diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:41:32 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:41:32 -0700 |
| commit | 0ca7048b1fbabb937a3aa2cb551042f52d824340 (patch) | |
| tree | 80414641b6266037fcd7ef50c34fddd5cbfd90fa | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 13179-0.txt | 6280 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13179-8.txt | 6665 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13179-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 94205 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13179.txt | 6665 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13179.zip | bin | 0 -> 94119 bytes |
8 files changed, 19626 insertions, 0 deletions
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/13179-0.txt b/13179-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d6cc8e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/13179-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6280 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13179 *** + +THE POEMS OF +WILLIAM WATSON + + + + +New York +MACMILLAN AND CO. +AND LONDON +1893 + + + + +Norwood Press +J.S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith. +Boston, Mass., U.S.A. + + + + +CONTENTS + +MISCELLANEOUS-- + PRELUDE + AUTUMN + WORLD-STRANGENESS + "WHEN BIRDS WERE SONGLESS" + THE MOCK SELF + "THY VOICE FROM INMOST DREAMLAND CALLS" + IN LALEHAM CHURCHYARD + THE FLIGHT OF YOUTH + "NAY, BID ME NOT MY CARES TO LEAVE" + A CHILD'S HAIR + THE KEY-BOARD + "SCENTLESS FLOW'RS I BRING THEE" + ON LANDOR'S "HELLENICS" + To ---- + ON EXAGGERATED DEFERENCE TO FOREIGN LITERARY OPINION + ENGLAND TO IRELAND + MENSIS LACRIMARUM + "UNDER THE DARK AND PINY STEEP" + THE BLIND SUMMIT + TO LORD TENNYSON + SKETCH OF A POLITICAL CHARACTER + ART MAXIMS + THE GLIMPSE + THE BALLAD OF THE "BRITAIN'S PRIDE" + LINES + THE RAVEN'S SHADOW + LUX PERDITA + ENGLAND AND HER COLONIES + HISTORY + THE EMPTY NEST + IRELAND + THE LUTE-PLAYER + "AND THESE--ARE THESE INDEED THE END" + THE RUSS AT KARA + LIBERTY REJECTED + LIFE WITHOUT HEALTH + TO A FRIEND, CHAFING AT ENFORCED IDLENESS + FROM INTERRUPTED HEALTH + "WELL HE SLUMBERS, GREATLY SLAIN" + AN EPISTLE + TO AUSTIN DOBSON + TO EDWARD CLODD + TO EDWARD DOWDEN + FELICITY +VER TENEBROSUM, SONNETS OF MARCH AND APRIL 1885-- + THE SOUDANESE + HASHEEN + THE ENGLISH DEAD + GORDON + GORDON _(concluded)_ + THE TRUE PATRIOTISM + RESTORED ALLEGIANCE + THE POLITICAL LUMINARY + FOREIGN MENACE + HOME-ROOTEDNESS + OUR EASTERN TREASURE + REPORTED CONCESSIONS + NIGHTMARE + LAST WORD: TO THE COLONIES +EPIGRAMS +WORDSWORTH'S GRAVE +LACHRYMÆ MUSARUM +DEDICATION OF "THE DREAM OF MAN" +THE DREAM OF MAN +SHELLEY'S CENTENARY +A GOLDEN HOUR +AT THE GRAVE OF CHARLES LAMB +LINES IN A FLYLEAF OF "CHRISTABEL" +LINES TO OUR NEW CENSOR +RELUCTANT SUMMER +THE GREAT MISGIVING +"THE THINGS THAT ARE MORE EXCELLENT" +BEAUTY'S METEMPSYCHOSIS +ENGLAND MY MOTHER +NIGHT +THE FUGITIVE IDEAL +"THE FORESTERS" +SONG +COLUMBUS +THE PRINCE'S QUEST +ANGELO +THE QUESTIONER +THE RIVER +CHANGED VOICES +A SUNSET +A SONG OF THREE SINGERS +LOVE'S ASTROLOGY +THREE FLOWERS +THREE ETERNITIES +LOVE OUTLOVED +VANISHINGS +BEETHOVEN +GOD-SEEKING +SKYFARING + + + + + +MISCELLANEOUS + + + + +PRELUDE + +The mighty poets from their flowing store +Dispense like casual alms the careless ore; +Through throngs of men their lonely way they go, +Let fall their costly thoughts, nor seem to know.-- +Not mine the rich and showering hand, that strews +The facile largess of a stintless Muse. +A fitful presence, seldom tarrying long, +Capriciously she touches me to song-- +Then leaves me to lament her flight in vain, +And wonder will she ever come again. + + + +AUTUMN + +Thou burden of all songs the earth hath sung, + Thou retrospect in Time's reverted eyes, + Thou metaphor of everything that dies, +That dies ill-starred, or dies beloved and young + And therefore blest and wise,-- +O be less beautiful, or be less brief, + Thou tragic splendour, strange, and full of fear! + In vain her pageant shall the Summer rear? +At thy mute signal, leaf by golden leaf, + Crumbles the gorgeous year. + +Ah, ghostly as remembered mirth, the tale + Of Summer's bloom, the legend of the Spring! + And thou, too, flutterest an impatient wing, +Thou presence yet more fugitive and frail, + Thou most unbodied thing, +Whose very being is thy going hence, + And passage and departure all thy theme; + Whose life doth still a splendid dying seem, +And thou at height of thy magnificence + A figment and a dream. + +Stilled is the virgin rapture that was June, + And cold is August's panting heart of fire; + And in the storm-dismantled forest-choir +For thine own elegy thy winds attune + Their wild and wizard lyre: +And poignant grows the charm of thy decay, + The pathos of thy beauty, and the sting, + Thou parable of greatness vanishing! +For me, thy woods of gold and skies of grey + With speech fantastic ring. + +For me, to dreams resigned, there come and go, + 'Twixt mountains draped and hooded night and morn, + Elusive notes in wandering wafture borne, +From undiscoverable lips that blow + An immaterial horn; +And spectral seem thy winter-boding trees, + Thy ruinous bowers and drifted foliage wet-- + Past and Future in sad bridal met, +O voice of everything that perishes, + And soul of all regret! + + + +WORLD-STRANGENESS + +Strange the world about me lies, + Never yet familiar grown-- +Still disturbs me with surprise, + Haunts me like a face half known. + +In this house with starry dome, + Floored with gemlike plains and seas, +Shall I never feel at home, + Never wholly be at ease? + +On from room to room I stray, + Yet my Host can ne'er espy, +And I know not to this day + Whether guest or captive I. + +So, between the starry dome + And the floor of plains and seas, +I have never felt at home, + Never wholly been at ease. + + + +"WHEN BIRDS WERE SONGLESS" + +When birds were songless on the bough + I heard thee sing. +The world was full of winter, thou + Wert full of spring. + +To-day the world's heart feels anew + The vernal thrill, +And thine beneath the rueful yew + Is wintry chill. + + + +THE MOCK SELF + +Few friends are mine, though many wights there be +Who, meeting oft a phantasm that makes claim +To be myself, and hath my face and name, +And whose thin fraud I wink at privily, +Account this light impostor very me. +What boots it undeceive them, and proclaim +Myself myself, and whelm this cheat with shame? +I care not, so he leave my true self free, +Impose not on me also; but alas! +I too, at fault, bewildered, sometimes take +Him for myself, and far from mine own sight, +Torpid, indifferent, doth mine own self pass; +And yet anon leaps suddenly awake, +And spurns the gibbering mime into the night. + + + +"THY VOICE FROM INMOST DREAMLAND CALLS" + +Thy voice from inmost dreamland calls; + The wastes of sleep thou makest fair; +Bright o'er the ridge of darkness falls + The cataract of thy hair. + +The morn renews its golden birth: + Thou with the vanquished night dost fade; +And leav'st the ponderable earth + Less real than thy shade. + + + +IN LALEHAM CHURCHYARD + +(AUGUST 18, 1890) + +'Twas at this season, year by year, +The singer who lies songless here +Was wont to woo a less austere, + Less deep repose, +Where Rotha to Winandermere + Unresting flows,-- + +Flows through a land where torrents call +To far-off torrents as they fall, +And mountains in their cloudy pall + Keep ghostly state, +And Nature makes majestical + Man's lowliest fate. + +There, 'mid the August glow, still came +He of the twice-illustrious name, +The loud impertinence of fame + Not loth to flee-- +Not loth with brooks and fells to claim + Fraternity. + +Linked with his happy youthful lot, +Is Loughrigg, then, at last forgot? +Nor silent peak nor dalesman's cot + Looks on his grave. +Lulled by the Thames he sleeps, and not + By Rotha's wave. + +'Tis fittest thus! for though with skill +He sang of beck and tarn and ghyll, +The deep, authentic mountain-thrill + Ne'er shook his page! +Somewhat of worldling mingled still + With bard and sage. + +And 'twere less meet for him to lie +Guarded by summits lone and high +That traffic with the eternal sky + And hear, unawed, +The everlasting fingers ply + The loom of God, + +Than, in this hamlet of the plain, +A less sublime repose to gain, +Where Nature, genial and urbane, + To man defers, +Yielding to us the right to reign, + Which yet is hers. + +And nigh to where his bones abide, +The Thames with its unruffled tide +Seems like his genius typified,-- + Its strength, its grace, +Its lucid gleam, its sober pride, + Its tranquil pace. + +But ah! not his the eventual fate +Which doth the journeying wave await-- +Doomed to resign its limpid state + And quickly grow +Turbid as passion, dark as hate, + And wide as woe. + +Rather, it may be, over-much +He shunned the common stain and smutch, +From soilure of ignoble touch + Too grandly free, +Too loftily secure in such + Cold purity. + +But he preserved from chance control +The fortress of his 'stablisht soul; +In all things sought to see the Whole; + Brooked no disguise; +And set his heart upon the goal, + Not on the prize. + +With those Elect he shall survive +Who seem not to compete or strive, +Yet with the foremost still arrive, + Prevailing still: +Spirits with whom the stars connive + To work their will. + +And ye, the baffled many, who, +Dejected, from afar off view +The easily victorious few + Of calm renown,-- +Have ye not your sad glory too, + And mournful crown? + +Great is the facile conqueror; +Yet haply he, who, wounded sore, +Breathless, unhorsed, all covered o'er + With blood and sweat, +Sinks foiled, but fighting evermore,-- + Is greater yet. + + + +THE FLIGHT OF YOUTH + +Youth! ere thou be flown away. +Surely one last boon to-day + Thou'lt bestow-- +One last light of rapture give, +Rich and lordly fugitive! + Ere thou go. + +What, thou canst not? What, all spent? +All thy spells of ravishment + Pow'rless now? +Gone thy magic out of date? +Gone, all gone that made thee great?-- + Follow thou! + + + +"NAY, BID ME NOT MY CARES TO LEAVE" + +Nay, bid me not my cares to leave, + Who cannot from their shadow flee. +I do but win a short reprieve, + 'Scaping to pleasure and to thee. + +I may, at best, a moment's grace, + And grant of liberty, obtain; +Respited for a little space, + To go back into bonds again. + + + +A CHILD'S HAIR + +A letter from abroad. I tear +Its sheathing open, unaware +What treasure gleams within; and there-- + Like bird from cage-- +Flutters a curl of golden hair + Out of the page. + +From such a frolic head 'twas shorn! +('Tis but five years since he was born.) +Not sunlight scampering over corn + Were merrier thing. +A child? A fragment of the morn, + A piece of Spring! + +Surely an ampler, fuller day +Than drapes our English skies with grey-- +A deeper light, a richer ray + Than here we know-- +To this bright tress have given away + Their living glow. + +For Willie dwells where gentian flowers +Make mimic sky in mountain bowers; +And vineyards steeped in ardent hours + Slope to the wave +Where storied Chillon's tragic towers + Their bases lave; + +And over piny tracts of Vaud +The rose of eve steals up the snow; +And on the waters far below + Strange sails like wings +Half-bodilessly come and go, + Fantastic things; + +And tender night falls like a sigh +On _châlet_ low and _château_ high; +And the far cataract's voice comes nigh, + Where no man hears; +And spectral peaks impale the sky + On silver spears. + +Ah, Willie, whose dissevered tress +Lies in my hand!--may you possess +At least one sovereign happiness, + Ev'n to your grave; +One boon than which I ask naught less, + Naught greater crave: + +May cloud and mountain, lake and vale, +Never to you be trite or stale +As unto souls whose wellsprings fail + Or flow defiled, +Till Nature's happiest fairy-tale + Charms not her child! + +For when the spirit waxes numb, +Alien and strange these shows become, +And stricken with life's tedium + The streams run dry, +The choric spheres themselves are dumb, + And dead the sky,-- + +Dead as to captives grown supine, +Chained to their task in sightless mine: +Above, the bland day smiles benign, + Birds carol free, +In thunderous throes of life divine + Leaps the glad sea; + +But they--their day and night are one. +What is't to them, that rivulets run, +Or what concern of theirs the sun? + It seems as though +Their business with these things was done + Ages ago: + +Only, at times, each dulled heart feels +That somewhere, sealed with hopeless seals, +The unmeaning heaven about him reels, + And he lies hurled +Beyond the roar of all the wheels + Of all the world. + + * * * * * + +On what strange track one's fancies fare! +To eyeless night in sunless lair +'Tis a far cry from Willie's hair; + And here it lies-- +Human, yet something which can ne'er + Grow sad and wise: + +Which, when the head where late it lay +In life's grey dusk itself is grey, +And when the curfew of life's day + By death is tolled, +Shall forfeit not the auroral ray + And eastern gold. + + + +THE KEY-BOARD + +Five-and-thirty black slaves, + Half-a-hundred white, +All their duty but to sing + For their Queen's delight, +Now with throats of thunder, + Now with dulcet lips, +While she rules them royally + With her finger-tips! + +When she quits her palace, + All the slaves are dumb-- +Dumb with dolour till the Queen + Back to Court is come: +Dumb the throats of thunder, + Dumb the dulcet lips, +Lacking all the sovereignty + Of her finger-tips. + +Dusky slaves and pallid, + Ebon slaves and white, +When the Queen was on her throne + How you sang to-night! +Ah, the throats of thunder! + Ah, the dulcet lips! +Ah, the gracious tyrannies + Of her finger-tips! + +Silent, silent, silent, + All your voices now; +Was it then her life alone + Did your life endow? +Waken, throats of thunder! + Waken, dulcet lips! +Touched to immortality + By her finger-tips. + + + +"SCENTLESS FLOW'RS I BRING THEE" + +Scentless flow'rs I bring thee--yet +In thy bosom be they set; +In thy bosom each one grows +Fragrant beyond any rose. + +Sweet enough were she who could, +In thy heart's sweet neighbourhood, +Some redundant sweetness thus +Borrow from that overplus. + + + +ON LANDOR'S "HELLENICS" + +Come hither, who grow cloyed to surfeiting +With lyric draughts o'ersweet, from rills that rise +On Hybla not Parnassus mountain: come +With beakers rinsed of the dulcifluous wave +Hither, and see a magic miracle +Of happiest science, the bland Attic skies +True-mirrored by an English well;--no stream +Whose heaven-belying surface makes the stars +Reel, with its restless idiosyncrasy; +But well unstirred, save when at times it takes +Tribute of lover's eyelids, and at times +Bubbles with laughter of some sprite below. + + + +TO ---- + +(WITH A VOLUME OF EPIGRAMS) + +Unto the Lady of The Nook + Fly, tiny book. +There thou hast lovers--even thou! + Fly thither now. + +Seven years hast thou for honour yearned, + And scant praise earned; +But ah! to win, at last, _such_ friends, + Is full amends. + + + +ON EXAGGERATED DEFERENCE TO +FOREIGN LITERARY OPINION + +What! and shall _we_, with such submissive airs +As age demands in reverence from the young, +Await these crumbs of praise from Europe flung, +And doubt of our own greatness till it bears +The signet of your Goethes or Voltaires? +We who alone in latter times have sung +With scarce less power than Arno's exiled tongue-- +We who are Milton's kindred, Shakespeare's heirs. +The prize of lyric victory who shall gain +If ours be not the laurel, ours the palm? +More than the froth and flotsam of the Seine, +More than your Hugo-flare against the night, +And more than Weimar's proud elaborate calm, +One flash of Byron's lightning, Wordsworth's light. + + + +ENGLAND TO IRELAND + +(FEBRUARY 1888) + +Spouse whom my sword in the olden time won me, + Winning me hatred more sharp than a sword-- +Mother of children who hiss at or shun me, + Curse or revile me, and hold me abhorred-- +Heiress of anger that nothing assuages, + Mad for the future, and mad from the past-- +Daughter of all the implacable ages, + Lo, let us turn and be lovers at last! + +Lovers whom tragical sin hath made equal, + One in transgression and one in remorse. +Bonds may be severed, but what were the sequel? + Hardly shall amity come of divorce. +Let the dead Past have a royal entombing, + O'er it the Future built white for a fane! +I that am haughty from much overcoming + Sue to thee, supplicate--nay, is it vain? + +Hate and mistrust are the children of blindness,-- + Could we but see one another, 'twere well! +Knowledge is sympathy, charity, kindness, + Ignorance only is maker of hell. +Could we but gaze for an hour, for a minute, + Deep in each other's unfaltering eyes, +Love were begun--for that look would begin it-- + Born in the flash of a mighty surprise. + +Then should the ominous night-bird of Error, + Scared by a sudden irruption of day, +Flap his maleficent wings, and in terror + Flit to the wilderness, dropping his prey. +Then should we, growing in strength and in sweetness, + Fusing to one indivisible soul, +Dazzle the world with a splendid completeness, + Mightily single, immovably whole. + +Thou, like a flame when the stormy winds fan it, + I, like a rock to the elements bare,-- +Mixed by love's magic, the fire and the granite, + Who should compete with us, what should compare? +Strong with a strength that no fate might dissever, + One with a oneness no force could divide, +So were we married and mingled for ever, + Lover with lover, and bridegroom with bride. + + + +MENSIS LACRIMARUM + +(MARCH 1885) + +March, that comes roaring, maned, with rampant paws, + And bleatingly withdraws; +March,--'tis the year's fantastic nondescript, + That, born when frost hath nipped +The shivering fields, or tempest scarred the hills, + Dies crowned with daffodils. +The month of the renewal of the earth + By mingled death and birth: +But, England! in this latest of thy years + Call it--the Month of Tears. + + + +"UNDER THE DARK AND PINY STEEP" + +Under the dark and piny steep + We watched the storm crash by: +We saw the bright brand leap and leap + Out of the shattered sky. + +The elements were minist'ring + To make one mortal blest; +For, peal by peal, you did but cling + The closer to his breast. + + + +THE BLIND SUMMIT + +[A Viennese gentleman, who had climbed the Hoch-König +without a guide, was found dead, in a sitting posture, near the +summit, upon which he had written, "It is cold, and clouds shut +out the view."--_Vide_ the _Daily News_ of September 10, 1891.] + +So mounts the child of ages of desire, +Man, up the steeps of Thought; and would behold +Yet purer peaks, touched with unearthlier fire, +In sudden prospect virginally new; +But on the lone last height he sighs: "'Tis cold, + And clouds shut out the view." + +Ah, doom of mortals! Vexed with phantoms old, +Old phantoms that waylay us and pursue,-- +Weary of dreams,--we think to see unfold +The eternal landscape of the Real and True; +And on our Pisgah can but write: "'Tis cold, + And clouds shut out the view." + + + +TO LORD TENNYSON + +(WITH A VOLUME OF VERSE) + +Master and mage, our prince of song, whom Time, + In this your autumn mellow and serene, + Crowns ever with fresh laurels, nor less green +Than garlands dewy from your verdurous prime; +Heir of the riches of the whole world's rhyme, + Dow'r'd with the Doric grace, the Mantuan mien, + With Arno's depth and Avon's golden sheen; +Singer to whom the singing ages climb, +Convergent;--if the youngest of the choir + May snatch a flying splendour from your name +Making his page illustrious, and aspire + For one rich moment your regard to claim, +Suffer him at your feet to lay his lyre + And touch the skirts and fringes of your fame. + + + +SKETCH OF A POLITICAL CHARACTER + +(1885) + + There is a race of men, who master life, +Their victory being inversely as their strife; +Who capture by refraining from pursuit; +Shake not the bough, yet load their hands with fruit; +The earth's high places who attain to fill, +By most indomitably sitting still. +While others, full upon the fortress hurled, +Lay fiery siege to the embattled world, +Of such rude arts _their_ natures feel no need; +Greatly inert, they lazily succeed; +Find in the golden mean their proper bliss, +And doing nothing, never do amiss; +But lapt in men's good graces live, and die +By all regretted, nobody knows why. + + Cast in this fortunate Olympian mould, +The admirable * * * * behold; +Whom naught could dazzle or mislead, unless +'Twere the wild light of fatal cautiousness; +Who never takes a step from his own door +But he looks backward ere he looks before. +When once he starts, it were too much to say +He visibly gets farther on his way: +But all allow, he ponders well his course-- +For future uses hoarding present force. +The flippant deem him slow and saturnine, +The summed-up phlegm of that illustrious line; +But we, his honest adversaries, who +More highly prize him than his false friends do, +Frankly admire that simple mass and weight-- +A solid Roman pillar of the State, +So inharmonious with the baser style +Of neighbouring columns grafted on the pile, +So proud and imperturbable and chill, +Chosen and matched so excellently ill, +He seems a monument of pensive grace, +Ah, how pathetically out of place! + + Would that some call he could not choose but heed-- +Of private passion or of public need-- +At last might sting to life that slothful power, +And snare him into greatness for an hour! + + + +ART MAXIMS + +Often ornateness +Goes with greatness; +Oftener felicity +Comes of simplicity. + +Talent that's cheapest +Affects singularity. +Thoughts that dive deepest +Rise radiant in clarity. + +Life is rough: +Sing smoothly, O Bard. +Enough, enough, +To have _found_ life hard. + +No record Art keeps +Of her travail and throes. +There is toil on the steeps,-- +On the summits, repose. + + + +THE GLIMPSE + +Just for a day you crossed my life's dull track, + Put my ignobler dreams to sudden shame, +Went your bright way, and left me to fall back + On my own world of poorer deed and aim; + +To fall back on my meaner world, and feel + Like one who, dwelling 'mid some, smoke-dimmed town,-- +In a brief pause of labour's sullen wheel,-- + 'Scaped from the street's dead dust and factory's frown,-- + +In stainless daylight saw the pure seas roll, + Saw mountains pillaring the perfect sky: +Then journeyed home, to carry in his soul + The torment of the difference till he die. + + + +THE BALLAD OF THE "BRITAIN'S PRIDE" + +It was a skipper of Lowestoft + That trawled the northern sea, +In a smack of thrice ten tons and seven, + And the _Britain's Pride_ was she. +And the waves were high to windward, + And the waves were high to lee, +And he said as he lost his trawl-net, + "What is to be, will be." + +His craft she reeled and staggered, + But he headed her for the hithe, +In a storm that threatened to mow her down + As grass is mown by the scythe; +When suddenly through the cloud-rift + The moon came sailing soft, +And he saw one mast of a sunken ship + Like a dead arm held aloft. + +And a voice came faint from the rigging-- + "Help! help!" it whispered and sighed-- +And a single form to the sole mast clung, + In the roaring darkness wide. +Oh the crew were but four hands all told, + On board of the _Britain's Pride_, +And ever "Hold on till daybreak!" + Across the night they cried. + +Slowly melted the darkness, + Slowly rose the sun, +And only the lad in the rigging + Was left, out of thirty-one, +To tell the tale of his captain, + The English sailor true, +That did his duty and met his death + As English sailors do. + +Peace to the gallant spirit, + The greatly proved and tried, +And to all who have fed the hungry sea + That is still unsatisfied; +And honour and glory for ever, + While rolls the unresting tide, +To the skipper of little Lowestoft, + And the crew of the _Britain's Pride_. + + + +LINES + +(WITH A VOLUME OF THE AUTHOR'S POEMS SENT TO M.R.C.) + +Go, Verse, nor let the grass of tarrying grow +Beneath thy feet iambic. Southward go +O'er Thamesis his stream, nor halt until +Thou reach the summit of a suburb hill +To lettered fame not unfamiliar: there +Crave rest and shelter of a scholiast fair, +Who dwelleth in a world of old romance, +Magic emprise and faery chevisaunce. +Tell her, that he who made thee, years ago, +By northern stream and mountain, and where blow +Great breaths from the sea-sunset, at this day +One half thy fabric fain would rase away; +But she must take thee faults and all, my Verse, +Forgive thy better and forget thy worse. +Thee, doubtless, she shall place, not scorned, among +More famous songs by happier minstrels sung;-- +In Shakespeare's shadow thou shalt find a home, +Shalt house with melodists of Greece and Rome, +Or awed by Dante's wintry presence be, +Or won by Goethe's regal suavity, +Or with those masters hardly less adored +Repose, of Rydal and of Farringford; +And--like a mortal rapt from men's abodes +Into some skyey fastness of the gods-- +Divinely neighboured, thou in such a shrine +Mayst for a moment dream thyself divine. + + + +THE RAVEN'S SHADOW + +Seabird, elemental sprite, + Moulded of the sun and spray-- +Raven, dreary flake of night + Drifting in the eye of day-- +What in common have ye two, +Meeting 'twixt the blue and blue? + +Thou to eastward carriest + The keen savour of the foam,-- +Thou dost bear unto the west + Fragrance from thy woody home, +Where perchance a house is thine +Odorous of the oozy pine. + +Eastward thee thy proper cares, + Things of mighty moment, call; +Thee to westward thine affairs + Summon, weighty matters all: +I, where land and sea contest, +Watch you eastward, watch you west, + +Till, in snares of fancy caught, + Mystically changed ye seem, +And the bird becomes a thought, + And the thought becomes a dream, +And the dream, outspread on high, +Lords it o'er the abject sky. + +Surely I have known before + Phantoms of the shapes ye be-- +Haunters of another shore + 'Leaguered by another sea. +There my wanderings night and morn +Reconcile me to the bourn. + +There the bird of happy wings + Wafts the ocean-news I crave; +Rumours of an isle he brings + Gemlike on the golden wave: +But the baleful beak and plume +Scatter immelodious gloom. + +Though the flow'rs be faultless made, + Perfectly to live and die-- +Though the bright clouds bloom and fade + Flow'rlike 'midst a meadowy sky-- +Where this raven roams forlorn +Veins of midnight flaw the morn. + +He not less will croak and croak + As he ever caws and caws, +Till the starry dance he broke, + Till the sphery pæan pause, +And the universal chime +Falter out of tune and time. + +Coils the labyrinthine sea + Duteous to the lunar will, +But some discord stealthily + Vexes the world-ditty still, +And the bird that caws and caws +Clasps creation with his claws. + + + +LUX PERDITA + + Thine were the weak, slight hands +That might have taken this strong soul, and bent +Its stubborn substance to thy soft intent, +And bound it unresisting, with such bands +As not the arm of envious heaven had rent. + + Thine were the calming eyes +That round my pinnace could have stilled the sea, +And drawn thy voyager home, and bid him be +Pure with their pureness, with their wisdom wise, +Merged in their light, and greatly lost in thee. + + But thou--thou passed'st on, +With whiteness clothed of dedicated days, +Cold, like a star; and me in alien ways +Thou leftest following life's chance lure, where shone +The wandering gleam that beckons and betrays. + + + +ENGLAND AND HER COLONIES + +She stands, a thousand-wintered tree, + By countless morns impearled; +Her broad roots coil beneath the sea, + Her branches sweep the world; +Her seeds, by careless winds conveyed, + Clothe the remotest strand +With forests from her scatterings made, +New nations fostered in her shade, + And linking land with land. + +O ye by wandering tempest sown + 'Neath every alien star, +Forget not whence the breath was blown + That wafted you afar! +For ye are still her ancient seed + On younger soil let fall-- +Children of Britain's island-breed, +To whom the Mother in her need + Perchance may one day call. + + + +HISTORY + +Here, peradventure, in this mirror glassed, +Who gazes long and well at times beholds +Some sunken feature of the mummied Past, +But oftener only the embroidered folds +And soiled magnificence of her rent robe +Whose tattered skirts are ruined dynasties +That sweep the dust of æons in our eyes +And with their trailing pride cumber the globe.-- +For lo! the high, imperial Past is dead: +The air is full of its dissolvèd bones; +Invincible armies long since vanquishèd, +Kings that remember not their awful thrones, +Powerless potentates and foolish sages, +Impede the slow steps of the pompous ages. + + + +THE EMPTY NEST + +I saunter all about the pleasant place + You made thrice pleasant, O my friends, to me; +But you are gone where laughs in radiant grace + That thousand-memoried unimpulsive sea. +To storied precincts of the southern foam, + Dear birds of passage, ye have taken wing, +And ah! for me, when April wafts you home, + The spring will more than ever be the spring +Still lovely, as of old, this haunted ground; + Tenderly, still, the autumn sunshine falls; +And gorgeously the woodlands tower around, + Freak'd with wild light at golden intervals: +Yet, for the ache your absence leaves, O friends, +Earth's lifeless pageantries are poor amends. + + + +IRELAND + +(DECEMBER 1, 1890) + +In the wild and lurid desert, in the thunder-travelled ways, +'Neath the night that ever hurries to the dawn that still delays, +There she clutches at illusions, and she seeks a phantom goal +With the unattaining passion that consumes the unsleeping soul: +And calamity enfolds her, like the shadow of a ban, +And the niggardness of Nature makes the misery of man: +And in vain the hand is stretched to lift her, stumbling in the gloom, +While she follows the mad fen-fire that conducts her to her doom. + + + +THE LUTE-PLAYER + +She was a lady great and splendid, + I was a minstrel in her halls. +A warrior like a prince attended + Stayed his steed by the castle walls. + +Far had he fared to gaze upon her. + "O rest thee now, Sir Knight," she said. +The warrior wooed, the warrior won her, + In time of snowdrops they were wed. +I made sweet music in his honour, + And longed to strike him dead. + +I passed at midnight from her portal, + Throughout the world till death I rove: +Ah, let me make this lute immortal + With rapture of my hate and love! + + + +"AND THESE--ARE THESE INDEED THE END" + +And these--are these indeed the end, + This grinning skull, this heavy loam? +Do all green ways whereby we wend + Lead but to yon ignoble home? + +Ah well! Thine eyes invite to bliss; + Thy lips are hives of summer still. +I ask not other worlds while this + Proffers me all the sweets I will. + + + +THE RUSS AT KARA + +O King of kings, that watching from Thy throne + Sufferest the monster of Ust-Kara's hold, + With bosom than Siberia's wastes more cold, +And hear'st the wail of captives crushed and prone, +And sett'st no sign in heaven! Shall naught atone + For their wild pangs whose tale is yet scarce told, + Women by uttermost woe made deadly bold, +In the far dungeon's night that hid their moan? +Why waits Thy shattering arm, nor smites this Power + Whose beak and talons rend the unshielded breast, + Whose wings shed terror and a plague of gloom, + Whose ravin is the hearts of the oppressed; +Whose brood are hell-births--Hate that bides its hour, + Wrath, and a people's curse that loathe their doom? + + + +LIBERTY REJECTED + +About this heart thou hast + Thy chains made fast, +And think'st thou I would be + Therefrom set free, +And forth unbound be cast? + +The ocean would as soon + Entreat the moon +Unsay the magic verse + That seals him hers +From silver noon to noon. + +She stooped her pearly head + Seaward, and said: +"Would'st thou I gave to thee + Thy liberty, +In Time's youth forfeited?" + +And from his inmost hold + The answer rolled: +"Thy bondman to remain + Is sweeter pain, +Dearer an hundredfold." + + + +LIFE WITHOUT HEALTH + +Behold life builded as a goodly house +And grown a mansion ruinous +With winter blowing through its crumbling walls! +The master paceth up and down his halls, +And in the empty hours +Can hear the tottering of his towers +And tremor of their bases underground. +And oft he starts and looks around +At creaking of a distant door +Or echo of his footfall on the floor, +Thinking it may be one whom he awaits +And hath for many days awaited, +Coming to lead him through the mouldering gates +Out somewhere, from his home dilapidated. + + + +TO A FRIEND + +CHAFING AT ENFORCED IDLENESS FROM INTERRUPTED HEALTH + +Soon may the edict lapse, that on you lays +This dire compulsion of infertile days, +This hardest penal toil, reluctant rest! +Meanwhile I count you eminently blest, +Happy from labours heretofore well done, +Happy in tasks auspiciously begun. +For they are blest that have not much to rue-- +That have not oft mis-heard the prompter's cue, +Stammered and stumbled and the wrong parts played, +And life a Tragedy of Errors made. + + + +"WELL HE SLUMBERS, GREATLY SLAIN" + +Well he slumbers, greatly slain, + Who in splendid battle dies; +Deep his sleep in midmost main + Pillowed upon pearl who lies. + +Ease, of all good gifts the best, + War and wave at last decree: +Love alone denies us rest, + Crueller than sword or sea. + + + +AN EPISTLE + +(To N.A.) + +So, into Cornwall you go down, +And leave me loitering here in town. +For me, the ebb of London's wave, +Not ocean-thunder in Cornish cave. +My friends (save only one or two) +Gone to the glistening marge, like you,-- +The opera season with blare and din +Dying sublime in _Lohengrin_,-- +Houses darkened, whose blinded panes +All thoughts, save of the dead, preclude,-- +The parks a puddle of tropic rains,-- +Clubland a pensive solitude,-- +For me, now you and yours are flown, +The fellowship of books alone! + + For you, the snaky wave, upflung +With writhing head and hissing tongue; +The weed whose tangled fibres tell +Of some inviolate deep-sea dell; +The faultless, secret-chambered shell, +Whose sound is an epitome +Of all the utterance of the sea; +Great, basking, twinkling wastes of brine; +Far clouds of gulls that wheel and swerve +In unanimity divine, +With undulation serpentine, +And wondrous, consentaneous curve, +Flashing in sudden silver sheen, +Then melting on the sky-line keen; +The world-forgotten coves that seem +Lapt in some magic old sea-dream, +Where, shivering off the milk-white foam, +Lost airs wander, seeking home, +And into clefts and caverns peep, +Fissures paven with powdered shell, +Recesses of primeval sleep, +Tranced with an immemorial spell; +The granite fangs eternally +Rending the blanch'd lips of the sea; +The breaker clutching land, then hurled +Back on its own tormented world; +The mountainous upthunderings, +The glorious energy of things, +The power, the joy, the cosmic thrill, +Earth's ecstasy made visible, +World-rapture old as Night and new +As sunrise;--this, all this, for you! + + So, by Atlantic breezes fanned, +You roam the limits of the land, +And I in London's world abide, +Poor flotsam on the human tide!-- +Nay, rather, isled amid the stream-- +Watching the flood--and, half in dream +Guessing the sources whence it rose, +And musing to what Deep it flows. + + For still the ancient riddles mar +Our joy in man, in leaf, in star. +The Whence and Whither give no rest, +The Wherefore is a hopeless quest; +And the dull wight who never thinks,-- +Who, chancing on the sleeping Sphinx, +Passes unchallenged,--fares the best! + + But ill it suits this random verse +The high enigmas to rehearse, +And touch with desultory tongue +Secrets no man from Night hath wrung. +We ponder, question, doubt--and pray +The Deep to answer Yea or Nay; +And what does the engirdling wave, +The undivulging, yield us, save +Aspersion of bewildering spray? +We do but dally on the beach, +Writing our little thoughts full large, +While Ocean with imperious speech +Derides us trifling by the marge. +Nay, we are children, who all day +Beside the unknown waters play, +And dig with small toy-spade the sand, +Thinking our trenches wondrous deep, +Till twilight falls, and hand-in-hand +Nurse takes us home, well tired, to sleep; +Sleep, and forget our toys, and be +Lulled by the great unsleeping sea. + + Enough!--to Cornwall you go down, +And I tag rhymes in London town. + + + +TO AUSTIN DOBSON + +Yes! urban is your Muse, and owns +An empire based on London stones; +Yet flow'rs, as mountain violets sweet, +Spring from the pavement 'neath her feet. + +Of wilder birth this Muse of mine, +Hill-cradled, and baptized with brine; +And 'tis for her a sweet despair +To watch that courtly step and air! + +Yet surely she, without reproof, +Greeting may send from realms aloof, +And even claim a tie in blood, +And dare to deem it sisterhood. + +For well we know, those Maidens be +All daughters of Mnemosyne; +And 'neath the unifying sun, +Many the songs--but Song is one. + + + +TO EDWARD CLODD + +Friend, in whose friendship I am twice well-starred, + A debt not time may cancel is your due; + For was it not your praise that earliest drew, +On me obscure, that chivalrous regard, +Ev'n his, who, knowing fame's first steep how hard, + With generous lips no faltering clarion blew, + Bidding men hearken to a lyre by few +Heeded, nor grudge the bay to one more bard? +Bitter the task, year by inglorious year, +Of suitor at the world's reluctant ear. + One cannot sing for ever, like a bird, +For sole delight of singing! Him his mate +Suffices, listening with a heart elate; + Nor more his joy, if all the rapt heav'n heard. + + + +TO EDWARD DOWDEN + +ON RECEIVING FROM HIM A COPY OF "THE LIFE OF SHELLEY" + +First, ere I slake my hunger, let me thank +The giver of the feast. For feast it is, +Though of ethereal, translunary fare-- +His story who pre-eminently of men +Seemed nourished upon starbeams and the stuff +Of rainbows, and the tempest, and the foam; +Who hardly brooked on his impatient soul +The fleshly trammels; whom at last the sea +Gave to the fire, from whose wild arms the winds +Took him, and shook him broadcast to the world. +In my young days of fervid poesy +He drew me to him with his strange far light,-- +He held me in a world all clouds and gleams, +And vasty phantoms, where ev'n Man himself +Moved like a phantom 'mid the clouds and gleams. +Anon the Earth recalled me, and a voice +Murmuring of dethroned divinities +And dead times deathless upon sculptured urn-- +And Philomela's long-descended pain +Flooding the night--and maidens of romance +To whom asleep St. Agnes' love-dreams come-- +Awhile constrained me to a sweet duresse +And thraldom, lapping me in high content, +Soft as the bondage of white amorous arms. +And then a third voice, long unheeded--held +Claustral and cold, and dissonant and tame-- +Found me at last with ears to hear. It sang +Of lowly sorrows and familiar joys, +Of simple manhood, artless womanhood, +And childhood fragrant as the limpid morn; +And from the homely matter nigh at hand +Ascending and dilating, it disclosed +Spaces and avenues, calm heights and breadths +Of vision, whence I saw each blade of grass +With roots that groped about eternity, +And in each drop of dew upon each blade +The mirror of the inseparable All. +The first voice, then the second, in their turns +Had sung me captive. This voice sang me free. +Therefore, above all vocal sons of men, +Since him whose sightless eyes saw hell and heaven, +To Wordsworth be my homage, thanks, and love. +Yet dear is Keats, a lucid presence, great +With somewhat of a glorious soullessness. +And dear, and great with an excess of soul, +Shelley, the hectic flamelike rose of verse, +All colour, and all odour, and all bloom, +Steeped in the noonlight, glutted with the sun, +But somewhat lacking root in homely earth, +Lacking such human moisture as bedews +His not less starward stem of song, who, rapt +Not less in glowing vision, yet retained +His clasp of the prehensible, retained +The warm touch of the world that lies to hand, +Not in vague dreams of man forgetting men, +Nor in vast morrows losing the to-day; +Who trusted nature, trusted fate, nor found +An Ogre, sovereign on the throne of things; +Who felt the incumbence of the unknown, yet bore +Without resentment the Divine reserve; +Who suffered not his spirit to dash itself +Against the crags and wavelike break in spray, +But 'midst the infinite tranquillities +Moved tranquil, and henceforth, by Rotha stream +And Rydal's mountain-mirror, and where flows +Yarrow thrice sung or Duddon to the sea, +And wheresoe'er man's heart is thrilled by tones +Struck from man's lyric heartstrings, shall survive. + + + +FELICITY + +A squalid, hideous town, where streams run black +With vomit of a hundred roaring mills,-- +Hither occasion calls me; and ev'n here, +All in the sable reek that wantonly +Defames the sunlight and deflowers the morn, +One may at least surmise the sky still blue. +Ev'n here, the myriad slaves of the machine +Deem life a boon; and here, in days far sped, +I overheard a kind-eyed girl relate +To her companions, how a favouring chance +By some few shillings weekly had increased +The earnings of her household, and she said: +"So now we are happy, having all we wished,"-- +Felicity indeed! though more it lay +In wanting little than in winning all. + +Felicity indeed! Across the years +To me her tones come back, rebuking; me, +Spreader of toils to snare the wandering Joy +No guile may capture and no force surprise-- +Only by them that never wooed her, won. + +O curst with wide desires and spacious dreams, +Too cunningly do ye accumulate +Appliances and means of happiness, +E'er to be happy! Lavish hosts, ye make +Elaborate preparation to receive +A shy and simple guest, who, warned of all +The ceremony and circumstance wherewith +Ye mean to entertain her, will not come. + + + +VER TENEBROSUM + +SONNETS OF MARCH AND APRIL 1885 + + +I + +THE SOUDANESE + +They wrong'd not us, nor sought 'gainst us to wage +The bitter battle. On their God they cried +For succour, deeming justice to abide +In heaven, if banish'd from earth's vicinage. +And when they rose with a gall'd lion's rage, +We, on the captor's, keeper's, tamer's side, +We, with the alien tyranny allied, +We bade them back to their Egyptian cage. +Scarce knew they who we were! A wind of blight +From the mysterious far north-west we came. +Our greatness now their veriest babes have learn'd, +Where, in wild desert homes, by day, by night, +Thousands that weep their warriors unreturn'd, +O England, O my country, curse thy name! + + +II + +HASHEEN + +"Of British arms, another victory!" +Triumphant words, through all the land's length sped. +Triumphant words, but, being interpreted, +Words of ill sound, woful as words can be. +Another carnage by the drear Red Sea-- +Another efflux of a sea more red! +Another bruising of the hapless head +Of a wrong'd people yearning to be free. +Another blot on her great name, who stands +Confounded, left intolerably alone +With the dilating spectre of her own +Dark sin, uprisen from yonder spectral sands: +Penitent more than to herself is known; +England, appall'd by her own crimson hands. + + +III + +THE ENGLISH DEAD + +Give honour to our heroes fall'n, how ill +Soe'er the cause that bade them forth to die. +Honour to him, the untimely struck, whom high +In place, more high in hope, 'twas fate's harsh will +With tedious pain unsplendidly to kill. +Honour to him, doom'd splendidly to die, +Child of the city whose foster-child am I, +Who, hotly leading up the ensanguin'd hill +His charging thousand, fell without a word-- +Fell, but shall fall not from our memory. +Also for them let honour's voice be heard +Who nameless sleep, while dull time covereth +With no illustrious shade of laurel tree, +But with the poppy alone, their deeds and death. + + +IV + +GORDON + +Idle although our homage be and vain, +Who loudly through the door of silence press +And vie in zeal to crown death's nakedness, +Not therefore shall melodious lips refrain +Thy praises, gentlest warrior without stain, +Denied the happy garland of success, +Foil'd by dark fate, but glorious none the less, +Greatest of losers, on the lone peak slain +Of Alp-like virtue. Not to-day, and not +To-morrow, shall thy spirit's splendour be +Oblivion's victim; but when God shall find +All human grandeur among men forgot, +Then only shall the world, grown old and blind, +Cease, in her dotage, to remember Thee. + + +V + +GORDON _(concluded)_ + +Arab, Egyptian, English--by the sword +Cloven, or pierced with spears, or bullet-mown-- +In equal fate they sleep: their dust is grown +A portion of the fiery sands abhorred. +And thou, what hast thou, hero, for reward, +Thou, England's glory and her shame? O'erthrown +Thou liest, unburied, or with grave unknown +As his to whom on Nebo's height the Lord +Showed all the land of Gilead, unto Dan; +Judah sea-fringed; Manasseh and Ephraim; +And Jericho palmy, to where Zoar lay; +And in a valley of Moab buried him, +Over against Beth-Peor, but no man +Knows of his sepulchre unto this day. + + +VI + +THE TRUE PATRIOTISM + +The ever-lustrous name of patriot +To no man be denied because he saw +Where in his country's wholeness lay the flaw, +Where, on her whiteness, the unseemly blot. +England! thy loyal sons condemn thee.--What! +Shall we be meek who from thine own breasts draw +Our fierceness? Not ev'n _thou_ shalt overawe +Us thy proud children nowise basely got. +Be this the measure of our loyalty-- +To feel thee noble and weep thy lapse the more. +This truth by thy true servants is confess'd-- +Thy sins, who love thee most, do most deplore. +Know thou thy faithful! Best they honour thee +Who honour in thee only what is best. + + +VII + +RESTORED ALLEGIANCE + +Dark is thy trespass, deep be thy remorse, +O England! Fittingly thine own feet bleed, +Submissive to the purblind guides that lead +Thy weary steps along this rugged course. +Yet ... when I glance abroad, and track the source +More selfish far, of other nations' deed, +And mark their tortuous craft, their jealous greed, +Their serpent-wisdom or mere soulless force, +Homeward returns my vagrant fealty, +Crying, "O England, shouldst thou one day fall, +Shatter'd in ruins by some Titan foe, +Justice were thenceforth weaker throughout all +The world, and Truth less passionately free, +And God the poorer for thine overthrow." + + +VIII + +THE POLITICAL LUMINARY + +A skilful leech, so long as we were whole: +Who scann'd the nation's every outward part, +But ah! misheard the beating of its heart. +Sire of huge sorrows, yet erect of soul. +Swift rider with calamity for goal, +Who, overtasking his equestrian art, +Unstall'd a steed full willing for the start, +But wondrous hard to curb or to control. +Sometimes we thought he led the people forth: +Anon he seemed to follow where they flew; +Lord of the golden tongue and smiting eyes; +Great out of season, and untimely wise: +A man whose virtue, genius, grandeur, worth +Wrought deadlier ill than ages can undo. + + +IX + +FOREIGN MENACE + +I marvel that this land, whereof I claim +The glory of sonship--for it _was_ erewhile +A glory to be sprung of Britain's isle, +Though now it well-nigh more resembles shame-- +I marvel that this land with heart so tame +Can brook the northern insolence and guile. +But most it angers me, to think how vile +Art thou, how base, from whom the insult came, +Unwieldly laggard, many an age behind +Thy sister Powers, in brain and conscience both; +In recognition of man's widening mind +And flexile adaptation to its growth: +Brute bulk, that bearest on thy back, half loth, +One wretched man, most pitied of mankind. + + +X + +HOME-ROOTEDNESS + +I cannot boast myself cosmopolite; +I own to "insularity," although +'Tis fall'n from fashion, as full well I know. +For somehow, being a plain and simple wight, +I am skin-deep a child of the new light, +But chiefly am mere Englishman below, +Of island-fostering; and can hate a foe, +And trust my kin before the Muscovite. +Whom shall I trust if not my kin? And whom +Account so near in natural bonds as these +Born of my mother England's mighty womb, +Nursed on my mother England's mighty knees, +And lull'd as I was lull'd in glory and gloom +With cradle-song of her protecting seas? + + +XI + +OUR EASTERN TREASURE + +In cobwebb'd corners dusty and dim I hear +A thin voice pipingly revived of late, +Which saith our India is a cumbrous weight, +An idle decoration, bought too dear. +The wiser world contemns not gorgeous gear; +Just pride is no mean factor in a State; +The sense of greatness keeps a nation great; +And mighty they who mighty can appear. +It may be that if hands of greed could steal +From England's grasp the envied orient prize, +This tide of gold would flood her still as now: +But were she the same England, made to feel +A brightness gone from out those starry eyes, +A splendour from that constellated brow? + + +XII + +REPORTED CONCESSIONS + +So we must palter, falter, cringe, and shrink, +And when the bully threatens, crouch or fly.-- +There are who tell me with a shuddering eye +That war's red cup is Satan's chosen drink. +Who shall gainsay them? Verily I do think +War is as hateful almost, and well-nigh +As ghastly, as this terrible Peace whereby +We halt for ever on the crater's brink +And feed the wind with phrases, while we know +There gapes at hand the infernal precipice +O'er which a gossamer bridge of words we throw, +Yet cannot choose but hear from the abyss +The sulphurous gloom's unfathomable hiss +And simmering lava's subterranean flow. + + +XIII + +NIGHTMARE + +(_Written during apparent imminence of war_) + +In a false dream I saw the Foe prevail. +The war was ended; the last smoke had rolled +Away: and we, erewhile the strong and bold, +Stood broken, humbled, withered, weak and pale, +And moan'd, "Our greatness is become a tale +To tell our children's babes when we are old. +They shall put by their playthings to be told +How England once, before the years of bale, +Throned above trembling, puissant, grandiose, calm, +Held Asia's richest jewel in her palm; +And with unnumbered isles barbaric, she +The broad hem of her glistering robe impearl'd; +Then, when she wound her arms about the world, +And had for vassal the obsequious sea." + + +XIV + +LAST WORD: TO THE COLONIES + +Brothers beyond the Atlantic's loud expanse; +And you that rear the innumerable fleece +Far southward 'mid the ocean named of peace; +Britons that past the Indian wave advance +Our name and spirit and world-predominance; +And you our kin that reap the earth's increase +Where crawls that long-backed mountain till it cease +Crown'd with the headland of bright esperance:-- +Remote compatriots wheresoe'er ye dwell, +By your prompt voices ringing clear and true +We know that with our England all is well: +Young is she yet, her world-task but begun! +By you we know her safe, and know by you +Her veins are million but her heart is one. + + + +EPIGRAMS + +'Tis human fortune's happiest height to be + A spirit melodious, lucid, poised, and whole; +Second in order of felicity + I hold it, to have walk'd with such a soul. + + * * * * * + +The statue--Buonarroti said--doth wait, +Thrall'd in the block, for me to emancipate. +The poem--saith the poet--wanders free +Till I betray it to captivity. + + * * * * * + +To keep in sight Perfection, and adore + The vision, is the artist's best delight; +His bitterest pang, that he can ne'er do more + Than keep her long'd-for loveliness in sight. + + * * * * * + +If Nature be a phantasm, as thou say'st, + A splendid fiction and prodigious dream, +To reach the real and true I'll make no haste, + More than content with worlds that only seem. + + * * * * * + +The Poet gathers fruit from every tree, +Yea, grapes from thorns and figs from thistles he. +Pluck'd by his hand, the basest weed that grows +Towers to a lily, reddens to a rose. + + * * * * * + +Brook, from whose bridge the wandering idler peers + To watch thy small fish dart or cool floor shine, +I would that bridge whose arches all are years + Spann'd not a less transparent wave than thine! + + * * * * * + +To Art we go as to a well, athirst, + And see our shadow 'gainst its mimic skies, +But in its depth must plunge and be immersed + To clasp the naiad Truth where low she lies. + + * * * * * + +In youth the artist voweth lover's vows +To Art, in manhood maketh her his spouse. +Well if her charms yet hold for him such joy +As when he craved some boon and she was coy! + + * * * * * + +Immured in sense, with fivefold bonds confined, + Rest we content if whispers from the stars +In waftings of the incalculable wind + Come blown at midnight through our prison-bars. + + * * * * * + +Love, like a bird, hath perch'd upon a spray + For thee and me to hearken what he sings. +Contented, he forgets to fly away; + But hush!... remind not Eros of his wings. + + * * * * * + +Think not thy wisdom can illume away +The ancient tanglement of night and day. +Enough, to acknowledge both, and both revere: +They see not clearliest who see all things clear. + + * * * * * + +In mid whirl of the dance of Time ye start, + Start at the cold touch of Eternity, +And cast your cloaks about you, and depart: + The minstrels pause not in their minstrelsy. + + * * * * * + +The beasts in field are glad, and have not wit + To know why leapt their hearts when springtime shone. +Man looks at his own bliss, considers it, + Weighs it with curious fingers; and 'tis gone. + + * * * * * + +Momentous to himself as I to me + Hath each man been that ever woman bore; +Once, in a lightning-flash of sympathy, + I _felt_ this truth, an instant, and no more. + + * * * * * + +The gods man makes he breaks; proclaims them each + Immortal, and himself outlives them all: +But whom he set not up he cannot reach + To shake His cloud-dark sun-bright pedestal. + + * * * * * + +The children romp within the graveyard's pale; +The lark sings o'er a madhouse, or a gaol;-- +Such nice antitheses of perfect poise +Chance in her curious rhetoric employs. + + * * * * * + +Our lithe thoughts gambol close to God's abyss, +Children whose home is by the precipice. +Fear not thy little ones shall o'er it fall: +Solid, though viewless, is the girdling wall. + + * * * * * + +Lives there whom pain hath evermore pass'd by +And Sorrow shunn'd with an averted eye? +Him do thou pity, him above the rest, +Him of all hapless mortals most unbless'd. + + * * * * * + +Say what thou wilt, the young are happy never. +Give me bless'd Age, beyond the fire and fever,-- +Past the delight that shatters, hope that stings, +And eager flutt'ring of life's ignorant wings. + + * * * * * + +Onward the chariot of the Untarrying moves; + Nor day divulges him nor night conceals; +Thou hear'st the echo of unreturning hooves + And thunder of irrevocable wheels. + + * * * * * + +A deft musician does the breeze become + Whenever an Æolian harp it finds: +Hornpipe and hurdygurdy both are dumb + Unto the most musicianly of winds. + + * * * * * + +I follow Beauty; of her train am I: + Beauty whose voice is earth and sea and air; +Who serveth, and her hands for all things ply; + Who reigneth, and her throne is everywhere. + + * * * * * + +Toiling and yearning, 'tis man's doom to see + No perfect creature fashion'd of his hands. +Insulted by a flower's immaculacy, + And mock'd at by the flawless stars he stands. + + * * * * * + +For metaphors of man we search the skies, + And find our allegory in all the air. +We gaze on Nature with Narcissus-eyes, +Enamour'd of our shadow everywhere. + + * * * * * + +One music maketh its occult abode + In all things scatter'd from great Beauty's hand; +And evermore the deepest words of God + Are yet the easiest to understand. + + * * * * * + +Enough of mournful melodies, my lute! +Be henceforth joyous, or be henceforth mute. +Song's breath is wasted when it does but fan +The smouldering infelicity of man. + + * * * * * + +I pluck'd this flower, O brighter flower, for thee, +There where the river dies into the sea. +To kiss it the wild west wind hath made free: +Kiss it thyself and give it back to me. + + * * * * * + +To be as this old elm full loth were I, + That shakes in the autumn storm its palsied head. +Hewn by the weird last woodman let me lie + Ere the path rustle with my foliage shed. + + * * * * * + +Ah, vain, thrice vain in the end, thy hate and rage, +And the shrill tempest of thy clamorous page. +True poets but transcendent lovers be, +And one great love-confession poesy. + + * * * * * + +His rhymes the poet flings at all men's feet, + And whoso will may trample on his rhymes. +Should Time let die a song that's true and sweet, + The singer's loss were more than match'd by Time's. + + * * * * * + +ON LONGFELLOW'S DEATH + +No puissant singer he, whose silence grieves + To-day the great West's tender heart and strong; +No singer vast of voice: yet one who leaves + His native air the sweeter for his song. + + * * * * * + +BYRON THE VOLUPTUARY + +Too avid of earth's bliss, he was of those + Whom Delight flies because they give her chase. +Only the odour of her wild hair blows + Back in their faces hungering for her face. + + * * * * * + +ANTONY AT ACTIUM + +He holds a dubious balance:--yet _that_ scale, +Whose freight the world is, surely shall prevail? +No; Cleopatra droppeth into _this_ +One counterpoising orient sultry kiss. + + * * * * * + +ART + +The thousand painful steps at last are trod, + At last the temple's difficult door we win; +But perfect on his pedestal, the god + Freezes us hopeless when we enter in. + + * * * * * + +KEATS + +He dwelt with the bright gods of elder time, + On earth and in their cloudy haunts above. +He loved them: and in recompense sublime, + The gods, alas! gave him their fatal love. + + * * * * * + +AFTER READING "TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT" + +Your Marlowe's page I close, my Shakspere's ope. + How welcome--after gong and cymbal's din-- +The continuity, the long slow slope + And vast curves of the gradual violin! + + * * * * * + +SHELLEY AND HARRIET WESTBROOK + +A star look'd down from heaven and loved a flower +Grown in earth's garden--loved it for an hour: + +Let eyes that trace his orbit in the spheres +Refuse not, to a ruin'd rosebud, tears. + + * * * * * + +THE PLAY OF "KING LEAR" + +Here Love the slain with Love the slayer lies; + Deep drown'd are both in the same sunless pool. +Up from its depths that mirror thundering skies + Bubbles the wan mirth of the mirthless Fool. + + * * * * + +TO A POET + +Time, the extortioner, from richest beauty +Takes heavy toll and wrings rapacious duty. +Austere of feature if thou carve thy rhyme, +Perchance 'twill pay the lesser tax to Time. + + * * * * * + +THE YEAR'S MINSTRELSY + +Spring, the low prelude of a lordlier song: + Summer, a music without hint of death: +Autumn, a cadence lingeringly long: + Winter, a pause;--the Minstrel-Year takes breath. + + * * * * * + +THE RUINED ABBEY + +Flower fondled, clasp'd in ivy's close caress, + It seems allied with Nature, yet apart:-- +Of wood's and wave's insensate loveliness + The glad, sad, tranquil, passionate, human heart. + + * * * * * + +MICHELANGELO'S "MOSES" + +The captain's might, and mystery of the seer-- + Remoteness of Jehovah's colloquist, +Nearness of man's heaven-advocate--are here: + Alone Mount Nebo's harsh foreshadow is miss'd. + + * * * * * + +THE ALPS + +Adieu, white brows of Europe! sovereign brows, + That wear the sunset for a golden tiar. +With me in memory shall your phantoms house + For ever, whiter than yourselves, and higher. + + * * * * * + +THE CATHEDRAL SPIRE + +It soars like hearts of hapless men who dare + To sue for gifts the gods refuse to allot; +Who climb for ever toward they know not where, + Baffled for ever by they know not what. + + * * * * * + +AN EPITAPH + +His friends he loved. His fellest earthly foes-- + Cats--I believe he did but feign to hate. +My hand will miss the insinuated nose, + Mine eyes the tail that wagg'd contempt at Fate. + + * * * * * + +THE METROPOLITAN UNDERGROUND RAILWAY + +Here were a goodly place wherein to die;-- + Grown latterly to sudden change averse, +All violent contrasts fain avoid would I + On passing from this world into a worse. + + * * * * * + +TO A SEABIRD + +Fain would I have thee barter fates with me,-- +Lone loiterer where the shells like jewels be, +Hung on the fringe and frayed hem of the sea. +But no,--'twere cruel, wild-wing'd Bliss! to thee. + + * * * * * + +ON DÃœRER'S _MELENCOLIA_ + +What holds her fixed far eyes nor lets them range? +Not the strange sea, strange earth, or heav'n more strange; +But her own phantom dwarfing these great three, +More strange than all, more old than heav'n, earth, sea. + + * * * * * + +TANTALUS + +He wooes for ever, with foil'd lips of drouth, +The wave that wearies not to mock his mouth. +'Tis Lethe's; they alone that tide have quaff'd +Who never thirsted for the oblivious draught. + + * * * * * + +A MAIDEN'S EPITAPH + +She dwelt among us till the flowers, 'tis said, + Grew jealous of her: with precipitate feet, +As loth to wrong them unawares, she fled. + Earth is less fragrant now, and heaven more sweet. + + + +WORDSWORTH'S GRAVE + + +TO JAMES BROMLEY + +WITH "WORDSWORTH'S GRAVE" + +Ere vandal lords with lust of gold accurst + Deface each hallowed hillside we revere-- +Ere cities in their million-throated thirst + Menace each sacred mere-- +Let us give thanks because one nook hath been + Unflooded yet by desecration's wave, +The little churchyard in the valley green + That holds our Wordsworth's grave. + +'Twas there I plucked these elegiac blooms, + There where he rests 'mid comrades fit and few, +And thence I bring this growth of classic tombs, + An offering, friend, to you-- +You who have loved like me his simple themes, + Loved his sincere large accent nobly plain, +And loved the land whose mountains and whose streams + Are lovelier for his strain. + +It may be that his manly chant, beside + More dainty numbers, seems a rustic tune; +It may be, thought has broadened since he died + Upon the century's noon; +It may be that we can no longer share + The faith which from his fathers he received; +It may be that our doom is to despair + Where he with joy believed;-- + +Enough that there is none since risen who sings + A song so gotten of the immediate soul, +So instant from the vital fount of things + Which is our source and goal; +And though at touch of later hands there float + More artful tones than from his lyre he drew, +Ages may pass ere trills another note + So sweet, so great, so true. + + + +WORDSWORTH'S GRAVE + +I + +The old rude church, with bare, bald tower, is here; + Beneath its shadow high-born Rotha flows; +Rotha, remembering well who slumbers near, + And with cool murmur lulling his repose + +Rotha, remembering well who slumbers near. + His hills, his lakes, his streams are with him yet. +Surely the heart that read her own heart clear + Nature forgets not soon: 'tis we forget. + +We that with vagrant soul his fixity + Have slighted; faithless, done his deep faith wrong; +Left him for poorer loves, and bowed the knee + To misbegotten strange new gods of song. + +Yet, led by hollow ghost or beckoning elf + Far from her homestead to the desert bourn, +The vagrant soul returning to herself + Wearily wise, must needs to him return. + +To him and to the powers that with him dwell:-- + Inflowings that divulged not whence they came; +And that secluded spirit unknowable, + The mystery we make darker with a name; + +The Somewhat which we name but cannot know, + Ev'n as we name a star and only see +His quenchless flashings forth, which ever show + And ever hide him, and which are not he. + + +II + +Poet who sleepest by this wandering wave! + When thou wast born, what birth-gift hadst thou then? +To thee what wealth was that the Immortals gave, + The wealth thou gavest in thy turn to men? + +Not Milton's keen, translunar music thine; + Not Shakespeare's cloudless, boundless human view; +Not Shelley's flush of rose on peaks divine; + Nor yet the wizard twilight Coleridge knew. + +What hadst thou that could make so large amends + For all thou hadst not and thy peers possessed, +Motion and fire, swift means to radiant ends?-- + Thou hadst, for weary feet, the gift of rest. + +From Shelley's dazzling glow or thunderous haze, + From Byron's tempest-anger, tempest-mirth, +Men turned to thee and found--not blast and blaze, + Tumult of tottering heavens, but peace on earth, + +Nor peace that grows by Lethe, scentless flower, + There in white languors to decline and cease; +But peace whose names are also rapture, power, + Clear sight, and love: for these are parts of peace. + + +III + +I hear it vouched the Muse is with us still;-- + If less divinely frenzied than of yore, +In lieu of feelings she has wondrous skill + To simulate emotion felt no more. + +Not such the authentic Presence pure, that made + This valley vocal in the great days gone!-- +In _his_ great days, while yet the spring-time played + About him, and the mighty morning shone. + +No word-mosaic artificer, he sang + A lofty song of lowly weal and dole. +Right from the heart, right to the heart it sprang, + Or from the soul leapt instant to the soul. + +He felt the charm of childhood, grace of youth, + Grandeur of age, insisting to be sung. +The impassioned argument was simple truth + Half-wondering at its own melodious tongue. + +Impassioned? ay, to the song's ecstatic core! + But far removed were clangour, storm and feud; +For plenteous health was his, exceeding store + Of joy, and an impassioned quietude. + + +IV + +A hundred years ere he to manhood came, + Song from celestial heights had wandered down, +Put off her robe of sunlight, dew and flame, + And donned a modish dress to charm the Town. + +Thenceforth she but festooned the porch of things; + Apt at life's lore, incurious what life meant. +Dextrous of hand, she struck her lute's few strings; + Ignobly perfect, barrenly content. + +Unflushed with ardour and unblanched with awe, + Her lips in profitless derision curled, +She saw with dull emotion--if she saw-- + The vision of the glory of the world. + +The human masque she watched, with dreamless eyes + In whose clear shallows lurked no trembling shade: +The stars, unkenned by her, might set and rise, + Unmarked by her, the daisies bloom and fade. + +The age grew sated with her sterile wit. + Herself waxed weary on her loveless throne. +Men felt life's tide, the sweep and surge of it, + And craved a living voice, a natural tone. + +For none the less, though song was but half true, + The world lay common, one abounding theme. +Man joyed and wept, and fate was ever new, + And love was sweet, life real, death no dream. + +In sad stern verse the rugged scholar-sage + Bemoaned his toil unvalued, youth uncheered. +His numbers wore the vesture of the age, + But, 'neath it beating, the great heart was heard. + +From dewy pastures, uplands sweet with thyme, + A virgin breeze freshened the jaded day. +It wafted Collins' lonely vesper-chime, + It breathed abroad the frugal note of Gray. + +It fluttered here and there, nor swept in vain + The dusty haunts where futile echoes dwell,-- +Then, in a cadence soft as summer rain, + And sad from Auburn voiceless, drooped and fell. + +It drooped and fell, and one 'neath northern skies, + With southern heart, who tilled his father's field, +Found Poesy a-dying, bade her rise + And touch quick nature's hem and go forth healed. + +On life's broad plain the ploughman's conquering share + Upturned the fallow lands of truth anew, +And o'er the formal garden's trim parterre + The peasant's team a ruthless furrow drew. + +Bright was his going forth, but clouds ere long + Whelmed him; in gloom his radiance set, and those +Twin morning stars of the new century's song, + Those morning stars that sang together, rose. + +In elvish speech the _Dreamer_ told his tale + Of marvellous oceans swept by fateful wings.-- +The _Seër_ strayed not from earth's human pale, + But the mysterious face of common things + +He mirrored as the moon in Rydal Mere + Is mirrored, when the breathless night hangs blue: +Strangely remote she seems and wondrous near, + And by some nameless difference born anew. + + +V + +Peace--peace--and rest! Ah, how the lyre is loth, + Or powerless now, to give what all men seek! +Either it deadens with ignoble sloth + Or deafens with shrill tumult, loudly weak. + +Where is the singer whose large notes and clear + Can heal and arm and plenish and sustain? +Lo, one with empty music floods the ear, + And one, the heart refreshing, tires the brain. + +And idly tuneful, the loquacious throng + Flutter and twitter, prodigal of time, +And little masters make a toy of song + Till grave men weary of the sound of rhyme. + +And some go prankt in faded antique dress, + Abhorring to be hale and glad and free; +And some parade a conscious naturalness, + The scholar's not the child's simplicity. + +Enough;--and wisest who from words forbear. + The kindly river rails not as it glides; +And suave and charitable, the winning air + Chides not at all, or only him who chides. + + +VI + +Nature! we storm thine ear with choric notes. + Thou answerest through the calm great nights and days, +"Laud me who will: not tuneless are your throats; + Yet if ye paused I should not miss the praise." + +We falter, half-rebuked, and sing again. + We chant thy desertness and haggard gloom, +Or with thy splendid wrath inflate the strain, + Or touch it with thy colour and perfume. + +One, his melodious blood aflame for thee, + Wooed with fierce lust, his hot heart world-defiled. +One, with the upward eye of infancy, + Looked in thy face, and felt himself thy child. + +Thee he approached without distrust or dread-- + Beheld thee throned, an awful queen, above-- +Climbed to thy lap and merely laid his head + Against thy warm wild heart of mother-love. + +He heard that vast heart beating--thou didst press + Thy child so close, and lov'dst him unaware. +Thy beauty gladdened him; yet he scarce less + Had loved thee, had he never found thee fair! + +For thou wast not as legendary lands + To which with curious eyes and ears we roam. +Nor wast thou as a fane mid solemn sands, + Where palmers halt at evening. Thou wast home. + +And here, at home, still bides he; but he sleeps; + Not to be wakened even at thy word; +Though we, vague dreamers, dream he somewhere keeps + An ear still open to thy voice still heard,-- + +Thy voice, as heretofore, about him blown, + For ever blown about his silence now; +Thy voice, though deeper, yet so like his own + That almost, when he sang, we deemed 'twas thou! + + +VII + +Behind Helm Crag and Silver Howe the sheen + Of the retreating day is less and less. +Soon will the lordlier summits, here unseen, + Gather the night about their nakedness. + +The half-heard bleat of sheep comes from the hill, + Faint sounds of childish play are in the air. +The river murmurs past. All else is still. + The very graves seem stiller than they were. + +Afar though nation be on nation hurled, + And life with toil and ancient pain depressed, +Here one may scarce believe the whole wide world + Is not at peace, and all man's heart at rest. + +Rest! 'twas the gift _he_ gave; and peace! the shade + _He_ spread, for spirits fevered with the sun. +To him his bounties are come back--here laid + In rest, in peace, his labour nobly done. + + + +LACHRYMÆ MUSARUM +AND +OTHER POEMS + + + +TO +RICHARD HOLT HUTTON +AND +MEREDITH TOWNSEND + +WITH GRATITUDE + + + +LACHRYMÆ MUSARUM + +(6TH OCTOBER 1892) + +Low, like another's, lies the laurelled head: +The life that seemed a perfect song is o'er: +Carry the last great bard to his last bed. +Land that he loved, thy noblest voice is mute. +Land that he loved, that loved him! nevermore +Meadow of thine, smooth lawn or wild sea-shore, +Gardens of odorous bloom and tremulous fruit, +Or woodlands old, like Druid couches spread, +The master's feet shall tread. +Death's little rift hath rent the faultless lute: +The singer of undying songs is dead. + + Lo, in this season pensive-hued and grave, +While fades and falls the doomed, reluctant leaf +From withered Earth's fantastic coronal, +With wandering sighs of forest and of wave +Mingles the murmur of a people's grief +For him whose leaf shall fade not, neither fall. +He hath fared forth, beyond these suns and showers. +For us, the autumn glow, the autumn flame, +And soon the winter silence shall be ours: +Him the eternal spring of fadeless fame +Crowns with no mortal flowers. + + Rapt though he be from us, +Virgil salutes him, and Theocritus; +Catullus, mightiest-brained Lucretius, each +Greets him, their brother, on the Stygian beach; +Proudly a gaunt right hand doth Dante reach; +Milton and Wordsworth bid him welcome home; +Bright Keats to touch his raiment doth beseech; +Coleridge, his locks aspersed with fairy foam, +Calm Spenser, Chaucer suave, +His equal friendship crave: +And godlike spirits hail him guest, in speech +Of Athens, Florence, Weimar, Stratford, Rome. + + What needs his laurel our ephemeral tears, +To save from visitation of decay? +Not in this temporal sunlight, now, that bay +Blooms, nor to perishable mundane ears +Sings he with lips of transitory clay; +For he hath joined the chorus of his peers +In habitations of the perfect day: +His earthly notes a heavenly audience hears, +And more melodious are henceforth the spheres, +Enriched with music stol'n from earth away. + + He hath returned to regions whence he came. +Him doth the spirit divine +Of universal loveliness reclaim. +All nature is his shrine. +Seek him henceforward in the wind and sea, +In earth's and air's emotion or repose, +In every star's august serenity, +And in the rapture of the flaming rose. +There seek him if ye would not seek in vain, +There, in the rhythm and music of the Whole; +Yea, and for ever in the human soul +Made stronger and more beauteous by his strain. + + For lo! creation's self is one great choir, +And what is nature's order but the rhyme +Whereto the worlds keep time, +And all things move with all things from their prime? +Who shall expound the mystery of the lyre? +In far retreats of elemental mind +Obscurely comes and goes +The imperative breath of song, that as the wind +Is trackless, and oblivious whence it blows. +Demand of lilies wherefore they are white, +Extort her crimson secret from the rose, +But ask not of the Muse that she disclose +The meaning of the riddle of her might: +Somewhat of all things sealed and recondite, +Save the enigma of herself, she knows. +The master could not tell, with all his lore, +Wherefore he sang, or whence the mandate sped; +Ev'n as the linnet sings, so I, he said;-- +Ah, rather as the imperial nightingale, +That held in trance the ancient Attic shore, +And charms the ages with the notes that o'er +All woodland chants immortally prevail! +And now, from our vain plaudits greatly fled, +He with diviner silence dwells instead, +And on no earthly sea with transient roar, +Unto no earthly airs, he trims his sail, +But far beyond our vision and our hail +Is heard for ever and is seen no more. + + No more, O never now, +Lord of the lofty and the tranquil brow +Whereon nor snows of time +Have fall'n, nor wintry rime, +Shall men behold thee, sage and mage sublime. +Once, in his youth obscure, +The maker of this verse, which shall endure +By splendour of its theme that cannot die, +Beheld thee eye to eye, +And touched through thee the hand +Of every hero of thy race divine, +Ev'n to the sire of all the laurelled line, +The sightless wanderer on the Ionian strand, +With soul as healthful as the poignant brine, +Wide as his skies and radiant as his seas, +Starry from haunts of his Familiars nine, +Glorious Mæonides. +Yea, I beheld thee, and behold thee yet: +Thou hast forgotten, but can I forget? +The accents of thy pure and sovereign tongue, +Are they not ever goldenly impressed +On memory's palimpsest? +I see the wizard locks like night that hung, +I tread the floor thy hallowing feet have trod; +I see the hands a nation's lyre that strung, +The eyes that looked through life and gazed on God. + + The seasons change, the winds they shift and veer; +The grass of yesteryear +Is dead; the birds depart, the groves decay: +Empires dissolve and peoples disappear: +Song passes not away. +Captains and conquerors leave a little dust, +And kings a dubious legend of their reign; +The swords of Cæsars, they are less than rust: +The poet doth remain. +Dead is Augustus, Maro is alive; +And thou, the Mantuan of our age and clime, +Like Virgil shalt thy race and tongue survive, +Bequeathing no less honeyed words to time, +Embalmed in amber of eternal rhyme, +And rich with sweets from every Muse's hive; +While to the measure of the cosmic rune +For purer ears thou shalt thy lyre attune, +And heed no more the hum of idle praise +In that great calm our tumults cannot reach, +Master who crown'st our immelodious days +With flower of perfect speech. + + + +DEDICATION OF "THE DREAM OF MAN" + +TO LONDON, MY HOSTESS + +City that waitest to be sung,-- + For whom no hand +To mighty strains the lyre hath strung + In all this land, +Though mightier theme the mightiest ones + Sang not of old, +The thrice three sisters' godlike sons + With lips of gold,-- +Till greater voice thy greatness sing + In loftier times, +Suffer an alien muse to bring + Her votive rhymes. + +Yes, alien in thy midst am I, + Not of thy brood; +The nursling of a norland sky + Of rougher mood: +To me, thy tarrying guest, to me, + 'Mid thy loud hum, +Strayed visions of the moor or sea + Tormenting come. +Above the thunder of the wheels + That hurry by, +From lapping of lone waves there steals + A far-sent sigh; + +And many a dream-reared mountain crest + My feet have trod, +There where thy Minster in the West + Gropes toward God. +Yet, from thy presence if I go, + By woodlands deep +Or ocean-fringes, thou, I know, + Wilt haunt my sleep; +Thy restless tides of life will foam, + Still, in my sight; +Thy imperturbable dark dome + Will crown my night. + +O sea of living waves that roll + On golden sands, +Or break on tragic reef and shoal + 'Mid fatal lands; +O forest wrought of living leaves, + Some filled with Spring, +Where joy life's festal raiment weaves + And all birds sing,-- +Some trampled in the miry ways, + Or whirled along +By fury of tempestuous days,-- + Take thou my song! + +For thou hast scorned not heretofore + The gifts of rhyme +I dropped, half faltering, at thy door, + City sublime; +And though 'tis true I am but guest + Within thy gate, +Unto thy hands I owe the best + Awards of fate. +Imperial hostess! thanks from me + To thee belong: +O living forest, living sea, + Take thou my song! + + + +THE DREAM OF MAN + +To the eye and the ear of the Dreamer + This Dream out of darkness flew, +Through the horn or the ivory portal, + But he wist not which of the two. + +It was the Human Spirit, + Of all men's souls the Soul, +Man the unwearied climber, + That climbed to the unknown goal. +And up the steps of the ages, + The difficult steep ascent, +Man the unwearied climber + Pauseless and dauntless went. +Æons rolled behind him + With thunder of far retreat, +And still as he strove he conquered + And laid his foes at his feet. +Inimical powers of nature, + Tempest and flood and fire, +The spleen of fickle seasons + That loved to baulk his desire, +The breath of hostile climates, + The ravage of blight and dearth, +The old unrest that vexes + The heart of the moody earth, +The genii swift and radiant + Sabreing heaven with flame, +He, with a keener weapon, + The sword of his wit, overcame. +Disease and her ravening offspring, + Pain with the thousand teeth, +He drave into night primeval, + The nethermost worlds beneath, +Till the Lord of Death, the undying, + Ev'n Asraël the King, +No more with Furies for heralds + Came armed with scourge and sting, +But gentle of voice and of visage, + By calm Age ushered and led, +A guest, serenely featured, + Entering, woke no dread. +And, as the rolling æons + Retreated with pomp of sound, +Man's spirit, grown too lordly + For this mean orb to bound, +By arts in his youth undreamed of + His terrene fetters broke, +With enterprise ethereal + Spurning the natal yoke, +And, stung with divine ambition, + And fired with a glorious greed, +He annexed the stars and the planets + And peopled them with his seed. + +Then said he, "The infinite Scripture + I have read and interpreted clear, +And searching all worlds I have found not + My sovereign or my peer. +In what room of the palace of nature + Resides the invisible God? +For all her doors I have opened, + And all her floors I have trod. +If greater than I be her tenant, + Let him answer my challenging call: +Till then I admit no rival, + But crown myself master of all." +And forth as that word went bruited, + By Man unto Man were raised +Fanes of devout self-homage, + Where he who praised was the praised; +And from vast unto vast of creation + The new evangel ran, +And an odour of world-wide incense + Went up from Man unto Man; +Until, on a solemn feast-day, + When the world's usurping lord +At a million impious altars + His own proud image adored, +God spake as He stept from His ambush: + "O great in thine own conceit, +I will show thee thy source, how humble, + Thy goal, for a god how unmeet." + +Thereat, by the word of the Maker + The Spirit of Man was led +To a mighty peak of vision, + Where God to His creature said: +"Look eastward toward time's sunrise." + And, age upon age untold, +The Spirit of Man saw clearly + The Past as a chart out-rolled,-- +Beheld his base beginnings + In the depths of time, and his strife, +With beasts and crawling horrors + For leave to live, when life +Meant but to slay and to procreate, + To feed and to sleep, among +Mere mouths, voracities boundless, + Blind lusts, desires without tongue, +And ferocities vast, fulfilling + Their being's malignant law, +While nature was one hunger, + And one hate, all fangs and maw. + +With that, for a single moment, + Abashed at his own descent, +In humbleness Man's Spirit + At the feet of the Maker bent; +But, swifter than light, he recovered + The stature and pose of his pride, +And, "Think not thus to shame me + With my mean birth," he cried. +"This is my loftiest greatness, + To have been born so low; +Greater than Thou the ungrowing + Am I that for ever grow." +And God forbore to rebuke him, + But answered brief and stern, +Bidding him toward time's sunset + His vision westward turn; +And the Spirit of Man obeying + Beheld as a chart out-rolled +The likeness and form of the Future, + Age upon age untold; +Beheld his own meridian, + And beheld his dark decline, +His secular fall to nadir + From summits of light divine, +Till at last, amid worlds exhausted, + And bankrupt of force and fire, +'Twas his, in a torrent of darkness, + Like a sputtering lamp to expire. + +Then a war of shame and anger + Did the realm of his soul divide; +"'Tis false, 'tis a lying vision," + In the face of his God he cried. +"Thou thinkest to daunt me with shadows; + Not such as Thou feign'st is my doom: +From glory to rise unto glory + Is mine, who have risen from gloom. +I doubt if Thou knew'st at my making + How near to thy throne I should climb, +O'er the mountainous slopes of the ages + And the conquered peaks of time. +Nor shall I look backward nor rest me + Till the uttermost heights I have trod, +And am equalled with Thee or above Thee, + The mate or the master of God." + +Ev'n thus Man turned from the Maker, + With thundered defiance wild, +And God with a terrible silence + Reproved the speech of His child. +And man returned to his labours, + And stiffened the neck of his will; +And the æons still went rolling, + And his power was crescent still. +But yet there remained to conquer + One foe, and the greatest--although +Despoiled of his ancient terrors, + At heart, as of old, a foe-- +Unmaker of all, and renewer, + Who winnows the world with his wing, +The Lord of Death, the undying, + Ev'n Asraël the King. + +And lo, Man mustered his forces + The war of wars to wage, +And with storm and thunder of onset + Did the foe of foes engage, +And the Lord of Death, the undying, + Was beset and harried sore, +In his immemorial fastness + At night's aboriginal core. +And during years a thousand + Man leaguered his enemy's hold, +While nature was one deep tremor, + And the heart of the world waxed cold, +Till the phantom battlements wavered, + And the ghostly fortress fell, +And Man with shadowy fetters + Bound fast great Asraël. + +So, to each star in the heavens, + The exultant word was blown, +The annunciation tremendous, + _Death is overthrown!_ +And Space in her ultimate borders + Prolonging the jubilant tone, +With hollow ingeminations, + Sighed, _Death is overthrown!_ +And God in His house of silence, + Where He dwelleth aloof, alone, +Paused in His tasks to hearken: + _Death is overthrown!_ + +Then a solemn and high thanksgiving + By Man unto Man was sung, +In his temples of self-adoration, + With his own multitudinous tongue; +And he said to his Soul: "Rejoice thou + For thy last great foe lies bound, +Ev'n Asraël the Unmaker, + Unmade, disarmed, discrowned." + +And behold, his Soul rejoiced not, + The breath of whose being was strife, +For life with nothing to vanquish + Seemed but the shadow of life. +No goal invited and promised + And divinely provocative shone; +And Fear having fled, her sister, + Blest Hope, in her train was gone; +And the coping and crown of achievement + Was hell than defeat more dire-- +The torment of all-things-compassed, + The plague of nought-to-desire; +And Man the invincible queller, + Man with his foot on his foes, +In boundless satiety hungred, + Restless from utter repose, +Victor of nature, victor + Of the prince of the powers of the air, +By mighty weariness vanquished, + And crowned with august despair. + +Then, at his dreadful zenith, + He cried unto God: "O Thou +Whom of old in my days of striving + Methought I needed not,--now, +In this my abject glory, + My hopeless and helpless might, +Hearken and cheer and succour!" + And God from His lonely height, +From eternity's passionless summits, + On suppliant Man looked down, +And His brow waxed human with pity, + Belying its awful crown. +"Thy richest possession," He answered, + "Blest Hope, will I restore, +And the infinite wealth of weakness + Which was thy strength of yore; +And I will arouse from slumber, + In his hold where bound he lies, +Thine enemy most benefic;-- + O Asraël, hear and rise!" + +And a sound like the heart of nature + Riven and cloven and torn, +Announced, to the ear universal, + Undying Death new-born. +Sublime he rose in his fetters, + And shook the chains aside +Ev'n as some mortal sleeper + 'Mid forests in autumntide +Rises and shakes off lightly + The leaves that lightly fell +On his limbs and his hair unheeded + While as yet he slumbered well. + +And Deity paused and hearkened, + Then turned to the undivine, +Saying, "O Man, My creature, + Thy lot was more blest than Mine. +I taste not delight of seeking, + Nor the boon of longing know. +There is but one joy transcendent, + And I hoard it not but bestow. +I hoard it not nor have tasted, + But freely I gave it to thee-- +The joy of most glorious striving, + Which dieth in victory." +Thus, to the Soul of the Dreamer, + This Dream out of darkness flew, +Through the horn or the ivory portal, + But he wist not which of the two. + + + +SHELLEY'S CENTENARY + +(4TH AUGUST 1892) + +Within a narrow span of time, +Three princes of the realm of rhyme, +At height of youth or manhood's prime, + From earth took wing, +To join the fellowship sublime + Who, dead, yet sing. + +He, first, his earliest wreath who wove +Of laurel grown in Latmian grove, +Conquered by pain and hapless love + Found calmer home, +Roofed by the heaven that glows above + Eternal Rome. + +A fierier soul, its own fierce prey, +And cumbered with more mortal clay, +At Missolonghi flamed away, + And left the air +Reverberating to this day + Its loud despair. + +Alike remote from Byron's scorn, +And Keats's magic as of morn +Bursting for ever newly-born + On forests old, +Waking a hoary world forlorn + With touch of gold, + +Shelley, the cloud-begot, who grew +Nourished on air and sun and dew, +Into that Essence whence he drew + His life and lyre +Was fittingly resolved anew + Through wave and fire. + +'Twas like his rapid soul! 'Twas meet +That he, who brooked not Time's slow feet, +With passage thus abrupt and fleet + Should hurry hence, +Eager the Great Perhaps to greet + With Why? and Whence? + +Impatient of the world's fixed way, +He ne'er could suffer God's delay, +But all the future in a day + Would build divine, +And the whole past in ruins lay, + An emptied shrine. + +Vain vision! but the glow, the fire, +The passion of benign desire, +The glorious yearning, lift him higher + Than many a soul +That mounts a million paces nigher + Its meaner goal. + +And power is his, if naught besides, +In that thin ether where he rides, +Above the roar of human tides + To ascend afar, +Lost in a storm of light that hides + His dizzy car. + +Below, the unhastening world toils on, +And here and there are victories won, +Some dragon slain, some justice done, + While, through the skies, +A meteor rushing on the sun, + He flares and dies. + +But, as he cleaves yon ether clear +Notes from the unattempted Sphere +He scatters to the enchanted ear + Of earth's dim throng, +Whose dissonance doth more endear + The showering song. + +In other shapes than he forecast +The world is moulded: his fierce blast,-- +His wild assault upon the Past,-- + These things are vain; +Revolt is transient: what _must_ last + Is that pure strain, + +Which seems the wandering voices blent +Of every virgin element,-- +A sound from ocean caverns sent,-- + An airy call +From the pavilioned firmament + O'erdoming all. + +And in this world of worldlings, where +Souls rust in apathy, and ne'er +A great emotion shakes the air, + And life flags tame, +And rare is noble impulse, rare + The impassioned aim, + +'Tis no mean fortune to have heard +A singer who, if errors blurred +His sight, had yet a spirit stirred + By vast desire, +And ardour fledging the swift word + With plumes of fire. + +A creature of impetuous breath, +Our torpor deadlier than death +He knew not; whatsoe'er he saith + Flashes with life: +He spurreth men, he quickeneth + To splendid strife. + +And in his gusts of song he brings +Wild odours shaken from strange wings, +And unfamiliar whisperings + From far lips blown, +While all the rapturous heart of things + Throbs through his own,-- + +His own that from the burning pyre +One who had loved his wind-swept lyre +Out of the sharp teeth of the fire + Unmolten drew, +Beside the sea that in her ire + Smote him and slew. + + + +A GOLDEN HOUR + +A beckoning spirit of gladness seemed afloat, + That lightly danced in laughing air before us: +The earth was all in tune, and you a note + Of Nature's happy chorus. + +'Twas like a vernal morn, yet overhead + The leafless boughs across the lane were knitting: +The ghost of some forgotten Spring, we said, + O'er Winter's world comes flitting. + +Or was it Spring herself, that, gone astray, + Beyond the alien frontier chose to tarry? +Or but some bold outrider of the May, + Some April-emissary? + +The apparition faded on the air, + Capricious and incalculable comer.-- +Wilt thou too pass, and leave my chill days bare, + And fall'n my phantom Summer? + + + +AT THE GRAVE OF CHARLES LAMB, IN EDMONTON + +Not here, O teeming City, was it meet + Thy lover, thy most faithful, should repose, + But where the multitudinous life-tide flows +Whose ocean-murmur was to him more sweet +Than melody of birds at morn, or bleat + Of flocks in Spring-time, _there_ should Earth enclose + His earth, amid thy thronging joys and woes, +There, 'neath the music of thy million feet. +In love of thee this lover knew no peer. + Thine eastern or thy western fane had made + Fit habitation for his noble shade. +Mother of mightier, nurse of none more dear, +Not here, in rustic exile, O not here, + Thy Elia like an alien should be laid! + + + +LINES IN A FLYLEAF OF "CHRISTABEL" + +Inhospitably hast thou entertained, +O Poet, us the bidden to thy board, +Whom in mid-feast, and while our thousand mouths +Are one laudation of the festal cheer, +Thou from thy table dost dismiss, unfilled. +Yet loudlier thee than many a lavish host +We praise, and oftener thy repast half-served +Than many a stintless banquet, prodigally +Through satiate hours prolonged; nor praise less well +Because with tongues thou hast not cloyed, and lips +That mourn the parsimony of affluent souls, +And mix the lamentation with the laud. + + + +LINES TO OUR NEW CENSOR + +[Mr. Oscar Wilde, having discovered that England is unworthy +of him, has announced his resolve to become a naturalised +Frenchman.] + +And wilt thou, Oscar, from us flee, + And must we, henceforth, wholly sever? +Shall thy laborious _jeux-d'esprit_ + Sadden our lives no more for ever? + +And all thy future wilt thou link + With that brave land to which thou goest? +Unhappy France! we _used_ to think + She touched, at Sedan, fortune's lowest. + +And you're made French as easily + As you might change the clothes you're wearing? +Fancy!--and 'tis so hard to be + A man of sense and modest bearing. + +May fortitude beneath this blow + Fail not the gallant Gallic nation! +By past experience, well we know + Her genius for recuperation. + +And as for us--to our disgrace, + Your stricture's truth must be conceded: +Would any but a stupid race + Have made the fuss about you _we_ did? + + + +RELUCTANT SUMMER + +Reluctant Summer! once, a maid + Full easy of access, +In many a bee-frequented shade + Thou didst thy lover bless. +Divinely unreproved I played, + Then, with each liberal tress-- +And art thou grown at last afraid + Of some too close caress? + +Or deem'st that if thou shouldst abide + My passion might decay? +Thou leav'st me pining and denied, + Coyly thou say'st me nay. +Ev'n as I woo thee to my side, + Thou, importuned to stay, +Like Orpheus' half-recovered bride + Ebb'st from my arms away. + + + +THE GREAT MISGIVING + +"Not ours," say some, "the thought of death to dread; + Asking no heaven, we fear no fabled hell: +Life is a feast, and we have banqueted-- + Shall not the worms as well? + +"The after-silence, when the feast is o'er, + And void the places where the minstrels stood, +Differs in nought from what hath been before, + And is nor ill nor good." + +Ah, but the Apparition--the dumb sign-- + The beckoning finger bidding me forego +The fellowship, the converse, and the wine, + The songs, the festal glow! + +And ah, to know not, while with friends I sit, + And while the purple joy is passed about, +Whether 'tis ampler day divinelier lit + Or homeless night without; + +And whether, stepping forth, my soul shall see + New prospects, or fall sheer--a blinded thing! +_There_ is, O grave, thy hourly victory, + And there, O death, thy sting. + + + +"THE THINGS THAT ARE MORE EXCELLENT" + +As we wax older on this earth, + Till many a toy that charmed us seems +Emptied of beauty, stripped of worth, + And mean as dust and dead as dreams,-- +For gauds that perished, shows that passed, + Some recompense the Fates have sent: +Thrice lovelier shine the things that last, + The things that are more excellent. + +Tired of the Senate's barren brawl, + An hour with silence we prefer, +Where statelier rise the woods than all + Yon towers of talk at Westminster. +Let this man prate and that man plot, + On fame or place or title bent: +The votes of veering crowds are not + The things that are more excellent. + +Shall we perturb and vex our soul + For "wrongs" which no true freedom mar, +Which no man's upright walk control, + And from no guiltless deed debar? +What odds though tonguesters heal, or leave + Unhealed, the grievance they invent? +To things, not phantoms, let us cleave-- + The things that are more excellent. + +Nought nobler is, than to be free: + The stars of heaven are free because +In amplitude of liberty + Their joy is to obey the laws. +From servitude to freedom's _name_ + Free thou thy mind in bondage pent; +Depose the fetich, and proclaim + The things that are more excellent. + +And in appropriate dust be hurled + That dull, punctilious god, whom they +That call their tiny clan the world, + Serve and obsequiously obey: +Who con their ritual of Routine, + With minds to one dead likeness blent, +And never ev'n in dreams have seen + The things that are more excellent. + +To dress, to call, to dine, to break + No canon of the social code, +The little laws that lacqueys make, + The futile decalogue of Mode,-- +How many a soul for these things lives, + With pious passion, grave intent! +While Nature careless-handed gives + The things that are more excellent. + +To hug the wealth ye cannot use, + And lack the riches all may gain,-- +O blind and wanting wit to choose, + Who house the chaff and burn the grain! +And still doth life with starry towers + Lure to the bright, divine ascent!-- +Be yours the things ye would: be ours + The things that are more excellent. + +The grace of friendship--mind and heart + Linked with their fellow heart and mind; +The gains of science, gifts of art; + The sense of oneness with our kind; +The thirst to know and understand-- + A large and liberal discontent: +These are the goods in life's rich hand, + The things that are more excellent. + +In faultless rhythm the ocean rolls, + A rapturous silence thrills the skies; +And on this earth are lovely souls, + That softly look with aidful eyes. +Though dark, O God, Thy course and track, + I think Thou must at least have meant +That nought which lives should wholly lack + The things that are more excellent. + + + +BEAUTY'S METEMPSYCHOSIS + + That beauty such as thine + Can die indeed, +Were ordinance too wantonly malign: +No wit may reconcile so cold a creed + With beauty such as thine. + + From wave and star and flower + Some effluence rare +Was lent thee, a divine but transient dower: +Thou yield'st it back from eyes and lips and hair + To wave and star and flower. + + Shouldst thou to-morrow die, + Thou still shalt be +Found in the rose and met in all the sky: +And from the ocean's heart shalt sing to me, + Shouldst thou to-morrow die. + + + +ENGLAND MY MOTHER + +I + +England my mother, +Wardress of waters. +Builder of peoples, + Maker of men,-- + +Hast thou yet leisure +Left for the muses? +Heed'st thou the songsmith + Forging the rhyme? + +Deafened with tumults, +How canst thou hearken? +Strident is faction, + Demos is loud. + +Lazarus, hungry, +Menaces Dives; +Labour the giant + Chafes in his hold. + +Yet do the songsmiths +Quit not their forges; +Still on life's anvil + Forge they the rhyme. + +Still the rapt faces +Glow from the furnace: +Breath of the smithy + Scorches their brows. + +Yea, and thou hear'st them? +So shall the hammers +Fashion not vainly + Verses of gold. + + +II + +Lo, with the ancient +Roots of man's nature, +Twines the eternal + Passion of song. + +Ever Love fans it, +Ever Life feeds it, +Time cannot age it; + Death cannot slay. + +Deep in the world-heart +Stand its foundations, +Tangled with all things, + Twin-made with all. + +Nay, what is Nature's +Self, but an endless +Strife toward music, + Euphony, rhyme? + +Trees in their blooming, +Tides in their flowing, +Stars in their circling, + Tremble with song. + +God on His throne is +Eldest of poets: +Unto His measures + Moveth the Whole. + + +III + +Therefore deride not +Speech of the muses, +England my mother, + Maker of men. + +Nations are mortal, +Fragile is greatness; +Fortune may fly thee, + Song shall not fly. + +Song the all-girdling, +Song cannot perish: +Men shall make music, + Man shall give ear. + +Not while the choric +Chant of creation +Floweth from all things, + Poured without pause, + +Cease we to echo +Faintly the descant +Whereto for ever + Dances the world. + + +IV + +So let the songsmith +Proffer his rhyme-gift, +England my mother, + Maker of men. + +Gray grows thy count'nance, +Full of the ages; +Time on thy forehead + Sits like a dream: + +Song is the potion +All things renewing, +Youth's one elixir, + Fountain of morn. + +Thou, at the world-loom +Weaving thy future, +Fitly may'st temper + Toil with delight. + +Deemest thou, labour +Only is earnest? +Grave is all beauty, + Solemn is joy. + +Song is no bauble-- +Slight not the songsmith, +England my mother, + Maker of men. + + + +NIGHT + +In the night, in the night, +When thou liest alone, +Ah, the sounds that are blown + In the freaks of the breeze, +By the spirit that sends +The voice of far friends + With the sigh of the seas + In the night! + +In the night, in the night, +When thou liest alone, +Ah, the ghosts that make moan + From the days that are sped: +The old dreams, the old deeds, +The old wound that still bleeds, + And the face of the dead + In the night! + +In the night, in the night, +When thou liest alone, +With the grass and the stone + O'er thy chamber so deep, +Ah, the silence at last, +Life's dissonance past, + And only pure sleep + In the night! + + + +THE FUGITIVE IDEAL + +As some most pure and noble face, + Seen in the thronged and hurrying street, +Sheds o'er the world a sudden grace, + A flying odour sweet, +Then, passing, leaves the cheated sense +Baulked with a phantom excellence; + +So, on our soul the visions rise + Of that fair life we never led: +They flash a splendour past our eyes, + We start, and they are fled: +They pass, and leave us with blank gaze, +Resigned to our ignoble days. + + + +"THE FORESTERS" + +(Lines written on the appearance of Lord Tennyson's drama.) + +Clear as of old the great voice rings to-day, +While Sherwood's oak-leaves twine with Aldworth's bay: +The voice of him the master and the sire +Of one whole age and legion of the lyre, +Who sang his morning-song when Coleridge still +Uttered dark oracles from Highgate Hill, +And with new-launchèd argosies of rhyme +Gilds and makes brave this sombreing tide of time. +Far be the hour when lesser brows shall wear +The laurel glorious from that wintry hair-- +When he, the sovereign of our lyric day, +In Charon's shallop must be rowed away, +And hear, scarce heeding, 'mid the plash of oar, +The _ave atque vale_ from the shore! + +To him nor tender nor heroic muse +Did her divine confederacy refuse: +To all its moods the lyre of life he strung, +And notes of death fell deathless from his tongue. +Himself the Merlin of his magic strain, +He bade old glories break in gloom again; +And so exempted from oblivious doom, +Through him these days shall fadeless break in bloom. + + + +SONG + +Lightly we met in the morn, + Lightly we parted at eve. +There was never a thought of the thorn + The rose of a day might leave. + +Fate's finger we did not perceive, + So lightly we met in the morn! +So lightly we parted at eve + We knew not that Love was born. + +I rose on the morrow forlorn, + To pine and remember and grieve. +Too lightly we met in the morn! + Too lightly we parted at eve! + + + +COLUMBUS + +(12TH OCTOBER 1492) + +From his adventurous prime +He dreamed the dream sublime: + Over his wandering youth + It hung, a beckoning star. +At last the vision fled, +And left him in its stead + The scarce sublimer truth, + The world he found afar. + +The scattered isles that stand +Warding the mightier land + Yielded their maidenhood + To his imperious prow. +The mainland within call +Lay vast and virginal: + In its blue porch he stood: + No more did fate allow. + +No more! but ah, how much, +To be the first to touch + The veriest azure hem + Of that majestic robe! +Lord of the lordly sea, +Earth's mightiest sailor he: + Great Captain among them, + The captors of the globe. + +When shall the world forget +Thy glory and our debt, + Indomitable soul, + Immortal Genoese? +Not while the shrewd salt gale +Whines amid shroud and sail, + Above the rhythmic roll + And thunder of the seas. + + + +THE PRINCE'S QUEST +AND OTHER POEMS + + + +THE PRINCE'S QUEST + +PART THE FIRST + + There was a time, it passeth me to say +How long ago, but sure 'twas many a day +Before the world had gotten her such store +Of foolish wisdom as she hath,--before +She fell to waxing gray with weight of years +And knowledge, bitter knowledge, bought with tears,-- +When it did seem as if the feet of time +Moved to the music of a golden rhyme, +And never one false thread might woven be +Athwart that web of worldwide melody. +'Twas then there lived a certain queen and king, +Unvext of wars or other evil thing, +Within a spacious palace builded high, +Whence they might see their chiefest city lie +About them, and half hear from their tall towers +Its populous murmur through the daylight hours, +And see beyond its walls the pleasant plain. +One child they had, these blissful royal twain: +Of whom 'tis told--so more than fair was he-- +There lurked at whiles a something shadowy +Deep down within the fairness of his face; +As 'twere a hint of some not-earthly grace, +Making the royal stripling rather seem +The very dreaming offspring of a dream +Than human child of human ancestry: +And something strange-fantastical was he, +I doubt not. Howsoever he upgrew, +And after certain years to manhood drew +Nigh, so that all about his father's court, +Seeing his graciousness of princely port, +Rejoiced thereat; and many maidens' eyes +Look'd pleased upon his beauty, and the sighs +Of many told I know not what sweet tales. + + So, like to some fair ship with sunlit sails, +Glided his youth amid a stormless sea, +Till once by night there came mysteriously +A fateful wind, and o'er an unknown deep +Bore him perforce. It chanced that while in sleep +He lay, there came to him a strange dim dream. +'Twas like as he did float adown a stream, +In a lone boat that had nor sail nor oar +Yet seemed as it would glide for evermore, +Deep in the bosom of a sultry land +Fair with all fairness. Upon either hand +Were hills green-browed and mist-engarlanded, +And all about their feet were woods bespread, +Hoarding the cool and leafy silentness +In many an unsunned hollow and hid recess. +Nought of unbeauteous might be there espied; +But in the heart of the deep woods and wide, +And in the heart of all, was Mystery-- +A something more than outer eye might see, +A something more than ever ear might hear. +The very birds that came and sang anear +Did seem to syllable some faery tongue, +And, singing much, to hold yet more unsung. +And heard at whiles, with hollow wandering tone, +Far off, as by some aery huntsmen blown, +Faint-echoing horns, among the mountains wound, +Made all the live air tremulous with sound. + + So hour by hour (thus ran the Prince's dream) +Glided the boat along the broadening stream; +Till, being widowed of the sun her lord, +The purblind day went groping evenward: +Whereafter Sleep compelled to his mild yoke +The bubbling clear souls of the feathered folk, +Sealing the vital fountains of their song. +Howbeit the Prince went onward all night long +And never shade of languor came on him, +Nor any weariness his eyes made dim. +And so in season due he heard the breath +Of the brief winds that wake ere darkness' death +Sigh through the woods and all the valley wide: +The rushes by the water answering sighed: +Sighed all the river from its reedy throat. +And like a wingèd creature went the boat, +Over the errant water wandering free, +As some lone seabird over a lone sea. + + And Morn pale-haired with watery wide eyes +Look'd up. And starting with a swift surprise, +Sprang to his feet the Prince, and forward leant, +His gaze on something right before him bent +That like a towered and templed city showed, +Afar off, dim with very light, and glowed +As burnished seas at sundawn when the waves +Make amber lightnings all in dim-roof'd caves +That fling mock-thunder back. Long leagues away, +Down by the river's green right bank it lay, +Set like a jewel in the golden morn: +But ever as the Prince was onward borne, +Nearer and nearer danced the dizzy fires +Of domes innumerable and sun-tipt spires +And many a sky-acquainted pinnacle, +Splendid beyond what mortal tongue may tell; +And ere the middle heat of day was spent, +He saw, by nearness thrice-magnificent, +Hardly a furlong's space before him lie +The City, sloping to the stream thereby. + + And therewithal the boat of its own will +Close to the shore began to glide, until, +All of a sudden passing nigh to where +The glistering white feet of a marble stair +Ran to the rippled brink, the Prince outsprang +Upon the gleamy steps, and wellnigh sang +For joy, to be once more upon his feet, +Amid the green grass and the flowers sweet. +So on he paced along the river-marge, +And saw full many a fair and stately barge, +Adorned with strange device and imagery, +At anchor in the quiet waters lie. +And presently he came unto a gate +Of massy gold, that shone with splendid state +Of mystic hieroglyphs, and storied frieze +All overwrought with carven phantasies. +And in the shadow of the golden gate, +One in the habit of a porter sate, +And on the Prince with wondering eye looked he, +And greeted him with reverent courtesy, +Saying, "Fair sir, thou art of mortal race, +The first hath ever journeyed to this place,-- +For well I know thou art a stranger here, +As by the garb thou wearest doth appear; +And if thy raiment do belie thee not, +Thou should'st be some king's son. And well I wot, +If that be true was prophesied of yore, +A wondrous fortune is for thee in store; +For though I be not read in Doomful Writ, +Oft have I heard the wise expounding it, +And, of a truth, the fatal rolls declare +_That the first mortal who shall hither fare +Shall surely have our Maiden-Queen to wife, +And while the world lives shall they twain have life. _" + + Hereat, be sure, the wonder-stricken youth, +Holden in doubt if this were lies or truth, +Was tongue-tied with amaze, and sore perplext, +Unknowing what strange thing might chance him next, +And ere he found fit words to make reply, +The porter bade a youth who stood hard by +Conduct the princely stranger, as was meet, +Through the great golden gate into the street, +And thence o'er all the city, wheresoe'er +Was aught to show of wonderful or fair. + + With that the Prince, beside his willing guide, +Went straightway through the gate, and stood inside +The wall, that, builded of a rare white stone, +Clasp'd all the city like a silver zone. +And thence down many a shining street they passed, +Each one appearing goodlier than the last, +Cool with the presence of innumerous trees +And fountains playing before palaces. +And whichsoever way the Prince might look, +Another marvel, and another, took +His wildered eyes with very wonderment. +And holding talk together as they went, +The Prince besought his guide to tell him why +Of all the many folk that passed them by +There was not one that had the looks of eld, +Or yet of life's mid-years; for they beheld +Only young men and maidens everywhere, +Nor ever saw they one that was not fair. +Whereat the stripling: "Master, thou hast seen, +Belike, the river that doth flow between +Flowers and grasses at the city's feet?" +And when the Prince had rendered answer meet, +"Then," said the other, "know that whosoe'er +Drinks of the water thou beheldest there +(It matters not how many are his years) +Thenceforward from that moment he appears +Like as he was in youthly days, before +His passèd summers told beyond a score: +And so the people of this land possess +Unto all time their youth and comeliness." + + Scarce had his mouth made answer when there rose +Somewhat of tumult, ruffling the repose +Of the wide splendid street; and lifting up +His eyes, the Prince beheld a glittering troop +Of horsemen, each upon a beauteous steed, +Toward them coming at a gentle speed. +And as the cavalcade came on apace, +A sudden pleasure lit the stripling's face +Who bore him company and was his guide; +And "Lo, thou shalt behold our queen," he cried,-- +"Even the fairest of the many fair; +With whom was never maiden might compare +For very loveliness!" While yet he spake, +On all the air a silver sound 'gan break +Of jubilant and many-tongued acclaim, +And in a shining car the bright queen came, +And looking forth upon the multitude +Her eyes beheld the stranger where he stood, +And round about him was the loyal stir: +And all his soul went out in love to her. + + But even while her gaze met his, behold, +The city and its marvels manifold +Seemed suddenly removed far off, and placed +Somewhere in Twilight; and withal a waste +Of sudden waters lay like time between; +And over all that space he heard the queen +Calling unto him from her chariot; +And then came darkness. And the Dream was not. + + +PART THE SECOND + + A fearful and a lovely thing is Sleep, +And mighty store of secrets hath in keep; +And those there were of old who well could guess +What meant his fearfulness and loveliness, +And all his many shapes of life and death, +And all the secret things he uttereth. +But Wisdom lacketh sons like those that were, +And Sleep hath never an interpreter: +So there be none that know to read aright +The riddles he propoundeth every night. + + And verily, of all the wondrous things +By potence wrought of mortal visionings +In that dark house whereof Sleep hath the keys-- +Of suchlike miracles and mysteries +Not least, meseems, is this among them all: +That one in dream enamoured should fall, +And ever afterward, in waking thought, +Worship the phantom which the dream hath brought. +Howbeit such things have been, and in such wise +Did that king's son behold, with mortal eyes, +A more than mortal loveliness, and thus +Was stricken through with love miraculous. + + For evermore thereafter he did seem +To see that royal maiden of his dream +Unto her palace riding sovranly; +And much he marvelled where that land might be +That basking lay beneath her beauty's beams, +Well knowing in his heart that suchlike dreams +Come not in idleness but evermore +Are Fate's veiled heralds that do fly before +Their mighty master as he journeyeth, +And sing strange songs of life and love and death. +And so he did scarce aught but dream all day +Of that far land revealed of sleep, that lay +He knew not where; and musing more and more +On her the mistress of that unknown shore, +There fell a sadness on him, thus to be +Vext with desire of her he might not see +Yet could not choose but long for; till erewhile +Nor man nor woman might behold the smile +Make sudden morning of his countenance, +But likest one he seemed half-sunk, in trance, +That wanders groping in a shadowy land, +Hearing strange things that none can understand. +Now after many days and nights had passed, +The queen, his mother well-beloved, at last, +Being sad at heart because his heart was sad, +Would e'en be told what hidden cause he had +To be cast down in so mysterious wise: +And he, beholding by her tearful eyes +How of his grief she was compassionate, +No more a secret made thereof, but straight +Discovered to her all about his dream-- +The mystic happy marvel of the stream. +A fountain running Youth to all the land; +Flowing with deep dim woods on either hand +Where through the boughs did birds of strange song flit: +And all beside the bloomy banks of it +The city with its towers and domes far-seen. +And then he told her how that city's queen +Did pass before him like a breathing flower, +That he had loved her image from that hour. +"And sure am I," upspake the Prince at last, +"That somewhere in this world so wide and vast +Lieth the land mine eyes have inly seen;-- +Perhaps in very truth my spirit hath been +Translated thither, and in very truth +Hath seen the brightness of that city of youth. +Who knows?--for I have heard a wise man say +How that in sleep the souls of mortals may, +At certain seasons which the stars decree, +From bondage of the body be set free +To visit farthest countries, and be borne +Back to their fleshly houses ere the morn." + + At this the good queen, greatly marvelling, +Made haste to tell the story to the king; +Who hearing laughed her tale to scorn. But when +Weeks followed one another, and all men +About his person had begun to say +"What ails our Prince? He groweth day by day +Less like the Prince we knew ... wan cheeks, and eyes +Hollow for lack of sleep, and secret sighs.... +Some hidden grief the youth must surely have,"-- +Then like his queen the king himself wox grave; +And thus it chanced one summer eventide, +They sitting in an arbour side by side, +All unawares the Pince passed by that way, +And as he passed, unmark'd of either--they +Nought heeding but their own discourse--could hear +Amidst thereof his own name uttered clear, +And straight was 'ware it was the queen who spake, +And spake of him; whereat the king 'gan make +Answer in this wise, somewhat angerly: +"The youth is crazed, and but one remedy +Know I, to cure such madness--he shall wed +Some princess; ere another day be sped, +Myself will bid this dreamer go prepare +To take whom I shall choose to wife; some fair +And highborn maiden, worthy to be queen +Hereafter."--So the Prince, albeit unseen, +Heard, and his soul rebelled against the thing +His sire had willed; and slowly wandering +About the darkling pleasance--all amid +A maze of intertangled walks, or hid +In cedarn glooms, or where mysterious bowers +Were heavy with the breath of drowsèd flowers-- +Something, he knew not what, within his heart +Rose like a faint-heard voice and said "Depart +From hence and follow where thy dream shall lead." +And fain would he have followed it indeed, +But wist not whither it would have him go. + + Howbeit, while yet he wandered to and fro, +Among his thoughts a chance remembrance leapt +All sudden--like a seed, that long hath slept +In earth, upspringing as a flower at last, +When he that sowed forgetteth where 'twas cast; +A chance remembrance of the tales men told +Concerning one whose wisdom manifold +Made all the world to wonder and revere-- +A mighty mage and learn'd astrologer +Who dwelt in honour at a great king's court +In a far country, whither did resort +Pilgrims innumerable from many lands, +Who crossed the wide seas and the desert sands +To learn of him the occult significance +Of some perplexing omen, or perchance +To hear forewhisperings of their destiny +And know what things in aftertime should be. +"Now surely," thought the Prince, "this subtile seer, +To whom the darkest things belike are clear, +Could read the riddle of my dream and tell +Where lieth that strange land delectable +Wherein mine empress hath her dwelling-place. +So might I look at last upon her face, +And make an end of all these weary sighs, +And melt into the shadow of her eyes!" +Thus musing, for a little space he stood +As holden to the spot; and evil, good, +Life, death, and earth beneath and heaven above, +Shrank up to less than shadows,--only Love, +With harpings of an hundred harps unseen, +Filled all the emptiness where these had been. + + But soon, like one that hath a sudden thought, +He lifted up his eyes, and turning sought +The halls once more where he was bred, and passed +Through court and corridor, and reached at last +His chamber, in a world of glimmer and gloom. +Here, while the moonrays filled the wide rich room, +The Prince in haste put off his courtly dress +For raiment of a lesser sumptuousness +(A sober habit such as might disguise +His royal rank in any stranger's eyes) +And taking in his hand three gems that made +Three several splendours in the moonlight, laid +These in his bosom, where no eye might see +The triple radiance; then all noiselessly +Down the wide stair from creaking floor to floor +Passed, and went out from the great palace-door. + + Crossing the spacious breadth of garden ground, +Wherein his footfalls were the only sound +Save the wind's wooing of the tremulous trees, +Forth of that region of imperial ease +He fared, amid the doubtful shadows dim, +No eye in all the place beholding him; +No eye, save only of the warders, who +Opened the gates that he might pass therethrough. + + And now to the safe-keeping of the night +Intrusted he the knowledge of his flight; +And quitting all the purlieus of the court, +Out from the city by a secret port +Went, and along the moonlit highway sped. +And himself spake unto himself and said +(Heard only of the silence in his heart) +"Tarry thou here no longer, but depart +Unto the land of the Great Mage; and seek +The Mage; and whatsoever he shall speak, +Give ear to that he saith, and reverent heed; +And wheresoever he may bid thee speed, +Thitherward thou shalt set thy face and go. +For surely one of so great lore must know +Where lies the land thou sawest in thy dream: +Nay, if he know not that,--why, then I deem +The wisdom of exceeding little worth +That reads the heavens but cannot read the earth." + + +PART THE THIRD + + So without rest or tarriance all that night, +Until the world was blear with coming light, +Forth fared the princely fugitive, nor stayed +His wearied feet till morn returning made +Some village all a-hum with wakeful stir; +And from that place the royal wayfarer +Went ever faster on and yet more fast, +Till, ere the noontide sultriness was past, +Upon his ear the burden of the seas +Came dreamlike, heard upon a cool fresh breeze +That tempered gratefully a fervent sky. +And many an hour ere sundown he drew nigh +A fair-built seaport, warder of the land +And watcher of the wave, with odours fanned +Of green fields and of blue from either side;-- +A pleasant place, wherein he might abide, +Unknown of man or woman, till such time +As any ship should sail to that far clime +Where lived the famous great astrologer. + + Entered within its gates, a wanderer +Besoiled with dust and no-wise richly drest, +Yet therewithal a prince and princeliest +Of princes, with the press of motley folk +He mixed unheeded and unknown, nor spoke +To any, no man speaking unto him, +But, being wearied sore in every limb, +Sought out a goodly hostel where he might +Rest him and eat and tarry for the night: +And having eaten he arose and passed +Down to the wharves where many a sail and mast +Showed fiery-dark against the setting sun: +There, holding talk with whom he chanced upon, +In that same hour by great good hap he found +The master of a vessel outward-bound +Upon the morrow for that selfsame port +Whither he sought to go (where dwelt at court +The mage deep-read in starry charact'ry). +An honest man and pleasant-tongued was he, +This worthy master-mariner; and since +He had no scorn of well-got gain, the Prince +Agreed to pay him certain sums in gold, +And go aboard his vessel, ere were told +Two hours of sunlight on the coming day; +And thus agreed they wended each his way, +For the dusk hour was nigh, and all the West +Lay emptied of its sun. But as he pressed +Up the long seaward-sloping street that ran +Through half the town, the Prince sought out a man +Who dealt in pearls and diamonds and all +Manner of stones which men do precious call; +To whom the least of his three gems he sold +For a great price, and laden with the gold +Forthwith returned unto his hostelry +And dreamed all night of seaports and the sea. + + Early the morrow-morn, a fair soft gale +Blowing from overland, the ship set sail +At turning of the tide; and from her deck +The Prince gazed till the town was but a speck, +And all the shore became a memory: +And still he gazed, though more he might not see +Than the wide waters and the great wide sky. +And many a long unchangeful day went by +Ere land was sighted, but at length uprose +A doubtful dusky something, toward the close +Of the last hour before one sultry noon: +Most like an isle of cloud it seemed, but soon +The sailors knew it for the wishèd strand, +And ere the evenfall they reached the land, +And that same night the royal wanderer lay +In a strange city, amid strange folk, till Day +Rose from the dim sea's lap and with his wings +Fanned into wakefulness all breathing things. + + Then he uprose, but going forth that morn +A sadness came upon him, and forlorn +He felt within himself, and nowise light +Of heart: for all his lonely travel might +Prove void and fruitless and of no avail, +(Thus pondered he) and should it wholly fail, +What then were left him for to do? Return +To his own country, that his kin might learn +To know him duped and fooled of fantasies, +Blown hither and thither by an idle breeze +From Dreamland? Or in lieu, perchance, of this, +Wander unresting, reft of hope and bliss, +A mariner on a sea that hath no coast, +Seeking a shade, himself a shade, and lost +In shadows, as a wave is lost i' the sea. + + Thus in a heart not lightsome pondered he, +And roamed from unfamiliar street to street, +Much marvelling that all he chanced to meet +Showed faces troubled as his own: for some +Did weep outright, and over all a gloom +Hung, as a cloud that blotteth out the sun. +Wherefore the Prince addressed him unto one +Of sadder visage even than the rest, +Who, ever as he walked, or beat his breast +Or groaned aloud or with his fingers rent +His robe, and, being besought to say what meant +This look of rue on all men's faces, cried +In loud amazement, "What, can any abide +Within this city, having ears to hear, +Yet know not how this morn the mighty seer +Hath died and left the land all desolate? +For now, when sudden ills befall the state, +There will be none to warn or prophesy +As he, but when calamities are nigh +No man will know till they be come and we +Be all undone together, woe is me!" + + Thus ended he his outcry and again +Passed on his way and mixed with other men +Scarce joyfuller than he, if less they spake. +Meanwhile upon the Prince's heart there brake +Grief like a bitter wind, beneath whose breath +Hope paled and sickened well-nigh unto death: +For lo, those dumb and formless fears that came +Within his heart that morn, and, like a flame +That flickers long and dimly ere it die, +Tarried and would not pass, but fitfully +Flickered and flared and paled and flared again,-- +Lo, those mysterious messengers of pain, +Dumb formless fears, were they not verified? +And lo, that voyage o'er the waters wide, +Was it not vain and a most empty thing? +And what might now the years avail to bring, +But hopes that barren live and barren die? + + Thus did his heart with many an inward sigh +Ask of itself, though answer there was none +To be returned: and so the day, begun +Tristfully, trailed an ever wearier wing; +Till toward night another questioning +Like a strange voice from far beset his soul: +And as a low wind wails for very dole +About a tarn whereof the listless wave +Maketh no answer to its plaining, save +A sound that seems the phantom of its own, +So that low voice making unbidden moan +No answer got, saving the many sighs +Its echoes; and in this reproachful wise, +Heaping new pain on him disconsolate, +The low voice spake and spake, importunate: +_O Prince that wast and wanderer that art, +Say doth love live within thy hidden heart +(Love born of dream but nurtured wakingly) +Ev'n as that Once when thy soul's eyes did see +Love's visible self, and worshipt? Or hast thou +Fall'n from thy faith in Her and Love ere now, +And is thy passion as a robe outworn? +Nay, love forbid! Yet wherefore art thou lorn +Of hope and peace if Love be still thine own? +For, were the wondrous vision thou hast known +Indeed Love's voice and Fate's (which are the same) +Then, even as surely as the vision came, +So surely shall it be fulfilled, if faith +Abide in thee; but if thy spirit saith +Treason of Love or Fate, and unbelief +House in thy heart, then surely shall swift grief +Find thee, and hope (that should be as a breath +Of song undying) shall even die the death, +And thou thyself the death-in-life shalt see, +O Prince that wast, O wanderer that shalt be!_ + + So spake the Voice. And in the pauses of +That secret Voice, there 'gan to wake and move, +Deep in his heart, a thing of blackest ill-- +The shapeless shadow men call Doubt, until +That hour all unacquainted with his soul: +And being tormented sore of this new dole, +There came on him a longing to explore +That sleep-discovered flowery land once more, +Isled in the dark of the soul; for he did deem +That were he once again to dream The Dream, +His faith new-stablished would stand, and be +No longer vext of this infirmity. +And so that night, ere lying down to sleep, +There came on him, half making him to weep +And half to laugh that such a thing should be, +A mad conceit and antic fantasy +(And yet more sad than merry was the whim) +To crave this boon of Sleep, beseeching him +To send the dream of dreams most coveted. +And ere he lay him down upon his bed, +A soft sweet song was born within his thought; +But if he sang the song, or if 'twas nought +But the soul's longing whispered to the soul, +Himself knew hardly, while the passion stole +From that still depth where passion lieth prone, +And voiced itself in this-like monotone: + +"O Sleep, thou hollow sea, thou soundless sea, +Dull-breaking on the shores of haunted lands, +Lo, I am thine: do what thou wilt with me. + +But while, as yet unbounden of thy bands, +I hear the breeze from inland chide and chafe +Along the margin of thy muttering sands, + +Somewhat I fain would crave, if thou vouchsafe +To hear mine asking, and to heed wilt deign. +Behold, I come to fling me as a waif + +Upon thy waters, O thou murmuring main! +So on some wasteful island cast not me, +Where phantom winds to phantom skies complain, + +And creeping terrors crawl from out the sea, +(For such thou hast)--but o'er thy waves not cold +Bear me to yonder land once more, where She + +Sits throned amidst of magic wealth untold: +Golden her palace, golden all her hair, +Golden her city 'neath a heaven of gold! + +So may I see in dreams her tresses fair +Down-falling, as a wave of sunlight rests +On some white cloud, about her shoulders bare, +Nigh to the snowdrifts twain which are her breasts." + + So ran the song,--say rather, so did creep, +With drowsy faltering feet unsure, till Sleep +Himself made end of it, with no rude touch +Sealing the lips that babbled overmuch. +Howbeit the boon of boons most coveted +Withholden was, and in that vision's stead +Another Dream from its dim hold uprose, +Which he who tells the tale shall straight disclose. + + +PART THE FOURTH + + That night he dreamed that over him there stole +A change miraculous, whereby his soul +Was parted from his body for a space, +And through a labyrinth of secret ways +Entered the world where dead men's ghosts abide +To seek the Seer who yestermorn had died. +And there in very truth he found the Seer, +Who gazing on him said, "What would'st thou here, +O royal-born, who visitest the coasts +Of darkness, and the dwellings of the ghosts?" + + Then said the Prince, "I fain would know to find +The land as yet untrod of mortal-kind +Which I beheld by gracious leave of Sleep." +To whom the Spirit: "O Prince, the seas are deep +And very wide betwixt thee and that land, +And who shall say how many days do stand, +As dim-seen armed hosts between thy bliss +And thee?--Moreover, in the world there is +A certain Emerald Stone which some do call +The Emerald of the Virtues Mystical; +(Though what those Virtues Mystical may be +None living knows) and since, O youth, to me +Thou dost apply for counsel, be it known +Except thou have this wondrous emerald stone, +Go seek through all the world, thou shalt not find +The land thou wouldst: but like the houseless wind +That roams the world to seek a resting-place, +Thou through inhospitable time and space +Shalt roam, till time and space deliver thee, +To spaceless, timeless, mute eternity. + + "For in a certain land there once did dwell +(How long ago it needs not I should tell) +At the king's court a great astrologer, +Ev'n such as erst was I, but mightier +And far excelling; and it came to pass +That he fell sick; and very old he was; +And knowing that his end was nigh, he said +To him that sat in sorrow by his bed, +'O master well-beloved and matchless king, +Take thou and keep this lowly offering +In memory of thy servant;' whereupon +The king perceived it was a gem that shone +Like the sea's heart: and on one side of it +This legend in an unknown tongue was writ-- +_Who holdeth Me may go where none hath fared +Before, and none shall follow afterward._ +So the king took the bright green stone betwixt +His fingers, and upon the legend fixed +His eyes, and said unto the dying Seer, +'Now who shall render this dark scripture clear +That I may know the meaning of the gift?' +And the mage oped his mouth and strove to lift +His voice, but could not, for the wishèd word +Clave to his rattling throat, that no man heard: +Whereby the soul, departing, bore away +From all men living, even to this day, +The secret. And the jewel hath passed down +Seven times from sire to son, and in the crown +It shineth of that country's kings, being called +Ev'n to this day the mystic emerald; +But no man liveth in the world, of wit +To read the writing that is on it writ." + + "O Master," said the Prince, "and wilt not thou +Instruct me where to find the king who now +Weareth the jewel in his diadem?" +To whom the Spirit, "O youth, and if the gem +Be worth the finding, is't not also worth +The little pain of seeking through the earth?-- +Yet so thou may'st not wander witlessly, +Look thou forget not this I tell to thee: +When in thy journeyings thou shalt dream once more +The fateful dream thou haddest heretofore, +That filled thy veins with longing as with wine, +Till all thy being brimm'd over--by that sign +Thou mayest know thyself at last to be +Within the borders of his empery +Who hath the mystic emerald stone, whose gleam +Shall light thee to the country of thy dream." + + "But," said the Prince, "When all the world's highways +My feet have trod, till after length of days +I reach the land where lies the wondrous stone, +How shall I make so rare a, thing mine own? +For had I riches more than could be told, +What king would sell his jewels for my gold?" +And on this wise the answer of the Seer +Fell in the hollow of his dreaming ear: +"Behold this Iron Chain,--of power it is +To heal all manner of mortal maladies +In him that wears it round his neck but once, +Between the sun's downgoing and the sun's +Uprising: take it thou, and hold it fast +Until by seeking long thou find at last +The king that hath the mystic emerald stone: +And having found him, thou shalt e'en make known +The virtues lodged within this charmed chain: +Which when the king doth hear he will be fain +To have possession of so strange a thing; +And thou shalt make a bargain with the king +To give the Iron Chain in bartery +For that mysterious jewel whereof he +Knows not the secret worth. And when at last +The emerald stone in thy own hands thou hast, +Itself shall guide thee whither thou would'st go-- +Ev'n to the land revealed of sleep, where no +Grief comes to mar their music, neither sound +Of sighing, while the golden years go round." + + So spake the Spirit unto him that dreamed, +And suddenly that world of shadow seemed +More shadowy; and all things began to blend +Together: and the dream was at an end. + + Then slept the Prince a deep sweet sleep that knew +Nor dream nor vision; till the dawnlight grew +Up, and his soul a sudden halt did make +About the confines dim of sleep and wake, +Where wandering lights and wildered shadows meet. +But presently uprising to his feet +From tarriance in that frontier-region dim, +Exceeding wonderment laid hold on him; +For even while from off his bed he rose, +He heard a clinking as of metal, close +Thereby, and could in no-wise understand: +And lo the Iron Chain was in his hand! + + +PART THE FIFTH + + So, being risen, the Prince in brief while went +Forth to the market-place, where babblement +Of them that bought and them that sold was one +Of many sounds in murmurous union-- +buzzing as of bees about their hives, +With shriller gossiping of garrulous wives +Piping a tuneless treble thereunto: +In midst whereof he went his way as who +Looketh about him well before he buys, +To mark the manner of their merchandise; +Till chancing upon one who cried for sale +A horse, and seeing it well-limb'd and hale, +And therewithal right goodly to behold, +He bought the beast and paid the man in gold, +And having gotten him the needful gear +Rode from the market, nothing loth to hear +Its garrulous wives no longer, and the din +Of them that daily bought and sold therein. +So from the place he passed, and slowly down +Street after street betook him till the town +Behind him and the gates before him were, +And all without was cornland greenly fair. + + And through the cornland wending many a mile, +And through the meadowland, he came erewhile +To where the highways parted, and no man +Was nigh to tell him whitherward they ran; +But while he halted all in doubtful mood, +An eagle, as if mourning for her brood +Stolen, above him sped with rueful cry; +And when that he perceived the fowl to fly +Plaining aloud, unto himself he said, +"Now shall yon mournful mother overhead +Instruct the wandering of my feet, and they +Shall follow where she leadeth:" and away +The bird went winging westward clamorously, +That westward even in her wake went he. +And it may be that in his heart there stirred +Some feeling as of fellowship with the bird; +For he, like her, was bound on a lone quest; +And for his feet, as for her wings, no rest +Might be, but only urgence of desire, +And one far goal that seemed not ever nigher. + + So through that country wended he his way, +Resting anights, till on the seventh day +He passed unwares into another land, +Whose people's speech he could not understand-- +A tract o'er-run with tribes barbarian, +And blood-red from the strife of man with man: +And truly 'twas a thing miraculous +That one should traverse all that rude land thus, +And no man rid him of his gold, nor raise +A hand to make abridgment of his days; +But there was that about him could make men's +Hearts, ere they knew it, yield him reverence,-- +Perchance a sovran something in his eye, +Whereat the fierce heart failed, it wist not why;-- +Perchance that Fate which (hovering like a doubt +Athwart his being) hemmed him round about, +Gloomed as a visible shadow across his way, +And made men fearful. Be this as it may, +No harm befell him in that land, and so +He came at last to where the ebb and flow +Of other seas than he had wandered o'er +Upflung to landward an attempered roar; +And wandering downward to the beach, he clomb +To topmost of a tall grey cliff, wherefrom +He saw a smoke as of men's houses, far +Off, from a jutting point peninsular +Uprising: whence he deemed that there a town +Must surely be. And so he clambered down +The cliff, and getting him again to horse +Thither along the seabound held his course, +And reached that city about sunset-tide +The smoking of whose hearths he had espied. + + There at an hostel rested he, and there +Tarried the coming of the morn. But ere +He fell asleep that night, a wandering thought, +Through darkling byeways of the spirit brought, +Knock'd at his soul for entrance, whispering low +"What if to-night thou dream The Dream, and know +To-morrow, when thou wakest from that bliss, +The land wherein thou liest to be his +Who hath the mystic jewel in his keep?" +So, full of flattering hope he fell asleep, +And sleeping dreamed, but dreamed not that he would: +For at one time it seemed as if he stood +Alone upon a sterile neck of land, +Where round about him upon either hand +Was darkness, and the cry of a dark sea, +And worldwide vapours glooming thunderously; +And ever as he stood, the unstable ground +Slid from beneath his feet with a great sound, +Till he could find no foothold anywhere +That seemed not unsubstantial as the air. +At otherwhiles he wandered all alone +About a lonely land, and heard a moan +As of some bird that sang and singing grieved; +And peering all about the woods thick-leaved +If so he might espy the bird, he found +At length, after long searching, that the sound +Even from the bottom of his own heart came, +And unawares his own mouth sang the same. +And then in dream 'twas like as years went by, +And still he journeyed, hardly knowing why, +Till at the last a mist about him fell, +And if the mist were death he could not tell, +For after that he knew no more. And so +He slept until the cock began to crow. + + Then came the gladful morn, that sendeth sick +Dreams flying, and all shapes melà ncholic +That vex the slumbers of the love-distraught. +Unto his heart the merry morning brought +Cheer, and forewhisperings of some far-off rest, +When he should end in sweet that bitter quest. +But going forth that morn, and with his feet +Threading the murmurous maze of street and street, +All strangely fell upon him everywhere +The things he saw and heard of foul or fair. +The thronging of the folk that filled the ways; +The hubbub of the street and market-place; +The sound of heavy wain-wheels on the stones; +The comely faces and ill-favoured ones; +The girls with apple-cheeks and hair of gold; +The grey locks and the wrinkles of the old;-- +All these remote and unfamiliar +Seem'd, and himself a something from afar, +Looking at men as shadows on the wall +And even the veriest shadow among them all. + + But now when all things dreamwise seemed to swim +About the dubious eyes and ears of him, +That nothing in the world might be believed, +It chanced that on a sudden he perceived +Where one that dealt in jewels sat within +His doorway, hearkening to the outer din, +As who cared no-wise to make fast his ears +Against the babble of the street-farers: +Whereat the merchant, seeing a stranger pass, +Guessed by his garb what countryman he was, +And giving him good-day right courteously +Bespake him in his mother-tongue; for he +Had wandered in his youth o'er distant seas +And knew full many lands and languages. +Wherefore with him the royal stranger fell +To talking cheerly, and besought him tell +Whence all his gems were had and costly things, +Talismans, amulets, and charmèd rings: +Whereto the other answered, They had come +Some from a country not far hence, and some +From out a land a thousand leagues away +To eastward, ev'n the birthplace of the Day, +The region of the sun's nativity; +And giving ear to this right readily +The Prince would fain be told of him the way +To that far homeland of the youngling Day. +So, being ask'd, the other answered, "Sir, +There liveth but one master-mariner +Whose ship hath sailed so far: and that is he +Who hither brought the jewels thou dost see. +And now, as luck will have it for the nonce, +He wills to voyage thitherward but once +Before he die--for he is old like me-- +And even this day se'nnight saileth he. +Wherefore if thou be fain to see that land, +There needeth only gold within thy hand: +For gold, if that it jingle true and clear, +Hath still a merry music for man's ear, +And where is he that hateth sound of it?" +So saying, the merchant bade the stranger sit, +But the Prince thanked him for his courtesy, +And went his way. And that day se'nnight he +Was sailing toward the far-off morningland, +And felt the skies about him like a band, +And heard the low wind uttering numerous noise, +And all the great sea singing as one voice. + + +PART THE SIXTH + + Even as one voice the great sea sang. From out +The green heart of the waters round about, +Welled as a bubbling fountain silverly +The overflowing song of the great sea; +Until the Prince, by dint of listening long, +Divined the purport of that mystic song; +(For so do all things breathe articulate breath +Into his ears who rightly harkeneth) +And, if indeed he heard that harmony +Aright, in this wise came the song of the sea: + +"Behold all ye that stricken of love do lie, +Wherefore in manacles of a maiden's eye +Lead ye the life of bondmen and of slaves? +Lo in the caverns and the depths of Me +A thousand mermaids dwell beneath the waves: +A thousand maidens meet for love have I, +Ev'n I the virgin-hearted cold chaste sea. +Behold all ye that weary of life do lie, +There is no rest at all beneath the sky +Save in the nethermost deepness of the deep. +Only the silence and the midst of Me +Can still the sleepless soul that fain would sleep; +For such, a cool death and a sweet have I, +Ev'n I the crystal-hearted cool sweet sea. +Behold all ye that in my lap do lie, +To love is sweet and sweeter still to die, +And woe to him that laugheth me to scorn! +Lo in a little while the anger of Me +Shall make him mourn the day that he was born: +For in mine hour of wrath no ruth have I, +Ev'n I the tempest-hearted pitiless sea." + + So sang the waters, if indeed 'twere they +That sang unto the Prince's ears that day, +Since in the ship was not a soul besides +Could hear that burden of the voiceful tides; +For when he told the sailors of this thing, +And ev'n what words the waters seemed to sing, +They stared astonishment, and some, that had +More churlish souls than others, held him mad, +And laughed before his face outright. But when +The captain heard the gossip of his men +Touching this marvel, the strange news begot +No merry mood in him, who wist not what +Should be the meaning of the miracle, +Nor whether 'twere an omen good or ill. +Wherefore the old seafarer--having heard +The tale retold with many an afterword +The mariners' own most fruitful wit supplied +To grace the telling--took the Prince aside, +And ask'd him sundry questions privily +Concerning this same singing of the sea. +So the Prince told him all there was to tell, +And when that he had heard, the old man fell +To meditating much, and shook his head +As one exceeding ill at ease, and said, +"I doubt the singing thou hast heard was no +Voice of the waters billowing below, +But rather of some evil spirit near, +Who sought with singing to beguile thine ear, +Spreading a snare to catch the soul of thee +In meshes of entangling melody, +Which taketh captive the weak minds of men. +Therefore if thou should'st hear the sound again, +Look thou content thee not with hearkening, +But cast thine eyes around, and mark what thing +Thou seëst, and let no man know but me." + + So spake the white-haired wanderer of the sea. +And on the morrow--when the sealine grew +O'erhazed with visible heat, and no wind blew, +And the half-stifled morning dropt aswoon +Into the panting bosom of the noon-- +There came into the Prince's ears anew +The song that yestermorn had hearkened to. +And lifting up his eyes in hope to see +What lips they were that made such melody +And filled him with the fulness of their sound, +He saw the sun at highest of his round +Show as a shield with one dark bloodstain blurred, +By reason of the body of some great bird +Like to an eagle, with wide wings outspread, +Athwart the sunfire hovering duskly red. +So to the master of the ship he told +What he had witnessed, bidding him behold +The marvel with his own eyes if he would; +Who, though he strained his vision all he could, +Yet might not once endure to look the sun +I' the face; and calling to him one by one +The whole ship's crew, he bade each mariner look +Sunward who could, but no man's eyes might brook +The glare upon them of the noontide rays +And lidless fervour of that golden gaze: +So none of them beheld the bodeful bird. + + Then said the greybeard captain, hardly heard +Amid the babble of voices great and small, +"The bird thou seëst is no bird at all, +But some unholy spirit in guise of one; +And I do fear that we are all undone +If any amongst us hearken to its voice;-- +For of its mouth, I doubt not, was the noise +Thou heardest as of dulcet carolling, +When at thine ear the waters seemed to sing." + + And truly, many a wiser man than he +Herein had farther strayed from verity; +For that great bird that seemed to fan the sun's +Face with its wings was even the same as once +Flew screaming westward o'er the Prince's head, +Beguiling him to follow where it fled. +And bird it was not, but a spirit of ill, +Man-hating, and of mankind hated still, +And slave to one yet mightier demon-sprite +Whose dwelling is the shadow of the night. + + So the days passed, and always on the next +The bird-sprite like a baleful vision vexed +The happy-hearted sunlight; and each time +Its false sweet song was wedded to the rhyme +And chime of wind and wave--although it dropped +As honey changed to music--the Prince stopped +His ears, and would not hear; and so the Sprite, +Seeing his charmèd songcraft of no might +Him to ensnare who hearkened not at all, +On the tenth day with dreadful noise let fall +A tempest shaken from the wings of him, +Whereat the eyes of heaven wox thunderous-dim, +Till the day-darkness blinded them, and fell +Holding the world in night unseasonable. +And from his beakèd mouth the demon blew +A breath as of a hundred winds, and flew +Downward aswoop upon the labouring bark, +And, covered of the blear untimely Dark, +Clutch'd with his gripple claws the Prince his prey, +And backward through the tempest soared away, +Bearing that royal burden; and his eyes +Were wandering wells of lightning to the skies. + + Long time the Prince was held in swound, and knew +Nor outer world nor inner, as they flew +From darkness unto darkness; till at last-- +The fierce flight over, and his body cast +Somewhere alone in a strange place--the life +Stirred in him faintly, as at feeble strife +With covetous Death for ownership of him. +And 'fore his eyes the world began to swim +All vague, and doubtful as a dream that lies +Folded within another, petal-wise. +And therewithal himself but half believed +His own eyes' testimony, and perceived +The things that were about him as who hears +A distant music throbbing toward his ears +At noontide, in a flowery hollow of June, +And listens till he knows not if the tune +And he be one or twain, or near or far, +But only feels that sound and perfume are, +And tremulous light and leafy umbrage: so +The Prince beheld unknowing, nor fain to know. + + About him was a ruinous fair place, +Which Time, who still delighteth to abase +The highest, and throw down what men do build, +With splendid prideful barrenness had filled, +And dust of immemorial dreams, and breath +Of silence, which is next of kin to death. +A weedy wilderness it seemed, that was +In days forepast a garden, but the grass +Grew now where once the flowers, and hard by +A many-throated fountain had run dry +Which erst all day a web of rainbows wove +Out of the body of the sun its love. +And but a furlong's space beyond, there towered +In middest of that silent realm deflowered +A palace builded of black marble, whence +The shadow of a swart magnificence +Falling, upon the outer space begot +A dream of darkness when the night was not. +Which while the Prince beheld, a wonderment +Laid hold upon him, that he rose and went +Toward the palace-portico apace, +Thinking to read the riddle of the place. +And entering in (for open was the door) +From hall to hall he passed, from floor to floor, +Through all the spacious house, and (saving where +The subtile spider had his darksome lair) +No living creature could he find in it. +Howbeit, by certain writing that was writ +Upon the wall of one dark room and bare, +He guessed that some great sorcerer had there +Inhabited, a slave to his own lust +Of evil power and knowledge, till the dust +Received his dust, and darkness had his soul; +But ere death took him he had willed the whole +Of his possessions to a Spirit of Ill, +His sometime mate in commerce damnable, +Making him lord of that high house, wherein +The twain had sealed their covenant of sin. + + With that a horror smote the Prince, and fain +Would he have fled that evil spirit's domain +And shook its dust from off his feet that hour. +But from a window of the topmost tower +Viewing the dim-leaved wilderness without, +Full plainly he perceived it hemmed about +With waves, an island of the middle sea, +In watery barriers bound insuperably; +And human habitation saw he none, +Nor heard one bird a-singing in the sun +To lighten the intolerable stress +Of utter undisputed silentness. + + So by these signs he knew himself the thrall +Of that foul spirit unseen, and therewithal +Wholly unfellowed in captivity, +Bound round with fetters of the tyrannous sea. +And sick for very loneliness, he passed +Downward through galleries and chambers vast +To one wide hall wherefrom a vestibule +Opened into a dim green space and cool, +Where great trees grew that various fruitage bore +The like whereof he had not seen before, +And hard by was a well of water sweet; +And being anhungered he did pluck and eat +The strange fair fruit, and being athirst did drink +The water, and lay down beside the brink; +Till sleep, as one that droppeth from the skies, +Dropt down, and made a mist about his eyes. + + +PART THE SEVENTH + + But Sleep, who makes a mist about the sense, +Doth ope the eyelids of the soul, and thence +Lifteth a heavier cloud than that whereby +He veils the vision of the fleshly eye. +And not alone by dreams doth Sleep make known +The sealèd things and covert--not alone +In _visions_ of the night do mortals hear +The fatal feet and whispering wings draw near; +But dimly and in darkness doth the soul +Drink of the streams of slumber as they roll, +And win fine secrets from their waters deep: +Yea, of a truth, the spirit doth grow in sleep. + + Howbeit I know not whether as he slept +A voice from out the depth of dream upleapt +And whispered in his ear; or whether he +Grew to the knowledge blindly, as a tree +Waxes from bloom to fruitage, knowing not +The manner of its growth: but this I wot, +That rising from that sleep beside the spring +The Prince had knowledge of a certain thing +Whereof he had not wist until that hour-- +To wit, that two contending spirits had power +Over _his_ spirit, ruling him with sway +Altern; as 'twere dominion now of Day +And now of Dark; for one was of the light, +And one was of the blackness of the night. + + Now there be certain evil spirits whom +The mother of the darkness in her womb +Conceived ere darkness' self; and one of these +Did rule that island of the middle seas +Hemmed round with silence and enchantment dim. +Nothing in all the world so pleasured him +As filling human hearts with dolorousness +And banning where another sprite did bless; +But chiefly did his malice take delight +In thwarting lovers' hopes and breathing blight +Into the blossoms newly-openèd +Of sweet desire, till all of sweet were fled: +And (for he knew what secret hopes did fill +The minds of men) 'twas even now his will +To step between the Prince and his desire, +Nor suffer him to fare one furlong nigher +Unto that distant-shining golden goal +That beacon'd through the darkness to his soul. + + And so the days, the sultry summer days, +Went by, and wimpled over with fine haze +The noiseless nights stole after them, as steals +The moon-made shadow at some traveller's heels. +And day by day and night by night the Prince +Dwelt in that island of enchantment, since +The hour when Evil Hap, in likeness of +An eagle swooping from the clouds above, +Did bind him body and soul unto that place. +And in due time the summer waxed apace, +And in due time the summer waned: and now +The withered leaf had fallen from the bough, +And now the winter came and now the spring; +Yea, summer's self was toward on the wing +From wandering overseas: and all this while +The Prince abode in that enchanted isle, +Marvelling much at Fortune and her ways. + + And by degrees the slowly-sliding days +Gathered themselves together into years, +And oftentimes his spirit welled in tears +From dawn to darkness and from dark to dawn, +By reason of the light of life withdrawn. +And if the night brought sleep, a fitful sleep, +The phantoms of a buried time would creep +Out of their hollow hiding-places vast, +Peopling his Present from the wizard Past. +Sometimes between the whirl of dream and dream, +All in a doubtful middle-world, a gleam +Went shivering past him through the chill grey space, +And lo he knew it for his mother's face, +And wept; and all the silence where he stood +Wept with him. And at times the dreamer would +Dream himself back beneath his father's roof +At eventide, and there would hold aloof +In silence, clothed upon with shadows dim, +To hear if any spake concerning him; +But the hours came and went and went and came, +And no man's mouth did ever name his name. +And year by year he saw the queen and king +Wax older, and beheld a shadowy thing +Lurking behind them, till it came between +His dreamsight and the semblance of the queen, +From which time forth he saw her not: and when +Another year had been it came again, +And after that he saw his sire the king +No more, by reason of the shadowy thing +Stepping between; and all the place became +As darkness, and the echo of a name. + + * * * * * + + What need to loiter o'er the chronicle +Of days that brought no change? What boots it tell +The tale of hours whereof each moment was +As like its fellow as one blade of grass +Is to another, when the dew doth fall +Without respect of any amongst them all? +Enow that time in that enchanted air +Nor slept nor tarried more than otherwhere, +And so at last the captive lived to see +The fiftieth year of his captivity. +And on a day within that fiftieth year +He wandered down unto the beach, to hear +The breaking of the breakers on the shore, +As he had heard them ofttimes heretofore +In days when he would sit and watch the sea, +If peradventure there some ship might be. +But now his soul no longer yearned as then +To win her way back to the world of men: +For what could now his freedom profit him? +The hope that filled youth's beaker to its brim +The tremulous hand of age had long outspilled, +And whence might now the vessel be refilled? +Moreover, after length of days and years +The soul had ceased to beat her barriers, +And like a freeborn bird that cagèd sings +Had grown at last forgetful of her wings. + + And so he took his way toward the sea-- +Not, as in former days, if haply he +Might spy some ship upon the nether blue, +And beckon with his hands unto the crew, +But rather with an easeful heart to hear +What things the waves might whisper to his ear +Of counsel wise and comfortable speech. +But while he walked about the yellow beach, +There came upon his limbs an heaviness, +For languor of the sultry time's excess; +And so he lay him down under a tree +Hard by a little cove, and there the sea +Sang him to sleep. And sleeping thus, he dreamed +A dream of very wonderment: himseemed, +The spirit that half an hundred years before +In likeness of an eagle came and bore +His body to that island on a day, +Came yet again and found him where he lay, +And taking him betwixt his talons flew +O'er seas and far-off countries, till they drew +Nigh to a city that was built between +Four mountains in a pleasant land and green; +And there upon the highest mountain's top +The bird that was no bird at all let drop +Its burthen, and was seen of him no more. + + Thereat he waked, and issuing from the door +Of dream did marvel in his heart; because +He found he had but dreamed the thing that was: +For there, assuredly, was neither sea +Nor Isle Enchanted; and assuredly +He sat upon the peak of a great hill; +And far below him, looking strangely still, +Uptowered a city exceeding fair to ken, +And murmurous with multitude of men. + + +PART THE EIGHTH + + Now as it chanced, the day was almost spent +When down the lonely mountain-side he went, +The whitehaired man, the Prince that was; and ere +He won the silence of the valley where +The city's many towers uprose, the gate +Was closed against him, for the hour was late. +So even as they that have not wherewithal +To roof them from the rain if it should fall, +Upon the grassy ground this king's son lay, +And slept till nigh the coming of the day. + + But while as any vagabond he slept +Or outcast from the homes of men, there crept +Unto him lying in such sorry sort +A something fairer than the kingliest court +In all the peopled world had witness of-- +Even the shadow of the throne of Love, +That from a height beyond all height did creep +Along the pavement of the halls of sleep. +O fair and wonderful! that shadow was +The golden dream of dreams that came across +His youth, full half an hundred years before, +And sent him wandering through the world. Once more +In a lone boat that sails and oars had none, +Midmost a land of summer and the sun +Where nothing was that was not fair to see, +Adown a gliding river glided he, +And saw the city that was built thereby, +And saw the chariot of the queen draw nigh, +And gazed upon her in the goodly street; +Whereat he waked and rose upon his feet, +Remembering the Vision of the Seer, +And what the spirit spake unto his ear: +"When in thy wanderings thou shalt dream once more +The fateful dream thou haddest heretofore, +That filled thy veins with longing as with wine +Till all thy being brimm'd over--by that sign +Thou mayest know thyself at last to be +Within the borders of his empery +Who hath the mystic emerald stone, whose gleam +Shall light thee to the country of thy dream." + + Then rose the heart within his heart and said: +"O bitter scornful Fate, in days long dead +I asked and thou denied'st mine asking: now +The boon can no-wise profit me, and thou +Dost mock me with bestowal!" Thereupon +He fell to thinking of his youthhood gone, +And wept. For now the goal, the longtime-sought, +Was even at hand, "but how shall I," he thought, +"I that am old and sad and hoary-haired, +Enter the place for youth and love prepared? +For in my veins the wellspring of desire +Hath failed, and in mine heart the golden fire +Burneth no more for ever. I draw near +The night that is about our day, and hear +The sighing of the darkness as I go +Whose ancient secret there is none doth know." + + Ev'n so to his own heart he spake full sad, +And many and bitter were the thoughts he had +Of days that were and days that were to be. +But now the East was big with dawn, and he +Drew nigh the city-gates and entered in, +Ere yet the place remurmured with the din +Of voices and the tread of human feet; +And going up the void and silent street, +All in the chill gleam of the new-lit air, +A Thought found way into his soul, and there +Abode and grew, and in brief while became +Desire, and quickened to a quenchless flame: +And holding converse with himself, he said, +"Though in my heart the heart's desire be dead, +And can no more these time-stilled pulses move; +Though Death were lovelier to these eyes than Love +Yet would these eyes behold, or ere I pass, +The land that mirror'd lay as in a glass +In the deep wells of dream. And her that is +The sunlight of that city of all bliss, +Her would I fain see once with waking eyes +Whom sleep hath rendered unto vision twice. +And having seen her beauty I would go +My way, even to the river which doth flow +From daylight unto darkness and the place +Of silence, where the ghosts are face to face." + + So mused the man, and evermore his thought +Gave him no peace. Wherefore next morn he sought +The palace of the king, but on his way +Tarried till nigh the middle of the day +In talk with certain of the city-folk; +Whereby he learned, if that were true they spoke, +How that the king their lord was nigh distract +With torture of a strange disease that racked +Each day his anguished body more and more, +Setting at naught the leeches and their lore. +Which having heard he went before the king, +Who sat upon his throne, delivering +Judgment, his body pierced the while with pain. +And taking from his neck the charmèd chain +Which he had borne about him ever since +That morn miraculous, the unknown Prince +Upspake and said, "O king, I hold within +My hand a wonder-working medicine +Of power to make thee whole if thou wilt deign +So to be healèd;" and he held the chain +Aloft, and straightway told unto the king +The passing worth and wonder of the thing. + + Then he that heard stretched forth a hand that shook +With sudden fever of half-hope, and took +The chain, and turned it over in his hand +Until his eyes had left no link unscanned. +And on each separate link was character'd +A language that no living ear had heard, +Occult, of secret import, mystic, strange. +Then said the king, "What would'st thou in exchange +For this the magic metal thou dost bring?" +And the Prince answered him and said, "O king, +Even the emerald stone which some do call +The Emerald of the Virtues Mystical." +And they who thronged the hall of judgment were +Astonished at the stranger who could dare +Ask such a boon; and some base mouths did curl +With sneers, churl whispering to his fellow churl, +"Who could have deemed the man so covetous, +So void of shame in his great greed?" For thus +It shall be ever underneath the sun, +Each man believing that high hearts are none +Whose own is as the dust he treads on low. + + But the king answered saying, "Be it so. +To-night this chain of iron shall be worn +About my neck, and on the morrow-morn, +If all the pain have left these limbs of mine, +The guerdon thou demandest shall be thine. +But if this torment still tormenteth me, +Thy head and shoulders shall part company, +And both be cast uncoffin'd to the worms. +Open thy mouth and answer if these terms +Content thee." And aloud the Prince replied, +"With these conditions I am satisfied:" +Whereafter, rising from his knees, he went +Out from before the king, and was content. + + Next morning, when the king awoke, I wis +No heart was lighter in the land than his; +For all the grievous burden of his pains +Had fall'n from off his limbs, and in his veins +Upleapt the glad new life, and the sick soul +Seemed like its body all at once made whole. +But hardly was the king uprisen before +There knock'd and entered at the chamber-door +His chief physician (a right skilful leech, +But given to hollow trickeries of speech, +And artful ways and wiles) who said, "O king, +Be not deceived, I pray thee. One good thing +Comes of another, like from like. The weed +Beareth not lilies, neither do apes breed +Antelopes. Thou art healed of thy pain +Not by the wearing of an iron chain-- +An iron chain forsooth!"--(hereat he laughed +As 'twere a huge rare jest) "but by the draught +Which I prepared for thee with mine own hands +From certain precious simples grown in lands +It irks me tell how many leagues away: +Which medicine thou tookest yesterday." + + Then said the king, "O false and jealous man, +Who lovest better thine own praises than +Thy master's welfare! Little 'tis to such +As thou, that I should be made whole; but much +That men should go before thee, trumpeting +"'Behold the man that cured our lord the king.'" +And he was sore displeased and in no mood +To hearken. But the chief physician stood +Unmoved amid this hail of kingly scorn, +With meek face martyr-like, as who hath borne +Much in the name of Truth, and much can bear. +And from the mouth of him false words and fair +So cunningly flowed that in a little while +The royal frown became a royal smile, +And the king hearkened to the leech and was +Persuaded. So that morn it came to pass +That when the Prince appeared before the throne +To claim his rightful meed, the emerald stone, +The king denied his title to receive +The jewel, saying, "Think'st thou I believe +Yon jingling chain hath healed my body? Nay; +For whatsoever such as thou may say +I am not found so easy to beguile: +As for the gem thou wouldest, this good while +It hath adorned the crown I wear, nor shall +The stone be parted from the coronal." + + Scarce had the false king spoken when behold +Through the high ceiling's goodly fretted gold +A sudden shaft of lightning downward sped +And smote the golden crown upon his head, +Yea, melted ev'n as wax the golden crown. +And from the molten metal there fell down +A grassgreen Splendour, and the Emerald Stone +Tumbled from step to step before the throne, +And lay all moveless at the Prince's feet! +And the king sat upon his royal seat +A dead king, marble-mute: but no man stirred +Or spake: and only silence might be heard. + + Then he before whose feet the gem did lie +Said not a word to any man thereby, +But stooped and lifted it from off the floor, +And passing outward from the open door +Put the mysterious jewel in his breast +And went his way, none daring to molest +The stranger. For the whisper rose and ran, +"Is not the lightning leaguèd with this man?" + + +PART THE NINTH + + And passing through the city he went out +Into the fat fields lying thereabout, +And lo the spirit of the emerald stone +With secret influence to himself unknown +Guided the wandering of his errant feet, +The servants of the errant soul; and sweet +The meadows were, with babble of birds, and noise +Of brooks, the water's voice and the wind's voice. +Howbeit he gave small heed to any of them; +And now the subtile spirit of the gem +Led him along a winding way that ran +Beyond the fields to where the woods began +To spread green matwork for the mountains' feet; +A region where the Silence had her seat +And hearkened to the sounds that only she +Can hear--the fall of dew on herb and tree; +The voice of the growing of the grass; the night +Down-fluttering breathless from the heaven's height; +And autumn whispering unawares at times +Strange secrets and dark sayings, wrapt in rhymes +Wind-won from forest branches. At this place +The old man rested for a little space, +Forgetful that the day was wellnigh flown: +But soon the urgent spirit of the stone +Itself re-entered and possessed anew +His soul; and led thereby, and wandering through +A mile of trackless and untrodden ground, +By favour of the rising moon he found +A rude path, broken here and there by rills +Which crossed it as they hurried from the hills. +And going whitherso the wild path went, +A two hours' journeying brought him, wellnigh spent +With toiling upwards, to a mountain pass, +A bleak lone place where no trees grew nor grass, +But on each hand a peak of rock, high-reared, +Uprose: afar the two like horns appeared +Of some great beast, so tapering-tall they were. +And now with forward gaze the wanderer +Stood where the pass was highest and the track +Went downward both ways; and behind his back +The full moon shone, and lo before his face +The bright sea glimmered at the mountain's base. +It seemed, what way soever he might turn, +His fate still led him to that watery bourn. + + So journeying down the track which lay before, +He came, an hour past midnight, to the shore, +And, looking backward, far above espied +The two sharp peaks, one peak on either side +Of that lone pass; verily like a pair +Of monstrous horns, the tips far-seen, up there: +And in the nether space betwixt the two, +A single monstrous eye the moon shone through. + + Now all this while the spirit of the stone +Had led him forward, he, the old man lone, +Taking no thought of whither he was bound. +And roaming now along the beach he found +A creek, and in the creek, some little way +From where it joined the sea, a pinnace lay +Moored at the marge; and stepping thereinto, +He sat him down, and from his bosom drew +The mystic gem, and placed it at the prow, +That he might watch its paly splendours, how +They lightened here and there, and flashed aflame, +Mocked at the moon and put the stars to shame. +But hardly was the stone out of his hand, +When the boat wrenched her moorings from the land, +And swift as any captive bird set free +Shot o'er the shimmering surface of the sea, +The spirit of the emerald guiding her; +And for a time the old man could not stir +For very greatness of astonishment. + +But merrily o'er the moonlit waters went +The pinnace, till the land was out of sight, +Far in the dreaming distance. All that night, +Faster than ever wind in winter blew, +Faster than quarrel flies the bow, she flew. +A moment was a league in that wild flight +From vast to vast of ocean and the night. +And now the moon her lanthorn had withdrawn: +And now the pale weak heralds of the dawn +Lifted the lids of their blear eyes afar: +The last belated straggler of a star +Went home; and in her season due the morn +Brake on a cold and silent sea forlorn-- +A strange mute sea, where never wave hath stirred, +Nor sound of any wandering wind is heard, +Nor voice of sailors sailing merrily: +A sea untraversed, an enchanted sea +From all the world fate-folden; hemmed about +Of linkèd Dreams; encompassed with a Doubt. + + But not the less for lack of wind went she, +The flying pinnace, o'er that silent sea, +Till those dull waters of enchantment lay +Behind her many a league. And now her way +Was toward a shining tract of ocean, where +Low winds with bland breath flattered the mild air, +And low waves did together clasp and close, +And skyward yearning from the sea there rose +And seaward yearning from the sky there fell +A Spirit of Deep Content Unspeakable: +So midway meeting betwixt sky and sea, +These twain are married for eternity, +And rule the spirits of that Deep, and share +The lordship of the legions of the air. + + Here winds but came to rest them from their wars +With far seas waged. Here Darkness had her stars +Always, a nightly multitudinous birth. +And entering on this happier zone of earth, +The boat 'gan bate her speed, and by degrees +Tempered her motion to the tranquil seas, +As if she knew the land not far ahead, +The port not far: so forward piloted +By that sweet spirit and strong, she held her way +Unveering. And a little past midday, +The wanderer lifted up his eyes, and right +Before him saw what seemed a great wall, white +As alabaster, builded o'er the sea, +High as the heaven; but drawing nearer he +Perceived it was a mighty mist that lay +Upon the ocean, stretching far away +Northward and southward, and the sun appeared +Powerless to melt its mass. And while he neared +This cloudy barrier stretching north and south, +A tale once told him by his mother's mouth, +In childhood, while he sat upon her knee, +Rose to remembrance: _how that on the sea. +Sat somewhere a Great Mist which no sun's heat +Could melt, nor wind make wander from, its seat. +So great it was, the fastest ship would need +Seven days to compass it, with all her speed. +And they of deepest lore and wisest wit +Deemed that an island in the midst of it +Bloomed like a rosebush ring'd with snows, a place +Of pleasance, folded in that white embrace +And chill. But never yet would pilot steer +Into the fog that wrapped it round, for fear +Of running blindfold in that sightless mist +On sunken reefs whereof no mariner wist: +And so from all the world this happy isle +Lay hidden_. Thus the queen, long since; and while +He marvelled if the mist before his ken +Could be the same she told of--even then, +Hardly a furlong 'fore the pinnace' prow +It lay: and now 'twas hard at hand: and now +The boat had swept into the folds of it! +But all that vision of white darkness--lit +By the full splendour of the emerald stone +That from the forepart of the pinnace shone-- +Melted around her, as in sunder cleft +By that strong spirit of light; and there was left +A wandering space, behind her and before, +Of radiance, roofed and walled with mist, the floor +A liquid pavement large. And so she passed +Through twilight immemorial, and at last +Issued upon the other side, where lay +The land no mortal knew before that day. + + There wilding orchards faced the beach, and bare +All manner of delicious fruit and rare, +Such as in gardens of kings' palaces +Trembles upon the sultry-scented trees, +The soul of many sunbeams at its core. +Well-pleased the wanderer landed on this shore, +Beholding all its pleasantness, how sweet +And soft, to the tired soul, to the tired feet. +And so he sat him down beneath the boughs, +And there a low wind seemed to drone and drowse +Among the leaves as it were gone astray +And like to faint forwearied by the way; +Till the persistence of the sound begat +An heaviness within him as he sat: +So when Sleep chanced to come that way, he found +A captive not unwilling to be bound, +And on his body those fine fetters put +Wherewith he bindeth mortals hand and foot. + + When the tired sleeper oped again his eyes, +'Twas early morn, and he beheld the skies +Glowing from those deep hours of rest and dew +Wherein all creatures do themselves renew. +The laughing leaves blink'd in the sun, throughout +Those dewy realms of orchard thereabout; +But green fields lay beyond, and farther still, +Betwixt them and the sun, a great high hill +Kept these in shadow, and the brighter made +The fruitlands look for all that neighbouring shade. +And he the solitary man uprose, +His face toward the mountain beyond those +Fair fields not yet acquainted with the sun; +And crossed the fields, and climbed the hill, and won +The top; and journeying down the eastern side +Entered upon a grassy vale and wide, +Where in the midst a pure stream ran, as yet +A youngling, hardly able to forget +The lofty place of its nativity, +Nor lusting yet for union with the sea. +And through this valley, taking for his guide +The stream, and walking by the waterside, +He wandered on, but had at whiles to ford +The lesser brooks that from the mountains poured +Into this greater; which by slow degrees, +Enlarged with such continual soft increase, +Became a river broad and fair, but still +As clear as when it flowed a mountain-rill: +And he the wanderer wandering by that stream +Saw 'twas the river he had known in dream. + + So day by day he journeyed; and it chanced +One day he fared till night was well advanced +Ere lying down to sleep; and when he waked +Next morn, his bones and all his body ached, +And on his temples lay a weary heat, +And with sore pain he got upon his feet. +Yet when he rose and hard at hand espied +The City sloping to the riverside, +With bright white walls and golden port agleam, +Such as he saw them figured in the dream-- +Then the blood leapt as fire along his veins +And the o'erwearied limbs forgat their pains. +But when he strove to make what speed he might +Toward the happy haven full in sight, +The feet that would have hastened thereunto +Could not; and heavily, as old men do, +He fell to earth, and groaned aloud and said, +"Old man, what would'st thou, with thy silvered head, +Yonder, where all their tresses be as gold +Forever?--Thou art suffered to behold +The city of thy search: what wilt thou more? +Tarry thou here upon this river-shore; +Thou mightest farther go nor find the grass +Greener, whereon to lay thy head, and pass +Into the deep dark populous empty land." + + So spake the man, not able to withstand +This dumb remonstrance of the flesh, now first +Thwarting the soul. Howbeit a mighty thirst +Consumed him, and he crawled unto the brink +Of the clear stream hard by, that he might drink +One draught thereof, and with the water still +His deep desire. When lo a miracle! +No sooner had he drunken than his whole +Body was changed and did from crown to sole +The likeness of its youthful self put on, +The Prince of half-an-hundred years agone, +Wearing the very garments that he wore +What time his years were but a single score. + + Then he remembered how that in The Dream +One told him of the marvel of that stream, +Whose waters are a well of youth eterne. +And night and day its crystal heart doth yearn +To wed its youthhood with the sea's old age; +And faring on that bridal pilgrimage, +Its waters past the shining city are rolled, +And all the people drink and wax not old. + + +PART THE TENTH + + That night within the City of Youth there stood +Musicians playing to the multitude +On many a gold and silver instrument +Whose differing souls yet chimed in glad consent. +And sooth-tongued singers, throated like the bird +All darkness holds its breath to hear, were heard +Chanting aloud before the comely folk, +Chanting aloud till none-for listening spoke, +Chanting aloud that all the city rang; +And whoso will may hear the song they sang:-- + +I + + O happy hearts, O youths and damsels, pray +What new and wondrous thing hath chanced to-day, +O happy hearts, what wondrous thing and new? +Set the gold sun with kinglier-mightful glance, +Rose the maid-moon with queenlier countenance, +Came the stars forth a merrier madder crew, +Than ever sun or maiden-moon before, +Or jostling stars that shook the darkness' floor +With night-wide tremor 'neath their dizzy dance? + + Strong is the Sun, but strong alway was he; +The Moon is fair, but ever fair showed she; +The Stars are many, and who hath known them few? +As now they be, so heretofore were they: +What is the wondrous thing hath chanced to-day, +O happy hearts, the wondrous thing and new, +Whereof ye are glad together even more +Than of the sunlight or the moonlight or +The light o' the stars that strow the milky-way? + + For all your many maidens have the head +In goodly festal wise engarlanded, +With flowers at noon the banquet of the bees, +And leaves that in some grove at midday grew: +And ever since the falling of the dew +Your streets are full of pomps and pageantries, +Laughter and song, feasting and dancing:--nay, +Surely some wondrous thing hath chanced to-day; +O happy hearts, what wondrous thing and new? + +II + + No, no, ye need not answer any word! +Heard have we all--who lives and hath not heard?-- +What thing the sovran Fates have done to-day; +Who turn the tides of life which way they please, +And sit themselves aloft, aloof, at ease: +Dwellers in courts of marble silence they. +No need to ask what thing the Fates have done +Between the sunrise and the set of sun, +Mute-moving in their twilight fastnesses! + + Changeless, aloft, aloof, mute-moving, dim, +In ancient fastnesses of twilight--him +Have they not sent this day, the long-foretold, +The long-foretold and much-desired, of whom +'Twas whilom written in the rolls of doom +How in a dream he should this land behold, +And hither come from worldwide wandering, +Hither where all the folk should hail him king, +Our king foredestined from his mother's womb? + + Long time he tarried, but the time is past, +And he hath come ye waited for, at last: +The long-foretold, the much-desired, hath come. +And ye command your minstrels noise abroad +With lyre and tongue your joyance and his laud, +And, sooth to say, the minstrels are not dumb. +And ever in the pauses of our chant, +So for exceeding perfect joy ye pant, +We hear the beating of your hearts applaud! + +III + + And she our Queen--ah, who shall tell what hours +She bode his coming in her palace-towers, +Unmated she in all the land alone? +'Twas yours, O youths and maids, to clasp and kiss; +Desiring and desired ye had your bliss: +The Queen she sat upon her loveless throne. +Sleeping she saw his face, but could not find +Its phantom's phantom when she waked, nor wind +About her finger one gold hair of his. + + Often when evening sobered all the air, +No doubt but she would sit and marvel where +He tarried, by the bounds of what strange sea; +And peradventure look at intervals +Forth of the windows of her palace walls, +And watch the gloaming darken fount and tree; +And think on twilight shores, with dreaming caves +Full of the groping of bewildered waves, +Full of the murmur of their hollow halls. + + As flowers desire the kisses of the rain, +She his, and many a year desired in vain: +She waits no more who waited long enow. +Nor listeth he to wander any more +Who went as go the winds from sea to shore, +From shore to sea who went as the winds go. +The winds do seek a place of rest; the flowers +Look for the rain; but in a while the showers +Come, and the winds lie down, their wanderings o'er. + + + +ANGELO. + + Seven moons, new moons, had eastward set their horns +Averted from the sun; seven moons, old moons, +Westward their sun-averted horns had set; +Since Angelo had brought his young bride home, +Lucia, to queen it in his Tuscan halls. +And much the folk had marvelled on that day +Seeing the bride how young and fair she was, +How all unlike the groom; for she had known +Twenty and five soft summers woo the world, +He twice as many winters take 't by storm. +And in those half-an-hundred winters,--ay, +And in the summer's blaze, and blush of spring, + And pomp of grave and grandiose autumntides,-- +Full many a wind had beat upon his heart, +Of grief and frustrate hope full many a wind, +And rains full many, but no rains could damp +The fuel that was stored within; which lay +Unlighted, waiting for the tinder-touch, +Until a chance spark fall'n from Lucia's eyes +Kindled the fuel, and the fire was love: +Not such as rises blown upon the wind, +Goaded to flame by gusts of phantasy, +But still, and needing no replenishment, +Unquenchable, that would not be put out. + + Albeit the lady Lucia's bosom lacked +The ore had made her heart a richer mine +Than earth's auriferous heart unsunned; from her +Love went not out, in whom there was no love. +Cold from the first, her breast grew frore, and bit +Her kind lord's bosom with its stinging frost. +Because he loved the fields and forests, made +Few banquetings for highborn winebibbers, +Eschewed the city and led no sumptuous life, +She, courtly, sneered at his uncourtliness, +Deeming his manners of a bygone mode. +And for that he was gentle overmuch, +And overmuch forbearant, she despised, +Mocked, slighted, taunted him, and of her scorn +Made a sharp shaft to wound his life at will. +She filled her cup with hate and bade him drink, +And he returned it brimming o'er with love. + + And so seven moons had waxed and waned since these +Were wedded. And it chanced, one morn of Spring +Lucia bespake her spouse in even more +Ungentle wise than was her wont, and he, +For the first time, reproved her;--not as one +That having from another ta'en ill words +Will e'en cry quits and barter words as ill; +But liker as a father, whom his child +With insolent lips hath wounded, chides the child +Less than he knows it had been wise to do, +Saying within himself: "The time will come +When thou wilt think on thy dead father, how +Thou might'st have spoken gentlier unto him +One day, when yet thy father was alive: +So shall thy heart rebuke thy heart enow:"-- +Ev'n thus did Angelo reprove his wife. + + But though the words from his rough-bearded lips +Were like sweet water from the mouth of some +Rock-fountain hewn with elemental hands, +They fell as water cast i' the fire, to be +Consumed with hissing rage. Her wrath, let loose, +Blew to and fro, and hither and thither, like +A wind that seems to have forgotten whence +It came, and whither it was bidden blow. +She cursed the kinsfolk who had willed that she +Should wed with him; and cursed herself that gave +Ear to the utterance of their will; and cursed +The day on which their will became her deed: +Saying--and this he knew not until now-- +"Fool, I should ne'er have wedded thee at all, +No, neither thee nor any like to thee, +Had not my father wellnigh forced me to 't." +And he that hearkened, the Lord Angelo, +Spake not a word, but bowed his head, and went +Forth of his castle to the forest nigh, +And roamed all day about the forest, filled +With grief, and marvelling at her lack of love. + + But that which sorelier bruised his breast than ev'n +Lucia's exceeding lack of love for him, +Was this new knowledge, that in taking her +To wife--in the very act of taking her +To wife--himself had crossed the secret will +Of her whose will in all things it had been +His soul's most perfect bliss to gratify. +Wherefore, to make atonement, in some sort, +For this one wrong he deemed that he had done +The woman--this one crossing of her will-- +He knelt him down under the brooding shade +Of a huge oak, and vowed 'fore heaven a vow: +To wit, that Lucia never afterward +Should in his hearing utter forth a wish +For aught of earthly but himself would see +That wish fulfilled, if such fulfilment were +An end that mortal man could compass. Then +Uprising, he beheld the sinking sun +A vast round eye gaze in upon the wood +Through leafy lattice of its nether boughs: +Whereat he turned him castlewards, and owned +A lighter heart than he had borne that day. + + Homeward his face no sooner had he set +Than through the woods came riding unto him +A stranger, of a goodly personage, +Young, and right richly habited, who stayed +His horse, and greeted Angelo, and said: +"I pray you, sir, direct me how to find +An hostel, if there be such hereabouts; +For I have ridden far, and lost my way +Among these woods, and twilight is at hand." +Then he that heard replied to him that asked, +Saying: "The nearest inn is farther hence +Than mine own house; make therefore mine own house +Your inn for this one night, and unto such +Poor entertainment as my house affords +You are most welcome." So the stranger thanked +In courtly speeches the Lord Angelo, +Gladly accepting hospitalities +That were so gladly proffered; and the two +Fared on together, host and guest that were +To be, until they reached the castle, where +Angelo dwelt, and where his fathers lived +Before him, lords of land, in olden days. + + And entering in, the castle's later lord +Led the young signor to the chamber where +The lady Lucia sat, who rose to give +The stranger courteous welcome. (When she chose, +Of looks and lips more gracious none than she.) +But soon as she beheld the young man's face, +A sudden pallor seized her own, and back +She started, wellnigh swooning, but regained +Her wonted self as suddenly, declared +'Twas but a momentary sickness went +Arrow-like through her, sharp, but therewithal +Brief as the breath's one ebb and flow; and which, +Passing, had left her painless as before. +And truly, from that moment she appeared +More brightly beautiful, if Angelo +Erred not, than she had looked for many a day. + + So in brief while the stranger-guest sat down, +With host and hostess, to a table charged +With delicate meats, and fragrant fruits, and wine. +And when the meal was over, and themselves +Were with themselves alone--the serving-men +Having withdrawn--a cheerful converse rose +Concerning divers matters old and new. +And Angelo that evening let his tongue +Range more at freedom than he used; for though +No man was less to prating given than he, +Yet, when he liked his listener, he could make +His mouth discourse in such a wise that few +Had failed to give delighted audience. +For he had learning, and, besides the lore +Won from his books, a better wisdom owned-- +A knowledge of the stuff whence books are made, +The human mind and all it feeds upon. +And, in his youth a wanderer, he had roamed +O'er many countries, not as one who sees +With eyes alone, and hearkens but with ears; +Rather as who would slake the thirst of the soul +By sucking wisdom from the breasts of the world. + + Wherefore the hours flew lightly, winged with words; +Till Angelo, from telling of his own +Young days and early fortunes good and ill, +Was with remembrance smitten, as it chanced, +Of some old grief 'twas grief to think upon. +And so he changed his theme o' the sudden, donned +A shadowy mask of laboured pleasantry, +And said: "My wife, sir, hath a pretty gift +Of singing and of luting: it may be +If you should let your tongue turn mendicant-- +Not for itself but for its needy kin, +Your ears--she might be got to give an alms +For those twin brethren." Whereupon the guest +Unto his hostess turned and smiling said: +"That were indeed a golden alms your voice +Could well afford, and never know itself +The poorer, being a mint of suchlike coin." +And she made answer archly: "I have oft +Heard flatterers of a woman's singing say +Her voice was silvery:--to compare 't with gold +Is sure a new conceit. But, sir, you praise +My singing, who have not yet heard me sing." +And he: "I take it that a woman's speech +Is to her singing what a bird's low chirp +Is to _its_ singing: and if Philomel +Chirp in the hearing of the woodman, he +Knows 'tis the nightingale that chirps, and so +Expects nought meaner than its sovereign song. +Madam, 'tis thus your speaking-voice hath given +Earnest of what your singing-voice will be; +And therefore I entreat you not to dash +The expectations you have raised so high, +By your refusal." And she answered him: +"Nay, if you think to hear a nightingale, +I doubt refusal could not dash them more +Than will compliance. But in very truth, +The boon you crave so small and worthless is, +'Twere miserly to grudge it. Where's my lute?" + + So saying, she bethought her suddenly-- +Or feigned to have bethought her suddenly-- +How she had left the lute that afternoon +Lying upon an arbour-seat, when she +Grew tired of fingering the strings of it-- +Down in the garden, where she wont to walk, +Her lute loquacious to the trees' deaf trunks. +And Angelo, right glad to render her +Such little graceful offices of love, +And gladder yet with hope to hear her sing +Who had denied his asking many a time, +Awaited not another word, but rose +And said, "Myself will bring it," and before +She could assent or disapprove, was gone. + + Scarce had he left the chamber when behold +His wife uprose, and his young stranger-guest +Uprose, and in a trice they cast their arms +About each other, kissed each other, called +Each other _dear_ and _love_, till Lucia said: +"Why cam'st thou not before, my Ugo, whom +I loved, who lovedst me, for many a day, +For many a paradisal day, ere yet +I saw that lean fool with the grizzled beard +Who's gone a-questing for his true wife's lute?" +And he made answer: "I had come erenow, +But that my father, dying, left a load +Of cumbrous duties I had needs perform-- +Dry, peevish, crabbèd business at the best, +Impertinences indispensable, +Accumulated dulness, if you will, +Such as I would not irk your ears withal: +Howbeit I came at last, and nigh a week +Have tarried in the region hereabouts, +Unknown--and yearning for one glimpse of you, +One word, one kiss from you, if even it were +One only and the last; until, to-day, +Roaming the neighbouring forest, I espied +Your husband, guessed it was your husband, feigned +I was a traveller who had lost myself +Among the woods, received from him--ah, now +You laugh, and truly 'tis a famous jest-- +A courteous invitation to his house, +Deemed it were churlish to refuse, and so-- +And so am here, your Ugo, with a heart +The loyal subject of your sovereign heart, +As in old days." Therewith he sat him down, +And softly drawing her upon his knee +Made him a zone of her lascivious arms. + + But thus encinctured hardly had he sat +A moment, when, returning, Angelo +Stood at the threshold of the room, and held +The door half opened, and so standing saw +The lovers, and they saw not him; for half +The chamber lay in shadow, by no lamp +Lighted, or window to admit the moon: +And there the entrance was, and Angelo. + + And listening to their speech a little space, +The fugitive brief moments were to him +A pyramid of piled eternities. +For while he hearkened, Ugo said: "My love, +Answer me this one question, which may seem +Idle, yet is not;--how much lov'st thou me?" +And she replied: "I love thee just as much +As I do hate my husband, and no more." +Then he: "But prithee how much hatest thou +Thy husband?" And she answered: "Ev'n as much +As I love thee. To hate him one whit more +Than that, were past the power of Lucia's hate." +And Ugo: "If thou lovest me so much, +Grant me one gift in token of thy love." +Then she: "What would'st thou?" And he answered her: +"Even thyself; no poorer gift will I." +But Lucia said: "Nay, have I not bestowed +My love, which is my soul, my richer self? +My poorer self, which is my body, how +Can I bestow, when 'tis not in mine own +Possession, being his property forsooth, +Who holds the ecclesiastic title-deed?... +Yet--but I know not ... if I grant this boon, +Bethink thee, how wilt carry hence the gift? +Quick. For the time is all-too brief to waste." +And Ugo spake with hurrying tongue: "Right so: +To-morrow, therefore, when the sun hath set, +Quit thou the castle, all alone, and haste +To yonder tarn that lies amid the trees +Haply a furlong westward from your house-- +The gloomy lakelet fringed with pines--and there +Upon the hither margin thou shalt find +Me, and two with me, mounted all, and armed, +With a fourth steed to bear thee on his back: +And thou shalt fly with me, my Lucia, till +Thou reach my castle in the mountain'd North, +Whose mistress I will make thee, and mine own." +Then Lucia said: "But how if Angelo +Pursue and overtake us?" Whereupon +Ugo replied: "Pursue he may,--o'ertake +He shall not, save he saddle him the wind. +Besides--to grant the impossible--if he +_Were_ to o'ertake us, he could only strive +To win you back with argument; wherein +My servants, at their master's bidding, could +Debate with him on more than equal terms: +Cold steel convinces warmest disputants. +Or, if to see the bosom marital +Impierced, would make your own consorted heart +Bleed sympathetic, some more mild--" But she, +The beauteous Fury, interrupted him +With passionate-pallid lips: "Reproach me not +Beforehand--even in jest reproach me not-- +With imputation of such tenderness +For _him_ and _his_ life--when thou knowest how +I hate, hate, hate him,--when thou knowest how +I wish, and wish, and wish, that he were dead." + + Then Angelo bethought him of his vow; +And stepping forward stood before the twain; +And from his girdle plucked a dagger forth; +And spake no word, but pierced his own heart through. + + + +THE QUESTIONER + +I asked of heaven and earth and sea, +Saying: "O wondrous trinity, +Deign to make answer unto me, +And tell me truly what ye be." +And they made answer: "Verily, +The mask before His face are we, +Because 'tis writ no man can see +His face and live;"--so spake the three. +Then I: "O wondrous trinity, +A mask is but a mockery-- +Make answer yet again to me +And tell if aught besides are ye." +And they made answer: "Verily, +The robe around His form are we, +That sick and sore mortality +May touch its hem and healèd be." +Then I: "O wondrous trinity, +Vouchsafe once more to answer me, +And tell me truly, what is He +Whose very mask and raiment ye?" +But they replied: "Of Time are we, +And of Eternity is He. +Wait thou, and ask Eternity; +Belike his mouth shall answer thee." + + + +THE RIVER + +I + +As drones a bee with sultry hum +When all the world with heat lies dumb, +Thou dronest through the drowsèd lea, +To lose thyself and find the sea. + +As fares the soul that threads the gloom +Toward an unseen goal of doom, +Thou farest forth all witlessly, +To lose thyself and find the sea. + +II + +My soul is such a stream as thou, +Lapsing along it heeds not how; +In one thing only unlike thee,-- +Losing itself, it finds no sea. + +Albeit I know a day shall come +When its dull waters will be dumb; +And then this river-soul of Me, +Losing itself, shall find the sea. + + + +CHANGED VOICES + +Last night the seawind was to me +A metaphor of liberty, + And every wave along the beach +A starlit music seemed to be. + +To-day the seawind is to me +A fettered soul that would be free, + And dumbly striving after speech +The tides yearn landward painfully. + +To-morrow how shall sound for me +The changing voice of wind and sea? + What tidings shall be borne of each? +What rumour of what mystery? + + + +A SUNSET + +Westward a league the city lay, with one +Cloud's imminent umbrage o'er it: when behold, + The incendiary sun + Dropped from the womb o' the vapour, rolled +'Mongst huddled towers and temples, 'twixt them set +Infinite ardour of candescent gold, + Encompassed minaret + And terrace and marmoreal spire +With conflagration: roofs enfurnaced, yet +Unmolten,--columns and cupolas flanked with fire, + Yet standing unconsumed + Of the fierce fervency,--and higher +Than all, their fringes goldenly illumed, +Dishevelled clouds, like massed empurpled smoke + From smouldering forges fumed: + Till suddenly the bright spell broke +With the sun sinking through some palace-floor +And vanishing wholly. Then the city woke, + Her mighty Fire-Dream o'er, + As who from out a sleep is raised +Of terrible loveliness, lasting hardly more +Than one most monumental moment; dazed + He looketh, having come + Forth of one world and witless gazed +Into another: ev'n so looked, for some +Brief while, the city--amazed, immobile, dumb. + + + +A SONG OF THREE SINGERS + +I + + Wave and wind and willow-tree +Speak a speech that no man knoweth; +Tree that sigheth, wind that bloweth, + Wave that floweth to the sea: + Wave and wind and willow-tree. + + Peerless perfect poets ye, +Singing songs all songs excelling, +Fine as crystal music dwelling + In a welling fountain free: + Peerless perfect poets three! + +II + + Wave and wind and willow-tree +Know not aught of poets' rhyming, +Yet they make a silver-chiming + Sunward-climbing minstrelsy, + Soother than all songs that be. + + Blows the wind it knows not why, +Flows the wave it knows not whither, +And the willow swayeth hither + Swayeth thither witlessly, + Nothing knowing save to sigh. + + + +LOVE'S ASTROLOGY + + I know not if they erred + Who thought to see +The tale of all the times to be, + Star-character'd; + I know not, neither care, + If fools or knaves they were. + + But this I know: last night + On me there shone +_Two stars_ that made all stars look wan + And shamèd quite, + Wherefrom the soul of me + Divined her destiny. + + + +THREE FLOWERS + +I made a little song about the rose + And sang it for the rose to hear, +Nor ever marked until the music's close + A lily that was listening near. + +The red red rose flushed redder with delight, + And like a queen her head she raised. +The white white lily blanched a paler white, + For anger that she was not praised. + +Turning I left the rose unto her pride, + The lily to her enviousness, +And soon upon the grassy ground espied + A daisy all companionless. + +Doubtless no flattered flower is this, I deemed; + And not so graciously it grew +As rose or lily: but methought it seemed + More thankful for the sun and dew. + +_Dear love, my sweet small flower that grew'st among + The grass, from all the flowers apart,-- +Forgive me that I gave the rose my song, + Ere thou, the daisy, hadst my heart!_ + + + +THREE ETERNITIES + +Lo, thou and I, my love, +And the sad stars above,-- +Thou and I, I and thou! +Ah could we lie as now +Ever and aye, my love, +Hand within hand, my love, +Heart within heart, my dove, + Through night and day + For ever! + +Lo, thou and I, my love, +Up in the sky above, +Where the sun makes his home +And the gods are, my love, +One day may wander from +Star unto star, my love,-- +Soul within soul, my love, + Yonder afar + For ever! + +Lo, thou and I, my love, +Some time shall lie, my love, +Knowing not night from day, +Knowing not toil from rest,-- +Breast unto breast, my love, +Even as now for aye: +Clay within clay, my love, + Clay within clay + For ever! + + + +LOVE OUTLOVED + +I + + Love cometh and love goeth, + And he is wise who knoweth + Whither and whence love flies: + But wise and yet more wise +Are they that heed not whence he flies or whither +Who hither speeds to-day, to-morrow thither; +Like to the wind that as it listeth blows, +And man doth hear the sound thereof, but knows +Nor whence it comes nor whither yet it goes. + +II + +O sweet my sometime loved and worshipt one + A day thou gavest me +That rose full-orbed in starlike happiness +And lit our heaven that other stars had none:-- +Sole as that westering sphere companionless + When twilight is begun +And the dead sun transfigureth the sea: + A day so bright +Methought the very shadow, from its light + Thrown, were enough to bless +(Albeit with but a shadow's benison) +The unborn days its dark posterity. + Methought our love, though dead, should be + Fair as in life, by memory +Embalmed, a rose with bloom for aye unblown. +But lo the forest is with faded leaves +And our two hearts with faded loves bestrown, + And in mine ear the weak wind grieves + And uttereth moan: +"Shed leaves and fallen, fallen loves and shed, +And those are dead and these are more than dead; + And those have known +The springtime, these the lovetime, overthrown, +With all fair times and pleasureful that be." +And shall not we, O Time, and shall not we + Thy strong self see + Brought low and vanquishèd, + And made to bow the knee + And bow the head +To one that is when thou and thine are fled, +The silent-eyed austere Eternity? + +III + +Behold a new song still the lark doth sing +Each morning when he riseth from the grass, +And no man sigheth for the song that was, +The melody that yestermorn did bring. +The rose dies and the lily, and no man mourns +That nevermore the selfsame flower returns: +For well we know a thousand flowers will spring, +A thousand birds make music on the wing. +Ay me! fair things and sweet are birds and flowers, +The scent of lily and rose in gardens still, +The babble of beakèd mouths that speak no ill: +And love is sweeter yet than flower or bird, +Or any odor smelled or ditty heard-- +Love is another and a sweeter thing. +But when the music ceaseth in Love's bowers, +Who listeneth well shall hear the silence stirred +With aftermoan of many a fretful string: +For when Love harpeth to the hollow hours, +His gladdest notes make saddest echoing. + + + +VANISHINGS + +As one whose eyes have watched the stricken day +Swoon to its crimson death adown the sea, +Turning his face to eastward suddenly +Sees a lack-lustre world all chill and gray,-- +Then, wandering sunless whitherso he may, +Feels the first dubious dumb obscurity, +And vague foregloomings of the Dark to be, +Close like a sadness round his glimmering way; +So I, from drifting dreambound on and on +About strange isles of utter bliss, in seas +Whose waves are unimagined melodies, +Rose and beheld the dreamless world anew: +Sad were the fields, and dim with splendours gone +The strait sky-glimpses fugitive and few. + + + +BEETHOVEN + +O Master, if immortals suffer aught +Of sadness like to ours, and in like sighs +And with like overflow of darkened eyes +Disburden them, I know not; but methought, +What time to day mine ear the utterance caught +Whereby in manifold melodious wise +Thy heart's unrestful infelicities +Rose like a sea with easeless winds distraught, +That thine seemed angel's grieving, as of one +Strayed somewhere out of heaven, and uttering +Lone moan and alien wail: because he hath +Failed to remember the remounting path, +And singing, weeping, can but weep and sing +Ever, through vasts forgotten of the sun. + + + +GOD-SEEKING + +God-seeking thou hast journeyed far and nigh. +On dawn-lit mountain-tops thy soul did yearn +To hear His trailing garments wander by; +And where 'mid thunderous glooms great sunsets burn, +Vainly thou sought'st His shadow on sea and sky; +Or gazing up, at noontide, could'st discern +Only a neutral heaven's indifferent eye +And countenance austerely taciturn. + +Yet whom thou soughtest I have found at last; +Neither where tempest dims the world below +Nor where the westering daylight reels aghast +In conflagrations of red overthrow: +But where this virgin brooklet silvers past, +And yellowing either bank the king-cups blow. + + + +SKYFARING + +Drifting through vacant spaces vast of sleep, +One overtook me like a flying star +And whirled me onward in his glistering car. +From shade to shade the wingèd steeds did leap, +And clomb the midnight like a mountain-steep; +Till that vague world where men and women are, +Ev'n as a rushlight down the gulfs afar, +Paled and went out, upswallowed of the deep. + +Then I to that ethereal charioteer: +"O whither through the vastness are we bound? +O bear me back to yonder blinded sphere!" +Therewith I heard the ends of night resound; +And, wakened by ten thousand echoes, found +That far-off planet lying all-too near. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Poems of William Watson, by William Watson + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13179 *** 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..c6f1c3c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #13179 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13179) diff --git a/old/13179-8.txt b/old/13179-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6fa65f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13179-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6665 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poems of William Watson, by William Watson + +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 Poems of William Watson + +Author: William Watson + +Release Date: August 15, 2004 [EBook #13179] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF WILLIAM WATSON *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Melissa Er-Raqabi and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + +THE POEMS OF +WILLIAM WATSON + + + + +New York +MACMILLAN AND CO. +AND LONDON +1893 + + + + +Norwood Press +J.S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith. +Boston, Mass., U.S.A. + + + + +CONTENTS + +MISCELLANEOUS-- + PRELUDE + AUTUMN + WORLD-STRANGENESS + "WHEN BIRDS WERE SONGLESS" + THE MOCK SELF + "THY VOICE FROM INMOST DREAMLAND CALLS" + IN LALEHAM CHURCHYARD + THE FLIGHT OF YOUTH + "NAY, BID ME NOT MY CARES TO LEAVE" + A CHILD'S HAIR + THE KEY-BOARD + "SCENTLESS FLOW'RS I BRING THEE" + ON LANDOR'S "HELLENICS" + To ---- + ON EXAGGERATED DEFERENCE TO FOREIGN LITERARY OPINION + ENGLAND TO IRELAND + MENSIS LACRIMARUM + "UNDER THE DARK AND PINY STEEP" + THE BLIND SUMMIT + TO LORD TENNYSON + SKETCH OF A POLITICAL CHARACTER + ART MAXIMS + THE GLIMPSE + THE BALLAD OF THE "BRITAIN'S PRIDE" + LINES + THE RAVEN'S SHADOW + LUX PERDITA + ENGLAND AND HER COLONIES + HISTORY + THE EMPTY NEST + IRELAND + THE LUTE-PLAYER + "AND THESE--ARE THESE INDEED THE END" + THE RUSS AT KARA + LIBERTY REJECTED + LIFE WITHOUT HEALTH + TO A FRIEND, CHAFING AT ENFORCED IDLENESS + FROM INTERRUPTED HEALTH + "WELL HE SLUMBERS, GREATLY SLAIN" + AN EPISTLE + TO AUSTIN DOBSON + TO EDWARD CLODD + TO EDWARD DOWDEN + FELICITY +VER TENEBROSUM, SONNETS OF MARCH AND APRIL 1885-- + THE SOUDANESE + HASHEEN + THE ENGLISH DEAD + GORDON + GORDON _(concluded)_ + THE TRUE PATRIOTISM + RESTORED ALLEGIANCE + THE POLITICAL LUMINARY + FOREIGN MENACE + HOME-ROOTEDNESS + OUR EASTERN TREASURE + REPORTED CONCESSIONS + NIGHTMARE + LAST WORD: TO THE COLONIES +EPIGRAMS +WORDSWORTH'S GRAVE +LACHRYMÆ MUSARUM +DEDICATION OF "THE DREAM OF MAN" +THE DREAM OF MAN +SHELLEY'S CENTENARY +A GOLDEN HOUR +AT THE GRAVE OF CHARLES LAMB +LINES IN A FLYLEAF OF "CHRISTABEL" +LINES TO OUR NEW CENSOR +RELUCTANT SUMMER +THE GREAT MISGIVING +"THE THINGS THAT ARE MORE EXCELLENT" +BEAUTY'S METEMPSYCHOSIS +ENGLAND MY MOTHER +NIGHT +THE FUGITIVE IDEAL +"THE FORESTERS" +SONG +COLUMBUS +THE PRINCE'S QUEST +ANGELO +THE QUESTIONER +THE RIVER +CHANGED VOICES +A SUNSET +A SONG OF THREE SINGERS +LOVE'S ASTROLOGY +THREE FLOWERS +THREE ETERNITIES +LOVE OUTLOVED +VANISHINGS +BEETHOVEN +GOD-SEEKING +SKYFARING + + + + + +MISCELLANEOUS + + + + +PRELUDE + +The mighty poets from their flowing store +Dispense like casual alms the careless ore; +Through throngs of men their lonely way they go, +Let fall their costly thoughts, nor seem to know.-- +Not mine the rich and showering hand, that strews +The facile largess of a stintless Muse. +A fitful presence, seldom tarrying long, +Capriciously she touches me to song-- +Then leaves me to lament her flight in vain, +And wonder will she ever come again. + + + +AUTUMN + +Thou burden of all songs the earth hath sung, + Thou retrospect in Time's reverted eyes, + Thou metaphor of everything that dies, +That dies ill-starred, or dies beloved and young + And therefore blest and wise,-- +O be less beautiful, or be less brief, + Thou tragic splendour, strange, and full of fear! + In vain her pageant shall the Summer rear? +At thy mute signal, leaf by golden leaf, + Crumbles the gorgeous year. + +Ah, ghostly as remembered mirth, the tale + Of Summer's bloom, the legend of the Spring! + And thou, too, flutterest an impatient wing, +Thou presence yet more fugitive and frail, + Thou most unbodied thing, +Whose very being is thy going hence, + And passage and departure all thy theme; + Whose life doth still a splendid dying seem, +And thou at height of thy magnificence + A figment and a dream. + +Stilled is the virgin rapture that was June, + And cold is August's panting heart of fire; + And in the storm-dismantled forest-choir +For thine own elegy thy winds attune + Their wild and wizard lyre: +And poignant grows the charm of thy decay, + The pathos of thy beauty, and the sting, + Thou parable of greatness vanishing! +For me, thy woods of gold and skies of grey + With speech fantastic ring. + +For me, to dreams resigned, there come and go, + 'Twixt mountains draped and hooded night and morn, + Elusive notes in wandering wafture borne, +From undiscoverable lips that blow + An immaterial horn; +And spectral seem thy winter-boding trees, + Thy ruinous bowers and drifted foliage wet-- + Past and Future in sad bridal met, +O voice of everything that perishes, + And soul of all regret! + + + +WORLD-STRANGENESS + +Strange the world about me lies, + Never yet familiar grown-- +Still disturbs me with surprise, + Haunts me like a face half known. + +In this house with starry dome, + Floored with gemlike plains and seas, +Shall I never feel at home, + Never wholly be at ease? + +On from room to room I stray, + Yet my Host can ne'er espy, +And I know not to this day + Whether guest or captive I. + +So, between the starry dome + And the floor of plains and seas, +I have never felt at home, + Never wholly been at ease. + + + +"WHEN BIRDS WERE SONGLESS" + +When birds were songless on the bough + I heard thee sing. +The world was full of winter, thou + Wert full of spring. + +To-day the world's heart feels anew + The vernal thrill, +And thine beneath the rueful yew + Is wintry chill. + + + +THE MOCK SELF + +Few friends are mine, though many wights there be +Who, meeting oft a phantasm that makes claim +To be myself, and hath my face and name, +And whose thin fraud I wink at privily, +Account this light impostor very me. +What boots it undeceive them, and proclaim +Myself myself, and whelm this cheat with shame? +I care not, so he leave my true self free, +Impose not on me also; but alas! +I too, at fault, bewildered, sometimes take +Him for myself, and far from mine own sight, +Torpid, indifferent, doth mine own self pass; +And yet anon leaps suddenly awake, +And spurns the gibbering mime into the night. + + + +"THY VOICE FROM INMOST DREAMLAND CALLS" + +Thy voice from inmost dreamland calls; + The wastes of sleep thou makest fair; +Bright o'er the ridge of darkness falls + The cataract of thy hair. + +The morn renews its golden birth: + Thou with the vanquished night dost fade; +And leav'st the ponderable earth + Less real than thy shade. + + + +IN LALEHAM CHURCHYARD + +(AUGUST 18, 1890) + +'Twas at this season, year by year, +The singer who lies songless here +Was wont to woo a less austere, + Less deep repose, +Where Rotha to Winandermere + Unresting flows,-- + +Flows through a land where torrents call +To far-off torrents as they fall, +And mountains in their cloudy pall + Keep ghostly state, +And Nature makes majestical + Man's lowliest fate. + +There, 'mid the August glow, still came +He of the twice-illustrious name, +The loud impertinence of fame + Not loth to flee-- +Not loth with brooks and fells to claim + Fraternity. + +Linked with his happy youthful lot, +Is Loughrigg, then, at last forgot? +Nor silent peak nor dalesman's cot + Looks on his grave. +Lulled by the Thames he sleeps, and not + By Rotha's wave. + +'Tis fittest thus! for though with skill +He sang of beck and tarn and ghyll, +The deep, authentic mountain-thrill + Ne'er shook his page! +Somewhat of worldling mingled still + With bard and sage. + +And 'twere less meet for him to lie +Guarded by summits lone and high +That traffic with the eternal sky + And hear, unawed, +The everlasting fingers ply + The loom of God, + +Than, in this hamlet of the plain, +A less sublime repose to gain, +Where Nature, genial and urbane, + To man defers, +Yielding to us the right to reign, + Which yet is hers. + +And nigh to where his bones abide, +The Thames with its unruffled tide +Seems like his genius typified,-- + Its strength, its grace, +Its lucid gleam, its sober pride, + Its tranquil pace. + +But ah! not his the eventual fate +Which doth the journeying wave await-- +Doomed to resign its limpid state + And quickly grow +Turbid as passion, dark as hate, + And wide as woe. + +Rather, it may be, over-much +He shunned the common stain and smutch, +From soilure of ignoble touch + Too grandly free, +Too loftily secure in such + Cold purity. + +But he preserved from chance control +The fortress of his 'stablisht soul; +In all things sought to see the Whole; + Brooked no disguise; +And set his heart upon the goal, + Not on the prize. + +With those Elect he shall survive +Who seem not to compete or strive, +Yet with the foremost still arrive, + Prevailing still: +Spirits with whom the stars connive + To work their will. + +And ye, the baffled many, who, +Dejected, from afar off view +The easily victorious few + Of calm renown,-- +Have ye not your sad glory too, + And mournful crown? + +Great is the facile conqueror; +Yet haply he, who, wounded sore, +Breathless, unhorsed, all covered o'er + With blood and sweat, +Sinks foiled, but fighting evermore,-- + Is greater yet. + + + +THE FLIGHT OF YOUTH + +Youth! ere thou be flown away. +Surely one last boon to-day + Thou'lt bestow-- +One last light of rapture give, +Rich and lordly fugitive! + Ere thou go. + +What, thou canst not? What, all spent? +All thy spells of ravishment + Pow'rless now? +Gone thy magic out of date? +Gone, all gone that made thee great?-- + Follow thou! + + + +"NAY, BID ME NOT MY CARES TO LEAVE" + +Nay, bid me not my cares to leave, + Who cannot from their shadow flee. +I do but win a short reprieve, + 'Scaping to pleasure and to thee. + +I may, at best, a moment's grace, + And grant of liberty, obtain; +Respited for a little space, + To go back into bonds again. + + + +A CHILD'S HAIR + +A letter from abroad. I tear +Its sheathing open, unaware +What treasure gleams within; and there-- + Like bird from cage-- +Flutters a curl of golden hair + Out of the page. + +From such a frolic head 'twas shorn! +('Tis but five years since he was born.) +Not sunlight scampering over corn + Were merrier thing. +A child? A fragment of the morn, + A piece of Spring! + +Surely an ampler, fuller day +Than drapes our English skies with grey-- +A deeper light, a richer ray + Than here we know-- +To this bright tress have given away + Their living glow. + +For Willie dwells where gentian flowers +Make mimic sky in mountain bowers; +And vineyards steeped in ardent hours + Slope to the wave +Where storied Chillon's tragic towers + Their bases lave; + +And over piny tracts of Vaud +The rose of eve steals up the snow; +And on the waters far below + Strange sails like wings +Half-bodilessly come and go, + Fantastic things; + +And tender night falls like a sigh +On _châlet_ low and _château_ high; +And the far cataract's voice comes nigh, + Where no man hears; +And spectral peaks impale the sky + On silver spears. + +Ah, Willie, whose dissevered tress +Lies in my hand!--may you possess +At least one sovereign happiness, + Ev'n to your grave; +One boon than which I ask naught less, + Naught greater crave: + +May cloud and mountain, lake and vale, +Never to you be trite or stale +As unto souls whose wellsprings fail + Or flow defiled, +Till Nature's happiest fairy-tale + Charms not her child! + +For when the spirit waxes numb, +Alien and strange these shows become, +And stricken with life's tedium + The streams run dry, +The choric spheres themselves are dumb, + And dead the sky,-- + +Dead as to captives grown supine, +Chained to their task in sightless mine: +Above, the bland day smiles benign, + Birds carol free, +In thunderous throes of life divine + Leaps the glad sea; + +But they--their day and night are one. +What is't to them, that rivulets run, +Or what concern of theirs the sun? + It seems as though +Their business with these things was done + Ages ago: + +Only, at times, each dulled heart feels +That somewhere, sealed with hopeless seals, +The unmeaning heaven about him reels, + And he lies hurled +Beyond the roar of all the wheels + Of all the world. + + * * * * * + +On what strange track one's fancies fare! +To eyeless night in sunless lair +'Tis a far cry from Willie's hair; + And here it lies-- +Human, yet something which can ne'er + Grow sad and wise: + +Which, when the head where late it lay +In life's grey dusk itself is grey, +And when the curfew of life's day + By death is tolled, +Shall forfeit not the auroral ray + And eastern gold. + + + +THE KEY-BOARD + +Five-and-thirty black slaves, + Half-a-hundred white, +All their duty but to sing + For their Queen's delight, +Now with throats of thunder, + Now with dulcet lips, +While she rules them royally + With her finger-tips! + +When she quits her palace, + All the slaves are dumb-- +Dumb with dolour till the Queen + Back to Court is come: +Dumb the throats of thunder, + Dumb the dulcet lips, +Lacking all the sovereignty + Of her finger-tips. + +Dusky slaves and pallid, + Ebon slaves and white, +When the Queen was on her throne + How you sang to-night! +Ah, the throats of thunder! + Ah, the dulcet lips! +Ah, the gracious tyrannies + Of her finger-tips! + +Silent, silent, silent, + All your voices now; +Was it then her life alone + Did your life endow? +Waken, throats of thunder! + Waken, dulcet lips! +Touched to immortality + By her finger-tips. + + + +"SCENTLESS FLOW'RS I BRING THEE" + +Scentless flow'rs I bring thee--yet +In thy bosom be they set; +In thy bosom each one grows +Fragrant beyond any rose. + +Sweet enough were she who could, +In thy heart's sweet neighbourhood, +Some redundant sweetness thus +Borrow from that overplus. + + + +ON LANDOR'S "HELLENICS" + +Come hither, who grow cloyed to surfeiting +With lyric draughts o'ersweet, from rills that rise +On Hybla not Parnassus mountain: come +With beakers rinsed of the dulcifluous wave +Hither, and see a magic miracle +Of happiest science, the bland Attic skies +True-mirrored by an English well;--no stream +Whose heaven-belying surface makes the stars +Reel, with its restless idiosyncrasy; +But well unstirred, save when at times it takes +Tribute of lover's eyelids, and at times +Bubbles with laughter of some sprite below. + + + +TO ---- + +(WITH A VOLUME OF EPIGRAMS) + +Unto the Lady of The Nook + Fly, tiny book. +There thou hast lovers--even thou! + Fly thither now. + +Seven years hast thou for honour yearned, + And scant praise earned; +But ah! to win, at last, _such_ friends, + Is full amends. + + + +ON EXAGGERATED DEFERENCE TO +FOREIGN LITERARY OPINION + +What! and shall _we_, with such submissive airs +As age demands in reverence from the young, +Await these crumbs of praise from Europe flung, +And doubt of our own greatness till it bears +The signet of your Goethes or Voltaires? +We who alone in latter times have sung +With scarce less power than Arno's exiled tongue-- +We who are Milton's kindred, Shakespeare's heirs. +The prize of lyric victory who shall gain +If ours be not the laurel, ours the palm? +More than the froth and flotsam of the Seine, +More than your Hugo-flare against the night, +And more than Weimar's proud elaborate calm, +One flash of Byron's lightning, Wordsworth's light. + + + +ENGLAND TO IRELAND + +(FEBRUARY 1888) + +Spouse whom my sword in the olden time won me, + Winning me hatred more sharp than a sword-- +Mother of children who hiss at or shun me, + Curse or revile me, and hold me abhorred-- +Heiress of anger that nothing assuages, + Mad for the future, and mad from the past-- +Daughter of all the implacable ages, + Lo, let us turn and be lovers at last! + +Lovers whom tragical sin hath made equal, + One in transgression and one in remorse. +Bonds may be severed, but what were the sequel? + Hardly shall amity come of divorce. +Let the dead Past have a royal entombing, + O'er it the Future built white for a fane! +I that am haughty from much overcoming + Sue to thee, supplicate--nay, is it vain? + +Hate and mistrust are the children of blindness,-- + Could we but see one another, 'twere well! +Knowledge is sympathy, charity, kindness, + Ignorance only is maker of hell. +Could we but gaze for an hour, for a minute, + Deep in each other's unfaltering eyes, +Love were begun--for that look would begin it-- + Born in the flash of a mighty surprise. + +Then should the ominous night-bird of Error, + Scared by a sudden irruption of day, +Flap his maleficent wings, and in terror + Flit to the wilderness, dropping his prey. +Then should we, growing in strength and in sweetness, + Fusing to one indivisible soul, +Dazzle the world with a splendid completeness, + Mightily single, immovably whole. + +Thou, like a flame when the stormy winds fan it, + I, like a rock to the elements bare,-- +Mixed by love's magic, the fire and the granite, + Who should compete with us, what should compare? +Strong with a strength that no fate might dissever, + One with a oneness no force could divide, +So were we married and mingled for ever, + Lover with lover, and bridegroom with bride. + + + +MENSIS LACRIMARUM + +(MARCH 1885) + +March, that comes roaring, maned, with rampant paws, + And bleatingly withdraws; +March,--'tis the year's fantastic nondescript, + That, born when frost hath nipped +The shivering fields, or tempest scarred the hills, + Dies crowned with daffodils. +The month of the renewal of the earth + By mingled death and birth: +But, England! in this latest of thy years + Call it--the Month of Tears. + + + +"UNDER THE DARK AND PINY STEEP" + +Under the dark and piny steep + We watched the storm crash by: +We saw the bright brand leap and leap + Out of the shattered sky. + +The elements were minist'ring + To make one mortal blest; +For, peal by peal, you did but cling + The closer to his breast. + + + +THE BLIND SUMMIT + +[A Viennese gentleman, who had climbed the Hoch-König +without a guide, was found dead, in a sitting posture, near the +summit, upon which he had written, "It is cold, and clouds shut +out the view."--_Vide_ the _Daily News_ of September 10, 1891.] + +So mounts the child of ages of desire, +Man, up the steeps of Thought; and would behold +Yet purer peaks, touched with unearthlier fire, +In sudden prospect virginally new; +But on the lone last height he sighs: "'Tis cold, + And clouds shut out the view." + +Ah, doom of mortals! Vexed with phantoms old, +Old phantoms that waylay us and pursue,-- +Weary of dreams,--we think to see unfold +The eternal landscape of the Real and True; +And on our Pisgah can but write: "'Tis cold, + And clouds shut out the view." + + + +TO LORD TENNYSON + +(WITH A VOLUME OF VERSE) + +Master and mage, our prince of song, whom Time, + In this your autumn mellow and serene, + Crowns ever with fresh laurels, nor less green +Than garlands dewy from your verdurous prime; +Heir of the riches of the whole world's rhyme, + Dow'r'd with the Doric grace, the Mantuan mien, + With Arno's depth and Avon's golden sheen; +Singer to whom the singing ages climb, +Convergent;--if the youngest of the choir + May snatch a flying splendour from your name +Making his page illustrious, and aspire + For one rich moment your regard to claim, +Suffer him at your feet to lay his lyre + And touch the skirts and fringes of your fame. + + + +SKETCH OF A POLITICAL CHARACTER + +(1885) + + There is a race of men, who master life, +Their victory being inversely as their strife; +Who capture by refraining from pursuit; +Shake not the bough, yet load their hands with fruit; +The earth's high places who attain to fill, +By most indomitably sitting still. +While others, full upon the fortress hurled, +Lay fiery siege to the embattled world, +Of such rude arts _their_ natures feel no need; +Greatly inert, they lazily succeed; +Find in the golden mean their proper bliss, +And doing nothing, never do amiss; +But lapt in men's good graces live, and die +By all regretted, nobody knows why. + + Cast in this fortunate Olympian mould, +The admirable * * * * behold; +Whom naught could dazzle or mislead, unless +'Twere the wild light of fatal cautiousness; +Who never takes a step from his own door +But he looks backward ere he looks before. +When once he starts, it were too much to say +He visibly gets farther on his way: +But all allow, he ponders well his course-- +For future uses hoarding present force. +The flippant deem him slow and saturnine, +The summed-up phlegm of that illustrious line; +But we, his honest adversaries, who +More highly prize him than his false friends do, +Frankly admire that simple mass and weight-- +A solid Roman pillar of the State, +So inharmonious with the baser style +Of neighbouring columns grafted on the pile, +So proud and imperturbable and chill, +Chosen and matched so excellently ill, +He seems a monument of pensive grace, +Ah, how pathetically out of place! + + Would that some call he could not choose but heed-- +Of private passion or of public need-- +At last might sting to life that slothful power, +And snare him into greatness for an hour! + + + +ART MAXIMS + +Often ornateness +Goes with greatness; +Oftener felicity +Comes of simplicity. + +Talent that's cheapest +Affects singularity. +Thoughts that dive deepest +Rise radiant in clarity. + +Life is rough: +Sing smoothly, O Bard. +Enough, enough, +To have _found_ life hard. + +No record Art keeps +Of her travail and throes. +There is toil on the steeps,-- +On the summits, repose. + + + +THE GLIMPSE + +Just for a day you crossed my life's dull track, + Put my ignobler dreams to sudden shame, +Went your bright way, and left me to fall back + On my own world of poorer deed and aim; + +To fall back on my meaner world, and feel + Like one who, dwelling 'mid some, smoke-dimmed town,-- +In a brief pause of labour's sullen wheel,-- + 'Scaped from the street's dead dust and factory's frown,-- + +In stainless daylight saw the pure seas roll, + Saw mountains pillaring the perfect sky: +Then journeyed home, to carry in his soul + The torment of the difference till he die. + + + +THE BALLAD OF THE "BRITAIN'S PRIDE" + +It was a skipper of Lowestoft + That trawled the northern sea, +In a smack of thrice ten tons and seven, + And the _Britain's Pride_ was she. +And the waves were high to windward, + And the waves were high to lee, +And he said as he lost his trawl-net, + "What is to be, will be." + +His craft she reeled and staggered, + But he headed her for the hithe, +In a storm that threatened to mow her down + As grass is mown by the scythe; +When suddenly through the cloud-rift + The moon came sailing soft, +And he saw one mast of a sunken ship + Like a dead arm held aloft. + +And a voice came faint from the rigging-- + "Help! help!" it whispered and sighed-- +And a single form to the sole mast clung, + In the roaring darkness wide. +Oh the crew were but four hands all told, + On board of the _Britain's Pride_, +And ever "Hold on till daybreak!" + Across the night they cried. + +Slowly melted the darkness, + Slowly rose the sun, +And only the lad in the rigging + Was left, out of thirty-one, +To tell the tale of his captain, + The English sailor true, +That did his duty and met his death + As English sailors do. + +Peace to the gallant spirit, + The greatly proved and tried, +And to all who have fed the hungry sea + That is still unsatisfied; +And honour and glory for ever, + While rolls the unresting tide, +To the skipper of little Lowestoft, + And the crew of the _Britain's Pride_. + + + +LINES + +(WITH A VOLUME OF THE AUTHOR'S POEMS SENT TO M.R.C.) + +Go, Verse, nor let the grass of tarrying grow +Beneath thy feet iambic. Southward go +O'er Thamesis his stream, nor halt until +Thou reach the summit of a suburb hill +To lettered fame not unfamiliar: there +Crave rest and shelter of a scholiast fair, +Who dwelleth in a world of old romance, +Magic emprise and faery chevisaunce. +Tell her, that he who made thee, years ago, +By northern stream and mountain, and where blow +Great breaths from the sea-sunset, at this day +One half thy fabric fain would rase away; +But she must take thee faults and all, my Verse, +Forgive thy better and forget thy worse. +Thee, doubtless, she shall place, not scorned, among +More famous songs by happier minstrels sung;-- +In Shakespeare's shadow thou shalt find a home, +Shalt house with melodists of Greece and Rome, +Or awed by Dante's wintry presence be, +Or won by Goethe's regal suavity, +Or with those masters hardly less adored +Repose, of Rydal and of Farringford; +And--like a mortal rapt from men's abodes +Into some skyey fastness of the gods-- +Divinely neighboured, thou in such a shrine +Mayst for a moment dream thyself divine. + + + +THE RAVEN'S SHADOW + +Seabird, elemental sprite, + Moulded of the sun and spray-- +Raven, dreary flake of night + Drifting in the eye of day-- +What in common have ye two, +Meeting 'twixt the blue and blue? + +Thou to eastward carriest + The keen savour of the foam,-- +Thou dost bear unto the west + Fragrance from thy woody home, +Where perchance a house is thine +Odorous of the oozy pine. + +Eastward thee thy proper cares, + Things of mighty moment, call; +Thee to westward thine affairs + Summon, weighty matters all: +I, where land and sea contest, +Watch you eastward, watch you west, + +Till, in snares of fancy caught, + Mystically changed ye seem, +And the bird becomes a thought, + And the thought becomes a dream, +And the dream, outspread on high, +Lords it o'er the abject sky. + +Surely I have known before + Phantoms of the shapes ye be-- +Haunters of another shore + 'Leaguered by another sea. +There my wanderings night and morn +Reconcile me to the bourn. + +There the bird of happy wings + Wafts the ocean-news I crave; +Rumours of an isle he brings + Gemlike on the golden wave: +But the baleful beak and plume +Scatter immelodious gloom. + +Though the flow'rs be faultless made, + Perfectly to live and die-- +Though the bright clouds bloom and fade + Flow'rlike 'midst a meadowy sky-- +Where this raven roams forlorn +Veins of midnight flaw the morn. + +He not less will croak and croak + As he ever caws and caws, +Till the starry dance he broke, + Till the sphery pæan pause, +And the universal chime +Falter out of tune and time. + +Coils the labyrinthine sea + Duteous to the lunar will, +But some discord stealthily + Vexes the world-ditty still, +And the bird that caws and caws +Clasps creation with his claws. + + + +LUX PERDITA + + Thine were the weak, slight hands +That might have taken this strong soul, and bent +Its stubborn substance to thy soft intent, +And bound it unresisting, with such bands +As not the arm of envious heaven had rent. + + Thine were the calming eyes +That round my pinnace could have stilled the sea, +And drawn thy voyager home, and bid him be +Pure with their pureness, with their wisdom wise, +Merged in their light, and greatly lost in thee. + + But thou--thou passed'st on, +With whiteness clothed of dedicated days, +Cold, like a star; and me in alien ways +Thou leftest following life's chance lure, where shone +The wandering gleam that beckons and betrays. + + + +ENGLAND AND HER COLONIES + +She stands, a thousand-wintered tree, + By countless morns impearled; +Her broad roots coil beneath the sea, + Her branches sweep the world; +Her seeds, by careless winds conveyed, + Clothe the remotest strand +With forests from her scatterings made, +New nations fostered in her shade, + And linking land with land. + +O ye by wandering tempest sown + 'Neath every alien star, +Forget not whence the breath was blown + That wafted you afar! +For ye are still her ancient seed + On younger soil let fall-- +Children of Britain's island-breed, +To whom the Mother in her need + Perchance may one day call. + + + +HISTORY + +Here, peradventure, in this mirror glassed, +Who gazes long and well at times beholds +Some sunken feature of the mummied Past, +But oftener only the embroidered folds +And soiled magnificence of her rent robe +Whose tattered skirts are ruined dynasties +That sweep the dust of æons in our eyes +And with their trailing pride cumber the globe.-- +For lo! the high, imperial Past is dead: +The air is full of its dissolvèd bones; +Invincible armies long since vanquishèd, +Kings that remember not their awful thrones, +Powerless potentates and foolish sages, +Impede the slow steps of the pompous ages. + + + +THE EMPTY NEST + +I saunter all about the pleasant place + You made thrice pleasant, O my friends, to me; +But you are gone where laughs in radiant grace + That thousand-memoried unimpulsive sea. +To storied precincts of the southern foam, + Dear birds of passage, ye have taken wing, +And ah! for me, when April wafts you home, + The spring will more than ever be the spring +Still lovely, as of old, this haunted ground; + Tenderly, still, the autumn sunshine falls; +And gorgeously the woodlands tower around, + Freak'd with wild light at golden intervals: +Yet, for the ache your absence leaves, O friends, +Earth's lifeless pageantries are poor amends. + + + +IRELAND + +(DECEMBER 1, 1890) + +In the wild and lurid desert, in the thunder-travelled ways, +'Neath the night that ever hurries to the dawn that still delays, +There she clutches at illusions, and she seeks a phantom goal +With the unattaining passion that consumes the unsleeping soul: +And calamity enfolds her, like the shadow of a ban, +And the niggardness of Nature makes the misery of man: +And in vain the hand is stretched to lift her, stumbling in the gloom, +While she follows the mad fen-fire that conducts her to her doom. + + + +THE LUTE-PLAYER + +She was a lady great and splendid, + I was a minstrel in her halls. +A warrior like a prince attended + Stayed his steed by the castle walls. + +Far had he fared to gaze upon her. + "O rest thee now, Sir Knight," she said. +The warrior wooed, the warrior won her, + In time of snowdrops they were wed. +I made sweet music in his honour, + And longed to strike him dead. + +I passed at midnight from her portal, + Throughout the world till death I rove: +Ah, let me make this lute immortal + With rapture of my hate and love! + + + +"AND THESE--ARE THESE INDEED THE END" + +And these--are these indeed the end, + This grinning skull, this heavy loam? +Do all green ways whereby we wend + Lead but to yon ignoble home? + +Ah well! Thine eyes invite to bliss; + Thy lips are hives of summer still. +I ask not other worlds while this + Proffers me all the sweets I will. + + + +THE RUSS AT KARA + +O King of kings, that watching from Thy throne + Sufferest the monster of Ust-Kara's hold, + With bosom than Siberia's wastes more cold, +And hear'st the wail of captives crushed and prone, +And sett'st no sign in heaven! Shall naught atone + For their wild pangs whose tale is yet scarce told, + Women by uttermost woe made deadly bold, +In the far dungeon's night that hid their moan? +Why waits Thy shattering arm, nor smites this Power + Whose beak and talons rend the unshielded breast, + Whose wings shed terror and a plague of gloom, + Whose ravin is the hearts of the oppressed; +Whose brood are hell-births--Hate that bides its hour, + Wrath, and a people's curse that loathe their doom? + + + +LIBERTY REJECTED + +About this heart thou hast + Thy chains made fast, +And think'st thou I would be + Therefrom set free, +And forth unbound be cast? + +The ocean would as soon + Entreat the moon +Unsay the magic verse + That seals him hers +From silver noon to noon. + +She stooped her pearly head + Seaward, and said: +"Would'st thou I gave to thee + Thy liberty, +In Time's youth forfeited?" + +And from his inmost hold + The answer rolled: +"Thy bondman to remain + Is sweeter pain, +Dearer an hundredfold." + + + +LIFE WITHOUT HEALTH + +Behold life builded as a goodly house +And grown a mansion ruinous +With winter blowing through its crumbling walls! +The master paceth up and down his halls, +And in the empty hours +Can hear the tottering of his towers +And tremor of their bases underground. +And oft he starts and looks around +At creaking of a distant door +Or echo of his footfall on the floor, +Thinking it may be one whom he awaits +And hath for many days awaited, +Coming to lead him through the mouldering gates +Out somewhere, from his home dilapidated. + + + +TO A FRIEND + +CHAFING AT ENFORCED IDLENESS FROM INTERRUPTED HEALTH + +Soon may the edict lapse, that on you lays +This dire compulsion of infertile days, +This hardest penal toil, reluctant rest! +Meanwhile I count you eminently blest, +Happy from labours heretofore well done, +Happy in tasks auspiciously begun. +For they are blest that have not much to rue-- +That have not oft mis-heard the prompter's cue, +Stammered and stumbled and the wrong parts played, +And life a Tragedy of Errors made. + + + +"WELL HE SLUMBERS, GREATLY SLAIN" + +Well he slumbers, greatly slain, + Who in splendid battle dies; +Deep his sleep in midmost main + Pillowed upon pearl who lies. + +Ease, of all good gifts the best, + War and wave at last decree: +Love alone denies us rest, + Crueller than sword or sea. + + + +AN EPISTLE + +(To N.A.) + +So, into Cornwall you go down, +And leave me loitering here in town. +For me, the ebb of London's wave, +Not ocean-thunder in Cornish cave. +My friends (save only one or two) +Gone to the glistening marge, like you,-- +The opera season with blare and din +Dying sublime in _Lohengrin_,-- +Houses darkened, whose blinded panes +All thoughts, save of the dead, preclude,-- +The parks a puddle of tropic rains,-- +Clubland a pensive solitude,-- +For me, now you and yours are flown, +The fellowship of books alone! + + For you, the snaky wave, upflung +With writhing head and hissing tongue; +The weed whose tangled fibres tell +Of some inviolate deep-sea dell; +The faultless, secret-chambered shell, +Whose sound is an epitome +Of all the utterance of the sea; +Great, basking, twinkling wastes of brine; +Far clouds of gulls that wheel and swerve +In unanimity divine, +With undulation serpentine, +And wondrous, consentaneous curve, +Flashing in sudden silver sheen, +Then melting on the sky-line keen; +The world-forgotten coves that seem +Lapt in some magic old sea-dream, +Where, shivering off the milk-white foam, +Lost airs wander, seeking home, +And into clefts and caverns peep, +Fissures paven with powdered shell, +Recesses of primeval sleep, +Tranced with an immemorial spell; +The granite fangs eternally +Rending the blanch'd lips of the sea; +The breaker clutching land, then hurled +Back on its own tormented world; +The mountainous upthunderings, +The glorious energy of things, +The power, the joy, the cosmic thrill, +Earth's ecstasy made visible, +World-rapture old as Night and new +As sunrise;--this, all this, for you! + + So, by Atlantic breezes fanned, +You roam the limits of the land, +And I in London's world abide, +Poor flotsam on the human tide!-- +Nay, rather, isled amid the stream-- +Watching the flood--and, half in dream +Guessing the sources whence it rose, +And musing to what Deep it flows. + + For still the ancient riddles mar +Our joy in man, in leaf, in star. +The Whence and Whither give no rest, +The Wherefore is a hopeless quest; +And the dull wight who never thinks,-- +Who, chancing on the sleeping Sphinx, +Passes unchallenged,--fares the best! + + But ill it suits this random verse +The high enigmas to rehearse, +And touch with desultory tongue +Secrets no man from Night hath wrung. +We ponder, question, doubt--and pray +The Deep to answer Yea or Nay; +And what does the engirdling wave, +The undivulging, yield us, save +Aspersion of bewildering spray? +We do but dally on the beach, +Writing our little thoughts full large, +While Ocean with imperious speech +Derides us trifling by the marge. +Nay, we are children, who all day +Beside the unknown waters play, +And dig with small toy-spade the sand, +Thinking our trenches wondrous deep, +Till twilight falls, and hand-in-hand +Nurse takes us home, well tired, to sleep; +Sleep, and forget our toys, and be +Lulled by the great unsleeping sea. + + Enough!--to Cornwall you go down, +And I tag rhymes in London town. + + + +TO AUSTIN DOBSON + +Yes! urban is your Muse, and owns +An empire based on London stones; +Yet flow'rs, as mountain violets sweet, +Spring from the pavement 'neath her feet. + +Of wilder birth this Muse of mine, +Hill-cradled, and baptized with brine; +And 'tis for her a sweet despair +To watch that courtly step and air! + +Yet surely she, without reproof, +Greeting may send from realms aloof, +And even claim a tie in blood, +And dare to deem it sisterhood. + +For well we know, those Maidens be +All daughters of Mnemosyne; +And 'neath the unifying sun, +Many the songs--but Song is one. + + + +TO EDWARD CLODD + +Friend, in whose friendship I am twice well-starred, + A debt not time may cancel is your due; + For was it not your praise that earliest drew, +On me obscure, that chivalrous regard, +Ev'n his, who, knowing fame's first steep how hard, + With generous lips no faltering clarion blew, + Bidding men hearken to a lyre by few +Heeded, nor grudge the bay to one more bard? +Bitter the task, year by inglorious year, +Of suitor at the world's reluctant ear. + One cannot sing for ever, like a bird, +For sole delight of singing! Him his mate +Suffices, listening with a heart elate; + Nor more his joy, if all the rapt heav'n heard. + + + +TO EDWARD DOWDEN + +ON RECEIVING FROM HIM A COPY OF "THE LIFE OF SHELLEY" + +First, ere I slake my hunger, let me thank +The giver of the feast. For feast it is, +Though of ethereal, translunary fare-- +His story who pre-eminently of men +Seemed nourished upon starbeams and the stuff +Of rainbows, and the tempest, and the foam; +Who hardly brooked on his impatient soul +The fleshly trammels; whom at last the sea +Gave to the fire, from whose wild arms the winds +Took him, and shook him broadcast to the world. +In my young days of fervid poesy +He drew me to him with his strange far light,-- +He held me in a world all clouds and gleams, +And vasty phantoms, where ev'n Man himself +Moved like a phantom 'mid the clouds and gleams. +Anon the Earth recalled me, and a voice +Murmuring of dethroned divinities +And dead times deathless upon sculptured urn-- +And Philomela's long-descended pain +Flooding the night--and maidens of romance +To whom asleep St. Agnes' love-dreams come-- +Awhile constrained me to a sweet duresse +And thraldom, lapping me in high content, +Soft as the bondage of white amorous arms. +And then a third voice, long unheeded--held +Claustral and cold, and dissonant and tame-- +Found me at last with ears to hear. It sang +Of lowly sorrows and familiar joys, +Of simple manhood, artless womanhood, +And childhood fragrant as the limpid morn; +And from the homely matter nigh at hand +Ascending and dilating, it disclosed +Spaces and avenues, calm heights and breadths +Of vision, whence I saw each blade of grass +With roots that groped about eternity, +And in each drop of dew upon each blade +The mirror of the inseparable All. +The first voice, then the second, in their turns +Had sung me captive. This voice sang me free. +Therefore, above all vocal sons of men, +Since him whose sightless eyes saw hell and heaven, +To Wordsworth be my homage, thanks, and love. +Yet dear is Keats, a lucid presence, great +With somewhat of a glorious soullessness. +And dear, and great with an excess of soul, +Shelley, the hectic flamelike rose of verse, +All colour, and all odour, and all bloom, +Steeped in the noonlight, glutted with the sun, +But somewhat lacking root in homely earth, +Lacking such human moisture as bedews +His not less starward stem of song, who, rapt +Not less in glowing vision, yet retained +His clasp of the prehensible, retained +The warm touch of the world that lies to hand, +Not in vague dreams of man forgetting men, +Nor in vast morrows losing the to-day; +Who trusted nature, trusted fate, nor found +An Ogre, sovereign on the throne of things; +Who felt the incumbence of the unknown, yet bore +Without resentment the Divine reserve; +Who suffered not his spirit to dash itself +Against the crags and wavelike break in spray, +But 'midst the infinite tranquillities +Moved tranquil, and henceforth, by Rotha stream +And Rydal's mountain-mirror, and where flows +Yarrow thrice sung or Duddon to the sea, +And wheresoe'er man's heart is thrilled by tones +Struck from man's lyric heartstrings, shall survive. + + + +FELICITY + +A squalid, hideous town, where streams run black +With vomit of a hundred roaring mills,-- +Hither occasion calls me; and ev'n here, +All in the sable reek that wantonly +Defames the sunlight and deflowers the morn, +One may at least surmise the sky still blue. +Ev'n here, the myriad slaves of the machine +Deem life a boon; and here, in days far sped, +I overheard a kind-eyed girl relate +To her companions, how a favouring chance +By some few shillings weekly had increased +The earnings of her household, and she said: +"So now we are happy, having all we wished,"-- +Felicity indeed! though more it lay +In wanting little than in winning all. + +Felicity indeed! Across the years +To me her tones come back, rebuking; me, +Spreader of toils to snare the wandering Joy +No guile may capture and no force surprise-- +Only by them that never wooed her, won. + +O curst with wide desires and spacious dreams, +Too cunningly do ye accumulate +Appliances and means of happiness, +E'er to be happy! Lavish hosts, ye make +Elaborate preparation to receive +A shy and simple guest, who, warned of all +The ceremony and circumstance wherewith +Ye mean to entertain her, will not come. + + + +VER TENEBROSUM + +SONNETS OF MARCH AND APRIL 1885 + + +I + +THE SOUDANESE + +They wrong'd not us, nor sought 'gainst us to wage +The bitter battle. On their God they cried +For succour, deeming justice to abide +In heaven, if banish'd from earth's vicinage. +And when they rose with a gall'd lion's rage, +We, on the captor's, keeper's, tamer's side, +We, with the alien tyranny allied, +We bade them back to their Egyptian cage. +Scarce knew they who we were! A wind of blight +From the mysterious far north-west we came. +Our greatness now their veriest babes have learn'd, +Where, in wild desert homes, by day, by night, +Thousands that weep their warriors unreturn'd, +O England, O my country, curse thy name! + + +II + +HASHEEN + +"Of British arms, another victory!" +Triumphant words, through all the land's length sped. +Triumphant words, but, being interpreted, +Words of ill sound, woful as words can be. +Another carnage by the drear Red Sea-- +Another efflux of a sea more red! +Another bruising of the hapless head +Of a wrong'd people yearning to be free. +Another blot on her great name, who stands +Confounded, left intolerably alone +With the dilating spectre of her own +Dark sin, uprisen from yonder spectral sands: +Penitent more than to herself is known; +England, appall'd by her own crimson hands. + + +III + +THE ENGLISH DEAD + +Give honour to our heroes fall'n, how ill +Soe'er the cause that bade them forth to die. +Honour to him, the untimely struck, whom high +In place, more high in hope, 'twas fate's harsh will +With tedious pain unsplendidly to kill. +Honour to him, doom'd splendidly to die, +Child of the city whose foster-child am I, +Who, hotly leading up the ensanguin'd hill +His charging thousand, fell without a word-- +Fell, but shall fall not from our memory. +Also for them let honour's voice be heard +Who nameless sleep, while dull time covereth +With no illustrious shade of laurel tree, +But with the poppy alone, their deeds and death. + + +IV + +GORDON + +Idle although our homage be and vain, +Who loudly through the door of silence press +And vie in zeal to crown death's nakedness, +Not therefore shall melodious lips refrain +Thy praises, gentlest warrior without stain, +Denied the happy garland of success, +Foil'd by dark fate, but glorious none the less, +Greatest of losers, on the lone peak slain +Of Alp-like virtue. Not to-day, and not +To-morrow, shall thy spirit's splendour be +Oblivion's victim; but when God shall find +All human grandeur among men forgot, +Then only shall the world, grown old and blind, +Cease, in her dotage, to remember Thee. + + +V + +GORDON _(concluded)_ + +Arab, Egyptian, English--by the sword +Cloven, or pierced with spears, or bullet-mown-- +In equal fate they sleep: their dust is grown +A portion of the fiery sands abhorred. +And thou, what hast thou, hero, for reward, +Thou, England's glory and her shame? O'erthrown +Thou liest, unburied, or with grave unknown +As his to whom on Nebo's height the Lord +Showed all the land of Gilead, unto Dan; +Judah sea-fringed; Manasseh and Ephraim; +And Jericho palmy, to where Zoar lay; +And in a valley of Moab buried him, +Over against Beth-Peor, but no man +Knows of his sepulchre unto this day. + + +VI + +THE TRUE PATRIOTISM + +The ever-lustrous name of patriot +To no man be denied because he saw +Where in his country's wholeness lay the flaw, +Where, on her whiteness, the unseemly blot. +England! thy loyal sons condemn thee.--What! +Shall we be meek who from thine own breasts draw +Our fierceness? Not ev'n _thou_ shalt overawe +Us thy proud children nowise basely got. +Be this the measure of our loyalty-- +To feel thee noble and weep thy lapse the more. +This truth by thy true servants is confess'd-- +Thy sins, who love thee most, do most deplore. +Know thou thy faithful! Best they honour thee +Who honour in thee only what is best. + + +VII + +RESTORED ALLEGIANCE + +Dark is thy trespass, deep be thy remorse, +O England! Fittingly thine own feet bleed, +Submissive to the purblind guides that lead +Thy weary steps along this rugged course. +Yet ... when I glance abroad, and track the source +More selfish far, of other nations' deed, +And mark their tortuous craft, their jealous greed, +Their serpent-wisdom or mere soulless force, +Homeward returns my vagrant fealty, +Crying, "O England, shouldst thou one day fall, +Shatter'd in ruins by some Titan foe, +Justice were thenceforth weaker throughout all +The world, and Truth less passionately free, +And God the poorer for thine overthrow." + + +VIII + +THE POLITICAL LUMINARY + +A skilful leech, so long as we were whole: +Who scann'd the nation's every outward part, +But ah! misheard the beating of its heart. +Sire of huge sorrows, yet erect of soul. +Swift rider with calamity for goal, +Who, overtasking his equestrian art, +Unstall'd a steed full willing for the start, +But wondrous hard to curb or to control. +Sometimes we thought he led the people forth: +Anon he seemed to follow where they flew; +Lord of the golden tongue and smiting eyes; +Great out of season, and untimely wise: +A man whose virtue, genius, grandeur, worth +Wrought deadlier ill than ages can undo. + + +IX + +FOREIGN MENACE + +I marvel that this land, whereof I claim +The glory of sonship--for it _was_ erewhile +A glory to be sprung of Britain's isle, +Though now it well-nigh more resembles shame-- +I marvel that this land with heart so tame +Can brook the northern insolence and guile. +But most it angers me, to think how vile +Art thou, how base, from whom the insult came, +Unwieldly laggard, many an age behind +Thy sister Powers, in brain and conscience both; +In recognition of man's widening mind +And flexile adaptation to its growth: +Brute bulk, that bearest on thy back, half loth, +One wretched man, most pitied of mankind. + + +X + +HOME-ROOTEDNESS + +I cannot boast myself cosmopolite; +I own to "insularity," although +'Tis fall'n from fashion, as full well I know. +For somehow, being a plain and simple wight, +I am skin-deep a child of the new light, +But chiefly am mere Englishman below, +Of island-fostering; and can hate a foe, +And trust my kin before the Muscovite. +Whom shall I trust if not my kin? And whom +Account so near in natural bonds as these +Born of my mother England's mighty womb, +Nursed on my mother England's mighty knees, +And lull'd as I was lull'd in glory and gloom +With cradle-song of her protecting seas? + + +XI + +OUR EASTERN TREASURE + +In cobwebb'd corners dusty and dim I hear +A thin voice pipingly revived of late, +Which saith our India is a cumbrous weight, +An idle decoration, bought too dear. +The wiser world contemns not gorgeous gear; +Just pride is no mean factor in a State; +The sense of greatness keeps a nation great; +And mighty they who mighty can appear. +It may be that if hands of greed could steal +From England's grasp the envied orient prize, +This tide of gold would flood her still as now: +But were she the same England, made to feel +A brightness gone from out those starry eyes, +A splendour from that constellated brow? + + +XII + +REPORTED CONCESSIONS + +So we must palter, falter, cringe, and shrink, +And when the bully threatens, crouch or fly.-- +There are who tell me with a shuddering eye +That war's red cup is Satan's chosen drink. +Who shall gainsay them? Verily I do think +War is as hateful almost, and well-nigh +As ghastly, as this terrible Peace whereby +We halt for ever on the crater's brink +And feed the wind with phrases, while we know +There gapes at hand the infernal precipice +O'er which a gossamer bridge of words we throw, +Yet cannot choose but hear from the abyss +The sulphurous gloom's unfathomable hiss +And simmering lava's subterranean flow. + + +XIII + +NIGHTMARE + +(_Written during apparent imminence of war_) + +In a false dream I saw the Foe prevail. +The war was ended; the last smoke had rolled +Away: and we, erewhile the strong and bold, +Stood broken, humbled, withered, weak and pale, +And moan'd, "Our greatness is become a tale +To tell our children's babes when we are old. +They shall put by their playthings to be told +How England once, before the years of bale, +Throned above trembling, puissant, grandiose, calm, +Held Asia's richest jewel in her palm; +And with unnumbered isles barbaric, she +The broad hem of her glistering robe impearl'd; +Then, when she wound her arms about the world, +And had for vassal the obsequious sea." + + +XIV + +LAST WORD: TO THE COLONIES + +Brothers beyond the Atlantic's loud expanse; +And you that rear the innumerable fleece +Far southward 'mid the ocean named of peace; +Britons that past the Indian wave advance +Our name and spirit and world-predominance; +And you our kin that reap the earth's increase +Where crawls that long-backed mountain till it cease +Crown'd with the headland of bright esperance:-- +Remote compatriots wheresoe'er ye dwell, +By your prompt voices ringing clear and true +We know that with our England all is well: +Young is she yet, her world-task but begun! +By you we know her safe, and know by you +Her veins are million but her heart is one. + + + +EPIGRAMS + +'Tis human fortune's happiest height to be + A spirit melodious, lucid, poised, and whole; +Second in order of felicity + I hold it, to have walk'd with such a soul. + + * * * * * + +The statue--Buonarroti said--doth wait, +Thrall'd in the block, for me to emancipate. +The poem--saith the poet--wanders free +Till I betray it to captivity. + + * * * * * + +To keep in sight Perfection, and adore + The vision, is the artist's best delight; +His bitterest pang, that he can ne'er do more + Than keep her long'd-for loveliness in sight. + + * * * * * + +If Nature be a phantasm, as thou say'st, + A splendid fiction and prodigious dream, +To reach the real and true I'll make no haste, + More than content with worlds that only seem. + + * * * * * + +The Poet gathers fruit from every tree, +Yea, grapes from thorns and figs from thistles he. +Pluck'd by his hand, the basest weed that grows +Towers to a lily, reddens to a rose. + + * * * * * + +Brook, from whose bridge the wandering idler peers + To watch thy small fish dart or cool floor shine, +I would that bridge whose arches all are years + Spann'd not a less transparent wave than thine! + + * * * * * + +To Art we go as to a well, athirst, + And see our shadow 'gainst its mimic skies, +But in its depth must plunge and be immersed + To clasp the naiad Truth where low she lies. + + * * * * * + +In youth the artist voweth lover's vows +To Art, in manhood maketh her his spouse. +Well if her charms yet hold for him such joy +As when he craved some boon and she was coy! + + * * * * * + +Immured in sense, with fivefold bonds confined, + Rest we content if whispers from the stars +In waftings of the incalculable wind + Come blown at midnight through our prison-bars. + + * * * * * + +Love, like a bird, hath perch'd upon a spray + For thee and me to hearken what he sings. +Contented, he forgets to fly away; + But hush!... remind not Eros of his wings. + + * * * * * + +Think not thy wisdom can illume away +The ancient tanglement of night and day. +Enough, to acknowledge both, and both revere: +They see not clearliest who see all things clear. + + * * * * * + +In mid whirl of the dance of Time ye start, + Start at the cold touch of Eternity, +And cast your cloaks about you, and depart: + The minstrels pause not in their minstrelsy. + + * * * * * + +The beasts in field are glad, and have not wit + To know why leapt their hearts when springtime shone. +Man looks at his own bliss, considers it, + Weighs it with curious fingers; and 'tis gone. + + * * * * * + +Momentous to himself as I to me + Hath each man been that ever woman bore; +Once, in a lightning-flash of sympathy, + I _felt_ this truth, an instant, and no more. + + * * * * * + +The gods man makes he breaks; proclaims them each + Immortal, and himself outlives them all: +But whom he set not up he cannot reach + To shake His cloud-dark sun-bright pedestal. + + * * * * * + +The children romp within the graveyard's pale; +The lark sings o'er a madhouse, or a gaol;-- +Such nice antitheses of perfect poise +Chance in her curious rhetoric employs. + + * * * * * + +Our lithe thoughts gambol close to God's abyss, +Children whose home is by the precipice. +Fear not thy little ones shall o'er it fall: +Solid, though viewless, is the girdling wall. + + * * * * * + +Lives there whom pain hath evermore pass'd by +And Sorrow shunn'd with an averted eye? +Him do thou pity, him above the rest, +Him of all hapless mortals most unbless'd. + + * * * * * + +Say what thou wilt, the young are happy never. +Give me bless'd Age, beyond the fire and fever,-- +Past the delight that shatters, hope that stings, +And eager flutt'ring of life's ignorant wings. + + * * * * * + +Onward the chariot of the Untarrying moves; + Nor day divulges him nor night conceals; +Thou hear'st the echo of unreturning hooves + And thunder of irrevocable wheels. + + * * * * * + +A deft musician does the breeze become + Whenever an Æolian harp it finds: +Hornpipe and hurdygurdy both are dumb + Unto the most musicianly of winds. + + * * * * * + +I follow Beauty; of her train am I: + Beauty whose voice is earth and sea and air; +Who serveth, and her hands for all things ply; + Who reigneth, and her throne is everywhere. + + * * * * * + +Toiling and yearning, 'tis man's doom to see + No perfect creature fashion'd of his hands. +Insulted by a flower's immaculacy, + And mock'd at by the flawless stars he stands. + + * * * * * + +For metaphors of man we search the skies, + And find our allegory in all the air. +We gaze on Nature with Narcissus-eyes, +Enamour'd of our shadow everywhere. + + * * * * * + +One music maketh its occult abode + In all things scatter'd from great Beauty's hand; +And evermore the deepest words of God + Are yet the easiest to understand. + + * * * * * + +Enough of mournful melodies, my lute! +Be henceforth joyous, or be henceforth mute. +Song's breath is wasted when it does but fan +The smouldering infelicity of man. + + * * * * * + +I pluck'd this flower, O brighter flower, for thee, +There where the river dies into the sea. +To kiss it the wild west wind hath made free: +Kiss it thyself and give it back to me. + + * * * * * + +To be as this old elm full loth were I, + That shakes in the autumn storm its palsied head. +Hewn by the weird last woodman let me lie + Ere the path rustle with my foliage shed. + + * * * * * + +Ah, vain, thrice vain in the end, thy hate and rage, +And the shrill tempest of thy clamorous page. +True poets but transcendent lovers be, +And one great love-confession poesy. + + * * * * * + +His rhymes the poet flings at all men's feet, + And whoso will may trample on his rhymes. +Should Time let die a song that's true and sweet, + The singer's loss were more than match'd by Time's. + + * * * * * + +ON LONGFELLOW'S DEATH + +No puissant singer he, whose silence grieves + To-day the great West's tender heart and strong; +No singer vast of voice: yet one who leaves + His native air the sweeter for his song. + + * * * * * + +BYRON THE VOLUPTUARY + +Too avid of earth's bliss, he was of those + Whom Delight flies because they give her chase. +Only the odour of her wild hair blows + Back in their faces hungering for her face. + + * * * * * + +ANTONY AT ACTIUM + +He holds a dubious balance:--yet _that_ scale, +Whose freight the world is, surely shall prevail? +No; Cleopatra droppeth into _this_ +One counterpoising orient sultry kiss. + + * * * * * + +ART + +The thousand painful steps at last are trod, + At last the temple's difficult door we win; +But perfect on his pedestal, the god + Freezes us hopeless when we enter in. + + * * * * * + +KEATS + +He dwelt with the bright gods of elder time, + On earth and in their cloudy haunts above. +He loved them: and in recompense sublime, + The gods, alas! gave him their fatal love. + + * * * * * + +AFTER READING "TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT" + +Your Marlowe's page I close, my Shakspere's ope. + How welcome--after gong and cymbal's din-- +The continuity, the long slow slope + And vast curves of the gradual violin! + + * * * * * + +SHELLEY AND HARRIET WESTBROOK + +A star look'd down from heaven and loved a flower +Grown in earth's garden--loved it for an hour: + +Let eyes that trace his orbit in the spheres +Refuse not, to a ruin'd rosebud, tears. + + * * * * * + +THE PLAY OF "KING LEAR" + +Here Love the slain with Love the slayer lies; + Deep drown'd are both in the same sunless pool. +Up from its depths that mirror thundering skies + Bubbles the wan mirth of the mirthless Fool. + + * * * * + +TO A POET + +Time, the extortioner, from richest beauty +Takes heavy toll and wrings rapacious duty. +Austere of feature if thou carve thy rhyme, +Perchance 'twill pay the lesser tax to Time. + + * * * * * + +THE YEAR'S MINSTRELSY + +Spring, the low prelude of a lordlier song: + Summer, a music without hint of death: +Autumn, a cadence lingeringly long: + Winter, a pause;--the Minstrel-Year takes breath. + + * * * * * + +THE RUINED ABBEY + +Flower fondled, clasp'd in ivy's close caress, + It seems allied with Nature, yet apart:-- +Of wood's and wave's insensate loveliness + The glad, sad, tranquil, passionate, human heart. + + * * * * * + +MICHELANGELO'S "MOSES" + +The captain's might, and mystery of the seer-- + Remoteness of Jehovah's colloquist, +Nearness of man's heaven-advocate--are here: + Alone Mount Nebo's harsh foreshadow is miss'd. + + * * * * * + +THE ALPS + +Adieu, white brows of Europe! sovereign brows, + That wear the sunset for a golden tiar. +With me in memory shall your phantoms house + For ever, whiter than yourselves, and higher. + + * * * * * + +THE CATHEDRAL SPIRE + +It soars like hearts of hapless men who dare + To sue for gifts the gods refuse to allot; +Who climb for ever toward they know not where, + Baffled for ever by they know not what. + + * * * * * + +AN EPITAPH + +His friends he loved. His fellest earthly foes-- + Cats--I believe he did but feign to hate. +My hand will miss the insinuated nose, + Mine eyes the tail that wagg'd contempt at Fate. + + * * * * * + +THE METROPOLITAN UNDERGROUND RAILWAY + +Here were a goodly place wherein to die;-- + Grown latterly to sudden change averse, +All violent contrasts fain avoid would I + On passing from this world into a worse. + + * * * * * + +TO A SEABIRD + +Fain would I have thee barter fates with me,-- +Lone loiterer where the shells like jewels be, +Hung on the fringe and frayed hem of the sea. +But no,--'twere cruel, wild-wing'd Bliss! to thee. + + * * * * * + +ON DÜRER'S _MELENCOLIA_ + +What holds her fixed far eyes nor lets them range? +Not the strange sea, strange earth, or heav'n more strange; +But her own phantom dwarfing these great three, +More strange than all, more old than heav'n, earth, sea. + + * * * * * + +TANTALUS + +He wooes for ever, with foil'd lips of drouth, +The wave that wearies not to mock his mouth. +'Tis Lethe's; they alone that tide have quaff'd +Who never thirsted for the oblivious draught. + + * * * * * + +A MAIDEN'S EPITAPH + +She dwelt among us till the flowers, 'tis said, + Grew jealous of her: with precipitate feet, +As loth to wrong them unawares, she fled. + Earth is less fragrant now, and heaven more sweet. + + + +WORDSWORTH'S GRAVE + + +TO JAMES BROMLEY + +WITH "WORDSWORTH'S GRAVE" + +Ere vandal lords with lust of gold accurst + Deface each hallowed hillside we revere-- +Ere cities in their million-throated thirst + Menace each sacred mere-- +Let us give thanks because one nook hath been + Unflooded yet by desecration's wave, +The little churchyard in the valley green + That holds our Wordsworth's grave. + +'Twas there I plucked these elegiac blooms, + There where he rests 'mid comrades fit and few, +And thence I bring this growth of classic tombs, + An offering, friend, to you-- +You who have loved like me his simple themes, + Loved his sincere large accent nobly plain, +And loved the land whose mountains and whose streams + Are lovelier for his strain. + +It may be that his manly chant, beside + More dainty numbers, seems a rustic tune; +It may be, thought has broadened since he died + Upon the century's noon; +It may be that we can no longer share + The faith which from his fathers he received; +It may be that our doom is to despair + Where he with joy believed;-- + +Enough that there is none since risen who sings + A song so gotten of the immediate soul, +So instant from the vital fount of things + Which is our source and goal; +And though at touch of later hands there float + More artful tones than from his lyre he drew, +Ages may pass ere trills another note + So sweet, so great, so true. + + + +WORDSWORTH'S GRAVE + +I + +The old rude church, with bare, bald tower, is here; + Beneath its shadow high-born Rotha flows; +Rotha, remembering well who slumbers near, + And with cool murmur lulling his repose + +Rotha, remembering well who slumbers near. + His hills, his lakes, his streams are with him yet. +Surely the heart that read her own heart clear + Nature forgets not soon: 'tis we forget. + +We that with vagrant soul his fixity + Have slighted; faithless, done his deep faith wrong; +Left him for poorer loves, and bowed the knee + To misbegotten strange new gods of song. + +Yet, led by hollow ghost or beckoning elf + Far from her homestead to the desert bourn, +The vagrant soul returning to herself + Wearily wise, must needs to him return. + +To him and to the powers that with him dwell:-- + Inflowings that divulged not whence they came; +And that secluded spirit unknowable, + The mystery we make darker with a name; + +The Somewhat which we name but cannot know, + Ev'n as we name a star and only see +His quenchless flashings forth, which ever show + And ever hide him, and which are not he. + + +II + +Poet who sleepest by this wandering wave! + When thou wast born, what birth-gift hadst thou then? +To thee what wealth was that the Immortals gave, + The wealth thou gavest in thy turn to men? + +Not Milton's keen, translunar music thine; + Not Shakespeare's cloudless, boundless human view; +Not Shelley's flush of rose on peaks divine; + Nor yet the wizard twilight Coleridge knew. + +What hadst thou that could make so large amends + For all thou hadst not and thy peers possessed, +Motion and fire, swift means to radiant ends?-- + Thou hadst, for weary feet, the gift of rest. + +From Shelley's dazzling glow or thunderous haze, + From Byron's tempest-anger, tempest-mirth, +Men turned to thee and found--not blast and blaze, + Tumult of tottering heavens, but peace on earth, + +Nor peace that grows by Lethe, scentless flower, + There in white languors to decline and cease; +But peace whose names are also rapture, power, + Clear sight, and love: for these are parts of peace. + + +III + +I hear it vouched the Muse is with us still;-- + If less divinely frenzied than of yore, +In lieu of feelings she has wondrous skill + To simulate emotion felt no more. + +Not such the authentic Presence pure, that made + This valley vocal in the great days gone!-- +In _his_ great days, while yet the spring-time played + About him, and the mighty morning shone. + +No word-mosaic artificer, he sang + A lofty song of lowly weal and dole. +Right from the heart, right to the heart it sprang, + Or from the soul leapt instant to the soul. + +He felt the charm of childhood, grace of youth, + Grandeur of age, insisting to be sung. +The impassioned argument was simple truth + Half-wondering at its own melodious tongue. + +Impassioned? ay, to the song's ecstatic core! + But far removed were clangour, storm and feud; +For plenteous health was his, exceeding store + Of joy, and an impassioned quietude. + + +IV + +A hundred years ere he to manhood came, + Song from celestial heights had wandered down, +Put off her robe of sunlight, dew and flame, + And donned a modish dress to charm the Town. + +Thenceforth she but festooned the porch of things; + Apt at life's lore, incurious what life meant. +Dextrous of hand, she struck her lute's few strings; + Ignobly perfect, barrenly content. + +Unflushed with ardour and unblanched with awe, + Her lips in profitless derision curled, +She saw with dull emotion--if she saw-- + The vision of the glory of the world. + +The human masque she watched, with dreamless eyes + In whose clear shallows lurked no trembling shade: +The stars, unkenned by her, might set and rise, + Unmarked by her, the daisies bloom and fade. + +The age grew sated with her sterile wit. + Herself waxed weary on her loveless throne. +Men felt life's tide, the sweep and surge of it, + And craved a living voice, a natural tone. + +For none the less, though song was but half true, + The world lay common, one abounding theme. +Man joyed and wept, and fate was ever new, + And love was sweet, life real, death no dream. + +In sad stern verse the rugged scholar-sage + Bemoaned his toil unvalued, youth uncheered. +His numbers wore the vesture of the age, + But, 'neath it beating, the great heart was heard. + +From dewy pastures, uplands sweet with thyme, + A virgin breeze freshened the jaded day. +It wafted Collins' lonely vesper-chime, + It breathed abroad the frugal note of Gray. + +It fluttered here and there, nor swept in vain + The dusty haunts where futile echoes dwell,-- +Then, in a cadence soft as summer rain, + And sad from Auburn voiceless, drooped and fell. + +It drooped and fell, and one 'neath northern skies, + With southern heart, who tilled his father's field, +Found Poesy a-dying, bade her rise + And touch quick nature's hem and go forth healed. + +On life's broad plain the ploughman's conquering share + Upturned the fallow lands of truth anew, +And o'er the formal garden's trim parterre + The peasant's team a ruthless furrow drew. + +Bright was his going forth, but clouds ere long + Whelmed him; in gloom his radiance set, and those +Twin morning stars of the new century's song, + Those morning stars that sang together, rose. + +In elvish speech the _Dreamer_ told his tale + Of marvellous oceans swept by fateful wings.-- +The _Seër_ strayed not from earth's human pale, + But the mysterious face of common things + +He mirrored as the moon in Rydal Mere + Is mirrored, when the breathless night hangs blue: +Strangely remote she seems and wondrous near, + And by some nameless difference born anew. + + +V + +Peace--peace--and rest! Ah, how the lyre is loth, + Or powerless now, to give what all men seek! +Either it deadens with ignoble sloth + Or deafens with shrill tumult, loudly weak. + +Where is the singer whose large notes and clear + Can heal and arm and plenish and sustain? +Lo, one with empty music floods the ear, + And one, the heart refreshing, tires the brain. + +And idly tuneful, the loquacious throng + Flutter and twitter, prodigal of time, +And little masters make a toy of song + Till grave men weary of the sound of rhyme. + +And some go prankt in faded antique dress, + Abhorring to be hale and glad and free; +And some parade a conscious naturalness, + The scholar's not the child's simplicity. + +Enough;--and wisest who from words forbear. + The kindly river rails not as it glides; +And suave and charitable, the winning air + Chides not at all, or only him who chides. + + +VI + +Nature! we storm thine ear with choric notes. + Thou answerest through the calm great nights and days, +"Laud me who will: not tuneless are your throats; + Yet if ye paused I should not miss the praise." + +We falter, half-rebuked, and sing again. + We chant thy desertness and haggard gloom, +Or with thy splendid wrath inflate the strain, + Or touch it with thy colour and perfume. + +One, his melodious blood aflame for thee, + Wooed with fierce lust, his hot heart world-defiled. +One, with the upward eye of infancy, + Looked in thy face, and felt himself thy child. + +Thee he approached without distrust or dread-- + Beheld thee throned, an awful queen, above-- +Climbed to thy lap and merely laid his head + Against thy warm wild heart of mother-love. + +He heard that vast heart beating--thou didst press + Thy child so close, and lov'dst him unaware. +Thy beauty gladdened him; yet he scarce less + Had loved thee, had he never found thee fair! + +For thou wast not as legendary lands + To which with curious eyes and ears we roam. +Nor wast thou as a fane mid solemn sands, + Where palmers halt at evening. Thou wast home. + +And here, at home, still bides he; but he sleeps; + Not to be wakened even at thy word; +Though we, vague dreamers, dream he somewhere keeps + An ear still open to thy voice still heard,-- + +Thy voice, as heretofore, about him blown, + For ever blown about his silence now; +Thy voice, though deeper, yet so like his own + That almost, when he sang, we deemed 'twas thou! + + +VII + +Behind Helm Crag and Silver Howe the sheen + Of the retreating day is less and less. +Soon will the lordlier summits, here unseen, + Gather the night about their nakedness. + +The half-heard bleat of sheep comes from the hill, + Faint sounds of childish play are in the air. +The river murmurs past. All else is still. + The very graves seem stiller than they were. + +Afar though nation be on nation hurled, + And life with toil and ancient pain depressed, +Here one may scarce believe the whole wide world + Is not at peace, and all man's heart at rest. + +Rest! 'twas the gift _he_ gave; and peace! the shade + _He_ spread, for spirits fevered with the sun. +To him his bounties are come back--here laid + In rest, in peace, his labour nobly done. + + + +LACHRYMÆ MUSARUM +AND +OTHER POEMS + + + +TO +RICHARD HOLT HUTTON +AND +MEREDITH TOWNSEND + +WITH GRATITUDE + + + +LACHRYMÆ MUSARUM + +(6TH OCTOBER 1892) + +Low, like another's, lies the laurelled head: +The life that seemed a perfect song is o'er: +Carry the last great bard to his last bed. +Land that he loved, thy noblest voice is mute. +Land that he loved, that loved him! nevermore +Meadow of thine, smooth lawn or wild sea-shore, +Gardens of odorous bloom and tremulous fruit, +Or woodlands old, like Druid couches spread, +The master's feet shall tread. +Death's little rift hath rent the faultless lute: +The singer of undying songs is dead. + + Lo, in this season pensive-hued and grave, +While fades and falls the doomed, reluctant leaf +From withered Earth's fantastic coronal, +With wandering sighs of forest and of wave +Mingles the murmur of a people's grief +For him whose leaf shall fade not, neither fall. +He hath fared forth, beyond these suns and showers. +For us, the autumn glow, the autumn flame, +And soon the winter silence shall be ours: +Him the eternal spring of fadeless fame +Crowns with no mortal flowers. + + Rapt though he be from us, +Virgil salutes him, and Theocritus; +Catullus, mightiest-brained Lucretius, each +Greets him, their brother, on the Stygian beach; +Proudly a gaunt right hand doth Dante reach; +Milton and Wordsworth bid him welcome home; +Bright Keats to touch his raiment doth beseech; +Coleridge, his locks aspersed with fairy foam, +Calm Spenser, Chaucer suave, +His equal friendship crave: +And godlike spirits hail him guest, in speech +Of Athens, Florence, Weimar, Stratford, Rome. + + What needs his laurel our ephemeral tears, +To save from visitation of decay? +Not in this temporal sunlight, now, that bay +Blooms, nor to perishable mundane ears +Sings he with lips of transitory clay; +For he hath joined the chorus of his peers +In habitations of the perfect day: +His earthly notes a heavenly audience hears, +And more melodious are henceforth the spheres, +Enriched with music stol'n from earth away. + + He hath returned to regions whence he came. +Him doth the spirit divine +Of universal loveliness reclaim. +All nature is his shrine. +Seek him henceforward in the wind and sea, +In earth's and air's emotion or repose, +In every star's august serenity, +And in the rapture of the flaming rose. +There seek him if ye would not seek in vain, +There, in the rhythm and music of the Whole; +Yea, and for ever in the human soul +Made stronger and more beauteous by his strain. + + For lo! creation's self is one great choir, +And what is nature's order but the rhyme +Whereto the worlds keep time, +And all things move with all things from their prime? +Who shall expound the mystery of the lyre? +In far retreats of elemental mind +Obscurely comes and goes +The imperative breath of song, that as the wind +Is trackless, and oblivious whence it blows. +Demand of lilies wherefore they are white, +Extort her crimson secret from the rose, +But ask not of the Muse that she disclose +The meaning of the riddle of her might: +Somewhat of all things sealed and recondite, +Save the enigma of herself, she knows. +The master could not tell, with all his lore, +Wherefore he sang, or whence the mandate sped; +Ev'n as the linnet sings, so I, he said;-- +Ah, rather as the imperial nightingale, +That held in trance the ancient Attic shore, +And charms the ages with the notes that o'er +All woodland chants immortally prevail! +And now, from our vain plaudits greatly fled, +He with diviner silence dwells instead, +And on no earthly sea with transient roar, +Unto no earthly airs, he trims his sail, +But far beyond our vision and our hail +Is heard for ever and is seen no more. + + No more, O never now, +Lord of the lofty and the tranquil brow +Whereon nor snows of time +Have fall'n, nor wintry rime, +Shall men behold thee, sage and mage sublime. +Once, in his youth obscure, +The maker of this verse, which shall endure +By splendour of its theme that cannot die, +Beheld thee eye to eye, +And touched through thee the hand +Of every hero of thy race divine, +Ev'n to the sire of all the laurelled line, +The sightless wanderer on the Ionian strand, +With soul as healthful as the poignant brine, +Wide as his skies and radiant as his seas, +Starry from haunts of his Familiars nine, +Glorious Mæonides. +Yea, I beheld thee, and behold thee yet: +Thou hast forgotten, but can I forget? +The accents of thy pure and sovereign tongue, +Are they not ever goldenly impressed +On memory's palimpsest? +I see the wizard locks like night that hung, +I tread the floor thy hallowing feet have trod; +I see the hands a nation's lyre that strung, +The eyes that looked through life and gazed on God. + + The seasons change, the winds they shift and veer; +The grass of yesteryear +Is dead; the birds depart, the groves decay: +Empires dissolve and peoples disappear: +Song passes not away. +Captains and conquerors leave a little dust, +And kings a dubious legend of their reign; +The swords of Cæsars, they are less than rust: +The poet doth remain. +Dead is Augustus, Maro is alive; +And thou, the Mantuan of our age and clime, +Like Virgil shalt thy race and tongue survive, +Bequeathing no less honeyed words to time, +Embalmed in amber of eternal rhyme, +And rich with sweets from every Muse's hive; +While to the measure of the cosmic rune +For purer ears thou shalt thy lyre attune, +And heed no more the hum of idle praise +In that great calm our tumults cannot reach, +Master who crown'st our immelodious days +With flower of perfect speech. + + + +DEDICATION OF "THE DREAM OF MAN" + +TO LONDON, MY HOSTESS + +City that waitest to be sung,-- + For whom no hand +To mighty strains the lyre hath strung + In all this land, +Though mightier theme the mightiest ones + Sang not of old, +The thrice three sisters' godlike sons + With lips of gold,-- +Till greater voice thy greatness sing + In loftier times, +Suffer an alien muse to bring + Her votive rhymes. + +Yes, alien in thy midst am I, + Not of thy brood; +The nursling of a norland sky + Of rougher mood: +To me, thy tarrying guest, to me, + 'Mid thy loud hum, +Strayed visions of the moor or sea + Tormenting come. +Above the thunder of the wheels + That hurry by, +From lapping of lone waves there steals + A far-sent sigh; + +And many a dream-reared mountain crest + My feet have trod, +There where thy Minster in the West + Gropes toward God. +Yet, from thy presence if I go, + By woodlands deep +Or ocean-fringes, thou, I know, + Wilt haunt my sleep; +Thy restless tides of life will foam, + Still, in my sight; +Thy imperturbable dark dome + Will crown my night. + +O sea of living waves that roll + On golden sands, +Or break on tragic reef and shoal + 'Mid fatal lands; +O forest wrought of living leaves, + Some filled with Spring, +Where joy life's festal raiment weaves + And all birds sing,-- +Some trampled in the miry ways, + Or whirled along +By fury of tempestuous days,-- + Take thou my song! + +For thou hast scorned not heretofore + The gifts of rhyme +I dropped, half faltering, at thy door, + City sublime; +And though 'tis true I am but guest + Within thy gate, +Unto thy hands I owe the best + Awards of fate. +Imperial hostess! thanks from me + To thee belong: +O living forest, living sea, + Take thou my song! + + + +THE DREAM OF MAN + +To the eye and the ear of the Dreamer + This Dream out of darkness flew, +Through the horn or the ivory portal, + But he wist not which of the two. + +It was the Human Spirit, + Of all men's souls the Soul, +Man the unwearied climber, + That climbed to the unknown goal. +And up the steps of the ages, + The difficult steep ascent, +Man the unwearied climber + Pauseless and dauntless went. +Æons rolled behind him + With thunder of far retreat, +And still as he strove he conquered + And laid his foes at his feet. +Inimical powers of nature, + Tempest and flood and fire, +The spleen of fickle seasons + That loved to baulk his desire, +The breath of hostile climates, + The ravage of blight and dearth, +The old unrest that vexes + The heart of the moody earth, +The genii swift and radiant + Sabreing heaven with flame, +He, with a keener weapon, + The sword of his wit, overcame. +Disease and her ravening offspring, + Pain with the thousand teeth, +He drave into night primeval, + The nethermost worlds beneath, +Till the Lord of Death, the undying, + Ev'n Asraël the King, +No more with Furies for heralds + Came armed with scourge and sting, +But gentle of voice and of visage, + By calm Age ushered and led, +A guest, serenely featured, + Entering, woke no dread. +And, as the rolling æons + Retreated with pomp of sound, +Man's spirit, grown too lordly + For this mean orb to bound, +By arts in his youth undreamed of + His terrene fetters broke, +With enterprise ethereal + Spurning the natal yoke, +And, stung with divine ambition, + And fired with a glorious greed, +He annexed the stars and the planets + And peopled them with his seed. + +Then said he, "The infinite Scripture + I have read and interpreted clear, +And searching all worlds I have found not + My sovereign or my peer. +In what room of the palace of nature + Resides the invisible God? +For all her doors I have opened, + And all her floors I have trod. +If greater than I be her tenant, + Let him answer my challenging call: +Till then I admit no rival, + But crown myself master of all." +And forth as that word went bruited, + By Man unto Man were raised +Fanes of devout self-homage, + Where he who praised was the praised; +And from vast unto vast of creation + The new evangel ran, +And an odour of world-wide incense + Went up from Man unto Man; +Until, on a solemn feast-day, + When the world's usurping lord +At a million impious altars + His own proud image adored, +God spake as He stept from His ambush: + "O great in thine own conceit, +I will show thee thy source, how humble, + Thy goal, for a god how unmeet." + +Thereat, by the word of the Maker + The Spirit of Man was led +To a mighty peak of vision, + Where God to His creature said: +"Look eastward toward time's sunrise." + And, age upon age untold, +The Spirit of Man saw clearly + The Past as a chart out-rolled,-- +Beheld his base beginnings + In the depths of time, and his strife, +With beasts and crawling horrors + For leave to live, when life +Meant but to slay and to procreate, + To feed and to sleep, among +Mere mouths, voracities boundless, + Blind lusts, desires without tongue, +And ferocities vast, fulfilling + Their being's malignant law, +While nature was one hunger, + And one hate, all fangs and maw. + +With that, for a single moment, + Abashed at his own descent, +In humbleness Man's Spirit + At the feet of the Maker bent; +But, swifter than light, he recovered + The stature and pose of his pride, +And, "Think not thus to shame me + With my mean birth," he cried. +"This is my loftiest greatness, + To have been born so low; +Greater than Thou the ungrowing + Am I that for ever grow." +And God forbore to rebuke him, + But answered brief and stern, +Bidding him toward time's sunset + His vision westward turn; +And the Spirit of Man obeying + Beheld as a chart out-rolled +The likeness and form of the Future, + Age upon age untold; +Beheld his own meridian, + And beheld his dark decline, +His secular fall to nadir + From summits of light divine, +Till at last, amid worlds exhausted, + And bankrupt of force and fire, +'Twas his, in a torrent of darkness, + Like a sputtering lamp to expire. + +Then a war of shame and anger + Did the realm of his soul divide; +"'Tis false, 'tis a lying vision," + In the face of his God he cried. +"Thou thinkest to daunt me with shadows; + Not such as Thou feign'st is my doom: +From glory to rise unto glory + Is mine, who have risen from gloom. +I doubt if Thou knew'st at my making + How near to thy throne I should climb, +O'er the mountainous slopes of the ages + And the conquered peaks of time. +Nor shall I look backward nor rest me + Till the uttermost heights I have trod, +And am equalled with Thee or above Thee, + The mate or the master of God." + +Ev'n thus Man turned from the Maker, + With thundered defiance wild, +And God with a terrible silence + Reproved the speech of His child. +And man returned to his labours, + And stiffened the neck of his will; +And the æons still went rolling, + And his power was crescent still. +But yet there remained to conquer + One foe, and the greatest--although +Despoiled of his ancient terrors, + At heart, as of old, a foe-- +Unmaker of all, and renewer, + Who winnows the world with his wing, +The Lord of Death, the undying, + Ev'n Asraël the King. + +And lo, Man mustered his forces + The war of wars to wage, +And with storm and thunder of onset + Did the foe of foes engage, +And the Lord of Death, the undying, + Was beset and harried sore, +In his immemorial fastness + At night's aboriginal core. +And during years a thousand + Man leaguered his enemy's hold, +While nature was one deep tremor, + And the heart of the world waxed cold, +Till the phantom battlements wavered, + And the ghostly fortress fell, +And Man with shadowy fetters + Bound fast great Asraël. + +So, to each star in the heavens, + The exultant word was blown, +The annunciation tremendous, + _Death is overthrown!_ +And Space in her ultimate borders + Prolonging the jubilant tone, +With hollow ingeminations, + Sighed, _Death is overthrown!_ +And God in His house of silence, + Where He dwelleth aloof, alone, +Paused in His tasks to hearken: + _Death is overthrown!_ + +Then a solemn and high thanksgiving + By Man unto Man was sung, +In his temples of self-adoration, + With his own multitudinous tongue; +And he said to his Soul: "Rejoice thou + For thy last great foe lies bound, +Ev'n Asraël the Unmaker, + Unmade, disarmed, discrowned." + +And behold, his Soul rejoiced not, + The breath of whose being was strife, +For life with nothing to vanquish + Seemed but the shadow of life. +No goal invited and promised + And divinely provocative shone; +And Fear having fled, her sister, + Blest Hope, in her train was gone; +And the coping and crown of achievement + Was hell than defeat more dire-- +The torment of all-things-compassed, + The plague of nought-to-desire; +And Man the invincible queller, + Man with his foot on his foes, +In boundless satiety hungred, + Restless from utter repose, +Victor of nature, victor + Of the prince of the powers of the air, +By mighty weariness vanquished, + And crowned with august despair. + +Then, at his dreadful zenith, + He cried unto God: "O Thou +Whom of old in my days of striving + Methought I needed not,--now, +In this my abject glory, + My hopeless and helpless might, +Hearken and cheer and succour!" + And God from His lonely height, +From eternity's passionless summits, + On suppliant Man looked down, +And His brow waxed human with pity, + Belying its awful crown. +"Thy richest possession," He answered, + "Blest Hope, will I restore, +And the infinite wealth of weakness + Which was thy strength of yore; +And I will arouse from slumber, + In his hold where bound he lies, +Thine enemy most benefic;-- + O Asraël, hear and rise!" + +And a sound like the heart of nature + Riven and cloven and torn, +Announced, to the ear universal, + Undying Death new-born. +Sublime he rose in his fetters, + And shook the chains aside +Ev'n as some mortal sleeper + 'Mid forests in autumntide +Rises and shakes off lightly + The leaves that lightly fell +On his limbs and his hair unheeded + While as yet he slumbered well. + +And Deity paused and hearkened, + Then turned to the undivine, +Saying, "O Man, My creature, + Thy lot was more blest than Mine. +I taste not delight of seeking, + Nor the boon of longing know. +There is but one joy transcendent, + And I hoard it not but bestow. +I hoard it not nor have tasted, + But freely I gave it to thee-- +The joy of most glorious striving, + Which dieth in victory." +Thus, to the Soul of the Dreamer, + This Dream out of darkness flew, +Through the horn or the ivory portal, + But he wist not which of the two. + + + +SHELLEY'S CENTENARY + +(4TH AUGUST 1892) + +Within a narrow span of time, +Three princes of the realm of rhyme, +At height of youth or manhood's prime, + From earth took wing, +To join the fellowship sublime + Who, dead, yet sing. + +He, first, his earliest wreath who wove +Of laurel grown in Latmian grove, +Conquered by pain and hapless love + Found calmer home, +Roofed by the heaven that glows above + Eternal Rome. + +A fierier soul, its own fierce prey, +And cumbered with more mortal clay, +At Missolonghi flamed away, + And left the air +Reverberating to this day + Its loud despair. + +Alike remote from Byron's scorn, +And Keats's magic as of morn +Bursting for ever newly-born + On forests old, +Waking a hoary world forlorn + With touch of gold, + +Shelley, the cloud-begot, who grew +Nourished on air and sun and dew, +Into that Essence whence he drew + His life and lyre +Was fittingly resolved anew + Through wave and fire. + +'Twas like his rapid soul! 'Twas meet +That he, who brooked not Time's slow feet, +With passage thus abrupt and fleet + Should hurry hence, +Eager the Great Perhaps to greet + With Why? and Whence? + +Impatient of the world's fixed way, +He ne'er could suffer God's delay, +But all the future in a day + Would build divine, +And the whole past in ruins lay, + An emptied shrine. + +Vain vision! but the glow, the fire, +The passion of benign desire, +The glorious yearning, lift him higher + Than many a soul +That mounts a million paces nigher + Its meaner goal. + +And power is his, if naught besides, +In that thin ether where he rides, +Above the roar of human tides + To ascend afar, +Lost in a storm of light that hides + His dizzy car. + +Below, the unhastening world toils on, +And here and there are victories won, +Some dragon slain, some justice done, + While, through the skies, +A meteor rushing on the sun, + He flares and dies. + +But, as he cleaves yon ether clear +Notes from the unattempted Sphere +He scatters to the enchanted ear + Of earth's dim throng, +Whose dissonance doth more endear + The showering song. + +In other shapes than he forecast +The world is moulded: his fierce blast,-- +His wild assault upon the Past,-- + These things are vain; +Revolt is transient: what _must_ last + Is that pure strain, + +Which seems the wandering voices blent +Of every virgin element,-- +A sound from ocean caverns sent,-- + An airy call +From the pavilioned firmament + O'erdoming all. + +And in this world of worldlings, where +Souls rust in apathy, and ne'er +A great emotion shakes the air, + And life flags tame, +And rare is noble impulse, rare + The impassioned aim, + +'Tis no mean fortune to have heard +A singer who, if errors blurred +His sight, had yet a spirit stirred + By vast desire, +And ardour fledging the swift word + With plumes of fire. + +A creature of impetuous breath, +Our torpor deadlier than death +He knew not; whatsoe'er he saith + Flashes with life: +He spurreth men, he quickeneth + To splendid strife. + +And in his gusts of song he brings +Wild odours shaken from strange wings, +And unfamiliar whisperings + From far lips blown, +While all the rapturous heart of things + Throbs through his own,-- + +His own that from the burning pyre +One who had loved his wind-swept lyre +Out of the sharp teeth of the fire + Unmolten drew, +Beside the sea that in her ire + Smote him and slew. + + + +A GOLDEN HOUR + +A beckoning spirit of gladness seemed afloat, + That lightly danced in laughing air before us: +The earth was all in tune, and you a note + Of Nature's happy chorus. + +'Twas like a vernal morn, yet overhead + The leafless boughs across the lane were knitting: +The ghost of some forgotten Spring, we said, + O'er Winter's world comes flitting. + +Or was it Spring herself, that, gone astray, + Beyond the alien frontier chose to tarry? +Or but some bold outrider of the May, + Some April-emissary? + +The apparition faded on the air, + Capricious and incalculable comer.-- +Wilt thou too pass, and leave my chill days bare, + And fall'n my phantom Summer? + + + +AT THE GRAVE OF CHARLES LAMB, IN EDMONTON + +Not here, O teeming City, was it meet + Thy lover, thy most faithful, should repose, + But where the multitudinous life-tide flows +Whose ocean-murmur was to him more sweet +Than melody of birds at morn, or bleat + Of flocks in Spring-time, _there_ should Earth enclose + His earth, amid thy thronging joys and woes, +There, 'neath the music of thy million feet. +In love of thee this lover knew no peer. + Thine eastern or thy western fane had made + Fit habitation for his noble shade. +Mother of mightier, nurse of none more dear, +Not here, in rustic exile, O not here, + Thy Elia like an alien should be laid! + + + +LINES IN A FLYLEAF OF "CHRISTABEL" + +Inhospitably hast thou entertained, +O Poet, us the bidden to thy board, +Whom in mid-feast, and while our thousand mouths +Are one laudation of the festal cheer, +Thou from thy table dost dismiss, unfilled. +Yet loudlier thee than many a lavish host +We praise, and oftener thy repast half-served +Than many a stintless banquet, prodigally +Through satiate hours prolonged; nor praise less well +Because with tongues thou hast not cloyed, and lips +That mourn the parsimony of affluent souls, +And mix the lamentation with the laud. + + + +LINES TO OUR NEW CENSOR + +[Mr. Oscar Wilde, having discovered that England is unworthy +of him, has announced his resolve to become a naturalised +Frenchman.] + +And wilt thou, Oscar, from us flee, + And must we, henceforth, wholly sever? +Shall thy laborious _jeux-d'esprit_ + Sadden our lives no more for ever? + +And all thy future wilt thou link + With that brave land to which thou goest? +Unhappy France! we _used_ to think + She touched, at Sedan, fortune's lowest. + +And you're made French as easily + As you might change the clothes you're wearing? +Fancy!--and 'tis so hard to be + A man of sense and modest bearing. + +May fortitude beneath this blow + Fail not the gallant Gallic nation! +By past experience, well we know + Her genius for recuperation. + +And as for us--to our disgrace, + Your stricture's truth must be conceded: +Would any but a stupid race + Have made the fuss about you _we_ did? + + + +RELUCTANT SUMMER + +Reluctant Summer! once, a maid + Full easy of access, +In many a bee-frequented shade + Thou didst thy lover bless. +Divinely unreproved I played, + Then, with each liberal tress-- +And art thou grown at last afraid + Of some too close caress? + +Or deem'st that if thou shouldst abide + My passion might decay? +Thou leav'st me pining and denied, + Coyly thou say'st me nay. +Ev'n as I woo thee to my side, + Thou, importuned to stay, +Like Orpheus' half-recovered bride + Ebb'st from my arms away. + + + +THE GREAT MISGIVING + +"Not ours," say some, "the thought of death to dread; + Asking no heaven, we fear no fabled hell: +Life is a feast, and we have banqueted-- + Shall not the worms as well? + +"The after-silence, when the feast is o'er, + And void the places where the minstrels stood, +Differs in nought from what hath been before, + And is nor ill nor good." + +Ah, but the Apparition--the dumb sign-- + The beckoning finger bidding me forego +The fellowship, the converse, and the wine, + The songs, the festal glow! + +And ah, to know not, while with friends I sit, + And while the purple joy is passed about, +Whether 'tis ampler day divinelier lit + Or homeless night without; + +And whether, stepping forth, my soul shall see + New prospects, or fall sheer--a blinded thing! +_There_ is, O grave, thy hourly victory, + And there, O death, thy sting. + + + +"THE THINGS THAT ARE MORE EXCELLENT" + +As we wax older on this earth, + Till many a toy that charmed us seems +Emptied of beauty, stripped of worth, + And mean as dust and dead as dreams,-- +For gauds that perished, shows that passed, + Some recompense the Fates have sent: +Thrice lovelier shine the things that last, + The things that are more excellent. + +Tired of the Senate's barren brawl, + An hour with silence we prefer, +Where statelier rise the woods than all + Yon towers of talk at Westminster. +Let this man prate and that man plot, + On fame or place or title bent: +The votes of veering crowds are not + The things that are more excellent. + +Shall we perturb and vex our soul + For "wrongs" which no true freedom mar, +Which no man's upright walk control, + And from no guiltless deed debar? +What odds though tonguesters heal, or leave + Unhealed, the grievance they invent? +To things, not phantoms, let us cleave-- + The things that are more excellent. + +Nought nobler is, than to be free: + The stars of heaven are free because +In amplitude of liberty + Their joy is to obey the laws. +From servitude to freedom's _name_ + Free thou thy mind in bondage pent; +Depose the fetich, and proclaim + The things that are more excellent. + +And in appropriate dust be hurled + That dull, punctilious god, whom they +That call their tiny clan the world, + Serve and obsequiously obey: +Who con their ritual of Routine, + With minds to one dead likeness blent, +And never ev'n in dreams have seen + The things that are more excellent. + +To dress, to call, to dine, to break + No canon of the social code, +The little laws that lacqueys make, + The futile decalogue of Mode,-- +How many a soul for these things lives, + With pious passion, grave intent! +While Nature careless-handed gives + The things that are more excellent. + +To hug the wealth ye cannot use, + And lack the riches all may gain,-- +O blind and wanting wit to choose, + Who house the chaff and burn the grain! +And still doth life with starry towers + Lure to the bright, divine ascent!-- +Be yours the things ye would: be ours + The things that are more excellent. + +The grace of friendship--mind and heart + Linked with their fellow heart and mind; +The gains of science, gifts of art; + The sense of oneness with our kind; +The thirst to know and understand-- + A large and liberal discontent: +These are the goods in life's rich hand, + The things that are more excellent. + +In faultless rhythm the ocean rolls, + A rapturous silence thrills the skies; +And on this earth are lovely souls, + That softly look with aidful eyes. +Though dark, O God, Thy course and track, + I think Thou must at least have meant +That nought which lives should wholly lack + The things that are more excellent. + + + +BEAUTY'S METEMPSYCHOSIS + + That beauty such as thine + Can die indeed, +Were ordinance too wantonly malign: +No wit may reconcile so cold a creed + With beauty such as thine. + + From wave and star and flower + Some effluence rare +Was lent thee, a divine but transient dower: +Thou yield'st it back from eyes and lips and hair + To wave and star and flower. + + Shouldst thou to-morrow die, + Thou still shalt be +Found in the rose and met in all the sky: +And from the ocean's heart shalt sing to me, + Shouldst thou to-morrow die. + + + +ENGLAND MY MOTHER + +I + +England my mother, +Wardress of waters. +Builder of peoples, + Maker of men,-- + +Hast thou yet leisure +Left for the muses? +Heed'st thou the songsmith + Forging the rhyme? + +Deafened with tumults, +How canst thou hearken? +Strident is faction, + Demos is loud. + +Lazarus, hungry, +Menaces Dives; +Labour the giant + Chafes in his hold. + +Yet do the songsmiths +Quit not their forges; +Still on life's anvil + Forge they the rhyme. + +Still the rapt faces +Glow from the furnace: +Breath of the smithy + Scorches their brows. + +Yea, and thou hear'st them? +So shall the hammers +Fashion not vainly + Verses of gold. + + +II + +Lo, with the ancient +Roots of man's nature, +Twines the eternal + Passion of song. + +Ever Love fans it, +Ever Life feeds it, +Time cannot age it; + Death cannot slay. + +Deep in the world-heart +Stand its foundations, +Tangled with all things, + Twin-made with all. + +Nay, what is Nature's +Self, but an endless +Strife toward music, + Euphony, rhyme? + +Trees in their blooming, +Tides in their flowing, +Stars in their circling, + Tremble with song. + +God on His throne is +Eldest of poets: +Unto His measures + Moveth the Whole. + + +III + +Therefore deride not +Speech of the muses, +England my mother, + Maker of men. + +Nations are mortal, +Fragile is greatness; +Fortune may fly thee, + Song shall not fly. + +Song the all-girdling, +Song cannot perish: +Men shall make music, + Man shall give ear. + +Not while the choric +Chant of creation +Floweth from all things, + Poured without pause, + +Cease we to echo +Faintly the descant +Whereto for ever + Dances the world. + + +IV + +So let the songsmith +Proffer his rhyme-gift, +England my mother, + Maker of men. + +Gray grows thy count'nance, +Full of the ages; +Time on thy forehead + Sits like a dream: + +Song is the potion +All things renewing, +Youth's one elixir, + Fountain of morn. + +Thou, at the world-loom +Weaving thy future, +Fitly may'st temper + Toil with delight. + +Deemest thou, labour +Only is earnest? +Grave is all beauty, + Solemn is joy. + +Song is no bauble-- +Slight not the songsmith, +England my mother, + Maker of men. + + + +NIGHT + +In the night, in the night, +When thou liest alone, +Ah, the sounds that are blown + In the freaks of the breeze, +By the spirit that sends +The voice of far friends + With the sigh of the seas + In the night! + +In the night, in the night, +When thou liest alone, +Ah, the ghosts that make moan + From the days that are sped: +The old dreams, the old deeds, +The old wound that still bleeds, + And the face of the dead + In the night! + +In the night, in the night, +When thou liest alone, +With the grass and the stone + O'er thy chamber so deep, +Ah, the silence at last, +Life's dissonance past, + And only pure sleep + In the night! + + + +THE FUGITIVE IDEAL + +As some most pure and noble face, + Seen in the thronged and hurrying street, +Sheds o'er the world a sudden grace, + A flying odour sweet, +Then, passing, leaves the cheated sense +Baulked with a phantom excellence; + +So, on our soul the visions rise + Of that fair life we never led: +They flash a splendour past our eyes, + We start, and they are fled: +They pass, and leave us with blank gaze, +Resigned to our ignoble days. + + + +"THE FORESTERS" + +(Lines written on the appearance of Lord Tennyson's drama.) + +Clear as of old the great voice rings to-day, +While Sherwood's oak-leaves twine with Aldworth's bay: +The voice of him the master and the sire +Of one whole age and legion of the lyre, +Who sang his morning-song when Coleridge still +Uttered dark oracles from Highgate Hill, +And with new-launchèd argosies of rhyme +Gilds and makes brave this sombreing tide of time. +Far be the hour when lesser brows shall wear +The laurel glorious from that wintry hair-- +When he, the sovereign of our lyric day, +In Charon's shallop must be rowed away, +And hear, scarce heeding, 'mid the plash of oar, +The _ave atque vale_ from the shore! + +To him nor tender nor heroic muse +Did her divine confederacy refuse: +To all its moods the lyre of life he strung, +And notes of death fell deathless from his tongue. +Himself the Merlin of his magic strain, +He bade old glories break in gloom again; +And so exempted from oblivious doom, +Through him these days shall fadeless break in bloom. + + + +SONG + +Lightly we met in the morn, + Lightly we parted at eve. +There was never a thought of the thorn + The rose of a day might leave. + +Fate's finger we did not perceive, + So lightly we met in the morn! +So lightly we parted at eve + We knew not that Love was born. + +I rose on the morrow forlorn, + To pine and remember and grieve. +Too lightly we met in the morn! + Too lightly we parted at eve! + + + +COLUMBUS + +(12TH OCTOBER 1492) + +From his adventurous prime +He dreamed the dream sublime: + Over his wandering youth + It hung, a beckoning star. +At last the vision fled, +And left him in its stead + The scarce sublimer truth, + The world he found afar. + +The scattered isles that stand +Warding the mightier land + Yielded their maidenhood + To his imperious prow. +The mainland within call +Lay vast and virginal: + In its blue porch he stood: + No more did fate allow. + +No more! but ah, how much, +To be the first to touch + The veriest azure hem + Of that majestic robe! +Lord of the lordly sea, +Earth's mightiest sailor he: + Great Captain among them, + The captors of the globe. + +When shall the world forget +Thy glory and our debt, + Indomitable soul, + Immortal Genoese? +Not while the shrewd salt gale +Whines amid shroud and sail, + Above the rhythmic roll + And thunder of the seas. + + + +THE PRINCE'S QUEST +AND OTHER POEMS + + + +THE PRINCE'S QUEST + +PART THE FIRST + + There was a time, it passeth me to say +How long ago, but sure 'twas many a day +Before the world had gotten her such store +Of foolish wisdom as she hath,--before +She fell to waxing gray with weight of years +And knowledge, bitter knowledge, bought with tears,-- +When it did seem as if the feet of time +Moved to the music of a golden rhyme, +And never one false thread might woven be +Athwart that web of worldwide melody. +'Twas then there lived a certain queen and king, +Unvext of wars or other evil thing, +Within a spacious palace builded high, +Whence they might see their chiefest city lie +About them, and half hear from their tall towers +Its populous murmur through the daylight hours, +And see beyond its walls the pleasant plain. +One child they had, these blissful royal twain: +Of whom 'tis told--so more than fair was he-- +There lurked at whiles a something shadowy +Deep down within the fairness of his face; +As 'twere a hint of some not-earthly grace, +Making the royal stripling rather seem +The very dreaming offspring of a dream +Than human child of human ancestry: +And something strange-fantastical was he, +I doubt not. Howsoever he upgrew, +And after certain years to manhood drew +Nigh, so that all about his father's court, +Seeing his graciousness of princely port, +Rejoiced thereat; and many maidens' eyes +Look'd pleased upon his beauty, and the sighs +Of many told I know not what sweet tales. + + So, like to some fair ship with sunlit sails, +Glided his youth amid a stormless sea, +Till once by night there came mysteriously +A fateful wind, and o'er an unknown deep +Bore him perforce. It chanced that while in sleep +He lay, there came to him a strange dim dream. +'Twas like as he did float adown a stream, +In a lone boat that had nor sail nor oar +Yet seemed as it would glide for evermore, +Deep in the bosom of a sultry land +Fair with all fairness. Upon either hand +Were hills green-browed and mist-engarlanded, +And all about their feet were woods bespread, +Hoarding the cool and leafy silentness +In many an unsunned hollow and hid recess. +Nought of unbeauteous might be there espied; +But in the heart of the deep woods and wide, +And in the heart of all, was Mystery-- +A something more than outer eye might see, +A something more than ever ear might hear. +The very birds that came and sang anear +Did seem to syllable some faery tongue, +And, singing much, to hold yet more unsung. +And heard at whiles, with hollow wandering tone, +Far off, as by some aery huntsmen blown, +Faint-echoing horns, among the mountains wound, +Made all the live air tremulous with sound. + + So hour by hour (thus ran the Prince's dream) +Glided the boat along the broadening stream; +Till, being widowed of the sun her lord, +The purblind day went groping evenward: +Whereafter Sleep compelled to his mild yoke +The bubbling clear souls of the feathered folk, +Sealing the vital fountains of their song. +Howbeit the Prince went onward all night long +And never shade of languor came on him, +Nor any weariness his eyes made dim. +And so in season due he heard the breath +Of the brief winds that wake ere darkness' death +Sigh through the woods and all the valley wide: +The rushes by the water answering sighed: +Sighed all the river from its reedy throat. +And like a wingèd creature went the boat, +Over the errant water wandering free, +As some lone seabird over a lone sea. + + And Morn pale-haired with watery wide eyes +Look'd up. And starting with a swift surprise, +Sprang to his feet the Prince, and forward leant, +His gaze on something right before him bent +That like a towered and templed city showed, +Afar off, dim with very light, and glowed +As burnished seas at sundawn when the waves +Make amber lightnings all in dim-roof'd caves +That fling mock-thunder back. Long leagues away, +Down by the river's green right bank it lay, +Set like a jewel in the golden morn: +But ever as the Prince was onward borne, +Nearer and nearer danced the dizzy fires +Of domes innumerable and sun-tipt spires +And many a sky-acquainted pinnacle, +Splendid beyond what mortal tongue may tell; +And ere the middle heat of day was spent, +He saw, by nearness thrice-magnificent, +Hardly a furlong's space before him lie +The City, sloping to the stream thereby. + + And therewithal the boat of its own will +Close to the shore began to glide, until, +All of a sudden passing nigh to where +The glistering white feet of a marble stair +Ran to the rippled brink, the Prince outsprang +Upon the gleamy steps, and wellnigh sang +For joy, to be once more upon his feet, +Amid the green grass and the flowers sweet. +So on he paced along the river-marge, +And saw full many a fair and stately barge, +Adorned with strange device and imagery, +At anchor in the quiet waters lie. +And presently he came unto a gate +Of massy gold, that shone with splendid state +Of mystic hieroglyphs, and storied frieze +All overwrought with carven phantasies. +And in the shadow of the golden gate, +One in the habit of a porter sate, +And on the Prince with wondering eye looked he, +And greeted him with reverent courtesy, +Saying, "Fair sir, thou art of mortal race, +The first hath ever journeyed to this place,-- +For well I know thou art a stranger here, +As by the garb thou wearest doth appear; +And if thy raiment do belie thee not, +Thou should'st be some king's son. And well I wot, +If that be true was prophesied of yore, +A wondrous fortune is for thee in store; +For though I be not read in Doomful Writ, +Oft have I heard the wise expounding it, +And, of a truth, the fatal rolls declare +_That the first mortal who shall hither fare +Shall surely have our Maiden-Queen to wife, +And while the world lives shall they twain have life. _" + + Hereat, be sure, the wonder-stricken youth, +Holden in doubt if this were lies or truth, +Was tongue-tied with amaze, and sore perplext, +Unknowing what strange thing might chance him next, +And ere he found fit words to make reply, +The porter bade a youth who stood hard by +Conduct the princely stranger, as was meet, +Through the great golden gate into the street, +And thence o'er all the city, wheresoe'er +Was aught to show of wonderful or fair. + + With that the Prince, beside his willing guide, +Went straightway through the gate, and stood inside +The wall, that, builded of a rare white stone, +Clasp'd all the city like a silver zone. +And thence down many a shining street they passed, +Each one appearing goodlier than the last, +Cool with the presence of innumerous trees +And fountains playing before palaces. +And whichsoever way the Prince might look, +Another marvel, and another, took +His wildered eyes with very wonderment. +And holding talk together as they went, +The Prince besought his guide to tell him why +Of all the many folk that passed them by +There was not one that had the looks of eld, +Or yet of life's mid-years; for they beheld +Only young men and maidens everywhere, +Nor ever saw they one that was not fair. +Whereat the stripling: "Master, thou hast seen, +Belike, the river that doth flow between +Flowers and grasses at the city's feet?" +And when the Prince had rendered answer meet, +"Then," said the other, "know that whosoe'er +Drinks of the water thou beheldest there +(It matters not how many are his years) +Thenceforward from that moment he appears +Like as he was in youthly days, before +His passèd summers told beyond a score: +And so the people of this land possess +Unto all time their youth and comeliness." + + Scarce had his mouth made answer when there rose +Somewhat of tumult, ruffling the repose +Of the wide splendid street; and lifting up +His eyes, the Prince beheld a glittering troop +Of horsemen, each upon a beauteous steed, +Toward them coming at a gentle speed. +And as the cavalcade came on apace, +A sudden pleasure lit the stripling's face +Who bore him company and was his guide; +And "Lo, thou shalt behold our queen," he cried,-- +"Even the fairest of the many fair; +With whom was never maiden might compare +For very loveliness!" While yet he spake, +On all the air a silver sound 'gan break +Of jubilant and many-tongued acclaim, +And in a shining car the bright queen came, +And looking forth upon the multitude +Her eyes beheld the stranger where he stood, +And round about him was the loyal stir: +And all his soul went out in love to her. + + But even while her gaze met his, behold, +The city and its marvels manifold +Seemed suddenly removed far off, and placed +Somewhere in Twilight; and withal a waste +Of sudden waters lay like time between; +And over all that space he heard the queen +Calling unto him from her chariot; +And then came darkness. And the Dream was not. + + +PART THE SECOND + + A fearful and a lovely thing is Sleep, +And mighty store of secrets hath in keep; +And those there were of old who well could guess +What meant his fearfulness and loveliness, +And all his many shapes of life and death, +And all the secret things he uttereth. +But Wisdom lacketh sons like those that were, +And Sleep hath never an interpreter: +So there be none that know to read aright +The riddles he propoundeth every night. + + And verily, of all the wondrous things +By potence wrought of mortal visionings +In that dark house whereof Sleep hath the keys-- +Of suchlike miracles and mysteries +Not least, meseems, is this among them all: +That one in dream enamoured should fall, +And ever afterward, in waking thought, +Worship the phantom which the dream hath brought. +Howbeit such things have been, and in such wise +Did that king's son behold, with mortal eyes, +A more than mortal loveliness, and thus +Was stricken through with love miraculous. + + For evermore thereafter he did seem +To see that royal maiden of his dream +Unto her palace riding sovranly; +And much he marvelled where that land might be +That basking lay beneath her beauty's beams, +Well knowing in his heart that suchlike dreams +Come not in idleness but evermore +Are Fate's veiled heralds that do fly before +Their mighty master as he journeyeth, +And sing strange songs of life and love and death. +And so he did scarce aught but dream all day +Of that far land revealed of sleep, that lay +He knew not where; and musing more and more +On her the mistress of that unknown shore, +There fell a sadness on him, thus to be +Vext with desire of her he might not see +Yet could not choose but long for; till erewhile +Nor man nor woman might behold the smile +Make sudden morning of his countenance, +But likest one he seemed half-sunk, in trance, +That wanders groping in a shadowy land, +Hearing strange things that none can understand. +Now after many days and nights had passed, +The queen, his mother well-beloved, at last, +Being sad at heart because his heart was sad, +Would e'en be told what hidden cause he had +To be cast down in so mysterious wise: +And he, beholding by her tearful eyes +How of his grief she was compassionate, +No more a secret made thereof, but straight +Discovered to her all about his dream-- +The mystic happy marvel of the stream. +A fountain running Youth to all the land; +Flowing with deep dim woods on either hand +Where through the boughs did birds of strange song flit: +And all beside the bloomy banks of it +The city with its towers and domes far-seen. +And then he told her how that city's queen +Did pass before him like a breathing flower, +That he had loved her image from that hour. +"And sure am I," upspake the Prince at last, +"That somewhere in this world so wide and vast +Lieth the land mine eyes have inly seen;-- +Perhaps in very truth my spirit hath been +Translated thither, and in very truth +Hath seen the brightness of that city of youth. +Who knows?--for I have heard a wise man say +How that in sleep the souls of mortals may, +At certain seasons which the stars decree, +From bondage of the body be set free +To visit farthest countries, and be borne +Back to their fleshly houses ere the morn." + + At this the good queen, greatly marvelling, +Made haste to tell the story to the king; +Who hearing laughed her tale to scorn. But when +Weeks followed one another, and all men +About his person had begun to say +"What ails our Prince? He groweth day by day +Less like the Prince we knew ... wan cheeks, and eyes +Hollow for lack of sleep, and secret sighs.... +Some hidden grief the youth must surely have,"-- +Then like his queen the king himself wox grave; +And thus it chanced one summer eventide, +They sitting in an arbour side by side, +All unawares the Pince passed by that way, +And as he passed, unmark'd of either--they +Nought heeding but their own discourse--could hear +Amidst thereof his own name uttered clear, +And straight was 'ware it was the queen who spake, +And spake of him; whereat the king 'gan make +Answer in this wise, somewhat angerly: +"The youth is crazed, and but one remedy +Know I, to cure such madness--he shall wed +Some princess; ere another day be sped, +Myself will bid this dreamer go prepare +To take whom I shall choose to wife; some fair +And highborn maiden, worthy to be queen +Hereafter."--So the Prince, albeit unseen, +Heard, and his soul rebelled against the thing +His sire had willed; and slowly wandering +About the darkling pleasance--all amid +A maze of intertangled walks, or hid +In cedarn glooms, or where mysterious bowers +Were heavy with the breath of drowsèd flowers-- +Something, he knew not what, within his heart +Rose like a faint-heard voice and said "Depart +From hence and follow where thy dream shall lead." +And fain would he have followed it indeed, +But wist not whither it would have him go. + + Howbeit, while yet he wandered to and fro, +Among his thoughts a chance remembrance leapt +All sudden--like a seed, that long hath slept +In earth, upspringing as a flower at last, +When he that sowed forgetteth where 'twas cast; +A chance remembrance of the tales men told +Concerning one whose wisdom manifold +Made all the world to wonder and revere-- +A mighty mage and learn'd astrologer +Who dwelt in honour at a great king's court +In a far country, whither did resort +Pilgrims innumerable from many lands, +Who crossed the wide seas and the desert sands +To learn of him the occult significance +Of some perplexing omen, or perchance +To hear forewhisperings of their destiny +And know what things in aftertime should be. +"Now surely," thought the Prince, "this subtile seer, +To whom the darkest things belike are clear, +Could read the riddle of my dream and tell +Where lieth that strange land delectable +Wherein mine empress hath her dwelling-place. +So might I look at last upon her face, +And make an end of all these weary sighs, +And melt into the shadow of her eyes!" +Thus musing, for a little space he stood +As holden to the spot; and evil, good, +Life, death, and earth beneath and heaven above, +Shrank up to less than shadows,--only Love, +With harpings of an hundred harps unseen, +Filled all the emptiness where these had been. + + But soon, like one that hath a sudden thought, +He lifted up his eyes, and turning sought +The halls once more where he was bred, and passed +Through court and corridor, and reached at last +His chamber, in a world of glimmer and gloom. +Here, while the moonrays filled the wide rich room, +The Prince in haste put off his courtly dress +For raiment of a lesser sumptuousness +(A sober habit such as might disguise +His royal rank in any stranger's eyes) +And taking in his hand three gems that made +Three several splendours in the moonlight, laid +These in his bosom, where no eye might see +The triple radiance; then all noiselessly +Down the wide stair from creaking floor to floor +Passed, and went out from the great palace-door. + + Crossing the spacious breadth of garden ground, +Wherein his footfalls were the only sound +Save the wind's wooing of the tremulous trees, +Forth of that region of imperial ease +He fared, amid the doubtful shadows dim, +No eye in all the place beholding him; +No eye, save only of the warders, who +Opened the gates that he might pass therethrough. + + And now to the safe-keeping of the night +Intrusted he the knowledge of his flight; +And quitting all the purlieus of the court, +Out from the city by a secret port +Went, and along the moonlit highway sped. +And himself spake unto himself and said +(Heard only of the silence in his heart) +"Tarry thou here no longer, but depart +Unto the land of the Great Mage; and seek +The Mage; and whatsoever he shall speak, +Give ear to that he saith, and reverent heed; +And wheresoever he may bid thee speed, +Thitherward thou shalt set thy face and go. +For surely one of so great lore must know +Where lies the land thou sawest in thy dream: +Nay, if he know not that,--why, then I deem +The wisdom of exceeding little worth +That reads the heavens but cannot read the earth." + + +PART THE THIRD + + So without rest or tarriance all that night, +Until the world was blear with coming light, +Forth fared the princely fugitive, nor stayed +His wearied feet till morn returning made +Some village all a-hum with wakeful stir; +And from that place the royal wayfarer +Went ever faster on and yet more fast, +Till, ere the noontide sultriness was past, +Upon his ear the burden of the seas +Came dreamlike, heard upon a cool fresh breeze +That tempered gratefully a fervent sky. +And many an hour ere sundown he drew nigh +A fair-built seaport, warder of the land +And watcher of the wave, with odours fanned +Of green fields and of blue from either side;-- +A pleasant place, wherein he might abide, +Unknown of man or woman, till such time +As any ship should sail to that far clime +Where lived the famous great astrologer. + + Entered within its gates, a wanderer +Besoiled with dust and no-wise richly drest, +Yet therewithal a prince and princeliest +Of princes, with the press of motley folk +He mixed unheeded and unknown, nor spoke +To any, no man speaking unto him, +But, being wearied sore in every limb, +Sought out a goodly hostel where he might +Rest him and eat and tarry for the night: +And having eaten he arose and passed +Down to the wharves where many a sail and mast +Showed fiery-dark against the setting sun: +There, holding talk with whom he chanced upon, +In that same hour by great good hap he found +The master of a vessel outward-bound +Upon the morrow for that selfsame port +Whither he sought to go (where dwelt at court +The mage deep-read in starry charact'ry). +An honest man and pleasant-tongued was he, +This worthy master-mariner; and since +He had no scorn of well-got gain, the Prince +Agreed to pay him certain sums in gold, +And go aboard his vessel, ere were told +Two hours of sunlight on the coming day; +And thus agreed they wended each his way, +For the dusk hour was nigh, and all the West +Lay emptied of its sun. But as he pressed +Up the long seaward-sloping street that ran +Through half the town, the Prince sought out a man +Who dealt in pearls and diamonds and all +Manner of stones which men do precious call; +To whom the least of his three gems he sold +For a great price, and laden with the gold +Forthwith returned unto his hostelry +And dreamed all night of seaports and the sea. + + Early the morrow-morn, a fair soft gale +Blowing from overland, the ship set sail +At turning of the tide; and from her deck +The Prince gazed till the town was but a speck, +And all the shore became a memory: +And still he gazed, though more he might not see +Than the wide waters and the great wide sky. +And many a long unchangeful day went by +Ere land was sighted, but at length uprose +A doubtful dusky something, toward the close +Of the last hour before one sultry noon: +Most like an isle of cloud it seemed, but soon +The sailors knew it for the wishèd strand, +And ere the evenfall they reached the land, +And that same night the royal wanderer lay +In a strange city, amid strange folk, till Day +Rose from the dim sea's lap and with his wings +Fanned into wakefulness all breathing things. + + Then he uprose, but going forth that morn +A sadness came upon him, and forlorn +He felt within himself, and nowise light +Of heart: for all his lonely travel might +Prove void and fruitless and of no avail, +(Thus pondered he) and should it wholly fail, +What then were left him for to do? Return +To his own country, that his kin might learn +To know him duped and fooled of fantasies, +Blown hither and thither by an idle breeze +From Dreamland? Or in lieu, perchance, of this, +Wander unresting, reft of hope and bliss, +A mariner on a sea that hath no coast, +Seeking a shade, himself a shade, and lost +In shadows, as a wave is lost i' the sea. + + Thus in a heart not lightsome pondered he, +And roamed from unfamiliar street to street, +Much marvelling that all he chanced to meet +Showed faces troubled as his own: for some +Did weep outright, and over all a gloom +Hung, as a cloud that blotteth out the sun. +Wherefore the Prince addressed him unto one +Of sadder visage even than the rest, +Who, ever as he walked, or beat his breast +Or groaned aloud or with his fingers rent +His robe, and, being besought to say what meant +This look of rue on all men's faces, cried +In loud amazement, "What, can any abide +Within this city, having ears to hear, +Yet know not how this morn the mighty seer +Hath died and left the land all desolate? +For now, when sudden ills befall the state, +There will be none to warn or prophesy +As he, but when calamities are nigh +No man will know till they be come and we +Be all undone together, woe is me!" + + Thus ended he his outcry and again +Passed on his way and mixed with other men +Scarce joyfuller than he, if less they spake. +Meanwhile upon the Prince's heart there brake +Grief like a bitter wind, beneath whose breath +Hope paled and sickened well-nigh unto death: +For lo, those dumb and formless fears that came +Within his heart that morn, and, like a flame +That flickers long and dimly ere it die, +Tarried and would not pass, but fitfully +Flickered and flared and paled and flared again,-- +Lo, those mysterious messengers of pain, +Dumb formless fears, were they not verified? +And lo, that voyage o'er the waters wide, +Was it not vain and a most empty thing? +And what might now the years avail to bring, +But hopes that barren live and barren die? + + Thus did his heart with many an inward sigh +Ask of itself, though answer there was none +To be returned: and so the day, begun +Tristfully, trailed an ever wearier wing; +Till toward night another questioning +Like a strange voice from far beset his soul: +And as a low wind wails for very dole +About a tarn whereof the listless wave +Maketh no answer to its plaining, save +A sound that seems the phantom of its own, +So that low voice making unbidden moan +No answer got, saving the many sighs +Its echoes; and in this reproachful wise, +Heaping new pain on him disconsolate, +The low voice spake and spake, importunate: +_O Prince that wast and wanderer that art, +Say doth love live within thy hidden heart +(Love born of dream but nurtured wakingly) +Ev'n as that Once when thy soul's eyes did see +Love's visible self, and worshipt? Or hast thou +Fall'n from thy faith in Her and Love ere now, +And is thy passion as a robe outworn? +Nay, love forbid! Yet wherefore art thou lorn +Of hope and peace if Love be still thine own? +For, were the wondrous vision thou hast known +Indeed Love's voice and Fate's (which are the same) +Then, even as surely as the vision came, +So surely shall it be fulfilled, if faith +Abide in thee; but if thy spirit saith +Treason of Love or Fate, and unbelief +House in thy heart, then surely shall swift grief +Find thee, and hope (that should be as a breath +Of song undying) shall even die the death, +And thou thyself the death-in-life shalt see, +O Prince that wast, O wanderer that shalt be!_ + + So spake the Voice. And in the pauses of +That secret Voice, there 'gan to wake and move, +Deep in his heart, a thing of blackest ill-- +The shapeless shadow men call Doubt, until +That hour all unacquainted with his soul: +And being tormented sore of this new dole, +There came on him a longing to explore +That sleep-discovered flowery land once more, +Isled in the dark of the soul; for he did deem +That were he once again to dream The Dream, +His faith new-stablished would stand, and be +No longer vext of this infirmity. +And so that night, ere lying down to sleep, +There came on him, half making him to weep +And half to laugh that such a thing should be, +A mad conceit and antic fantasy +(And yet more sad than merry was the whim) +To crave this boon of Sleep, beseeching him +To send the dream of dreams most coveted. +And ere he lay him down upon his bed, +A soft sweet song was born within his thought; +But if he sang the song, or if 'twas nought +But the soul's longing whispered to the soul, +Himself knew hardly, while the passion stole +From that still depth where passion lieth prone, +And voiced itself in this-like monotone: + +"O Sleep, thou hollow sea, thou soundless sea, +Dull-breaking on the shores of haunted lands, +Lo, I am thine: do what thou wilt with me. + +But while, as yet unbounden of thy bands, +I hear the breeze from inland chide and chafe +Along the margin of thy muttering sands, + +Somewhat I fain would crave, if thou vouchsafe +To hear mine asking, and to heed wilt deign. +Behold, I come to fling me as a waif + +Upon thy waters, O thou murmuring main! +So on some wasteful island cast not me, +Where phantom winds to phantom skies complain, + +And creeping terrors crawl from out the sea, +(For such thou hast)--but o'er thy waves not cold +Bear me to yonder land once more, where She + +Sits throned amidst of magic wealth untold: +Golden her palace, golden all her hair, +Golden her city 'neath a heaven of gold! + +So may I see in dreams her tresses fair +Down-falling, as a wave of sunlight rests +On some white cloud, about her shoulders bare, +Nigh to the snowdrifts twain which are her breasts." + + So ran the song,--say rather, so did creep, +With drowsy faltering feet unsure, till Sleep +Himself made end of it, with no rude touch +Sealing the lips that babbled overmuch. +Howbeit the boon of boons most coveted +Withholden was, and in that vision's stead +Another Dream from its dim hold uprose, +Which he who tells the tale shall straight disclose. + + +PART THE FOURTH + + That night he dreamed that over him there stole +A change miraculous, whereby his soul +Was parted from his body for a space, +And through a labyrinth of secret ways +Entered the world where dead men's ghosts abide +To seek the Seer who yestermorn had died. +And there in very truth he found the Seer, +Who gazing on him said, "What would'st thou here, +O royal-born, who visitest the coasts +Of darkness, and the dwellings of the ghosts?" + + Then said the Prince, "I fain would know to find +The land as yet untrod of mortal-kind +Which I beheld by gracious leave of Sleep." +To whom the Spirit: "O Prince, the seas are deep +And very wide betwixt thee and that land, +And who shall say how many days do stand, +As dim-seen armed hosts between thy bliss +And thee?--Moreover, in the world there is +A certain Emerald Stone which some do call +The Emerald of the Virtues Mystical; +(Though what those Virtues Mystical may be +None living knows) and since, O youth, to me +Thou dost apply for counsel, be it known +Except thou have this wondrous emerald stone, +Go seek through all the world, thou shalt not find +The land thou wouldst: but like the houseless wind +That roams the world to seek a resting-place, +Thou through inhospitable time and space +Shalt roam, till time and space deliver thee, +To spaceless, timeless, mute eternity. + + "For in a certain land there once did dwell +(How long ago it needs not I should tell) +At the king's court a great astrologer, +Ev'n such as erst was I, but mightier +And far excelling; and it came to pass +That he fell sick; and very old he was; +And knowing that his end was nigh, he said +To him that sat in sorrow by his bed, +'O master well-beloved and matchless king, +Take thou and keep this lowly offering +In memory of thy servant;' whereupon +The king perceived it was a gem that shone +Like the sea's heart: and on one side of it +This legend in an unknown tongue was writ-- +_Who holdeth Me may go where none hath fared +Before, and none shall follow afterward._ +So the king took the bright green stone betwixt +His fingers, and upon the legend fixed +His eyes, and said unto the dying Seer, +'Now who shall render this dark scripture clear +That I may know the meaning of the gift?' +And the mage oped his mouth and strove to lift +His voice, but could not, for the wishèd word +Clave to his rattling throat, that no man heard: +Whereby the soul, departing, bore away +From all men living, even to this day, +The secret. And the jewel hath passed down +Seven times from sire to son, and in the crown +It shineth of that country's kings, being called +Ev'n to this day the mystic emerald; +But no man liveth in the world, of wit +To read the writing that is on it writ." + + "O Master," said the Prince, "and wilt not thou +Instruct me where to find the king who now +Weareth the jewel in his diadem?" +To whom the Spirit, "O youth, and if the gem +Be worth the finding, is't not also worth +The little pain of seeking through the earth?-- +Yet so thou may'st not wander witlessly, +Look thou forget not this I tell to thee: +When in thy journeyings thou shalt dream once more +The fateful dream thou haddest heretofore, +That filled thy veins with longing as with wine, +Till all thy being brimm'd over--by that sign +Thou mayest know thyself at last to be +Within the borders of his empery +Who hath the mystic emerald stone, whose gleam +Shall light thee to the country of thy dream." + + "But," said the Prince, "When all the world's highways +My feet have trod, till after length of days +I reach the land where lies the wondrous stone, +How shall I make so rare a, thing mine own? +For had I riches more than could be told, +What king would sell his jewels for my gold?" +And on this wise the answer of the Seer +Fell in the hollow of his dreaming ear: +"Behold this Iron Chain,--of power it is +To heal all manner of mortal maladies +In him that wears it round his neck but once, +Between the sun's downgoing and the sun's +Uprising: take it thou, and hold it fast +Until by seeking long thou find at last +The king that hath the mystic emerald stone: +And having found him, thou shalt e'en make known +The virtues lodged within this charmed chain: +Which when the king doth hear he will be fain +To have possession of so strange a thing; +And thou shalt make a bargain with the king +To give the Iron Chain in bartery +For that mysterious jewel whereof he +Knows not the secret worth. And when at last +The emerald stone in thy own hands thou hast, +Itself shall guide thee whither thou would'st go-- +Ev'n to the land revealed of sleep, where no +Grief comes to mar their music, neither sound +Of sighing, while the golden years go round." + + So spake the Spirit unto him that dreamed, +And suddenly that world of shadow seemed +More shadowy; and all things began to blend +Together: and the dream was at an end. + + Then slept the Prince a deep sweet sleep that knew +Nor dream nor vision; till the dawnlight grew +Up, and his soul a sudden halt did make +About the confines dim of sleep and wake, +Where wandering lights and wildered shadows meet. +But presently uprising to his feet +From tarriance in that frontier-region dim, +Exceeding wonderment laid hold on him; +For even while from off his bed he rose, +He heard a clinking as of metal, close +Thereby, and could in no-wise understand: +And lo the Iron Chain was in his hand! + + +PART THE FIFTH + + So, being risen, the Prince in brief while went +Forth to the market-place, where babblement +Of them that bought and them that sold was one +Of many sounds in murmurous union-- +buzzing as of bees about their hives, +With shriller gossiping of garrulous wives +Piping a tuneless treble thereunto: +In midst whereof he went his way as who +Looketh about him well before he buys, +To mark the manner of their merchandise; +Till chancing upon one who cried for sale +A horse, and seeing it well-limb'd and hale, +And therewithal right goodly to behold, +He bought the beast and paid the man in gold, +And having gotten him the needful gear +Rode from the market, nothing loth to hear +Its garrulous wives no longer, and the din +Of them that daily bought and sold therein. +So from the place he passed, and slowly down +Street after street betook him till the town +Behind him and the gates before him were, +And all without was cornland greenly fair. + + And through the cornland wending many a mile, +And through the meadowland, he came erewhile +To where the highways parted, and no man +Was nigh to tell him whitherward they ran; +But while he halted all in doubtful mood, +An eagle, as if mourning for her brood +Stolen, above him sped with rueful cry; +And when that he perceived the fowl to fly +Plaining aloud, unto himself he said, +"Now shall yon mournful mother overhead +Instruct the wandering of my feet, and they +Shall follow where she leadeth:" and away +The bird went winging westward clamorously, +That westward even in her wake went he. +And it may be that in his heart there stirred +Some feeling as of fellowship with the bird; +For he, like her, was bound on a lone quest; +And for his feet, as for her wings, no rest +Might be, but only urgence of desire, +And one far goal that seemed not ever nigher. + + So through that country wended he his way, +Resting anights, till on the seventh day +He passed unwares into another land, +Whose people's speech he could not understand-- +A tract o'er-run with tribes barbarian, +And blood-red from the strife of man with man: +And truly 'twas a thing miraculous +That one should traverse all that rude land thus, +And no man rid him of his gold, nor raise +A hand to make abridgment of his days; +But there was that about him could make men's +Hearts, ere they knew it, yield him reverence,-- +Perchance a sovran something in his eye, +Whereat the fierce heart failed, it wist not why;-- +Perchance that Fate which (hovering like a doubt +Athwart his being) hemmed him round about, +Gloomed as a visible shadow across his way, +And made men fearful. Be this as it may, +No harm befell him in that land, and so +He came at last to where the ebb and flow +Of other seas than he had wandered o'er +Upflung to landward an attempered roar; +And wandering downward to the beach, he clomb +To topmost of a tall grey cliff, wherefrom +He saw a smoke as of men's houses, far +Off, from a jutting point peninsular +Uprising: whence he deemed that there a town +Must surely be. And so he clambered down +The cliff, and getting him again to horse +Thither along the seabound held his course, +And reached that city about sunset-tide +The smoking of whose hearths he had espied. + + There at an hostel rested he, and there +Tarried the coming of the morn. But ere +He fell asleep that night, a wandering thought, +Through darkling byeways of the spirit brought, +Knock'd at his soul for entrance, whispering low +"What if to-night thou dream The Dream, and know +To-morrow, when thou wakest from that bliss, +The land wherein thou liest to be his +Who hath the mystic jewel in his keep?" +So, full of flattering hope he fell asleep, +And sleeping dreamed, but dreamed not that he would: +For at one time it seemed as if he stood +Alone upon a sterile neck of land, +Where round about him upon either hand +Was darkness, and the cry of a dark sea, +And worldwide vapours glooming thunderously; +And ever as he stood, the unstable ground +Slid from beneath his feet with a great sound, +Till he could find no foothold anywhere +That seemed not unsubstantial as the air. +At otherwhiles he wandered all alone +About a lonely land, and heard a moan +As of some bird that sang and singing grieved; +And peering all about the woods thick-leaved +If so he might espy the bird, he found +At length, after long searching, that the sound +Even from the bottom of his own heart came, +And unawares his own mouth sang the same. +And then in dream 'twas like as years went by, +And still he journeyed, hardly knowing why, +Till at the last a mist about him fell, +And if the mist were death he could not tell, +For after that he knew no more. And so +He slept until the cock began to crow. + + Then came the gladful morn, that sendeth sick +Dreams flying, and all shapes melàncholic +That vex the slumbers of the love-distraught. +Unto his heart the merry morning brought +Cheer, and forewhisperings of some far-off rest, +When he should end in sweet that bitter quest. +But going forth that morn, and with his feet +Threading the murmurous maze of street and street, +All strangely fell upon him everywhere +The things he saw and heard of foul or fair. +The thronging of the folk that filled the ways; +The hubbub of the street and market-place; +The sound of heavy wain-wheels on the stones; +The comely faces and ill-favoured ones; +The girls with apple-cheeks and hair of gold; +The grey locks and the wrinkles of the old;-- +All these remote and unfamiliar +Seem'd, and himself a something from afar, +Looking at men as shadows on the wall +And even the veriest shadow among them all. + + But now when all things dreamwise seemed to swim +About the dubious eyes and ears of him, +That nothing in the world might be believed, +It chanced that on a sudden he perceived +Where one that dealt in jewels sat within +His doorway, hearkening to the outer din, +As who cared no-wise to make fast his ears +Against the babble of the street-farers: +Whereat the merchant, seeing a stranger pass, +Guessed by his garb what countryman he was, +And giving him good-day right courteously +Bespake him in his mother-tongue; for he +Had wandered in his youth o'er distant seas +And knew full many lands and languages. +Wherefore with him the royal stranger fell +To talking cheerly, and besought him tell +Whence all his gems were had and costly things, +Talismans, amulets, and charmèd rings: +Whereto the other answered, They had come +Some from a country not far hence, and some +From out a land a thousand leagues away +To eastward, ev'n the birthplace of the Day, +The region of the sun's nativity; +And giving ear to this right readily +The Prince would fain be told of him the way +To that far homeland of the youngling Day. +So, being ask'd, the other answered, "Sir, +There liveth but one master-mariner +Whose ship hath sailed so far: and that is he +Who hither brought the jewels thou dost see. +And now, as luck will have it for the nonce, +He wills to voyage thitherward but once +Before he die--for he is old like me-- +And even this day se'nnight saileth he. +Wherefore if thou be fain to see that land, +There needeth only gold within thy hand: +For gold, if that it jingle true and clear, +Hath still a merry music for man's ear, +And where is he that hateth sound of it?" +So saying, the merchant bade the stranger sit, +But the Prince thanked him for his courtesy, +And went his way. And that day se'nnight he +Was sailing toward the far-off morningland, +And felt the skies about him like a band, +And heard the low wind uttering numerous noise, +And all the great sea singing as one voice. + + +PART THE SIXTH + + Even as one voice the great sea sang. From out +The green heart of the waters round about, +Welled as a bubbling fountain silverly +The overflowing song of the great sea; +Until the Prince, by dint of listening long, +Divined the purport of that mystic song; +(For so do all things breathe articulate breath +Into his ears who rightly harkeneth) +And, if indeed he heard that harmony +Aright, in this wise came the song of the sea: + +"Behold all ye that stricken of love do lie, +Wherefore in manacles of a maiden's eye +Lead ye the life of bondmen and of slaves? +Lo in the caverns and the depths of Me +A thousand mermaids dwell beneath the waves: +A thousand maidens meet for love have I, +Ev'n I the virgin-hearted cold chaste sea. +Behold all ye that weary of life do lie, +There is no rest at all beneath the sky +Save in the nethermost deepness of the deep. +Only the silence and the midst of Me +Can still the sleepless soul that fain would sleep; +For such, a cool death and a sweet have I, +Ev'n I the crystal-hearted cool sweet sea. +Behold all ye that in my lap do lie, +To love is sweet and sweeter still to die, +And woe to him that laugheth me to scorn! +Lo in a little while the anger of Me +Shall make him mourn the day that he was born: +For in mine hour of wrath no ruth have I, +Ev'n I the tempest-hearted pitiless sea." + + So sang the waters, if indeed 'twere they +That sang unto the Prince's ears that day, +Since in the ship was not a soul besides +Could hear that burden of the voiceful tides; +For when he told the sailors of this thing, +And ev'n what words the waters seemed to sing, +They stared astonishment, and some, that had +More churlish souls than others, held him mad, +And laughed before his face outright. But when +The captain heard the gossip of his men +Touching this marvel, the strange news begot +No merry mood in him, who wist not what +Should be the meaning of the miracle, +Nor whether 'twere an omen good or ill. +Wherefore the old seafarer--having heard +The tale retold with many an afterword +The mariners' own most fruitful wit supplied +To grace the telling--took the Prince aside, +And ask'd him sundry questions privily +Concerning this same singing of the sea. +So the Prince told him all there was to tell, +And when that he had heard, the old man fell +To meditating much, and shook his head +As one exceeding ill at ease, and said, +"I doubt the singing thou hast heard was no +Voice of the waters billowing below, +But rather of some evil spirit near, +Who sought with singing to beguile thine ear, +Spreading a snare to catch the soul of thee +In meshes of entangling melody, +Which taketh captive the weak minds of men. +Therefore if thou should'st hear the sound again, +Look thou content thee not with hearkening, +But cast thine eyes around, and mark what thing +Thou seëst, and let no man know but me." + + So spake the white-haired wanderer of the sea. +And on the morrow--when the sealine grew +O'erhazed with visible heat, and no wind blew, +And the half-stifled morning dropt aswoon +Into the panting bosom of the noon-- +There came into the Prince's ears anew +The song that yestermorn had hearkened to. +And lifting up his eyes in hope to see +What lips they were that made such melody +And filled him with the fulness of their sound, +He saw the sun at highest of his round +Show as a shield with one dark bloodstain blurred, +By reason of the body of some great bird +Like to an eagle, with wide wings outspread, +Athwart the sunfire hovering duskly red. +So to the master of the ship he told +What he had witnessed, bidding him behold +The marvel with his own eyes if he would; +Who, though he strained his vision all he could, +Yet might not once endure to look the sun +I' the face; and calling to him one by one +The whole ship's crew, he bade each mariner look +Sunward who could, but no man's eyes might brook +The glare upon them of the noontide rays +And lidless fervour of that golden gaze: +So none of them beheld the bodeful bird. + + Then said the greybeard captain, hardly heard +Amid the babble of voices great and small, +"The bird thou seëst is no bird at all, +But some unholy spirit in guise of one; +And I do fear that we are all undone +If any amongst us hearken to its voice;-- +For of its mouth, I doubt not, was the noise +Thou heardest as of dulcet carolling, +When at thine ear the waters seemed to sing." + + And truly, many a wiser man than he +Herein had farther strayed from verity; +For that great bird that seemed to fan the sun's +Face with its wings was even the same as once +Flew screaming westward o'er the Prince's head, +Beguiling him to follow where it fled. +And bird it was not, but a spirit of ill, +Man-hating, and of mankind hated still, +And slave to one yet mightier demon-sprite +Whose dwelling is the shadow of the night. + + So the days passed, and always on the next +The bird-sprite like a baleful vision vexed +The happy-hearted sunlight; and each time +Its false sweet song was wedded to the rhyme +And chime of wind and wave--although it dropped +As honey changed to music--the Prince stopped +His ears, and would not hear; and so the Sprite, +Seeing his charmèd songcraft of no might +Him to ensnare who hearkened not at all, +On the tenth day with dreadful noise let fall +A tempest shaken from the wings of him, +Whereat the eyes of heaven wox thunderous-dim, +Till the day-darkness blinded them, and fell +Holding the world in night unseasonable. +And from his beakèd mouth the demon blew +A breath as of a hundred winds, and flew +Downward aswoop upon the labouring bark, +And, covered of the blear untimely Dark, +Clutch'd with his gripple claws the Prince his prey, +And backward through the tempest soared away, +Bearing that royal burden; and his eyes +Were wandering wells of lightning to the skies. + + Long time the Prince was held in swound, and knew +Nor outer world nor inner, as they flew +From darkness unto darkness; till at last-- +The fierce flight over, and his body cast +Somewhere alone in a strange place--the life +Stirred in him faintly, as at feeble strife +With covetous Death for ownership of him. +And 'fore his eyes the world began to swim +All vague, and doubtful as a dream that lies +Folded within another, petal-wise. +And therewithal himself but half believed +His own eyes' testimony, and perceived +The things that were about him as who hears +A distant music throbbing toward his ears +At noontide, in a flowery hollow of June, +And listens till he knows not if the tune +And he be one or twain, or near or far, +But only feels that sound and perfume are, +And tremulous light and leafy umbrage: so +The Prince beheld unknowing, nor fain to know. + + About him was a ruinous fair place, +Which Time, who still delighteth to abase +The highest, and throw down what men do build, +With splendid prideful barrenness had filled, +And dust of immemorial dreams, and breath +Of silence, which is next of kin to death. +A weedy wilderness it seemed, that was +In days forepast a garden, but the grass +Grew now where once the flowers, and hard by +A many-throated fountain had run dry +Which erst all day a web of rainbows wove +Out of the body of the sun its love. +And but a furlong's space beyond, there towered +In middest of that silent realm deflowered +A palace builded of black marble, whence +The shadow of a swart magnificence +Falling, upon the outer space begot +A dream of darkness when the night was not. +Which while the Prince beheld, a wonderment +Laid hold upon him, that he rose and went +Toward the palace-portico apace, +Thinking to read the riddle of the place. +And entering in (for open was the door) +From hall to hall he passed, from floor to floor, +Through all the spacious house, and (saving where +The subtile spider had his darksome lair) +No living creature could he find in it. +Howbeit, by certain writing that was writ +Upon the wall of one dark room and bare, +He guessed that some great sorcerer had there +Inhabited, a slave to his own lust +Of evil power and knowledge, till the dust +Received his dust, and darkness had his soul; +But ere death took him he had willed the whole +Of his possessions to a Spirit of Ill, +His sometime mate in commerce damnable, +Making him lord of that high house, wherein +The twain had sealed their covenant of sin. + + With that a horror smote the Prince, and fain +Would he have fled that evil spirit's domain +And shook its dust from off his feet that hour. +But from a window of the topmost tower +Viewing the dim-leaved wilderness without, +Full plainly he perceived it hemmed about +With waves, an island of the middle sea, +In watery barriers bound insuperably; +And human habitation saw he none, +Nor heard one bird a-singing in the sun +To lighten the intolerable stress +Of utter undisputed silentness. + + So by these signs he knew himself the thrall +Of that foul spirit unseen, and therewithal +Wholly unfellowed in captivity, +Bound round with fetters of the tyrannous sea. +And sick for very loneliness, he passed +Downward through galleries and chambers vast +To one wide hall wherefrom a vestibule +Opened into a dim green space and cool, +Where great trees grew that various fruitage bore +The like whereof he had not seen before, +And hard by was a well of water sweet; +And being anhungered he did pluck and eat +The strange fair fruit, and being athirst did drink +The water, and lay down beside the brink; +Till sleep, as one that droppeth from the skies, +Dropt down, and made a mist about his eyes. + + +PART THE SEVENTH + + But Sleep, who makes a mist about the sense, +Doth ope the eyelids of the soul, and thence +Lifteth a heavier cloud than that whereby +He veils the vision of the fleshly eye. +And not alone by dreams doth Sleep make known +The sealèd things and covert--not alone +In _visions_ of the night do mortals hear +The fatal feet and whispering wings draw near; +But dimly and in darkness doth the soul +Drink of the streams of slumber as they roll, +And win fine secrets from their waters deep: +Yea, of a truth, the spirit doth grow in sleep. + + Howbeit I know not whether as he slept +A voice from out the depth of dream upleapt +And whispered in his ear; or whether he +Grew to the knowledge blindly, as a tree +Waxes from bloom to fruitage, knowing not +The manner of its growth: but this I wot, +That rising from that sleep beside the spring +The Prince had knowledge of a certain thing +Whereof he had not wist until that hour-- +To wit, that two contending spirits had power +Over _his_ spirit, ruling him with sway +Altern; as 'twere dominion now of Day +And now of Dark; for one was of the light, +And one was of the blackness of the night. + + Now there be certain evil spirits whom +The mother of the darkness in her womb +Conceived ere darkness' self; and one of these +Did rule that island of the middle seas +Hemmed round with silence and enchantment dim. +Nothing in all the world so pleasured him +As filling human hearts with dolorousness +And banning where another sprite did bless; +But chiefly did his malice take delight +In thwarting lovers' hopes and breathing blight +Into the blossoms newly-openèd +Of sweet desire, till all of sweet were fled: +And (for he knew what secret hopes did fill +The minds of men) 'twas even now his will +To step between the Prince and his desire, +Nor suffer him to fare one furlong nigher +Unto that distant-shining golden goal +That beacon'd through the darkness to his soul. + + And so the days, the sultry summer days, +Went by, and wimpled over with fine haze +The noiseless nights stole after them, as steals +The moon-made shadow at some traveller's heels. +And day by day and night by night the Prince +Dwelt in that island of enchantment, since +The hour when Evil Hap, in likeness of +An eagle swooping from the clouds above, +Did bind him body and soul unto that place. +And in due time the summer waxed apace, +And in due time the summer waned: and now +The withered leaf had fallen from the bough, +And now the winter came and now the spring; +Yea, summer's self was toward on the wing +From wandering overseas: and all this while +The Prince abode in that enchanted isle, +Marvelling much at Fortune and her ways. + + And by degrees the slowly-sliding days +Gathered themselves together into years, +And oftentimes his spirit welled in tears +From dawn to darkness and from dark to dawn, +By reason of the light of life withdrawn. +And if the night brought sleep, a fitful sleep, +The phantoms of a buried time would creep +Out of their hollow hiding-places vast, +Peopling his Present from the wizard Past. +Sometimes between the whirl of dream and dream, +All in a doubtful middle-world, a gleam +Went shivering past him through the chill grey space, +And lo he knew it for his mother's face, +And wept; and all the silence where he stood +Wept with him. And at times the dreamer would +Dream himself back beneath his father's roof +At eventide, and there would hold aloof +In silence, clothed upon with shadows dim, +To hear if any spake concerning him; +But the hours came and went and went and came, +And no man's mouth did ever name his name. +And year by year he saw the queen and king +Wax older, and beheld a shadowy thing +Lurking behind them, till it came between +His dreamsight and the semblance of the queen, +From which time forth he saw her not: and when +Another year had been it came again, +And after that he saw his sire the king +No more, by reason of the shadowy thing +Stepping between; and all the place became +As darkness, and the echo of a name. + + * * * * * + + What need to loiter o'er the chronicle +Of days that brought no change? What boots it tell +The tale of hours whereof each moment was +As like its fellow as one blade of grass +Is to another, when the dew doth fall +Without respect of any amongst them all? +Enow that time in that enchanted air +Nor slept nor tarried more than otherwhere, +And so at last the captive lived to see +The fiftieth year of his captivity. +And on a day within that fiftieth year +He wandered down unto the beach, to hear +The breaking of the breakers on the shore, +As he had heard them ofttimes heretofore +In days when he would sit and watch the sea, +If peradventure there some ship might be. +But now his soul no longer yearned as then +To win her way back to the world of men: +For what could now his freedom profit him? +The hope that filled youth's beaker to its brim +The tremulous hand of age had long outspilled, +And whence might now the vessel be refilled? +Moreover, after length of days and years +The soul had ceased to beat her barriers, +And like a freeborn bird that cagèd sings +Had grown at last forgetful of her wings. + + And so he took his way toward the sea-- +Not, as in former days, if haply he +Might spy some ship upon the nether blue, +And beckon with his hands unto the crew, +But rather with an easeful heart to hear +What things the waves might whisper to his ear +Of counsel wise and comfortable speech. +But while he walked about the yellow beach, +There came upon his limbs an heaviness, +For languor of the sultry time's excess; +And so he lay him down under a tree +Hard by a little cove, and there the sea +Sang him to sleep. And sleeping thus, he dreamed +A dream of very wonderment: himseemed, +The spirit that half an hundred years before +In likeness of an eagle came and bore +His body to that island on a day, +Came yet again and found him where he lay, +And taking him betwixt his talons flew +O'er seas and far-off countries, till they drew +Nigh to a city that was built between +Four mountains in a pleasant land and green; +And there upon the highest mountain's top +The bird that was no bird at all let drop +Its burthen, and was seen of him no more. + + Thereat he waked, and issuing from the door +Of dream did marvel in his heart; because +He found he had but dreamed the thing that was: +For there, assuredly, was neither sea +Nor Isle Enchanted; and assuredly +He sat upon the peak of a great hill; +And far below him, looking strangely still, +Uptowered a city exceeding fair to ken, +And murmurous with multitude of men. + + +PART THE EIGHTH + + Now as it chanced, the day was almost spent +When down the lonely mountain-side he went, +The whitehaired man, the Prince that was; and ere +He won the silence of the valley where +The city's many towers uprose, the gate +Was closed against him, for the hour was late. +So even as they that have not wherewithal +To roof them from the rain if it should fall, +Upon the grassy ground this king's son lay, +And slept till nigh the coming of the day. + + But while as any vagabond he slept +Or outcast from the homes of men, there crept +Unto him lying in such sorry sort +A something fairer than the kingliest court +In all the peopled world had witness of-- +Even the shadow of the throne of Love, +That from a height beyond all height did creep +Along the pavement of the halls of sleep. +O fair and wonderful! that shadow was +The golden dream of dreams that came across +His youth, full half an hundred years before, +And sent him wandering through the world. Once more +In a lone boat that sails and oars had none, +Midmost a land of summer and the sun +Where nothing was that was not fair to see, +Adown a gliding river glided he, +And saw the city that was built thereby, +And saw the chariot of the queen draw nigh, +And gazed upon her in the goodly street; +Whereat he waked and rose upon his feet, +Remembering the Vision of the Seer, +And what the spirit spake unto his ear: +"When in thy wanderings thou shalt dream once more +The fateful dream thou haddest heretofore, +That filled thy veins with longing as with wine +Till all thy being brimm'd over--by that sign +Thou mayest know thyself at last to be +Within the borders of his empery +Who hath the mystic emerald stone, whose gleam +Shall light thee to the country of thy dream." + + Then rose the heart within his heart and said: +"O bitter scornful Fate, in days long dead +I asked and thou denied'st mine asking: now +The boon can no-wise profit me, and thou +Dost mock me with bestowal!" Thereupon +He fell to thinking of his youthhood gone, +And wept. For now the goal, the longtime-sought, +Was even at hand, "but how shall I," he thought, +"I that am old and sad and hoary-haired, +Enter the place for youth and love prepared? +For in my veins the wellspring of desire +Hath failed, and in mine heart the golden fire +Burneth no more for ever. I draw near +The night that is about our day, and hear +The sighing of the darkness as I go +Whose ancient secret there is none doth know." + + Ev'n so to his own heart he spake full sad, +And many and bitter were the thoughts he had +Of days that were and days that were to be. +But now the East was big with dawn, and he +Drew nigh the city-gates and entered in, +Ere yet the place remurmured with the din +Of voices and the tread of human feet; +And going up the void and silent street, +All in the chill gleam of the new-lit air, +A Thought found way into his soul, and there +Abode and grew, and in brief while became +Desire, and quickened to a quenchless flame: +And holding converse with himself, he said, +"Though in my heart the heart's desire be dead, +And can no more these time-stilled pulses move; +Though Death were lovelier to these eyes than Love +Yet would these eyes behold, or ere I pass, +The land that mirror'd lay as in a glass +In the deep wells of dream. And her that is +The sunlight of that city of all bliss, +Her would I fain see once with waking eyes +Whom sleep hath rendered unto vision twice. +And having seen her beauty I would go +My way, even to the river which doth flow +From daylight unto darkness and the place +Of silence, where the ghosts are face to face." + + So mused the man, and evermore his thought +Gave him no peace. Wherefore next morn he sought +The palace of the king, but on his way +Tarried till nigh the middle of the day +In talk with certain of the city-folk; +Whereby he learned, if that were true they spoke, +How that the king their lord was nigh distract +With torture of a strange disease that racked +Each day his anguished body more and more, +Setting at naught the leeches and their lore. +Which having heard he went before the king, +Who sat upon his throne, delivering +Judgment, his body pierced the while with pain. +And taking from his neck the charmèd chain +Which he had borne about him ever since +That morn miraculous, the unknown Prince +Upspake and said, "O king, I hold within +My hand a wonder-working medicine +Of power to make thee whole if thou wilt deign +So to be healèd;" and he held the chain +Aloft, and straightway told unto the king +The passing worth and wonder of the thing. + + Then he that heard stretched forth a hand that shook +With sudden fever of half-hope, and took +The chain, and turned it over in his hand +Until his eyes had left no link unscanned. +And on each separate link was character'd +A language that no living ear had heard, +Occult, of secret import, mystic, strange. +Then said the king, "What would'st thou in exchange +For this the magic metal thou dost bring?" +And the Prince answered him and said, "O king, +Even the emerald stone which some do call +The Emerald of the Virtues Mystical." +And they who thronged the hall of judgment were +Astonished at the stranger who could dare +Ask such a boon; and some base mouths did curl +With sneers, churl whispering to his fellow churl, +"Who could have deemed the man so covetous, +So void of shame in his great greed?" For thus +It shall be ever underneath the sun, +Each man believing that high hearts are none +Whose own is as the dust he treads on low. + + But the king answered saying, "Be it so. +To-night this chain of iron shall be worn +About my neck, and on the morrow-morn, +If all the pain have left these limbs of mine, +The guerdon thou demandest shall be thine. +But if this torment still tormenteth me, +Thy head and shoulders shall part company, +And both be cast uncoffin'd to the worms. +Open thy mouth and answer if these terms +Content thee." And aloud the Prince replied, +"With these conditions I am satisfied:" +Whereafter, rising from his knees, he went +Out from before the king, and was content. + + Next morning, when the king awoke, I wis +No heart was lighter in the land than his; +For all the grievous burden of his pains +Had fall'n from off his limbs, and in his veins +Upleapt the glad new life, and the sick soul +Seemed like its body all at once made whole. +But hardly was the king uprisen before +There knock'd and entered at the chamber-door +His chief physician (a right skilful leech, +But given to hollow trickeries of speech, +And artful ways and wiles) who said, "O king, +Be not deceived, I pray thee. One good thing +Comes of another, like from like. The weed +Beareth not lilies, neither do apes breed +Antelopes. Thou art healed of thy pain +Not by the wearing of an iron chain-- +An iron chain forsooth!"--(hereat he laughed +As 'twere a huge rare jest) "but by the draught +Which I prepared for thee with mine own hands +From certain precious simples grown in lands +It irks me tell how many leagues away: +Which medicine thou tookest yesterday." + + Then said the king, "O false and jealous man, +Who lovest better thine own praises than +Thy master's welfare! Little 'tis to such +As thou, that I should be made whole; but much +That men should go before thee, trumpeting +"'Behold the man that cured our lord the king.'" +And he was sore displeased and in no mood +To hearken. But the chief physician stood +Unmoved amid this hail of kingly scorn, +With meek face martyr-like, as who hath borne +Much in the name of Truth, and much can bear. +And from the mouth of him false words and fair +So cunningly flowed that in a little while +The royal frown became a royal smile, +And the king hearkened to the leech and was +Persuaded. So that morn it came to pass +That when the Prince appeared before the throne +To claim his rightful meed, the emerald stone, +The king denied his title to receive +The jewel, saying, "Think'st thou I believe +Yon jingling chain hath healed my body? Nay; +For whatsoever such as thou may say +I am not found so easy to beguile: +As for the gem thou wouldest, this good while +It hath adorned the crown I wear, nor shall +The stone be parted from the coronal." + + Scarce had the false king spoken when behold +Through the high ceiling's goodly fretted gold +A sudden shaft of lightning downward sped +And smote the golden crown upon his head, +Yea, melted ev'n as wax the golden crown. +And from the molten metal there fell down +A grassgreen Splendour, and the Emerald Stone +Tumbled from step to step before the throne, +And lay all moveless at the Prince's feet! +And the king sat upon his royal seat +A dead king, marble-mute: but no man stirred +Or spake: and only silence might be heard. + + Then he before whose feet the gem did lie +Said not a word to any man thereby, +But stooped and lifted it from off the floor, +And passing outward from the open door +Put the mysterious jewel in his breast +And went his way, none daring to molest +The stranger. For the whisper rose and ran, +"Is not the lightning leaguèd with this man?" + + +PART THE NINTH + + And passing through the city he went out +Into the fat fields lying thereabout, +And lo the spirit of the emerald stone +With secret influence to himself unknown +Guided the wandering of his errant feet, +The servants of the errant soul; and sweet +The meadows were, with babble of birds, and noise +Of brooks, the water's voice and the wind's voice. +Howbeit he gave small heed to any of them; +And now the subtile spirit of the gem +Led him along a winding way that ran +Beyond the fields to where the woods began +To spread green matwork for the mountains' feet; +A region where the Silence had her seat +And hearkened to the sounds that only she +Can hear--the fall of dew on herb and tree; +The voice of the growing of the grass; the night +Down-fluttering breathless from the heaven's height; +And autumn whispering unawares at times +Strange secrets and dark sayings, wrapt in rhymes +Wind-won from forest branches. At this place +The old man rested for a little space, +Forgetful that the day was wellnigh flown: +But soon the urgent spirit of the stone +Itself re-entered and possessed anew +His soul; and led thereby, and wandering through +A mile of trackless and untrodden ground, +By favour of the rising moon he found +A rude path, broken here and there by rills +Which crossed it as they hurried from the hills. +And going whitherso the wild path went, +A two hours' journeying brought him, wellnigh spent +With toiling upwards, to a mountain pass, +A bleak lone place where no trees grew nor grass, +But on each hand a peak of rock, high-reared, +Uprose: afar the two like horns appeared +Of some great beast, so tapering-tall they were. +And now with forward gaze the wanderer +Stood where the pass was highest and the track +Went downward both ways; and behind his back +The full moon shone, and lo before his face +The bright sea glimmered at the mountain's base. +It seemed, what way soever he might turn, +His fate still led him to that watery bourn. + + So journeying down the track which lay before, +He came, an hour past midnight, to the shore, +And, looking backward, far above espied +The two sharp peaks, one peak on either side +Of that lone pass; verily like a pair +Of monstrous horns, the tips far-seen, up there: +And in the nether space betwixt the two, +A single monstrous eye the moon shone through. + + Now all this while the spirit of the stone +Had led him forward, he, the old man lone, +Taking no thought of whither he was bound. +And roaming now along the beach he found +A creek, and in the creek, some little way +From where it joined the sea, a pinnace lay +Moored at the marge; and stepping thereinto, +He sat him down, and from his bosom drew +The mystic gem, and placed it at the prow, +That he might watch its paly splendours, how +They lightened here and there, and flashed aflame, +Mocked at the moon and put the stars to shame. +But hardly was the stone out of his hand, +When the boat wrenched her moorings from the land, +And swift as any captive bird set free +Shot o'er the shimmering surface of the sea, +The spirit of the emerald guiding her; +And for a time the old man could not stir +For very greatness of astonishment. + +But merrily o'er the moonlit waters went +The pinnace, till the land was out of sight, +Far in the dreaming distance. All that night, +Faster than ever wind in winter blew, +Faster than quarrel flies the bow, she flew. +A moment was a league in that wild flight +From vast to vast of ocean and the night. +And now the moon her lanthorn had withdrawn: +And now the pale weak heralds of the dawn +Lifted the lids of their blear eyes afar: +The last belated straggler of a star +Went home; and in her season due the morn +Brake on a cold and silent sea forlorn-- +A strange mute sea, where never wave hath stirred, +Nor sound of any wandering wind is heard, +Nor voice of sailors sailing merrily: +A sea untraversed, an enchanted sea +From all the world fate-folden; hemmed about +Of linkèd Dreams; encompassed with a Doubt. + + But not the less for lack of wind went she, +The flying pinnace, o'er that silent sea, +Till those dull waters of enchantment lay +Behind her many a league. And now her way +Was toward a shining tract of ocean, where +Low winds with bland breath flattered the mild air, +And low waves did together clasp and close, +And skyward yearning from the sea there rose +And seaward yearning from the sky there fell +A Spirit of Deep Content Unspeakable: +So midway meeting betwixt sky and sea, +These twain are married for eternity, +And rule the spirits of that Deep, and share +The lordship of the legions of the air. + + Here winds but came to rest them from their wars +With far seas waged. Here Darkness had her stars +Always, a nightly multitudinous birth. +And entering on this happier zone of earth, +The boat 'gan bate her speed, and by degrees +Tempered her motion to the tranquil seas, +As if she knew the land not far ahead, +The port not far: so forward piloted +By that sweet spirit and strong, she held her way +Unveering. And a little past midday, +The wanderer lifted up his eyes, and right +Before him saw what seemed a great wall, white +As alabaster, builded o'er the sea, +High as the heaven; but drawing nearer he +Perceived it was a mighty mist that lay +Upon the ocean, stretching far away +Northward and southward, and the sun appeared +Powerless to melt its mass. And while he neared +This cloudy barrier stretching north and south, +A tale once told him by his mother's mouth, +In childhood, while he sat upon her knee, +Rose to remembrance: _how that on the sea. +Sat somewhere a Great Mist which no sun's heat +Could melt, nor wind make wander from, its seat. +So great it was, the fastest ship would need +Seven days to compass it, with all her speed. +And they of deepest lore and wisest wit +Deemed that an island in the midst of it +Bloomed like a rosebush ring'd with snows, a place +Of pleasance, folded in that white embrace +And chill. But never yet would pilot steer +Into the fog that wrapped it round, for fear +Of running blindfold in that sightless mist +On sunken reefs whereof no mariner wist: +And so from all the world this happy isle +Lay hidden_. Thus the queen, long since; and while +He marvelled if the mist before his ken +Could be the same she told of--even then, +Hardly a furlong 'fore the pinnace' prow +It lay: and now 'twas hard at hand: and now +The boat had swept into the folds of it! +But all that vision of white darkness--lit +By the full splendour of the emerald stone +That from the forepart of the pinnace shone-- +Melted around her, as in sunder cleft +By that strong spirit of light; and there was left +A wandering space, behind her and before, +Of radiance, roofed and walled with mist, the floor +A liquid pavement large. And so she passed +Through twilight immemorial, and at last +Issued upon the other side, where lay +The land no mortal knew before that day. + + There wilding orchards faced the beach, and bare +All manner of delicious fruit and rare, +Such as in gardens of kings' palaces +Trembles upon the sultry-scented trees, +The soul of many sunbeams at its core. +Well-pleased the wanderer landed on this shore, +Beholding all its pleasantness, how sweet +And soft, to the tired soul, to the tired feet. +And so he sat him down beneath the boughs, +And there a low wind seemed to drone and drowse +Among the leaves as it were gone astray +And like to faint forwearied by the way; +Till the persistence of the sound begat +An heaviness within him as he sat: +So when Sleep chanced to come that way, he found +A captive not unwilling to be bound, +And on his body those fine fetters put +Wherewith he bindeth mortals hand and foot. + + When the tired sleeper oped again his eyes, +'Twas early morn, and he beheld the skies +Glowing from those deep hours of rest and dew +Wherein all creatures do themselves renew. +The laughing leaves blink'd in the sun, throughout +Those dewy realms of orchard thereabout; +But green fields lay beyond, and farther still, +Betwixt them and the sun, a great high hill +Kept these in shadow, and the brighter made +The fruitlands look for all that neighbouring shade. +And he the solitary man uprose, +His face toward the mountain beyond those +Fair fields not yet acquainted with the sun; +And crossed the fields, and climbed the hill, and won +The top; and journeying down the eastern side +Entered upon a grassy vale and wide, +Where in the midst a pure stream ran, as yet +A youngling, hardly able to forget +The lofty place of its nativity, +Nor lusting yet for union with the sea. +And through this valley, taking for his guide +The stream, and walking by the waterside, +He wandered on, but had at whiles to ford +The lesser brooks that from the mountains poured +Into this greater; which by slow degrees, +Enlarged with such continual soft increase, +Became a river broad and fair, but still +As clear as when it flowed a mountain-rill: +And he the wanderer wandering by that stream +Saw 'twas the river he had known in dream. + + So day by day he journeyed; and it chanced +One day he fared till night was well advanced +Ere lying down to sleep; and when he waked +Next morn, his bones and all his body ached, +And on his temples lay a weary heat, +And with sore pain he got upon his feet. +Yet when he rose and hard at hand espied +The City sloping to the riverside, +With bright white walls and golden port agleam, +Such as he saw them figured in the dream-- +Then the blood leapt as fire along his veins +And the o'erwearied limbs forgat their pains. +But when he strove to make what speed he might +Toward the happy haven full in sight, +The feet that would have hastened thereunto +Could not; and heavily, as old men do, +He fell to earth, and groaned aloud and said, +"Old man, what would'st thou, with thy silvered head, +Yonder, where all their tresses be as gold +Forever?--Thou art suffered to behold +The city of thy search: what wilt thou more? +Tarry thou here upon this river-shore; +Thou mightest farther go nor find the grass +Greener, whereon to lay thy head, and pass +Into the deep dark populous empty land." + + So spake the man, not able to withstand +This dumb remonstrance of the flesh, now first +Thwarting the soul. Howbeit a mighty thirst +Consumed him, and he crawled unto the brink +Of the clear stream hard by, that he might drink +One draught thereof, and with the water still +His deep desire. When lo a miracle! +No sooner had he drunken than his whole +Body was changed and did from crown to sole +The likeness of its youthful self put on, +The Prince of half-an-hundred years agone, +Wearing the very garments that he wore +What time his years were but a single score. + + Then he remembered how that in The Dream +One told him of the marvel of that stream, +Whose waters are a well of youth eterne. +And night and day its crystal heart doth yearn +To wed its youthhood with the sea's old age; +And faring on that bridal pilgrimage, +Its waters past the shining city are rolled, +And all the people drink and wax not old. + + +PART THE TENTH + + That night within the City of Youth there stood +Musicians playing to the multitude +On many a gold and silver instrument +Whose differing souls yet chimed in glad consent. +And sooth-tongued singers, throated like the bird +All darkness holds its breath to hear, were heard +Chanting aloud before the comely folk, +Chanting aloud till none-for listening spoke, +Chanting aloud that all the city rang; +And whoso will may hear the song they sang:-- + +I + + O happy hearts, O youths and damsels, pray +What new and wondrous thing hath chanced to-day, +O happy hearts, what wondrous thing and new? +Set the gold sun with kinglier-mightful glance, +Rose the maid-moon with queenlier countenance, +Came the stars forth a merrier madder crew, +Than ever sun or maiden-moon before, +Or jostling stars that shook the darkness' floor +With night-wide tremor 'neath their dizzy dance? + + Strong is the Sun, but strong alway was he; +The Moon is fair, but ever fair showed she; +The Stars are many, and who hath known them few? +As now they be, so heretofore were they: +What is the wondrous thing hath chanced to-day, +O happy hearts, the wondrous thing and new, +Whereof ye are glad together even more +Than of the sunlight or the moonlight or +The light o' the stars that strow the milky-way? + + For all your many maidens have the head +In goodly festal wise engarlanded, +With flowers at noon the banquet of the bees, +And leaves that in some grove at midday grew: +And ever since the falling of the dew +Your streets are full of pomps and pageantries, +Laughter and song, feasting and dancing:--nay, +Surely some wondrous thing hath chanced to-day; +O happy hearts, what wondrous thing and new? + +II + + No, no, ye need not answer any word! +Heard have we all--who lives and hath not heard?-- +What thing the sovran Fates have done to-day; +Who turn the tides of life which way they please, +And sit themselves aloft, aloof, at ease: +Dwellers in courts of marble silence they. +No need to ask what thing the Fates have done +Between the sunrise and the set of sun, +Mute-moving in their twilight fastnesses! + + Changeless, aloft, aloof, mute-moving, dim, +In ancient fastnesses of twilight--him +Have they not sent this day, the long-foretold, +The long-foretold and much-desired, of whom +'Twas whilom written in the rolls of doom +How in a dream he should this land behold, +And hither come from worldwide wandering, +Hither where all the folk should hail him king, +Our king foredestined from his mother's womb? + + Long time he tarried, but the time is past, +And he hath come ye waited for, at last: +The long-foretold, the much-desired, hath come. +And ye command your minstrels noise abroad +With lyre and tongue your joyance and his laud, +And, sooth to say, the minstrels are not dumb. +And ever in the pauses of our chant, +So for exceeding perfect joy ye pant, +We hear the beating of your hearts applaud! + +III + + And she our Queen--ah, who shall tell what hours +She bode his coming in her palace-towers, +Unmated she in all the land alone? +'Twas yours, O youths and maids, to clasp and kiss; +Desiring and desired ye had your bliss: +The Queen she sat upon her loveless throne. +Sleeping she saw his face, but could not find +Its phantom's phantom when she waked, nor wind +About her finger one gold hair of his. + + Often when evening sobered all the air, +No doubt but she would sit and marvel where +He tarried, by the bounds of what strange sea; +And peradventure look at intervals +Forth of the windows of her palace walls, +And watch the gloaming darken fount and tree; +And think on twilight shores, with dreaming caves +Full of the groping of bewildered waves, +Full of the murmur of their hollow halls. + + As flowers desire the kisses of the rain, +She his, and many a year desired in vain: +She waits no more who waited long enow. +Nor listeth he to wander any more +Who went as go the winds from sea to shore, +From shore to sea who went as the winds go. +The winds do seek a place of rest; the flowers +Look for the rain; but in a while the showers +Come, and the winds lie down, their wanderings o'er. + + + +ANGELO. + + Seven moons, new moons, had eastward set their horns +Averted from the sun; seven moons, old moons, +Westward their sun-averted horns had set; +Since Angelo had brought his young bride home, +Lucia, to queen it in his Tuscan halls. +And much the folk had marvelled on that day +Seeing the bride how young and fair she was, +How all unlike the groom; for she had known +Twenty and five soft summers woo the world, +He twice as many winters take 't by storm. +And in those half-an-hundred winters,--ay, +And in the summer's blaze, and blush of spring, + And pomp of grave and grandiose autumntides,-- +Full many a wind had beat upon his heart, +Of grief and frustrate hope full many a wind, +And rains full many, but no rains could damp +The fuel that was stored within; which lay +Unlighted, waiting for the tinder-touch, +Until a chance spark fall'n from Lucia's eyes +Kindled the fuel, and the fire was love: +Not such as rises blown upon the wind, +Goaded to flame by gusts of phantasy, +But still, and needing no replenishment, +Unquenchable, that would not be put out. + + Albeit the lady Lucia's bosom lacked +The ore had made her heart a richer mine +Than earth's auriferous heart unsunned; from her +Love went not out, in whom there was no love. +Cold from the first, her breast grew frore, and bit +Her kind lord's bosom with its stinging frost. +Because he loved the fields and forests, made +Few banquetings for highborn winebibbers, +Eschewed the city and led no sumptuous life, +She, courtly, sneered at his uncourtliness, +Deeming his manners of a bygone mode. +And for that he was gentle overmuch, +And overmuch forbearant, she despised, +Mocked, slighted, taunted him, and of her scorn +Made a sharp shaft to wound his life at will. +She filled her cup with hate and bade him drink, +And he returned it brimming o'er with love. + + And so seven moons had waxed and waned since these +Were wedded. And it chanced, one morn of Spring +Lucia bespake her spouse in even more +Ungentle wise than was her wont, and he, +For the first time, reproved her;--not as one +That having from another ta'en ill words +Will e'en cry quits and barter words as ill; +But liker as a father, whom his child +With insolent lips hath wounded, chides the child +Less than he knows it had been wise to do, +Saying within himself: "The time will come +When thou wilt think on thy dead father, how +Thou might'st have spoken gentlier unto him +One day, when yet thy father was alive: +So shall thy heart rebuke thy heart enow:"-- +Ev'n thus did Angelo reprove his wife. + + But though the words from his rough-bearded lips +Were like sweet water from the mouth of some +Rock-fountain hewn with elemental hands, +They fell as water cast i' the fire, to be +Consumed with hissing rage. Her wrath, let loose, +Blew to and fro, and hither and thither, like +A wind that seems to have forgotten whence +It came, and whither it was bidden blow. +She cursed the kinsfolk who had willed that she +Should wed with him; and cursed herself that gave +Ear to the utterance of their will; and cursed +The day on which their will became her deed: +Saying--and this he knew not until now-- +"Fool, I should ne'er have wedded thee at all, +No, neither thee nor any like to thee, +Had not my father wellnigh forced me to 't." +And he that hearkened, the Lord Angelo, +Spake not a word, but bowed his head, and went +Forth of his castle to the forest nigh, +And roamed all day about the forest, filled +With grief, and marvelling at her lack of love. + + But that which sorelier bruised his breast than ev'n +Lucia's exceeding lack of love for him, +Was this new knowledge, that in taking her +To wife--in the very act of taking her +To wife--himself had crossed the secret will +Of her whose will in all things it had been +His soul's most perfect bliss to gratify. +Wherefore, to make atonement, in some sort, +For this one wrong he deemed that he had done +The woman--this one crossing of her will-- +He knelt him down under the brooding shade +Of a huge oak, and vowed 'fore heaven a vow: +To wit, that Lucia never afterward +Should in his hearing utter forth a wish +For aught of earthly but himself would see +That wish fulfilled, if such fulfilment were +An end that mortal man could compass. Then +Uprising, he beheld the sinking sun +A vast round eye gaze in upon the wood +Through leafy lattice of its nether boughs: +Whereat he turned him castlewards, and owned +A lighter heart than he had borne that day. + + Homeward his face no sooner had he set +Than through the woods came riding unto him +A stranger, of a goodly personage, +Young, and right richly habited, who stayed +His horse, and greeted Angelo, and said: +"I pray you, sir, direct me how to find +An hostel, if there be such hereabouts; +For I have ridden far, and lost my way +Among these woods, and twilight is at hand." +Then he that heard replied to him that asked, +Saying: "The nearest inn is farther hence +Than mine own house; make therefore mine own house +Your inn for this one night, and unto such +Poor entertainment as my house affords +You are most welcome." So the stranger thanked +In courtly speeches the Lord Angelo, +Gladly accepting hospitalities +That were so gladly proffered; and the two +Fared on together, host and guest that were +To be, until they reached the castle, where +Angelo dwelt, and where his fathers lived +Before him, lords of land, in olden days. + + And entering in, the castle's later lord +Led the young signor to the chamber where +The lady Lucia sat, who rose to give +The stranger courteous welcome. (When she chose, +Of looks and lips more gracious none than she.) +But soon as she beheld the young man's face, +A sudden pallor seized her own, and back +She started, wellnigh swooning, but regained +Her wonted self as suddenly, declared +'Twas but a momentary sickness went +Arrow-like through her, sharp, but therewithal +Brief as the breath's one ebb and flow; and which, +Passing, had left her painless as before. +And truly, from that moment she appeared +More brightly beautiful, if Angelo +Erred not, than she had looked for many a day. + + So in brief while the stranger-guest sat down, +With host and hostess, to a table charged +With delicate meats, and fragrant fruits, and wine. +And when the meal was over, and themselves +Were with themselves alone--the serving-men +Having withdrawn--a cheerful converse rose +Concerning divers matters old and new. +And Angelo that evening let his tongue +Range more at freedom than he used; for though +No man was less to prating given than he, +Yet, when he liked his listener, he could make +His mouth discourse in such a wise that few +Had failed to give delighted audience. +For he had learning, and, besides the lore +Won from his books, a better wisdom owned-- +A knowledge of the stuff whence books are made, +The human mind and all it feeds upon. +And, in his youth a wanderer, he had roamed +O'er many countries, not as one who sees +With eyes alone, and hearkens but with ears; +Rather as who would slake the thirst of the soul +By sucking wisdom from the breasts of the world. + + Wherefore the hours flew lightly, winged with words; +Till Angelo, from telling of his own +Young days and early fortunes good and ill, +Was with remembrance smitten, as it chanced, +Of some old grief 'twas grief to think upon. +And so he changed his theme o' the sudden, donned +A shadowy mask of laboured pleasantry, +And said: "My wife, sir, hath a pretty gift +Of singing and of luting: it may be +If you should let your tongue turn mendicant-- +Not for itself but for its needy kin, +Your ears--she might be got to give an alms +For those twin brethren." Whereupon the guest +Unto his hostess turned and smiling said: +"That were indeed a golden alms your voice +Could well afford, and never know itself +The poorer, being a mint of suchlike coin." +And she made answer archly: "I have oft +Heard flatterers of a woman's singing say +Her voice was silvery:--to compare 't with gold +Is sure a new conceit. But, sir, you praise +My singing, who have not yet heard me sing." +And he: "I take it that a woman's speech +Is to her singing what a bird's low chirp +Is to _its_ singing: and if Philomel +Chirp in the hearing of the woodman, he +Knows 'tis the nightingale that chirps, and so +Expects nought meaner than its sovereign song. +Madam, 'tis thus your speaking-voice hath given +Earnest of what your singing-voice will be; +And therefore I entreat you not to dash +The expectations you have raised so high, +By your refusal." And she answered him: +"Nay, if you think to hear a nightingale, +I doubt refusal could not dash them more +Than will compliance. But in very truth, +The boon you crave so small and worthless is, +'Twere miserly to grudge it. Where's my lute?" + + So saying, she bethought her suddenly-- +Or feigned to have bethought her suddenly-- +How she had left the lute that afternoon +Lying upon an arbour-seat, when she +Grew tired of fingering the strings of it-- +Down in the garden, where she wont to walk, +Her lute loquacious to the trees' deaf trunks. +And Angelo, right glad to render her +Such little graceful offices of love, +And gladder yet with hope to hear her sing +Who had denied his asking many a time, +Awaited not another word, but rose +And said, "Myself will bring it," and before +She could assent or disapprove, was gone. + + Scarce had he left the chamber when behold +His wife uprose, and his young stranger-guest +Uprose, and in a trice they cast their arms +About each other, kissed each other, called +Each other _dear_ and _love_, till Lucia said: +"Why cam'st thou not before, my Ugo, whom +I loved, who lovedst me, for many a day, +For many a paradisal day, ere yet +I saw that lean fool with the grizzled beard +Who's gone a-questing for his true wife's lute?" +And he made answer: "I had come erenow, +But that my father, dying, left a load +Of cumbrous duties I had needs perform-- +Dry, peevish, crabbèd business at the best, +Impertinences indispensable, +Accumulated dulness, if you will, +Such as I would not irk your ears withal: +Howbeit I came at last, and nigh a week +Have tarried in the region hereabouts, +Unknown--and yearning for one glimpse of you, +One word, one kiss from you, if even it were +One only and the last; until, to-day, +Roaming the neighbouring forest, I espied +Your husband, guessed it was your husband, feigned +I was a traveller who had lost myself +Among the woods, received from him--ah, now +You laugh, and truly 'tis a famous jest-- +A courteous invitation to his house, +Deemed it were churlish to refuse, and so-- +And so am here, your Ugo, with a heart +The loyal subject of your sovereign heart, +As in old days." Therewith he sat him down, +And softly drawing her upon his knee +Made him a zone of her lascivious arms. + + But thus encinctured hardly had he sat +A moment, when, returning, Angelo +Stood at the threshold of the room, and held +The door half opened, and so standing saw +The lovers, and they saw not him; for half +The chamber lay in shadow, by no lamp +Lighted, or window to admit the moon: +And there the entrance was, and Angelo. + + And listening to their speech a little space, +The fugitive brief moments were to him +A pyramid of piled eternities. +For while he hearkened, Ugo said: "My love, +Answer me this one question, which may seem +Idle, yet is not;--how much lov'st thou me?" +And she replied: "I love thee just as much +As I do hate my husband, and no more." +Then he: "But prithee how much hatest thou +Thy husband?" And she answered: "Ev'n as much +As I love thee. To hate him one whit more +Than that, were past the power of Lucia's hate." +And Ugo: "If thou lovest me so much, +Grant me one gift in token of thy love." +Then she: "What would'st thou?" And he answered her: +"Even thyself; no poorer gift will I." +But Lucia said: "Nay, have I not bestowed +My love, which is my soul, my richer self? +My poorer self, which is my body, how +Can I bestow, when 'tis not in mine own +Possession, being his property forsooth, +Who holds the ecclesiastic title-deed?... +Yet--but I know not ... if I grant this boon, +Bethink thee, how wilt carry hence the gift? +Quick. For the time is all-too brief to waste." +And Ugo spake with hurrying tongue: "Right so: +To-morrow, therefore, when the sun hath set, +Quit thou the castle, all alone, and haste +To yonder tarn that lies amid the trees +Haply a furlong westward from your house-- +The gloomy lakelet fringed with pines--and there +Upon the hither margin thou shalt find +Me, and two with me, mounted all, and armed, +With a fourth steed to bear thee on his back: +And thou shalt fly with me, my Lucia, till +Thou reach my castle in the mountain'd North, +Whose mistress I will make thee, and mine own." +Then Lucia said: "But how if Angelo +Pursue and overtake us?" Whereupon +Ugo replied: "Pursue he may,--o'ertake +He shall not, save he saddle him the wind. +Besides--to grant the impossible--if he +_Were_ to o'ertake us, he could only strive +To win you back with argument; wherein +My servants, at their master's bidding, could +Debate with him on more than equal terms: +Cold steel convinces warmest disputants. +Or, if to see the bosom marital +Impierced, would make your own consorted heart +Bleed sympathetic, some more mild--" But she, +The beauteous Fury, interrupted him +With passionate-pallid lips: "Reproach me not +Beforehand--even in jest reproach me not-- +With imputation of such tenderness +For _him_ and _his_ life--when thou knowest how +I hate, hate, hate him,--when thou knowest how +I wish, and wish, and wish, that he were dead." + + Then Angelo bethought him of his vow; +And stepping forward stood before the twain; +And from his girdle plucked a dagger forth; +And spake no word, but pierced his own heart through. + + + +THE QUESTIONER + +I asked of heaven and earth and sea, +Saying: "O wondrous trinity, +Deign to make answer unto me, +And tell me truly what ye be." +And they made answer: "Verily, +The mask before His face are we, +Because 'tis writ no man can see +His face and live;"--so spake the three. +Then I: "O wondrous trinity, +A mask is but a mockery-- +Make answer yet again to me +And tell if aught besides are ye." +And they made answer: "Verily, +The robe around His form are we, +That sick and sore mortality +May touch its hem and healèd be." +Then I: "O wondrous trinity, +Vouchsafe once more to answer me, +And tell me truly, what is He +Whose very mask and raiment ye?" +But they replied: "Of Time are we, +And of Eternity is He. +Wait thou, and ask Eternity; +Belike his mouth shall answer thee." + + + +THE RIVER + +I + +As drones a bee with sultry hum +When all the world with heat lies dumb, +Thou dronest through the drowsèd lea, +To lose thyself and find the sea. + +As fares the soul that threads the gloom +Toward an unseen goal of doom, +Thou farest forth all witlessly, +To lose thyself and find the sea. + +II + +My soul is such a stream as thou, +Lapsing along it heeds not how; +In one thing only unlike thee,-- +Losing itself, it finds no sea. + +Albeit I know a day shall come +When its dull waters will be dumb; +And then this river-soul of Me, +Losing itself, shall find the sea. + + + +CHANGED VOICES + +Last night the seawind was to me +A metaphor of liberty, + And every wave along the beach +A starlit music seemed to be. + +To-day the seawind is to me +A fettered soul that would be free, + And dumbly striving after speech +The tides yearn landward painfully. + +To-morrow how shall sound for me +The changing voice of wind and sea? + What tidings shall be borne of each? +What rumour of what mystery? + + + +A SUNSET + +Westward a league the city lay, with one +Cloud's imminent umbrage o'er it: when behold, + The incendiary sun + Dropped from the womb o' the vapour, rolled +'Mongst huddled towers and temples, 'twixt them set +Infinite ardour of candescent gold, + Encompassed minaret + And terrace and marmoreal spire +With conflagration: roofs enfurnaced, yet +Unmolten,--columns and cupolas flanked with fire, + Yet standing unconsumed + Of the fierce fervency,--and higher +Than all, their fringes goldenly illumed, +Dishevelled clouds, like massed empurpled smoke + From smouldering forges fumed: + Till suddenly the bright spell broke +With the sun sinking through some palace-floor +And vanishing wholly. Then the city woke, + Her mighty Fire-Dream o'er, + As who from out a sleep is raised +Of terrible loveliness, lasting hardly more +Than one most monumental moment; dazed + He looketh, having come + Forth of one world and witless gazed +Into another: ev'n so looked, for some +Brief while, the city--amazed, immobile, dumb. + + + +A SONG OF THREE SINGERS + +I + + Wave and wind and willow-tree +Speak a speech that no man knoweth; +Tree that sigheth, wind that bloweth, + Wave that floweth to the sea: + Wave and wind and willow-tree. + + Peerless perfect poets ye, +Singing songs all songs excelling, +Fine as crystal music dwelling + In a welling fountain free: + Peerless perfect poets three! + +II + + Wave and wind and willow-tree +Know not aught of poets' rhyming, +Yet they make a silver-chiming + Sunward-climbing minstrelsy, + Soother than all songs that be. + + Blows the wind it knows not why, +Flows the wave it knows not whither, +And the willow swayeth hither + Swayeth thither witlessly, + Nothing knowing save to sigh. + + + +LOVE'S ASTROLOGY + + I know not if they erred + Who thought to see +The tale of all the times to be, + Star-character'd; + I know not, neither care, + If fools or knaves they were. + + But this I know: last night + On me there shone +_Two stars_ that made all stars look wan + And shamèd quite, + Wherefrom the soul of me + Divined her destiny. + + + +THREE FLOWERS + +I made a little song about the rose + And sang it for the rose to hear, +Nor ever marked until the music's close + A lily that was listening near. + +The red red rose flushed redder with delight, + And like a queen her head she raised. +The white white lily blanched a paler white, + For anger that she was not praised. + +Turning I left the rose unto her pride, + The lily to her enviousness, +And soon upon the grassy ground espied + A daisy all companionless. + +Doubtless no flattered flower is this, I deemed; + And not so graciously it grew +As rose or lily: but methought it seemed + More thankful for the sun and dew. + +_Dear love, my sweet small flower that grew'st among + The grass, from all the flowers apart,-- +Forgive me that I gave the rose my song, + Ere thou, the daisy, hadst my heart!_ + + + +THREE ETERNITIES + +Lo, thou and I, my love, +And the sad stars above,-- +Thou and I, I and thou! +Ah could we lie as now +Ever and aye, my love, +Hand within hand, my love, +Heart within heart, my dove, + Through night and day + For ever! + +Lo, thou and I, my love, +Up in the sky above, +Where the sun makes his home +And the gods are, my love, +One day may wander from +Star unto star, my love,-- +Soul within soul, my love, + Yonder afar + For ever! + +Lo, thou and I, my love, +Some time shall lie, my love, +Knowing not night from day, +Knowing not toil from rest,-- +Breast unto breast, my love, +Even as now for aye: +Clay within clay, my love, + Clay within clay + For ever! + + + +LOVE OUTLOVED + +I + + Love cometh and love goeth, + And he is wise who knoweth + Whither and whence love flies: + But wise and yet more wise +Are they that heed not whence he flies or whither +Who hither speeds to-day, to-morrow thither; +Like to the wind that as it listeth blows, +And man doth hear the sound thereof, but knows +Nor whence it comes nor whither yet it goes. + +II + +O sweet my sometime loved and worshipt one + A day thou gavest me +That rose full-orbed in starlike happiness +And lit our heaven that other stars had none:-- +Sole as that westering sphere companionless + When twilight is begun +And the dead sun transfigureth the sea: + A day so bright +Methought the very shadow, from its light + Thrown, were enough to bless +(Albeit with but a shadow's benison) +The unborn days its dark posterity. + Methought our love, though dead, should be + Fair as in life, by memory +Embalmed, a rose with bloom for aye unblown. +But lo the forest is with faded leaves +And our two hearts with faded loves bestrown, + And in mine ear the weak wind grieves + And uttereth moan: +"Shed leaves and fallen, fallen loves and shed, +And those are dead and these are more than dead; + And those have known +The springtime, these the lovetime, overthrown, +With all fair times and pleasureful that be." +And shall not we, O Time, and shall not we + Thy strong self see + Brought low and vanquishèd, + And made to bow the knee + And bow the head +To one that is when thou and thine are fled, +The silent-eyed austere Eternity? + +III + +Behold a new song still the lark doth sing +Each morning when he riseth from the grass, +And no man sigheth for the song that was, +The melody that yestermorn did bring. +The rose dies and the lily, and no man mourns +That nevermore the selfsame flower returns: +For well we know a thousand flowers will spring, +A thousand birds make music on the wing. +Ay me! fair things and sweet are birds and flowers, +The scent of lily and rose in gardens still, +The babble of beakèd mouths that speak no ill: +And love is sweeter yet than flower or bird, +Or any odor smelled or ditty heard-- +Love is another and a sweeter thing. +But when the music ceaseth in Love's bowers, +Who listeneth well shall hear the silence stirred +With aftermoan of many a fretful string: +For when Love harpeth to the hollow hours, +His gladdest notes make saddest echoing. + + + +VANISHINGS + +As one whose eyes have watched the stricken day +Swoon to its crimson death adown the sea, +Turning his face to eastward suddenly +Sees a lack-lustre world all chill and gray,-- +Then, wandering sunless whitherso he may, +Feels the first dubious dumb obscurity, +And vague foregloomings of the Dark to be, +Close like a sadness round his glimmering way; +So I, from drifting dreambound on and on +About strange isles of utter bliss, in seas +Whose waves are unimagined melodies, +Rose and beheld the dreamless world anew: +Sad were the fields, and dim with splendours gone +The strait sky-glimpses fugitive and few. + + + +BEETHOVEN + +O Master, if immortals suffer aught +Of sadness like to ours, and in like sighs +And with like overflow of darkened eyes +Disburden them, I know not; but methought, +What time to day mine ear the utterance caught +Whereby in manifold melodious wise +Thy heart's unrestful infelicities +Rose like a sea with easeless winds distraught, +That thine seemed angel's grieving, as of one +Strayed somewhere out of heaven, and uttering +Lone moan and alien wail: because he hath +Failed to remember the remounting path, +And singing, weeping, can but weep and sing +Ever, through vasts forgotten of the sun. + + + +GOD-SEEKING + +God-seeking thou hast journeyed far and nigh. +On dawn-lit mountain-tops thy soul did yearn +To hear His trailing garments wander by; +And where 'mid thunderous glooms great sunsets burn, +Vainly thou sought'st His shadow on sea and sky; +Or gazing up, at noontide, could'st discern +Only a neutral heaven's indifferent eye +And countenance austerely taciturn. + +Yet whom thou soughtest I have found at last; +Neither where tempest dims the world below +Nor where the westering daylight reels aghast +In conflagrations of red overthrow: +But where this virgin brooklet silvers past, +And yellowing either bank the king-cups blow. + + + +SKYFARING + +Drifting through vacant spaces vast of sleep, +One overtook me like a flying star +And whirled me onward in his glistering car. +From shade to shade the wingèd steeds did leap, +And clomb the midnight like a mountain-steep; +Till that vague world where men and women are, +Ev'n as a rushlight down the gulfs afar, +Paled and went out, upswallowed of the deep. + +Then I to that ethereal charioteer: +"O whither through the vastness are we bound? +O bear me back to yonder blinded sphere!" +Therewith I heard the ends of night resound; +And, wakened by ten thousand echoes, found +That far-off planet lying all-too near. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Poems of William Watson, by William Watson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF WILLIAM WATSON *** + +***** This file should be named 13179-8.txt or 13179-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/1/7/13179/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Melissa Er-Raqabi 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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/old/13179-8.zip b/old/13179-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..77f1e15 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13179-8.zip diff --git a/old/13179.txt b/old/13179.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f42b799 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13179.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6665 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poems of William Watson, by William Watson + +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 Poems of William Watson + +Author: William Watson + +Release Date: August 15, 2004 [EBook #13179] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF WILLIAM WATSON *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Melissa Er-Raqabi and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + +THE POEMS OF +WILLIAM WATSON + + + + +New York +MACMILLAN AND CO. +AND LONDON +1893 + + + + +Norwood Press +J.S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith. +Boston, Mass., U.S.A. + + + + +CONTENTS + +MISCELLANEOUS-- + PRELUDE + AUTUMN + WORLD-STRANGENESS + "WHEN BIRDS WERE SONGLESS" + THE MOCK SELF + "THY VOICE FROM INMOST DREAMLAND CALLS" + IN LALEHAM CHURCHYARD + THE FLIGHT OF YOUTH + "NAY, BID ME NOT MY CARES TO LEAVE" + A CHILD'S HAIR + THE KEY-BOARD + "SCENTLESS FLOW'RS I BRING THEE" + ON LANDOR'S "HELLENICS" + To ---- + ON EXAGGERATED DEFERENCE TO FOREIGN LITERARY OPINION + ENGLAND TO IRELAND + MENSIS LACRIMARUM + "UNDER THE DARK AND PINY STEEP" + THE BLIND SUMMIT + TO LORD TENNYSON + SKETCH OF A POLITICAL CHARACTER + ART MAXIMS + THE GLIMPSE + THE BALLAD OF THE "BRITAIN'S PRIDE" + LINES + THE RAVEN'S SHADOW + LUX PERDITA + ENGLAND AND HER COLONIES + HISTORY + THE EMPTY NEST + IRELAND + THE LUTE-PLAYER + "AND THESE--ARE THESE INDEED THE END" + THE RUSS AT KARA + LIBERTY REJECTED + LIFE WITHOUT HEALTH + TO A FRIEND, CHAFING AT ENFORCED IDLENESS + FROM INTERRUPTED HEALTH + "WELL HE SLUMBERS, GREATLY SLAIN" + AN EPISTLE + TO AUSTIN DOBSON + TO EDWARD CLODD + TO EDWARD DOWDEN + FELICITY +VER TENEBROSUM, SONNETS OF MARCH AND APRIL 1885-- + THE SOUDANESE + HASHEEN + THE ENGLISH DEAD + GORDON + GORDON _(concluded)_ + THE TRUE PATRIOTISM + RESTORED ALLEGIANCE + THE POLITICAL LUMINARY + FOREIGN MENACE + HOME-ROOTEDNESS + OUR EASTERN TREASURE + REPORTED CONCESSIONS + NIGHTMARE + LAST WORD: TO THE COLONIES +EPIGRAMS +WORDSWORTH'S GRAVE +LACHRYMAE MUSARUM +DEDICATION OF "THE DREAM OF MAN" +THE DREAM OF MAN +SHELLEY'S CENTENARY +A GOLDEN HOUR +AT THE GRAVE OF CHARLES LAMB +LINES IN A FLYLEAF OF "CHRISTABEL" +LINES TO OUR NEW CENSOR +RELUCTANT SUMMER +THE GREAT MISGIVING +"THE THINGS THAT ARE MORE EXCELLENT" +BEAUTY'S METEMPSYCHOSIS +ENGLAND MY MOTHER +NIGHT +THE FUGITIVE IDEAL +"THE FORESTERS" +SONG +COLUMBUS +THE PRINCE'S QUEST +ANGELO +THE QUESTIONER +THE RIVER +CHANGED VOICES +A SUNSET +A SONG OF THREE SINGERS +LOVE'S ASTROLOGY +THREE FLOWERS +THREE ETERNITIES +LOVE OUTLOVED +VANISHINGS +BEETHOVEN +GOD-SEEKING +SKYFARING + + + + + +MISCELLANEOUS + + + + +PRELUDE + +The mighty poets from their flowing store +Dispense like casual alms the careless ore; +Through throngs of men their lonely way they go, +Let fall their costly thoughts, nor seem to know.-- +Not mine the rich and showering hand, that strews +The facile largess of a stintless Muse. +A fitful presence, seldom tarrying long, +Capriciously she touches me to song-- +Then leaves me to lament her flight in vain, +And wonder will she ever come again. + + + +AUTUMN + +Thou burden of all songs the earth hath sung, + Thou retrospect in Time's reverted eyes, + Thou metaphor of everything that dies, +That dies ill-starred, or dies beloved and young + And therefore blest and wise,-- +O be less beautiful, or be less brief, + Thou tragic splendour, strange, and full of fear! + In vain her pageant shall the Summer rear? +At thy mute signal, leaf by golden leaf, + Crumbles the gorgeous year. + +Ah, ghostly as remembered mirth, the tale + Of Summer's bloom, the legend of the Spring! + And thou, too, flutterest an impatient wing, +Thou presence yet more fugitive and frail, + Thou most unbodied thing, +Whose very being is thy going hence, + And passage and departure all thy theme; + Whose life doth still a splendid dying seem, +And thou at height of thy magnificence + A figment and a dream. + +Stilled is the virgin rapture that was June, + And cold is August's panting heart of fire; + And in the storm-dismantled forest-choir +For thine own elegy thy winds attune + Their wild and wizard lyre: +And poignant grows the charm of thy decay, + The pathos of thy beauty, and the sting, + Thou parable of greatness vanishing! +For me, thy woods of gold and skies of grey + With speech fantastic ring. + +For me, to dreams resigned, there come and go, + 'Twixt mountains draped and hooded night and morn, + Elusive notes in wandering wafture borne, +From undiscoverable lips that blow + An immaterial horn; +And spectral seem thy winter-boding trees, + Thy ruinous bowers and drifted foliage wet-- + Past and Future in sad bridal met, +O voice of everything that perishes, + And soul of all regret! + + + +WORLD-STRANGENESS + +Strange the world about me lies, + Never yet familiar grown-- +Still disturbs me with surprise, + Haunts me like a face half known. + +In this house with starry dome, + Floored with gemlike plains and seas, +Shall I never feel at home, + Never wholly be at ease? + +On from room to room I stray, + Yet my Host can ne'er espy, +And I know not to this day + Whether guest or captive I. + +So, between the starry dome + And the floor of plains and seas, +I have never felt at home, + Never wholly been at ease. + + + +"WHEN BIRDS WERE SONGLESS" + +When birds were songless on the bough + I heard thee sing. +The world was full of winter, thou + Wert full of spring. + +To-day the world's heart feels anew + The vernal thrill, +And thine beneath the rueful yew + Is wintry chill. + + + +THE MOCK SELF + +Few friends are mine, though many wights there be +Who, meeting oft a phantasm that makes claim +To be myself, and hath my face and name, +And whose thin fraud I wink at privily, +Account this light impostor very me. +What boots it undeceive them, and proclaim +Myself myself, and whelm this cheat with shame? +I care not, so he leave my true self free, +Impose not on me also; but alas! +I too, at fault, bewildered, sometimes take +Him for myself, and far from mine own sight, +Torpid, indifferent, doth mine own self pass; +And yet anon leaps suddenly awake, +And spurns the gibbering mime into the night. + + + +"THY VOICE FROM INMOST DREAMLAND CALLS" + +Thy voice from inmost dreamland calls; + The wastes of sleep thou makest fair; +Bright o'er the ridge of darkness falls + The cataract of thy hair. + +The morn renews its golden birth: + Thou with the vanquished night dost fade; +And leav'st the ponderable earth + Less real than thy shade. + + + +IN LALEHAM CHURCHYARD + +(AUGUST 18, 1890) + +'Twas at this season, year by year, +The singer who lies songless here +Was wont to woo a less austere, + Less deep repose, +Where Rotha to Winandermere + Unresting flows,-- + +Flows through a land where torrents call +To far-off torrents as they fall, +And mountains in their cloudy pall + Keep ghostly state, +And Nature makes majestical + Man's lowliest fate. + +There, 'mid the August glow, still came +He of the twice-illustrious name, +The loud impertinence of fame + Not loth to flee-- +Not loth with brooks and fells to claim + Fraternity. + +Linked with his happy youthful lot, +Is Loughrigg, then, at last forgot? +Nor silent peak nor dalesman's cot + Looks on his grave. +Lulled by the Thames he sleeps, and not + By Rotha's wave. + +'Tis fittest thus! for though with skill +He sang of beck and tarn and ghyll, +The deep, authentic mountain-thrill + Ne'er shook his page! +Somewhat of worldling mingled still + With bard and sage. + +And 'twere less meet for him to lie +Guarded by summits lone and high +That traffic with the eternal sky + And hear, unawed, +The everlasting fingers ply + The loom of God, + +Than, in this hamlet of the plain, +A less sublime repose to gain, +Where Nature, genial and urbane, + To man defers, +Yielding to us the right to reign, + Which yet is hers. + +And nigh to where his bones abide, +The Thames with its unruffled tide +Seems like his genius typified,-- + Its strength, its grace, +Its lucid gleam, its sober pride, + Its tranquil pace. + +But ah! not his the eventual fate +Which doth the journeying wave await-- +Doomed to resign its limpid state + And quickly grow +Turbid as passion, dark as hate, + And wide as woe. + +Rather, it may be, over-much +He shunned the common stain and smutch, +From soilure of ignoble touch + Too grandly free, +Too loftily secure in such + Cold purity. + +But he preserved from chance control +The fortress of his 'stablisht soul; +In all things sought to see the Whole; + Brooked no disguise; +And set his heart upon the goal, + Not on the prize. + +With those Elect he shall survive +Who seem not to compete or strive, +Yet with the foremost still arrive, + Prevailing still: +Spirits with whom the stars connive + To work their will. + +And ye, the baffled many, who, +Dejected, from afar off view +The easily victorious few + Of calm renown,-- +Have ye not your sad glory too, + And mournful crown? + +Great is the facile conqueror; +Yet haply he, who, wounded sore, +Breathless, unhorsed, all covered o'er + With blood and sweat, +Sinks foiled, but fighting evermore,-- + Is greater yet. + + + +THE FLIGHT OF YOUTH + +Youth! ere thou be flown away. +Surely one last boon to-day + Thou'lt bestow-- +One last light of rapture give, +Rich and lordly fugitive! + Ere thou go. + +What, thou canst not? What, all spent? +All thy spells of ravishment + Pow'rless now? +Gone thy magic out of date? +Gone, all gone that made thee great?-- + Follow thou! + + + +"NAY, BID ME NOT MY CARES TO LEAVE" + +Nay, bid me not my cares to leave, + Who cannot from their shadow flee. +I do but win a short reprieve, + 'Scaping to pleasure and to thee. + +I may, at best, a moment's grace, + And grant of liberty, obtain; +Respited for a little space, + To go back into bonds again. + + + +A CHILD'S HAIR + +A letter from abroad. I tear +Its sheathing open, unaware +What treasure gleams within; and there-- + Like bird from cage-- +Flutters a curl of golden hair + Out of the page. + +From such a frolic head 'twas shorn! +('Tis but five years since he was born.) +Not sunlight scampering over corn + Were merrier thing. +A child? A fragment of the morn, + A piece of Spring! + +Surely an ampler, fuller day +Than drapes our English skies with grey-- +A deeper light, a richer ray + Than here we know-- +To this bright tress have given away + Their living glow. + +For Willie dwells where gentian flowers +Make mimic sky in mountain bowers; +And vineyards steeped in ardent hours + Slope to the wave +Where storied Chillon's tragic towers + Their bases lave; + +And over piny tracts of Vaud +The rose of eve steals up the snow; +And on the waters far below + Strange sails like wings +Half-bodilessly come and go, + Fantastic things; + +And tender night falls like a sigh +On _chalet_ low and _chateau_ high; +And the far cataract's voice comes nigh, + Where no man hears; +And spectral peaks impale the sky + On silver spears. + +Ah, Willie, whose dissevered tress +Lies in my hand!--may you possess +At least one sovereign happiness, + Ev'n to your grave; +One boon than which I ask naught less, + Naught greater crave: + +May cloud and mountain, lake and vale, +Never to you be trite or stale +As unto souls whose wellsprings fail + Or flow defiled, +Till Nature's happiest fairy-tale + Charms not her child! + +For when the spirit waxes numb, +Alien and strange these shows become, +And stricken with life's tedium + The streams run dry, +The choric spheres themselves are dumb, + And dead the sky,-- + +Dead as to captives grown supine, +Chained to their task in sightless mine: +Above, the bland day smiles benign, + Birds carol free, +In thunderous throes of life divine + Leaps the glad sea; + +But they--their day and night are one. +What is't to them, that rivulets run, +Or what concern of theirs the sun? + It seems as though +Their business with these things was done + Ages ago: + +Only, at times, each dulled heart feels +That somewhere, sealed with hopeless seals, +The unmeaning heaven about him reels, + And he lies hurled +Beyond the roar of all the wheels + Of all the world. + + * * * * * + +On what strange track one's fancies fare! +To eyeless night in sunless lair +'Tis a far cry from Willie's hair; + And here it lies-- +Human, yet something which can ne'er + Grow sad and wise: + +Which, when the head where late it lay +In life's grey dusk itself is grey, +And when the curfew of life's day + By death is tolled, +Shall forfeit not the auroral ray + And eastern gold. + + + +THE KEY-BOARD + +Five-and-thirty black slaves, + Half-a-hundred white, +All their duty but to sing + For their Queen's delight, +Now with throats of thunder, + Now with dulcet lips, +While she rules them royally + With her finger-tips! + +When she quits her palace, + All the slaves are dumb-- +Dumb with dolour till the Queen + Back to Court is come: +Dumb the throats of thunder, + Dumb the dulcet lips, +Lacking all the sovereignty + Of her finger-tips. + +Dusky slaves and pallid, + Ebon slaves and white, +When the Queen was on her throne + How you sang to-night! +Ah, the throats of thunder! + Ah, the dulcet lips! +Ah, the gracious tyrannies + Of her finger-tips! + +Silent, silent, silent, + All your voices now; +Was it then her life alone + Did your life endow? +Waken, throats of thunder! + Waken, dulcet lips! +Touched to immortality + By her finger-tips. + + + +"SCENTLESS FLOW'RS I BRING THEE" + +Scentless flow'rs I bring thee--yet +In thy bosom be they set; +In thy bosom each one grows +Fragrant beyond any rose. + +Sweet enough were she who could, +In thy heart's sweet neighbourhood, +Some redundant sweetness thus +Borrow from that overplus. + + + +ON LANDOR'S "HELLENICS" + +Come hither, who grow cloyed to surfeiting +With lyric draughts o'ersweet, from rills that rise +On Hybla not Parnassus mountain: come +With beakers rinsed of the dulcifluous wave +Hither, and see a magic miracle +Of happiest science, the bland Attic skies +True-mirrored by an English well;--no stream +Whose heaven-belying surface makes the stars +Reel, with its restless idiosyncrasy; +But well unstirred, save when at times it takes +Tribute of lover's eyelids, and at times +Bubbles with laughter of some sprite below. + + + +TO ---- + +(WITH A VOLUME OF EPIGRAMS) + +Unto the Lady of The Nook + Fly, tiny book. +There thou hast lovers--even thou! + Fly thither now. + +Seven years hast thou for honour yearned, + And scant praise earned; +But ah! to win, at last, _such_ friends, + Is full amends. + + + +ON EXAGGERATED DEFERENCE TO +FOREIGN LITERARY OPINION + +What! and shall _we_, with such submissive airs +As age demands in reverence from the young, +Await these crumbs of praise from Europe flung, +And doubt of our own greatness till it bears +The signet of your Goethes or Voltaires? +We who alone in latter times have sung +With scarce less power than Arno's exiled tongue-- +We who are Milton's kindred, Shakespeare's heirs. +The prize of lyric victory who shall gain +If ours be not the laurel, ours the palm? +More than the froth and flotsam of the Seine, +More than your Hugo-flare against the night, +And more than Weimar's proud elaborate calm, +One flash of Byron's lightning, Wordsworth's light. + + + +ENGLAND TO IRELAND + +(FEBRUARY 1888) + +Spouse whom my sword in the olden time won me, + Winning me hatred more sharp than a sword-- +Mother of children who hiss at or shun me, + Curse or revile me, and hold me abhorred-- +Heiress of anger that nothing assuages, + Mad for the future, and mad from the past-- +Daughter of all the implacable ages, + Lo, let us turn and be lovers at last! + +Lovers whom tragical sin hath made equal, + One in transgression and one in remorse. +Bonds may be severed, but what were the sequel? + Hardly shall amity come of divorce. +Let the dead Past have a royal entombing, + O'er it the Future built white for a fane! +I that am haughty from much overcoming + Sue to thee, supplicate--nay, is it vain? + +Hate and mistrust are the children of blindness,-- + Could we but see one another, 'twere well! +Knowledge is sympathy, charity, kindness, + Ignorance only is maker of hell. +Could we but gaze for an hour, for a minute, + Deep in each other's unfaltering eyes, +Love were begun--for that look would begin it-- + Born in the flash of a mighty surprise. + +Then should the ominous night-bird of Error, + Scared by a sudden irruption of day, +Flap his maleficent wings, and in terror + Flit to the wilderness, dropping his prey. +Then should we, growing in strength and in sweetness, + Fusing to one indivisible soul, +Dazzle the world with a splendid completeness, + Mightily single, immovably whole. + +Thou, like a flame when the stormy winds fan it, + I, like a rock to the elements bare,-- +Mixed by love's magic, the fire and the granite, + Who should compete with us, what should compare? +Strong with a strength that no fate might dissever, + One with a oneness no force could divide, +So were we married and mingled for ever, + Lover with lover, and bridegroom with bride. + + + +MENSIS LACRIMARUM + +(MARCH 1885) + +March, that comes roaring, maned, with rampant paws, + And bleatingly withdraws; +March,--'tis the year's fantastic nondescript, + That, born when frost hath nipped +The shivering fields, or tempest scarred the hills, + Dies crowned with daffodils. +The month of the renewal of the earth + By mingled death and birth: +But, England! in this latest of thy years + Call it--the Month of Tears. + + + +"UNDER THE DARK AND PINY STEEP" + +Under the dark and piny steep + We watched the storm crash by: +We saw the bright brand leap and leap + Out of the shattered sky. + +The elements were minist'ring + To make one mortal blest; +For, peal by peal, you did but cling + The closer to his breast. + + + +THE BLIND SUMMIT + +[A Viennese gentleman, who had climbed the Hoch-Koenig +without a guide, was found dead, in a sitting posture, near the +summit, upon which he had written, "It is cold, and clouds shut +out the view."--_Vide_ the _Daily News_ of September 10, 1891.] + +So mounts the child of ages of desire, +Man, up the steeps of Thought; and would behold +Yet purer peaks, touched with unearthlier fire, +In sudden prospect virginally new; +But on the lone last height he sighs: "'Tis cold, + And clouds shut out the view." + +Ah, doom of mortals! Vexed with phantoms old, +Old phantoms that waylay us and pursue,-- +Weary of dreams,--we think to see unfold +The eternal landscape of the Real and True; +And on our Pisgah can but write: "'Tis cold, + And clouds shut out the view." + + + +TO LORD TENNYSON + +(WITH A VOLUME OF VERSE) + +Master and mage, our prince of song, whom Time, + In this your autumn mellow and serene, + Crowns ever with fresh laurels, nor less green +Than garlands dewy from your verdurous prime; +Heir of the riches of the whole world's rhyme, + Dow'r'd with the Doric grace, the Mantuan mien, + With Arno's depth and Avon's golden sheen; +Singer to whom the singing ages climb, +Convergent;--if the youngest of the choir + May snatch a flying splendour from your name +Making his page illustrious, and aspire + For one rich moment your regard to claim, +Suffer him at your feet to lay his lyre + And touch the skirts and fringes of your fame. + + + +SKETCH OF A POLITICAL CHARACTER + +(1885) + + There is a race of men, who master life, +Their victory being inversely as their strife; +Who capture by refraining from pursuit; +Shake not the bough, yet load their hands with fruit; +The earth's high places who attain to fill, +By most indomitably sitting still. +While others, full upon the fortress hurled, +Lay fiery siege to the embattled world, +Of such rude arts _their_ natures feel no need; +Greatly inert, they lazily succeed; +Find in the golden mean their proper bliss, +And doing nothing, never do amiss; +But lapt in men's good graces live, and die +By all regretted, nobody knows why. + + Cast in this fortunate Olympian mould, +The admirable * * * * behold; +Whom naught could dazzle or mislead, unless +'Twere the wild light of fatal cautiousness; +Who never takes a step from his own door +But he looks backward ere he looks before. +When once he starts, it were too much to say +He visibly gets farther on his way: +But all allow, he ponders well his course-- +For future uses hoarding present force. +The flippant deem him slow and saturnine, +The summed-up phlegm of that illustrious line; +But we, his honest adversaries, who +More highly prize him than his false friends do, +Frankly admire that simple mass and weight-- +A solid Roman pillar of the State, +So inharmonious with the baser style +Of neighbouring columns grafted on the pile, +So proud and imperturbable and chill, +Chosen and matched so excellently ill, +He seems a monument of pensive grace, +Ah, how pathetically out of place! + + Would that some call he could not choose but heed-- +Of private passion or of public need-- +At last might sting to life that slothful power, +And snare him into greatness for an hour! + + + +ART MAXIMS + +Often ornateness +Goes with greatness; +Oftener felicity +Comes of simplicity. + +Talent that's cheapest +Affects singularity. +Thoughts that dive deepest +Rise radiant in clarity. + +Life is rough: +Sing smoothly, O Bard. +Enough, enough, +To have _found_ life hard. + +No record Art keeps +Of her travail and throes. +There is toil on the steeps,-- +On the summits, repose. + + + +THE GLIMPSE + +Just for a day you crossed my life's dull track, + Put my ignobler dreams to sudden shame, +Went your bright way, and left me to fall back + On my own world of poorer deed and aim; + +To fall back on my meaner world, and feel + Like one who, dwelling 'mid some, smoke-dimmed town,-- +In a brief pause of labour's sullen wheel,-- + 'Scaped from the street's dead dust and factory's frown,-- + +In stainless daylight saw the pure seas roll, + Saw mountains pillaring the perfect sky: +Then journeyed home, to carry in his soul + The torment of the difference till he die. + + + +THE BALLAD OF THE "BRITAIN'S PRIDE" + +It was a skipper of Lowestoft + That trawled the northern sea, +In a smack of thrice ten tons and seven, + And the _Britain's Pride_ was she. +And the waves were high to windward, + And the waves were high to lee, +And he said as he lost his trawl-net, + "What is to be, will be." + +His craft she reeled and staggered, + But he headed her for the hithe, +In a storm that threatened to mow her down + As grass is mown by the scythe; +When suddenly through the cloud-rift + The moon came sailing soft, +And he saw one mast of a sunken ship + Like a dead arm held aloft. + +And a voice came faint from the rigging-- + "Help! help!" it whispered and sighed-- +And a single form to the sole mast clung, + In the roaring darkness wide. +Oh the crew were but four hands all told, + On board of the _Britain's Pride_, +And ever "Hold on till daybreak!" + Across the night they cried. + +Slowly melted the darkness, + Slowly rose the sun, +And only the lad in the rigging + Was left, out of thirty-one, +To tell the tale of his captain, + The English sailor true, +That did his duty and met his death + As English sailors do. + +Peace to the gallant spirit, + The greatly proved and tried, +And to all who have fed the hungry sea + That is still unsatisfied; +And honour and glory for ever, + While rolls the unresting tide, +To the skipper of little Lowestoft, + And the crew of the _Britain's Pride_. + + + +LINES + +(WITH A VOLUME OF THE AUTHOR'S POEMS SENT TO M.R.C.) + +Go, Verse, nor let the grass of tarrying grow +Beneath thy feet iambic. Southward go +O'er Thamesis his stream, nor halt until +Thou reach the summit of a suburb hill +To lettered fame not unfamiliar: there +Crave rest and shelter of a scholiast fair, +Who dwelleth in a world of old romance, +Magic emprise and faery chevisaunce. +Tell her, that he who made thee, years ago, +By northern stream and mountain, and where blow +Great breaths from the sea-sunset, at this day +One half thy fabric fain would rase away; +But she must take thee faults and all, my Verse, +Forgive thy better and forget thy worse. +Thee, doubtless, she shall place, not scorned, among +More famous songs by happier minstrels sung;-- +In Shakespeare's shadow thou shalt find a home, +Shalt house with melodists of Greece and Rome, +Or awed by Dante's wintry presence be, +Or won by Goethe's regal suavity, +Or with those masters hardly less adored +Repose, of Rydal and of Farringford; +And--like a mortal rapt from men's abodes +Into some skyey fastness of the gods-- +Divinely neighboured, thou in such a shrine +Mayst for a moment dream thyself divine. + + + +THE RAVEN'S SHADOW + +Seabird, elemental sprite, + Moulded of the sun and spray-- +Raven, dreary flake of night + Drifting in the eye of day-- +What in common have ye two, +Meeting 'twixt the blue and blue? + +Thou to eastward carriest + The keen savour of the foam,-- +Thou dost bear unto the west + Fragrance from thy woody home, +Where perchance a house is thine +Odorous of the oozy pine. + +Eastward thee thy proper cares, + Things of mighty moment, call; +Thee to westward thine affairs + Summon, weighty matters all: +I, where land and sea contest, +Watch you eastward, watch you west, + +Till, in snares of fancy caught, + Mystically changed ye seem, +And the bird becomes a thought, + And the thought becomes a dream, +And the dream, outspread on high, +Lords it o'er the abject sky. + +Surely I have known before + Phantoms of the shapes ye be-- +Haunters of another shore + 'Leaguered by another sea. +There my wanderings night and morn +Reconcile me to the bourn. + +There the bird of happy wings + Wafts the ocean-news I crave; +Rumours of an isle he brings + Gemlike on the golden wave: +But the baleful beak and plume +Scatter immelodious gloom. + +Though the flow'rs be faultless made, + Perfectly to live and die-- +Though the bright clouds bloom and fade + Flow'rlike 'midst a meadowy sky-- +Where this raven roams forlorn +Veins of midnight flaw the morn. + +He not less will croak and croak + As he ever caws and caws, +Till the starry dance he broke, + Till the sphery paean pause, +And the universal chime +Falter out of tune and time. + +Coils the labyrinthine sea + Duteous to the lunar will, +But some discord stealthily + Vexes the world-ditty still, +And the bird that caws and caws +Clasps creation with his claws. + + + +LUX PERDITA + + Thine were the weak, slight hands +That might have taken this strong soul, and bent +Its stubborn substance to thy soft intent, +And bound it unresisting, with such bands +As not the arm of envious heaven had rent. + + Thine were the calming eyes +That round my pinnace could have stilled the sea, +And drawn thy voyager home, and bid him be +Pure with their pureness, with their wisdom wise, +Merged in their light, and greatly lost in thee. + + But thou--thou passed'st on, +With whiteness clothed of dedicated days, +Cold, like a star; and me in alien ways +Thou leftest following life's chance lure, where shone +The wandering gleam that beckons and betrays. + + + +ENGLAND AND HER COLONIES + +She stands, a thousand-wintered tree, + By countless morns impearled; +Her broad roots coil beneath the sea, + Her branches sweep the world; +Her seeds, by careless winds conveyed, + Clothe the remotest strand +With forests from her scatterings made, +New nations fostered in her shade, + And linking land with land. + +O ye by wandering tempest sown + 'Neath every alien star, +Forget not whence the breath was blown + That wafted you afar! +For ye are still her ancient seed + On younger soil let fall-- +Children of Britain's island-breed, +To whom the Mother in her need + Perchance may one day call. + + + +HISTORY + +Here, peradventure, in this mirror glassed, +Who gazes long and well at times beholds +Some sunken feature of the mummied Past, +But oftener only the embroidered folds +And soiled magnificence of her rent robe +Whose tattered skirts are ruined dynasties +That sweep the dust of aeons in our eyes +And with their trailing pride cumber the globe.-- +For lo! the high, imperial Past is dead: +The air is full of its dissolved bones; +Invincible armies long since vanquished, +Kings that remember not their awful thrones, +Powerless potentates and foolish sages, +Impede the slow steps of the pompous ages. + + + +THE EMPTY NEST + +I saunter all about the pleasant place + You made thrice pleasant, O my friends, to me; +But you are gone where laughs in radiant grace + That thousand-memoried unimpulsive sea. +To storied precincts of the southern foam, + Dear birds of passage, ye have taken wing, +And ah! for me, when April wafts you home, + The spring will more than ever be the spring +Still lovely, as of old, this haunted ground; + Tenderly, still, the autumn sunshine falls; +And gorgeously the woodlands tower around, + Freak'd with wild light at golden intervals: +Yet, for the ache your absence leaves, O friends, +Earth's lifeless pageantries are poor amends. + + + +IRELAND + +(DECEMBER 1, 1890) + +In the wild and lurid desert, in the thunder-travelled ways, +'Neath the night that ever hurries to the dawn that still delays, +There she clutches at illusions, and she seeks a phantom goal +With the unattaining passion that consumes the unsleeping soul: +And calamity enfolds her, like the shadow of a ban, +And the niggardness of Nature makes the misery of man: +And in vain the hand is stretched to lift her, stumbling in the gloom, +While she follows the mad fen-fire that conducts her to her doom. + + + +THE LUTE-PLAYER + +She was a lady great and splendid, + I was a minstrel in her halls. +A warrior like a prince attended + Stayed his steed by the castle walls. + +Far had he fared to gaze upon her. + "O rest thee now, Sir Knight," she said. +The warrior wooed, the warrior won her, + In time of snowdrops they were wed. +I made sweet music in his honour, + And longed to strike him dead. + +I passed at midnight from her portal, + Throughout the world till death I rove: +Ah, let me make this lute immortal + With rapture of my hate and love! + + + +"AND THESE--ARE THESE INDEED THE END" + +And these--are these indeed the end, + This grinning skull, this heavy loam? +Do all green ways whereby we wend + Lead but to yon ignoble home? + +Ah well! Thine eyes invite to bliss; + Thy lips are hives of summer still. +I ask not other worlds while this + Proffers me all the sweets I will. + + + +THE RUSS AT KARA + +O King of kings, that watching from Thy throne + Sufferest the monster of Ust-Kara's hold, + With bosom than Siberia's wastes more cold, +And hear'st the wail of captives crushed and prone, +And sett'st no sign in heaven! Shall naught atone + For their wild pangs whose tale is yet scarce told, + Women by uttermost woe made deadly bold, +In the far dungeon's night that hid their moan? +Why waits Thy shattering arm, nor smites this Power + Whose beak and talons rend the unshielded breast, + Whose wings shed terror and a plague of gloom, + Whose ravin is the hearts of the oppressed; +Whose brood are hell-births--Hate that bides its hour, + Wrath, and a people's curse that loathe their doom? + + + +LIBERTY REJECTED + +About this heart thou hast + Thy chains made fast, +And think'st thou I would be + Therefrom set free, +And forth unbound be cast? + +The ocean would as soon + Entreat the moon +Unsay the magic verse + That seals him hers +From silver noon to noon. + +She stooped her pearly head + Seaward, and said: +"Would'st thou I gave to thee + Thy liberty, +In Time's youth forfeited?" + +And from his inmost hold + The answer rolled: +"Thy bondman to remain + Is sweeter pain, +Dearer an hundredfold." + + + +LIFE WITHOUT HEALTH + +Behold life builded as a goodly house +And grown a mansion ruinous +With winter blowing through its crumbling walls! +The master paceth up and down his halls, +And in the empty hours +Can hear the tottering of his towers +And tremor of their bases underground. +And oft he starts and looks around +At creaking of a distant door +Or echo of his footfall on the floor, +Thinking it may be one whom he awaits +And hath for many days awaited, +Coming to lead him through the mouldering gates +Out somewhere, from his home dilapidated. + + + +TO A FRIEND + +CHAFING AT ENFORCED IDLENESS FROM INTERRUPTED HEALTH + +Soon may the edict lapse, that on you lays +This dire compulsion of infertile days, +This hardest penal toil, reluctant rest! +Meanwhile I count you eminently blest, +Happy from labours heretofore well done, +Happy in tasks auspiciously begun. +For they are blest that have not much to rue-- +That have not oft mis-heard the prompter's cue, +Stammered and stumbled and the wrong parts played, +And life a Tragedy of Errors made. + + + +"WELL HE SLUMBERS, GREATLY SLAIN" + +Well he slumbers, greatly slain, + Who in splendid battle dies; +Deep his sleep in midmost main + Pillowed upon pearl who lies. + +Ease, of all good gifts the best, + War and wave at last decree: +Love alone denies us rest, + Crueller than sword or sea. + + + +AN EPISTLE + +(To N.A.) + +So, into Cornwall you go down, +And leave me loitering here in town. +For me, the ebb of London's wave, +Not ocean-thunder in Cornish cave. +My friends (save only one or two) +Gone to the glistening marge, like you,-- +The opera season with blare and din +Dying sublime in _Lohengrin_,-- +Houses darkened, whose blinded panes +All thoughts, save of the dead, preclude,-- +The parks a puddle of tropic rains,-- +Clubland a pensive solitude,-- +For me, now you and yours are flown, +The fellowship of books alone! + + For you, the snaky wave, upflung +With writhing head and hissing tongue; +The weed whose tangled fibres tell +Of some inviolate deep-sea dell; +The faultless, secret-chambered shell, +Whose sound is an epitome +Of all the utterance of the sea; +Great, basking, twinkling wastes of brine; +Far clouds of gulls that wheel and swerve +In unanimity divine, +With undulation serpentine, +And wondrous, consentaneous curve, +Flashing in sudden silver sheen, +Then melting on the sky-line keen; +The world-forgotten coves that seem +Lapt in some magic old sea-dream, +Where, shivering off the milk-white foam, +Lost airs wander, seeking home, +And into clefts and caverns peep, +Fissures paven with powdered shell, +Recesses of primeval sleep, +Tranced with an immemorial spell; +The granite fangs eternally +Rending the blanch'd lips of the sea; +The breaker clutching land, then hurled +Back on its own tormented world; +The mountainous upthunderings, +The glorious energy of things, +The power, the joy, the cosmic thrill, +Earth's ecstasy made visible, +World-rapture old as Night and new +As sunrise;--this, all this, for you! + + So, by Atlantic breezes fanned, +You roam the limits of the land, +And I in London's world abide, +Poor flotsam on the human tide!-- +Nay, rather, isled amid the stream-- +Watching the flood--and, half in dream +Guessing the sources whence it rose, +And musing to what Deep it flows. + + For still the ancient riddles mar +Our joy in man, in leaf, in star. +The Whence and Whither give no rest, +The Wherefore is a hopeless quest; +And the dull wight who never thinks,-- +Who, chancing on the sleeping Sphinx, +Passes unchallenged,--fares the best! + + But ill it suits this random verse +The high enigmas to rehearse, +And touch with desultory tongue +Secrets no man from Night hath wrung. +We ponder, question, doubt--and pray +The Deep to answer Yea or Nay; +And what does the engirdling wave, +The undivulging, yield us, save +Aspersion of bewildering spray? +We do but dally on the beach, +Writing our little thoughts full large, +While Ocean with imperious speech +Derides us trifling by the marge. +Nay, we are children, who all day +Beside the unknown waters play, +And dig with small toy-spade the sand, +Thinking our trenches wondrous deep, +Till twilight falls, and hand-in-hand +Nurse takes us home, well tired, to sleep; +Sleep, and forget our toys, and be +Lulled by the great unsleeping sea. + + Enough!--to Cornwall you go down, +And I tag rhymes in London town. + + + +TO AUSTIN DOBSON + +Yes! urban is your Muse, and owns +An empire based on London stones; +Yet flow'rs, as mountain violets sweet, +Spring from the pavement 'neath her feet. + +Of wilder birth this Muse of mine, +Hill-cradled, and baptized with brine; +And 'tis for her a sweet despair +To watch that courtly step and air! + +Yet surely she, without reproof, +Greeting may send from realms aloof, +And even claim a tie in blood, +And dare to deem it sisterhood. + +For well we know, those Maidens be +All daughters of Mnemosyne; +And 'neath the unifying sun, +Many the songs--but Song is one. + + + +TO EDWARD CLODD + +Friend, in whose friendship I am twice well-starred, + A debt not time may cancel is your due; + For was it not your praise that earliest drew, +On me obscure, that chivalrous regard, +Ev'n his, who, knowing fame's first steep how hard, + With generous lips no faltering clarion blew, + Bidding men hearken to a lyre by few +Heeded, nor grudge the bay to one more bard? +Bitter the task, year by inglorious year, +Of suitor at the world's reluctant ear. + One cannot sing for ever, like a bird, +For sole delight of singing! Him his mate +Suffices, listening with a heart elate; + Nor more his joy, if all the rapt heav'n heard. + + + +TO EDWARD DOWDEN + +ON RECEIVING FROM HIM A COPY OF "THE LIFE OF SHELLEY" + +First, ere I slake my hunger, let me thank +The giver of the feast. For feast it is, +Though of ethereal, translunary fare-- +His story who pre-eminently of men +Seemed nourished upon starbeams and the stuff +Of rainbows, and the tempest, and the foam; +Who hardly brooked on his impatient soul +The fleshly trammels; whom at last the sea +Gave to the fire, from whose wild arms the winds +Took him, and shook him broadcast to the world. +In my young days of fervid poesy +He drew me to him with his strange far light,-- +He held me in a world all clouds and gleams, +And vasty phantoms, where ev'n Man himself +Moved like a phantom 'mid the clouds and gleams. +Anon the Earth recalled me, and a voice +Murmuring of dethroned divinities +And dead times deathless upon sculptured urn-- +And Philomela's long-descended pain +Flooding the night--and maidens of romance +To whom asleep St. Agnes' love-dreams come-- +Awhile constrained me to a sweet duresse +And thraldom, lapping me in high content, +Soft as the bondage of white amorous arms. +And then a third voice, long unheeded--held +Claustral and cold, and dissonant and tame-- +Found me at last with ears to hear. It sang +Of lowly sorrows and familiar joys, +Of simple manhood, artless womanhood, +And childhood fragrant as the limpid morn; +And from the homely matter nigh at hand +Ascending and dilating, it disclosed +Spaces and avenues, calm heights and breadths +Of vision, whence I saw each blade of grass +With roots that groped about eternity, +And in each drop of dew upon each blade +The mirror of the inseparable All. +The first voice, then the second, in their turns +Had sung me captive. This voice sang me free. +Therefore, above all vocal sons of men, +Since him whose sightless eyes saw hell and heaven, +To Wordsworth be my homage, thanks, and love. +Yet dear is Keats, a lucid presence, great +With somewhat of a glorious soullessness. +And dear, and great with an excess of soul, +Shelley, the hectic flamelike rose of verse, +All colour, and all odour, and all bloom, +Steeped in the noonlight, glutted with the sun, +But somewhat lacking root in homely earth, +Lacking such human moisture as bedews +His not less starward stem of song, who, rapt +Not less in glowing vision, yet retained +His clasp of the prehensible, retained +The warm touch of the world that lies to hand, +Not in vague dreams of man forgetting men, +Nor in vast morrows losing the to-day; +Who trusted nature, trusted fate, nor found +An Ogre, sovereign on the throne of things; +Who felt the incumbence of the unknown, yet bore +Without resentment the Divine reserve; +Who suffered not his spirit to dash itself +Against the crags and wavelike break in spray, +But 'midst the infinite tranquillities +Moved tranquil, and henceforth, by Rotha stream +And Rydal's mountain-mirror, and where flows +Yarrow thrice sung or Duddon to the sea, +And wheresoe'er man's heart is thrilled by tones +Struck from man's lyric heartstrings, shall survive. + + + +FELICITY + +A squalid, hideous town, where streams run black +With vomit of a hundred roaring mills,-- +Hither occasion calls me; and ev'n here, +All in the sable reek that wantonly +Defames the sunlight and deflowers the morn, +One may at least surmise the sky still blue. +Ev'n here, the myriad slaves of the machine +Deem life a boon; and here, in days far sped, +I overheard a kind-eyed girl relate +To her companions, how a favouring chance +By some few shillings weekly had increased +The earnings of her household, and she said: +"So now we are happy, having all we wished,"-- +Felicity indeed! though more it lay +In wanting little than in winning all. + +Felicity indeed! Across the years +To me her tones come back, rebuking; me, +Spreader of toils to snare the wandering Joy +No guile may capture and no force surprise-- +Only by them that never wooed her, won. + +O curst with wide desires and spacious dreams, +Too cunningly do ye accumulate +Appliances and means of happiness, +E'er to be happy! Lavish hosts, ye make +Elaborate preparation to receive +A shy and simple guest, who, warned of all +The ceremony and circumstance wherewith +Ye mean to entertain her, will not come. + + + +VER TENEBROSUM + +SONNETS OF MARCH AND APRIL 1885 + + +I + +THE SOUDANESE + +They wrong'd not us, nor sought 'gainst us to wage +The bitter battle. On their God they cried +For succour, deeming justice to abide +In heaven, if banish'd from earth's vicinage. +And when they rose with a gall'd lion's rage, +We, on the captor's, keeper's, tamer's side, +We, with the alien tyranny allied, +We bade them back to their Egyptian cage. +Scarce knew they who we were! A wind of blight +From the mysterious far north-west we came. +Our greatness now their veriest babes have learn'd, +Where, in wild desert homes, by day, by night, +Thousands that weep their warriors unreturn'd, +O England, O my country, curse thy name! + + +II + +HASHEEN + +"Of British arms, another victory!" +Triumphant words, through all the land's length sped. +Triumphant words, but, being interpreted, +Words of ill sound, woful as words can be. +Another carnage by the drear Red Sea-- +Another efflux of a sea more red! +Another bruising of the hapless head +Of a wrong'd people yearning to be free. +Another blot on her great name, who stands +Confounded, left intolerably alone +With the dilating spectre of her own +Dark sin, uprisen from yonder spectral sands: +Penitent more than to herself is known; +England, appall'd by her own crimson hands. + + +III + +THE ENGLISH DEAD + +Give honour to our heroes fall'n, how ill +Soe'er the cause that bade them forth to die. +Honour to him, the untimely struck, whom high +In place, more high in hope, 'twas fate's harsh will +With tedious pain unsplendidly to kill. +Honour to him, doom'd splendidly to die, +Child of the city whose foster-child am I, +Who, hotly leading up the ensanguin'd hill +His charging thousand, fell without a word-- +Fell, but shall fall not from our memory. +Also for them let honour's voice be heard +Who nameless sleep, while dull time covereth +With no illustrious shade of laurel tree, +But with the poppy alone, their deeds and death. + + +IV + +GORDON + +Idle although our homage be and vain, +Who loudly through the door of silence press +And vie in zeal to crown death's nakedness, +Not therefore shall melodious lips refrain +Thy praises, gentlest warrior without stain, +Denied the happy garland of success, +Foil'd by dark fate, but glorious none the less, +Greatest of losers, on the lone peak slain +Of Alp-like virtue. Not to-day, and not +To-morrow, shall thy spirit's splendour be +Oblivion's victim; but when God shall find +All human grandeur among men forgot, +Then only shall the world, grown old and blind, +Cease, in her dotage, to remember Thee. + + +V + +GORDON _(concluded)_ + +Arab, Egyptian, English--by the sword +Cloven, or pierced with spears, or bullet-mown-- +In equal fate they sleep: their dust is grown +A portion of the fiery sands abhorred. +And thou, what hast thou, hero, for reward, +Thou, England's glory and her shame? O'erthrown +Thou liest, unburied, or with grave unknown +As his to whom on Nebo's height the Lord +Showed all the land of Gilead, unto Dan; +Judah sea-fringed; Manasseh and Ephraim; +And Jericho palmy, to where Zoar lay; +And in a valley of Moab buried him, +Over against Beth-Peor, but no man +Knows of his sepulchre unto this day. + + +VI + +THE TRUE PATRIOTISM + +The ever-lustrous name of patriot +To no man be denied because he saw +Where in his country's wholeness lay the flaw, +Where, on her whiteness, the unseemly blot. +England! thy loyal sons condemn thee.--What! +Shall we be meek who from thine own breasts draw +Our fierceness? Not ev'n _thou_ shalt overawe +Us thy proud children nowise basely got. +Be this the measure of our loyalty-- +To feel thee noble and weep thy lapse the more. +This truth by thy true servants is confess'd-- +Thy sins, who love thee most, do most deplore. +Know thou thy faithful! Best they honour thee +Who honour in thee only what is best. + + +VII + +RESTORED ALLEGIANCE + +Dark is thy trespass, deep be thy remorse, +O England! Fittingly thine own feet bleed, +Submissive to the purblind guides that lead +Thy weary steps along this rugged course. +Yet ... when I glance abroad, and track the source +More selfish far, of other nations' deed, +And mark their tortuous craft, their jealous greed, +Their serpent-wisdom or mere soulless force, +Homeward returns my vagrant fealty, +Crying, "O England, shouldst thou one day fall, +Shatter'd in ruins by some Titan foe, +Justice were thenceforth weaker throughout all +The world, and Truth less passionately free, +And God the poorer for thine overthrow." + + +VIII + +THE POLITICAL LUMINARY + +A skilful leech, so long as we were whole: +Who scann'd the nation's every outward part, +But ah! misheard the beating of its heart. +Sire of huge sorrows, yet erect of soul. +Swift rider with calamity for goal, +Who, overtasking his equestrian art, +Unstall'd a steed full willing for the start, +But wondrous hard to curb or to control. +Sometimes we thought he led the people forth: +Anon he seemed to follow where they flew; +Lord of the golden tongue and smiting eyes; +Great out of season, and untimely wise: +A man whose virtue, genius, grandeur, worth +Wrought deadlier ill than ages can undo. + + +IX + +FOREIGN MENACE + +I marvel that this land, whereof I claim +The glory of sonship--for it _was_ erewhile +A glory to be sprung of Britain's isle, +Though now it well-nigh more resembles shame-- +I marvel that this land with heart so tame +Can brook the northern insolence and guile. +But most it angers me, to think how vile +Art thou, how base, from whom the insult came, +Unwieldly laggard, many an age behind +Thy sister Powers, in brain and conscience both; +In recognition of man's widening mind +And flexile adaptation to its growth: +Brute bulk, that bearest on thy back, half loth, +One wretched man, most pitied of mankind. + + +X + +HOME-ROOTEDNESS + +I cannot boast myself cosmopolite; +I own to "insularity," although +'Tis fall'n from fashion, as full well I know. +For somehow, being a plain and simple wight, +I am skin-deep a child of the new light, +But chiefly am mere Englishman below, +Of island-fostering; and can hate a foe, +And trust my kin before the Muscovite. +Whom shall I trust if not my kin? And whom +Account so near in natural bonds as these +Born of my mother England's mighty womb, +Nursed on my mother England's mighty knees, +And lull'd as I was lull'd in glory and gloom +With cradle-song of her protecting seas? + + +XI + +OUR EASTERN TREASURE + +In cobwebb'd corners dusty and dim I hear +A thin voice pipingly revived of late, +Which saith our India is a cumbrous weight, +An idle decoration, bought too dear. +The wiser world contemns not gorgeous gear; +Just pride is no mean factor in a State; +The sense of greatness keeps a nation great; +And mighty they who mighty can appear. +It may be that if hands of greed could steal +From England's grasp the envied orient prize, +This tide of gold would flood her still as now: +But were she the same England, made to feel +A brightness gone from out those starry eyes, +A splendour from that constellated brow? + + +XII + +REPORTED CONCESSIONS + +So we must palter, falter, cringe, and shrink, +And when the bully threatens, crouch or fly.-- +There are who tell me with a shuddering eye +That war's red cup is Satan's chosen drink. +Who shall gainsay them? Verily I do think +War is as hateful almost, and well-nigh +As ghastly, as this terrible Peace whereby +We halt for ever on the crater's brink +And feed the wind with phrases, while we know +There gapes at hand the infernal precipice +O'er which a gossamer bridge of words we throw, +Yet cannot choose but hear from the abyss +The sulphurous gloom's unfathomable hiss +And simmering lava's subterranean flow. + + +XIII + +NIGHTMARE + +(_Written during apparent imminence of war_) + +In a false dream I saw the Foe prevail. +The war was ended; the last smoke had rolled +Away: and we, erewhile the strong and bold, +Stood broken, humbled, withered, weak and pale, +And moan'd, "Our greatness is become a tale +To tell our children's babes when we are old. +They shall put by their playthings to be told +How England once, before the years of bale, +Throned above trembling, puissant, grandiose, calm, +Held Asia's richest jewel in her palm; +And with unnumbered isles barbaric, she +The broad hem of her glistering robe impearl'd; +Then, when she wound her arms about the world, +And had for vassal the obsequious sea." + + +XIV + +LAST WORD: TO THE COLONIES + +Brothers beyond the Atlantic's loud expanse; +And you that rear the innumerable fleece +Far southward 'mid the ocean named of peace; +Britons that past the Indian wave advance +Our name and spirit and world-predominance; +And you our kin that reap the earth's increase +Where crawls that long-backed mountain till it cease +Crown'd with the headland of bright esperance:-- +Remote compatriots wheresoe'er ye dwell, +By your prompt voices ringing clear and true +We know that with our England all is well: +Young is she yet, her world-task but begun! +By you we know her safe, and know by you +Her veins are million but her heart is one. + + + +EPIGRAMS + +'Tis human fortune's happiest height to be + A spirit melodious, lucid, poised, and whole; +Second in order of felicity + I hold it, to have walk'd with such a soul. + + * * * * * + +The statue--Buonarroti said--doth wait, +Thrall'd in the block, for me to emancipate. +The poem--saith the poet--wanders free +Till I betray it to captivity. + + * * * * * + +To keep in sight Perfection, and adore + The vision, is the artist's best delight; +His bitterest pang, that he can ne'er do more + Than keep her long'd-for loveliness in sight. + + * * * * * + +If Nature be a phantasm, as thou say'st, + A splendid fiction and prodigious dream, +To reach the real and true I'll make no haste, + More than content with worlds that only seem. + + * * * * * + +The Poet gathers fruit from every tree, +Yea, grapes from thorns and figs from thistles he. +Pluck'd by his hand, the basest weed that grows +Towers to a lily, reddens to a rose. + + * * * * * + +Brook, from whose bridge the wandering idler peers + To watch thy small fish dart or cool floor shine, +I would that bridge whose arches all are years + Spann'd not a less transparent wave than thine! + + * * * * * + +To Art we go as to a well, athirst, + And see our shadow 'gainst its mimic skies, +But in its depth must plunge and be immersed + To clasp the naiad Truth where low she lies. + + * * * * * + +In youth the artist voweth lover's vows +To Art, in manhood maketh her his spouse. +Well if her charms yet hold for him such joy +As when he craved some boon and she was coy! + + * * * * * + +Immured in sense, with fivefold bonds confined, + Rest we content if whispers from the stars +In waftings of the incalculable wind + Come blown at midnight through our prison-bars. + + * * * * * + +Love, like a bird, hath perch'd upon a spray + For thee and me to hearken what he sings. +Contented, he forgets to fly away; + But hush!... remind not Eros of his wings. + + * * * * * + +Think not thy wisdom can illume away +The ancient tanglement of night and day. +Enough, to acknowledge both, and both revere: +They see not clearliest who see all things clear. + + * * * * * + +In mid whirl of the dance of Time ye start, + Start at the cold touch of Eternity, +And cast your cloaks about you, and depart: + The minstrels pause not in their minstrelsy. + + * * * * * + +The beasts in field are glad, and have not wit + To know why leapt their hearts when springtime shone. +Man looks at his own bliss, considers it, + Weighs it with curious fingers; and 'tis gone. + + * * * * * + +Momentous to himself as I to me + Hath each man been that ever woman bore; +Once, in a lightning-flash of sympathy, + I _felt_ this truth, an instant, and no more. + + * * * * * + +The gods man makes he breaks; proclaims them each + Immortal, and himself outlives them all: +But whom he set not up he cannot reach + To shake His cloud-dark sun-bright pedestal. + + * * * * * + +The children romp within the graveyard's pale; +The lark sings o'er a madhouse, or a gaol;-- +Such nice antitheses of perfect poise +Chance in her curious rhetoric employs. + + * * * * * + +Our lithe thoughts gambol close to God's abyss, +Children whose home is by the precipice. +Fear not thy little ones shall o'er it fall: +Solid, though viewless, is the girdling wall. + + * * * * * + +Lives there whom pain hath evermore pass'd by +And Sorrow shunn'd with an averted eye? +Him do thou pity, him above the rest, +Him of all hapless mortals most unbless'd. + + * * * * * + +Say what thou wilt, the young are happy never. +Give me bless'd Age, beyond the fire and fever,-- +Past the delight that shatters, hope that stings, +And eager flutt'ring of life's ignorant wings. + + * * * * * + +Onward the chariot of the Untarrying moves; + Nor day divulges him nor night conceals; +Thou hear'st the echo of unreturning hooves + And thunder of irrevocable wheels. + + * * * * * + +A deft musician does the breeze become + Whenever an AEolian harp it finds: +Hornpipe and hurdygurdy both are dumb + Unto the most musicianly of winds. + + * * * * * + +I follow Beauty; of her train am I: + Beauty whose voice is earth and sea and air; +Who serveth, and her hands for all things ply; + Who reigneth, and her throne is everywhere. + + * * * * * + +Toiling and yearning, 'tis man's doom to see + No perfect creature fashion'd of his hands. +Insulted by a flower's immaculacy, + And mock'd at by the flawless stars he stands. + + * * * * * + +For metaphors of man we search the skies, + And find our allegory in all the air. +We gaze on Nature with Narcissus-eyes, +Enamour'd of our shadow everywhere. + + * * * * * + +One music maketh its occult abode + In all things scatter'd from great Beauty's hand; +And evermore the deepest words of God + Are yet the easiest to understand. + + * * * * * + +Enough of mournful melodies, my lute! +Be henceforth joyous, or be henceforth mute. +Song's breath is wasted when it does but fan +The smouldering infelicity of man. + + * * * * * + +I pluck'd this flower, O brighter flower, for thee, +There where the river dies into the sea. +To kiss it the wild west wind hath made free: +Kiss it thyself and give it back to me. + + * * * * * + +To be as this old elm full loth were I, + That shakes in the autumn storm its palsied head. +Hewn by the weird last woodman let me lie + Ere the path rustle with my foliage shed. + + * * * * * + +Ah, vain, thrice vain in the end, thy hate and rage, +And the shrill tempest of thy clamorous page. +True poets but transcendent lovers be, +And one great love-confession poesy. + + * * * * * + +His rhymes the poet flings at all men's feet, + And whoso will may trample on his rhymes. +Should Time let die a song that's true and sweet, + The singer's loss were more than match'd by Time's. + + * * * * * + +ON LONGFELLOW'S DEATH + +No puissant singer he, whose silence grieves + To-day the great West's tender heart and strong; +No singer vast of voice: yet one who leaves + His native air the sweeter for his song. + + * * * * * + +BYRON THE VOLUPTUARY + +Too avid of earth's bliss, he was of those + Whom Delight flies because they give her chase. +Only the odour of her wild hair blows + Back in their faces hungering for her face. + + * * * * * + +ANTONY AT ACTIUM + +He holds a dubious balance:--yet _that_ scale, +Whose freight the world is, surely shall prevail? +No; Cleopatra droppeth into _this_ +One counterpoising orient sultry kiss. + + * * * * * + +ART + +The thousand painful steps at last are trod, + At last the temple's difficult door we win; +But perfect on his pedestal, the god + Freezes us hopeless when we enter in. + + * * * * * + +KEATS + +He dwelt with the bright gods of elder time, + On earth and in their cloudy haunts above. +He loved them: and in recompense sublime, + The gods, alas! gave him their fatal love. + + * * * * * + +AFTER READING "TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT" + +Your Marlowe's page I close, my Shakspere's ope. + How welcome--after gong and cymbal's din-- +The continuity, the long slow slope + And vast curves of the gradual violin! + + * * * * * + +SHELLEY AND HARRIET WESTBROOK + +A star look'd down from heaven and loved a flower +Grown in earth's garden--loved it for an hour: + +Let eyes that trace his orbit in the spheres +Refuse not, to a ruin'd rosebud, tears. + + * * * * * + +THE PLAY OF "KING LEAR" + +Here Love the slain with Love the slayer lies; + Deep drown'd are both in the same sunless pool. +Up from its depths that mirror thundering skies + Bubbles the wan mirth of the mirthless Fool. + + * * * * + +TO A POET + +Time, the extortioner, from richest beauty +Takes heavy toll and wrings rapacious duty. +Austere of feature if thou carve thy rhyme, +Perchance 'twill pay the lesser tax to Time. + + * * * * * + +THE YEAR'S MINSTRELSY + +Spring, the low prelude of a lordlier song: + Summer, a music without hint of death: +Autumn, a cadence lingeringly long: + Winter, a pause;--the Minstrel-Year takes breath. + + * * * * * + +THE RUINED ABBEY + +Flower fondled, clasp'd in ivy's close caress, + It seems allied with Nature, yet apart:-- +Of wood's and wave's insensate loveliness + The glad, sad, tranquil, passionate, human heart. + + * * * * * + +MICHELANGELO'S "MOSES" + +The captain's might, and mystery of the seer-- + Remoteness of Jehovah's colloquist, +Nearness of man's heaven-advocate--are here: + Alone Mount Nebo's harsh foreshadow is miss'd. + + * * * * * + +THE ALPS + +Adieu, white brows of Europe! sovereign brows, + That wear the sunset for a golden tiar. +With me in memory shall your phantoms house + For ever, whiter than yourselves, and higher. + + * * * * * + +THE CATHEDRAL SPIRE + +It soars like hearts of hapless men who dare + To sue for gifts the gods refuse to allot; +Who climb for ever toward they know not where, + Baffled for ever by they know not what. + + * * * * * + +AN EPITAPH + +His friends he loved. His fellest earthly foes-- + Cats--I believe he did but feign to hate. +My hand will miss the insinuated nose, + Mine eyes the tail that wagg'd contempt at Fate. + + * * * * * + +THE METROPOLITAN UNDERGROUND RAILWAY + +Here were a goodly place wherein to die;-- + Grown latterly to sudden change averse, +All violent contrasts fain avoid would I + On passing from this world into a worse. + + * * * * * + +TO A SEABIRD + +Fain would I have thee barter fates with me,-- +Lone loiterer where the shells like jewels be, +Hung on the fringe and frayed hem of the sea. +But no,--'twere cruel, wild-wing'd Bliss! to thee. + + * * * * * + +ON DUeRER'S _MELENCOLIA_ + +What holds her fixed far eyes nor lets them range? +Not the strange sea, strange earth, or heav'n more strange; +But her own phantom dwarfing these great three, +More strange than all, more old than heav'n, earth, sea. + + * * * * * + +TANTALUS + +He wooes for ever, with foil'd lips of drouth, +The wave that wearies not to mock his mouth. +'Tis Lethe's; they alone that tide have quaff'd +Who never thirsted for the oblivious draught. + + * * * * * + +A MAIDEN'S EPITAPH + +She dwelt among us till the flowers, 'tis said, + Grew jealous of her: with precipitate feet, +As loth to wrong them unawares, she fled. + Earth is less fragrant now, and heaven more sweet. + + + +WORDSWORTH'S GRAVE + + +TO JAMES BROMLEY + +WITH "WORDSWORTH'S GRAVE" + +Ere vandal lords with lust of gold accurst + Deface each hallowed hillside we revere-- +Ere cities in their million-throated thirst + Menace each sacred mere-- +Let us give thanks because one nook hath been + Unflooded yet by desecration's wave, +The little churchyard in the valley green + That holds our Wordsworth's grave. + +'Twas there I plucked these elegiac blooms, + There where he rests 'mid comrades fit and few, +And thence I bring this growth of classic tombs, + An offering, friend, to you-- +You who have loved like me his simple themes, + Loved his sincere large accent nobly plain, +And loved the land whose mountains and whose streams + Are lovelier for his strain. + +It may be that his manly chant, beside + More dainty numbers, seems a rustic tune; +It may be, thought has broadened since he died + Upon the century's noon; +It may be that we can no longer share + The faith which from his fathers he received; +It may be that our doom is to despair + Where he with joy believed;-- + +Enough that there is none since risen who sings + A song so gotten of the immediate soul, +So instant from the vital fount of things + Which is our source and goal; +And though at touch of later hands there float + More artful tones than from his lyre he drew, +Ages may pass ere trills another note + So sweet, so great, so true. + + + +WORDSWORTH'S GRAVE + +I + +The old rude church, with bare, bald tower, is here; + Beneath its shadow high-born Rotha flows; +Rotha, remembering well who slumbers near, + And with cool murmur lulling his repose + +Rotha, remembering well who slumbers near. + His hills, his lakes, his streams are with him yet. +Surely the heart that read her own heart clear + Nature forgets not soon: 'tis we forget. + +We that with vagrant soul his fixity + Have slighted; faithless, done his deep faith wrong; +Left him for poorer loves, and bowed the knee + To misbegotten strange new gods of song. + +Yet, led by hollow ghost or beckoning elf + Far from her homestead to the desert bourn, +The vagrant soul returning to herself + Wearily wise, must needs to him return. + +To him and to the powers that with him dwell:-- + Inflowings that divulged not whence they came; +And that secluded spirit unknowable, + The mystery we make darker with a name; + +The Somewhat which we name but cannot know, + Ev'n as we name a star and only see +His quenchless flashings forth, which ever show + And ever hide him, and which are not he. + + +II + +Poet who sleepest by this wandering wave! + When thou wast born, what birth-gift hadst thou then? +To thee what wealth was that the Immortals gave, + The wealth thou gavest in thy turn to men? + +Not Milton's keen, translunar music thine; + Not Shakespeare's cloudless, boundless human view; +Not Shelley's flush of rose on peaks divine; + Nor yet the wizard twilight Coleridge knew. + +What hadst thou that could make so large amends + For all thou hadst not and thy peers possessed, +Motion and fire, swift means to radiant ends?-- + Thou hadst, for weary feet, the gift of rest. + +From Shelley's dazzling glow or thunderous haze, + From Byron's tempest-anger, tempest-mirth, +Men turned to thee and found--not blast and blaze, + Tumult of tottering heavens, but peace on earth, + +Nor peace that grows by Lethe, scentless flower, + There in white languors to decline and cease; +But peace whose names are also rapture, power, + Clear sight, and love: for these are parts of peace. + + +III + +I hear it vouched the Muse is with us still;-- + If less divinely frenzied than of yore, +In lieu of feelings she has wondrous skill + To simulate emotion felt no more. + +Not such the authentic Presence pure, that made + This valley vocal in the great days gone!-- +In _his_ great days, while yet the spring-time played + About him, and the mighty morning shone. + +No word-mosaic artificer, he sang + A lofty song of lowly weal and dole. +Right from the heart, right to the heart it sprang, + Or from the soul leapt instant to the soul. + +He felt the charm of childhood, grace of youth, + Grandeur of age, insisting to be sung. +The impassioned argument was simple truth + Half-wondering at its own melodious tongue. + +Impassioned? ay, to the song's ecstatic core! + But far removed were clangour, storm and feud; +For plenteous health was his, exceeding store + Of joy, and an impassioned quietude. + + +IV + +A hundred years ere he to manhood came, + Song from celestial heights had wandered down, +Put off her robe of sunlight, dew and flame, + And donned a modish dress to charm the Town. + +Thenceforth she but festooned the porch of things; + Apt at life's lore, incurious what life meant. +Dextrous of hand, she struck her lute's few strings; + Ignobly perfect, barrenly content. + +Unflushed with ardour and unblanched with awe, + Her lips in profitless derision curled, +She saw with dull emotion--if she saw-- + The vision of the glory of the world. + +The human masque she watched, with dreamless eyes + In whose clear shallows lurked no trembling shade: +The stars, unkenned by her, might set and rise, + Unmarked by her, the daisies bloom and fade. + +The age grew sated with her sterile wit. + Herself waxed weary on her loveless throne. +Men felt life's tide, the sweep and surge of it, + And craved a living voice, a natural tone. + +For none the less, though song was but half true, + The world lay common, one abounding theme. +Man joyed and wept, and fate was ever new, + And love was sweet, life real, death no dream. + +In sad stern verse the rugged scholar-sage + Bemoaned his toil unvalued, youth uncheered. +His numbers wore the vesture of the age, + But, 'neath it beating, the great heart was heard. + +From dewy pastures, uplands sweet with thyme, + A virgin breeze freshened the jaded day. +It wafted Collins' lonely vesper-chime, + It breathed abroad the frugal note of Gray. + +It fluttered here and there, nor swept in vain + The dusty haunts where futile echoes dwell,-- +Then, in a cadence soft as summer rain, + And sad from Auburn voiceless, drooped and fell. + +It drooped and fell, and one 'neath northern skies, + With southern heart, who tilled his father's field, +Found Poesy a-dying, bade her rise + And touch quick nature's hem and go forth healed. + +On life's broad plain the ploughman's conquering share + Upturned the fallow lands of truth anew, +And o'er the formal garden's trim parterre + The peasant's team a ruthless furrow drew. + +Bright was his going forth, but clouds ere long + Whelmed him; in gloom his radiance set, and those +Twin morning stars of the new century's song, + Those morning stars that sang together, rose. + +In elvish speech the _Dreamer_ told his tale + Of marvellous oceans swept by fateful wings.-- +The _Seer_ strayed not from earth's human pale, + But the mysterious face of common things + +He mirrored as the moon in Rydal Mere + Is mirrored, when the breathless night hangs blue: +Strangely remote she seems and wondrous near, + And by some nameless difference born anew. + + +V + +Peace--peace--and rest! Ah, how the lyre is loth, + Or powerless now, to give what all men seek! +Either it deadens with ignoble sloth + Or deafens with shrill tumult, loudly weak. + +Where is the singer whose large notes and clear + Can heal and arm and plenish and sustain? +Lo, one with empty music floods the ear, + And one, the heart refreshing, tires the brain. + +And idly tuneful, the loquacious throng + Flutter and twitter, prodigal of time, +And little masters make a toy of song + Till grave men weary of the sound of rhyme. + +And some go prankt in faded antique dress, + Abhorring to be hale and glad and free; +And some parade a conscious naturalness, + The scholar's not the child's simplicity. + +Enough;--and wisest who from words forbear. + The kindly river rails not as it glides; +And suave and charitable, the winning air + Chides not at all, or only him who chides. + + +VI + +Nature! we storm thine ear with choric notes. + Thou answerest through the calm great nights and days, +"Laud me who will: not tuneless are your throats; + Yet if ye paused I should not miss the praise." + +We falter, half-rebuked, and sing again. + We chant thy desertness and haggard gloom, +Or with thy splendid wrath inflate the strain, + Or touch it with thy colour and perfume. + +One, his melodious blood aflame for thee, + Wooed with fierce lust, his hot heart world-defiled. +One, with the upward eye of infancy, + Looked in thy face, and felt himself thy child. + +Thee he approached without distrust or dread-- + Beheld thee throned, an awful queen, above-- +Climbed to thy lap and merely laid his head + Against thy warm wild heart of mother-love. + +He heard that vast heart beating--thou didst press + Thy child so close, and lov'dst him unaware. +Thy beauty gladdened him; yet he scarce less + Had loved thee, had he never found thee fair! + +For thou wast not as legendary lands + To which with curious eyes and ears we roam. +Nor wast thou as a fane mid solemn sands, + Where palmers halt at evening. Thou wast home. + +And here, at home, still bides he; but he sleeps; + Not to be wakened even at thy word; +Though we, vague dreamers, dream he somewhere keeps + An ear still open to thy voice still heard,-- + +Thy voice, as heretofore, about him blown, + For ever blown about his silence now; +Thy voice, though deeper, yet so like his own + That almost, when he sang, we deemed 'twas thou! + + +VII + +Behind Helm Crag and Silver Howe the sheen + Of the retreating day is less and less. +Soon will the lordlier summits, here unseen, + Gather the night about their nakedness. + +The half-heard bleat of sheep comes from the hill, + Faint sounds of childish play are in the air. +The river murmurs past. All else is still. + The very graves seem stiller than they were. + +Afar though nation be on nation hurled, + And life with toil and ancient pain depressed, +Here one may scarce believe the whole wide world + Is not at peace, and all man's heart at rest. + +Rest! 'twas the gift _he_ gave; and peace! the shade + _He_ spread, for spirits fevered with the sun. +To him his bounties are come back--here laid + In rest, in peace, his labour nobly done. + + + +LACHRYMAE MUSARUM +AND +OTHER POEMS + + + +TO +RICHARD HOLT HUTTON +AND +MEREDITH TOWNSEND + +WITH GRATITUDE + + + +LACHRYMAE MUSARUM + +(6TH OCTOBER 1892) + +Low, like another's, lies the laurelled head: +The life that seemed a perfect song is o'er: +Carry the last great bard to his last bed. +Land that he loved, thy noblest voice is mute. +Land that he loved, that loved him! nevermore +Meadow of thine, smooth lawn or wild sea-shore, +Gardens of odorous bloom and tremulous fruit, +Or woodlands old, like Druid couches spread, +The master's feet shall tread. +Death's little rift hath rent the faultless lute: +The singer of undying songs is dead. + + Lo, in this season pensive-hued and grave, +While fades and falls the doomed, reluctant leaf +From withered Earth's fantastic coronal, +With wandering sighs of forest and of wave +Mingles the murmur of a people's grief +For him whose leaf shall fade not, neither fall. +He hath fared forth, beyond these suns and showers. +For us, the autumn glow, the autumn flame, +And soon the winter silence shall be ours: +Him the eternal spring of fadeless fame +Crowns with no mortal flowers. + + Rapt though he be from us, +Virgil salutes him, and Theocritus; +Catullus, mightiest-brained Lucretius, each +Greets him, their brother, on the Stygian beach; +Proudly a gaunt right hand doth Dante reach; +Milton and Wordsworth bid him welcome home; +Bright Keats to touch his raiment doth beseech; +Coleridge, his locks aspersed with fairy foam, +Calm Spenser, Chaucer suave, +His equal friendship crave: +And godlike spirits hail him guest, in speech +Of Athens, Florence, Weimar, Stratford, Rome. + + What needs his laurel our ephemeral tears, +To save from visitation of decay? +Not in this temporal sunlight, now, that bay +Blooms, nor to perishable mundane ears +Sings he with lips of transitory clay; +For he hath joined the chorus of his peers +In habitations of the perfect day: +His earthly notes a heavenly audience hears, +And more melodious are henceforth the spheres, +Enriched with music stol'n from earth away. + + He hath returned to regions whence he came. +Him doth the spirit divine +Of universal loveliness reclaim. +All nature is his shrine. +Seek him henceforward in the wind and sea, +In earth's and air's emotion or repose, +In every star's august serenity, +And in the rapture of the flaming rose. +There seek him if ye would not seek in vain, +There, in the rhythm and music of the Whole; +Yea, and for ever in the human soul +Made stronger and more beauteous by his strain. + + For lo! creation's self is one great choir, +And what is nature's order but the rhyme +Whereto the worlds keep time, +And all things move with all things from their prime? +Who shall expound the mystery of the lyre? +In far retreats of elemental mind +Obscurely comes and goes +The imperative breath of song, that as the wind +Is trackless, and oblivious whence it blows. +Demand of lilies wherefore they are white, +Extort her crimson secret from the rose, +But ask not of the Muse that she disclose +The meaning of the riddle of her might: +Somewhat of all things sealed and recondite, +Save the enigma of herself, she knows. +The master could not tell, with all his lore, +Wherefore he sang, or whence the mandate sped; +Ev'n as the linnet sings, so I, he said;-- +Ah, rather as the imperial nightingale, +That held in trance the ancient Attic shore, +And charms the ages with the notes that o'er +All woodland chants immortally prevail! +And now, from our vain plaudits greatly fled, +He with diviner silence dwells instead, +And on no earthly sea with transient roar, +Unto no earthly airs, he trims his sail, +But far beyond our vision and our hail +Is heard for ever and is seen no more. + + No more, O never now, +Lord of the lofty and the tranquil brow +Whereon nor snows of time +Have fall'n, nor wintry rime, +Shall men behold thee, sage and mage sublime. +Once, in his youth obscure, +The maker of this verse, which shall endure +By splendour of its theme that cannot die, +Beheld thee eye to eye, +And touched through thee the hand +Of every hero of thy race divine, +Ev'n to the sire of all the laurelled line, +The sightless wanderer on the Ionian strand, +With soul as healthful as the poignant brine, +Wide as his skies and radiant as his seas, +Starry from haunts of his Familiars nine, +Glorious Maeonides. +Yea, I beheld thee, and behold thee yet: +Thou hast forgotten, but can I forget? +The accents of thy pure and sovereign tongue, +Are they not ever goldenly impressed +On memory's palimpsest? +I see the wizard locks like night that hung, +I tread the floor thy hallowing feet have trod; +I see the hands a nation's lyre that strung, +The eyes that looked through life and gazed on God. + + The seasons change, the winds they shift and veer; +The grass of yesteryear +Is dead; the birds depart, the groves decay: +Empires dissolve and peoples disappear: +Song passes not away. +Captains and conquerors leave a little dust, +And kings a dubious legend of their reign; +The swords of Caesars, they are less than rust: +The poet doth remain. +Dead is Augustus, Maro is alive; +And thou, the Mantuan of our age and clime, +Like Virgil shalt thy race and tongue survive, +Bequeathing no less honeyed words to time, +Embalmed in amber of eternal rhyme, +And rich with sweets from every Muse's hive; +While to the measure of the cosmic rune +For purer ears thou shalt thy lyre attune, +And heed no more the hum of idle praise +In that great calm our tumults cannot reach, +Master who crown'st our immelodious days +With flower of perfect speech. + + + +DEDICATION OF "THE DREAM OF MAN" + +TO LONDON, MY HOSTESS + +City that waitest to be sung,-- + For whom no hand +To mighty strains the lyre hath strung + In all this land, +Though mightier theme the mightiest ones + Sang not of old, +The thrice three sisters' godlike sons + With lips of gold,-- +Till greater voice thy greatness sing + In loftier times, +Suffer an alien muse to bring + Her votive rhymes. + +Yes, alien in thy midst am I, + Not of thy brood; +The nursling of a norland sky + Of rougher mood: +To me, thy tarrying guest, to me, + 'Mid thy loud hum, +Strayed visions of the moor or sea + Tormenting come. +Above the thunder of the wheels + That hurry by, +From lapping of lone waves there steals + A far-sent sigh; + +And many a dream-reared mountain crest + My feet have trod, +There where thy Minster in the West + Gropes toward God. +Yet, from thy presence if I go, + By woodlands deep +Or ocean-fringes, thou, I know, + Wilt haunt my sleep; +Thy restless tides of life will foam, + Still, in my sight; +Thy imperturbable dark dome + Will crown my night. + +O sea of living waves that roll + On golden sands, +Or break on tragic reef and shoal + 'Mid fatal lands; +O forest wrought of living leaves, + Some filled with Spring, +Where joy life's festal raiment weaves + And all birds sing,-- +Some trampled in the miry ways, + Or whirled along +By fury of tempestuous days,-- + Take thou my song! + +For thou hast scorned not heretofore + The gifts of rhyme +I dropped, half faltering, at thy door, + City sublime; +And though 'tis true I am but guest + Within thy gate, +Unto thy hands I owe the best + Awards of fate. +Imperial hostess! thanks from me + To thee belong: +O living forest, living sea, + Take thou my song! + + + +THE DREAM OF MAN + +To the eye and the ear of the Dreamer + This Dream out of darkness flew, +Through the horn or the ivory portal, + But he wist not which of the two. + +It was the Human Spirit, + Of all men's souls the Soul, +Man the unwearied climber, + That climbed to the unknown goal. +And up the steps of the ages, + The difficult steep ascent, +Man the unwearied climber + Pauseless and dauntless went. +AEons rolled behind him + With thunder of far retreat, +And still as he strove he conquered + And laid his foes at his feet. +Inimical powers of nature, + Tempest and flood and fire, +The spleen of fickle seasons + That loved to baulk his desire, +The breath of hostile climates, + The ravage of blight and dearth, +The old unrest that vexes + The heart of the moody earth, +The genii swift and radiant + Sabreing heaven with flame, +He, with a keener weapon, + The sword of his wit, overcame. +Disease and her ravening offspring, + Pain with the thousand teeth, +He drave into night primeval, + The nethermost worlds beneath, +Till the Lord of Death, the undying, + Ev'n Asrael the King, +No more with Furies for heralds + Came armed with scourge and sting, +But gentle of voice and of visage, + By calm Age ushered and led, +A guest, serenely featured, + Entering, woke no dread. +And, as the rolling aeons + Retreated with pomp of sound, +Man's spirit, grown too lordly + For this mean orb to bound, +By arts in his youth undreamed of + His terrene fetters broke, +With enterprise ethereal + Spurning the natal yoke, +And, stung with divine ambition, + And fired with a glorious greed, +He annexed the stars and the planets + And peopled them with his seed. + +Then said he, "The infinite Scripture + I have read and interpreted clear, +And searching all worlds I have found not + My sovereign or my peer. +In what room of the palace of nature + Resides the invisible God? +For all her doors I have opened, + And all her floors I have trod. +If greater than I be her tenant, + Let him answer my challenging call: +Till then I admit no rival, + But crown myself master of all." +And forth as that word went bruited, + By Man unto Man were raised +Fanes of devout self-homage, + Where he who praised was the praised; +And from vast unto vast of creation + The new evangel ran, +And an odour of world-wide incense + Went up from Man unto Man; +Until, on a solemn feast-day, + When the world's usurping lord +At a million impious altars + His own proud image adored, +God spake as He stept from His ambush: + "O great in thine own conceit, +I will show thee thy source, how humble, + Thy goal, for a god how unmeet." + +Thereat, by the word of the Maker + The Spirit of Man was led +To a mighty peak of vision, + Where God to His creature said: +"Look eastward toward time's sunrise." + And, age upon age untold, +The Spirit of Man saw clearly + The Past as a chart out-rolled,-- +Beheld his base beginnings + In the depths of time, and his strife, +With beasts and crawling horrors + For leave to live, when life +Meant but to slay and to procreate, + To feed and to sleep, among +Mere mouths, voracities boundless, + Blind lusts, desires without tongue, +And ferocities vast, fulfilling + Their being's malignant law, +While nature was one hunger, + And one hate, all fangs and maw. + +With that, for a single moment, + Abashed at his own descent, +In humbleness Man's Spirit + At the feet of the Maker bent; +But, swifter than light, he recovered + The stature and pose of his pride, +And, "Think not thus to shame me + With my mean birth," he cried. +"This is my loftiest greatness, + To have been born so low; +Greater than Thou the ungrowing + Am I that for ever grow." +And God forbore to rebuke him, + But answered brief and stern, +Bidding him toward time's sunset + His vision westward turn; +And the Spirit of Man obeying + Beheld as a chart out-rolled +The likeness and form of the Future, + Age upon age untold; +Beheld his own meridian, + And beheld his dark decline, +His secular fall to nadir + From summits of light divine, +Till at last, amid worlds exhausted, + And bankrupt of force and fire, +'Twas his, in a torrent of darkness, + Like a sputtering lamp to expire. + +Then a war of shame and anger + Did the realm of his soul divide; +"'Tis false, 'tis a lying vision," + In the face of his God he cried. +"Thou thinkest to daunt me with shadows; + Not such as Thou feign'st is my doom: +From glory to rise unto glory + Is mine, who have risen from gloom. +I doubt if Thou knew'st at my making + How near to thy throne I should climb, +O'er the mountainous slopes of the ages + And the conquered peaks of time. +Nor shall I look backward nor rest me + Till the uttermost heights I have trod, +And am equalled with Thee or above Thee, + The mate or the master of God." + +Ev'n thus Man turned from the Maker, + With thundered defiance wild, +And God with a terrible silence + Reproved the speech of His child. +And man returned to his labours, + And stiffened the neck of his will; +And the aeons still went rolling, + And his power was crescent still. +But yet there remained to conquer + One foe, and the greatest--although +Despoiled of his ancient terrors, + At heart, as of old, a foe-- +Unmaker of all, and renewer, + Who winnows the world with his wing, +The Lord of Death, the undying, + Ev'n Asrael the King. + +And lo, Man mustered his forces + The war of wars to wage, +And with storm and thunder of onset + Did the foe of foes engage, +And the Lord of Death, the undying, + Was beset and harried sore, +In his immemorial fastness + At night's aboriginal core. +And during years a thousand + Man leaguered his enemy's hold, +While nature was one deep tremor, + And the heart of the world waxed cold, +Till the phantom battlements wavered, + And the ghostly fortress fell, +And Man with shadowy fetters + Bound fast great Asrael. + +So, to each star in the heavens, + The exultant word was blown, +The annunciation tremendous, + _Death is overthrown!_ +And Space in her ultimate borders + Prolonging the jubilant tone, +With hollow ingeminations, + Sighed, _Death is overthrown!_ +And God in His house of silence, + Where He dwelleth aloof, alone, +Paused in His tasks to hearken: + _Death is overthrown!_ + +Then a solemn and high thanksgiving + By Man unto Man was sung, +In his temples of self-adoration, + With his own multitudinous tongue; +And he said to his Soul: "Rejoice thou + For thy last great foe lies bound, +Ev'n Asrael the Unmaker, + Unmade, disarmed, discrowned." + +And behold, his Soul rejoiced not, + The breath of whose being was strife, +For life with nothing to vanquish + Seemed but the shadow of life. +No goal invited and promised + And divinely provocative shone; +And Fear having fled, her sister, + Blest Hope, in her train was gone; +And the coping and crown of achievement + Was hell than defeat more dire-- +The torment of all-things-compassed, + The plague of nought-to-desire; +And Man the invincible queller, + Man with his foot on his foes, +In boundless satiety hungred, + Restless from utter repose, +Victor of nature, victor + Of the prince of the powers of the air, +By mighty weariness vanquished, + And crowned with august despair. + +Then, at his dreadful zenith, + He cried unto God: "O Thou +Whom of old in my days of striving + Methought I needed not,--now, +In this my abject glory, + My hopeless and helpless might, +Hearken and cheer and succour!" + And God from His lonely height, +From eternity's passionless summits, + On suppliant Man looked down, +And His brow waxed human with pity, + Belying its awful crown. +"Thy richest possession," He answered, + "Blest Hope, will I restore, +And the infinite wealth of weakness + Which was thy strength of yore; +And I will arouse from slumber, + In his hold where bound he lies, +Thine enemy most benefic;-- + O Asrael, hear and rise!" + +And a sound like the heart of nature + Riven and cloven and torn, +Announced, to the ear universal, + Undying Death new-born. +Sublime he rose in his fetters, + And shook the chains aside +Ev'n as some mortal sleeper + 'Mid forests in autumntide +Rises and shakes off lightly + The leaves that lightly fell +On his limbs and his hair unheeded + While as yet he slumbered well. + +And Deity paused and hearkened, + Then turned to the undivine, +Saying, "O Man, My creature, + Thy lot was more blest than Mine. +I taste not delight of seeking, + Nor the boon of longing know. +There is but one joy transcendent, + And I hoard it not but bestow. +I hoard it not nor have tasted, + But freely I gave it to thee-- +The joy of most glorious striving, + Which dieth in victory." +Thus, to the Soul of the Dreamer, + This Dream out of darkness flew, +Through the horn or the ivory portal, + But he wist not which of the two. + + + +SHELLEY'S CENTENARY + +(4TH AUGUST 1892) + +Within a narrow span of time, +Three princes of the realm of rhyme, +At height of youth or manhood's prime, + From earth took wing, +To join the fellowship sublime + Who, dead, yet sing. + +He, first, his earliest wreath who wove +Of laurel grown in Latmian grove, +Conquered by pain and hapless love + Found calmer home, +Roofed by the heaven that glows above + Eternal Rome. + +A fierier soul, its own fierce prey, +And cumbered with more mortal clay, +At Missolonghi flamed away, + And left the air +Reverberating to this day + Its loud despair. + +Alike remote from Byron's scorn, +And Keats's magic as of morn +Bursting for ever newly-born + On forests old, +Waking a hoary world forlorn + With touch of gold, + +Shelley, the cloud-begot, who grew +Nourished on air and sun and dew, +Into that Essence whence he drew + His life and lyre +Was fittingly resolved anew + Through wave and fire. + +'Twas like his rapid soul! 'Twas meet +That he, who brooked not Time's slow feet, +With passage thus abrupt and fleet + Should hurry hence, +Eager the Great Perhaps to greet + With Why? and Whence? + +Impatient of the world's fixed way, +He ne'er could suffer God's delay, +But all the future in a day + Would build divine, +And the whole past in ruins lay, + An emptied shrine. + +Vain vision! but the glow, the fire, +The passion of benign desire, +The glorious yearning, lift him higher + Than many a soul +That mounts a million paces nigher + Its meaner goal. + +And power is his, if naught besides, +In that thin ether where he rides, +Above the roar of human tides + To ascend afar, +Lost in a storm of light that hides + His dizzy car. + +Below, the unhastening world toils on, +And here and there are victories won, +Some dragon slain, some justice done, + While, through the skies, +A meteor rushing on the sun, + He flares and dies. + +But, as he cleaves yon ether clear +Notes from the unattempted Sphere +He scatters to the enchanted ear + Of earth's dim throng, +Whose dissonance doth more endear + The showering song. + +In other shapes than he forecast +The world is moulded: his fierce blast,-- +His wild assault upon the Past,-- + These things are vain; +Revolt is transient: what _must_ last + Is that pure strain, + +Which seems the wandering voices blent +Of every virgin element,-- +A sound from ocean caverns sent,-- + An airy call +From the pavilioned firmament + O'erdoming all. + +And in this world of worldlings, where +Souls rust in apathy, and ne'er +A great emotion shakes the air, + And life flags tame, +And rare is noble impulse, rare + The impassioned aim, + +'Tis no mean fortune to have heard +A singer who, if errors blurred +His sight, had yet a spirit stirred + By vast desire, +And ardour fledging the swift word + With plumes of fire. + +A creature of impetuous breath, +Our torpor deadlier than death +He knew not; whatsoe'er he saith + Flashes with life: +He spurreth men, he quickeneth + To splendid strife. + +And in his gusts of song he brings +Wild odours shaken from strange wings, +And unfamiliar whisperings + From far lips blown, +While all the rapturous heart of things + Throbs through his own,-- + +His own that from the burning pyre +One who had loved his wind-swept lyre +Out of the sharp teeth of the fire + Unmolten drew, +Beside the sea that in her ire + Smote him and slew. + + + +A GOLDEN HOUR + +A beckoning spirit of gladness seemed afloat, + That lightly danced in laughing air before us: +The earth was all in tune, and you a note + Of Nature's happy chorus. + +'Twas like a vernal morn, yet overhead + The leafless boughs across the lane were knitting: +The ghost of some forgotten Spring, we said, + O'er Winter's world comes flitting. + +Or was it Spring herself, that, gone astray, + Beyond the alien frontier chose to tarry? +Or but some bold outrider of the May, + Some April-emissary? + +The apparition faded on the air, + Capricious and incalculable comer.-- +Wilt thou too pass, and leave my chill days bare, + And fall'n my phantom Summer? + + + +AT THE GRAVE OF CHARLES LAMB, IN EDMONTON + +Not here, O teeming City, was it meet + Thy lover, thy most faithful, should repose, + But where the multitudinous life-tide flows +Whose ocean-murmur was to him more sweet +Than melody of birds at morn, or bleat + Of flocks in Spring-time, _there_ should Earth enclose + His earth, amid thy thronging joys and woes, +There, 'neath the music of thy million feet. +In love of thee this lover knew no peer. + Thine eastern or thy western fane had made + Fit habitation for his noble shade. +Mother of mightier, nurse of none more dear, +Not here, in rustic exile, O not here, + Thy Elia like an alien should be laid! + + + +LINES IN A FLYLEAF OF "CHRISTABEL" + +Inhospitably hast thou entertained, +O Poet, us the bidden to thy board, +Whom in mid-feast, and while our thousand mouths +Are one laudation of the festal cheer, +Thou from thy table dost dismiss, unfilled. +Yet loudlier thee than many a lavish host +We praise, and oftener thy repast half-served +Than many a stintless banquet, prodigally +Through satiate hours prolonged; nor praise less well +Because with tongues thou hast not cloyed, and lips +That mourn the parsimony of affluent souls, +And mix the lamentation with the laud. + + + +LINES TO OUR NEW CENSOR + +[Mr. Oscar Wilde, having discovered that England is unworthy +of him, has announced his resolve to become a naturalised +Frenchman.] + +And wilt thou, Oscar, from us flee, + And must we, henceforth, wholly sever? +Shall thy laborious _jeux-d'esprit_ + Sadden our lives no more for ever? + +And all thy future wilt thou link + With that brave land to which thou goest? +Unhappy France! we _used_ to think + She touched, at Sedan, fortune's lowest. + +And you're made French as easily + As you might change the clothes you're wearing? +Fancy!--and 'tis so hard to be + A man of sense and modest bearing. + +May fortitude beneath this blow + Fail not the gallant Gallic nation! +By past experience, well we know + Her genius for recuperation. + +And as for us--to our disgrace, + Your stricture's truth must be conceded: +Would any but a stupid race + Have made the fuss about you _we_ did? + + + +RELUCTANT SUMMER + +Reluctant Summer! once, a maid + Full easy of access, +In many a bee-frequented shade + Thou didst thy lover bless. +Divinely unreproved I played, + Then, with each liberal tress-- +And art thou grown at last afraid + Of some too close caress? + +Or deem'st that if thou shouldst abide + My passion might decay? +Thou leav'st me pining and denied, + Coyly thou say'st me nay. +Ev'n as I woo thee to my side, + Thou, importuned to stay, +Like Orpheus' half-recovered bride + Ebb'st from my arms away. + + + +THE GREAT MISGIVING + +"Not ours," say some, "the thought of death to dread; + Asking no heaven, we fear no fabled hell: +Life is a feast, and we have banqueted-- + Shall not the worms as well? + +"The after-silence, when the feast is o'er, + And void the places where the minstrels stood, +Differs in nought from what hath been before, + And is nor ill nor good." + +Ah, but the Apparition--the dumb sign-- + The beckoning finger bidding me forego +The fellowship, the converse, and the wine, + The songs, the festal glow! + +And ah, to know not, while with friends I sit, + And while the purple joy is passed about, +Whether 'tis ampler day divinelier lit + Or homeless night without; + +And whether, stepping forth, my soul shall see + New prospects, or fall sheer--a blinded thing! +_There_ is, O grave, thy hourly victory, + And there, O death, thy sting. + + + +"THE THINGS THAT ARE MORE EXCELLENT" + +As we wax older on this earth, + Till many a toy that charmed us seems +Emptied of beauty, stripped of worth, + And mean as dust and dead as dreams,-- +For gauds that perished, shows that passed, + Some recompense the Fates have sent: +Thrice lovelier shine the things that last, + The things that are more excellent. + +Tired of the Senate's barren brawl, + An hour with silence we prefer, +Where statelier rise the woods than all + Yon towers of talk at Westminster. +Let this man prate and that man plot, + On fame or place or title bent: +The votes of veering crowds are not + The things that are more excellent. + +Shall we perturb and vex our soul + For "wrongs" which no true freedom mar, +Which no man's upright walk control, + And from no guiltless deed debar? +What odds though tonguesters heal, or leave + Unhealed, the grievance they invent? +To things, not phantoms, let us cleave-- + The things that are more excellent. + +Nought nobler is, than to be free: + The stars of heaven are free because +In amplitude of liberty + Their joy is to obey the laws. +From servitude to freedom's _name_ + Free thou thy mind in bondage pent; +Depose the fetich, and proclaim + The things that are more excellent. + +And in appropriate dust be hurled + That dull, punctilious god, whom they +That call their tiny clan the world, + Serve and obsequiously obey: +Who con their ritual of Routine, + With minds to one dead likeness blent, +And never ev'n in dreams have seen + The things that are more excellent. + +To dress, to call, to dine, to break + No canon of the social code, +The little laws that lacqueys make, + The futile decalogue of Mode,-- +How many a soul for these things lives, + With pious passion, grave intent! +While Nature careless-handed gives + The things that are more excellent. + +To hug the wealth ye cannot use, + And lack the riches all may gain,-- +O blind and wanting wit to choose, + Who house the chaff and burn the grain! +And still doth life with starry towers + Lure to the bright, divine ascent!-- +Be yours the things ye would: be ours + The things that are more excellent. + +The grace of friendship--mind and heart + Linked with their fellow heart and mind; +The gains of science, gifts of art; + The sense of oneness with our kind; +The thirst to know and understand-- + A large and liberal discontent: +These are the goods in life's rich hand, + The things that are more excellent. + +In faultless rhythm the ocean rolls, + A rapturous silence thrills the skies; +And on this earth are lovely souls, + That softly look with aidful eyes. +Though dark, O God, Thy course and track, + I think Thou must at least have meant +That nought which lives should wholly lack + The things that are more excellent. + + + +BEAUTY'S METEMPSYCHOSIS + + That beauty such as thine + Can die indeed, +Were ordinance too wantonly malign: +No wit may reconcile so cold a creed + With beauty such as thine. + + From wave and star and flower + Some effluence rare +Was lent thee, a divine but transient dower: +Thou yield'st it back from eyes and lips and hair + To wave and star and flower. + + Shouldst thou to-morrow die, + Thou still shalt be +Found in the rose and met in all the sky: +And from the ocean's heart shalt sing to me, + Shouldst thou to-morrow die. + + + +ENGLAND MY MOTHER + +I + +England my mother, +Wardress of waters. +Builder of peoples, + Maker of men,-- + +Hast thou yet leisure +Left for the muses? +Heed'st thou the songsmith + Forging the rhyme? + +Deafened with tumults, +How canst thou hearken? +Strident is faction, + Demos is loud. + +Lazarus, hungry, +Menaces Dives; +Labour the giant + Chafes in his hold. + +Yet do the songsmiths +Quit not their forges; +Still on life's anvil + Forge they the rhyme. + +Still the rapt faces +Glow from the furnace: +Breath of the smithy + Scorches their brows. + +Yea, and thou hear'st them? +So shall the hammers +Fashion not vainly + Verses of gold. + + +II + +Lo, with the ancient +Roots of man's nature, +Twines the eternal + Passion of song. + +Ever Love fans it, +Ever Life feeds it, +Time cannot age it; + Death cannot slay. + +Deep in the world-heart +Stand its foundations, +Tangled with all things, + Twin-made with all. + +Nay, what is Nature's +Self, but an endless +Strife toward music, + Euphony, rhyme? + +Trees in their blooming, +Tides in their flowing, +Stars in their circling, + Tremble with song. + +God on His throne is +Eldest of poets: +Unto His measures + Moveth the Whole. + + +III + +Therefore deride not +Speech of the muses, +England my mother, + Maker of men. + +Nations are mortal, +Fragile is greatness; +Fortune may fly thee, + Song shall not fly. + +Song the all-girdling, +Song cannot perish: +Men shall make music, + Man shall give ear. + +Not while the choric +Chant of creation +Floweth from all things, + Poured without pause, + +Cease we to echo +Faintly the descant +Whereto for ever + Dances the world. + + +IV + +So let the songsmith +Proffer his rhyme-gift, +England my mother, + Maker of men. + +Gray grows thy count'nance, +Full of the ages; +Time on thy forehead + Sits like a dream: + +Song is the potion +All things renewing, +Youth's one elixir, + Fountain of morn. + +Thou, at the world-loom +Weaving thy future, +Fitly may'st temper + Toil with delight. + +Deemest thou, labour +Only is earnest? +Grave is all beauty, + Solemn is joy. + +Song is no bauble-- +Slight not the songsmith, +England my mother, + Maker of men. + + + +NIGHT + +In the night, in the night, +When thou liest alone, +Ah, the sounds that are blown + In the freaks of the breeze, +By the spirit that sends +The voice of far friends + With the sigh of the seas + In the night! + +In the night, in the night, +When thou liest alone, +Ah, the ghosts that make moan + From the days that are sped: +The old dreams, the old deeds, +The old wound that still bleeds, + And the face of the dead + In the night! + +In the night, in the night, +When thou liest alone, +With the grass and the stone + O'er thy chamber so deep, +Ah, the silence at last, +Life's dissonance past, + And only pure sleep + In the night! + + + +THE FUGITIVE IDEAL + +As some most pure and noble face, + Seen in the thronged and hurrying street, +Sheds o'er the world a sudden grace, + A flying odour sweet, +Then, passing, leaves the cheated sense +Baulked with a phantom excellence; + +So, on our soul the visions rise + Of that fair life we never led: +They flash a splendour past our eyes, + We start, and they are fled: +They pass, and leave us with blank gaze, +Resigned to our ignoble days. + + + +"THE FORESTERS" + +(Lines written on the appearance of Lord Tennyson's drama.) + +Clear as of old the great voice rings to-day, +While Sherwood's oak-leaves twine with Aldworth's bay: +The voice of him the master and the sire +Of one whole age and legion of the lyre, +Who sang his morning-song when Coleridge still +Uttered dark oracles from Highgate Hill, +And with new-launched argosies of rhyme +Gilds and makes brave this sombreing tide of time. +Far be the hour when lesser brows shall wear +The laurel glorious from that wintry hair-- +When he, the sovereign of our lyric day, +In Charon's shallop must be rowed away, +And hear, scarce heeding, 'mid the plash of oar, +The _ave atque vale_ from the shore! + +To him nor tender nor heroic muse +Did her divine confederacy refuse: +To all its moods the lyre of life he strung, +And notes of death fell deathless from his tongue. +Himself the Merlin of his magic strain, +He bade old glories break in gloom again; +And so exempted from oblivious doom, +Through him these days shall fadeless break in bloom. + + + +SONG + +Lightly we met in the morn, + Lightly we parted at eve. +There was never a thought of the thorn + The rose of a day might leave. + +Fate's finger we did not perceive, + So lightly we met in the morn! +So lightly we parted at eve + We knew not that Love was born. + +I rose on the morrow forlorn, + To pine and remember and grieve. +Too lightly we met in the morn! + Too lightly we parted at eve! + + + +COLUMBUS + +(12TH OCTOBER 1492) + +From his adventurous prime +He dreamed the dream sublime: + Over his wandering youth + It hung, a beckoning star. +At last the vision fled, +And left him in its stead + The scarce sublimer truth, + The world he found afar. + +The scattered isles that stand +Warding the mightier land + Yielded their maidenhood + To his imperious prow. +The mainland within call +Lay vast and virginal: + In its blue porch he stood: + No more did fate allow. + +No more! but ah, how much, +To be the first to touch + The veriest azure hem + Of that majestic robe! +Lord of the lordly sea, +Earth's mightiest sailor he: + Great Captain among them, + The captors of the globe. + +When shall the world forget +Thy glory and our debt, + Indomitable soul, + Immortal Genoese? +Not while the shrewd salt gale +Whines amid shroud and sail, + Above the rhythmic roll + And thunder of the seas. + + + +THE PRINCE'S QUEST +AND OTHER POEMS + + + +THE PRINCE'S QUEST + +PART THE FIRST + + There was a time, it passeth me to say +How long ago, but sure 'twas many a day +Before the world had gotten her such store +Of foolish wisdom as she hath,--before +She fell to waxing gray with weight of years +And knowledge, bitter knowledge, bought with tears,-- +When it did seem as if the feet of time +Moved to the music of a golden rhyme, +And never one false thread might woven be +Athwart that web of worldwide melody. +'Twas then there lived a certain queen and king, +Unvext of wars or other evil thing, +Within a spacious palace builded high, +Whence they might see their chiefest city lie +About them, and half hear from their tall towers +Its populous murmur through the daylight hours, +And see beyond its walls the pleasant plain. +One child they had, these blissful royal twain: +Of whom 'tis told--so more than fair was he-- +There lurked at whiles a something shadowy +Deep down within the fairness of his face; +As 'twere a hint of some not-earthly grace, +Making the royal stripling rather seem +The very dreaming offspring of a dream +Than human child of human ancestry: +And something strange-fantastical was he, +I doubt not. Howsoever he upgrew, +And after certain years to manhood drew +Nigh, so that all about his father's court, +Seeing his graciousness of princely port, +Rejoiced thereat; and many maidens' eyes +Look'd pleased upon his beauty, and the sighs +Of many told I know not what sweet tales. + + So, like to some fair ship with sunlit sails, +Glided his youth amid a stormless sea, +Till once by night there came mysteriously +A fateful wind, and o'er an unknown deep +Bore him perforce. It chanced that while in sleep +He lay, there came to him a strange dim dream. +'Twas like as he did float adown a stream, +In a lone boat that had nor sail nor oar +Yet seemed as it would glide for evermore, +Deep in the bosom of a sultry land +Fair with all fairness. Upon either hand +Were hills green-browed and mist-engarlanded, +And all about their feet were woods bespread, +Hoarding the cool and leafy silentness +In many an unsunned hollow and hid recess. +Nought of unbeauteous might be there espied; +But in the heart of the deep woods and wide, +And in the heart of all, was Mystery-- +A something more than outer eye might see, +A something more than ever ear might hear. +The very birds that came and sang anear +Did seem to syllable some faery tongue, +And, singing much, to hold yet more unsung. +And heard at whiles, with hollow wandering tone, +Far off, as by some aery huntsmen blown, +Faint-echoing horns, among the mountains wound, +Made all the live air tremulous with sound. + + So hour by hour (thus ran the Prince's dream) +Glided the boat along the broadening stream; +Till, being widowed of the sun her lord, +The purblind day went groping evenward: +Whereafter Sleep compelled to his mild yoke +The bubbling clear souls of the feathered folk, +Sealing the vital fountains of their song. +Howbeit the Prince went onward all night long +And never shade of languor came on him, +Nor any weariness his eyes made dim. +And so in season due he heard the breath +Of the brief winds that wake ere darkness' death +Sigh through the woods and all the valley wide: +The rushes by the water answering sighed: +Sighed all the river from its reedy throat. +And like a winged creature went the boat, +Over the errant water wandering free, +As some lone seabird over a lone sea. + + And Morn pale-haired with watery wide eyes +Look'd up. And starting with a swift surprise, +Sprang to his feet the Prince, and forward leant, +His gaze on something right before him bent +That like a towered and templed city showed, +Afar off, dim with very light, and glowed +As burnished seas at sundawn when the waves +Make amber lightnings all in dim-roof'd caves +That fling mock-thunder back. Long leagues away, +Down by the river's green right bank it lay, +Set like a jewel in the golden morn: +But ever as the Prince was onward borne, +Nearer and nearer danced the dizzy fires +Of domes innumerable and sun-tipt spires +And many a sky-acquainted pinnacle, +Splendid beyond what mortal tongue may tell; +And ere the middle heat of day was spent, +He saw, by nearness thrice-magnificent, +Hardly a furlong's space before him lie +The City, sloping to the stream thereby. + + And therewithal the boat of its own will +Close to the shore began to glide, until, +All of a sudden passing nigh to where +The glistering white feet of a marble stair +Ran to the rippled brink, the Prince outsprang +Upon the gleamy steps, and wellnigh sang +For joy, to be once more upon his feet, +Amid the green grass and the flowers sweet. +So on he paced along the river-marge, +And saw full many a fair and stately barge, +Adorned with strange device and imagery, +At anchor in the quiet waters lie. +And presently he came unto a gate +Of massy gold, that shone with splendid state +Of mystic hieroglyphs, and storied frieze +All overwrought with carven phantasies. +And in the shadow of the golden gate, +One in the habit of a porter sate, +And on the Prince with wondering eye looked he, +And greeted him with reverent courtesy, +Saying, "Fair sir, thou art of mortal race, +The first hath ever journeyed to this place,-- +For well I know thou art a stranger here, +As by the garb thou wearest doth appear; +And if thy raiment do belie thee not, +Thou should'st be some king's son. And well I wot, +If that be true was prophesied of yore, +A wondrous fortune is for thee in store; +For though I be not read in Doomful Writ, +Oft have I heard the wise expounding it, +And, of a truth, the fatal rolls declare +_That the first mortal who shall hither fare +Shall surely have our Maiden-Queen to wife, +And while the world lives shall they twain have life. _" + + Hereat, be sure, the wonder-stricken youth, +Holden in doubt if this were lies or truth, +Was tongue-tied with amaze, and sore perplext, +Unknowing what strange thing might chance him next, +And ere he found fit words to make reply, +The porter bade a youth who stood hard by +Conduct the princely stranger, as was meet, +Through the great golden gate into the street, +And thence o'er all the city, wheresoe'er +Was aught to show of wonderful or fair. + + With that the Prince, beside his willing guide, +Went straightway through the gate, and stood inside +The wall, that, builded of a rare white stone, +Clasp'd all the city like a silver zone. +And thence down many a shining street they passed, +Each one appearing goodlier than the last, +Cool with the presence of innumerous trees +And fountains playing before palaces. +And whichsoever way the Prince might look, +Another marvel, and another, took +His wildered eyes with very wonderment. +And holding talk together as they went, +The Prince besought his guide to tell him why +Of all the many folk that passed them by +There was not one that had the looks of eld, +Or yet of life's mid-years; for they beheld +Only young men and maidens everywhere, +Nor ever saw they one that was not fair. +Whereat the stripling: "Master, thou hast seen, +Belike, the river that doth flow between +Flowers and grasses at the city's feet?" +And when the Prince had rendered answer meet, +"Then," said the other, "know that whosoe'er +Drinks of the water thou beheldest there +(It matters not how many are his years) +Thenceforward from that moment he appears +Like as he was in youthly days, before +His passed summers told beyond a score: +And so the people of this land possess +Unto all time their youth and comeliness." + + Scarce had his mouth made answer when there rose +Somewhat of tumult, ruffling the repose +Of the wide splendid street; and lifting up +His eyes, the Prince beheld a glittering troop +Of horsemen, each upon a beauteous steed, +Toward them coming at a gentle speed. +And as the cavalcade came on apace, +A sudden pleasure lit the stripling's face +Who bore him company and was his guide; +And "Lo, thou shalt behold our queen," he cried,-- +"Even the fairest of the many fair; +With whom was never maiden might compare +For very loveliness!" While yet he spake, +On all the air a silver sound 'gan break +Of jubilant and many-tongued acclaim, +And in a shining car the bright queen came, +And looking forth upon the multitude +Her eyes beheld the stranger where he stood, +And round about him was the loyal stir: +And all his soul went out in love to her. + + But even while her gaze met his, behold, +The city and its marvels manifold +Seemed suddenly removed far off, and placed +Somewhere in Twilight; and withal a waste +Of sudden waters lay like time between; +And over all that space he heard the queen +Calling unto him from her chariot; +And then came darkness. And the Dream was not. + + +PART THE SECOND + + A fearful and a lovely thing is Sleep, +And mighty store of secrets hath in keep; +And those there were of old who well could guess +What meant his fearfulness and loveliness, +And all his many shapes of life and death, +And all the secret things he uttereth. +But Wisdom lacketh sons like those that were, +And Sleep hath never an interpreter: +So there be none that know to read aright +The riddles he propoundeth every night. + + And verily, of all the wondrous things +By potence wrought of mortal visionings +In that dark house whereof Sleep hath the keys-- +Of suchlike miracles and mysteries +Not least, meseems, is this among them all: +That one in dream enamoured should fall, +And ever afterward, in waking thought, +Worship the phantom which the dream hath brought. +Howbeit such things have been, and in such wise +Did that king's son behold, with mortal eyes, +A more than mortal loveliness, and thus +Was stricken through with love miraculous. + + For evermore thereafter he did seem +To see that royal maiden of his dream +Unto her palace riding sovranly; +And much he marvelled where that land might be +That basking lay beneath her beauty's beams, +Well knowing in his heart that suchlike dreams +Come not in idleness but evermore +Are Fate's veiled heralds that do fly before +Their mighty master as he journeyeth, +And sing strange songs of life and love and death. +And so he did scarce aught but dream all day +Of that far land revealed of sleep, that lay +He knew not where; and musing more and more +On her the mistress of that unknown shore, +There fell a sadness on him, thus to be +Vext with desire of her he might not see +Yet could not choose but long for; till erewhile +Nor man nor woman might behold the smile +Make sudden morning of his countenance, +But likest one he seemed half-sunk, in trance, +That wanders groping in a shadowy land, +Hearing strange things that none can understand. +Now after many days and nights had passed, +The queen, his mother well-beloved, at last, +Being sad at heart because his heart was sad, +Would e'en be told what hidden cause he had +To be cast down in so mysterious wise: +And he, beholding by her tearful eyes +How of his grief she was compassionate, +No more a secret made thereof, but straight +Discovered to her all about his dream-- +The mystic happy marvel of the stream. +A fountain running Youth to all the land; +Flowing with deep dim woods on either hand +Where through the boughs did birds of strange song flit: +And all beside the bloomy banks of it +The city with its towers and domes far-seen. +And then he told her how that city's queen +Did pass before him like a breathing flower, +That he had loved her image from that hour. +"And sure am I," upspake the Prince at last, +"That somewhere in this world so wide and vast +Lieth the land mine eyes have inly seen;-- +Perhaps in very truth my spirit hath been +Translated thither, and in very truth +Hath seen the brightness of that city of youth. +Who knows?--for I have heard a wise man say +How that in sleep the souls of mortals may, +At certain seasons which the stars decree, +From bondage of the body be set free +To visit farthest countries, and be borne +Back to their fleshly houses ere the morn." + + At this the good queen, greatly marvelling, +Made haste to tell the story to the king; +Who hearing laughed her tale to scorn. But when +Weeks followed one another, and all men +About his person had begun to say +"What ails our Prince? He groweth day by day +Less like the Prince we knew ... wan cheeks, and eyes +Hollow for lack of sleep, and secret sighs.... +Some hidden grief the youth must surely have,"-- +Then like his queen the king himself wox grave; +And thus it chanced one summer eventide, +They sitting in an arbour side by side, +All unawares the Pince passed by that way, +And as he passed, unmark'd of either--they +Nought heeding but their own discourse--could hear +Amidst thereof his own name uttered clear, +And straight was 'ware it was the queen who spake, +And spake of him; whereat the king 'gan make +Answer in this wise, somewhat angerly: +"The youth is crazed, and but one remedy +Know I, to cure such madness--he shall wed +Some princess; ere another day be sped, +Myself will bid this dreamer go prepare +To take whom I shall choose to wife; some fair +And highborn maiden, worthy to be queen +Hereafter."--So the Prince, albeit unseen, +Heard, and his soul rebelled against the thing +His sire had willed; and slowly wandering +About the darkling pleasance--all amid +A maze of intertangled walks, or hid +In cedarn glooms, or where mysterious bowers +Were heavy with the breath of drowsed flowers-- +Something, he knew not what, within his heart +Rose like a faint-heard voice and said "Depart +From hence and follow where thy dream shall lead." +And fain would he have followed it indeed, +But wist not whither it would have him go. + + Howbeit, while yet he wandered to and fro, +Among his thoughts a chance remembrance leapt +All sudden--like a seed, that long hath slept +In earth, upspringing as a flower at last, +When he that sowed forgetteth where 'twas cast; +A chance remembrance of the tales men told +Concerning one whose wisdom manifold +Made all the world to wonder and revere-- +A mighty mage and learn'd astrologer +Who dwelt in honour at a great king's court +In a far country, whither did resort +Pilgrims innumerable from many lands, +Who crossed the wide seas and the desert sands +To learn of him the occult significance +Of some perplexing omen, or perchance +To hear forewhisperings of their destiny +And know what things in aftertime should be. +"Now surely," thought the Prince, "this subtile seer, +To whom the darkest things belike are clear, +Could read the riddle of my dream and tell +Where lieth that strange land delectable +Wherein mine empress hath her dwelling-place. +So might I look at last upon her face, +And make an end of all these weary sighs, +And melt into the shadow of her eyes!" +Thus musing, for a little space he stood +As holden to the spot; and evil, good, +Life, death, and earth beneath and heaven above, +Shrank up to less than shadows,--only Love, +With harpings of an hundred harps unseen, +Filled all the emptiness where these had been. + + But soon, like one that hath a sudden thought, +He lifted up his eyes, and turning sought +The halls once more where he was bred, and passed +Through court and corridor, and reached at last +His chamber, in a world of glimmer and gloom. +Here, while the moonrays filled the wide rich room, +The Prince in haste put off his courtly dress +For raiment of a lesser sumptuousness +(A sober habit such as might disguise +His royal rank in any stranger's eyes) +And taking in his hand three gems that made +Three several splendours in the moonlight, laid +These in his bosom, where no eye might see +The triple radiance; then all noiselessly +Down the wide stair from creaking floor to floor +Passed, and went out from the great palace-door. + + Crossing the spacious breadth of garden ground, +Wherein his footfalls were the only sound +Save the wind's wooing of the tremulous trees, +Forth of that region of imperial ease +He fared, amid the doubtful shadows dim, +No eye in all the place beholding him; +No eye, save only of the warders, who +Opened the gates that he might pass therethrough. + + And now to the safe-keeping of the night +Intrusted he the knowledge of his flight; +And quitting all the purlieus of the court, +Out from the city by a secret port +Went, and along the moonlit highway sped. +And himself spake unto himself and said +(Heard only of the silence in his heart) +"Tarry thou here no longer, but depart +Unto the land of the Great Mage; and seek +The Mage; and whatsoever he shall speak, +Give ear to that he saith, and reverent heed; +And wheresoever he may bid thee speed, +Thitherward thou shalt set thy face and go. +For surely one of so great lore must know +Where lies the land thou sawest in thy dream: +Nay, if he know not that,--why, then I deem +The wisdom of exceeding little worth +That reads the heavens but cannot read the earth." + + +PART THE THIRD + + So without rest or tarriance all that night, +Until the world was blear with coming light, +Forth fared the princely fugitive, nor stayed +His wearied feet till morn returning made +Some village all a-hum with wakeful stir; +And from that place the royal wayfarer +Went ever faster on and yet more fast, +Till, ere the noontide sultriness was past, +Upon his ear the burden of the seas +Came dreamlike, heard upon a cool fresh breeze +That tempered gratefully a fervent sky. +And many an hour ere sundown he drew nigh +A fair-built seaport, warder of the land +And watcher of the wave, with odours fanned +Of green fields and of blue from either side;-- +A pleasant place, wherein he might abide, +Unknown of man or woman, till such time +As any ship should sail to that far clime +Where lived the famous great astrologer. + + Entered within its gates, a wanderer +Besoiled with dust and no-wise richly drest, +Yet therewithal a prince and princeliest +Of princes, with the press of motley folk +He mixed unheeded and unknown, nor spoke +To any, no man speaking unto him, +But, being wearied sore in every limb, +Sought out a goodly hostel where he might +Rest him and eat and tarry for the night: +And having eaten he arose and passed +Down to the wharves where many a sail and mast +Showed fiery-dark against the setting sun: +There, holding talk with whom he chanced upon, +In that same hour by great good hap he found +The master of a vessel outward-bound +Upon the morrow for that selfsame port +Whither he sought to go (where dwelt at court +The mage deep-read in starry charact'ry). +An honest man and pleasant-tongued was he, +This worthy master-mariner; and since +He had no scorn of well-got gain, the Prince +Agreed to pay him certain sums in gold, +And go aboard his vessel, ere were told +Two hours of sunlight on the coming day; +And thus agreed they wended each his way, +For the dusk hour was nigh, and all the West +Lay emptied of its sun. But as he pressed +Up the long seaward-sloping street that ran +Through half the town, the Prince sought out a man +Who dealt in pearls and diamonds and all +Manner of stones which men do precious call; +To whom the least of his three gems he sold +For a great price, and laden with the gold +Forthwith returned unto his hostelry +And dreamed all night of seaports and the sea. + + Early the morrow-morn, a fair soft gale +Blowing from overland, the ship set sail +At turning of the tide; and from her deck +The Prince gazed till the town was but a speck, +And all the shore became a memory: +And still he gazed, though more he might not see +Than the wide waters and the great wide sky. +And many a long unchangeful day went by +Ere land was sighted, but at length uprose +A doubtful dusky something, toward the close +Of the last hour before one sultry noon: +Most like an isle of cloud it seemed, but soon +The sailors knew it for the wished strand, +And ere the evenfall they reached the land, +And that same night the royal wanderer lay +In a strange city, amid strange folk, till Day +Rose from the dim sea's lap and with his wings +Fanned into wakefulness all breathing things. + + Then he uprose, but going forth that morn +A sadness came upon him, and forlorn +He felt within himself, and nowise light +Of heart: for all his lonely travel might +Prove void and fruitless and of no avail, +(Thus pondered he) and should it wholly fail, +What then were left him for to do? Return +To his own country, that his kin might learn +To know him duped and fooled of fantasies, +Blown hither and thither by an idle breeze +From Dreamland? Or in lieu, perchance, of this, +Wander unresting, reft of hope and bliss, +A mariner on a sea that hath no coast, +Seeking a shade, himself a shade, and lost +In shadows, as a wave is lost i' the sea. + + Thus in a heart not lightsome pondered he, +And roamed from unfamiliar street to street, +Much marvelling that all he chanced to meet +Showed faces troubled as his own: for some +Did weep outright, and over all a gloom +Hung, as a cloud that blotteth out the sun. +Wherefore the Prince addressed him unto one +Of sadder visage even than the rest, +Who, ever as he walked, or beat his breast +Or groaned aloud or with his fingers rent +His robe, and, being besought to say what meant +This look of rue on all men's faces, cried +In loud amazement, "What, can any abide +Within this city, having ears to hear, +Yet know not how this morn the mighty seer +Hath died and left the land all desolate? +For now, when sudden ills befall the state, +There will be none to warn or prophesy +As he, but when calamities are nigh +No man will know till they be come and we +Be all undone together, woe is me!" + + Thus ended he his outcry and again +Passed on his way and mixed with other men +Scarce joyfuller than he, if less they spake. +Meanwhile upon the Prince's heart there brake +Grief like a bitter wind, beneath whose breath +Hope paled and sickened well-nigh unto death: +For lo, those dumb and formless fears that came +Within his heart that morn, and, like a flame +That flickers long and dimly ere it die, +Tarried and would not pass, but fitfully +Flickered and flared and paled and flared again,-- +Lo, those mysterious messengers of pain, +Dumb formless fears, were they not verified? +And lo, that voyage o'er the waters wide, +Was it not vain and a most empty thing? +And what might now the years avail to bring, +But hopes that barren live and barren die? + + Thus did his heart with many an inward sigh +Ask of itself, though answer there was none +To be returned: and so the day, begun +Tristfully, trailed an ever wearier wing; +Till toward night another questioning +Like a strange voice from far beset his soul: +And as a low wind wails for very dole +About a tarn whereof the listless wave +Maketh no answer to its plaining, save +A sound that seems the phantom of its own, +So that low voice making unbidden moan +No answer got, saving the many sighs +Its echoes; and in this reproachful wise, +Heaping new pain on him disconsolate, +The low voice spake and spake, importunate: +_O Prince that wast and wanderer that art, +Say doth love live within thy hidden heart +(Love born of dream but nurtured wakingly) +Ev'n as that Once when thy soul's eyes did see +Love's visible self, and worshipt? Or hast thou +Fall'n from thy faith in Her and Love ere now, +And is thy passion as a robe outworn? +Nay, love forbid! Yet wherefore art thou lorn +Of hope and peace if Love be still thine own? +For, were the wondrous vision thou hast known +Indeed Love's voice and Fate's (which are the same) +Then, even as surely as the vision came, +So surely shall it be fulfilled, if faith +Abide in thee; but if thy spirit saith +Treason of Love or Fate, and unbelief +House in thy heart, then surely shall swift grief +Find thee, and hope (that should be as a breath +Of song undying) shall even die the death, +And thou thyself the death-in-life shalt see, +O Prince that wast, O wanderer that shalt be!_ + + So spake the Voice. And in the pauses of +That secret Voice, there 'gan to wake and move, +Deep in his heart, a thing of blackest ill-- +The shapeless shadow men call Doubt, until +That hour all unacquainted with his soul: +And being tormented sore of this new dole, +There came on him a longing to explore +That sleep-discovered flowery land once more, +Isled in the dark of the soul; for he did deem +That were he once again to dream The Dream, +His faith new-stablished would stand, and be +No longer vext of this infirmity. +And so that night, ere lying down to sleep, +There came on him, half making him to weep +And half to laugh that such a thing should be, +A mad conceit and antic fantasy +(And yet more sad than merry was the whim) +To crave this boon of Sleep, beseeching him +To send the dream of dreams most coveted. +And ere he lay him down upon his bed, +A soft sweet song was born within his thought; +But if he sang the song, or if 'twas nought +But the soul's longing whispered to the soul, +Himself knew hardly, while the passion stole +From that still depth where passion lieth prone, +And voiced itself in this-like monotone: + +"O Sleep, thou hollow sea, thou soundless sea, +Dull-breaking on the shores of haunted lands, +Lo, I am thine: do what thou wilt with me. + +But while, as yet unbounden of thy bands, +I hear the breeze from inland chide and chafe +Along the margin of thy muttering sands, + +Somewhat I fain would crave, if thou vouchsafe +To hear mine asking, and to heed wilt deign. +Behold, I come to fling me as a waif + +Upon thy waters, O thou murmuring main! +So on some wasteful island cast not me, +Where phantom winds to phantom skies complain, + +And creeping terrors crawl from out the sea, +(For such thou hast)--but o'er thy waves not cold +Bear me to yonder land once more, where She + +Sits throned amidst of magic wealth untold: +Golden her palace, golden all her hair, +Golden her city 'neath a heaven of gold! + +So may I see in dreams her tresses fair +Down-falling, as a wave of sunlight rests +On some white cloud, about her shoulders bare, +Nigh to the snowdrifts twain which are her breasts." + + So ran the song,--say rather, so did creep, +With drowsy faltering feet unsure, till Sleep +Himself made end of it, with no rude touch +Sealing the lips that babbled overmuch. +Howbeit the boon of boons most coveted +Withholden was, and in that vision's stead +Another Dream from its dim hold uprose, +Which he who tells the tale shall straight disclose. + + +PART THE FOURTH + + That night he dreamed that over him there stole +A change miraculous, whereby his soul +Was parted from his body for a space, +And through a labyrinth of secret ways +Entered the world where dead men's ghosts abide +To seek the Seer who yestermorn had died. +And there in very truth he found the Seer, +Who gazing on him said, "What would'st thou here, +O royal-born, who visitest the coasts +Of darkness, and the dwellings of the ghosts?" + + Then said the Prince, "I fain would know to find +The land as yet untrod of mortal-kind +Which I beheld by gracious leave of Sleep." +To whom the Spirit: "O Prince, the seas are deep +And very wide betwixt thee and that land, +And who shall say how many days do stand, +As dim-seen armed hosts between thy bliss +And thee?--Moreover, in the world there is +A certain Emerald Stone which some do call +The Emerald of the Virtues Mystical; +(Though what those Virtues Mystical may be +None living knows) and since, O youth, to me +Thou dost apply for counsel, be it known +Except thou have this wondrous emerald stone, +Go seek through all the world, thou shalt not find +The land thou wouldst: but like the houseless wind +That roams the world to seek a resting-place, +Thou through inhospitable time and space +Shalt roam, till time and space deliver thee, +To spaceless, timeless, mute eternity. + + "For in a certain land there once did dwell +(How long ago it needs not I should tell) +At the king's court a great astrologer, +Ev'n such as erst was I, but mightier +And far excelling; and it came to pass +That he fell sick; and very old he was; +And knowing that his end was nigh, he said +To him that sat in sorrow by his bed, +'O master well-beloved and matchless king, +Take thou and keep this lowly offering +In memory of thy servant;' whereupon +The king perceived it was a gem that shone +Like the sea's heart: and on one side of it +This legend in an unknown tongue was writ-- +_Who holdeth Me may go where none hath fared +Before, and none shall follow afterward._ +So the king took the bright green stone betwixt +His fingers, and upon the legend fixed +His eyes, and said unto the dying Seer, +'Now who shall render this dark scripture clear +That I may know the meaning of the gift?' +And the mage oped his mouth and strove to lift +His voice, but could not, for the wished word +Clave to his rattling throat, that no man heard: +Whereby the soul, departing, bore away +From all men living, even to this day, +The secret. And the jewel hath passed down +Seven times from sire to son, and in the crown +It shineth of that country's kings, being called +Ev'n to this day the mystic emerald; +But no man liveth in the world, of wit +To read the writing that is on it writ." + + "O Master," said the Prince, "and wilt not thou +Instruct me where to find the king who now +Weareth the jewel in his diadem?" +To whom the Spirit, "O youth, and if the gem +Be worth the finding, is't not also worth +The little pain of seeking through the earth?-- +Yet so thou may'st not wander witlessly, +Look thou forget not this I tell to thee: +When in thy journeyings thou shalt dream once more +The fateful dream thou haddest heretofore, +That filled thy veins with longing as with wine, +Till all thy being brimm'd over--by that sign +Thou mayest know thyself at last to be +Within the borders of his empery +Who hath the mystic emerald stone, whose gleam +Shall light thee to the country of thy dream." + + "But," said the Prince, "When all the world's highways +My feet have trod, till after length of days +I reach the land where lies the wondrous stone, +How shall I make so rare a, thing mine own? +For had I riches more than could be told, +What king would sell his jewels for my gold?" +And on this wise the answer of the Seer +Fell in the hollow of his dreaming ear: +"Behold this Iron Chain,--of power it is +To heal all manner of mortal maladies +In him that wears it round his neck but once, +Between the sun's downgoing and the sun's +Uprising: take it thou, and hold it fast +Until by seeking long thou find at last +The king that hath the mystic emerald stone: +And having found him, thou shalt e'en make known +The virtues lodged within this charmed chain: +Which when the king doth hear he will be fain +To have possession of so strange a thing; +And thou shalt make a bargain with the king +To give the Iron Chain in bartery +For that mysterious jewel whereof he +Knows not the secret worth. And when at last +The emerald stone in thy own hands thou hast, +Itself shall guide thee whither thou would'st go-- +Ev'n to the land revealed of sleep, where no +Grief comes to mar their music, neither sound +Of sighing, while the golden years go round." + + So spake the Spirit unto him that dreamed, +And suddenly that world of shadow seemed +More shadowy; and all things began to blend +Together: and the dream was at an end. + + Then slept the Prince a deep sweet sleep that knew +Nor dream nor vision; till the dawnlight grew +Up, and his soul a sudden halt did make +About the confines dim of sleep and wake, +Where wandering lights and wildered shadows meet. +But presently uprising to his feet +From tarriance in that frontier-region dim, +Exceeding wonderment laid hold on him; +For even while from off his bed he rose, +He heard a clinking as of metal, close +Thereby, and could in no-wise understand: +And lo the Iron Chain was in his hand! + + +PART THE FIFTH + + So, being risen, the Prince in brief while went +Forth to the market-place, where babblement +Of them that bought and them that sold was one +Of many sounds in murmurous union-- +buzzing as of bees about their hives, +With shriller gossiping of garrulous wives +Piping a tuneless treble thereunto: +In midst whereof he went his way as who +Looketh about him well before he buys, +To mark the manner of their merchandise; +Till chancing upon one who cried for sale +A horse, and seeing it well-limb'd and hale, +And therewithal right goodly to behold, +He bought the beast and paid the man in gold, +And having gotten him the needful gear +Rode from the market, nothing loth to hear +Its garrulous wives no longer, and the din +Of them that daily bought and sold therein. +So from the place he passed, and slowly down +Street after street betook him till the town +Behind him and the gates before him were, +And all without was cornland greenly fair. + + And through the cornland wending many a mile, +And through the meadowland, he came erewhile +To where the highways parted, and no man +Was nigh to tell him whitherward they ran; +But while he halted all in doubtful mood, +An eagle, as if mourning for her brood +Stolen, above him sped with rueful cry; +And when that he perceived the fowl to fly +Plaining aloud, unto himself he said, +"Now shall yon mournful mother overhead +Instruct the wandering of my feet, and they +Shall follow where she leadeth:" and away +The bird went winging westward clamorously, +That westward even in her wake went he. +And it may be that in his heart there stirred +Some feeling as of fellowship with the bird; +For he, like her, was bound on a lone quest; +And for his feet, as for her wings, no rest +Might be, but only urgence of desire, +And one far goal that seemed not ever nigher. + + So through that country wended he his way, +Resting anights, till on the seventh day +He passed unwares into another land, +Whose people's speech he could not understand-- +A tract o'er-run with tribes barbarian, +And blood-red from the strife of man with man: +And truly 'twas a thing miraculous +That one should traverse all that rude land thus, +And no man rid him of his gold, nor raise +A hand to make abridgment of his days; +But there was that about him could make men's +Hearts, ere they knew it, yield him reverence,-- +Perchance a sovran something in his eye, +Whereat the fierce heart failed, it wist not why;-- +Perchance that Fate which (hovering like a doubt +Athwart his being) hemmed him round about, +Gloomed as a visible shadow across his way, +And made men fearful. Be this as it may, +No harm befell him in that land, and so +He came at last to where the ebb and flow +Of other seas than he had wandered o'er +Upflung to landward an attempered roar; +And wandering downward to the beach, he clomb +To topmost of a tall grey cliff, wherefrom +He saw a smoke as of men's houses, far +Off, from a jutting point peninsular +Uprising: whence he deemed that there a town +Must surely be. And so he clambered down +The cliff, and getting him again to horse +Thither along the seabound held his course, +And reached that city about sunset-tide +The smoking of whose hearths he had espied. + + There at an hostel rested he, and there +Tarried the coming of the morn. But ere +He fell asleep that night, a wandering thought, +Through darkling byeways of the spirit brought, +Knock'd at his soul for entrance, whispering low +"What if to-night thou dream The Dream, and know +To-morrow, when thou wakest from that bliss, +The land wherein thou liest to be his +Who hath the mystic jewel in his keep?" +So, full of flattering hope he fell asleep, +And sleeping dreamed, but dreamed not that he would: +For at one time it seemed as if he stood +Alone upon a sterile neck of land, +Where round about him upon either hand +Was darkness, and the cry of a dark sea, +And worldwide vapours glooming thunderously; +And ever as he stood, the unstable ground +Slid from beneath his feet with a great sound, +Till he could find no foothold anywhere +That seemed not unsubstantial as the air. +At otherwhiles he wandered all alone +About a lonely land, and heard a moan +As of some bird that sang and singing grieved; +And peering all about the woods thick-leaved +If so he might espy the bird, he found +At length, after long searching, that the sound +Even from the bottom of his own heart came, +And unawares his own mouth sang the same. +And then in dream 'twas like as years went by, +And still he journeyed, hardly knowing why, +Till at the last a mist about him fell, +And if the mist were death he could not tell, +For after that he knew no more. And so +He slept until the cock began to crow. + + Then came the gladful morn, that sendeth sick +Dreams flying, and all shapes melancholic +That vex the slumbers of the love-distraught. +Unto his heart the merry morning brought +Cheer, and forewhisperings of some far-off rest, +When he should end in sweet that bitter quest. +But going forth that morn, and with his feet +Threading the murmurous maze of street and street, +All strangely fell upon him everywhere +The things he saw and heard of foul or fair. +The thronging of the folk that filled the ways; +The hubbub of the street and market-place; +The sound of heavy wain-wheels on the stones; +The comely faces and ill-favoured ones; +The girls with apple-cheeks and hair of gold; +The grey locks and the wrinkles of the old;-- +All these remote and unfamiliar +Seem'd, and himself a something from afar, +Looking at men as shadows on the wall +And even the veriest shadow among them all. + + But now when all things dreamwise seemed to swim +About the dubious eyes and ears of him, +That nothing in the world might be believed, +It chanced that on a sudden he perceived +Where one that dealt in jewels sat within +His doorway, hearkening to the outer din, +As who cared no-wise to make fast his ears +Against the babble of the street-farers: +Whereat the merchant, seeing a stranger pass, +Guessed by his garb what countryman he was, +And giving him good-day right courteously +Bespake him in his mother-tongue; for he +Had wandered in his youth o'er distant seas +And knew full many lands and languages. +Wherefore with him the royal stranger fell +To talking cheerly, and besought him tell +Whence all his gems were had and costly things, +Talismans, amulets, and charmed rings: +Whereto the other answered, They had come +Some from a country not far hence, and some +From out a land a thousand leagues away +To eastward, ev'n the birthplace of the Day, +The region of the sun's nativity; +And giving ear to this right readily +The Prince would fain be told of him the way +To that far homeland of the youngling Day. +So, being ask'd, the other answered, "Sir, +There liveth but one master-mariner +Whose ship hath sailed so far: and that is he +Who hither brought the jewels thou dost see. +And now, as luck will have it for the nonce, +He wills to voyage thitherward but once +Before he die--for he is old like me-- +And even this day se'nnight saileth he. +Wherefore if thou be fain to see that land, +There needeth only gold within thy hand: +For gold, if that it jingle true and clear, +Hath still a merry music for man's ear, +And where is he that hateth sound of it?" +So saying, the merchant bade the stranger sit, +But the Prince thanked him for his courtesy, +And went his way. And that day se'nnight he +Was sailing toward the far-off morningland, +And felt the skies about him like a band, +And heard the low wind uttering numerous noise, +And all the great sea singing as one voice. + + +PART THE SIXTH + + Even as one voice the great sea sang. From out +The green heart of the waters round about, +Welled as a bubbling fountain silverly +The overflowing song of the great sea; +Until the Prince, by dint of listening long, +Divined the purport of that mystic song; +(For so do all things breathe articulate breath +Into his ears who rightly harkeneth) +And, if indeed he heard that harmony +Aright, in this wise came the song of the sea: + +"Behold all ye that stricken of love do lie, +Wherefore in manacles of a maiden's eye +Lead ye the life of bondmen and of slaves? +Lo in the caverns and the depths of Me +A thousand mermaids dwell beneath the waves: +A thousand maidens meet for love have I, +Ev'n I the virgin-hearted cold chaste sea. +Behold all ye that weary of life do lie, +There is no rest at all beneath the sky +Save in the nethermost deepness of the deep. +Only the silence and the midst of Me +Can still the sleepless soul that fain would sleep; +For such, a cool death and a sweet have I, +Ev'n I the crystal-hearted cool sweet sea. +Behold all ye that in my lap do lie, +To love is sweet and sweeter still to die, +And woe to him that laugheth me to scorn! +Lo in a little while the anger of Me +Shall make him mourn the day that he was born: +For in mine hour of wrath no ruth have I, +Ev'n I the tempest-hearted pitiless sea." + + So sang the waters, if indeed 'twere they +That sang unto the Prince's ears that day, +Since in the ship was not a soul besides +Could hear that burden of the voiceful tides; +For when he told the sailors of this thing, +And ev'n what words the waters seemed to sing, +They stared astonishment, and some, that had +More churlish souls than others, held him mad, +And laughed before his face outright. But when +The captain heard the gossip of his men +Touching this marvel, the strange news begot +No merry mood in him, who wist not what +Should be the meaning of the miracle, +Nor whether 'twere an omen good or ill. +Wherefore the old seafarer--having heard +The tale retold with many an afterword +The mariners' own most fruitful wit supplied +To grace the telling--took the Prince aside, +And ask'd him sundry questions privily +Concerning this same singing of the sea. +So the Prince told him all there was to tell, +And when that he had heard, the old man fell +To meditating much, and shook his head +As one exceeding ill at ease, and said, +"I doubt the singing thou hast heard was no +Voice of the waters billowing below, +But rather of some evil spirit near, +Who sought with singing to beguile thine ear, +Spreading a snare to catch the soul of thee +In meshes of entangling melody, +Which taketh captive the weak minds of men. +Therefore if thou should'st hear the sound again, +Look thou content thee not with hearkening, +But cast thine eyes around, and mark what thing +Thou seest, and let no man know but me." + + So spake the white-haired wanderer of the sea. +And on the morrow--when the sealine grew +O'erhazed with visible heat, and no wind blew, +And the half-stifled morning dropt aswoon +Into the panting bosom of the noon-- +There came into the Prince's ears anew +The song that yestermorn had hearkened to. +And lifting up his eyes in hope to see +What lips they were that made such melody +And filled him with the fulness of their sound, +He saw the sun at highest of his round +Show as a shield with one dark bloodstain blurred, +By reason of the body of some great bird +Like to an eagle, with wide wings outspread, +Athwart the sunfire hovering duskly red. +So to the master of the ship he told +What he had witnessed, bidding him behold +The marvel with his own eyes if he would; +Who, though he strained his vision all he could, +Yet might not once endure to look the sun +I' the face; and calling to him one by one +The whole ship's crew, he bade each mariner look +Sunward who could, but no man's eyes might brook +The glare upon them of the noontide rays +And lidless fervour of that golden gaze: +So none of them beheld the bodeful bird. + + Then said the greybeard captain, hardly heard +Amid the babble of voices great and small, +"The bird thou seest is no bird at all, +But some unholy spirit in guise of one; +And I do fear that we are all undone +If any amongst us hearken to its voice;-- +For of its mouth, I doubt not, was the noise +Thou heardest as of dulcet carolling, +When at thine ear the waters seemed to sing." + + And truly, many a wiser man than he +Herein had farther strayed from verity; +For that great bird that seemed to fan the sun's +Face with its wings was even the same as once +Flew screaming westward o'er the Prince's head, +Beguiling him to follow where it fled. +And bird it was not, but a spirit of ill, +Man-hating, and of mankind hated still, +And slave to one yet mightier demon-sprite +Whose dwelling is the shadow of the night. + + So the days passed, and always on the next +The bird-sprite like a baleful vision vexed +The happy-hearted sunlight; and each time +Its false sweet song was wedded to the rhyme +And chime of wind and wave--although it dropped +As honey changed to music--the Prince stopped +His ears, and would not hear; and so the Sprite, +Seeing his charmed songcraft of no might +Him to ensnare who hearkened not at all, +On the tenth day with dreadful noise let fall +A tempest shaken from the wings of him, +Whereat the eyes of heaven wox thunderous-dim, +Till the day-darkness blinded them, and fell +Holding the world in night unseasonable. +And from his beaked mouth the demon blew +A breath as of a hundred winds, and flew +Downward aswoop upon the labouring bark, +And, covered of the blear untimely Dark, +Clutch'd with his gripple claws the Prince his prey, +And backward through the tempest soared away, +Bearing that royal burden; and his eyes +Were wandering wells of lightning to the skies. + + Long time the Prince was held in swound, and knew +Nor outer world nor inner, as they flew +From darkness unto darkness; till at last-- +The fierce flight over, and his body cast +Somewhere alone in a strange place--the life +Stirred in him faintly, as at feeble strife +With covetous Death for ownership of him. +And 'fore his eyes the world began to swim +All vague, and doubtful as a dream that lies +Folded within another, petal-wise. +And therewithal himself but half believed +His own eyes' testimony, and perceived +The things that were about him as who hears +A distant music throbbing toward his ears +At noontide, in a flowery hollow of June, +And listens till he knows not if the tune +And he be one or twain, or near or far, +But only feels that sound and perfume are, +And tremulous light and leafy umbrage: so +The Prince beheld unknowing, nor fain to know. + + About him was a ruinous fair place, +Which Time, who still delighteth to abase +The highest, and throw down what men do build, +With splendid prideful barrenness had filled, +And dust of immemorial dreams, and breath +Of silence, which is next of kin to death. +A weedy wilderness it seemed, that was +In days forepast a garden, but the grass +Grew now where once the flowers, and hard by +A many-throated fountain had run dry +Which erst all day a web of rainbows wove +Out of the body of the sun its love. +And but a furlong's space beyond, there towered +In middest of that silent realm deflowered +A palace builded of black marble, whence +The shadow of a swart magnificence +Falling, upon the outer space begot +A dream of darkness when the night was not. +Which while the Prince beheld, a wonderment +Laid hold upon him, that he rose and went +Toward the palace-portico apace, +Thinking to read the riddle of the place. +And entering in (for open was the door) +From hall to hall he passed, from floor to floor, +Through all the spacious house, and (saving where +The subtile spider had his darksome lair) +No living creature could he find in it. +Howbeit, by certain writing that was writ +Upon the wall of one dark room and bare, +He guessed that some great sorcerer had there +Inhabited, a slave to his own lust +Of evil power and knowledge, till the dust +Received his dust, and darkness had his soul; +But ere death took him he had willed the whole +Of his possessions to a Spirit of Ill, +His sometime mate in commerce damnable, +Making him lord of that high house, wherein +The twain had sealed their covenant of sin. + + With that a horror smote the Prince, and fain +Would he have fled that evil spirit's domain +And shook its dust from off his feet that hour. +But from a window of the topmost tower +Viewing the dim-leaved wilderness without, +Full plainly he perceived it hemmed about +With waves, an island of the middle sea, +In watery barriers bound insuperably; +And human habitation saw he none, +Nor heard one bird a-singing in the sun +To lighten the intolerable stress +Of utter undisputed silentness. + + So by these signs he knew himself the thrall +Of that foul spirit unseen, and therewithal +Wholly unfellowed in captivity, +Bound round with fetters of the tyrannous sea. +And sick for very loneliness, he passed +Downward through galleries and chambers vast +To one wide hall wherefrom a vestibule +Opened into a dim green space and cool, +Where great trees grew that various fruitage bore +The like whereof he had not seen before, +And hard by was a well of water sweet; +And being anhungered he did pluck and eat +The strange fair fruit, and being athirst did drink +The water, and lay down beside the brink; +Till sleep, as one that droppeth from the skies, +Dropt down, and made a mist about his eyes. + + +PART THE SEVENTH + + But Sleep, who makes a mist about the sense, +Doth ope the eyelids of the soul, and thence +Lifteth a heavier cloud than that whereby +He veils the vision of the fleshly eye. +And not alone by dreams doth Sleep make known +The sealed things and covert--not alone +In _visions_ of the night do mortals hear +The fatal feet and whispering wings draw near; +But dimly and in darkness doth the soul +Drink of the streams of slumber as they roll, +And win fine secrets from their waters deep: +Yea, of a truth, the spirit doth grow in sleep. + + Howbeit I know not whether as he slept +A voice from out the depth of dream upleapt +And whispered in his ear; or whether he +Grew to the knowledge blindly, as a tree +Waxes from bloom to fruitage, knowing not +The manner of its growth: but this I wot, +That rising from that sleep beside the spring +The Prince had knowledge of a certain thing +Whereof he had not wist until that hour-- +To wit, that two contending spirits had power +Over _his_ spirit, ruling him with sway +Altern; as 'twere dominion now of Day +And now of Dark; for one was of the light, +And one was of the blackness of the night. + + Now there be certain evil spirits whom +The mother of the darkness in her womb +Conceived ere darkness' self; and one of these +Did rule that island of the middle seas +Hemmed round with silence and enchantment dim. +Nothing in all the world so pleasured him +As filling human hearts with dolorousness +And banning where another sprite did bless; +But chiefly did his malice take delight +In thwarting lovers' hopes and breathing blight +Into the blossoms newly-opened +Of sweet desire, till all of sweet were fled: +And (for he knew what secret hopes did fill +The minds of men) 'twas even now his will +To step between the Prince and his desire, +Nor suffer him to fare one furlong nigher +Unto that distant-shining golden goal +That beacon'd through the darkness to his soul. + + And so the days, the sultry summer days, +Went by, and wimpled over with fine haze +The noiseless nights stole after them, as steals +The moon-made shadow at some traveller's heels. +And day by day and night by night the Prince +Dwelt in that island of enchantment, since +The hour when Evil Hap, in likeness of +An eagle swooping from the clouds above, +Did bind him body and soul unto that place. +And in due time the summer waxed apace, +And in due time the summer waned: and now +The withered leaf had fallen from the bough, +And now the winter came and now the spring; +Yea, summer's self was toward on the wing +From wandering overseas: and all this while +The Prince abode in that enchanted isle, +Marvelling much at Fortune and her ways. + + And by degrees the slowly-sliding days +Gathered themselves together into years, +And oftentimes his spirit welled in tears +From dawn to darkness and from dark to dawn, +By reason of the light of life withdrawn. +And if the night brought sleep, a fitful sleep, +The phantoms of a buried time would creep +Out of their hollow hiding-places vast, +Peopling his Present from the wizard Past. +Sometimes between the whirl of dream and dream, +All in a doubtful middle-world, a gleam +Went shivering past him through the chill grey space, +And lo he knew it for his mother's face, +And wept; and all the silence where he stood +Wept with him. And at times the dreamer would +Dream himself back beneath his father's roof +At eventide, and there would hold aloof +In silence, clothed upon with shadows dim, +To hear if any spake concerning him; +But the hours came and went and went and came, +And no man's mouth did ever name his name. +And year by year he saw the queen and king +Wax older, and beheld a shadowy thing +Lurking behind them, till it came between +His dreamsight and the semblance of the queen, +From which time forth he saw her not: and when +Another year had been it came again, +And after that he saw his sire the king +No more, by reason of the shadowy thing +Stepping between; and all the place became +As darkness, and the echo of a name. + + * * * * * + + What need to loiter o'er the chronicle +Of days that brought no change? What boots it tell +The tale of hours whereof each moment was +As like its fellow as one blade of grass +Is to another, when the dew doth fall +Without respect of any amongst them all? +Enow that time in that enchanted air +Nor slept nor tarried more than otherwhere, +And so at last the captive lived to see +The fiftieth year of his captivity. +And on a day within that fiftieth year +He wandered down unto the beach, to hear +The breaking of the breakers on the shore, +As he had heard them ofttimes heretofore +In days when he would sit and watch the sea, +If peradventure there some ship might be. +But now his soul no longer yearned as then +To win her way back to the world of men: +For what could now his freedom profit him? +The hope that filled youth's beaker to its brim +The tremulous hand of age had long outspilled, +And whence might now the vessel be refilled? +Moreover, after length of days and years +The soul had ceased to beat her barriers, +And like a freeborn bird that caged sings +Had grown at last forgetful of her wings. + + And so he took his way toward the sea-- +Not, as in former days, if haply he +Might spy some ship upon the nether blue, +And beckon with his hands unto the crew, +But rather with an easeful heart to hear +What things the waves might whisper to his ear +Of counsel wise and comfortable speech. +But while he walked about the yellow beach, +There came upon his limbs an heaviness, +For languor of the sultry time's excess; +And so he lay him down under a tree +Hard by a little cove, and there the sea +Sang him to sleep. And sleeping thus, he dreamed +A dream of very wonderment: himseemed, +The spirit that half an hundred years before +In likeness of an eagle came and bore +His body to that island on a day, +Came yet again and found him where he lay, +And taking him betwixt his talons flew +O'er seas and far-off countries, till they drew +Nigh to a city that was built between +Four mountains in a pleasant land and green; +And there upon the highest mountain's top +The bird that was no bird at all let drop +Its burthen, and was seen of him no more. + + Thereat he waked, and issuing from the door +Of dream did marvel in his heart; because +He found he had but dreamed the thing that was: +For there, assuredly, was neither sea +Nor Isle Enchanted; and assuredly +He sat upon the peak of a great hill; +And far below him, looking strangely still, +Uptowered a city exceeding fair to ken, +And murmurous with multitude of men. + + +PART THE EIGHTH + + Now as it chanced, the day was almost spent +When down the lonely mountain-side he went, +The whitehaired man, the Prince that was; and ere +He won the silence of the valley where +The city's many towers uprose, the gate +Was closed against him, for the hour was late. +So even as they that have not wherewithal +To roof them from the rain if it should fall, +Upon the grassy ground this king's son lay, +And slept till nigh the coming of the day. + + But while as any vagabond he slept +Or outcast from the homes of men, there crept +Unto him lying in such sorry sort +A something fairer than the kingliest court +In all the peopled world had witness of-- +Even the shadow of the throne of Love, +That from a height beyond all height did creep +Along the pavement of the halls of sleep. +O fair and wonderful! that shadow was +The golden dream of dreams that came across +His youth, full half an hundred years before, +And sent him wandering through the world. Once more +In a lone boat that sails and oars had none, +Midmost a land of summer and the sun +Where nothing was that was not fair to see, +Adown a gliding river glided he, +And saw the city that was built thereby, +And saw the chariot of the queen draw nigh, +And gazed upon her in the goodly street; +Whereat he waked and rose upon his feet, +Remembering the Vision of the Seer, +And what the spirit spake unto his ear: +"When in thy wanderings thou shalt dream once more +The fateful dream thou haddest heretofore, +That filled thy veins with longing as with wine +Till all thy being brimm'd over--by that sign +Thou mayest know thyself at last to be +Within the borders of his empery +Who hath the mystic emerald stone, whose gleam +Shall light thee to the country of thy dream." + + Then rose the heart within his heart and said: +"O bitter scornful Fate, in days long dead +I asked and thou denied'st mine asking: now +The boon can no-wise profit me, and thou +Dost mock me with bestowal!" Thereupon +He fell to thinking of his youthhood gone, +And wept. For now the goal, the longtime-sought, +Was even at hand, "but how shall I," he thought, +"I that am old and sad and hoary-haired, +Enter the place for youth and love prepared? +For in my veins the wellspring of desire +Hath failed, and in mine heart the golden fire +Burneth no more for ever. I draw near +The night that is about our day, and hear +The sighing of the darkness as I go +Whose ancient secret there is none doth know." + + Ev'n so to his own heart he spake full sad, +And many and bitter were the thoughts he had +Of days that were and days that were to be. +But now the East was big with dawn, and he +Drew nigh the city-gates and entered in, +Ere yet the place remurmured with the din +Of voices and the tread of human feet; +And going up the void and silent street, +All in the chill gleam of the new-lit air, +A Thought found way into his soul, and there +Abode and grew, and in brief while became +Desire, and quickened to a quenchless flame: +And holding converse with himself, he said, +"Though in my heart the heart's desire be dead, +And can no more these time-stilled pulses move; +Though Death were lovelier to these eyes than Love +Yet would these eyes behold, or ere I pass, +The land that mirror'd lay as in a glass +In the deep wells of dream. And her that is +The sunlight of that city of all bliss, +Her would I fain see once with waking eyes +Whom sleep hath rendered unto vision twice. +And having seen her beauty I would go +My way, even to the river which doth flow +From daylight unto darkness and the place +Of silence, where the ghosts are face to face." + + So mused the man, and evermore his thought +Gave him no peace. Wherefore next morn he sought +The palace of the king, but on his way +Tarried till nigh the middle of the day +In talk with certain of the city-folk; +Whereby he learned, if that were true they spoke, +How that the king their lord was nigh distract +With torture of a strange disease that racked +Each day his anguished body more and more, +Setting at naught the leeches and their lore. +Which having heard he went before the king, +Who sat upon his throne, delivering +Judgment, his body pierced the while with pain. +And taking from his neck the charmed chain +Which he had borne about him ever since +That morn miraculous, the unknown Prince +Upspake and said, "O king, I hold within +My hand a wonder-working medicine +Of power to make thee whole if thou wilt deign +So to be healed;" and he held the chain +Aloft, and straightway told unto the king +The passing worth and wonder of the thing. + + Then he that heard stretched forth a hand that shook +With sudden fever of half-hope, and took +The chain, and turned it over in his hand +Until his eyes had left no link unscanned. +And on each separate link was character'd +A language that no living ear had heard, +Occult, of secret import, mystic, strange. +Then said the king, "What would'st thou in exchange +For this the magic metal thou dost bring?" +And the Prince answered him and said, "O king, +Even the emerald stone which some do call +The Emerald of the Virtues Mystical." +And they who thronged the hall of judgment were +Astonished at the stranger who could dare +Ask such a boon; and some base mouths did curl +With sneers, churl whispering to his fellow churl, +"Who could have deemed the man so covetous, +So void of shame in his great greed?" For thus +It shall be ever underneath the sun, +Each man believing that high hearts are none +Whose own is as the dust he treads on low. + + But the king answered saying, "Be it so. +To-night this chain of iron shall be worn +About my neck, and on the morrow-morn, +If all the pain have left these limbs of mine, +The guerdon thou demandest shall be thine. +But if this torment still tormenteth me, +Thy head and shoulders shall part company, +And both be cast uncoffin'd to the worms. +Open thy mouth and answer if these terms +Content thee." And aloud the Prince replied, +"With these conditions I am satisfied:" +Whereafter, rising from his knees, he went +Out from before the king, and was content. + + Next morning, when the king awoke, I wis +No heart was lighter in the land than his; +For all the grievous burden of his pains +Had fall'n from off his limbs, and in his veins +Upleapt the glad new life, and the sick soul +Seemed like its body all at once made whole. +But hardly was the king uprisen before +There knock'd and entered at the chamber-door +His chief physician (a right skilful leech, +But given to hollow trickeries of speech, +And artful ways and wiles) who said, "O king, +Be not deceived, I pray thee. One good thing +Comes of another, like from like. The weed +Beareth not lilies, neither do apes breed +Antelopes. Thou art healed of thy pain +Not by the wearing of an iron chain-- +An iron chain forsooth!"--(hereat he laughed +As 'twere a huge rare jest) "but by the draught +Which I prepared for thee with mine own hands +From certain precious simples grown in lands +It irks me tell how many leagues away: +Which medicine thou tookest yesterday." + + Then said the king, "O false and jealous man, +Who lovest better thine own praises than +Thy master's welfare! Little 'tis to such +As thou, that I should be made whole; but much +That men should go before thee, trumpeting +"'Behold the man that cured our lord the king.'" +And he was sore displeased and in no mood +To hearken. But the chief physician stood +Unmoved amid this hail of kingly scorn, +With meek face martyr-like, as who hath borne +Much in the name of Truth, and much can bear. +And from the mouth of him false words and fair +So cunningly flowed that in a little while +The royal frown became a royal smile, +And the king hearkened to the leech and was +Persuaded. So that morn it came to pass +That when the Prince appeared before the throne +To claim his rightful meed, the emerald stone, +The king denied his title to receive +The jewel, saying, "Think'st thou I believe +Yon jingling chain hath healed my body? Nay; +For whatsoever such as thou may say +I am not found so easy to beguile: +As for the gem thou wouldest, this good while +It hath adorned the crown I wear, nor shall +The stone be parted from the coronal." + + Scarce had the false king spoken when behold +Through the high ceiling's goodly fretted gold +A sudden shaft of lightning downward sped +And smote the golden crown upon his head, +Yea, melted ev'n as wax the golden crown. +And from the molten metal there fell down +A grassgreen Splendour, and the Emerald Stone +Tumbled from step to step before the throne, +And lay all moveless at the Prince's feet! +And the king sat upon his royal seat +A dead king, marble-mute: but no man stirred +Or spake: and only silence might be heard. + + Then he before whose feet the gem did lie +Said not a word to any man thereby, +But stooped and lifted it from off the floor, +And passing outward from the open door +Put the mysterious jewel in his breast +And went his way, none daring to molest +The stranger. For the whisper rose and ran, +"Is not the lightning leagued with this man?" + + +PART THE NINTH + + And passing through the city he went out +Into the fat fields lying thereabout, +And lo the spirit of the emerald stone +With secret influence to himself unknown +Guided the wandering of his errant feet, +The servants of the errant soul; and sweet +The meadows were, with babble of birds, and noise +Of brooks, the water's voice and the wind's voice. +Howbeit he gave small heed to any of them; +And now the subtile spirit of the gem +Led him along a winding way that ran +Beyond the fields to where the woods began +To spread green matwork for the mountains' feet; +A region where the Silence had her seat +And hearkened to the sounds that only she +Can hear--the fall of dew on herb and tree; +The voice of the growing of the grass; the night +Down-fluttering breathless from the heaven's height; +And autumn whispering unawares at times +Strange secrets and dark sayings, wrapt in rhymes +Wind-won from forest branches. At this place +The old man rested for a little space, +Forgetful that the day was wellnigh flown: +But soon the urgent spirit of the stone +Itself re-entered and possessed anew +His soul; and led thereby, and wandering through +A mile of trackless and untrodden ground, +By favour of the rising moon he found +A rude path, broken here and there by rills +Which crossed it as they hurried from the hills. +And going whitherso the wild path went, +A two hours' journeying brought him, wellnigh spent +With toiling upwards, to a mountain pass, +A bleak lone place where no trees grew nor grass, +But on each hand a peak of rock, high-reared, +Uprose: afar the two like horns appeared +Of some great beast, so tapering-tall they were. +And now with forward gaze the wanderer +Stood where the pass was highest and the track +Went downward both ways; and behind his back +The full moon shone, and lo before his face +The bright sea glimmered at the mountain's base. +It seemed, what way soever he might turn, +His fate still led him to that watery bourn. + + So journeying down the track which lay before, +He came, an hour past midnight, to the shore, +And, looking backward, far above espied +The two sharp peaks, one peak on either side +Of that lone pass; verily like a pair +Of monstrous horns, the tips far-seen, up there: +And in the nether space betwixt the two, +A single monstrous eye the moon shone through. + + Now all this while the spirit of the stone +Had led him forward, he, the old man lone, +Taking no thought of whither he was bound. +And roaming now along the beach he found +A creek, and in the creek, some little way +From where it joined the sea, a pinnace lay +Moored at the marge; and stepping thereinto, +He sat him down, and from his bosom drew +The mystic gem, and placed it at the prow, +That he might watch its paly splendours, how +They lightened here and there, and flashed aflame, +Mocked at the moon and put the stars to shame. +But hardly was the stone out of his hand, +When the boat wrenched her moorings from the land, +And swift as any captive bird set free +Shot o'er the shimmering surface of the sea, +The spirit of the emerald guiding her; +And for a time the old man could not stir +For very greatness of astonishment. + +But merrily o'er the moonlit waters went +The pinnace, till the land was out of sight, +Far in the dreaming distance. All that night, +Faster than ever wind in winter blew, +Faster than quarrel flies the bow, she flew. +A moment was a league in that wild flight +From vast to vast of ocean and the night. +And now the moon her lanthorn had withdrawn: +And now the pale weak heralds of the dawn +Lifted the lids of their blear eyes afar: +The last belated straggler of a star +Went home; and in her season due the morn +Brake on a cold and silent sea forlorn-- +A strange mute sea, where never wave hath stirred, +Nor sound of any wandering wind is heard, +Nor voice of sailors sailing merrily: +A sea untraversed, an enchanted sea +From all the world fate-folden; hemmed about +Of linked Dreams; encompassed with a Doubt. + + But not the less for lack of wind went she, +The flying pinnace, o'er that silent sea, +Till those dull waters of enchantment lay +Behind her many a league. And now her way +Was toward a shining tract of ocean, where +Low winds with bland breath flattered the mild air, +And low waves did together clasp and close, +And skyward yearning from the sea there rose +And seaward yearning from the sky there fell +A Spirit of Deep Content Unspeakable: +So midway meeting betwixt sky and sea, +These twain are married for eternity, +And rule the spirits of that Deep, and share +The lordship of the legions of the air. + + Here winds but came to rest them from their wars +With far seas waged. Here Darkness had her stars +Always, a nightly multitudinous birth. +And entering on this happier zone of earth, +The boat 'gan bate her speed, and by degrees +Tempered her motion to the tranquil seas, +As if she knew the land not far ahead, +The port not far: so forward piloted +By that sweet spirit and strong, she held her way +Unveering. And a little past midday, +The wanderer lifted up his eyes, and right +Before him saw what seemed a great wall, white +As alabaster, builded o'er the sea, +High as the heaven; but drawing nearer he +Perceived it was a mighty mist that lay +Upon the ocean, stretching far away +Northward and southward, and the sun appeared +Powerless to melt its mass. And while he neared +This cloudy barrier stretching north and south, +A tale once told him by his mother's mouth, +In childhood, while he sat upon her knee, +Rose to remembrance: _how that on the sea. +Sat somewhere a Great Mist which no sun's heat +Could melt, nor wind make wander from, its seat. +So great it was, the fastest ship would need +Seven days to compass it, with all her speed. +And they of deepest lore and wisest wit +Deemed that an island in the midst of it +Bloomed like a rosebush ring'd with snows, a place +Of pleasance, folded in that white embrace +And chill. But never yet would pilot steer +Into the fog that wrapped it round, for fear +Of running blindfold in that sightless mist +On sunken reefs whereof no mariner wist: +And so from all the world this happy isle +Lay hidden_. Thus the queen, long since; and while +He marvelled if the mist before his ken +Could be the same she told of--even then, +Hardly a furlong 'fore the pinnace' prow +It lay: and now 'twas hard at hand: and now +The boat had swept into the folds of it! +But all that vision of white darkness--lit +By the full splendour of the emerald stone +That from the forepart of the pinnace shone-- +Melted around her, as in sunder cleft +By that strong spirit of light; and there was left +A wandering space, behind her and before, +Of radiance, roofed and walled with mist, the floor +A liquid pavement large. And so she passed +Through twilight immemorial, and at last +Issued upon the other side, where lay +The land no mortal knew before that day. + + There wilding orchards faced the beach, and bare +All manner of delicious fruit and rare, +Such as in gardens of kings' palaces +Trembles upon the sultry-scented trees, +The soul of many sunbeams at its core. +Well-pleased the wanderer landed on this shore, +Beholding all its pleasantness, how sweet +And soft, to the tired soul, to the tired feet. +And so he sat him down beneath the boughs, +And there a low wind seemed to drone and drowse +Among the leaves as it were gone astray +And like to faint forwearied by the way; +Till the persistence of the sound begat +An heaviness within him as he sat: +So when Sleep chanced to come that way, he found +A captive not unwilling to be bound, +And on his body those fine fetters put +Wherewith he bindeth mortals hand and foot. + + When the tired sleeper oped again his eyes, +'Twas early morn, and he beheld the skies +Glowing from those deep hours of rest and dew +Wherein all creatures do themselves renew. +The laughing leaves blink'd in the sun, throughout +Those dewy realms of orchard thereabout; +But green fields lay beyond, and farther still, +Betwixt them and the sun, a great high hill +Kept these in shadow, and the brighter made +The fruitlands look for all that neighbouring shade. +And he the solitary man uprose, +His face toward the mountain beyond those +Fair fields not yet acquainted with the sun; +And crossed the fields, and climbed the hill, and won +The top; and journeying down the eastern side +Entered upon a grassy vale and wide, +Where in the midst a pure stream ran, as yet +A youngling, hardly able to forget +The lofty place of its nativity, +Nor lusting yet for union with the sea. +And through this valley, taking for his guide +The stream, and walking by the waterside, +He wandered on, but had at whiles to ford +The lesser brooks that from the mountains poured +Into this greater; which by slow degrees, +Enlarged with such continual soft increase, +Became a river broad and fair, but still +As clear as when it flowed a mountain-rill: +And he the wanderer wandering by that stream +Saw 'twas the river he had known in dream. + + So day by day he journeyed; and it chanced +One day he fared till night was well advanced +Ere lying down to sleep; and when he waked +Next morn, his bones and all his body ached, +And on his temples lay a weary heat, +And with sore pain he got upon his feet. +Yet when he rose and hard at hand espied +The City sloping to the riverside, +With bright white walls and golden port agleam, +Such as he saw them figured in the dream-- +Then the blood leapt as fire along his veins +And the o'erwearied limbs forgat their pains. +But when he strove to make what speed he might +Toward the happy haven full in sight, +The feet that would have hastened thereunto +Could not; and heavily, as old men do, +He fell to earth, and groaned aloud and said, +"Old man, what would'st thou, with thy silvered head, +Yonder, where all their tresses be as gold +Forever?--Thou art suffered to behold +The city of thy search: what wilt thou more? +Tarry thou here upon this river-shore; +Thou mightest farther go nor find the grass +Greener, whereon to lay thy head, and pass +Into the deep dark populous empty land." + + So spake the man, not able to withstand +This dumb remonstrance of the flesh, now first +Thwarting the soul. Howbeit a mighty thirst +Consumed him, and he crawled unto the brink +Of the clear stream hard by, that he might drink +One draught thereof, and with the water still +His deep desire. When lo a miracle! +No sooner had he drunken than his whole +Body was changed and did from crown to sole +The likeness of its youthful self put on, +The Prince of half-an-hundred years agone, +Wearing the very garments that he wore +What time his years were but a single score. + + Then he remembered how that in The Dream +One told him of the marvel of that stream, +Whose waters are a well of youth eterne. +And night and day its crystal heart doth yearn +To wed its youthhood with the sea's old age; +And faring on that bridal pilgrimage, +Its waters past the shining city are rolled, +And all the people drink and wax not old. + + +PART THE TENTH + + That night within the City of Youth there stood +Musicians playing to the multitude +On many a gold and silver instrument +Whose differing souls yet chimed in glad consent. +And sooth-tongued singers, throated like the bird +All darkness holds its breath to hear, were heard +Chanting aloud before the comely folk, +Chanting aloud till none-for listening spoke, +Chanting aloud that all the city rang; +And whoso will may hear the song they sang:-- + +I + + O happy hearts, O youths and damsels, pray +What new and wondrous thing hath chanced to-day, +O happy hearts, what wondrous thing and new? +Set the gold sun with kinglier-mightful glance, +Rose the maid-moon with queenlier countenance, +Came the stars forth a merrier madder crew, +Than ever sun or maiden-moon before, +Or jostling stars that shook the darkness' floor +With night-wide tremor 'neath their dizzy dance? + + Strong is the Sun, but strong alway was he; +The Moon is fair, but ever fair showed she; +The Stars are many, and who hath known them few? +As now they be, so heretofore were they: +What is the wondrous thing hath chanced to-day, +O happy hearts, the wondrous thing and new, +Whereof ye are glad together even more +Than of the sunlight or the moonlight or +The light o' the stars that strow the milky-way? + + For all your many maidens have the head +In goodly festal wise engarlanded, +With flowers at noon the banquet of the bees, +And leaves that in some grove at midday grew: +And ever since the falling of the dew +Your streets are full of pomps and pageantries, +Laughter and song, feasting and dancing:--nay, +Surely some wondrous thing hath chanced to-day; +O happy hearts, what wondrous thing and new? + +II + + No, no, ye need not answer any word! +Heard have we all--who lives and hath not heard?-- +What thing the sovran Fates have done to-day; +Who turn the tides of life which way they please, +And sit themselves aloft, aloof, at ease: +Dwellers in courts of marble silence they. +No need to ask what thing the Fates have done +Between the sunrise and the set of sun, +Mute-moving in their twilight fastnesses! + + Changeless, aloft, aloof, mute-moving, dim, +In ancient fastnesses of twilight--him +Have they not sent this day, the long-foretold, +The long-foretold and much-desired, of whom +'Twas whilom written in the rolls of doom +How in a dream he should this land behold, +And hither come from worldwide wandering, +Hither where all the folk should hail him king, +Our king foredestined from his mother's womb? + + Long time he tarried, but the time is past, +And he hath come ye waited for, at last: +The long-foretold, the much-desired, hath come. +And ye command your minstrels noise abroad +With lyre and tongue your joyance and his laud, +And, sooth to say, the minstrels are not dumb. +And ever in the pauses of our chant, +So for exceeding perfect joy ye pant, +We hear the beating of your hearts applaud! + +III + + And she our Queen--ah, who shall tell what hours +She bode his coming in her palace-towers, +Unmated she in all the land alone? +'Twas yours, O youths and maids, to clasp and kiss; +Desiring and desired ye had your bliss: +The Queen she sat upon her loveless throne. +Sleeping she saw his face, but could not find +Its phantom's phantom when she waked, nor wind +About her finger one gold hair of his. + + Often when evening sobered all the air, +No doubt but she would sit and marvel where +He tarried, by the bounds of what strange sea; +And peradventure look at intervals +Forth of the windows of her palace walls, +And watch the gloaming darken fount and tree; +And think on twilight shores, with dreaming caves +Full of the groping of bewildered waves, +Full of the murmur of their hollow halls. + + As flowers desire the kisses of the rain, +She his, and many a year desired in vain: +She waits no more who waited long enow. +Nor listeth he to wander any more +Who went as go the winds from sea to shore, +From shore to sea who went as the winds go. +The winds do seek a place of rest; the flowers +Look for the rain; but in a while the showers +Come, and the winds lie down, their wanderings o'er. + + + +ANGELO. + + Seven moons, new moons, had eastward set their horns +Averted from the sun; seven moons, old moons, +Westward their sun-averted horns had set; +Since Angelo had brought his young bride home, +Lucia, to queen it in his Tuscan halls. +And much the folk had marvelled on that day +Seeing the bride how young and fair she was, +How all unlike the groom; for she had known +Twenty and five soft summers woo the world, +He twice as many winters take 't by storm. +And in those half-an-hundred winters,--ay, +And in the summer's blaze, and blush of spring, + And pomp of grave and grandiose autumntides,-- +Full many a wind had beat upon his heart, +Of grief and frustrate hope full many a wind, +And rains full many, but no rains could damp +The fuel that was stored within; which lay +Unlighted, waiting for the tinder-touch, +Until a chance spark fall'n from Lucia's eyes +Kindled the fuel, and the fire was love: +Not such as rises blown upon the wind, +Goaded to flame by gusts of phantasy, +But still, and needing no replenishment, +Unquenchable, that would not be put out. + + Albeit the lady Lucia's bosom lacked +The ore had made her heart a richer mine +Than earth's auriferous heart unsunned; from her +Love went not out, in whom there was no love. +Cold from the first, her breast grew frore, and bit +Her kind lord's bosom with its stinging frost. +Because he loved the fields and forests, made +Few banquetings for highborn winebibbers, +Eschewed the city and led no sumptuous life, +She, courtly, sneered at his uncourtliness, +Deeming his manners of a bygone mode. +And for that he was gentle overmuch, +And overmuch forbearant, she despised, +Mocked, slighted, taunted him, and of her scorn +Made a sharp shaft to wound his life at will. +She filled her cup with hate and bade him drink, +And he returned it brimming o'er with love. + + And so seven moons had waxed and waned since these +Were wedded. And it chanced, one morn of Spring +Lucia bespake her spouse in even more +Ungentle wise than was her wont, and he, +For the first time, reproved her;--not as one +That having from another ta'en ill words +Will e'en cry quits and barter words as ill; +But liker as a father, whom his child +With insolent lips hath wounded, chides the child +Less than he knows it had been wise to do, +Saying within himself: "The time will come +When thou wilt think on thy dead father, how +Thou might'st have spoken gentlier unto him +One day, when yet thy father was alive: +So shall thy heart rebuke thy heart enow:"-- +Ev'n thus did Angelo reprove his wife. + + But though the words from his rough-bearded lips +Were like sweet water from the mouth of some +Rock-fountain hewn with elemental hands, +They fell as water cast i' the fire, to be +Consumed with hissing rage. Her wrath, let loose, +Blew to and fro, and hither and thither, like +A wind that seems to have forgotten whence +It came, and whither it was bidden blow. +She cursed the kinsfolk who had willed that she +Should wed with him; and cursed herself that gave +Ear to the utterance of their will; and cursed +The day on which their will became her deed: +Saying--and this he knew not until now-- +"Fool, I should ne'er have wedded thee at all, +No, neither thee nor any like to thee, +Had not my father wellnigh forced me to 't." +And he that hearkened, the Lord Angelo, +Spake not a word, but bowed his head, and went +Forth of his castle to the forest nigh, +And roamed all day about the forest, filled +With grief, and marvelling at her lack of love. + + But that which sorelier bruised his breast than ev'n +Lucia's exceeding lack of love for him, +Was this new knowledge, that in taking her +To wife--in the very act of taking her +To wife--himself had crossed the secret will +Of her whose will in all things it had been +His soul's most perfect bliss to gratify. +Wherefore, to make atonement, in some sort, +For this one wrong he deemed that he had done +The woman--this one crossing of her will-- +He knelt him down under the brooding shade +Of a huge oak, and vowed 'fore heaven a vow: +To wit, that Lucia never afterward +Should in his hearing utter forth a wish +For aught of earthly but himself would see +That wish fulfilled, if such fulfilment were +An end that mortal man could compass. Then +Uprising, he beheld the sinking sun +A vast round eye gaze in upon the wood +Through leafy lattice of its nether boughs: +Whereat he turned him castlewards, and owned +A lighter heart than he had borne that day. + + Homeward his face no sooner had he set +Than through the woods came riding unto him +A stranger, of a goodly personage, +Young, and right richly habited, who stayed +His horse, and greeted Angelo, and said: +"I pray you, sir, direct me how to find +An hostel, if there be such hereabouts; +For I have ridden far, and lost my way +Among these woods, and twilight is at hand." +Then he that heard replied to him that asked, +Saying: "The nearest inn is farther hence +Than mine own house; make therefore mine own house +Your inn for this one night, and unto such +Poor entertainment as my house affords +You are most welcome." So the stranger thanked +In courtly speeches the Lord Angelo, +Gladly accepting hospitalities +That were so gladly proffered; and the two +Fared on together, host and guest that were +To be, until they reached the castle, where +Angelo dwelt, and where his fathers lived +Before him, lords of land, in olden days. + + And entering in, the castle's later lord +Led the young signor to the chamber where +The lady Lucia sat, who rose to give +The stranger courteous welcome. (When she chose, +Of looks and lips more gracious none than she.) +But soon as she beheld the young man's face, +A sudden pallor seized her own, and back +She started, wellnigh swooning, but regained +Her wonted self as suddenly, declared +'Twas but a momentary sickness went +Arrow-like through her, sharp, but therewithal +Brief as the breath's one ebb and flow; and which, +Passing, had left her painless as before. +And truly, from that moment she appeared +More brightly beautiful, if Angelo +Erred not, than she had looked for many a day. + + So in brief while the stranger-guest sat down, +With host and hostess, to a table charged +With delicate meats, and fragrant fruits, and wine. +And when the meal was over, and themselves +Were with themselves alone--the serving-men +Having withdrawn--a cheerful converse rose +Concerning divers matters old and new. +And Angelo that evening let his tongue +Range more at freedom than he used; for though +No man was less to prating given than he, +Yet, when he liked his listener, he could make +His mouth discourse in such a wise that few +Had failed to give delighted audience. +For he had learning, and, besides the lore +Won from his books, a better wisdom owned-- +A knowledge of the stuff whence books are made, +The human mind and all it feeds upon. +And, in his youth a wanderer, he had roamed +O'er many countries, not as one who sees +With eyes alone, and hearkens but with ears; +Rather as who would slake the thirst of the soul +By sucking wisdom from the breasts of the world. + + Wherefore the hours flew lightly, winged with words; +Till Angelo, from telling of his own +Young days and early fortunes good and ill, +Was with remembrance smitten, as it chanced, +Of some old grief 'twas grief to think upon. +And so he changed his theme o' the sudden, donned +A shadowy mask of laboured pleasantry, +And said: "My wife, sir, hath a pretty gift +Of singing and of luting: it may be +If you should let your tongue turn mendicant-- +Not for itself but for its needy kin, +Your ears--she might be got to give an alms +For those twin brethren." Whereupon the guest +Unto his hostess turned and smiling said: +"That were indeed a golden alms your voice +Could well afford, and never know itself +The poorer, being a mint of suchlike coin." +And she made answer archly: "I have oft +Heard flatterers of a woman's singing say +Her voice was silvery:--to compare 't with gold +Is sure a new conceit. But, sir, you praise +My singing, who have not yet heard me sing." +And he: "I take it that a woman's speech +Is to her singing what a bird's low chirp +Is to _its_ singing: and if Philomel +Chirp in the hearing of the woodman, he +Knows 'tis the nightingale that chirps, and so +Expects nought meaner than its sovereign song. +Madam, 'tis thus your speaking-voice hath given +Earnest of what your singing-voice will be; +And therefore I entreat you not to dash +The expectations you have raised so high, +By your refusal." And she answered him: +"Nay, if you think to hear a nightingale, +I doubt refusal could not dash them more +Than will compliance. But in very truth, +The boon you crave so small and worthless is, +'Twere miserly to grudge it. Where's my lute?" + + So saying, she bethought her suddenly-- +Or feigned to have bethought her suddenly-- +How she had left the lute that afternoon +Lying upon an arbour-seat, when she +Grew tired of fingering the strings of it-- +Down in the garden, where she wont to walk, +Her lute loquacious to the trees' deaf trunks. +And Angelo, right glad to render her +Such little graceful offices of love, +And gladder yet with hope to hear her sing +Who had denied his asking many a time, +Awaited not another word, but rose +And said, "Myself will bring it," and before +She could assent or disapprove, was gone. + + Scarce had he left the chamber when behold +His wife uprose, and his young stranger-guest +Uprose, and in a trice they cast their arms +About each other, kissed each other, called +Each other _dear_ and _love_, till Lucia said: +"Why cam'st thou not before, my Ugo, whom +I loved, who lovedst me, for many a day, +For many a paradisal day, ere yet +I saw that lean fool with the grizzled beard +Who's gone a-questing for his true wife's lute?" +And he made answer: "I had come erenow, +But that my father, dying, left a load +Of cumbrous duties I had needs perform-- +Dry, peevish, crabbed business at the best, +Impertinences indispensable, +Accumulated dulness, if you will, +Such as I would not irk your ears withal: +Howbeit I came at last, and nigh a week +Have tarried in the region hereabouts, +Unknown--and yearning for one glimpse of you, +One word, one kiss from you, if even it were +One only and the last; until, to-day, +Roaming the neighbouring forest, I espied +Your husband, guessed it was your husband, feigned +I was a traveller who had lost myself +Among the woods, received from him--ah, now +You laugh, and truly 'tis a famous jest-- +A courteous invitation to his house, +Deemed it were churlish to refuse, and so-- +And so am here, your Ugo, with a heart +The loyal subject of your sovereign heart, +As in old days." Therewith he sat him down, +And softly drawing her upon his knee +Made him a zone of her lascivious arms. + + But thus encinctured hardly had he sat +A moment, when, returning, Angelo +Stood at the threshold of the room, and held +The door half opened, and so standing saw +The lovers, and they saw not him; for half +The chamber lay in shadow, by no lamp +Lighted, or window to admit the moon: +And there the entrance was, and Angelo. + + And listening to their speech a little space, +The fugitive brief moments were to him +A pyramid of piled eternities. +For while he hearkened, Ugo said: "My love, +Answer me this one question, which may seem +Idle, yet is not;--how much lov'st thou me?" +And she replied: "I love thee just as much +As I do hate my husband, and no more." +Then he: "But prithee how much hatest thou +Thy husband?" And she answered: "Ev'n as much +As I love thee. To hate him one whit more +Than that, were past the power of Lucia's hate." +And Ugo: "If thou lovest me so much, +Grant me one gift in token of thy love." +Then she: "What would'st thou?" And he answered her: +"Even thyself; no poorer gift will I." +But Lucia said: "Nay, have I not bestowed +My love, which is my soul, my richer self? +My poorer self, which is my body, how +Can I bestow, when 'tis not in mine own +Possession, being his property forsooth, +Who holds the ecclesiastic title-deed?... +Yet--but I know not ... if I grant this boon, +Bethink thee, how wilt carry hence the gift? +Quick. For the time is all-too brief to waste." +And Ugo spake with hurrying tongue: "Right so: +To-morrow, therefore, when the sun hath set, +Quit thou the castle, all alone, and haste +To yonder tarn that lies amid the trees +Haply a furlong westward from your house-- +The gloomy lakelet fringed with pines--and there +Upon the hither margin thou shalt find +Me, and two with me, mounted all, and armed, +With a fourth steed to bear thee on his back: +And thou shalt fly with me, my Lucia, till +Thou reach my castle in the mountain'd North, +Whose mistress I will make thee, and mine own." +Then Lucia said: "But how if Angelo +Pursue and overtake us?" Whereupon +Ugo replied: "Pursue he may,--o'ertake +He shall not, save he saddle him the wind. +Besides--to grant the impossible--if he +_Were_ to o'ertake us, he could only strive +To win you back with argument; wherein +My servants, at their master's bidding, could +Debate with him on more than equal terms: +Cold steel convinces warmest disputants. +Or, if to see the bosom marital +Impierced, would make your own consorted heart +Bleed sympathetic, some more mild--" But she, +The beauteous Fury, interrupted him +With passionate-pallid lips: "Reproach me not +Beforehand--even in jest reproach me not-- +With imputation of such tenderness +For _him_ and _his_ life--when thou knowest how +I hate, hate, hate him,--when thou knowest how +I wish, and wish, and wish, that he were dead." + + Then Angelo bethought him of his vow; +And stepping forward stood before the twain; +And from his girdle plucked a dagger forth; +And spake no word, but pierced his own heart through. + + + +THE QUESTIONER + +I asked of heaven and earth and sea, +Saying: "O wondrous trinity, +Deign to make answer unto me, +And tell me truly what ye be." +And they made answer: "Verily, +The mask before His face are we, +Because 'tis writ no man can see +His face and live;"--so spake the three. +Then I: "O wondrous trinity, +A mask is but a mockery-- +Make answer yet again to me +And tell if aught besides are ye." +And they made answer: "Verily, +The robe around His form are we, +That sick and sore mortality +May touch its hem and healed be." +Then I: "O wondrous trinity, +Vouchsafe once more to answer me, +And tell me truly, what is He +Whose very mask and raiment ye?" +But they replied: "Of Time are we, +And of Eternity is He. +Wait thou, and ask Eternity; +Belike his mouth shall answer thee." + + + +THE RIVER + +I + +As drones a bee with sultry hum +When all the world with heat lies dumb, +Thou dronest through the drowsed lea, +To lose thyself and find the sea. + +As fares the soul that threads the gloom +Toward an unseen goal of doom, +Thou farest forth all witlessly, +To lose thyself and find the sea. + +II + +My soul is such a stream as thou, +Lapsing along it heeds not how; +In one thing only unlike thee,-- +Losing itself, it finds no sea. + +Albeit I know a day shall come +When its dull waters will be dumb; +And then this river-soul of Me, +Losing itself, shall find the sea. + + + +CHANGED VOICES + +Last night the seawind was to me +A metaphor of liberty, + And every wave along the beach +A starlit music seemed to be. + +To-day the seawind is to me +A fettered soul that would be free, + And dumbly striving after speech +The tides yearn landward painfully. + +To-morrow how shall sound for me +The changing voice of wind and sea? + What tidings shall be borne of each? +What rumour of what mystery? + + + +A SUNSET + +Westward a league the city lay, with one +Cloud's imminent umbrage o'er it: when behold, + The incendiary sun + Dropped from the womb o' the vapour, rolled +'Mongst huddled towers and temples, 'twixt them set +Infinite ardour of candescent gold, + Encompassed minaret + And terrace and marmoreal spire +With conflagration: roofs enfurnaced, yet +Unmolten,--columns and cupolas flanked with fire, + Yet standing unconsumed + Of the fierce fervency,--and higher +Than all, their fringes goldenly illumed, +Dishevelled clouds, like massed empurpled smoke + From smouldering forges fumed: + Till suddenly the bright spell broke +With the sun sinking through some palace-floor +And vanishing wholly. Then the city woke, + Her mighty Fire-Dream o'er, + As who from out a sleep is raised +Of terrible loveliness, lasting hardly more +Than one most monumental moment; dazed + He looketh, having come + Forth of one world and witless gazed +Into another: ev'n so looked, for some +Brief while, the city--amazed, immobile, dumb. + + + +A SONG OF THREE SINGERS + +I + + Wave and wind and willow-tree +Speak a speech that no man knoweth; +Tree that sigheth, wind that bloweth, + Wave that floweth to the sea: + Wave and wind and willow-tree. + + Peerless perfect poets ye, +Singing songs all songs excelling, +Fine as crystal music dwelling + In a welling fountain free: + Peerless perfect poets three! + +II + + Wave and wind and willow-tree +Know not aught of poets' rhyming, +Yet they make a silver-chiming + Sunward-climbing minstrelsy, + Soother than all songs that be. + + Blows the wind it knows not why, +Flows the wave it knows not whither, +And the willow swayeth hither + Swayeth thither witlessly, + Nothing knowing save to sigh. + + + +LOVE'S ASTROLOGY + + I know not if they erred + Who thought to see +The tale of all the times to be, + Star-character'd; + I know not, neither care, + If fools or knaves they were. + + But this I know: last night + On me there shone +_Two stars_ that made all stars look wan + And shamed quite, + Wherefrom the soul of me + Divined her destiny. + + + +THREE FLOWERS + +I made a little song about the rose + And sang it for the rose to hear, +Nor ever marked until the music's close + A lily that was listening near. + +The red red rose flushed redder with delight, + And like a queen her head she raised. +The white white lily blanched a paler white, + For anger that she was not praised. + +Turning I left the rose unto her pride, + The lily to her enviousness, +And soon upon the grassy ground espied + A daisy all companionless. + +Doubtless no flattered flower is this, I deemed; + And not so graciously it grew +As rose or lily: but methought it seemed + More thankful for the sun and dew. + +_Dear love, my sweet small flower that grew'st among + The grass, from all the flowers apart,-- +Forgive me that I gave the rose my song, + Ere thou, the daisy, hadst my heart!_ + + + +THREE ETERNITIES + +Lo, thou and I, my love, +And the sad stars above,-- +Thou and I, I and thou! +Ah could we lie as now +Ever and aye, my love, +Hand within hand, my love, +Heart within heart, my dove, + Through night and day + For ever! + +Lo, thou and I, my love, +Up in the sky above, +Where the sun makes his home +And the gods are, my love, +One day may wander from +Star unto star, my love,-- +Soul within soul, my love, + Yonder afar + For ever! + +Lo, thou and I, my love, +Some time shall lie, my love, +Knowing not night from day, +Knowing not toil from rest,-- +Breast unto breast, my love, +Even as now for aye: +Clay within clay, my love, + Clay within clay + For ever! + + + +LOVE OUTLOVED + +I + + Love cometh and love goeth, + And he is wise who knoweth + Whither and whence love flies: + But wise and yet more wise +Are they that heed not whence he flies or whither +Who hither speeds to-day, to-morrow thither; +Like to the wind that as it listeth blows, +And man doth hear the sound thereof, but knows +Nor whence it comes nor whither yet it goes. + +II + +O sweet my sometime loved and worshipt one + A day thou gavest me +That rose full-orbed in starlike happiness +And lit our heaven that other stars had none:-- +Sole as that westering sphere companionless + When twilight is begun +And the dead sun transfigureth the sea: + A day so bright +Methought the very shadow, from its light + Thrown, were enough to bless +(Albeit with but a shadow's benison) +The unborn days its dark posterity. + Methought our love, though dead, should be + Fair as in life, by memory +Embalmed, a rose with bloom for aye unblown. +But lo the forest is with faded leaves +And our two hearts with faded loves bestrown, + And in mine ear the weak wind grieves + And uttereth moan: +"Shed leaves and fallen, fallen loves and shed, +And those are dead and these are more than dead; + And those have known +The springtime, these the lovetime, overthrown, +With all fair times and pleasureful that be." +And shall not we, O Time, and shall not we + Thy strong self see + Brought low and vanquished, + And made to bow the knee + And bow the head +To one that is when thou and thine are fled, +The silent-eyed austere Eternity? + +III + +Behold a new song still the lark doth sing +Each morning when he riseth from the grass, +And no man sigheth for the song that was, +The melody that yestermorn did bring. +The rose dies and the lily, and no man mourns +That nevermore the selfsame flower returns: +For well we know a thousand flowers will spring, +A thousand birds make music on the wing. +Ay me! fair things and sweet are birds and flowers, +The scent of lily and rose in gardens still, +The babble of beaked mouths that speak no ill: +And love is sweeter yet than flower or bird, +Or any odor smelled or ditty heard-- +Love is another and a sweeter thing. +But when the music ceaseth in Love's bowers, +Who listeneth well shall hear the silence stirred +With aftermoan of many a fretful string: +For when Love harpeth to the hollow hours, +His gladdest notes make saddest echoing. + + + +VANISHINGS + +As one whose eyes have watched the stricken day +Swoon to its crimson death adown the sea, +Turning his face to eastward suddenly +Sees a lack-lustre world all chill and gray,-- +Then, wandering sunless whitherso he may, +Feels the first dubious dumb obscurity, +And vague foregloomings of the Dark to be, +Close like a sadness round his glimmering way; +So I, from drifting dreambound on and on +About strange isles of utter bliss, in seas +Whose waves are unimagined melodies, +Rose and beheld the dreamless world anew: +Sad were the fields, and dim with splendours gone +The strait sky-glimpses fugitive and few. + + + +BEETHOVEN + +O Master, if immortals suffer aught +Of sadness like to ours, and in like sighs +And with like overflow of darkened eyes +Disburden them, I know not; but methought, +What time to day mine ear the utterance caught +Whereby in manifold melodious wise +Thy heart's unrestful infelicities +Rose like a sea with easeless winds distraught, +That thine seemed angel's grieving, as of one +Strayed somewhere out of heaven, and uttering +Lone moan and alien wail: because he hath +Failed to remember the remounting path, +And singing, weeping, can but weep and sing +Ever, through vasts forgotten of the sun. + + + +GOD-SEEKING + +God-seeking thou hast journeyed far and nigh. +On dawn-lit mountain-tops thy soul did yearn +To hear His trailing garments wander by; +And where 'mid thunderous glooms great sunsets burn, +Vainly thou sought'st His shadow on sea and sky; +Or gazing up, at noontide, could'st discern +Only a neutral heaven's indifferent eye +And countenance austerely taciturn. + +Yet whom thou soughtest I have found at last; +Neither where tempest dims the world below +Nor where the westering daylight reels aghast +In conflagrations of red overthrow: +But where this virgin brooklet silvers past, +And yellowing either bank the king-cups blow. + + + +SKYFARING + +Drifting through vacant spaces vast of sleep, +One overtook me like a flying star +And whirled me onward in his glistering car. +From shade to shade the winged steeds did leap, +And clomb the midnight like a mountain-steep; +Till that vague world where men and women are, +Ev'n as a rushlight down the gulfs afar, +Paled and went out, upswallowed of the deep. + +Then I to that ethereal charioteer: +"O whither through the vastness are we bound? +O bear me back to yonder blinded sphere!" +Therewith I heard the ends of night resound; +And, wakened by ten thousand echoes, found +That far-off planet lying all-too near. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Poems of William Watson, by William Watson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF WILLIAM WATSON *** + +***** This file should be named 13179.txt or 13179.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/1/7/13179/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Melissa Er-Raqabi 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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/old/13179.zip b/old/13179.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7d8d274 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13179.zip |