diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/crmds10.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/crmds10.txt | 2363 |
1 files changed, 2363 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/crmds10.txt b/old/crmds10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..07d0788 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/crmds10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2363 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Etext of Charmides and Other Poems by Wilde +#15 in our series by Oscar Wilde + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +Charmides and Other Poems + +by Oscar Wilde + +September, 1997 [Etext #1031] + + +Project Gutenberg's Etext of Charmides and Other Poems by Wilde +******This file should be named crmds10.txt or crmds10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, crmds11.txt. +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, crmds10a.txt. + + +Scanned and proofed by David Price +ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, for time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an +up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes +in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has +a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a +look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a +new copy has at least one byte more or less. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-two text +files per month, or 384 more Etexts in 1997 for a total of 1000+ +If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the +total should reach over 100 billion Etexts given away. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only 10% of the present number of computer users. 2001 +should have at least twice as many computer users as that, so it +will require us reaching less than 5% of the users in 2001. + + +We need your donations more than ever! + + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are +tax deductible to the extent allowable by law. (CMU = Carnegie- +Mellon University). + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +Project Gutenberg +P. O. Box 2782 +Champaign, IL 61825 + +When all other email fails try our Executive Director: +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +We would prefer to send you this information by email +(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail). + +****** +If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please +FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives: +[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type] + +ftp uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd etext/etext90 through /etext96 +or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information] +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET INDEX?00.GUT +for a list of books +and +GET NEW GUT for general information +and +MGET GUT* for newsletters. + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** +(Three Pages) + + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG- +tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at +Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project"). Among other +things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this +etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or +indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: +[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification, +or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- + cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the + net profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Charmides and Other Poems by Oscar Wilde +Scanned and proofed by David Price +ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + + +Charmides and Other Poems + + + + +Contents: + +Charmides +Requiescat +San Miniato +Rome Unvisited +Humanitad +Louis Napoleon +Endymion +Le Jardin +La Mer +Le Panneau +Les Ballons +Canzonet +Le Jardin Des Tuileries +Pan: Double Villanelle +In The Forest +Symphony In Yellow + +Sonnets: + +Helas! +To Milton +On The Massacre Of The Christians In Bulgaria +Holy Week At Genoa +Urbs Sacra Aeterna +E Tenebris +At Verona +On The Sale By Auction Of Keats' Love Letters +The New Remorse + + + + +CHARMIDES + + + +I. + + +He was a Grecian lad, who coming home +With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily +Stood at his galley's prow, and let the foam +Blow through his crisp brown curls unconsciously, +And holding wave and wind in boy's despite +Peered from his dripping seat across the wet and stormy night. + +Till with the dawn he saw a burnished spear +Like a thin thread of gold against the sky, +And hoisted sail, and strained the creaking gear, +And bade the pilot head her lustily +Against the nor'west gale, and all day long +Held on his way, and marked the rowers' time with measured song. + +And when the faint Corinthian hills were red +Dropped anchor in a little sandy bay, +And with fresh boughs of olive crowned his head, +And brushed from cheek and throat the hoary spray, +And washed his limbs with oil, and from the hold +Brought out his linen tunic and his sandals brazen-soled, + +And a rich robe stained with the fishers' juice +Which of some swarthy trader he had bought +Upon the sunny quay at Syracuse, +And was with Tyrian broideries inwrought, +And by the questioning merchants made his way +Up through the soft and silver woods, and when the labouring day + +Had spun its tangled web of crimson cloud, +Clomb the high hill, and with swift silent feet +Crept to the fane unnoticed by the crowd +Of busy priests, and from some dark retreat +Watched the young swains his frolic playmates bring +The firstling of their little flock, and the shy shepherd fling + +The crackling salt upon the flame, or hang +His studded crook against the temple wall +To Her who keeps away the ravenous fang +Of the base wolf from homestead and from stall; +And then the clear-voiced maidens 'gan to sing, +And to the altar each man brought some goodly offering, + +A beechen cup brimming with milky foam, +A fair cloth wrought with cunning imagery +Of hounds in chase, a waxen honey-comb +Dripping with oozy gold which scarce the bee +Had ceased from building, a black skin of oil +Meet for the wrestlers, a great boar the fierce and white-tusked +spoil + +Stolen from Artemis that jealous maid +To please Athena, and the dappled hide +Of a tall stag who in some mountain glade +Had met the shaft; and then the herald cried, +And from the pillared precinct one by one +Went the glad Greeks well pleased that they their simple vows had +done. + +And the old priest put out the waning fires +Save that one lamp whose restless ruby glowed +For ever in the cell, and the shrill lyres +Came fainter on the wind, as down the road +In joyous dance these country folk did pass, +And with stout hands the warder closed the gates of polished brass. + +Long time he lay and hardly dared to breathe, +And heard the cadenced drip of spilt-out wine, +And the rose-petals falling from the wreath +As the night breezes wandered through the shrine, +And seemed to be in some entranced swoon +Till through the open roof above the full and brimming moon + +Flooded with sheeny waves the marble floor, +When from his nook up leapt the venturous lad, +And flinging wide the cedar-carven door +Beheld an awful image saffron-clad +And armed for battle! the gaunt Griffin glared +From the huge helm, and the long lance of wreck and ruin flared + +Like a red rod of flame, stony and steeled +The Gorgon's head its leaden eyeballs rolled, +And writhed its snaky horrors through the shield, +And gaped aghast with bloodless lips and cold +In passion impotent, while with blind gaze +The blinking owl between the feet hooted in shrill amaze. + +The lonely fisher as he trimmed his lamp +Far out at sea off Sunium, or cast +The net for tunnies, heard a brazen tramp +Of horses smite the waves, and a wild blast +Divide the folded curtains of the night, +And knelt upon the little poop, and prayed in holy fright. + +And guilty lovers in their venery +Forgat a little while their stolen sweets, +Deeming they heard dread Dian's bitter cry; +And the grim watchmen on their lofty seats +Ran to their shields in haste precipitate, +Or strained black-bearded throats across the dusky parapet. + +For round the temple rolled the clang of arms, +And the twelve Gods leapt up in marble fear, +And the air quaked with dissonant alarums +Till huge Poseidon shook his mighty spear, +And on the frieze the prancing horses neighed, +And the low tread of hurrying feet rang from the cavalcade. + +Ready for death with parted lips he stood, +And well content at such a price to see +That calm wide brow, that terrible maidenhood, +The marvel of that pitiless chastity, +Ah! well content indeed, for never wight +Since Troy's young shepherd prince had seen so wonderful a sight. + +Ready for death he stood, but lo! the air +Grew silent, and the horses ceased to neigh, +And off his brow he tossed the clustering hair, +And from his limbs he throw the cloak away; +For whom would not such love make desperate? +And nigher came, and touched her throat, and with hands violate + +Undid the cuirass, and the crocus gown, +And bared the breasts of polished ivory, +Till from the waist the peplos falling down +Left visible the secret mystery +Which to no lover will Athena show, +The grand cool flanks, the crescent thighs, the bossy hills of +snow. + +Those who have never known a lover's sin +Let them not read my ditty, it will be +To their dull ears so musicless and thin +That they will have no joy of it, but ye +To whose wan cheeks now creeps the lingering smile, +Ye who have learned who Eros is, - O listen yet awhile. + +A little space he let his greedy eyes +Rest on the burnished image, till mere sight +Half swooned for surfeit of such luxuries, +And then his lips in hungering delight +Fed on her lips, and round the towered neck +He flung his arms, nor cared at all his passion's will to check. + +Never I ween did lover hold such tryst, +For all night long he murmured honeyed word, +And saw her sweet unravished limbs, and kissed +Her pale and argent body undisturbed, +And paddled with the polished throat, and pressed +His hot and beating heart upon her chill and icy breast. + +It was as if Numidian javelins +Pierced through and through his wild and whirling brain, +And his nerves thrilled like throbbing violins +In exquisite pulsation, and the pain +Was such sweet anguish that he never drew +His lips from hers till overhead the lark of warning flew. + +They who have never seen the daylight peer +Into a darkened room, and drawn the curtain, +And with dull eyes and wearied from some dear +And worshipped body risen, they for certain +Will never know of what I try to sing, +How long the last kiss was, how fond and late his lingering. + +The moon was girdled with a crystal rim, +The sign which shipmen say is ominous +Of wrath in heaven, the wan stars were dim, +And the low lightening east was tremulous +With the faint fluttering wings of flying dawn, +Ere from the silent sombre shrine his lover had withdrawn. + +Down the steep rock with hurried feet and fast +Clomb the brave lad, and reached the cave of Pan, +And heard the goat-foot snoring as he passed, +And leapt upon a grassy knoll and ran +Like a young fawn unto an olive wood +Which in a shady valley by the well-built city stood; + +And sought a little stream, which well he knew, +For oftentimes with boyish careless shout +The green and crested grebe he would pursue, +Or snare in woven net the silver trout, +And down amid the startled reeds he lay +Panting in breathless sweet affright, and waited for the day. + +On the green bank he lay, and let one hand +Dip in the cool dark eddies listlessly, +And soon the breath of morning came and fanned +His hot flushed cheeks, or lifted wantonly +The tangled curls from off his forehead, while +He on the running water gazed with strange and secret smile. + +And soon the shepherd in rough woollen cloak +With his long crook undid the wattled cotes, +And from the stack a thin blue wreath of smoke +Curled through the air across the ripening oats, +And on the hill the yellow house-dog bayed +As through the crisp and rustling fern the heavy cattle strayed. + +And when the light-foot mower went afield +Across the meadows laced with threaded dew, +And the sheep bleated on the misty weald, +And from its nest the waking corncrake flew, +Some woodmen saw him lying by the stream +And marvelled much that any lad so beautiful could seem, + +Nor deemed him born of mortals, and one said, +'It is young Hylas, that false runaway +Who with a Naiad now would make his bed +Forgetting Herakles,' but others, 'Nay, +It is Narcissus, his own paramour, +Those are the fond and crimson lips no woman can allure.' + +And when they nearer came a third one cried, +'It is young Dionysos who has hid +His spear and fawnskin by the river side +Weary of hunting with the Bassarid, +And wise indeed were we away to fly: +They live not long who on the gods immortal come to spy.' + +So turned they back, and feared to look behind, +And told the timid swain how they had seen +Amid the reeds some woodland god reclined, +And no man dared to cross the open green, +And on that day no olive-tree was slain, +Nor rushes cut, but all deserted was the fair domain, + +Save when the neat-herd's lad, his empty pail +Well slung upon his back, with leap and bound +Raced on the other side, and stopped to hail, +Hoping that he some comrade new had found, +And gat no answer, and then half afraid +Passed on his simple way, or down the still and silent glade + +A little girl ran laughing from the farm, +Not thinking of love's secret mysteries, +And when she saw the white and gleaming arm +And all his manlihood, with longing eyes +Whose passion mocked her sweet virginity +Watched him awhile, and then stole back sadly and wearily. + +Far off he heard the city's hum and noise, +And now and then the shriller laughter where +The passionate purity of brown-limbed boys +Wrestled or raced in the clear healthful air, +And now and then a little tinkling bell +As the shorn wether led the sheep down to the mossy well. + +Through the grey willows danced the fretful gnat, +The grasshopper chirped idly from the tree, +In sleek and oily coat the water-rat +Breasting the little ripples manfully +Made for the wild-duck's nest, from bough to bough +Hopped the shy finch, and the huge tortoise crept across the +slough. + +On the faint wind floated the silky seeds +As the bright scythe swept through the waving grass, +The ouzel-cock splashed circles in the reeds +And flecked with silver whorls the forest's glass, +Which scarce had caught again its imagery +Ere from its bed the dusky tench leapt at the dragon-fly. + +But little care had he for any thing +Though up and down the beech the squirrel played, +And from the copse the linnet 'gan to sing +To its brown mate its sweetest serenade; +Ah! little care indeed, for he had seen +The breasts of Pallas and the naked wonder of the Queen. + +But when the herdsman called his straggling goats +With whistling pipe across the rocky road, +And the shard-beetle with its trumpet-notes +Boomed through the darkening woods, and seemed to bode +Of coming storm, and the belated crane +Passed homeward like a shadow, and the dull big drops of rain + +Fell on the pattering fig-leaves, up he rose, +And from the gloomy forest went his way +Past sombre homestead and wet orchard-close, +And came at last unto a little quay, +And called his mates aboard, and took his seat +On the high poop, and pushed from land, and loosed the dripping +sheet, + +And steered across the bay, and when nine suns +Passed down the long and laddered way of gold, +And nine pale moons had breathed their orisons +To the chaste stars their confessors, or told +Their dearest secret to the downy moth +That will not fly at noonday, through the foam and surging froth + +Came a great owl with yellow sulphurous eyes +And lit upon the ship, whose timbers creaked +As though the lading of three argosies +Were in the hold, and flapped its wings and shrieked, +And darkness straightway stole across the deep, +Sheathed was Orion's sword, dread Mars himself fled down the steep, + +And the moon hid behind a tawny mask +Of drifting cloud, and from the ocean's marge +Rose the red plume, the huge and horned casque, +The seven-cubit spear, the brazen targe! +And clad in bright and burnished panoply +Athena strode across the stretch of sick and shivering sea! + +To the dull sailors' sight her loosened looks +Seemed like the jagged storm-rack, and her feet +Only the spume that floats on hidden rocks, +And, marking how the rising waters beat +Against the rolling ship, the pilot cried +To the young helmsman at the stern to luff to windward side + +But he, the overbold adulterer, +A dear profaner of great mysteries, +An ardent amorous idolater, +When he beheld those grand relentless eyes +Laughed loud for joy, and crying out 'I come' +Leapt from the lofty poop into the chill and churning foam. + +Then fell from the high heaven one bright star, +One dancer left the circling galaxy, +And back to Athens on her clattering car +In all the pride of venged divinity +Pale Pallas swept with shrill and steely clank, +And a few gurgling bubbles rose where her boy lover sank. + +And the mast shuddered as the gaunt owl flew +With mocking hoots after the wrathful Queen, +And the old pilot bade the trembling crew +Hoist the big sail, and told how he had seen +Close to the stern a dim and giant form, +And like a dipping swallow the stout ship dashed through the storm. + +And no man dared to speak of Charmides +Deeming that he some evil thing had wrought, +And when they reached the strait Symplegades +They beached their galley on the shore, and sought +The toll-gate of the city hastily, +And in the market showed their brown and pictured pottery. + + +II. + + +But some good Triton-god had ruth, and bare +The boy's drowned body back to Grecian land, +And mermaids combed his dank and dripping hair +And smoothed his brow, and loosed his clenching hand; +Some brought sweet spices from far Araby, +And others bade the halcyon sing her softest lullaby. + +And when he neared his old Athenian home, +A mighty billow rose up suddenly +Upon whose oily back the clotted foam +Lay diapered in some strange fantasy, +And clasping him unto its glassy breast +Swept landward, like a white-maned steed upon a venturous quest! + +Now where Colonos leans unto the sea +There lies a long and level stretch of lawn; +The rabbit knows it, and the mountain bee +For it deserts Hymettus, and the Faun +Is not afraid, for never through the day +Comes a cry ruder than the shout of shepherd lads at play. + +But often from the thorny labyrinth +And tangled branches of the circling wood +The stealthy hunter sees young Hyacinth +Hurling the polished disk, and draws his hood +Over his guilty gaze, and creeps away, +Nor dares to wind his horn, or - else at the first break of day + +The Dryads come and throw the leathern ball +Along the reedy shore, and circumvent +Some goat-eared Pan to be their seneschal +For fear of bold Poseidon's ravishment, +And loose their girdles, with shy timorous eyes, +Lest from the surf his azure arms and purple beard should rise. + +On this side and on that a rocky cave, +Hung with the yellow-belled laburnum, stands +Smooth is the beach, save where some ebbing wave +Leaves its faint outline etched upon the sands, +As though it feared to be too soon forgot +By the green rush, its playfellow, - and yet, it is a spot + +So small, that the inconstant butterfly +Could steal the hoarded money from each flower +Ere it was noon, and still not satisfy +Its over-greedy love, - within an hour +A sailor boy, were he but rude enow +To land and pluck a garland for his galley's painted prow, + +Would almost leave the little meadow bare, +For it knows nothing of great pageantry, +Only a few narcissi here and there +Stand separate in sweet austerity, +Dotting the unmown grass with silver stars, +And here and there a daffodil waves tiny scimitars. + +Hither the billow brought him, and was glad +Of such dear servitude, and where the land +Was virgin of all waters laid the lad +Upon the golden margent of the strand, +And like a lingering lover oft returned +To kiss those pallid limbs which once with intense fire burned, + +Ere the wet seas had quenched that holocaust, +That self-fed flame, that passionate lustihead, +Ere grisly death with chill and nipping frost +Had withered up those lilies white and red +Which, while the boy would through the forest range, +Answered each other in a sweet antiphonal counter-change. + +And when at dawn the wood-nymphs, hand-in-hand, +Threaded the bosky dell, their satyr spied +The boy's pale body stretched upon the sand, +And feared Poseidon's treachery, and cried, +And like bright sunbeams flitting through a glade +Each startled Dryad sought some safe and leafy ambuscade. + +Save one white girl, who deemed it would not be +So dread a thing to feel a sea-god's arms +Crushing her breasts in amorous tyranny, +And longed to listen to those subtle charms +Insidious lovers weave when they would win +Some fenced fortress, and stole back again, nor thought it sin + +To yield her treasure unto one so fair, +And lay beside him, thirsty with love's drouth, +Called him soft names, played with his tangled hair, +And with hot lips made havoc of his mouth +Afraid he might not wake, and then afraid +Lest he might wake too soon, fled back, and then, fond renegade, + +Returned to fresh assault, and all day long +Sat at his side, and laughed at her new toy, +And held his hand, and sang her sweetest song, +Then frowned to see how froward was the boy +Who would not with her maidenhood entwine, +Nor knew that three days since his eyes had looked on Proserpine; + +Nor knew what sacrilege his lips had done, +But said, 'He will awake, I know him well, +He will awake at evening when the sun +Hangs his red shield on Corinth's citadel; +This sleep is but a cruel treachery +To make me love him more, and in some cavern of the sea + +Deeper than ever falls the fisher's line +Already a huge Triton blows his horn, +And weaves a garland from the crystalline +And drifting ocean-tendrils to adorn +The emerald pillars of our bridal bed, +For sphered in foaming silver, and with coral crowned head, + +We two will sit upon a throne of pearl, +And a blue wave will be our canopy, +And at our feet the water-snakes will curl +In all their amethystine panoply +Of diamonded mail, and we will mark +The mullets swimming by the mast of some storm-foundered bark, + +Vermilion-finned with eyes of bossy gold +Like flakes of crimson light, and the great deep +His glassy-portaled chamber will unfold, +And we will see the painted dolphins sleep +Cradled by murmuring halcyons on the rocks +Where Proteus in quaint suit of green pastures his monstrous +flocks. + +And tremulous opal-hued anemones +Will wave their purple fringes where we tread +Upon the mirrored floor, and argosies +Of fishes flecked with tawny scales will thread +The drifting cordage of the shattered wreck, +And honey-coloured amber beads our twining limbs will deck.' + +But when that baffled Lord of War the Sun +With gaudy pennon flying passed away +Into his brazen House, and one by one +The little yellow stars began to stray +Across the field of heaven, ah! then indeed +She feared his lips upon her lips would never care to feed, + +And cried, 'Awake, already the pale moon +Washes the trees with silver, and the wave +Creeps grey and chilly up this sandy dune, +The croaking frogs are out, and from the cave +The nightjar shrieks, the fluttering bats repass, +And the brown stoat with hollow flanks creeps through the dusky +grass. + +Nay, though thou art a god, be not so coy, +For in yon stream there is a little reed +That often whispers how a lovely boy +Lay with her once upon a grassy mead, +Who when his cruel pleasure he had done +Spread wings of rustling gold and soared aloft into the sun. + +Be not so coy, the laurel trembles still +With great Apollo's kisses, and the fir +Whose clustering sisters fringe the seaward hill +Hath many a tale of that bold ravisher +Whom men call Boreas, and I have seen +The mocking eyes of Hermes through the poplar's silvery sheen. + +Even the jealous Naiads call me fair, +And every morn a young and ruddy swain +Woos me with apples and with locks of hair, +And seeks to soothe my virginal disdain +By all the gifts the gentle wood-nymphs love; +But yesterday he brought to me an iris-plumaged dove + +With little crimson feet, which with its store +Of seven spotted eggs the cruel lad +Had stolen from the lofty sycamore +At daybreak, when her amorous comrade had +Flown off in search of berried juniper +Which most they love; the fretful wasp, that earliest vintager + +Of the blue grapes, hath not persistency +So constant as this simple shepherd-boy +For my poor lips, his joyous purity +And laughing sunny eyes might well decoy +A Dryad from her oath to Artemis; +For very beautiful is he, his mouth was made to kiss; + +His argent forehead, like a rising moon +Over the dusky hills of meeting brows, +Is crescent shaped, the hot and Tyrian noon +Leads from the myrtle-grove no goodlier spouse +For Cytheraea, the first silky down +Fringes his blushing cheeks, and his young limbs are strong and +brown; + +And he is rich, and fat and fleecy herds +Of bleating sheep upon his meadows lie, +And many an earthen bowl of yellow curds +Is in his homestead for the thievish fly +To swim and drown in, the pink clover mead +Keeps its sweet store for him, and he can pipe on oaten reed. + +And yet I love him not; it was for thee +I kept my love; I knew that thou would'st come +To rid me of this pallid chastity, +Thou fairest flower of the flowerless foam +Of all the wide AEgean, brightest star +Of ocean's azure heavens where the mirrored planets are! + +I knew that thou would'st come, for when at first +The dry wood burgeoned, and the sap of spring +Swelled in my green and tender bark or burst +To myriad multitudinous blossoming +Which mocked the midnight with its mimic moons +That did not dread the dawn, and first the thrushes' rapturous +tunes + +Startled the squirrel from its granary, +And cuckoo flowers fringed the narrow lane, +Through my young leaves a sensuous ecstasy +Crept like new wine, and every mossy vein +Throbbed with the fitful pulse of amorous blood, +And the wild winds of passion shook my slim stem's maidenhood. + +The trooping fawns at evening came and laid +Their cool black noses on my lowest boughs, +And on my topmost branch the blackbird made +A little nest of grasses for his spouse, +And now and then a twittering wren would light +On a thin twig which hardly bare the weight of such delight. + +I was the Attic shepherd's trysting place, +Beneath my shadow Amaryllis lay, +And round my trunk would laughing Daphnis chase +The timorous girl, till tired out with play +She felt his hot breath stir her tangled hair, +And turned, and looked, and fled no more from such delightful +snare. + +Then come away unto my ambuscade +Where clustering woodbine weaves a canopy +For amorous pleasaunce, and the rustling shade +Of Paphian myrtles seems to sanctify +The dearest rites of love; there in the cool +And green recesses of its farthest depth there is pool, + +The ouzel's haunt, the wild bee's pasturage, +For round its rim great creamy lilies float +Through their flat leaves in verdant anchorage, +Each cup a white-sailed golden-laden boat +Steered by a dragon-fly, - be not afraid +To leave this wan and wave-kissed shore, surely the place was made + +For lovers such as we; the Cyprian Queen, +One arm around her boyish paramour, +Strays often there at eve, and I have seen +The moon strip off her misty vestiture +For young Endymion's eyes; be not afraid, +The panther feet of Dian never tread that secret glade. + +Nay if thou will'st, back to the beating brine, +Back to the boisterous billow let us go, +And walk all day beneath the hyaline +Huge vault of Neptune's watery portico, +And watch the purple monsters of the deep +Sport in ungainly play, and from his lair keen Xiphias leap. + +For if my mistress find me lying here +She will not ruth or gentle pity show, +But lay her boar-spear down, and with austere +Relentless fingers string the cornel bow, +And draw the feathered notch against her breast, +And loose the arched cord; aye, even now upon the quest + +I hear her hurrying feet, - awake, awake, +Thou laggard in love's battle! once at least +Let me drink deep of passion's wine, and slake +My parched being with the nectarous feast +Which even gods affect! O come, Love, come, +Still we have time to reach the cavern of thine azure home.' + +Scarce had she spoken when the shuddering trees +Shook, and the leaves divided, and the air +Grew conscious of a god, and the grey seas +Crawled backward, and a long and dismal blare +Blew from some tasselled horn, a sleuth-hound bayed, +And like a flame a barbed reed flew whizzing down the glade. + +And where the little flowers of her breast +Just brake into their milky blossoming, +This murderous paramour, this unbidden guest, +Pierced and struck deep in horrid chambering, +And ploughed a bloody furrow with its dart, +And dug a long red road, and cleft with winged death her heart. + +Sobbing her life out with a bitter cry +On the boy's body fell the Dryad maid, +Sobbing for incomplete virginity, +And raptures unenjoyed, and pleasures dead, +And all the pain of things unsatisfied, +And the bright drops of crimson youth crept down her throbbing +side. + +Ah! pitiful it was to hear her moan, +And very pitiful to see her die +Ere she had yielded up her sweets, or known +The joy of passion, that dread mystery +Which not to know is not to live at all, +And yet to know is to be held in death's most deadly thrall. + +But as it hapt the Queen of Cythere, +Who with Adonis all night long had lain +Within some shepherd's hut in Arcady, +On team of silver doves and gilded wain +Was journeying Paphos-ward, high up afar +From mortal ken between the mountains and the morning star, + +And when low down she spied the hapless pair, +And heard the Oread's faint despairing cry, +Whose cadence seemed to play upon the air +As though it were a viol, hastily +She bade her pigeons fold each straining plume, +And dropt to earth, and reached the strand, and saw their dolorous +doom. + +For as a gardener turning back his head +To catch the last notes of the linnet, mows +With careless scythe too near some flower bed, +And cuts the thorny pillar of the rose, +And with the flower's loosened loneliness +Strews the brown mould; or as some shepherd lad in wantonness + +Driving his little flock along the mead +Treads down two daffodils, which side by aide +Have lured the lady-bird with yellow brede +And made the gaudy moth forget its pride, +Treads down their brimming golden chalices +Under light feet which were not made for such rude ravages; + +Or as a schoolboy tired of his book +Flings himself down upon the reedy grass +And plucks two water-lilies from the brook, +And for a time forgets the hour glass, +Then wearies of their sweets, and goes his way, +And lets the hot sun kill them, even go these lovers lay. + +And Venus cried, 'It is dread Artemis +Whose bitter hand hath wrought this cruelty, +Or else that mightier maid whose care it is +To guard her strong and stainless majesty +Upon the hill Athenian, - alas! +That they who loved so well unloved into Death's house should +pass.' + +So with soft hands she laid the boy and girl +In the great golden waggon tenderly +(Her white throat whiter than a moony pearl +Just threaded with a blue vein's tapestry +Had not yet ceased to throb, and still her breast +Swayed like a wind-stirred lily in ambiguous unrest) + +And then each pigeon spread its milky van, +The bright car soared into the dawning sky, +And like a cloud the aerial caravan +Passed over the AEgean silently, +Till the faint air was troubled with the song +From the wan mouths that call on bleeding Thammuz all night long. + +But when the doves had reached their wonted goal +Where the wide stair of orbed marble dips +Its snows into the sea, her fluttering soul +Just shook the trembling petals of her lips +And passed into the void, and Venus knew +That one fair maid the less would walk amid her retinue, + +And bade her servants carve a cedar chest +With all the wonder of this history, +Within whose scented womb their limbs should rest +Where olive-trees make tender the blue sky +On the low hills of Paphos, and the Faun +Pipes in the noonday, and the nightingale sings on till dawn. + +Nor failed they to obey her hest, and ere +The morning bee had stung the daffodil +With tiny fretful spear, or from its lair +The waking stag had leapt across the rill +And roused the ouzel, or the lizard crept +Athwart the sunny rock, beneath the grass their bodies slept. + +And when day brake, within that silver shrine +Fed by the flames of cressets tremulous, +Queen Venus knelt and prayed to Proserpine +That she whose beauty made Death amorous +Should beg a guerdon from her pallid Lord, +And let Desire pass across dread Charon's icy ford. + + +III + + +In melancholy moonless Acheron, +Farm for the goodly earth and joyous day +Where no spring ever buds, nor ripening sun +Weighs down the apple trees, nor flowery May +Chequers with chestnut blooms the grassy floor, +Where thrushes never sing, and piping linnets mate no more, + +There by a dim and dark Lethaean well +Young Charmides was lying; wearily +He plucked the blossoms from the asphodel, +And with its little rifled treasury +Strewed the dull waters of the dusky stream, +And watched the white stars founder, and the land was like a dream, + +When as he gazed into the watery glass +And through his brown hair's curly tangles scanned +His own wan face, a shadow seemed to pass +Across the mirror, and a little hand +Stole into his, and warm lips timidly +Brushed his pale cheeks, and breathed their secret forth into a +sigh. + +Then turned he round his weary eyes and saw, +And ever nigher still their faces came, +And nigher ever did their young mouths draw +Until they seemed one perfect rose of flame, +And longing arms around her neck he cast, +And felt her throbbing bosom, and his breath came hot and fast, + +And all his hoarded sweets were hers to kiss, +And all her maidenhood was his to slay, +And limb to limb in long and rapturous bliss +Their passion waxed and waned, - O why essay +To pipe again of love, too venturous reed! +Enough, enough that Eros laughed upon that flowerless mead. + +Too venturous poesy, O why essay +To pipe again of passion! fold thy wings +O'er daring Icarus and bid thy lay +Sleep hidden in the lyre's silent strings +Till thou hast found the old Castalian rill, +Or from the Lesbian waters plucked drowned Sappho's golden quid! + +Enough, enough that he whose life had been +A fiery pulse of sin, a splendid shame, +Could in the loveless land of Hades glean +One scorching harvest from those fields of flame +Where passion walks with naked unshod feet +And is not wounded, - ah! enough that once their lips could meet + +In that wild throb when all existences +Seemed narrowed to one single ecstasy +Which dies through its own sweetness and the stress +Of too much pleasure, ere Persephone +Had bade them serve her by the ebon throne +Of the pale God who in the fields of Enna loosed her zone. + + + + +POEMS + + + + +REQUIESCAT + + + +Tread lightly, she is near +Under the snow, +Speak gently, she can hear +The daisies grow. + +All her bright golden hair +Tarnished with rust, +She that was young and fair +Fallen to dust. + +Lily-like, white as snow, +She hardly knew +She was a woman, so +Sweetly she grew. + +Coffin-board, heavy stone, +Lie on her breast, +I vex my heart alone, +She is at rest. + +Peace, Peace, she cannot hear +Lyre or sonnet, +All my life's buried here, +Heap earth upon it. + +AVIGNON + + + +SAN MINIATO + + + +See, I have climbed the mountain side +Up to this holy house of God, +Where once that Angel-Painter trod +Who saw the heavens opened wide, + +And throned upon the crescent moon +The Virginal white Queen of Grace, - +Mary! could I but see thy face +Death could not come at all too soon. + +O crowned by God with thorns and pain! +Mother of Christ! O mystic wife! +My heart is weary of this life +And over-sad to sing again. + +O crowned by God with love and flame! +O crowned by Christ the Holy One! +O listen ere the searching sun +Show to the world my sin and shame. + + + +ROME UNVISITED + + + +I. + + +The corn has turned from grey to red, +Since first my spirit wandered forth +From the drear cities of the north, +And to Italia's mountains fled. + +And here I set my face towards home, +For all my pilgrimage is done, +Although, methinks, yon blood-red sun +Marshals the way to Holy Rome. + +O Blessed Lady, who dost hold +Upon the seven hills thy reign! +O Mother without blot or stain, +Crowned with bright crowns of triple gold! + +O Roma, Roma, at thy feet +I lay this barren gift of song! +For, ah! the way is steep and long +That leads unto thy sacred street. + + +II. + + +And yet what joy it were for me +To turn my feet unto the south, +And journeying towards the Tiber mouth +To kneel again at Fiesole! + +And wandering through the tangled pines +That break the gold of Arno's stream, +To see the purple mist and gleam +Of morning on the Apennines + +By many a vineyard-hidden home, +Orchard and olive-garden grey, +Till from the drear Campagna's way +The seven hills bear up the dome! + + +III. + + +A pilgrim from the northern seas - +What joy for me to seek alone +The wondrous temple and the throne +Of him who holds the awful keys! + +When, bright with purple and with gold +Come priest and holy cardinal, +And borne above the heads of all +The gentle Shepherd of the Fold. + +O joy to see before I die +The only God-anointed king, +And hear the silver trumpets ring +A triumph as he passes by! + +Or at the brazen-pillared shrine +Holds high the mystic sacrifice, +And shows his God to human eyes +Beneath the veil of bread and wine. + + +IV. + + +For lo, what changes time can bring! +The cycles of revolving years +May free my heart from all its fears, +And teach my lips a song to sing. + +Before yon field of trembling gold +Is garnered into dusty sheaves, +Or ere the autumn's scarlet leaves +Flutter as birds adown the wold, + +I may have run the glorious race, +And caught the torch while yet aflame, +And called upon the holy name +Of Him who now doth hide His face. + +ARONA + + + +HUMANITAD + + + +It is full winter now: the trees are bare, +Save where the cattle huddle from the cold +Beneath the pine, for it doth never wear +The autumn's gaudy livery whose gold +Her jealous brother pilfers, but is true +To the green doublet; bitter is the wind, as though it blew + +From Saturn's cave; a few thin wisps of hay +Lie on the sharp black hedges, where the wain +Dragged the sweet pillage of a summer's day +From the low meadows up the narrow lane; +Upon the half-thawed snow the bleating sheep +Press close against the hurdles, and the shivering house-dogs creep + +From the shut stable to the frozen stream +And back again disconsolate, and miss +The bawling shepherds and the noisy team; +And overhead in circling listlessness +The cawing rooks whirl round the frosted stack, +Or crowd the dripping boughs; and in the fen the ice-pools crack + +Where the gaunt bittern stalks among the reeds +And flaps his wings, and stretches back his neck, +And hoots to see the moon; across the meads +Limps the poor frightened hare, a little speck; +And a stray seamew with its fretful cry +Flits like a sudden drift of snow against the dull grey sky. + +Full winter: and the lusty goodman brings +His load of faggots from the chilly byre, +And stamps his feet upon the hearth, and flings +The sappy billets on the waning fire, +And laughs to see the sudden lightening scare +His children at their play, and yet, - the spring is in the air; + +Already the slim crocus stirs the snow, +And soon yon blanched fields will bloom again +With nodding cowslips for some lad to mow, +For with the first warm kisses of the rain +The winter's icy sorrow breaks to tears, +And the brown thrushes mate, and with bright eyes the rabbit peers + +From the dark warren where the fir-cones lie, +And treads one snowdrop under foot, and runs +Over the mossy knoll, and blackbirds fly +Across our path at evening, and the suns +Stay longer with us; ah! how good to see +Grass-girdled spring in all her joy of laughing greenery + +Dance through the hedges till the early rose, +(That sweet repentance of the thorny briar!) +Burst from its sheathed emerald and disclose +The little quivering disk of golden fire +Which the bees know so well, for with it come +Pale boy's-love, sops-in-wine, and daffadillies all in bloom. + +Then up and down the field the sower goes, +While close behind the laughing younker scares +With shrilly whoop the black and thievish crows, +And then the chestnut-tree its glory wears, +And on the grass the creamy blossom falls +In odorous excess, and faint half-whispered madrigals + +Steal from the bluebells' nodding carillons +Each breezy morn, and then white jessamine, +That star of its own heaven, snap-dragons +With lolling crimson tongues, and eglantine +In dusty velvets clad usurp the bed +And woodland empery, and when the lingering rose hath shed + +Red leaf by leaf its folded panoply, +And pansies closed their purple-lidded eyes, +Chrysanthemums from gilded argosy +Unload their gaudy scentless merchandise, +And violets getting overbold withdraw +From their shy nooks, and scarlet berries dot the leafless haw. + +O happy field! and O thrice happy tree! +Soon will your queen in daisy-flowered smock +And crown of flower-de-luce trip down the lea, +Soon will the lazy shepherds drive their flock +Back to the pasture by the pool, and soon +Through the green leaves will float the hum of murmuring bees at +noon. + +Soon will the glade be bright with bellamour, +The flower which wantons love, and those sweet nuns +Vale-lilies in their snowy vestiture +Will tell their beaded pearls, and carnations +With mitred dusky leaves will scent the wind, +And straggling traveller's-joy each hedge with yellow stars will +bind. + +Dear bride of Nature and most bounteous spring, +That canst give increase to the sweet-breath'd kine, +And to the kid its little horns, and bring +The soft and silky blossoms to the vine, +Where is that old nepenthe which of yore +Man got from poppy root and glossy-berried mandragore! + +There was a time when any common bird +Could make me sing in unison, a time +When all the strings of boyish life were stirred +To quick response or more melodious rhyme +By every forest idyll; - do I change? +Or rather doth some evil thing through thy fair pleasaunce range? + +Nay, nay, thou art the same: 'tis I who seek +To vex with sighs thy simple solitude, +And because fruitless tears bedew my cheek +Would have thee weep with me in brotherhood; +Fool! shall each wronged and restless spirit dare +To taint such wine with the salt poison of own despair! + +Thou art the same: 'tis I whose wretched soul +Takes discontent to be its paramour, +And gives its kingdom to the rude control +Of what should be its servitor, - for sure +Wisdom is somewhere, though the stormy sea +Contain it not, and the huge deep answer ''Tis not in me.' + +To burn with one clear flame, to stand erect +In natural honour, not to bend the knee +In profitless prostrations whose effect +Is by itself condemned, what alchemy +Can teach me this? what herb Medea brewed +Will bring the unexultant peace of essence not subdued? + +The minor chord which ends the harmony, +And for its answering brother waits in vain +Sobbing for incompleted melody, +Dies a swan's death; but I the heir of pain, +A silent Memnon with blank lidless eyes, +Wait for the light and music of those suns which never rise. + +The quenched-out torch, the lonely cypress-gloom, +The little dust stored in the narrow urn, +The gentle XAIPE of the Attic tomb, - +Were not these better far than to return +To my old fitful restless malady, +Or spend my days within the voiceless cave of misery? + +Nay! for perchance that poppy-crowned god +Is like the watcher by a sick man's bed +Who talks of sleep but gives it not; his rod +Hath lost its virtue, and, when all is said, +Death is too rude, too obvious a key +To solve one single secret in a life's philosophy. + +And Love! that noble madness, whose august +And inextinguishable might can slay +The soul with honeyed drugs, - alas! I must +From such sweet ruin play the runaway, +Although too constant memory never can +Forget the arched splendour of those brows Olympian + +Which for a little season made my youth +So soft a swoon of exquisite indolence +That all the chiding of more prudent Truth +Seemed the thin voice of jealousy, - O hence +Thou huntress deadlier than Artemis! +Go seek some other quarry! for of thy too perilous bliss. + +My lips have drunk enough, - no more, no more, - +Though Love himself should turn his gilded prow +Back to the troubled waters of this shore +Where I am wrecked and stranded, even now +The chariot wheels of passion sweep too near, +Hence! Hence! I pass unto a life more barren, more austere. + +More barren - ay, those arms will never lean +Down through the trellised vines and draw my soul +In sweet reluctance through the tangled green; +Some other head must wear that aureole, +For I am hers who loves not any man +Whose white and stainless bosom bears the sign Gorgonian. + +Let Venus go and chuck her dainty page, +And kiss his mouth, and toss his curly hair, +With net and spear and hunting equipage +Let young Adonis to his tryst repair, +But me her fond and subtle-fashioned spell +Delights no more, though I could win her dearest citadel. + +Ay, though I were that laughing shepherd boy +Who from Mount Ida saw the little cloud +Pass over Tenedos and lofty Troy +And knew the coming of the Queen, and bowed +In wonder at her feet, not for the sake +Of a new Helen would I bid her hand the apple take. + +Then rise supreme Athena argent-limbed! +And, if my lips be musicless, inspire +At least my life: was not thy glory hymned +By One who gave to thee his sword and lyre +Like AEschylos at well-fought Marathon, +And died to show that Milton's England still could bear a son! + +And yet I cannot tread the Portico +And live without desire, fear and pain, +Or nurture that wise calm which long ago +The grave Athenian master taught to men, +Self-poised, self-centred, and self-comforted, +To watch the world's vain phantasies go by with unbowed head. + +Alas! that serene brow, those eloquent lips, +Those eyes that mirrored all eternity, +Rest in their own Colonos, an eclipse +Hath come on Wisdom, and Mnemosyne +Is childless; in the night which she had made +For lofty secure flight Athena's owl itself hath strayed. + +Nor much with Science do I care to climb, +Although by strange and subtle witchery +She drew the moon from heaven: the Muse Time +Unrolls her gorgeous-coloured tapestry +To no less eager eyes; often indeed +In the great epic of Polymnia's scroll I love to read + +How Asia sent her myriad hosts to war +Against a little town, and panoplied +In gilded mail with jewelled scimitar, +White-shielded, purple-crested, rode the Mede +Between the waving poplars and the sea +Which men call Artemisium, till he saw Thermopylae + +Its steep ravine spanned by a narrow wall, +And on the nearer side a little brood +Of careless lions holding festival! +And stood amazed at such hardihood, +And pitched his tent upon the reedy shore, +And stayed two days to wonder, and then crept at midnight o'er + +Some unfrequented height, and coming down +The autumn forests treacherously slew +What Sparta held most dear and was the crown +Of far Eurotas, and passed on, nor knew +How God had staked an evil net for him +In the small bay at Salamis, - and yet, the page grows dim, + +Its cadenced Greek delights me not, I feel +With such a goodly time too out of tune +To love it much: for like the Dial's wheel +That from its blinded darkness strikes the noon +Yet never sees the sun, so do my eyes +Restlessly follow that which from my cheated vision flies. + +O for one grand unselfish simple life +To teach us what is Wisdom! speak ye hills +Of lone Helvellyn, for this note of strife +Shunned your untroubled crags and crystal rills, +Where is that Spirit which living blamelessly +Yet dared to kiss the smitten mouth of his own century! + +Speak ye Rydalian laurels! where is he +Whose gentle head ye sheltered, that pure soul +Whose gracious days of uncrowned majesty +Through lowliest conduct touched the lofty goal +Where love and duty mingle! Him at least +The most high Laws were glad of, he had sat at Wisdom's feast; + +But we are Learning's changelings, know by rote +The clarion watchword of each Grecian school +And follow none, the flawless sword which smote +The pagan Hydra is an effete tool +Which we ourselves have blunted, what man now +Shall scale the august ancient heights and to old Reverence bow? + +One such indeed I saw, but, Ichabod! +Gone is that last dear son of Italy, +Who being man died for the sake of God, +And whose unrisen bones sleep peacefully, +O guard him, guard him well, my Giotto's tower, +Thou marble lily of the lily town! let not the lour + +Of the rude tempest vex his slumber, or +The Arno with its tawny troubled gold +O'er-leap its marge, no mightier conqueror +Clomb the high Capitol in the days of old +When Rome was indeed Rome, for Liberty +Walked like a bride beside him, at which sight pale Mystery + +Fled shrieking to her farthest sombrest cell +With an old man who grabbled rusty keys, +Fled shuddering, for that immemorial knell +With which oblivion buries dynasties +Swept like a wounded eagle on the blast, +As to the holy heart of Rome the great triumvir passed. + +He knew the holiest heart and heights of Rome, +He drave the base wolf from the lion's lair, +And now lies dead by that empyreal dome +Which overtops Valdarno hung in air +By Brunelleschi - O Melpomene +Breathe through thy melancholy pipe thy sweetest threnody! + +Breathe through the tragic stops such melodies +That Joy's self may grow jealous, and the Nine +Forget awhile their discreet emperies, +Mourning for him who on Rome's lordliest shrine +Lit for men's lives the light of Marathon, +And bare to sun-forgotten fields the fire of the sun! + +O guard him, guard him well, my Giotto's tower! +Let some young Florentine each eventide +Bring coronals of that enchanted flower +Which the dim woods of Vallombrosa hide, +And deck the marble tomb wherein he lies +Whose soul is as some mighty orb unseen of mortal eyes; + +Some mighty orb whose cycled wanderings, +Being tempest-driven to the farthest rim +Where Chaos meets Creation and the wings +Of the eternal chanting Cherubim +Are pavilioned on Nothing, passed away +Into a moonless void, - and yet, though he is dust and clay, + +He is not dead, the immemorial Fates +Forbid it, and the closing shears refrain. +Lift up your heads ye everlasting gates! +Ye argent clarions, sound a loftier strain +For the vile thing he hated lurks within +Its sombre house, alone with God and memories of sin. + +Still what avails it that she sought her cave +That murderous mother of red harlotries? +At Munich on the marble architrave +The Grecian boys die smiling, but the seas +Which wash AEgina fret in loneliness +Not mirroring their beauty; so our lives grow colourless + +For lack of our ideals, if one star +Flame torch-like in the heavens the unjust +Swift daylight kills it, and no trump of war +Can wake to passionate voice the silent dust +Which was Mazzini once! rich Niobe +For all her stony sorrows hath her sons; but Italy, + +What Easter Day shall make her children rise, +Who were not Gods yet suffered? what sure feet +Shall find their grave-clothes folded? what clear eyes +Shall see them bodily? O it were meet +To roll the stone from off the sepulchre +And kiss the bleeding roses of their wounds, in love of her, + +Our Italy! our mother visible! +Most blessed among nations and most sad, +For whose dear sake the young Calabrian fell +That day at Aspromonte and was glad +That in an age when God was bought and sold +One man could die for Liberty! but we, burnt out and cold, + +See Honour smitten on the cheek and gyves +Bind the sweet feet of Mercy: Poverty +Creeps through our sunless lanes and with sharp knives +Cuts the warm throats of children stealthily, +And no word said:- O we are wretched men +Unworthy of our great inheritance! where is the pen + +Of austere Milton? where the mighty sword +Which slew its master righteously? the years +Have lost their ancient leader, and no word +Breaks from the voiceless tripod on our ears: +While as a ruined mother in some spasm +Bears a base child and loathes it, so our best enthusiasm + +Genders unlawful children, Anarchy +Freedom's own Judas, the vile prodigal +Licence who steals the gold of Liberty +And yet has nothing, Ignorance the real +One Fraticide since Cain, Envy the asp +That stings itself to anguish, Avarice whose palsied grasp + +Is in its extent stiffened, moneyed Greed +For whose dull appetite men waste away +Amid the whirr of wheels and are the seed +Of things which slay their sower, these each day +Sees rife in England, and the gentle feet +Of Beauty tread no more the stones of each unlovely street. + +What even Cromwell spared is desecrated +By weed and worm, left to the stormy play +Of wind and beating snow, or renovated +By more destructful hands: Time's worst decay +Will wreathe its ruins with some loveliness, +But these new Vandals can but make a rain-proof barrenness. + +Where is that Art which bade the Angels sing +Through Lincoln's lofty choir, till the air +Seems from such marble harmonies to ring +With sweeter song than common lips can dare +To draw from actual reed? ah! where is now +The cunning hand which made the flowering hawthorn branches bow + +For Southwell's arch, and carved the House of One +Who loved the lilies of the field with all +Our dearest English flowers? the same sun +Rises for us: the seasons natural +Weave the same tapestry of green and grey: +The unchanged hills are with us: but that Spirit hath passed away. + +And yet perchance it may be better so, +For Tyranny is an incestuous Queen, +Murder her brother is her bedfellow, +And the Plague chambers with her: in obscene +And bloody paths her treacherous feet are set; +Better the empty desert and a soul inviolate! + +For gentle brotherhood, the harmony +Of living in the healthful air, the swift +Clean beauty of strong limbs when men are free +And women chaste, these are the things which lift +Our souls up more than even Agnolo's +Gaunt blinded Sibyl poring o'er the scroll of human woes, + +Or Titian's little maiden on the stair +White as her own sweet lily and as tall, +Or Mona Lisa smiling through her hair, - +Ah! somehow life is bigger after all +Than any painted angel, could we see +The God that is within us! The old Greek serenity + +Which curbs the passion of that level line +Of marble youths, who with untroubled eyes +And chastened limbs ride round Athena's shrine +And mirror her divine economies, +And balanced symmetry of what in man +Would else wage ceaseless warfare, - this at least within the span + +Between our mother's kisses and the grave +Might so inform our lives, that we could win +Such mighty empires that from her cave +Temptation would grow hoarse, and pallid Sin +Would walk ashamed of his adulteries, +And Passion creep from out the House of Lust with startled eyes. + +To make the body and the spirit one +With all right things, till no thing live in vain +From morn to noon, but in sweet unison +With every pulse of flesh and throb of brain +The soul in flawless essence high enthroned, +Against all outer vain attack invincibly bastioned, + +Mark with serene impartiality +The strife of things, and yet be comforted, +Knowing that by the chain causality +All separate existences are wed +Into one supreme whole, whose utterance +Is joy, or holier praise! ah! surely this were governance + +Of Life in most august omnipresence, +Through which the rational intellect would find +In passion its expression, and mere sense, +Ignoble else, lend fire to the mind, +And being joined with it in harmony +More mystical than that which binds the stars planetary, + +Strike from their several tones one octave chord +Whose cadence being measureless would fly +Through all the circling spheres, then to its Lord +Return refreshed with its new empery +And more exultant power, - this indeed +Could we but reach it were to find the last, the perfect creed. + +Ah! it was easy when the world was young +To keep one's life free and inviolate, +From our sad lips another song is rung, +By our own hands our heads are desecrate, +Wanderers in drear exile, and dispossessed +Of what should be our own, we can but feed on wild unrest. + +Somehow the grace, the bloom of things has flown, +And of all men we are most wretched who +Must live each other's lives and not our own +For very pity's sake and then undo +All that we lived for - it was otherwise +When soul and body seemed to blend in mystic symphonies. + +But we have left those gentle haunts to pass +With weary feet to the new Calvary, +Where we behold, as one who in a glass +Sees his own face, self-slain Humanity, +And in the dumb reproach of that sad gaze +Learn what an awful phantom the red hand of man can raise. + +O smitten mouth! O forehead crowned with thorn! +O chalice of all common miseries! +Thou for our sakes that loved thee not hast borne +An agony of endless centuries, +And we were vain and ignorant nor knew +That when we stabbed thy heart it was our own real hearts we slew. + +Being ourselves the sowers and the seeds, +The night that covers and the lights that fade, +The spear that pierces and the side that bleeds, +The lips betraying and the life betrayed; +The deep hath calm: the moon hath rest: but we +Lords of the natural world are yet our own dread enemy. + +Is this the end of all that primal force +Which, in its changes being still the same, +From eyeless Chaos cleft its upward course, +Through ravenous seas and whirling rocks and flame, +Till the suns met in heaven and began +Their cycles, and the morning stars sang, and the Word was Man! + +Nay, nay, we are but crucified, and though +The bloody sweat falls from our brows like rain +Loosen the nails - we shall come down I know, +Staunch the red wounds - we shall be whole again, +No need have we of hyssop-laden rod, +That which is purely human, that is godlike, that is God. + + + +LOUIS NAPOLEON + + + +Eagle of Austerlitz! where were thy wings +When far away upon a barbarous strand, +In fight unequal, by an obscure hand, +Fell the last scion of thy brood of Kings! + +Poor boy! thou shalt not flaunt thy cloak of red, +Or ride in state through Paris in the van +Of thy returning legions, but instead +Thy mother France, free and republican, + +Shall on thy dead and crownless forehead place +The better laurels of a soldier's crown, +That not dishonoured should thy soul go down +To tell the mighty Sire of thy race + +That France hath kissed the mouth of Liberty, +And found it sweeter than his honied bees, +And that the giant wave Democracy +Breaks on the shores where Kings lay couched at ease. + + + +ENDYMION (For music) + + + +The apple trees are hung with gold, +And birds are loud in Arcady, +The sheep lie bleating in the fold, +The wild goat runs across the wold, +But yesterday his love he told, +I know he will come back to me. +O rising moon! O Lady moon! +Be you my lover's sentinel, +You cannot choose but know him well, +For he is shod with purple shoon, +You cannot choose but know my love, +For he a shepherd's crook doth bear, +And he is soft as any dove, +And brown and curly is his hair. + +The turtle now has ceased to call +Upon her crimson-footed groom, +The grey wolf prowls about the stall, +The lily's singing seneschal +Sleeps in the lily-bell, and all +The violet hills are lost in gloom. +O risen moon! O holy moon! +Stand on the top of Helice, +And if my own true love you see, +Ah! if you see the purple shoon, +The hazel crook, the lad's brown hair, +The goat-skin wrapped about his arm, +Tell him that I am waiting where +The rushlight glimmers in the Farm. + +The falling dew is cold and chill, +And no bird sings in Arcady, +The little fauns have left the hill, +Even the tired daffodil +Has closed its gilded doors, and still +My lover comes not back to me. +False moon! False moon! O waning moon! +Where is my own true lover gone, +Where are the lips vermilion, +The shepherd's crook, the purple shoon? +Why spread that silver pavilion, +Why wear that veil of drifting mist? +Ah! thou hast young Endymion +Thou hast the lips that should be kissed! + + + +LE JARDIN + + + +The lily's withered chalice falls +Around its rod of dusty gold, +And from the beech-trees on the wold +The last wood-pigeon coos and calls. + +The gaudy leonine sunflower +Hangs black and barren on its stalk, +And down the windy garden walk +The dead leaves scatter, - hour by hour. + +Pale privet-petals white as milk +Are blown into a snowy mass: +The roses lie upon the grass +Like little shreds of crimson silk. + + + +LA MER + + + +A white mist drifts across the shrouds, +A wild moon in this wintry sky +Gleams like an angry lion's eye +Out of a mane of tawny clouds. + +The muffled steersman at the wheel +Is but a shadow in the gloom; - +And in the throbbing engine-room +Leap the long rods of polished steel. + +The shattered storm has left its trace +Upon this huge and heaving dome, +For the thin threads of yellow foam +Float on the waves like ravelled lace. + + + +LE PANNEAU + + + +Under the rose-tree's dancing shade +There stands a little ivory girl, +Pulling the leaves of pink and pearl +With pale green nails of polished jade. + +The red leaves fall upon the mould, +The white leaves flutter, one by one, +Down to a blue bowl where the sun, +Like a great dragon, writhes in gold. + +The white leaves float upon the air, +The red leaves flutter idly down, +Some fall upon her yellow gown, +And some upon her raven hair. + +She takes an amber lute and sings, +And as she sings a silver crane +Begins his scarlet neck to strain, +And flap his burnished metal wings. + +She takes a lute of amber bright, +And from the thicket where he lies +Her lover, with his almond eyes, +Watches her movements in delight. + +And now she gives a cry of fear, +And tiny tears begin to start: +A thorn has wounded with its dart +The pink-veined sea-shell of her ear. + +And now she laughs a merry note: +There has fallen a petal of the rose +Just where the yellow satin shows +The blue-veined flower of her throat. + +With pale green nails of polished jade, +Pulling the leaves of pink and pearl, +There stands a little ivory girl +Under the rose-tree's dancing shade. + + + +LES BALLONS + + + +Against these turbid turquoise skies +The light and luminous balloons +Dip and drift like satin moons +Drift like silken butterflies; + +Reel with every windy gust, +Rise and reel like dancing girls, +Float like strange transparent pearls, +Fall and float like silver dust. + +Now to the low leaves they cling, +Each with coy fantastic pose, +Each a petal of a rose +Straining at a gossamer string. + +Then to the tall trees they climb, +Like thin globes of amethyst, +Wandering opals keeping tryst +With the rubies of the lime. + + + +CANZONET + + + +I have no store +Of gryphon-guarded gold; +Now, as before, +Bare is the shepherd's fold. +Rubies nor pearls +Have I to gem thy throat; +Yet woodland girls +Have loved the shepherd's note. + +Then pluck a reed +And bid me sing to thee, +For I would feed +Thine ears with melody, +Who art more fair +Than fairest fleur-de-lys, +More sweet and rare +Than sweetest ambergris. + +What dost thou fear? +Young Hyacinth is slain, +Pan is not here, +And will not come again. +No horned Faun +Treads down the yellow leas, +No God at dawn +Steals through the olive trees. + +Hylas is dead, +Nor will he e'er divine +Those little red +Rose-petalled lips of thine. +On the high hill +No ivory dryads play, +Silver and still +Sinks the sad autumn day. + + + +LE JARDIN DES TUILERIES + + + +This winter air is keen and cold, +And keen and cold this winter sun, +But round my chair the children run +Like little things of dancing gold. + +Sometimes about the painted kiosk +The mimic soldiers strut and stride, +Sometimes the blue-eyed brigands hide +In the bleak tangles of the bosk. + +And sometimes, while the old nurse cons +Her book, they steal across the square, +And launch their paper navies where +Huge Triton writhes in greenish bronze. + +And now in mimic flight they flee, +And now they rush, a boisterous band - +And, tiny hand on tiny hand, +Climb up the black and leafless tree. + +Ah! cruel tree! if I were you, +And children climbed me, for their sake +Though it be winter I would break +Into spring blossoms white and blue! + + + +PAN - DOUBLE VILLANELLE + + + +I. + + +O goat-foot God of Arcady! +This modern world is grey and old, +And what remains to us of thee? + +No more the shepherd lads in glee +Throw apples at thy wattled fold, +O goat-foot God of Arcady! + +Nor through the laurels can one see +Thy soft brown limbs, thy beard of gold +And what remains to us of thee? + +And dull and dead our Thames would be, +For here the winds are chill and cold, +O goat-loot God of Arcady! + +Then keep the tomb of Helice, +Thine olive-woods, thy vine-clad wold, +And what remains to us of thee? + +Though many an unsung elegy +Sleeps in the reeds our rivers hold, +O goat-foot God of Arcady! +Ah, what remains to us of thee? + + +II. + + +Ah, leave the hills of Arcady, +Thy satyrs and their wanton play, +This modern world hath need of thee. + +No nymph or Faun indeed have we, +For Faun and nymph are old and grey, +Ah, leave the hills of Arcady! + +This is the land where liberty +Lit grave-browed Milton on his way, +This modern world hath need of thee! + +A land of ancient chivalry +Where gentle Sidney saw the day, +Ah, leave the hills of Arcady! + +This fierce sea-lion of the sea, +This England lacks some stronger lay, +This modern world hath need of thee! + +Then blow some trumpet loud and free, +And give thine oaten pipe away, +Ah, leave the hills of Arcady! +This modern world hath need of thee! + + + +IN THE FOREST + + + +Out of the mid-wood's twilight +Into the meadow's dawn, +Ivory limbed and brown-eyed, +Flashes my Faun! + +He skips through the copses singing, +And his shadow dances along, +And I know not which I should follow, +Shadow or song! + +O Hunter, snare me his shadow! +O Nightingale, catch me his strain! +Else moonstruck with music and madness +I track him in vain! + + + +SYMPHONY IN YELLOW + + + +An omnibus across the bridge +Crawls like a yellow butterfly +And, here and there, a passer-by +Shows like a little restless midge. + +Big barges full of yellow hay +Are moored against the shadowy wharf, +And, like a yellow silken scarf, +The thick fog hangs along the quay. + +The yellow leaves begin to fade +And flutter from the Temple elms, +And at my feet the pale green Thames +Lies like a rod of rippled jade. + + + + +SONNETS + + + + +HELAS! + + + +To drift with every passion till my soul +Is a stringed lute on which can winds can play, +Is it for this that I have given away +Mine ancient wisdom and austere control? +Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll +Scrawled over on some boyish holiday +With idle songs for pipe and virelay, +Which do but mar the secret of the whole. +Surely there was a time I might have trod +The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance +Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God: +Is that time dead? lo! with a little rod +I did but touch the honey of romance - +And must I lose a soul's inheritance? + + + +TO MILTON + + + +Milton! I think thy spirit hath passed away +From these white cliffs and high-embattled towers; +This gorgeous fiery-coloured world of ours +Seems fallen into ashes dull and grey, +And the age changed unto a mimic play +Wherein we waste our else too-crowded hours: +For all our pomp and pageantry and powers +We are but fit to delve the common clay, +Seeing this little isle on which we stand, +This England, this sea-lion of the sea, +By ignorant demagogues is held in fee, +Who love her not: Dear God! is this the land +Which bare a triple empire in her hand +When Cromwell spake the word Democracy! + + + +ON THE MASSACRE OF THE CHRISTIANS IN BULGARIA + + + +Christ, dost Thou live indeed? or are Thy bones +Still straitened in their rock-hewn sepulchre? +And was Thy Rising only dreamed by her +Whose love of Thee for all her sin atones? +For here the air is horrid with men's groans, +The priests who call upon Thy name are slain, +Dost Thou not hear the bitter wail of pain +From those whose children lie upon the stones? +Come down, O Son of God! incestuous gloom +Curtains the land, and through the starless night +Over Thy Cross a Crescent moon I see! +If Thou in very truth didst burst the tomb +Come down, O Son of Man! and show Thy might +Lest Mahomet be crowned instead of Thee! + + + +HOLY WEEK AT GENOA + + + +I wandered through Scoglietto's far retreat, +The oranges on each o'erhanging spray +Burned as bright lamps of gold to shame the day; +Some startled bird with fluttering wings and fleet +Made snow of all the blossoms; at my feet +Like silver moons the pale narcissi lay: +And the curved waves that streaked the great green bay +Laughed i' the sun, and life seemed very sweet. +Outside the young boy-priest passed singing clear, +'Jesus the son of Mary has been slain, +O come and fill His sepulchre with flowers.' +Ah, God! Ah, God! those dear Hellenic hours +Had drowned all memory of Thy bitter pain, +The Cross, the Crown, the Soldiers and the Spear. + + + +URBS SACRA AETERNA + + + +Rome! what a scroll of History thine has been; +In the first days thy sword republican +Ruled the whole world for many an age's span: +Then of the peoples wert thou royal Queen, +Till in thy streets the bearded Goth was seen; +And now upon thy walls the breezes fan +(Ah, city crowned by God, discrowned by man!) +The hated flag of red and white and green. +When was thy glory! when in search for power +Thine eagles flew to greet the double sun, +And the wild nations shuddered at thy rod? +Nay, but thy glory tarried for this hour, +When pilgrims kneel before the Holy One, +The prisoned shepherd of the Church of God. + +MONTRE MARIO + + + +E TENEBRIS + + + +Come down, O Christ, and help me! reach Thy hand, +For I am drowning in a stormier sea +Than Simon on Thy lake of Galilee: +The wine of life is spilt upon the sand, +My heart is as some famine-murdered land +Whence all good things have perished utterly, +And well I know my soul in Hell must lie +If I this night before God's throne should stand. +'He sleeps perchance, or rideth to the chase, +Like Baal, when his prophets howled that name +From morn to noon on Carmel's smitten height.' +Nay, peace, I shall behold, before the night, +The feet of brass, the robe more white than flame, +The wounded hands, the weary human face. + + + +AT VERONA + + + +How steep the stairs within King's houses are +For exile-wearied feet as mine to tread, +And O how salt and bitter is the bread +Which falls from this Hound's table, - better far +That I had died in the red ways of war, +Or that the gate of Florence bare my head, +Than to live thus, by all things comraded +Which seek the essence of my soul to mar. + +'Curse God and die: what better hope than this? +He hath forgotten thee in all the bliss +Of his gold city, and eternal day' - +Nay peace: behind my prison's blinded bars +I do possess what none can take away, +My love and all the glory of the stars. + + + +ON THE SALE BY AUCTION OF KEATS' LOVE LETTERS + + + +These are the letters which Endymion wrote +To one he loved in secret, and apart. +And now the brawlers of the auction mart +Bargain and bid for each poor blotted note, +Ay! for each separate pulse of passion quote +The merchant's price. I think they love not art +Who break the crystal of a poet's heart +That small and sickly eyes may glare and gloat. + +Is it not said that many years ago, +In a far Eastern town, some soldiers ran +With torches through the midnight, and began +To wrangle for mean raiment, and to throw +Dice for the garments of a wretched man, +Not knowing the God's wonder, or His woe? + + + +THE NEW REMORSE + + + +The sin was mine; I did not understand. +So now is music prisoned in her cave, +Save where some ebbing desultory wave +Frets with its restless whirls this meagre strand. +And in the withered hollow of this land +Hath Summer dug herself so deep a grave, +That hardly can the leaden willow crave +One silver blossom from keen Winter's hand. + +But who is this who cometh by the shore? +(Nay, love, look up and wonder!) Who is this +Who cometh in dyed garments from the South? +It is thy new-found Lord, and he shall kiss +The yet unravished roses of thy mouth, +And I shall weep and worship, as before. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of Charmides and Other Poems by Wilde + |