding the dolphins as + sheep. 10 +Lo! arose of that bridal Dione, rainbow'd and besprent of its dew! +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew_! + +She, she, with her gem-dripping finger enamels the wreath of the year; +She, she, when the maid-bud is nubile and swelling winds--whispers anear, +Disguising her voice in the Zephyr's--"So secret the bed! And thou + shy?" 15 +She, she, thro' the hush'd humid Midsummer night draws the dew from on + high; +Dew bright with the tears of its origin, dew with its weight on the bough, + +Gutta praeceps orbe parvo sustinet casus suos. +En, pudorem florulentae prodiderunt purpurae: +Umor ille quern serenis astra rorant noctibus 20 +Mane virgineas papillas solvit umenti peplo. +Ipsa jussit mane ut udas virgines nubant rosae; +Fusa Paphies de cruore deque Amoris osculis +Deque gemmis deque flammis deque solis purpuris, +Cras ruborem qui latebat veste tectus ignea 25 +Unico marita nodo non pudebit solvere. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_. + +Misdoubting and clinging and trembling--"Now, now must I fall? Is it now?" +Star-fleck'd on the stem of the brier as it gathers and falters and flows, +Lo! its trail runs a ripple of fire on the nipple it bids be a + rose, 20 +Yet englobes it diaphanous, veil upon veil in a tiffany drawn +To bedrape the small virginal breasts yet unripe for the spousal of dawn; +Till the vein'd very vermeil of Venus, till Cupid's incarnadine kiss, +Till the ray of the ruby, the sunrise, ensanguine the bath of her bliss; +Till the wimple her bosom uncover, a tissue of fire to the view, 25 +And the zone o'er the wrists of the lover slip down as they reach to undo. +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew_! + +Ipsa nymphas diva luco jussit ire myrteo: +It puer comes puellis. Nee tamen credi potest +Esse Amorem feriatum, si sagittas vexerit. 30 +Ite, nymphae, posuit arma, feriatus est Amor; +Jussus est inermis ire, nudus ire jussus est, +Neu quid arcu, neu sagitta, neu quid igne Iaederet; +Sed tamen nymphse cavete, quod Cupido pulcher est; +Est in armis totus idem quando nudus est Amor! 35 + +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit eras amet_. + +Conpari Venus pudore mittit ad te virgines: + +"Go, maidens," Our Lady commands, "while the myrtle is green in the + groves, +Take the Boy to your escort." "But ah!" cry the maidens, "what trust + is in Love's +Keeping holiday too, while he weareth his archery, tools of his + trade?" 30 +"Go! he lays them aside, an apprentice released; ye may wend unafraid. +See, I bid him disarm, he disarms; mother-naked I bid him to go, +And he goes mother-naked. What flame can he shoot without arrow or bow?" +Yet beware ye of Cupid, ye maidens! Beware most of all when he charms +As a child: for the more he runs naked, the more he's a strong + man-at-arms. 35 + +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew! +"Lady Dian"--Behold how demurely the damsels approach her and sue-- + +Una res est quam rogamus: cede, virgo Delia, +Ut nemus sit incruentum de ferinis stragibus. +Ipsa vellet ut venires, si deceret virginem: 40 +Jam tribus choros videres feriatos noctibus +Congreges inter catervas ire per saltus tuos, +Floreas inter coronas, myrteas inter casas: +Nee Ceres nee Bacchus absunt, nee poetarum Deus; +De tenente tota nox est pervigilia canticis: 45 +Regnet in silvis Dione; tu recede, Delia. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_. + +Hear Venus her only petition! Dear maiden of + Delos, depart! +Let the forest be bloodless to-day, unmolested the + roe and the hart! +Holy huntress, thyself she would bid be her guest, 40 + could thy chastity stoop +To approve of our revels, our dances--three + nights that we weave in a troop +Arm-in-arm thro' thy sanctu'ries whirling, till faint + and dispersed in the grove +We lie with thy lilies for chaplets, thy myrtles for + arbours of love: +And Apollo, with Ceres and Bacchus to chorus-- + song, harvest, and wine-- +Hymns thee dispossess'd, "'Tis Dione who reigns! 45 + Let Diana resign!" +O, the wonderful nights of Dione! dark bough, + with her star shining thro'! +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have + loved, love anew!_ + +Jussit Hyblaeis tribunal stare diva floribus; +Praeses ipsa jura dicit, adsederunt Gratiae. +Hybla, totos funde floras quidquid annus adtulit; 50 +Hybla, florum rumpe vestem quantus AEtnae campus est. + +Ruris hic erunt puellae, vel puellae montium, +Quaeque silvas, quaeque lucos, quaeque fontes incolunt: + +Jussit omnes adsidere mater alitis dei, +Jussit et nudo puellas nil Amori credere. 55 + +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet._ +She has set up her court, has Our Lady, in Hybla, + and deckt it with blooms:-- +With the Graces at hand for assessors Dione dispenses + her dooms. +Now burgeon, O Hybla! put forth and abound, till 50 + Proserpina's field, +To the foison thy lap overflowing its laurel of Sicily + yield. +Call, assemble the nymphs--hamadryad and dryad-- + the echoes who court +From the rock, who the rushes inhabit, in ripples + who swim and disport. +"I admonish you maids--I, his mother, who suckled + the scamp ere he flew-- +An ye trust to the Boy flying naked, some pestilent 55 + prank ye shall rue." +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have + loved, love anew!_ + +Et rigentibus virentes ducit umbras floribus: +Cras erit quum primus AEther copulavit nuptias, +Et pater totum creavit vernis annum nubibus, +In sinum maritus imber fluxit almae conjugis, 60 +Unde fetus mixtus omnes aleret magno corpore. +Ipsa venas atque mentem permeanti spiritu +Intus occultis gubernat procreatrix viribus, +Perque coelum, perque terras, perque pontum + subditum +Pervium sui tenorem seminali tramite 65 + +She has coax'd her the shade of the hazel to cover + the wind-flower's birth. +Since the day the Great Father begat it, descending + in streams upon Earth; +When the Seasons were hid in his loins, and the + Earth lay recumbent, a wife, +To receive in the searching and genital shower the 60 + soft secret of life. +As the terrible thighs drew it down, and conceived, + as the embryo ran +Thoro' blood, thoro' brain, and the Mother gave all + to the making of man, +She, she, our Dione, directed the seminal current to + creep, +Penetrating, possessing, by devious paths all the + height, all the deep. +She, of all procreation procuress, the share to the 65 + furrow laid true; + +Inbuit, jussitque mundum nosse nascendi vias. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit +cras amet._ + +Ipsa Trojanos nepotes in Latinos transtulit, +Ipsa Laurentem puellam conjugem nato dedit; +Moxque Marti de sacello dat pudicam virginem; 70 +Romuleas ipsa fecit cum Sabinis nuptias, +Unde Ramnes et Quirites proque prole posterum +Romuli matrem crearet et nepotem Caesarem. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras + amet._ + +She, she, to the womb drave the knowledge, and open'd the ecstasy through. +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew!_ + +Her favour it was fill'd the sail of the Trojan for Latium bound; +Her favour that won her Aeneas a bride on Laurentian ground, +And anon from the cloister inveigled the Virgin, the Vestal, + to Mars; 70 +As her wit by the wild Sabine rape recreated her Rome for its wars, +With the Ramnes, Quirites, together ancestrally proud as they drew +From Romulus down to our Caesar--last, best of that bone, of that thew. +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew!_ + +Rura fecundat voluptas: rura Venerem sentiunt: 75 +Ipse Amor puer Dionse rure natus dicitur. +Hunc ager, cum parturiret ipsa, suscepit sinu: +Ipsa florum delicatis educavit osculis. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras, +amet_. + +Ecce jam super genestas explicant tauri latus, 80 +Quisque tutus quo tenetur conjugali foedere: +Subter umbras cum maritis ecce balantum greges; +Et canoras non tacere diva jussit alites. + +Pleasure planteth a field; it conceives to the passion, 75 + the pang, of his joy. +In a field was Dione in labour delivered of Cupid the + Boy; +And the field in its fostering lap from her travail + received him: he drew +Mother's milk from the delicate kisses of flowers; + and he prosper'd and grew-- +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have + loved, love anew!_ + +Lo! behold ye the bulls, with how lordly a flank 80 + they besprawl on the broom!-- +Yet obey the uxorious yoke, and are tamed to + Dione her doom. +Or behear ye the sheep, to the husbanding rams + how they bleat to the shade! +Or behear ye the birds, at the Goddess' command + how they sing unafraid! + +Jam loquaces ore rauco stagna cycni perstrepunt; +Adsonat Terei puella subter umbram populi, 85 +Ut putes motus amoris ore dici musico, +Et neges queri sororem de marito barbaro. +Ilia cantat, nos tacemus. Quando ver venit meum? +Quando fiam uti chelidon, ut tacere desinam? +Perdidi Musam tacendo, nec me Apollo respicit; 90 +Sic Amyclas, cum tacerent, perdidit silentium. +_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras +amet_. + +Be it harsh as the swannery's clamour that shatters the hush of the lake, +Be it dulcet as where Philomela holds darkling the poplar awake, 85 +So melting her soul into music, you'd vow 'twas her passion, her own, +She plaineth--her sister forgot, with the Daulian crime long-agone. +Hark! Hush! Draw around to the circle ... Ah, loitering Summer! Say when +For me shall be broken the charm, that I chirp with the swallow again? +I am old; I am dumb; I have waited to sing till Apollo withdrew-- 90 +So Amyclae a moment was mute, and for ever a wilderness grew. +_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew,_ + _To-morrow!--to-morrow!_ + + + + +TO +CHARLES THURSBY + +THE "ONLIE BEGETTER" + + + + +THE REGENT + +A DRAMA IN ONE ACT + + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +CARL'ANTONIO, _Duke of Adria_ + +TONINO, _his young son_ + +LUCIO; _Count of Vallescura, brother to the Duchess_ + +CESARIO, _Captain of the Guard_ + +GAMBA, _a Fool_ + + +OTTILIA, _Duchess and Regent of Adria_ + +LUCETTA, _a Lady-in-Waiting_ + +FULVIA, _a Lady of the Court_ + + +_Courtiers, Priests, Choristers, Soldiers, Mariners, +Townsfolk, etc._ + +_The Scene is the Ducal Palace of Adria, in the N. Adriatic_ + +_The Date, 1571_ + + + + +THE REGENT + +SCENE.--_A terraced courtyard before the Ducal Palace. +Porch and entrance of Chapel, R. A semicircular +balcony, L., with balustrade and marble seats, and an +opening whence a flight of steps leads down to the +city. The city lies out of sight below the terrace; +from which, between its cypresses and statuary, is +seen a straight stretch of a canal; beyond the canal are +sand-hills and the line of the open sea. Mountains, +L., dip down to the sea and form a curve of the +coast._ + +_As the curtain rises, a crowd of town and country +folk is being herded to the back of the terrace by the +Ducal Guard, under Cesario. Within the Chapel, to_ +_the sound of an organ, boys' voices are chanting the +service of the Mass._ + +_Cesario, Gamba the Fool, Guards, Populace._ + + +_Cesario._ Way there! Give room! The Regent comes from Mass. +Guards, butt them on the toes--way there! give room! +Prick me that laggard's leg-importunate fools! + +_Guards._ Room for the Regent! Room! + +[_The sacring bell rings within the Chapel._ + +_Cesario._ Hark there, the bell! + +[_A pause. Men of the crowd take off their caps._ + +Could ye not leave, this day of all the year, +Your silly suits, petitions, quarrels, pleas? +Could ye not leave, this once in seven years, +Our Lady to come holy-quiet from Mass. +Lean on the wall, and loose her cage-bird heart, +To lift and breast and dance upon the breeze. +Draws home her lord the Duke? + +_Crowd._ Long live the Duke! + +_Cesario._ The devil, then! Why darken his approach? + + +_Gamba (from the bench where he has been mending his +viol)._ Because, Captain, 'tis a property knaves +and fools have in common--to stand in their own +light, as 'tis of soldiers to talk bad logic. That +knave, now--he with the red nose and the black +eye--the Duke's colours, loyal man!--you clap +an iron on his leg, and ask him why he is not +down in the city, hanging them out of window! +Go to: you are a soldier! + +_Cesario._ And you a Fool, and on your own showing +stand in your own light. + +_Gamba._ Nay, neither in my own light, nor as a +Fool. So should myself stand between the sun +and my shadow; whereas I am not myself--these +seven years have I been but the shadow of a +Fool. Yet one must tune up for the Duke. + +_(Strikes his viol and sings.)_ + +"Bird of the South, my Rondinello----" + +Flat-Flat! + + +_Cesario (calling up to watchman on the Chapel roof)._ Ho there! What news? + +_A Voice._ Captain, no sail! + +_Cesario._ Where sits +The wind? + +_Voice._ Nor' west, and north a point! + +_Cesario._ Perchance +They have down'd sail and creep around the flats. + +_Gamba (tuning his viol)._ Flats, flats! the straight horizon, and the life +These seven years laid by rule! The curst canal +Drawn level through the drawn-out level sand +And thistle-tufts that stink as soon as pluck'd! +Give me the hot crag and the dancing heat, +Give me the Abruzzi, and the cushioned thyme-- +Brooks at my feet, high glittering snows above. +What were thy music, viol, without a ridge? + + +[_Noise of commotion in the city below._ + + +_Cesario_. Watchman, what news? + +_A Voice_. Sir, on the sea no sail! + +_One of the Crowd_. But through the town below a horseman spurs-- +I think, Count Lucio! Yes--Count Lucio! +He nears, draws rein, dismounts! + +_Cesario_. Sure, he brings news. + + +_Gamba_. I think he brings word the Duke is sick; +his loyal folk have drunk so much of his +health. + +[_A murmur has been growing in the town below. It +breaks into cheers as Count Lucio comes springing +up to the terrace._ + +_Enter Lucio._ + + +_Lucio._ News! Where's the Regent? Eh? is Mass not said? +Cesario, news! I rode across the dunes; +A pilot--Nestore--you know the man-- +Came panting. Sixteen sail beyond the point! +That's not a galley lost! + +_Crowd._ Long live the Duke! + +_Lucio._ Hark to the tocsin! I have carried fire-- +Wildfire! Why, where's my sister? I've a mind-- + + +[_He strides towards the door of the Chapel; but +pauses at the sound of chanting within, and +comes back to Cesario._ + + +Man, are you mute? I say the town's aflame +Below! But here, up here, you stand and stare +Like prisoners loosed to daylight. Rub your eyes, +Believe! + +_Cesario (musing)._ It has been long. + +_Lucio._ As tapestry +Pricked out by women's needles; point-device +As saints in fitted haloes. Yet they stab, +Those needles. Oh, the devil take their tongues! + +_Cesario._ Why, what's the matter? + +_Lucio._ P'st! another lie +Against the Countess Fulvia; and the train +Laid to my sister's ear. Cesario, +My sister is a saint--and yet she married: +Therefore should understand ... Would saints, like cobblers, +Stick but to business in this naughty world! +Ah, well! the Duke comes home. + +_Cesario._ And what of that? + +_Lucio._ Release! + +_Cesario._ Release? + +_Lucio (mocking a chant within the Chapel)._ From priests and petticoats +Deliver us, Good Lord! + +_Gamba (strikes a chord on viol). AMEN!_ + +_Cesario._ Count Lucio, +These seven years agone, when the Duke sailed, +You were a child--a pretty, forward boy; +And I a young lieutenant of the Guard, +Burning to serve abroad. But that day, rather, +I clenched my nails over an inward wound: +For that a something manlier than my years-- +Look, bearing, what-not--by the Duke not miss'd, +Condemned me to promotion: I must bide +At home, command the Guard! 'Tis an old hurt, +But scalded on my memory.... Well, they sailed! +And from the terrace here, sick with self-pity, +Wrapped in my wrong, forgetful of devoir, +I watch'd them through a mist--turned with a sob-- +Uptore my rooted sight-- + There, there she stood; +Her hand press'd to her girdle, where the babe +Stirred in her body while she gazed--she gazed-- +But slowly back controlled her eyes, met mine; +So--with how wan, how small, how brave a smile!-- +Reached me her hands to kiss ... + O royal hands! +What burdens since they have borne let Adria tell. +But hear me swear by them, Count Lucio-- +Who slights our Regent throws his glove to me. + +_Lucio._ Why, soothly, she's my sister! + +_Cesario._ 'But the court +Is dull? No masques, few banquetings--and prayers +Be long, and youth for pastime leaps the gate?' +Yet if the money husbanded on feasts +Have fed our soldiery against the Turk, +Year after year, and still the State not starved; +Was't not well done? And if, responsible +To God, and lonely, she has leaned on God +Too heavily for our patience, was't not wise?-- +And well, though weary? + +_Lucio._ I tell you, she's my sister! + +_Cesario._ Well, an you will, bridle on that. Lord Lucio, +You named the Countess Fulvia. To my sorrow, +Two hours ago I called on her and laid her +Under arrest. + +_Lucio._ The devil! For what? + +_Cesario._ For that +A lady, whose lord keeps summer in the hills +To nurse a gouty foot, should penalize +His dutiful return by shutting doors +And hanging out a ladder made of rope, +Or prove its safety by rehearsing it +Upon a heavier man. + +_Lucio._ I'll go to her. +Oh, this is infamous! + +_Cesario._ Nay, be advised: +No hardship irks the lady, save to sit +At home and feed her sparrows; nor no worse +Annoy than from her balcony to spy +(Should the eye rove) a Switzer of the Guard +At post between her raspberry-canes, to watch +And fright the thrushes from forbidden fruit. + +_Lucio._ Infamous! infamous! + +_Cesario._ Enough, my lord: +The Regent! + + +[_Doors of the Chapel open. The organ sounds, +with voices of choir chanting the recessional. +The Court enters from Mass, attending the +Regent Ottilia and her son Tonino. She wears +a crown and heavy dalmatic. Her brother +Lucio, controlling himself with an effort, kisses +her hand and conducts her to the marble bench, +which serves for her Chair of State. She bows, +receiving the homage of the crowd; but, after +seating herself, appears for a few moments unconscious +of her surroundings. Then, as her +rosary slips from her fingers and falls heavily +at her feet, she speaks._ + +_Regent._ So slips the chain linking this world with Heaven, +And drops me back to earth: so slips the chain +That hangs my spirit to the Redeemer's cross +Above pollution in the pure swept air +Whereunder frets this hive: so slips the chain-- +_(She starts up)_--God! the dear sound! Was that his anchor dropped? +Speak to the watchman, one! Call to the watch! +What news? + +_Cesario._ Aloft! What news? + +_Voice above._ No sail as yet! + +_Regent._ Ah, pardon, sirs! My ears are strung to-day, +And play false airs invented by the wind. +Methought a hawse-pipe rattled ... + +_Gamba (chants to his viol). Shepherds, see-- +Lo! What a mariner love hath made me!_ + +_Regent._ What chants the Fool? + +_Gamba._ Madonna, 'tis a trifle +Made by a silly poet on wives that stand +All night at windows listening the surf-- +_Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no!_ + +_Lucio._ Peace, lively! Madam, there is news--brave news! +I'm from the watch-house. There the pilots tell +Of sixteen sail to the southward! Sixteen sail, +And nearing fast! + +_Regent._ Praise God! dear Lucio! + + +[_She has seated herself again. She takes Lucio's +hand and speaks, petting it._ + + +What? Glowing with my happiness? That's like you. +But for yourself the hour, too, holds release. + +_Lucio (between sullenness and shame, with a glance at +Cesario)._ "Release?" + +_Regent._ You will forgive? I have great need +To be forgiven: sadly I have been slack +In guardianship, and by so much betrayed +My promise to our mother's passing soul. +Myself in cares immersed, I left the child +Among his toys--and turn to find him man-- +But yet so much a boy that boyhood can +_(Wistfully)_ Laugh in his honest eyes? Forgive me, Lucio! +Tell me, whate'er have slackened, there has slipped +No knot of love. To-morrow we'll make sport, +Be playmates and invent new games, and old-- +Wreath flowers for crowns-- + + +[_He drags his hand away. She gazes at him +wistfully, and turns to the Captain of the +Guard._ + + + Cesario, +What are the suits? + +_Cesario._ They are but three to-day, +Madonna. First, a scoundrel here in irons +For having struck the Guard. + +_Regent (eying the culprit)._ His name, I think, +Is Donatello Crocco. Hey? You improve, +Good man. The last time 'twas your wife you basted. +At this rate, in another year or two +You'll bang the Turk. Do you confess the assault? + +_Prisoner._ I do. + +_Regent._ Upon a promise we dismiss you. +Your tavern, as it comes into our mind, +Is the 'Three Cups.' So many, and no more, +You'll drink to-day--have we your word? Three cups, +And each a _Viva_ for the Duke's return. + +_Prisoner._ Your Highness, I'll not take it at the price +Of my good manners. I'm a gallant man: +And who in Adria calls. 'Three cheers for the Duke!' +But adds a fourth for the Duchess? Lady, nay; +Grant me that fourth, or back I go to the cells! + + +[_The Regent laughs and nods to the Guard to release +him._ + + +_Regent._ What next? + +_An Old Woman (very rapidly)._ Your Highness will not know me--Zia +Agnese, Giovannucci's wife that was; +And feed a two-three cows, as a widow may, +On the marshes where the grass is salt and sweet +As your Highness knows--and always true to pail +Until this Nicolo-- + +_Nicolo._ Lies! lies, your Highness! + +_Old Woman._ Having a quarrel, puts the evil eye +On Serafina. She's my best of cows, +In stall with calf but ten days weaned. + +_Nicolo._ Lies! lies! + +_Old Woman._ I would your Highness saw her! When that thief +Hangs upon Lazarus' bosom, he'll be bidding +A ducat for each drop of milk he's cost me, +To cool his tongue. + +_Regent._ Ay--ay, the cow is sick, +I think; and mind me, being country-bred, +Of a cure for such: which is, to buy a comb +And comb the sufferer's tail at feeding-time. +If Zia Agnese do but this, she'll counter +The Evil Eye, and maybe with her own +Detect who thieves her Serafina's hay. + +_Old Woman._ God bless your Highness! + +_Nicolo._ God bless your Highness! + +_Regent (taking up a fresh suit)._Why, what's here? "_Costanza, +Wife of Giuseppe Boni, citeth him +And sueth to live separate, for neglect +And divers beatings, as to wit----_" H'm, h'm-- +_Likewise to keep the child Geronimo, +Begotten of his body._ You defend +The suit, Giuseppe? + +_A Young Peasant (shrugs his shoulders)._ As the woman will! +I'll not deny I beat her. + +_Regent._ But neglect! +How came you to neglect her? Look on her-- +The handsome, frowsy slut, that, by appearance, +Hath never washed her body since she wed. +A beating we might pass. But how neglect +To take her by the neck unto the pump +And hold her till her wet and furious face +Were once again worth kissing? Well--well--well! +Neglect is proven. She shall have deserts: +_(To a Clerk)_ But--write, "Defendant keeps his lawful child." + +_Young Peasant._ My lady-- + +_Wife._ Nay, my lady-- + +_Regent._ Eh? What's this? + +_Wife._ The poor _bambino_! Nay, 'twas not the suit! +How should Giuseppe, being a fool, a man-- + +_Young Peasant._ Aye, aye: that's sense. I love him: still, you see-- + +_Regent._ An if my judgment suit you not, go home, +The pair. _(As they are going she calls the woman back.)_ + Costanza! hath your husband erred +With other woman? + +_Young Peasant_. Never! + +_Wife_. I'll not charge him +With that. + +_Regent_. But, yes, you may. This man hath held +Another woman to his breast. + +_Wife_. Her name? +That I may tear her eyes! + +_Regent_. Her name's Costanza. +The same Costanza that, with body washed, +With ribbon in her hair, light in her eyes, +Arrayed a cottage to allure his heart. +Go home, poor fools, and find her!... + Heigh! No others? [_Heaves a sigh._ +Captain, dismiss the Guard. The watch, aloft-- +Set him elsewhere. We would not be o'erlooked. +You only, Lucio--you, Lucetta--stay; +You for a while, Cesario. + + [_Exeunt Courtiers, Guard, Crowd, etc._ + +Heigh! that's over-- +The last Court of the Regent; and the books +Accounts of stewardship, my seven years all, +Closed here for audit. + Nay, there's one thing more-- +Brother, erewhile I spoke you sisterly, +You turned away, and still you bite your lip: +Signs that may short my preface. It concerns +The Countess Fulvia. + +_Lucio_. Ha! + +_Regent_. Go, bring her, Captain. + + [_Exit Cesario_. + +List to me, Lucio: listen, brother dear, +First playmate-child, tending whose innocence +Myself learned motherhood. Shall I deny +Youth to be loved and follow after love? +There is a love breaks like a morning beam +On the husht novice kneeling by his arms; +And worse there is, whose kisses strangle love, +Whose feet take hold of hell. My Lucio, + Follow not that! + +_Lucio_. Why, who--who hath maligned + The Countess? + +_Regent_ Not maligned. Lucetta, here-- + +_Lucio_. Lucetta! Curse Lucetta and her tongue! + Am I a child, to be nagged by waiting-maids? + +_Regent_. No, but a man, and shall weigh evidence. + +_Lucio_. But I'll not hear it! If her viper tongue + Can kill, why kill it must. But send me a man, + And I will smite his mouth--ay, slit his tongue-- + That dares defame the Countess! + +_Regent_. Stay: she comes. + + [_Enter the Countess Fulvia, Cesario attending._ + + Madam, the reason wherefore you are summoned + No doubt you guess, from a rude earlier call + Our Captain paid you. Certain practices, + Which you may force me name, are charged upon + you +On testimony you may force me call + And may with freedom question. + +_Fulvia_. I'll not question: + No, nor I will not answer. + +_Lucio_. Then I'll answer!' + For me, for all, she is innocent! + +_Regent_. For you? + We'll hope it: but 'for all' 's more wide an oath + Than you can swear, sir. I'll not bandy you + Words nor debate. Myself the ladder saw; + Lucetta, here, the ladder and the man. + _What_ man she will not say. Cesario + Has tracked his footprint on her garden plots. + Must we say more? + +_Fulvia_. No need. Her fingering mind + Is a close cupboard turning all things rancid. + +_Lucio_. Yea, for such wry-necks all the world's a lawn + To peek and peer and pounce a sinful worm; + The fatter, the more luscious. + +_Regent. _ Lucio, + This woman nought gainsays. + +_Fulvia (fiercely)._ As why should I? + I'll question not, nor answer. 'Neath your brow + My sentence hunches, crawls, like cat to spring. + Pah! there's no prude will match your virtuous wife + You'd banish me? + +_Regent._ I do. Cesario, + See to it the City gate shuts not to-night. + And she this side. + +_Fulvia (laughs recklessly)._ To-night? To-night's your own. + Most modest woman! Duchess, there's a well + By the road, some seven miles beyond the town. + There, 'neath the stars, I'll dip a hand and drink + To the good Duke's disport. But have a care! + That cup's not yet to lip. + +_Regent. _ Captain, remove her. + Lucio, remain. + +_[Exeunt the Countess Fulvia, Cesario following]_ + +_Lucio._ I'll not remain--When ice + Sits judge of fire, what justice shall be done? + Sister, there be your books--peruse them. There + The sea-line--bide you so with back to it. + While the cold inward heat of cruelty + Warms what was once your heart, now crusted o'er + With duty and slimed with poisonous drip of tongues. + God help the Duke, if what he left he'd find! + + _[Exit Lucio]_ + +_Regent._ Is't so, I wonder? Go, Lucetta, fetch + My glass, if haply I may tell. + + _[Exit Lucetta.]_ + + Is't so? + And have these years enforced, encrusted me + To something monstrous, neither woman nor man? +My lord, my lord! too heavy was the load + You laid! Yet I'll not blame you: for myself + Ruled the straight path the long account correct + As in these books, my ledgers.... + + [_While she turns the pages, Gamba the Fool creeps + in and hoists himself on the balustrade. He + tries his viol, and sings_. + +SONG: _Gamba_. + + Bird of the South, my Rondinello-- + +_Regent_. Hey? That Song! + +_Gamba_. Hie to me, fly to me, steel-blue mate! + Under my breast-knot flutters thy fellow; + Here can I rest not, and thou so late. + Home, to me, home! + 'Love, love, I come!' + --Dear one, I wait! +_Quanno nacesti tu, nacqui pur io: +La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio_! +You know the song, madonna? + +_Regent_. Ay, fool. Sit + Here at my feet, sing on. + +_Gamba (sings)._ + + Bird of the South, my Rondinello + Under thy wing my heart hath lain + Till the rain falling on last leaves yellow + Drumm'd to thee, calling southward again. + Home, to me, home! + 'Love, love, I come!' + Ah, love, the pain! + _Addio, addio! ed un' altra volt' addio! + La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio! +(Pause)._ + A foolish rustic thing the shepherd wives + In our Abruzzi croon by winter fires, + Of their husbands in the plains. + +_Regent_. Gamba! + +_Gamba_. Madonna? + +_Regent_. I'd make thee my confessor. Mindest thou, + By Villalago, where from Sanno's lake + The stream, our Tasso, hurls it down the glen? + One noon, with Lucio--ever in those days + With Lucio--on a rock within the spray, + I wove a ferny garland, while the boy + Roamed, but returned in triumph, having trapped + A bee in a bell-flower--held it to my ear, + Laughing, dissembling that he feared to loose + The hairy thief. So laughed we--and were still, + As deep in Vallescura wound a horn, + And up the pathway 'neath the dappling bough + Came riding--flecked with sunshine, man and horse,-- + My lord, my lover; and that song, that song + Upon his lips.... + +_Voice of Watchman_. Sail ho! a sail! a sail! + + _[Murmur of populace below. It grows and swells to + a roar as enter hurriedly courtiers, guards, and + others: Cesario; Lucetta with mirror._] + +_Lucetta_. My lady! O my lady!-- + +_Cesario_. See, they near! + Galley on galley--look, there, by the point! + +_Regent_. O, could my heart keep tally with the surge + That here comes crowding! + +_Lucetta_. Joy, my lady! Joy! + +_All_. Joy! Joy, my lady! + + _[They press flowers on her. A pause, while they + watch. On the canal the galleys come into + sight. They near: and as the oars rise and + fall, the rowers' chorus is borne from the distance. + It is the Rondinello song_ + +_Chorus in Distance. La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio!_ + +_Regent_. Thanks, my good, good friends! + And deem it not discourteous if alone +I'd tune my heart to bliss. + My glass, Lucetta! + + _[Takes mirror.]_ + + Some thoughts there are--some thoughts---- + +_Courtiers_. God save you, madam! + + _[They go out, leaving the Regent alone._] + +_Regent (she loosens the clasp of her robe)._ Some thoughts +--some thoughts-- + Fall from me, envious robe! + Rest there, my crown--thou more than leaden ache! + Ah!-- + God! What a mountain drops! I float--I am lifted + Like thistledown on nothing. Back, my crown-- + Weight me to earth! Nay, nay, thy rim shall bite + No more upon this forehead ... Where's my glass? + O mirror, mirror, hath it bit so deep? + My love is coming, hark! O, say not grey, +Sweet mirror! Tell, what time to cure it now? + And he so near, so near! + How shall I meet him? + Why how but as the river leaps to sea, + Steel to its magnet, child to mother's arms? + + [_She catches up flowers from the baskets left by the + courtiers, and decks herself mildly._ + + Flowers for my hair, flowers at the breast! Sweet flowers, + He'll crush you 'gainst his corslet. He has arms + Like bands of iron for clasping, has my love. + He'll hurt, he'll hurt ... But oh, sweet flowers, to lie + And feel you helpless while he grips and bruises + Your weak protesting breasts! You'll die in bliss, + Panting your fragrance out.-- + Wh'st! Hush, poor fool! + I have unlearned love's very alphabet. + Men like us coy, demure ... Then I'll coquet +And play Madam Disdain--but not to-day. + To-morrow I'll be shrewish, shy, perverse, + Exacting, cold--all April in my moods: + We'll walk the forest, and I'll slip from him, + Hide me like Dryad 'mid the oaks, and mark + His hot dark face pursuing; or I'll couch + In covert green, and hold my breath to hear + His blundering foot go by; then up I'll leap, + And run--and he'll run after. O this lightness! + I'll draw him like a fairy, dance and double-- + Yet not so fast but he shall overtake + At length, and catch me panting. O, I charge you, + I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, + Wake not my love beneath the forest bough + Where we lie dreaming! + + _[Fanfare of trumpets in the distance.]_ + + Trumpets, hark! and drums! + They have landed! From the quay they march! + Flowers! flowers! +They are near ... I see him!... Carlo! lord and love! + He looks--waves--O 'tis he! O foolish heart!-- + I had feared he'd ta'en a wound. + What is't they shout? + Eh? 'Victory!'--yes, yes. He's browner, thinner; + And the dear eyes, how gaunt!... Yes + 'Victory!' + 'Victory!' ... lord, and love!,.. + +_[The shouts of acclamation are heard now close +under the terrace. Spears and banners are +seen trooping past. Beside herself, she throws +flowers to them, laughing, weeping the while. +Then, running to the Chapel door, she +prostrates herself before the image of the +Virgin that crowns its archway.]_ + + O Mary, Mother! + Thou, in whose breast all women's thoughts have moved, + All woman's passions heaved. Lo! I adore! + Sweet Mother, hold my hands, rejoice with me: + My bridegroom cometh! + +[_During this invocation the Countess Fulvia has +crept in, a stiletto in her hand. She leans +over the Regent and stabs her twice in the +breast.]_ + +_Fulvia._ Then with that!--and that! + Go meet him! + +_Regent_ (_turns, looks up, and falls on her face_). + Oh! I am slain! + +_Fulvia._ And I am worse! + But there's my flower, my red flower, on your breast.-- + Go, meet your lord and show it! + +[_She passes down the steps as Lucetta runs in.]_ + +_Lucetta._ Madam! Madam! + The Duke is at the gate--Madam!-- + Christ! she is murdered! Murder! Murder! + +_Regent._ Fie, +Lucetta! peace! What word to greet the Duke +For his home-coming! Lift me ... Quick, my robe-- +My Crown! Call no one. O, but hasten! + +_Lucetta_ (_helpless, wringing her hands_). Madam! + +_Regent._ I need your strength, and must I steady you? +Lucetta, years ago you disarrayed me +Upon my bridal night. I would you'd whisper +The rogueries your tongue invented then. +I have few moments, girl ... I'd have them wanton. +Make jest this mantle hides the maid I was. +I'll have no priest, no doctor--Fetch Tonino! +I must present his son-- +[_Lucetta runs out._ +All's acted quick: +Bride-bed, conception, birth--and death! But he +Shall sum it in one moment death not takes ... +What noise of trumpets!... Is the wound not covered? + +[_She wraps herself carefully in her mantle as the +courtiers pour in. The child Tonino runs to +her and stands by her side. Lucio, Cesario, +all the Court, group themselves round her as +the Duke enters. He rushes in eagerly; but +she sets her teeth on her anguish, and receives +him with a low reverence._ + +Welcome my lord! + +_Duke._ Ottilia! + +_Regent._ Good my lord, +Welcome! This day is bright restores you to +Your loyal Duchy. + +Duke (_impatient_). Wife! Ottilia! + +_Regent_ (_she lifts a hand to keep him at distance_). +There must be forms, my lord--some forms! Cesario, +Render the Duke his sceptre. As bar to socket, +When the gate closes on a town secure, +So locks this rod back to his manly clutch-- +Cry all, 'Long live the Duke!' + +_All._ Long live the Duke! + +_Duke._ Wife, make an end with forms! + +_Lucio_ (_to Cesario_). And so say I! +A man would think my sister had no blood +In her body. + +_Cesario_ (_watching the Regent_). Peace, man: something +there's amiss. + +_Regent._ Yet here is he that sceptre shall inherit. +Lucetta, lead his first-born to the Duke. +His first-born!--Nay but look on him how straight +Of limb, how set and shoulder-square, tho' slender! +He'll sit a horse, in time, and toss a lance +Even with his father. + +_Duke._ There's my blessing, boy! +But stand aside. Look in my face, Ottilia-- +Hearken me, all! One thing these seven years +My life hath lacked, which wanting, all your cannon, +Your banners, _vivas_, bells that rock the roofs, +Throng'd windows, craning faces--all--all--all +Were phantasms, were noise.-- + +_Lucio_ (_exclaims_). Why look, here's blood! +Here, on the boy's hand! + +_Regent._ Ay! a scratch, no worse, +Here, when I pinned my robe. + +_Duke_ (_continuing_). Nay, friends, this moment +My Duchy her dear hand restores to me +To me's a dream. More buoyant would I tread +Dumb street, deserted square, climb ruin'd wall, +Where in a heap beneath a broken flag +Lay Adria.-- +So that amid the ruins stood my love +And stretched her hands so faintly--stretched her hands +So faintly. See! She's mine! She lifts them-- + +_Regent_ (_totters and falls into his arms with a tired, happy +laugh, which ends in a cry as his arms enfold her_). Ah! + + [_She faints._ + +_Duke_. (_after a moment, releasing her a little_). What's +here? Ottilia! + +_Lucetta._ My mistress swoons! + +_A Courtier._ 'Tis happiness-- + +_Duke._ Fetch water! + +_Lucio._ Nay this blood-- + Came of no scratch! + +_Lucetta._ Loosen her bodice-- + +_Duke._ Blood? + Why blood? Where's blood? + +(_Stares as the mantle is imclasped and falls open_). + Ah, my God! + +_Lucetta._ Murder! murder! +The Countess Fulvia-- + +_Cesario._ Speak! + +_Lucetta._ There--while she knelt-- +Stabbed her, and fled. + +_Cesario._ Which way? + +[_Lucetta points to the stairs. He dashes off in +pursuit._ + +_Duke._ All-seeing God! +Where were thine eyes, or else thy justice? Dead? +O, never dead! + +_Lucio._ Ay, Duke, push God aside, +As I push thee. I have the better right: +I killed her--I. O never pass, sweet soul, +Till thou hast drunk a shudder of this wretch, +Thy brother, playmate, murderer! + +_Duke._ Wine! bring wine-- + +_Regent_ (_as the wine is brought and revives her_). +Flower, he will crush thee--but the bliss, the bliss! +I swim in bliss. What ... Lucio? Where's my lord? +Dear, bring him: he was here awhile and held me. +Say he must hold, or the light air will lift +And bear me quite away. + +[_Re-enter Cesario. In one hand he carries his +sword, in the other a dagger._ + +_Lucio._ Cesario! +What! Is that devil escaped? To think--to think +I drank her kisses!--What? Where is she? + +_Cesario._ Dead. +I raised the cry: the people pointed after; +Ran with me, ravening. Just this side the bridge +She heard our howl and turned--drew back the dagger +Red with our lady's blood, then drove it home +Clean to her own black heart. + +_Regent._ God pardon her! +I would what blood of mine clung to the blade +Might mix with hers and sweeten it for mercy. + +_Lucio._ Will you forgive her? Then forgive not me! + +_Regent._ Dear Lucio!--You'll not pluck away your hand +This time? Hush! Where's Cesario?... Friend, farewell. +Where lies the body? + +_Cesario._ Sooth, madonna, I flung it +To the river's will, to roll it down to sea +Or cast on muddy bar, for dogs to gnaw. + +_Regent._ The river? Ah! How strong the river rolls! +Hold me, my lord-- + +_Duke._ Love, love, I hold you + +_Regent._--Ay! +The child, too--You will hold the child?... + This roar +Deafens but will not drown us. + +[_Within the Chapel the choir is chanting a dirge. +Gamba goes and closes the door on the sound: +then creeps to the foot of the couch. The +dying woman gently motions aside the cross +a priest is holding to her, and looks up at her +husband._ + +[_Below the terrace a voice is heard singing the +Rondinello song._ + + Look! beyond +Be waters where no galley moves with oar, +So wide, so waveless,--and, between the woods, +Meadows--O land me there!... Hark, my lord's voice +Singing in Vallescura! Soft my, love, +I am so tired--so tired! Love, let me play! +[_Dies._ + +[_The Courtiers lift the body in silence and bear it +to the Chapel, the Duke and his train following. +The doors close on them. On the stage are +left only Cesario, standing by the balustrade; +and Gamba, who has seated himself with his +viol and touches it, as still the voice sings +below--_ + +Addio, Addio! ed un'altra volt'addio! +La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio! + +[_On the last note a string of the viol cracks, and with +a cry the Fool flings himself, heart-broken, on +the empty couch. Cesario steps forward and +stands over him, touching his shoulder gently._ + +CURTAIN. + + + + +POEMS + + + + +EXMOOR VERSES + +I. VASHTI'S SONG + + +Over the rim of the Moor, + And under the starry sky, +Two men came to my door + And rested them thereby. + +Beneath the bough and the star, + In a whispering foreign tongue, +They talked of a land afar + And the merry days so young! + +Beneath the dawn and the bough + I heard them arise and go: +And my heart it is aching now + For the more it will never know. + +Why did they two depart + Before I could understand? +Where lies that land, O my heart? + --O my heart, where lies that land? + + + +II. SATURN + + +From my farm, from her farm + Furtively we came. +In either home a hearth was warm: + We nursed a hungrier flame. + +Our feet were foul with mire, + Our faces blind with mist; +But all the night was naked fire + About us where we kiss'd. + +To her farm, to my farm, + Loathing we returned; +Pale beneath a gallow's arm + The planet Saturn burned. + + + +III. DERELICTION + + +O'er the tears that we shed, dear + The bitter vines twist, +And the hawk and the red deer + They keep where we kiss'd: +All broken lies the shieling + That sheltered from rain, +With a star to pierce the ceiling, + And the dawn an empty pane. + +Thro' the mist, up the moorway, + Fade hunters and pack; +From the ridge to thy doorway + Happy voices float back ... +O, between the threads o' mist, love, + Reach your hands from the house. +Only mind that we kiss'd, love, + And forget the broken vows! + + + + +TWO FOLK SONGS + +I. THE SOLDIER + +(_Roumanian_) + + +_When winter trees bestrew the path, + Still to the twig a leaf or twain +Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath, + But that foreknown forlorner pain-- + To fall when green leaves come again._ + +I watch'd him sleep by the furrow-- + The first that fell in the fight. +His grave they would dig to-morrow: + The battle called them to-night. + +They bore him aside to the trees, there, + By his undigg'd grave content +To lie on his back at ease there, + And hark how the battle went. + +The battle went by the village, + And back through the night were borne +Far cries of murder and pillage, + With smoke from the standing corn. + +But when they came on the morrow, + They talk'd not over their task, +As he listen'd there by the furrow; + For the dead mouth could not ask-- + +_How went the battle, my brothers?_ + But that he will never know: +For his mouth the red earth smothers + As they shoulder their spades and go. + +Yet he cannot sleep thereunder, + But ever must toss and turn. +_How went the battle, I wonder?_ + --And that he will never learn! + +_When winter trees bestrew the path, + Still to the twig a leaf or twain +Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath, + But that foreknown, forlorner pain-- +To fall when green leaves come again!_ + + + +II. THE MARINE + +(_Poitevin_) + + +The bold Marine comes back from war, + So kind: +The bold Marine comes back from war, + So kind: +With a raggety coat and a worn-out shoe. +"Now, poor Marine, say, whence come you, + All so kind?" + +I travel back from the war, madame, + So kind: +I travel back from the war, madame, + So kind: +For a glass of wine and a bowl of whey, +'Tis I will sing you a ballad gay, + All so kind. + +The bold Marine he sips his whey, + So kind: +He sips and he sings his ballad gay, + So kind: +But the dame she turns toward the wall, +To wipe her tears that fall and fall, + All so kind. + +What aileth you at my song, madame, + So kind? +I hope that I sing no wrong, madame, + So kind? + +Or grieves it you a beggar should dine +On a bowl of whey and the good white wine, + All so kind? + +It ails me not at your ballad gay, + So kind: +It ails me not for the wine and whey, + So kind: + +But it ails me sore for the voice and eyes +Of a good man long in Paradise.-- + Ah, so kind! + +You have fair children five, madame, + So kind: +You have fair children five, madame, + So kind: + +Your good man left you children three; +Whence came these twain for company, + All so kind? + +"A letter came from the war, Marine, + So kind: +A letter came from the war, Marine, + So kind: +A while I wept for the good man dead, +But another good man in a while I wed, + All so kind." + +The bold Marine he drained his glass, + So kind: +The bold Marine he drained his glass, + So kind. +He said not a word, though the tears they flowed, +But back to his regiment took the road, + All so kind. + + + + +MARY LESLIE + + +_Before Vittoria, June_ 20, 1813 + + +O Mary Leslie, blithe and shrill + The bugles blew for Spain: +And you below the Castle Hill + Stood in the crowd your lane. +Then hearts were wild to watch us pass, + Yet laith to let us go! +While mine said, "Fare-ye-well, my lass!" + And yours, "God keep my Jo!" + +Here by the bivouac fire, above + These fields of savage play, +I'll lift my love to meet thy love + Twa thousand miles away, + +Where yonder, yonder by the stars, + Nightlong there rins a burn, +And maids with lovers at the wars + May list their wraiths' return. + +More careless yet my spirit grows + Of fame, more sick of blood: +But I can think of Badajoz, + And yet that God is good. +Beyond the siege, beyond the stour, + Beyond the sack of towns, +I reach to pluck ae lily-floo'r + Where leaders press for crowns. + +O Mary! lily! bow'd and wet + With mair than mornin's rain! +The bugles up the Lawnmarket + Shall sound us home again. + +Then fare-ye-well, these foreign lands, + And be damn'd their bitter drouth. +With your dear face between my hands + And the cup held to my mouth, + My love, +It's clean cup to my mouth! + + + + +JENIFER'S LOVE + + +Small is my secret--let it pass-- + Small in your life the share I had, +Who sat beside you in the class, + Awed by the bright superior lad: + Whom yet with hot and eager face + I prompted when he missed his place. + +For you the call came swift and soon: + But sometimes in your holidays +You meet me trudging home at noon + To dinner through the dusty ways, + And recognized, and with a nod + Passed on, but never guessed--thank God! + +Truly our ways were separate. + I bent myself to hoe and drill, + +Yea, with an honest man to mate, + Fulfilling God Almighty's will; + And bore him children. But my prayers + Were yours--and, only after, theirs. + +While you--still loftier, more remote, + You sprang from stair to stair of fame, +And you've a riband on your coat, + And you've a title to your name; + But have you yet a star to shine + Above your bed, as I o'er mine? + + + + +TWO DUETS + + +_From "Arion," an unpublished Masque_ + +I + + +_He._ Aglai-a! Aglai-a! + Sweet, awaken and be glad. +_She._ Who is this that calls Aglaia? + Is it thou, my dearest lad? +_He._ 'Tis Arion, 'tis Arion, + Who calls thee from sleep-- + From slumber who bids thee + To follow and number + His kids and his sheep. +_She._ Nay, leave to entreat me! + If mother should spy on + Us twain, she would beat me. +_He._ Then come, my love, come! + And hide with Arion + Where green woods are dumb! + +_She._ Ar-i-on! Ar-i-on! + Closer, list! I am afraid! + +_He._ Whisper, then, thy love Arion, + From thy window, lily maid. + +_She._ Yet Aglaia, yet Aglaia + Hath heard them debate + Of wooing repenting-- + "Who trust to undoing, + Lament them too late." + +_He._ Nay, nay, when I woo thee, + Thy mother might spy on + All harm I shall do thee. + +_She._ I come, then--I come! + To follow Arion + Where green woods be dumb. + + + + +SONG + + Sparrow of Love, so sharp to peck, + Arrow of Love--I bare my neck + Down to the bosom. See, no fleck + + Of blood! I have never a wound; I go + Forth to the greenwood. Yet, heigh-ho! + What 'neath my girdle flutters so? + + 'Tis not a bird, and yet hath wings, + 'Tis not an arrow, yet it stings; + While in the wound it nests and sings-- + Heigh-ho! + +_He._ Of Arion, of Arion + That wound thou shalt learn; + What nothings 'tis made of, + And soft pretty soothings + In shade of the fern. + +_She._ When maids have a mind to, + Man's word they rely on, + Old warning are blind to-- + I come, then--I come + To walk with Arion + Where green woods are dumb! + + + II + + +_He._ Dear my love, and O my love, + And O my love so lately! + Did we wander yonder grove + And sit awhile sedately? + For either you did there conclude + To do at length as I did, + Or passion's fashion's turn'd a prude, + And troth's an oath derided. + +_She._ Yea, my love--and nay, my love-- + And ask me not to tell, love, + While I delay'd an idle day + What 'twixt us there befell, love. + Yet either I did sit beside + And do at length as you did, + Or my delight is lightly by + An idle lie deluded! + + + + +THE STATUES AND THE TEAR + + + All night a fountain pleads, + Telling her beads, +Her tinkling beads monotonous 'neath the moon; + And where she springs atween, + Two statues lean-- +Two Kings, their marble beards with moonlight + strewn. + + Till hate had frozen speech, + Each hated each, +Hated and died, and went unto his place: + And still inveterate + They lean and hate +With glare of stone implacable, face to face. + +One, who bade set them here + In stone austere, +To both was dear, and did not guess at all: + Yet with her new-wed lord + Walking the sward +Paused, and for two dead friends a tear let fall. + + She turn'd and went her way. + Yet in the spray +The shining tear attempts, but cannot lie. + Night-long the fountain drips, + But even slips +Untold that one bead of her rosary: + While they, who know it would + Lie if it could, +Lean on and hate, watching it, eye to eye. + + + + +NUPTIAL NIGHT + + +Hush! and again the chatter of the starling + Athwart the lawn! +Lean your head close and closer. O my darling!-- + It is the dawn. +Dawn in the dusk of her dream, + Dream in the hush of her bosom, unclose! +Bathed in the eye-bright beam, + Blush to her cheek, be a blossom, a rose! + +Go, nuptial night! the floor of Ocean tressing + With moon and star; +With benediction go and breathe thy blessing + On coasts afar. + +Hark! the theorbos thrum + O'er the arch'd wave that in white smother booms +"Mother of Mystery, come! + Fain for thee wait other brides, other grooms!" + +Go, nuptial night, my breast of hers bereaving! + Yet, O, tread soft! +Grow day, blithe day, the mountain shoulder heaving + More gold aloft! +Gold, rose, bird of the dawn, + All to her balcony gather unseen-- +Thrill through the curtain drawn, + Bless her, bedeck her, and bathe her, my Queen! + + + + +HESPERUS + + +Down in the street the last late hansoms go + Still westward, but with backward eyes of red + The harlot shuffles to her lonely bed; +The tall policeman pauses but to throw +A flash into the empty portico; + Then he too passes, and his lonely tread + Links all the long-drawn gas-lights on a thread +And ties them to one planet swinging low. + +O Hesperus! O happy star! to bend + O'er Helen's bosom in the tranced west-- + To watch the hours heave by upon her breast +And at her parted lip for dreams attend: + If dawn defraud thee, how shall I be deem'd. + Who house within that bosom, and am dreamed? + + + + +CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE + + +Who lives in suit of armour pent + And hides himself behind a wall, +For him is not the great event, + The garland nor the Capitol. +And is God's guerdon less than they? + Nay, moral man, I tell thee Nay: +Nor shall the flaming forts be won + By sneaking negatives alone, +By Lenten fast or Ramazan; + But by the challenge proudly thrown-- +_Virtue is that becrowns a Man!_ + +God, in His Palace resident + Of Bliss, beheld our sinful ball, +And charged His own Son innocent + Us to redeem from Adam's fall. + +"Yet must it be that men Thee slay." +"Yea, tho' it must, must I obey," +Said Christ; and came, His royal Son, +To die, and dying to atone + For harlot, thief, and publican. +Read on that rood He died upon-- + _Virtue is that becrowns a Man!_ + +Beneath that rood where He was bent + I saw the world's great captains all +Pass riding home from tournament + Adown the road from Roncesvalles-- +Lord Charlemagne, in one array +Lords Caesar, Cyrus, Attila, +Lord Alisaundre of Macedon ... +With flame on lance and habergeon + They passed, and to the rataplan +Of drums gave salutation-- + _"Virtue is that becrowns a Man!"_ +Had tall Achilles lounged in tent + For aye, and Xanthus neigh'd in stall, +The towers of Troy had ne'er been shent, + Nor stay'd the dance in Priam's hall. +Bend o'er thy book till thou be grey, +Read, mark, perpend, digest, survey, +Instruct thee deep as Solomon, +One only chapter thou canst con, + One lesson learn, one sentence scan, +One title and one colophon-- + _Virtue is that becrowns a Man!_ + +High Virtue's best is eloquent + With spur and not with martingall: +Swear not to her thou'rt continent: + BE COURTEOUS, BRAVE, AND LIBERAL. +God fashion'd thee of chosen clay +For service, nor did ever say, +"Deny thee this," "Abstain from yon," +But to inure thee, thew and bone. + To be confirmed of the clan +That made immortal Marathon-- + _Virtue is that becrowns a Man!_ + + + ENVOY + + +Young Knight, the lists are set to-day! +Hereafter shall be time to pray +In sepulture, with hands of stone. +Ride, then! outride the bugle blown! + And gaily dinging down the van, +Charge with a cheer--_"Set on! Set on! + Virtue is that becrowns a Man!"_ + + + + +CORONATION HYMN + + + _Tune_--Luther's Chorale + "Ein' feste burg ist unser Gott" + + I + +Of old our City hath renown. + Of God are her foundations, +Wherein this day a King we crown + Elate among the nations. + Acknowledge, then, thou King-- + And you, ye people, sing-- + What deeds His arm hath wrought: + Yea, let their tale be taught + To endless generations. + + II + +So long, so far, Jehovah guides + His people's path attending, +By pastures green and water-sides + Toward His hill ascending; + Whence they beneath the stars + Shall view their ancient wars, + Their perils, far removed. + O might of mercy proved! + O love past comprehending! + + III + +He was that God, for man which spake + From Sinai forth in thunder; +He was that Love, for man which brake + The dreadful grave asunder. + Lord over every lord, + His consecrating word + An earthly prince awaits; + Lift then your heads, ye gates! + Your King comes riding under. + +IV + +Be ye lift up, ye deathless doors; + Let wave your banners o'er Him! +Exult, ye streets; be strewn, ye floors, + With palm, with bay, before Him! + With transport fetch Him in, + Ye ransom'd folk from sin-- + Your Lord, return'd to bless! + O kneeling king, confess-- + O subject men, adore Him! + + + + +THREE MEN OF TRURO + +I + +E. W. B. + +_Archbishop of Canterbury: sometime the First Bishop +of Truro. October_ 1896 + + The Church's outpost on a neck of land-- + By ebb of faith the foremost left the last-- + Dull, starved of hope, we watched the driven sand + Blown through the hour-glass, covering our past, + Counting no hours to our relief--no hail + Across the hills, and on the sea no sail! + + Sick of monotonous days we lost account, + In fitful dreams remembering days of old +And nights--th' erect Archangel on the Mount + With sword that drank the dawn; the Vase of Gold + The moving Grail athwart the starry fields + Where all the heavenly spearmen clashed their + shields. + + In dereliction by the deafening shore + We sought no more aloft, but sunk our eyes, + Probing the sea for food, the earth for ore. + Ah, yet had one good soldier of the skies + Burst through the wrack reporting news of them, + How had we run and kissed his garment's hem! + + Nay, but he came! Nay, but he stood and cried, + Panting with joy and the fierce fervent race, + "Arm, arm! for Christ returns!"--and all our pride, + Our ancient pride, answered that eager face: + "Repair His battlements!--Your Christ is near!" + And, half in dream, we raised the soldiers' cheer. + +Far, as we flung that challenge, fled the ghosts-- + Back, as we built, the obscene foe withdrew-- + High to the song of hammers sang the hosts + Of Heaven--and lo! the daystar, and a new + Dawn with its chalice and its wind as wine; + And youth was hope, and life once more divine! + + * * * * * + + Day, and hot noon, and now the evening glow, + And 'neath our scaffolding the city spread + Twilit, with rain-wash'd roofs, and--hark!--below, + One late bell tolling. "Dead? Our Captain dead?" + Nay, here with us he fronts the westering sun + With shaded eyes and counts the wide fields won. + + Aloft with us! And while another stone + Swings to its socket, haste with trowel and hod! + Win the old smile a moment ere, alone, + Soars the great soul to bear report to God. + Night falls; but thou, dear Captain, from thy star + Look down, behold how bravely goes the war! + + + + +II + +A. B. D. + +_Canon Residentiary and Precentor of Truro +December_ 1903 + + Many had builded, and, the building done, + Through our adorned gates with din + Came Prince and Priest, with pipe and clarion + Leading the right God in. + + Yet, had the perfect temple quickened then + And whispered us between our song, + _"Give God the praise. To whom of living men + Shall next our thanks belong?"_ + + Then had the few, the very few, that wist + His Atlantean labour, swerved + Their eyes to seek, and in the triumph missed, + The man that most deserved. + +He only of us was incorporate + In all that fabric; stone by stone + Had built his life in her, had made his fate + And her perfection one; + + Given all he had; and now--when all was given-- + Far spent, within a private shade, + Heard the loud organ pealing praise to Heaven, + And learned why man is made.-- + + To break his strength, yet always to be brave; + To preach, and act, the Crucified ... + Sweep by, O Prince and Prelate, up the nave, + And fill it with your pride! + + Better than ye what made th' old temples great, + Because he loved, he understood; + Indignant that his darling, less in state, + Should lack a martyr's blood. + +She hath it now. O mason, strip away + Her scaffolding, the flower disclose! + Lay by the tools with his o'er-wearied clay-- + But She shall bloom unto its Judgment Day, + His ever-living Rose! + + +III + +C. W. S. + +_The Fourth Bishop of Truro +May_ 1912 + + Prince of courtesy defeated, + Heir of hope untimely cheated, + Throned awhile he sat, and, seated, + + Saw his Cornish round him gather; + "Teach us how to live, good Father!" + How to die he taught us rather: + +Heard the startling trumpet sound him, + Smiled upon the feast around him, + Rose, and wrapp'd his coat, and bound him + + When beyond the awful surges, + Bathed in dawn on Syrian verges, + God! thy star, thy Cross emerges. + +_And so sing we all to it--_ + + Crux, in coelo lux superna, + Sis in carnis hac taberna + Mihi pedibus lucerna: + + Quo vexillum dux cohortis + Sistet, super flumen Mortis, + Te, flammantibus in portis! + + + + +ALMA MATER + + _Know you her secret none can utter?_ + Hers of the Book, the tripled Crown? + Still on the spire the pigeons flutter, + Still by the gateway flits the gown; + Still on the street, from corbel and gutter, + Faces of stone look down. + + Faces of stone, and stonier faces-- + Some from library windows wan + Forth on her gardens, her green spaces, + Peer and turn to their books anon. + Hence, my Muse, from the green oases + Gather the tent, begone! + +Nay, should she by the pavement linger + Under the rooms where once she played, + Who from the feast would rise to fling her + One poor _sou_ for her serenade? + One short laugh for the antic finger + Thrumming a lute-string frayed? + + Once, my dear--but the world was young then-- + Magdalen elms and Trinity limes-- + Lissom the blades and the backs that swung then, + Eight good men in the good old times-- + Careless we, and the chorus flung then + Under St Mary's chimes! + + Reins lay loose and the ways led random-- + Christ Church meadow and Iffley track, + "Idleness horrid and dog-cart" (tandem), + Aylesbury grind and Bicester pack-- + Pleasant our lines, and faith! we scanned 'em: + Having that artless knack. + +Come, old limmer, the times grow colder; + Leaves of the creeper redden and fall. + Was it a hand then clapped my shoulder?-- + Only the wind by the chapel wall! + Dead leaves drift on the lute ... So, fold her + Under the faded shawl. + + Never we wince, though none deplore us, + We who go reaping that we sowed; + Cities at cock-crow wake before us-- + Hey, for the lilt of the London road! + One look back, and a rousing chorus! + Never a palinode! + + Still on her spire the pigeons hover; + Still by her gateway haunts the gown. + Ah! but her secret? You, young lover, + Drumming her old ones forth from town, + Know you the secret none discover? + Tell it--when _you_ go down. + +Yet if at length you seek her, prove her, + Lean to her whispers never so nigh; + Yet if at last not less her lover + You in your hansom leave the High; + Down from her towers a ray shall hover-- + Touch you, a passer-by! + + + + +CHRISTMAS EVE + + Friend, old friend in the Manse by the fireside sitting, + Hour by hour while the grey ash drips from the log; + You with a book on your knee, your wife with her knitting, + Silent both, and between you, silent, the dog. + + Silent here in the south sit I; and, leaning, + One sits watching the fire, with chin upon hand; + Gazes deep in its heart--but ah! its meaning + Rather I read in the shadows and understand. + + Dear, kind she is; and daily dearer, kinder, + Love shuts the door on the lamp and our two selves: + +Not my stirring awakened the flame that behind her + Lit up a face in the leathern dusk of the shelves. + + Veterans are my books, with tarnished gilding: + Yet there is one gives back to the winter grate + Gold of a sunset flooding a college building, + Gold of an hour I waited--as now I wait-- + + For a light step on the stair, a girl's low laughter, + Rustle of silk, shy knuckles tapping the oak, + Dinner and mirth upsetting my rooms and, after, + Music, waltz upon waltz, till the June day broke. + + Where is her laughter now? Old tarnished covers-- + You that reflect her with fresh young face unchanged-- + Tell that we met, that we parted, not as lovers; + Time, chance, brought us together, and these estranged. + + + + +Loyal were we to the mood of the moment granted, + Bruised not its bloom, but danced on the wave of its joy; + Passion--wisdom--fell back like a fence enchanted, + Ringing a floor for us both--whole Heaven for the boy! + + Where is she now? Regretted not, though departed, + Blessings attend and follow her all her days! + --Look to your hound: he dreams of the hares he started, + Whines, and awakes, and stretches his limbs to the blaze. + + Far old friend in the Manse, by the green ash peeling + Flake by flake from the heat in the Yule log's core, + Look past the woman you love. On wall and ceiling + Climbs not a trellis of roses--and ghosts--of yore? + +Thoughts, thoughts! Whistle them back like hounds returning-- + Mark how her needles pause at a sound upstairs. + Time for bed, and to leave the log's heart burning! + Give ye good-night, but first thank God in your prayers! + + + + +THE ROOT + + + Deep, Love, yea, very deep. + And in the dark exiled, +I have no sense of light but still to creep +And know the breast, but not the eyes. Thy child +Saw ne'er his mother near, nor if she smiled; + But only feels her weep. + + Yet clouds and branches green + There be aloft, somewhere, +And winds, and angel birds that build between, +As I believe--and I will not despair; +For faith is evidence of things not seen. + Love! if I could be there! + +I will be patient, dear. + Perchance some part of me +Puts forth aloft and feels the rushing year +And shades the bird, and is that happy tree +Then were it strength to serve and not appear, + And bliss, though blind, to be. + + + + +TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME A BOX OF VIOLETS + + +Nay, more than violets +These thoughts of thine, friend! +Rather thy reedy brook-- +Taw's tributary-- +At midnight murmuring, +Descried them, the delicate +Dark-eyed goddesses, +There by his cressy bed +Dissolved and dreaming +Dreams that distilled into dew +All the purple of night, +All the shine of a planet. + +Whereat he whispered; +And they arising-- + +Of day's forget-me-nots +The duskier sisters-- +Descended, relinquished +The orchard, the trout-pool, +Torridge and Tamar, +The Druid circles, +Sheepfolds of Dartmoor, +Granite and sandstone; +By Roughtor, Dozmare, +Down the vale of the Fowey +Moving in silence, +Brushing the nightshade +By bridges cyclopean, +By Trevenna, Treverbyn, +Lawharne and Largin, +By Glynn, Lanhydrock, +Restormel, Lostwithiel, +Dark wood, dim water, dreaming town; +Down the vale of the Fowey +To the tidal water +Washing the feet +Of fair St Winnow-- +Each, in her exile +Musing the message, +Passed, as the starlit +Shadow of Ruth from the land of the Moabite. + +So they came, +Valley-born, valley-nurtured-- +Came to the tideway +The jetties, the anchorage, +The salt wind piping, +Snoring in Equinox, +By ships at anchor, +By quays tormented, +Storm-bitten streets; +Came to the Haven +Crying, "Ah, shelter us, +The strayed ambassadors, +Love's lost legation +On a comfortless coast!" + +Nay, but a little sleep, +A little folding +Of petals to the lull +Of quiet rainfalls-- +Here in my garden, +In angle sheltered +From north and east wind-- +Softly shall recreate +The courage of charity, +Henceforth not to me only +Breathing the message. + +Clean-breath'd Sirens! +Hencefore the mariner. + + + + +TO A FRIEND + + +Here in the fairway +Fetching--foul of keel, +Long-stray but fortunate-- +Out of the fogs, the vast +Atlantic solitudes. +Shall, by the hawser-pin +Waiting the signal +_Leave--go--anchor!_ +Scent the familiar, +The unforgettable +Fragrance of home; +So in a long breath +Bless us unknowing: +Bless them, the violets, +Bless me, the gardener, +Bless thee, the giver. + + + + +OF THREE CHILDREN + +OF THREE CHILDREN CHOOSING +A CHAPLET OF VERSE + + +You and I and Burd so blithe-- + Burd so blithe, and you, and I-- +The Mower he would whet his scythe + Before the dew was dry. + +And he woke soon, but we woke soon + And drew the nursery blind, +All wondering at the waning moon + With the small June roses twined: +Low in her cradle swung the moon + With an elfin dawn behind. + +In whispers, while our elders slept, + We knelt and said our prayers, +And dress'd us and on tiptoe crept + Adown the creaking stairs. + +The world's possessors lay abed, + And all the world was ours-- +"Nay, nay, but hark! the Mower's tread! + And we must save the flowers!" + +The Mower knew not rest nor haste-- + That old unweary man: +But we were young. We paused and raced + And gather'd while we ran. + +O youth is careless, youth is fleet, + With heart and wing of bird! +The lark flew up beneath our feet, + To his copse the pheasant whirr'd; + +The cattle from their darkling lairs + Heaved up and stretch'd themselves; +Almost they trod at unawares + Upon the busy elves + +That dropp'd their spools of gossamer, + To dangle and to dry, +And scurried home to the hollow fir + Where the white owl winks an eye. + +Nor you, nor I, nor Burd so blithe + Had driven them in this haste; +But the old, old man, so lean and lithe, + That afar behind us paced; +So lean and lithe, with shoulder'd scythe, + And a whetstone at his waist. + +Within the gate, in a grassy round + Whence they had earliest flown, +He upside-down'd his scythe, and ground + Its edge with careful hone. +But we heeded not, if we heard, the sound, + For the world was ours alone; +The world was ours!--and with a bound + The conquering Sun upshone! + +And while as from his level ray + We stood our eyes to screen. +The world was not as yesterday + Our homelier world had been-- +So grey and golden-green it lay + All in his quiet sheen, +That wove the gold into the grey, + The grey into the green. +Sure never hand of Puck, nor wand + Of Mab the fairies' queen, +Nor prince nor peer of fairyland +Had power to weave that wide riband + Of the grey, the gold, the green. + +But the Gods of Greece had been before + And walked our meads along, +The great authentic Gods of yore +That haunt the earth from shore to shore + Trailing their robes of song. + +And where a sandall'd foot had brush'd, + And where a scarfed hem, +The flowers awoke from sleep and rush'd + Like children after them. + +Pell-mell they poured by vale and stream, + By lawn and steepy brae-- +"O children, children! while you dream, + Your flowers run all away!" + +But afar and abed and sleepily + The children heard us call; +And Burd so blithe and you and I + Must be gatherers for all. + +The meadow-sweet beside the hedge, + The dog-rose and the vetch, +The sworded iris 'mid the sedge, + The mallow by the ditch-- + +With these, and by the wimpling burn, + Where the midges danced in reels, +With the watermint and the lady fern + We brimm'd out wicker creels: + +Till, all so heavily they weigh'd, + On a bank we flung us down, +Shook out our treasures 'neath the shade + And wove this Triple Crown. + +Flower after flower--for some there were + The noonday heats had dried, +And some were dear yet could not bear + A lovelier cheek beside, +And some were perfect past compare-- +Ah, darlings! what a world of care + It cost us to decide! + +Natheless we sang in sweet accord, + Each bending o'er her brede-- +"O there be flowers in Oxenford, + And flowers be north of Tweed, +And flowers there be on earthly sward + That owe no mortal seed!" + +And these, the brightest that we wove, + Were Innocence and Truth, +And holy Peace and angel Love, + Glad Hope and gentle Ruth. +Ah, bind them fast with triple twine +Of Memory, the wild woodbine +That still, being human, stays divine, + And alone is age's youth!... + +But hark! but look! the warning rook + Wings home in level flight; +The children tired with play and book + Have kiss'd and call'd Good-night! + +Ah, sisters, look! What fields be these + That lie so sad and shorn? +What hand has cut our coppices, +And thro' the trimm'd, the ruin'd, trees + Lets wail a wind forlorn? + +'Tis Time, 'tis Time has done this crime + And laid our meadows waste-- +The bent unwearied tyrant Time, + That knows nor rest nor haste. + +Yet courage, children; homeward bring + Your hearts, your garlands high; +For we have dared to do a thing + That shall his worst defy. + +We cannot nail the dial's hand; + We cannot bind the sun +By Gibeon to stay and stand, + Or the moon o'er Ajalon; + +We cannot blunt th' abhorred shears, + Nor shift the skeins of Fate, +Nor say unto the posting years + "Ye shall not desolate." + +We cannot cage the lion's rage, + Nor teach the turtle-dove +Beside what well his moan to tell + Or to haunt one only grove; +But the lion's brood will range for food + As the fledged bird will rove. + +And east and west we three may wend-- + Yet we a wreath have wound +For us shall wind withouten end + The wide, wide world around: + +Be it east or west, and ne'er so far, +In east or west shall peep no star, +No blossom break from ground, +But minds us of the wreath we wove +Of innocence and holy love + That in the meads we found, +And handsell'd from the Mower's scythe, +And bound with memory's living withe-- +You and I and Burd so blithe-- + Three maidens on a mound: +And all of happiness was ours +Shall find remembrance 'mid the flowers, +Shall take revival from the flowers + And by the flowers be crown'd. + + + + +EPILOGUE + +TO A MOTHER, ON SEEING HER SMILE REPEATED +IN HER DAUGHTER'S EYES + + +A thousand songs I might have made + Of You, and only You; +A thousand thousand tongues of fire +That trembled down a golden wire + To lamp the night with stars, to braid +The morning bough with dew. + +Within the greenwood girl and boy + Had loiter'd to their lure, +And men in cities closed their books +To dream of Spring and running brooks +And all that ever was of joy + For manhood to abjure. + +And I'd have made them strong, so strong + Outlasting towers and towns-- +Millennial shepherds 'neath the thorn +Had piped them to a world reborn, +And danced Delight the dale along + And up the daisied downs. + +A thousand songs I might have made... + But you required them not; +Content to reign your little while +Ere, abdicating with a smile, +You pass'd into a shade, a shade + Immortal--and forgot! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Vigil of Venus and Other Poems by "Q", by Q + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIGIL OF VENUS *** + +***** This file should be named 10133.txt or 10133.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/1/3/10133/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Sjaani and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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