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diff --git a/old/pmgm210.txt b/old/pmgm210.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0ef149e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/pmgm210.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9147 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Etext of Poems by George Meredith, Volume 2 +#4 in our series by George Meredith + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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M. + + + +Let Fate or Insufficiency provide +Mean ends for men who what they are would be: +Penned in their narrow day no change they see +Save one which strikes the blow to brutes and pride. +Our faith is ours and comes not on a tide: +And whether Earth's great offspring, by decree, +Must rot if they abjure rapacity, +Not argument but effort shall decide. +They number many heads in that hard flock: +Trim swordsmen they push forth: yet try thy steel. +Thou, fighting for poor humankind, wilt feel +The strength of Roland in thy wrist to hew +A chasm sheer into the barrier rock, +And bring the army of the faithful through. + + + +LINES TO A FRIEND VISITING AMERICA + + + +I + +Now farewell to you! you are +One of my dearest, whom I trust: +Now follow you the Western star, +And cast the old world off as dust. + +II + +From many friends adieu! adieu! +The quick heart of the word therein. +Much that we hope for hangs with you: +We lose you, but we lose to win. + +III + +The beggar-king, November, frets: +His tatters rich with Indian dyes +Goes hugging: we our season's debts +Pay calmly, of the Spring forewise. + +IV + +We send our worthiest; can no less, +If we would now be read aright, - +To that great people who may bless +Or curse mankind: they have the might. + +V + +The proudest seasons find their graves, +And we, who would not be wooed, must court. +We have let the blunderers and the waves +Divide us, and the devil had sport. + +VI + +The blunderers and the waves no more +Shall sever kindred sending forth +Their worthiest from shore to shore +For welcome, bent to prove their worth. + +VII + +Go you and such as you afloat, +Our lost kinsfellowship to revive. +The battle of the antidote +Is tough, though silent: may you thrive! + +VIII + +I, when in this North wind I see +The straining red woods blown awry, +Feel shuddering like the winter tree, +All vein and artery on cold sky. + +IX + +The leaf that clothed me is torn away; +My friend is as a flying seed. +Ay, true; to bring replenished day +Light ebbs, but I am bare, and bleed. + +X + +What husky habitations seem +These comfortable sayings! they fell, +In some rich year become a dream:- +So cries my heart, the infidel! . . . + +XI + +Oh! for the strenuous mind in quest, +Arabian visions could not vie +With those broad wonders of the West, +And would I bid you stay? Not I! + +XII + +The strange experimental land +Where men continually dare take +Niagara leaps;--unshattered stand +'Twixt fall and fall;--for conscience' sake, + +XIII + +Drive onward like a flood's increase; - +Fresh rapids and abysms engage; - +(We live--we die) scorn fireside peace, +And, as a garment, put on rage, + +XIV + +Rather than bear God's reprimand, +By rearing on a full fat soil +Concrete of sin and sloth;--this land, +You will observe it coil in coil. + +XV + +The land has been discover'd long, +The people we have yet to know; +Themselves they know not, save that strong +For good and evil still they grow. + +XVI + +Nor know they us. Yea, well enough +In that inveterate machine +Through which we speak the printed stuff +Daily, with voice most hugeous, mien + +XVII + +Tremendous:- as a lion's show +The grand menagerie paintings hide: +Hear the drum beat, the trombones blow! +The poor old Lion lies inside! . . . + +XVIII + +It is not England that they hear, +But mighty Mammon's pipers, trained +To trumpet out his moods, and stir +His sluggish soul: HER voice is chained: + +XIX + +Almost her spirit seems moribund! +O teach them, 'tis not she displays +The panic of a purse rotund, +Eternal dread of evil days, - + +XX + +That haunting spectre of success +Which shows a heart sunk low in the girths: +Not England answers nobleness, - +'Live for thyself: thou art not earth's.' + +XXI + +Not she, when struggling manhood tries +For freedom, air, a hopefuller fate, +Points out the planet, Compromise, +And shakes a mild reproving pate: + +XXII + +Says never: 'I am well at ease, +My sneers upon the weak I shed: +The strong have my cajoleries: +And those beneath my feet I tread.' + +XXIII + +Nay, but 'tis said for her, great Lord! +The misery's there! The shameless one +Adjures mankind to sheathe the sword, +Herself not yielding what it won:- + +XXIV + +Her sermon at cock-crow doth preach, +On sweet Prosperity--or greed. +'Lo! as the beasts feed, each for each, +God's blessings let us take, and feed!' + +XXV + +Ungrateful creatures crave a part - +She tells them firmly she is full; +Lost sheared sheep hurt her tender heart +With bleating, stops her ears with wool:- + +XXVI + +Seized sometimes by prodigious qualms +(Nightmares of bankruptcy and death), - +Showers down in lumps a load of alms, +Then pants as one who has lost a breath; + +XXVII + +Believes high heaven, whence favours flow, +Too kind to ask a sacrifice +For what it specially doth bestow; - +Gives SHE, 'tis generous, cheese to mice. + +XXVIII + +She saw the young Dominion strip +For battle with a grievous wrong, +And curled a noble Norman lip, +And looked with half an eye sidelong; + +XXIX + +And in stout Saxon wrote her sneers, +Denounced the waste of blood and coin, +Implored the combatants, with tears, +Never to think they could rejoin. + +XXX + +Oh! was it England that, alas! +Turned sharp the victor to cajole? +Behold her features in the glass: +A monstrous semblance mocks her soul! + +XXXI + +A false majority, by stealth, +Have got her fast, and sway the rod: +A headless tyrant built of wealth, +The hypocrite, the belly-God. + +XXXII + +To him the daily hymns they raise: +His tastes are sought: his will is done: +He sniffs the putrid steam of praise, +Place for true England here is none! + +XXXIII + +But can a distant race discern +The difference 'twixt her and him? +My friend, that will you bid them learn. +He shames and binds her, head and limb. + +XXXIV + +Old wood has blossoms of this sort. +Though sound at core, she is old wood. +If freemen hate her, one retort +She has; but one!--'You are my blood.' + +XXXV + +A poet, half a prophet, rose +In recent days, and called for power. +I love him; but his mountain prose - +His Alp and valley and wild flower - + +XXXVI + +Proclaimed our weakness, not its source. +What medicine for disease had he? +Whom summoned for a show of force? +Our titular aristocracy! + +XXXVII + +Why, these are great at City feasts; +From City riches mainly rise: +'Tis well to hear them, when the beasts +That die for us they eulogize! + +XXXVIII + +But these, of all the liveried crew +Obeisant in Mammon's walk, +Most deferent ply the facial screw, +The spinal bend, submissive talk. + +XXXIX + +Small fear that they will run to books +(At least the better form of seed)! +I, too, have hoped from their good looks, +And fables of their Northman breed; - + +XL + +Have hoped that they the land would head +In acts magnanimous; but, lo, +When fainting heroes beg for bread +They frown: where they are driven they go. + +XLI + +Good health, my friend! and may your lot +Be cheerful o'er the Western rounds. +This butter-woman's market-trot +Of verse is passing market-bounds. + +XLII + +Adieu! the sun sets; he is gone. +On banks of fog faint lines extend: +Adieu! bring back a braver dawn +To England, and to me my friend. + +November 15th, 1867. + + + +TIME AND SENTIMENT + + + +I see a fair young couple in a wood, +And as they go, one bends to take a flower, +That so may be embalmed their happy hour, +And in another day, a kindred mood, +Haply together, or in solitude, +Recovered what the teeth of Time devour, +The joy, the bloom, and the illusive power, +Wherewith by their young blood they are endued +To move all enviable, framed in May, +And of an aspect sisterly with Truth: +Yet seek they with Time's laughing things to wed: +Who will be prompted on some pallid day +To lift the hueless flower and show that dead, +Even such, and by this token, is their youth. + + + +LUCIFER IN STARLIGHT + + + +On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose. +Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend +Above the rolling ball in cloud part screened, +Where sinners hugged their spectre of repose. +Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those. +And now upon his western wing he leaned, +Now his huge bulk o'er Afric's sands careened, +Now the black planet shadowed Arctic snows. +Soaring through wider zones that pricked his scars +With memory of the old revolt from Awe, +He reached a middle height, and at the stars, +Which are the brain of heaven, he looked, and sank. +Around the ancient track marched, rank on rank, +The army of unalterable law. + + + +THE STAR SIRIUS + + + +Bright Sirius! that when Orion pales +To dotlings under moonlight still art keen +With cheerful fervour of a warrior's mien +Who holds in his great heart the battle-scales: +Unquenched of flame though swift the flood assails, +Reducing many lustrous to the lean: +Be thou my star, and thou in me be seen +To show what source divine is, and prevails. +Long watches through, at one with godly night, +I mark thee planting joy in constant fire; +And thy quick beams, whose jets of life inspire +Life to the spirit, passion for the light, +Dark Earth since first she lost her lord from sight +Has viewed and felt them sweep her as a lyre. + + + +SENSE AND SPIRIT + + + +The senses loving Earth or well or ill +Ravel yet more the riddle of our lot. +The mind is in their trammels, and lights not +By trimming fear-bred tales; nor does the will +To find in nature things which less may chill +An ardour that desires, unknowing what. +Till we conceive her living we go distraught, +At best but circle-windsails of a mill. +Seeing she lives, and of her joy of life +Creatively has given us blood and breath +For endless war and never wound unhealed, +The gloomy Wherefore of our battle-field +Solves in the Spirit, wrought of her through strife +To read her own and trust her down to death. + + + +EARTH'S SECRET + + + +Not solitarily in fields we find +Earth's secret open, though one page is there; +Her plainest, such as children spell, and share +With bird and beast; raised letters for the blind. +Not where the troubled passions toss the mind, +In turbid cities, can the key be bare. +It hangs for those who hither thither fare, +Close interthreading nature with our kind. +They, hearing History speak, of what men were, +And have become, are wise. The gain is great +In vision and solidity; it lives. +Yet at a thought of life apart from her, +Solidity and vision lose their state, +For Earth, that gives the milk, the spirit gives. + + + +INTERNAL HARMONY + + + +Assured of worthiness we do not dread +Competitors; we rather give them hail +And greeting in the lists where we may fail: +Must, if we bear an aim beyond the head! +My betters are my masters: purely fed +By their sustainment I likewise shall scale +Some rocky steps between the mount and vale; +Meanwhile the mark I have and I will wed. +So that I draw the breath of finer air, +Station is nought, nor footways laurel-strewn, +Nor rivals tightly belted for the race. +Good speed to them! My place is here or there; +My pride is that among them I have place: +And thus I keep this instrument in tune. + + + +GRACE AND LOVE + + + +Two flower-enfolding crystal vases she +I love fills daily, mindful but of one: +And close behind pale morn she, like the sun +Priming our world with light, pours, sweet to see, +Clear water in the cup, and into me +The image of herself: and that being done, +Choice of what blooms round her fair garden run +In climbers or in creepers or the tree +She ranges with unerring fingers fine, +To harmony so vivid that through sight +I hear, I have her heavenliness to fold +Beyond the senses, where such love as mine, +Such grace as hers, should the strange Fates withhold +Their starry more from her and me, unite. + + + +APPRECIATION + + + +Earth was not Earth before her sons appeared, +Nor Beauty Beauty ere young Love was born: +And thou when I lay hidden wast as morn +At city-windows, touching eyelids bleared; +To none by her fresh wingedness endeared; +Unwelcome unto revellers outworn. +I the last echoes of Diana's horn +In woodland heard, and saw thee come, and cheered. +No longer wast thou then mere light, fair soul! +And more than simple duty moved thy feet. +New colours rose in thee, from fear, from shame, +From hope, effused: though not less pure a scroll +May men read on the heart I taught to beat: +That change in thee, if not thyself, I claim. + + + +THE DISCIPLINE OF WISDOM + + + +Rich labour is the struggle to be wise, +While we make sure the struggle cannot cease. +Else better were it in some bower of peace +Slothful to swing, contending with the flies. +You point at Wisdom fixed on lofty skies, +As mid barbarian hordes a sculptured Greece: +She falls. To live and shine, she grows her fleece, +Is shorn, and rubs with follies and with lies. +So following her, your hewing may attain +The right to speak unto the mute, and shun +That sly temptation of the illumined brain, +Deliveries oracular, self-spun. +Who sweats not with the flock will seek in vain +To shed the words which are ripe fruit of sun. + + + +THE STATE OF AGE + + + +Rub thou thy battered lamp: nor claim nor beg +Honours from aught about thee. Light the young. +Thy frame is as a dusty mantle hung, +O grey one! pendant on a loosened peg. +Thou art for this our life an ancient egg, +Or a tough bird: thou hast a rudderless tongue, +Turning dead trifles, like the cock of dung, +Which runs, Time's contrast to thy halting leg. +Nature, it is most sure, not thee admires. +But hast thou in thy season set her fires +To burn from Self to Spirit through the lash, +Honoured the sons of Earth shall hold thee high: +Yea, to spread light when thy proud letter I +Drops prone and void as any thoughtless dash. + + + +PROGRESS + + + +In Progress you have little faith, say you: +Men will maintain dear interests, wreak base hates, +By force, and gentle women choose their mates +Most amorously from the gilded fighting crew: +The human heart Bellona's mad halloo +Will ever fire to dicing with the Fates. +'Now at this time,' says History, 'those two States +Stood ready their past wrestling to renew. +They sharpened arms and showed them, like the brutes +Whose haunches quiver. But a yellow blight +Fell on their waxing harvests. They deferred +The bloody settlement of their disputes +Till God should bless them better.' They did right. +And naming Progress, both shall have the word. + + + +THE WORLD'S ADVANCE + + + +Judge mildly the tasked world; and disincline +To brand it, for it bears a heavy pack. +You have perchance observed the inebriate's track +At night when he has quitted the inn-sign: +He plays diversions on the homeward line, +Still that way bent albeit his legs are slack: +A hedge may take him, but he turns not back, +Nor turns this burdened world, of curving spine. +'Spiral,' the memorable Lady terms +Our mind's ascent: our world's advance presents +That figure on a flat; the way of worms. +Cherish the promise of its good intents, +And warn it, not one instinct to efface +Ere Reason ripens for the vacant place. + + + +A CERTAIN PEOPLE + + + +As Puritans they prominently wax, +And none more kindly gives and takes hard knocks. +Strong psalmic chanting, like to nasal cocks, +They join to thunderings of their hearty thwacks. +But naughtiness, with hoggery, not lacks +When Peace another door in them unlocks, +Where conscience shows the eyeing of an ox +Grown dully apprehensive of an Axe. +Graceless they are when gone to frivolousness, +Fearing the God they flout, the God they glut. +They need their pious exercises less +Than schooling in the Pleasures: fair belief +That these are devilish only to their thief, +Charged with an Axe nigh on the occiput. + + + +THE GARDEN OF EPICURUS + + + +That Garden of sedate Philosophy +Once flourished, fenced from passion and mishap, +A shining spot upon a shaggy map; +Where mind and body, in fair junction free, +Luted their joyful concord; like the tree +From root to flowering twigs a flowing sap. +Clear Wisdom found in tended Nature's lap +Of gentlemen the happy nursery. +That Garden would on light supremest verge, +Were the long drawing of an equal breath +Healthful for Wisdom's head, her heart, her aims. +Our world which for its Babels wants a scourge, +And for its wilds a husbandman, acclaims +The crucifix that came of Nazareth. + + + +A LATER ALEXANDRIAN + + + +An inspiration caught from dubious hues +Filled him, and mystic wrynesses he chased; +For they lead farther than the single-faced, +Wave subtler promise when desire pursues. +The moon of cloud discoloured was his Muse, +His pipe the reed of the old moaning waste. +Love was to him with anguish fast enlaced, +And Beauty where she walked blood-shot the dews. +Men railed at such a singer; women thrilled +Responsively: he sang not Nature's own +Divinest, but his lyric had a tone, +As 'twere a forest-echo of her voice: +What barrenly they yearn for seemed distilled +From what they dread, who do through tears rejoice. + + + +AN ORSON OF THE MUSE + + + +Her son, albeit the Muse's livery +And measured courtly paces rouse his taunts, +Naked and hairy in his savage haunts, +To Nature only will he bend the knee; +Spouting the founts of her distillery +Like rough rock-sources; and his woes and wants +Being Nature's, civil limitation daunts +His utterance never; the nymphs blush, not he. +Him, when he blows of Earth, and Man, and Fate, +The Muse will hearken to with graver ear +Than many of her train can waken: him +Would fain have taught what fruitful things and dear +Must sink beneath the tidewaves, of their weight, +If in no vessel built for sea they swim. + + + +THE POINT OF TASTE + + + +Unhappy poets of a sunken prime! +You to reviewers are as ball to bat. +They shadow you with Homer, knock you flat +With Shakespeare: bludgeons brainingly sublime +On you the excommunicates of Rhyme, +Because you sing not in the living Fat. +The wiry whizz of an intrusive gnat +Is verse that shuns their self-producing time. +Sound them their clocks, with loud alarum trump, +Or watches ticking temporal at their fobs, +You win their pleased attention. But, bright God +O' the lyre, what bully-drawlers they applaud! +Rather for us a tavern-catch, and bump +Chorus where Lumpkin with his Giles hobnobs. + + + +CAMELUS SALTAT + + + +What say you, critic, now you have become +An author and maternal?--in this trap +(To quote you) of poor hollow folk who rap +On instruments as like as drum to drum. +You snarled tut-tut for welcome to tum-tum, +So like the nose fly-teased in its noon's nap. +You scratched an insect-slaughtering thunder-clap +With that between the fingers and the thumb. +It seemeth mad to quit the Olympian couch, +Which bade our public gobble or reject. +O spectacle of Peter, shrewdly pecked, +Piper, by his own pepper from his pouch! +What of the sneer, the jeer, the voice austere, +You dealt?--the voice austere, the jeer, the sneer. + + + +CONTINUED + + + +Oracle of the market! thence you drew +The taste which stamped you guide of the inept. - +A North-sea pilot, Hildebrand yclept, +A sturdy and a briny, once men knew. +He loved small beer, and for that copious brew, +To roll ingurgitation till he slept, +Rations exchanged with flavour for the adept: +And merrily plied him captain, mate and crew. +At last this dancer to the Polar star +Sank, washed out within, and overboard was pitched, +To drink the sea and pilot him to land. +O captain-critic! printed, neatly stitched, +Know while the pillory-eggs fly fast, they are +Not eggs, but the drowned soul of Hildebrand. + + + +MY THEME + + + +Of me and of my theme think what thou wilt: +The song of gladness one straight bolt can check. +But I have never stood at Fortune's beck: +Were she and her light crew to run atilt +At my poor holding little would be spilt; +Small were the praise for singing o'er that wreck. +Who courts her dooms to strife his bended neck; +He grasps a blade, not always by the hilt. +Nathless she strikes at random, can be fell +With other than those votaries she deals +The black or brilliant from her thunder-rift. +I say but that this love of Earth reveals +A soul beside our own to quicken, quell, +Irradiate, and through ruinous floods uplift. + + + +CONTINUED + + + +'Tis true the wisdom that my mind exacts +Through contemplation from a heart unbent +By many tempests may be stained and rent: +The summer flies it mightily attracts. +Yet they seem choicer than your sons of facts, +Which scarce give breathing of the sty's content +For their diurnal carnal nourishment: +Which treat with Nature in official pacts. +The deader body Nature could proclaim. +Much life have neither. Let the heavens of wrath +Rattle, then both scud scattering to froth. +But during calms the flies of idle aim +Less put the spirit out, less baffle thirst +For light than swinish grunters, blest or curst. + + + +ON THE DANGER OF WAR + + + +Avert, High Wisdom, never vainly wooed, +This threat of War, that shows a land brain-sick. +When nations gain the pitch where rhetoric +Seems reason they are ripe for cannon's food. +Dark looms the issue though the cause be good, +But with the doubt 'tis our old devil's trick. +O now the down-slope of the lunatic +Illumine lest we redden of that brood. +For not since man in his first view of thee +Ascended to the heavens giving sign +Within him of deep sky and sounded sea, +Did he unforfeiting thy laws transgress; +In peril of his blood his ears incline +To drums whose loudness is their emptiness. + + + +TO CARDINAL MANNING + + + +I, wakeful for the skylark voice in men, +Or straining for the angel of the light, +Rebuked am I by hungry ear and sight, +When I behold one lamp that through our fen +Goes hourly where most noisome; hear again +A tongue that loathsomeness will not affright +From speaking to the soul of us forthright +What things our craven senses keep from ken. +This is the doing of the Christ; the way +He went on earth; the service above guile +To prop a tyrant creed: it sings, it shines; +Cries to the Mammonites: Allay, allay +Such misery as by these present signs +Brings vengeance down; nor them who rouse revile. + + + +TO COLONEL CHARLES (DYING GENERAL C.B.B.) + + + +I + +An English heart, my commandant, +A soldier's eye you have, awake +To right and left; with looks askant +On bulwarks not of adamant, +Where white our Channel waters break. + +II + +Where Grisnez winks at Dungeness +Across the ruffled strip of salt, +You look, and like the prospect less. +On men and guns would you lay stress, +To bid the Island's foemen halt. + +III + +While loud the Year is raising cry +At birth to know if it must bear +In history the bloody dye, +An English heart, a soldier's eye, +For the old country first will care. + +IV + +And how stands she, artillerist, +Among the vapours waxing dense, +With cannon charged? 'Tis hist! and hist! +And now she screws a gouty fist, +And now she counts to clutch her pence. + +V + +With shudders chill as aconite, +The couchant chewer of the cud +Will start at times in pussy fright +Before the dogs, when reads her sprite +The streaks predicting streams of blood. + +VI + +She thinks they may mean something; thinks +They may mean nothing: haply both. +Where darkness all her daylight drinks, +She fain would find a leader lynx, +Not too much taxing mental sloth. + +VII + +Cleft like the fated house in twain, +One half is, Arm! and one, Retrench! +Gambetta's word on dull MacMahon: +'The cow that sees a passing train': +So spies she Russian, German, French. + +VIII + +She? no, her weakness: she unbraced +Among those athletes fronting storms! +The muscles less of steel than paste, +Why, they of nature feel distaste +For flash, much more for push, of arms. + +IX + +The poet sings, and well know we, +That 'iron draws men after it.' +But towering wealth may seem the tree +Which bears the fruit INDEMNITY, +And draw as fast as battle's fit, + +X + +If feeble be the hand on guard, +Alas, alas! And nations are +Still the mad forces, though the scarred. +Should they once deem our emblem Pard +Wagger of tail for all save war; - + +XI + +Mechanically screwed to flail +His flanks by Presses conjuring fear; - +A money-bag with head and tail; - +Too late may valour then avail! +As you beheld, my cannonier, + +XII + +When with the staff of Benedek, +On the plateau of Koniggratz, +You saw below that wedgeing speck; +Foresaw proud Austria rammed to wreck, +Where Chlum drove deep in smoky jets. + +February 1887. + + + +TO CHILDREN: FOR TYRANTS + + + +I + +Strike not thy dog with a stick! +I did it yesterday: +Not to undo though I gained +The Paradise: heavy it rained +On Kobold's flanks, and he lay. + +II + +Little Bruno, our long-ear pup, +From his hunt had come back to my heel. +I heard a sharp worrying sound, +And Bruno foamed on the ground, +With Koby as making a meal. + +III + +I did what I could not undo +Were the gates of the Paradise shut +Behind me: I deemed it was just. +I left Koby crouched in the dust, +Some yards from the woodman's hut. + +IV + +He bewhimpered his welting, and I +Scarce thought it enough for him: so, +By degrees, through the upper box-grove, +Within me an old story hove, +Of a man and a dog: you shall know. + +V + +The dog was of novel breed, +The Shannon retriever, untried: +His master, an old Irish lord, +In an oaken armchair snored +At midnight, whisky beside. + +VI + +Perched up a desolate tower, +Where the black storm-wind was a whip +To set it nigh spinning, these two +Were alone, like the last of a crew, +Outworn in a wave-beaten ship. + +VII + +The dog lifted muzzle, and sniffed; +He quitted his couch on the rug, +Nose to floor, nose aloft; whined, barked; +And, finding the signals unmarked, +Caught a hand in a death-grapple tug. + +VIII + +He pulled till his master jumped +For fury of wrath, and laid on +With the length of a tough knotted staff, +Fit to drive the life flying like chaff, +And leave a sheer carcase anon. + +IX + +That done, he sat, panted, and cursed +The vile cross of this brute: nevermore +Would he house it to rear such a cur! +The dog dragged his legs, pained to stir, +Eyed his master, dropped, barked at the door. + +X + +Then his master raised head too, and sniffed: +It struck him the dog had a sense +That honoured both dam and sire. +You have guessed how the tower was afire. +The Shannon retriever dates thence. + +XI + +I mused: saw the pup ease his heart +Of his instinct for chasing, and sink +Overwrought by excitement so new: +A scene that for Koby to view +Was the seizure of nerves in a link. + +XII + +And part sympathetic, and part +Imitatively, raged my poor brute; +And I, not thinking of ill, +Doing eviller: nerves are still +Our savage too quick at the root. + +XIII + +They spring us: I proved it, albeit +I played executioner then +For discipline, justice, the like. +Yon stick I had handy to strike +Should have warned of the tyrant in men. + +XIV + +You read in your History books, +How the Prince in his youth had a mind +For governing gently his land. +Ah, the use of that weapon at hand, +When the temper is other than kind! + +XV + +At home all was well; Koby's ribs +Not so sore as my thoughts: if, beguiled, +He forgives me, his criminal air +Throws a shade of Llewellyn's despair +For the hound slain for saving his child. + + + +THE WOODS OF WESTERMAIN + + + +I + +Enter these enchanted woods, +You who dare. +Nothing harms beneath the leaves +More than waves a swimmer cleaves. +Toss your heart up with the lark, +Foot at peace with mouse and worm, +Fair you fare. +Only at a dread of dark +Quaver, and they quit their form: +Thousand eyeballs under hoods +Have you by the hair. +Enter these enchanted woods, +You who dare. + +II + +Here the snake across your path +Stretches in his golden bath: +Mossy-footed squirrels leap +Soft as winnowing plumes of Sleep: +Yaffles on a chuckle skim +Low to laugh from branches dim: +Up the pine, where sits the star, +Rattles deep the moth-winged jar. +Each has business of his own; +But should you distrust a tone, +Then beware. +Shudder all the haunted roods, +All the eyeballs under hoods +Shroud you in their glare. +Enter these enchanted woods, +You who dare. + +III + +Open hither, open hence, +Scarce a bramble weaves a fence, +Where the strawberry runs red, +With white star-flower overhead; +Cumbered by dry twig and cone, +Shredded husks of seedlings flown, +Mine of mole and spotted flint: +Of dire wizardry no hint, +Save mayhap the print that shows +Hasty outward-tripping toes, +Heels to terror on the mould. +These, the woods of Westermain, +Are as others to behold, +Rich of wreathing sun and rain; +Foliage lustreful around +Shadowed leagues of slumbering sound. +Wavy tree-tops, yellow whins, +Shelter eager minikins, +Myriads, free to peck and pipe: +Would you better? would you worse? +You with them may gather ripe +Pleasures flowing not from purse. +Quick and far as Colour flies +Taking the delighted eyes, +You of any well that springs +May unfold the heaven of things; +Have it homely and within, +And thereof its likeness win, +Will you so in soul's desire: +This do sages grant t' the lyre. +This is being bird and more, +More than glad musician this; +Granaries you will have a store +Past the world of woe and bliss; +Sharing still its bliss and woe; +Harnessed to its hungers, no. +On the throne Success usurps, +You shall seat the joy you feel +Where a race of water chirps, +Twisting hues of flourished steel: +Or where light is caught in hoop +Up a clearing's leafy rise, +Where the crossing deerherds troop +Classic splendours, knightly dyes. +Or, where old-eyed oxen chew +Speculation with the cud, +Read their pool of vision through, +Back to hours when mind was mud; +Nigh the knot, which did untwine +Timelessly to drowsy suns; +Seeing Earth a slimy spine, +Heaven a space for winging tons. +Farther, deeper, may you read, +Have you sight for things afield, +Where peeps she, the Nurse of seed, +Cloaked, but in the peep revealed; +Showing a kind face and sweet: +Look you with the soul you see't. +Glory narrowing to grace, +Grace to glory magnified, +Following that will you embrace +Close in arms or aery wide. +Banished is the white Foam-born +Not from here, nor under ban +Phoebus lyrist, Phoebe's horn, +Pipings of the reedy Pan. +Loved of Earth of old they were, +Loving did interpret her; +And the sterner worship bars +None whom Song has made her stars. +You have seen the huntress moon +Radiantly facing dawn, +Dusky meads between them strewn +Glimmering like downy awn: +Argent Westward glows the hunt, +East the blush about to climb; +One another fair they front, +Transient, yet outshine the time; +Even as dewlight off the rose +In the mind a jewel sows. +Thus opposing grandeurs live +Here if Beauty be their dower: +Doth she of her spirit give, +Fleetingness will spare her flower. +This is in the tune we play, +Which no spring of strength would quell; +In subduing does not slay; +Guides the channel, guards the well: +Tempered holds the young blood-heat, +Yet through measured grave accord, +Hears the heart of wildness beat +Like a centaur's hoof on sward. +Drink the sense the notes infuse, +You a larger self will find: +Sweetest fellowship ensues +With the creatures of your kind. +Ay, and Love, if Love it be +Flaming over I and ME, +Love meet they who do not shove +Cravings in the van of Love. +Courtly dames are here to woo, +Knowing love if it be true. +Reverence the blossom-shoot +Fervently, they are the fruit. +Mark them stepping, hear them talk, +Goddess, is no myth inane, +You will say of those who walk +In the woods of Westermain. +Waters that from throat and thigh +Dart the sun his arrows back; +Leaves that on a woodland sigh +Chat of secret things no lack; +Shadowy branch-leaves, waters clear, +Bare or veiled they move sincere; +Not by slavish terrors tripped +Being anew in nature dipped, +Growths of what they step on, these; +With the roots the grace of trees. +Casket-breasts they give, nor hide, +For a tyrant's flattered pride, +Mind, which nourished not by light, +Lurks the shuffling trickster sprite: +Whereof are strange tales to tell; +Some in blood writ, tombed in bell. +Here the ancient battle ends, +Joining two astonished friends, +Who the kiss can give and take +With more warmth than in that world +Where the tiger claws the snake, +Snake her tiger clasps infurled, +And the issue of their fight +People lands in snarling plight. +Here her splendid beast she leads +Silken-leashed and decked with weeds +Wild as he, but breathing faint +Sweetness of unfelt constraint. +Love, the great volcano, flings +Fires of lower Earth to sky; +Love, the sole permitted, sings +Sovereignly of ME and I. +Bowers he has of sacred shade, +Spaces of superb parade, +Voiceful . . . But bring you a note +Wrangling, howsoe'er remote, +Discords out of discord spin +Round and round derisive din: +Sudden will a pallor pant +Chill at screeches miscreant; +Owls or spectres, thick they flee; +Nightmare upon horror broods; +Hooded laughter, monkish glee, +Gaps the vital air. +Enter these enchanted woods +You who dare. + +IV + +You must love the light so well +That no darkness will seem fell. +Love it so you could accost +Fellowly a livid ghost. +Whish! the phantom wisps away, +Owns him smoke to cocks of day. +In your breast the light must burn +Fed of you, like corn in quern +Ever plumping while the wheel +Speeds the mill and drains the meal. +Light to light sees little strange, +Only features heavenly new; +Then you touch the nerve of Change, +Then of Earth you have the clue; +Then her two-sexed meanings melt +Through you, wed the thought and felt. +Sameness locks no scurfy pond +Here for Custom, crazy-fond: +Change is on the wing to bud +Rose in brain from rose in blood. +Wisdom throbbing shall you see +Central in complexity; +From her pasture 'mid the beasts +Rise to her ethereal feasts, +Not, though lightnings track your wit +Starward, scorning them you quit: +For be sure the bravest wing +Preens it in our common spring, +Thence along the vault to soar, +You with others, gathering more, +Glad of more, till you reject +Your proud title of elect, +Perilous even here while few +Roam the arched greenwood with you. +Heed that snare. +Muffled by his cavern-cowl +Squats the scaly Dragon-fowl, +Who was lord ere light you drank, +And lest blood of knightly rank +Stream, let not your fair princess +Stray: he holds the leagues in stress, +Watches keenly there. +Oft has he been riven; slain +Is no force in Westermain. +Wait, and we shall forge him curbs, +Put his fangs to uses, tame, +Teach him, quick as cunning herbs, +How to cure him sick and lame. +Much restricted, much enringed, +Much he frets, the hooked and winged, +Never known to spare. +'Tis enough: the name of Sage +Hits no thing in nature, nought; +Man the least, save when grave Age +From yon Dragon guards his thought. +Eye him when you hearken dumb +To what words from Wisdom come. +When she says how few are by +Listening to her, eye his eye. +Self, his name declare. +Him shall Change, transforming late, +Wonderously renovate. +Hug himself the creature may: +What he hugs is loathed decay. +Crying, slip thy scales, and slough! +Change will strip his armour off; +Make of him who was all maw, +Inly only thrilling-shrewd, +Such a servant as none saw +Through his days of dragonhood. +Days when growling o'er his bone, +Sharpened he for mine and thine; +Sensitive within alone; +Scaly as the bark of pine. +Change, the strongest son of Life, +Has the Spirit here to wife. +Lo, their young of vivid breed, +Bear the lights that onward speed, +Threading thickets, mounting glades, +Up the verdurous colonnades, +Round the fluttered curves, and down, +Out of sight of Earth's blue crown, +Whither, in her central space, +Spouts the Fount and Lure o' the chase. +Fount unresting, Lure divine! +There meet all: too late look most. +Fire in water hued as wine, +Springs amid a shadowy host, +Circled: one close-headed mob, +Breathless, scanning divers heaps, +Where a Heart begins to throb, +Where it ceases, slow, with leaps. +And 'tis very strange, 'tis said, +How you spy in each of them +Semblance of that Dragon red, +As the oak in bracken-stem. +And, 'tis said, how each and each: +Which commences, which subsides: +First my Dragon! doth beseech +Her who food for all provides. +And she answers with no sign; +Utters neither yea nor nay; +Fires the water hued as wine; +Kneads another spark in clay. +Terror is about her hid; +Silence of the thunders locked; +Lightnings lining the shut lid; +Fixity on quaking rocked. +Lo, you look at Flow and Drought +Interflashed and interwrought: +Ended is begun, begun +Ended, quick as torrents run. +Young Impulsion spouts to sink; +Luridness and lustre link; +'Tis your come and go of breath; +Mirrored pants the Life, the Death; +Each of either reaped and sown: +Rosiest rosy wanes to crone. +See you so? your senses drift; +'Tis a shuttle weaving swift. +Look with spirit past the sense, +Spirit shines in permanence. +That is She, the view of whom +Is the dust within the tomb, +Is the inner blush above, +Look to loathe, or look to love; +Think her Lump, or know her Flame; +Dread her scourge, or read her aim; +Shoot your hungers from their nerve; +Or, in her example, serve. +Some have found her sitting grave; +Laughing, some; or, browed with sweat, +Hurling dust of fool and knave +In a hissing smithy's jet. +More it were not well to speak; +Burn to see, you need but seek. +Once beheld she gives the key +Airing every doorway, she. +Little can you stop or steer +Ere of her you are the seer. +On the surface she will witch, +Rendering Beauty yours, but gaze +Under, and the soul is rich +Past computing, past amaze. +Then is courage that endures +Even her awful tremble yours. +Then, the reflex of that Fount +Spied below, will Reason mount +Lordly and a quenchless force, +Lighting Pain to its mad source, +Scaring Fear till Fear escapes, +Shot through all its phantom shapes. +Then your spirit will perceive +Fleshly seed of fleshly sins; +Where the passions interweave, +How the serpent tangle spins +Of the sense of Earth misprised, +Brainlessly unrecognized; +She being Spirit in her clods, +Footway to the God of Gods. +Then for you are pleasures pure, +Sureties as the stars are sure: +Not the wanton beckoning flags +Which, of flattery and delight, +Wax to the grim Habit-Hags +Riding souls of men to night: +Pleasures that through blood run sane, +Quickening spirit from the brain. +Each of each in sequent birth, +Blood and brain and spirit, three, +(Say the deepest gnomes of Earth), +Join for true felicity. +Are they parted, then expect +Some one sailing will be wrecked: +Separate hunting are they sped, +Scan the morsel coveted. +Earth that Triad is: she hides +Joy from him who that divides; +Showers it when the three are one +Glassing her in union. +Earth your haven, Earth your helm, +You command a double realm; +Labouring here to pay your debt, +Till your little sun shall set; +Leaving her the future task: +Loving her too well to ask. +Eglantine that climbs the yew, +She her darkest wreathes for those +Knowing her the Ever-new, +And themselves the kin o' the rose. +Life, the chisel, axe and sword, +Wield who have her depths explored: +Life, the dream, shall be their robe +Large as air about the globe; +Life, the question, hear its cry +Echoed with concordant Why; +Life, the small self-dragon ramped, +Thrill for service to be stamped. +Ay, and over every height +Life for them shall wave a wand: +That, the last, where sits affright, +Homely shows the stream beyond. +Love the light and be its lynx, +You will track her and attain; +Read her as no cruel Sphinx +In the woods of Westermain, +Daily fresh the woods are ranged; +Glooms which otherwhere appal, +Sounded: here, their worths exchanged +Urban joins with pastoral: +Little lost, save what may drop +Husk-like, and the mind preserves. +Natural overgrowths they lop, +Yet from nature neither swerves, +Trained or savage: for this cause: +Of our Earth they ply the laws, +Have in Earth their feeding root, +Mind of man and bent of brute. +Hear that song; both wild and ruled. +Hear it: is it wail or mirth? +Ordered, bubbled, quite unschooled? +None, and all: it springs of Earth. +O but hear it! 'tis the mind; +Mind that with deep Earth unites, +Round the solid trunk to wind +Rings of clasping parasites. +Music have you there to feed +Simplest and most soaring need. +Free to wind, and in desire +Winding, they to her attached +Feel the trunk a spring of fire, +And ascend to heights unmatched, +Whence the tidal world is viewed +As a sea of windy wheat, +Momently black, barren, rude; +Golden-brown, for harvest meet, +Dragon-reaped from folly-sown; +Bride-like to the sickle-blade: +Quick it varies, while the moan, +Moan of a sad creature strayed, +Chiefly is its voice. So flesh +Conjures tempest-flails to thresh +Good from worthless. Some clear lamps +Light it; more of dead marsh-damps. +Monster is it still, and blind, +Fit but to be led by Pain. +Glance we at the paths behind, +Fruitful sight has Westermain. +There we laboured, and in turn +Forward our blown lamps discern, +As you see on the dark deep +Far the loftier billows leap, +Foam for beacon bear. +Hither, hither, if you will, +Drink instruction, or instil, +Run the woods like vernal sap, +Crying, hail to luminousness! +But have care. +In yourself may lurk the trap: +On conditions they caress. +Here you meet the light invoked +Here is never secret cloaked. +Doubt you with the monster's fry +All his orbit may exclude; +Are you of the stiff, the dry, +Cursing the not understood; +Grasp you with the monster's claws; +Govern with his truncheon-saws; +Hate, the shadow of a grain; +You are lost in Westermain: +Earthward swoops a vulture sun, +Nighted upon carrion: +Straightway venom wine-cups shout +Toasts to One whose eyes are out: +Flowers along the reeling floor +Drip henbane and hellebore: +Beauty, of her tresses shorn, +Shrieks as nature's maniac: +Hideousness on hoof and horn +Tumbles, yapping in her track: +Haggard Wisdom, stately once, +Leers fantastical and trips: +Allegory drums the sconce, +Impiousness nibblenips. +Imp that dances, imp that flits, +Imp o' the demon-growing girl, +Maddest! whirl with imp o' the pits +Round you, and with them you whirl +Fast where pours the fountain-rout +Out of Him whose eyes are out: +Multitudes on multitudes, +Drenched in wallowing devilry: +And you ask where you may be, +In what reek of a lair +Given to bones and ogre-broods: +And they yell you Where. +Enter these enchanted woods, +You who dare. + + + +A BALLAD OF PAST MERIDIAN + + + +I + +Last night returning from my twilight walk +I met the grey mist Death, whose eyeless brow +Was bent on me, and from his hand of chalk +He reached me flowers as from a withered bough: +O Death, what bitter nosegays givest thou! + +II + +Death said, I gather, and pursued his way. +Another stood by me, a shape in stone, +Sword-hacked and iron-stained, with breasts of clay, +And metal veins that sometimes fiery shone: +O Life, how naked and how hard when known! + +III + +Life said, As thou hast carved me, such am I. +Then memory, like the nightjar on the pine, +And sightless hope, a woodlark in night sky, +Joined notes of Death and Life till night's decline +Of Death, of Life, those inwound notes are mine. + + + +THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES + + + +I + +He who has looked upon Earth +Deeper than flower and fruit, +Losing some hue of his mirth, +As the tree striking rock at the root, +Unto him shall the marvellous tale +Of Callistes more humanly come +With the touch on his breast than a hail +From the markets that hum. + +II + +Now the youth footed swift to the dawn. +'Twas the season when wintertide, +In the higher rock-hollows updrawn, +Leaves meadows to bud, and he spied, +By light throwing shallow shade, +Between the beam and the gloom, +Sicilian Enna, whose Maid +Such aspect wears in her bloom +Underneath since the Charioteer +Of Darkness whirled her away, +On a reaped afternoon of the year, +Nigh the poppy-droop of Day. +O and naked of her, all dust, +The majestic Mother and Nurse, +Ringing cries to the God, the Just, +Curled the land with the blight of her curse: +Recollected of this glad isle +Still quaking. But now more fair, +And momently fraying the while +The veil of the shadows there, +Soft Enna that prostrate grief +Sang through, and revealed round the vines, +Bronze-orange, the crisp young leaf, +The wheat-blades tripping in lines, +A hue unillumined by sun +Of the flowers flooding grass as from founts: +All the penetrable dun +Of the morn ere she mounts. + +III + +Nor had saffron and sapphire and red +Waved aloft to their sisters below, +When gaped by the rock-channel head +Of the lake, black, a cave at one blow, +Reverberant over the plain: +A sound oft fearfully swung +For the coming of wrathful rain: +And forth, like the dragon-tongue +Of a fire beaten flat by the gale, +But more as the smoke to behold, +A chariot burst. Then a wail +Quivered high of the love that would fold +Bliss immeasurable, bigger than heart, +Though a God's: and the wheels were stayed, +And the team of the chariot swart +Reared in marble, the six, dismayed, +Like hoofs that by night plashing sea +Curve and ramp from the vast swan-wave: +For, lo, the Great Mother, She! +And Callistes gazed, he gave +His eyeballs up to the sight: +The embrace of the Twain, of whom +To men are their day, their night, +Mellow fruits and the shearing tomb: +Our Lady of the Sheaves +And the Lily of Hades, the Sweet +Of Enna: he saw through leaves +The Mother and Daughter meet. +They stood by the chariot-wheel, +Embraced, very tall, most like +Fellow poplars, wind-taken, that reel +Down their shivering columns and strike +Head to head, crossing throats: and apart, +For the feast of the look, they drew, +Which Darkness no longer could thwart; +And they broke together anew, +Exulting to tears, flower and bud. +But the mate of the Rayless was grave: +She smiled like Sleep on its flood, +That washes of all we crave: +Like the trance of eyes awake +And the spirit enshrouded, she cast +The wan underworld on the lake. +They were so, and they passed. + +IV + +He tells it, who knew the law +Upon mortals: he stood alive +Declaring that this he saw: +He could see, and survive. + +V + +Now the youth was not ware of the beams +With the grasses intertwined, +For each thing seen, as in dreams, +Came stepping to rear through his mind, +Till it struck his remembered prayer +To be witness of this which had flown +Like a smoke melted thinner than air, +That the vacancy doth disown. +And viewing a maiden, he thought +It might now be morn, and afar +Within him the memory wrought +Of a something that slipped from the car +When those, the august, moved by: +Perchance a scarf, and perchance +This maiden. She did not fly, +Nor started at his advance: +She looked, as when infinite thirst +Pants pausing to bless the springs, +Refreshed, unsated. Then first +He trembled with awe of the things +He had seen; and he did transfer, +Divining and doubting in turn, +His reverence unto her; +Nor asked what he crouched to learn: +The whence of her, whither, and why +Her presence there, and her name, +Her parentage: under which sky +Her birth, and how hither she came, +So young, a virgin, alone, +Unfriended, having no fear, +As Oreads have; no moan, +Like the lost upon earth; no tear; +Not a sign of the torch in the blood, +Though her stature had reached the height +When mantles a tender rud +In maids that of youths have sight, +If maids of our seed they be: +For he said: A glad vision art thou! +And she answered him: Thou to me! +As men utter a vow. + +VI + +Then said she, quick as the cries +Of the rainy cranes: Light! light! +And Helios rose in her eyes, +That were full as the dew-balls bright, +Relucent to him as dews +Unshaded. Breathing, she sent +Her voice to the God of the Muse, +And along the vale it went, +Strange to hear: not thin, not shrill: +Sweet, but no young maid's throat: +The echo beyond the hill +Ran falling on half the note: +And under the shaken ground +Where the Hundred-headed groans +By the roots of great AEtna bound, +As of him were hollow tones +Of wondering roared: a tale +Repeated to sunless halls. +But now off the face of the vale +Shadows fled in a breath, and the walls +Of the lake's rock-head were gold, +And the breast of the lake, that swell +Of the crestless long wave rolled +To shore-bubble, pebble and shell. +A morning of radiant lids +O'er the dance of the earth opened wide: +The bees chose their flowers, the snub kids +Upon hindlegs went sportive, or plied, +Nosing, hard at the dugs to be filled: +There was milk, honey, music to make: +Up their branches the little birds billed: +Chirrup, drone, bleat and buzz ringed the lake. +O shining in sunlight, chief +After water and water's caress, +Was the young bronze-orange leaf, +That clung to the tree as a tress, +Shooting lucid tendrils to wed +With the vine-hook tree or pole, +Like Arachne launched out on her thread. +Then the maiden her dusky stole +In the span of the black-starred zone, +Gathered up for her footing fleet. +As one that had toil of her own +She followed the lines of wheat +Tripping straight through the fields, green blades, +To the groves of olive grey, +Downy-grey, golden-tinged: and to glades +Where the pear-blossom thickens the spray +In a night, like the snow-packed storm: +Pear, apple, almond, plum: +Not wintry now: pushing, warm! +And she touched them with finger and thumb, +As the vine-hook closes: she smiled, +Recounting again and again, +Corn, wine, fruit, oil! like a child, +With the meaning known to men. +For hours in the track of the plough +And the pruning-knife she stepped, +And of how the seed works, and of how +Yields the soil, she seemed adept. +Then she murmured that name of the dearth, +The Beneficent, Hers, who bade +Our husbandmen sow for the birth +Of the grain making earth full glad. +She murmured that Other's: the dirge +Of life-light: for whose dark lap +Our locks are clipped on the verge +Of the realm where runs no sap. +She said: We have looked on both! +And her eyes had a wavering beam +Of various lights, like the froth +Of the storm-swollen ravine stream +In flame of the bolt. What links +Were these which had made him her friend? +He eyed her, as one who drinks, +And would drink to the end. + +VII + +Now the meadows with crocus besprent, +And the asphodel woodsides she left, +And the lake-slopes, the ravishing scent +Of narcissus, dark-sweet, for the cleft +That tutors the torrent-brook, +Delaying its forceful spleen +With many a wind and crook +Through rock to the broad ravine. +By the hyacinth-bells in the brakes, +And the shade-loved white windflower, half hid, +And the sun-loving lizards and snakes +On the cleft's barren ledges, that slid +Out of sight, smooth as waterdrops, all, +At a snap of twig or bark +In the track of the foreign foot-fall, +She climbed to the pineforest dark, +Overbrowing an emerald chine +Of the grass-billows. Thence, as a wreath, +Running poplar and cypress to pine, +The lake-banks are seen, and beneath, +Vineyard, village, groves, rivers, towers, farms, +The citadel watching the bay, +The bay with the town in its arms, +The town shining white as the spray +Of the sapphire sea-wave on the rock, +Where the rock stars the girdle of sea, +White-ringed, as the midday flock, +Clipped by heat, rings the round of the tree. +That hour of the piercing shaft +Transfixes bough-shadows, confused +In veins of fire, and she laughed, +With her quiet mouth amused +To see the whole flock, adroop, +Asleep, hug the tree-stem as one, +Imperceptibly filling the loop +Of its shade at a slant of sun. +The pipes under pent of the crag, +Where the goatherds in piping recline, +Have whimsical stops, burst and flag +Uncorrected as outstretched swine: +For the fingers are slack and unsure, +And the wind issues querulous:- thorns +And snakes!--but she listened demure, +Comparing day's music with morn's. +Of the gentle spirit that slips +From the bark of the tree she discoursed, +And of her of the wells, whose lips +Are coolness enchanting, rock-sourced. +And much of the sacred loon, +The frolic, the Goatfoot God, +For stories of indolent noon +In the pineforest's odorous nod, +She questioned, not knowing: he can +Be waspish, irascible, rude, +He is oftener friendly to man, +And ever to beasts and their brood. +For the which did she love him well, +She said, and his pipes of the reed, +His twitched lips puffing to tell +In music his tears and his need, +Against the sharp catch of his hurt. +Not as shepherds of Pan did she speak, +Nor spake as the schools, to divert, +But fondly, perceiving him weak +Before Gods, and to shepherds a fear, +A holiness, horn and heel. +All this she had learnt in her ear +From Callistes, and taught him to feel. +Yea, the solemn divinity flushed +Through the shaggy brown skin of the beast, +And the steeps where the cataract rushed, +And the wilds where the forest is priest, +Were his temple to clothe him in awe, +While she spake: 'twas a wonder: she read +The haunts of the beak and the claw +As plain as the land of bread, +But Cities and martial States, +Whither soon the youth veered his theme, +Were impervious barrier-gates +To her: and that ship, a trireme, +Nearing harbour, scarce wakened her glance, +Though he dwelt on the message it bore +Of sceptre and sword and lance +To the bee-swarms black on the shore, +Which were audible almost, +So black they were. It befel +That he called up the warrior host +Of the Song pouring hydromel +In thunder, the wide-winged Song. +And he named with his boyish pride +The heroes, the noble throng +Past Acheron now, foul tide! +With his joy of the godlike band +And the verse divine, he named +The chiefs pressing hot on the strand, +Seen of Gods, of Gods aided, and maimed. +The fleetfoot and ireful; the King; +Him, the prompter in stratagem, +Many-shifted and masterful: Sing, +O Muse! But she cried: Not of them +She breathed as if breath had failed, +And her eyes, while she bade him desist, +Held the lost-to-light ghosts grey-mailed, +As you see the grey river-mist +Hold shapes on the yonder bank. +A moment her body waned, +The light of her sprang and sank: +Then she looked at the sun, she regained +Clear feature, and she breathed deep. +She wore the wan smile he had seen, +As the flow of the river of Sleep, +On the mouth of the Shadow-Queen. +In sunlight she craved to bask, +Saying: Life! And who was she? who? +Of what issue? He dared not ask, +For that partly he knew. + +VIII + +A noise of the hollow ground +Turned the eye to the ear in debate: +Not the soft overflowing of sound +Of the pines, ranked, lofty, straight, +Barely swayed to some whispers remote, +Some swarming whispers above: +Not the pines with the faint airs afloat, +Hush-hushing the nested dove: +It was not the pines, or the rout +Oft heard from mid-forest in chase, +But the long muffled roar of a shout +Subterranean. Sharp grew her face. +She rose, yet not moved by affright; +'Twas rather good haste to use +Her holiday of delight +In the beams of the God of the Muse. +And the steeps of the forest she crossed, +On its dry red sheddings and cones +Up the paths by roots green-mossed, +Spotted amber, and old mossed stones. +Then out where the brook-torrent starts +To her leap, and from bend to curve +A hurrying elbow darts +For the instant-glancing swerve, +Decisive, with violent will +In the action formed, like hers, +The maiden's, ascending; and still +Ascending, the bud of the furze, +The broom, and all blue-berried shoots +Of stubborn and prickly kind, +The juniper flat on its roots, +The dwarf rhododaphne, behind +She left, and the mountain sheep +Far behind, goat, herbage and flower. +The island was hers, and the deep, +All heaven, a golden hour. +Then with wonderful voice, that rang +Through air as the swan's nigh death, +Of the glory of Light she sang, +She sang of the rapture of Breath. +Nor ever, says he who heard, +Heard Earth in her boundaries broad, +From bosom of singer or bird +A sweetness thus rich of the God +Whose harmonies always are sane. +She sang of furrow and seed, +The burial, birth of the grain, +The growth, and the showers that feed, +And the green blades waxing mature +For the husbandman's armful brown. +O, the song in its burden ran pure, +And burden to song was a crown. +Callistes, a singer, skilled +In the gift he could measure and praise, +By a rival's art was thrilled, +Though she sang but a Song of Days, +Where the husbandman's toil and strife +Little varies to strife and toil: +But the milky kernel of life, +With her numbered: corn, wine, fruit, oil +The song did give him to eat: +Gave the first rapt vision of Good, +And the fresh young sense of Sweet +The grace of the battle for food, +With the issue Earth cannot refuse +When men to their labour are sworn. +'Twas a song of the God of the Muse +To the forehead of Morn. + +IX + +Him loved she. Lo, now was he veiled: +Over sea stood a swelled cloud-rack: +The fishing-boat heavenward sailed, +Bent abeam, with a whitened track, +Surprised, fast hauling the net, +As it flew: sea dashed, earth shook. +She said: Is it night? O not yet! +With a travail of thoughts in her look. +The mountain heaved up to its peak: +Sea darkened: earth gathered her fowl; +Of bird or of branch rose the shriek. +Night? but never so fell a scowl +Wore night, nor the sky since then +When ocean ran swallowing shore, +And the Gods looked down for men. +Broke tempest with that stern roar +Never yet, save when black on the whirl +Rode wrath of a sovereign Power. +Then the youth and the shuddering girl, +Dim as shades in the angry shower, +Joined hands and descended a maze +Of the paths that were racing alive +Round boulder and bush, cleaving ways, +Incessant, with sound of a hive. +The height was a fountain-urn +Pouring streams, and the whole solid height +Leaped, chasing at every turn +The pair in one spirit of flight +To the folding pineforest. Yet here, +Like the pause to things hunted, in doubt, +The stillness bred spectral fear +Of the awfulness ranging without, +And imminent. Downward they fled, +From under the haunted roof, +To the valley aquake with the tread +Of an iron-resounding hoof, +As of legions of thunderful horse +Broken loose and in line tramping hard. +For the rage of a hungry force +Roamed blind of its mark over sward: +They saw it rush dense in the cloak +Of its travelling swathe of steam; +All the vale through a thin thread-smoke +Was thrown back to distance extreme: +And dull the full breast of it blinked, +Like a buckler of steel breathed o'er, +Diminished, in strangeness distinct, +Glowing cold, unearthly, hoar: +An Enna of fields beyond sun, +Out of light, in a lurid web; +And the traversing fury spun +Up and down with a wave's flow and ebb; +As the wave breaks to grasp and to spurn, +Retire, and in ravenous greed, +Inveterate, swell its return. +Up and down, as if wringing from speed +Sights that made the unsighted appear, +Delude and dissolve, on it scoured. +Lo, a sea upon land held career +Through the plain of the vale half-devoured. +Callistes of home and escape +Muttered swiftly, unwitting of speech. +She gazed at the Void of shape, +She put her white hand to his reach, +Saying: Now have we looked on the Three. +And divided from day, from night, +From air that is breath, stood she, +Like the vale, out of light. + +X + +Then again in disorderly words +He muttered of home, and was mute, +With the heart of the cowering birds +Ere they burst off the fowler's foot. +He gave her some redness that streamed +Through her limbs in a flitting glow. +The sigh of our life she seemed, +The bliss of it clothing in woe. +Frailer than flower when the round +Of the sickle encircles it: strong +To tell of the things profound, +Our inmost uttering song, +Unspoken. So stood she awhile +In the gloom of the terror afield, +And the silence about her smile +Said more than of tongue is revealed. +I have breathed: I have gazed: I have been: +It said: and not joylessly shone +The remembrance of light through the screen +Of a face that seemed shadow and stone. +She led the youth trembling, appalled, +To the lake-banks he saw sink and rise +Like a panic-struck breast. Then she called, +And the hurricane blackness had eyes. +It launched like the Thunderer's bolt. +Pale she drooped, and the youth by her side +Would have clasped her and dared a revolt +Sacrilegious as ever defied +High Olympus, but vainly for strength +His compassionate heart shook a frame +Stricken rigid to ice all its length. +On amain the black traveller came. +Lo, a chariot, cleaving the storm, +Clove the fountaining lake with a plough, +And the lord of the steeds was in form +He, the God of implacable brow, +Darkness: he: he in person: he raged +Through the wave like a boar of the wilds +From the hunters and hounds disengaged, +And a name shouted hoarsely: his child's. +Horror melted in anguish to hear. +Lo, the wave hissed apart for the path +Of the terrible Charioteer, +With the foam and torn features of wrath, +Hurled aloft on each arm in a sheet; +And the steeds clove it, rushing at land +Like the teeth of the famished at meat. +Then he swept out his hand. + +XI + +This, no more, doth Callistes recall: +He saw, ere he dropped in swoon, +On the maiden the chariot fall, +As a thundercloud swings on the moon. +Forth, free of the deluge, one cry +From the vanishing gallop rose clear: +And: Skiegeneia! the sky +Rang; Skiegeneia! the sphere. +And she left him therewith, to rejoice, +Repine, yearn, and know not his aim, +The life of their day in her voice, +Left her life in her name. + +XII + +Now the valley in ruin of fields +And fair meadowland, showing at eve +Like the spear-pitted warrior's shields +After battle, bade men believe +That no other than wrathfullest God +Had been loose on her beautiful breast, +Where the flowery grass was clod, +Wheat and vine as a trailing nest. +The valley, discreet in grief, +Disclosed but the open truth, +And Enna had hope of the sheaf: +There was none for the desolate youth +Devoted to mourn and to crave. +Of the secret he had divined +Of his friend of a day would he rave: +How for light of our earth she pined: +For the olive, the vine and the wheat, +Burning through with inherited fire: +And when Mother went Mother to meet, +She was prompted by simple desire +In the day-destined car to have place +At the skirts of the Goddess, unseen, +And be drawn to the dear earth's face. +She was fire for the blue and the green +Of our earth, dark fire; athirst +As a seed of her bosom for dawn, +White air that had robed and nursed +Her mother. Now was she gone +With the Silent, the God without tear, +Like a bud peeping out of its sheath +To be sundered and stamped with the sere. +And Callistes to her beneath, +As she to our beams, extinct, +Strained arms: he was shade of her shade. +In division so were they linked. +But the song which had betrayed +Her flight to the cavernous ear +For its own keenly wakeful: that song +Of the sowing and reaping, and cheer +Of the husbandman's heart made strong +Through droughts and deluging rains +With his faith in the Great Mother's love: +O the joy of the breath she sustains, +And the lyre of the light above, +And the first rapt vision of Good, +And the fresh young sense of Sweet: +That song the youth ever pursued +In the track of her footing fleet. +For men to be profited much +By her day upon earth did he sing: +Of her voice, and her steps, and her touch +On the blossoms of tender Spring, +Immortal: and how in her soul +She is with them, and tearless abides, +Folding grain of a love for one goal +In patience, past flowing of tides. +And if unto him she was tears, +He wept not: he wasted within: +Seeming sane in the song, to his peers, +Only crazed where the cravings begin. +Our Lady of Gifts prized he less +Than her issue in darkness: the dim +Lost Skiegencia's caress +Of our earth made it richest for him. +And for that was a curse on him raised, +And he withered rathe, dry to his prime, +Though the bounteous Giver be praised +Through the island with rites of old time +Exceedingly fervent, and reaped +Veneration for teachings devout, +Pious hymns when the corn-sheaves are heaped +And the wine-presses ruddily spout, +And the olive and apple are juice +At a touch light as hers lost below. +Whatsoever to men is of use +Sprang his worship of them who bestow, +In a measure of songs unexcelled: +But that soul loving earth and the sun +From her home of the shadows he held +For his beacon where beam there is none: +And to join her, or have her brought back, +In his frenzy the singer would call, +Till he followed where never was track, +On the path trod of all. + + + +THE LARK ASCENDING + + + +He rises and begins to round, +He drops the silver chain of sound, +Of many links without a break, +In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake, +All intervolved and spreading wide, +Like water-dimples down a tide +Where ripple ripple overcurls +And eddy into eddy whirls; +A press of hurried notes that run +So fleet they scarce are more than one, +Yet changeingly the trills repeat +And linger ringing while they fleet, +Sweet to the quick o' the ear, and dear +To her beyond the handmaid ear, +Who sits beside our inner springs, +Too often dry for this he brings, +Which seems the very jet of earth +At sight of sun, her music's mirth, +As up he wings the spiral stair, +A song of light, and pierces air +With fountain ardour, fountain play, +To reach the shining tops of day, +And drink in everything discerned +An ecstasy to music turned, +Impelled by what his happy bill +Disperses; drinking, showering still, +Unthinking save that he may give +His voice the outlet, there to live +Renewed in endless notes of glee, +So thirsty of his voice is he, +For all to hear and all to know +That he is joy, awake, aglow; +The tumult of the heart to hear +Through pureness filtered crystal-clear, +And know the pleasure sprinkled bright +By simple singing of delight; +Shrill, irreflective, unrestrained, +Rapt, ringing, on the jet sustained +Without a break, without a fall, +Sweet-silvery, sheer lyrical, +Perennial, quavering up the chord +Like myriad dews of sunny sward +That trembling into fulness shine, +And sparkle dropping argentine; +Such wooing as the ear receives +From zephyr caught in choric leaves +Of aspens when their chattering net +Is flushed to white with shivers wet; +And such the water-spirit's chime +On mountain heights in morning's prime, +Too freshly sweet to seem excess, +Too animate to need a stress; +But wider over many heads +The starry voice ascending spreads, +Awakening, as it waxes thin, +The best in us to him akin; +And every face to watch him raised, +Puts on the light of children praised; +So rich our human pleasure ripes +When sweetness on sincereness pipes, +Though nought be promised from the seas, +But only a soft-ruffling breeze +Sweep glittering on a still content, +Serenity in ravishment +For singing till his heaven fills, +'Tis love of earth that he instils, +And ever winging up and up, +Our valley is his golden cup, +And he the wine which overflows +To lift us with him as he goes: +The woods and brooks, the sheep and kine, +He is, the hills, the human line, +The meadows green, the fallows brown, +The dreams of labour in the town; +He sings the sap, the quickened veins; +The wedding song of sun and rains +He is, the dance of children, thanks +Of sowers, shout of primrose-banks, +And eye of violets while they breathe; +All these the circling song will wreathe, +And you shall hear the herb and tree, +The better heart of men shall see, +Shall feel celestially, as long +As you crave nothing save the song. + +Was never voice of ours could say +Our inmost in the sweetest way, +Like yonder voice aloft, and link +All hearers in the song they drink. +Our wisdom speaks from failing blood, +Our passion is too full in flood, +We want the key of his wild note +Of truthful in a tuneful throat; +The song seraphically free +Of taint of personality, +So pure that it salutes the suns +The voice of one for millions, +In whom the millions rejoice +For giving their one spirit voice. +Yet men have we, whom we revere, +Now names, and men still housing here, +Whose lives, by many a battle-dint +Defaced, and grinding wheels on flint, +Yield substance, though they sing not, sweet +For song our highest heaven to greet: +Whom heavenly singing gives us new, +Enspheres them brilliant in our blue, +From firmest base to farthest leap, +Because their love of Earth is deep, +And they are warriors in accord +With life to serve, and, pass reward, +So touching purest and so heard +In the brain's reflex of yon bird: +Wherefore their soul in me, or mine, +Through self-forgetfulness divine, +In them, that song aloft maintains, +To fill the sky and thrill the plains +With showerings drawn from human stores, +As he to silence nearer soars, +Extends the world at wings and dome, +More spacious making more our home, +Till lost on his aerial rings +In light, and then the fancy sings. + + + +PHOEBUS WITH ADMETUS + + + +I + +When by Zeus relenting the mandate was revoked, +Sentencing to exile the bright Sun-God, +Mindful were the ploughmen of who the steer had yoked, +Who: and what a track showed the upturned sod! +Mindful were the shepherds, as now the noon severe +Bent a burning eyebrow to brown evetide, +How the rustic flute drew the silver to the sphere, +Sister of his own, till her rays fell wide. +God! of whom music +And song and blood are pure, +The day is never darkened +That had thee here obscure. + +II + +Chirping none, the scarlet cicadas crouched in ranks: +Slack the thistle-head piled its down-silk grey: +Scarce the stony lizard sucked hollows in his flanks: +Thick on spots of umbrage our drowsed flocks lay. +Sudden bowed the chestnuts beneath a wind unheard, +Lengthened ran the grasses, the sky grew slate: +Then amid a swift flight of winged seed white as curd, +Clear of limb a Youth smote the master's gate. +God! of whom music +And song and blood are pure, +The day is never darkened +That had thee here obscure. + +III + +Water, first of singers, o'er rocky mount and mead, +First of earthly singers, the sun-loved rill, +Sang of him, and flooded the ripples on the reed, +Seeking whom to waken and what ear fill. +Water, sweetest soother to kiss a wound and cool, +Sweetest and divinest, the sky-born brook, +Chuckled, with a whimper, and made a mirror-pool +Round the guest we welcomed, the strange hand shook. +God! of whom music +And song and blood are pure, +The day is never darkened +That had thee here obscure. + +IV + +Many swarms of wild bees descended on our fields: +Stately stood the wheatstalk with head bent high: +Big of heart we laboured at storing mighty yields, +Wool and corn, and clusters to make men cry! +Hand-like rushed the vintage; we strung the bellied skins +Plump, and at the sealing the Youth's voice rose: +Maidens clung in circle, on little fists their chins; +Gentle beasties through pushed a cold long nose. +God! of whom music +And song and blood are pure, +The day is never darkened +That had thee here obscure. + +V + +Foot to fire in snowtime we trimmed the slender shaft: +Often down the pit spied the lean wolf's teeth +Grin against his will, trapped by masterstrokes of craft; +Helpless in his froth-wrath as green logs seethe! +Safe the tender lambs tugged the teats, and winter sped +Whirled before the crocus, the year's new gold. +Hung the hooky beak up aloft, the arrowhead +Reddened through his feathers for our dear fold. +God! of whom music +And song and blood are pure, +The day is never darkened +That had thee here obscure. + +VI + +Tales we drank of giants at war with Gods above: +Rocks were they to look on, and earth climbed air! +Tales of search for simples, and those who sought of love +Ease because the creature was all too fair. +Pleasant ran our thinking that while our work was good, +Sure as fruits for sweat would the praise come fast. +He that wrestled stoutest and tamed the billow-brood +Danced in rings with girls, like a sail-flapped mast. +God! of whom music +And song and blood are pure, +The day is never darkened +That had thee here obscure. + +VII + +Lo, the herb of healing, when once the herb is known, +Shines in shady woods bright as new-sprung flame. +Ere the string was tightened we heard the mellow tone, +After he had taught how the sweet sounds came +Stretched about his feet, labour done, 'twas as you see +Red pomegranates tumble and burst hard rind. +So began contention to give delight and be +Excellent in things aimed to make life kind. +God! of whom music +And song and blood are pure, +The day is never darkened +That had thee here obscure. + +VIII + +You with shelly horns, rams! and, promontory goats, +You whose browsing beards dip in coldest dew! +Bulls, that walk the pastures in kingly-flashing coats! +Laurel, ivy, vine, wreathed for feasts not few! +You that build the shade-roof, and you that court the rays, +You that leap besprinkling the rock stream-rent: +He has been our fellow, the morning of our days! +Us he chose for housemates, and this way went. +God! of whom music +And song and blood are pure, +The day is never darkened +That had thee here obscure. + + + +MELAMPUS + + + +I + +With love exceeding a simple love of the things +That glide in grasses and rubble of woody wreck; +Or change their perch on a beat of quivering wings +From branch to branch, only restful to pipe and peck; +Or, bristled, curl at a touch their snouts in a ball; +Or cast their web between bramble and thorny hook; +The good physician Melampus, loving them all, +Among them walked, as a scholar who reads a book. + +II + +For him the woods were a home and gave him the key +Of knowledge, thirst for their treasures in herbs and flowers. +The secrets held by the creatures nearer than we +To earth he sought, and the link of their life with ours: +And where alike we are, unlike where, and the veined +Division, veined parallel, of a blood that flows +In them, in us, from the source by man unattained +Save marks he well what the mystical woods disclose. + +III + +And this he deemed might be boon of love to a breast +Embracing tenderly each little motive shape, +The prone, the flitting, who seek their food whither best +Their wits direct, whither best from their foes escape. +For closer drawn to our mother's natural milk, +As babes they learn where her motherly help is great: +They know the juice for the honey, juice for the silk, +And need they medical antidotes, find them straight. + +IV + +Of earth and sun they are wise, they nourish their broods, +Weave, build, hive, burrow and battle, take joy and pain +Like swimmers varying billows: never in woods +Runs white insanity fleeing itself: all sane +The woods revolve: as the tree its shadowing limns +To some resemblance in motion, the rooted life +Restrains disorder: you hear the primitive hymns +Of earth in woods issue wild of the web of strife. + +V + +Now sleeping once on a day of marvellous fire, +A brood of snakes he had cherished in grave regret +That death his people had dealt their dam and their sire, +Through savage dread of them, crept to his neck, and set +Their tongues to lick him: the swift affectionate tongue +Of each ran licking the slumberer: then his ears +A forked red tongue tickled shrewdly: sudden upsprung, +He heard a voice piping: Ay, for he has no fears! + +VI + +A bird said that, in the notes of birds, and the speech +Of men, it seemed: and another renewed: He moves +To learn and not to pursue, he gathers to teach; +He feeds his young as do we, and as we love loves. +No fears have I of a man who goes with his head +To earth, chance looking aloft at us, kind of hand: +I feel to him as to earth of whom we are fed; +I pipe him much for his good could he understand. + +VII + +Melampus touched at his ears, laid finger on wrist +He was not dreaming, he sensibly felt and heard. +Above, through leaves, where the tree-twigs inter-twist, +He spied the birds and the bill of the speaking bird. +His cushion mosses in shades of various green, +The lumped, the antlered, he pressed, while the sunny snake +Slipped under: draughts he had drunk of clear Hippocrene, +It seemed, and sat with a gift of the Gods awake. + +VIII + +Divinely thrilled was the man, exultingly full, +As quick well-waters that come of the heart of earth, +Ere yet they dart in a brook are one bubble-pool +To light and sound, wedding both at the leap of birth. +The soul of light vivid shone, a stream within stream; +The soul of sound from a musical shell outflew; +Where others hear but a hum and see but a beam, +The tongue and eye of the fountain of life he knew. + +IX + +He knew the Hours: they were round him, laden with seed +Of hours bestrewn upon vapour, and one by one +They winged as ripened in fruit the burden decreed +For each to scatter; they flushed like the buds in sun, +Bequeathing seed to successive similar rings, +Their sisters, bearers to men of what men have earned: +He knew them, talked with the yet unreddened; the stings, +The sweets, they warmed at their bosoms divined, discerned. + +X + +Not unsolicited, sought by diligent feet, +By riddling fingers expanded, oft watched in growth +With brooding deep as the noon-ray's quickening wheat, +Ere touch'd, the pendulous flower of the plants of sloth, +The plants of rigidness, answered question and squeeze, +Revealing wherefore it bloomed, uninviting, bent, +Yet making harmony breathe of life and disease, +The deeper chord of a wonderful instrument. + +XI + +So passed he luminous-eyed for earth and the fates +We arm to bruise or caress us: his ears were charged +With tones of love in a whirl of voluble hates, +With music wrought of distraction his heart enlarged. +Celestial-shining, though mortal, singer, though mute, +He drew the Master of harmonies, voiced or stilled, +To seek him; heard at the silent medicine-root +A song, beheld in fulfilment the unfulfilled. + +XII + +Him Phoebus, lending to darkness colour and form +Of light's excess, many lessons and counsels gave, +Showed Wisdom lord of the human intricate swarm, +And whence prophetic it looks on the hives that rave, +And how acquired, of the zeal of love to acquire, +And where it stands, in the centre of life a sphere; +And Measure, mood of the lyre, the rapturous lyre, +He said was Wisdom, and struck him the notes to hear. + +XIII + +Sweet, sweet: 'twas glory of vision, honey, the breeze +In heat, the run of the river on root and stone, +All senses joined, as the sister Pierides +Are one, uplifting their chorus, the Nine, his own. +In stately order, evolved of sound into sight, +From sight to sound intershifting, the man descried +The growths of earth, his adored, like day out of night, +Ascend in song, seeing nature and song allied. + +XIV + +And there vitality, there, there solely in song, +Resides, where earth and her uses to men, their needs, +Their forceful cravings, the theme are: there is it strong, +The Master said: and the studious eye that reads, +(Yea, even as earth to the crown of Gods on the mount), +In links divine with the lyrical tongue is bound. +Pursue thy craft: it is music drawn of a fount +To spring perennial; well-spring is common ground. + +XV + +Melampus dwelt among men: physician and sage, +He served them, loving them, healing them; sick or maimed, +Or them that frenzied in some delirious rage +Outran the measure, his juice of the woods reclaimed. +He played on men, as his master, Phoebus, on strings +Melodious: as the God did he drive and check, +Through love exceeding a simple love of the things +That glide in grasses and rubble of woody wreck. + + + +LOVE IN THE VALLEY + + + +Under yonder beech-tree single on the greensward, +Couched with her arms behind her golden head, +Knees and tresses folded to slip and ripple idly, +Lies my young love sleeping in the shade. +Had I the heart to slide an arm beneath her, +Press her parting lips as her waist I gather slow, +Waking in amazement she could not but embrace me: +Then would she hold me and never let me go? + +* * * + +Shy as the squirrel and wayward as the swallow, +Swift as the swallow along the river's light +Circleting the surface to meet his mirrored winglets, +Fleeter she seems in her stay than in her flight. +Shy as the squirrel that leaps among the pine-tops, +Wayward as the swallow overhead at set of sun, +She whom I love is hard to catch and conquer, +Hard, but O the glory of the winning were she won! + +* * * + +When her mother tends her before the laughing mirror, +Tying up her laces, looping up her hair, +Often she thinks, were this wild thing wedded, +More love should I have, and much less care. +When her mother tends her before the lighted mirror, +Loosening her laces, combing down her curls, +Often she thinks, were this wild thing wedded, +I should miss but one for the many boys and girls. + +* * * + +Heartless she is as the shadow in the meadows +Flying to the hills on a blue and breezy noon. +No, she is athirst and drinking up her wonder: +Earth to her is young as the slip of the new moon. +Deals she an unkindness, 'tis but her rapid measure, +Even as in a dance; and her smile can heal no less: +Like the swinging May-cloud that pelts the flowers with hailstones +Off a sunny border, she was made to bruise and bless. + +* * * + +Lovely are the curves of the white owl sweeping +Wavy in the dusk lit by one large star. +Lone on the fir-branch, his rattle-note unvaried, +Brooding o'er the gloom, spins the brown eve-jar. +Darker grows the valley, more and more forgetting: +So were it with me if forgetting could be willed. +Tell the grassy hollow that holds the bubbling well-spring, +Tell it to forget the source that keeps it filled. + +* * * + +Stepping down the hill with her fair companions, +Arm in arm, all against the raying West, +Boldly she sings, to the merry tune she marches, +Brave in her shape, and sweeter unpossessed. +Sweeter, for she is what my heart first awaking +Whispered the world was; morning light is she. +Love that so desires would fain keep her changeless; +Fain would fling the net, and fain have her free. + +* * * + +Happy happy time, when the white star hovers +Low over dim fields fresh with bloomy dew, +Near the face of dawn, that draws athwart the darkness, +Threading it with colour, like yewberries the yew. +Thicker crowd the shades as the grave East deepens +Glowing, and with crimson a long cloud swells. +Maiden still the morn is; and strange she is, and secret; +Strange her eyes; her cheeks are cold as cold sea-shells. + +* * * + +Sunrays, leaning on our southern hills and lighting +Wild cloud-mountains that drag the hills along, +Oft ends the day of your shifting brilliant laughter +Chill as a dull face frowning on a song. +Ay, but shows the South-west a ripple-feathered bosom +Blown to silver while the clouds are shaken and ascend +Scaling the mid-heavens as they stream, there comes a sunset +Rich, deep like love in beauty without end. + +* * * + +When at dawn she sighs, and like an infant to the window +Turns grave eyes craving light, released from dreams, +Beautiful she looks, like a white water-lily +Bursting out of bud in havens of the streams. +When from bed she rises clothed from neck to ankle +In her long nightgown sweet as boughs of May, +Beautiful she looks, like a tall garden lily +Pure from the night, and splendid for the day. + +* * * + +Mother of the dews, dark eye-lashed twilight, +Low-lidded twilight, o'er the valley's brim, +Rounding on thy breast sings the dew-delighted skylark, +Clear as though the dewdrops had their voice in him. +Hidden where the rose-flush drinks the rayless planet, +Fountain-full he pours the spraying fountain-showers. +Let me hear her laughter, I would have her ever +Cool as dew in twilight, the lark above the flowers. + +* * * + +All the girls are out with their baskets for the primrose; +Up lanes, woods through, they troop in joyful bands. +My sweet leads: she knows not why, but now she loiters, +Eyes bent anemones, and hangs her hands. +Such a look will tell that the violets are peeping, +Coming the rose: and unaware a cry +Springs in her bosom for odours and for colour, +Covert and the nightingale; she knows not why. + +* * * + +Kerchiefed head and chin, she darts between her tulips, +Streaming like a willow grey in arrowy rain: +Some bend beaten cheek to gravel, and their angel +She will be; she lifts them, and on she speeds again. +Black the driving raincloud breasts the iron gate-way: +She is forth to cheer a neighbour lacking mirth. +So when sky and grass met rolling dumb for thunder, +Saw I once a white dove, sole light of earth. + +* * * + +Prim little scholars are the flowers of her garden, +Trained to stand in rows, and asking if they please. +I might love them well but for loving more the wild ones. +O my wild ones! they tell me more than these. +You, my wild one, you tell of honied field-rose, +Violet, blushing eglantine in life; and even as they, +They by the wayside are earnest of your goodness, +You are of life's, on the banks that line the way. + +* * * + +Peering at her chamber the white crowns the red rose, +Jasmine winds the porch with stars two and three. +Parted is the window; she sleeps; the starry jasmine +Breathes a falling breath that carries thoughts of me. +Sweeter unpossessed, have I said of her my sweetest +Not while she sleeps: while she sleeps the jasmine breathes, +Luring her to love; she sleeps; the starry jasmine +Bears me to her pillow under white rose-wreaths. + +* * * + +Yellow with birdfoot-trefoil are the grass-glades; +Yellow with cinquefoil of the dew-grey leaf: +Yellow with stonecrop; the moss-mounds are yellow; +Blue-necked the wheat sways, yellowing to the sheaf. +Green-yellow, bursts from the copse the laughing yaffle; +Sharp as a sickle is the edge of shade and shine: +Earth in her heart laughs looking at the heavens, +Thinking of the harvest: I look and think of mine. + +* * * + +This I may know: her dressing and undressing +Such a change of light shows as when the skies in sport +Shift from cloud to moonlight; or edging over thunder +Slips a ray of sun; or sweeping into port +White sails furl; or on the ocean borders +White sails lean along the waves leaping green. +Visions of her shower before me, but from eyesight +Guarded she would be like the sun were she seen. + +* * * + +Front door and back of the mossed old farmhouse +Open with the morn, and in a breezy link +Freshly sparkles garden to stripe-shadowed orchard, +Green across a rill where on sand the minnows wink. +Busy in the grass the early sun of summer +Swarms, and the blackbird's mellow fluting notes +Call my darling up with round and roguish challenge: +Quaintest, richest carol of all the singing throats! + +* * * + +Cool was the woodside; cool as her white dairy +Keeping sweet the cream-pan; and there the boys from school, +Cricketing below, rushed brown and red with sunshine; +O the dark translucence of the deep-eyed cool! +Spying from the farm, herself she fetched a pitcher +Full of milk, and tilted for each in turn the beak. +Then a little fellow, mouth up and on tiptoe, +Said, 'I will kiss you': she laughed and leaned her cheek. + +* * * + +Doves of the fir-wood walling high our red roof +Through the long noon coo, crooning through the coo. +Loose droop the leaves, and down the sleepy road-way +Sometimes pipes a chaffinch; loose droops the blue. +Cows flap a slow tail knee-deep in the river, +Breathless, given up to sun and gnat and fly. +Nowhere is she seen; and if I see her nowhere, +Lightning may come, straight rains and tiger sky. + +* * * + +O the golden sheaf, the rustling treasure-armful! +O the nutbrown tresses nodding interlaced! +O the treasure-tresses one another over +Nodding! O the girdle slack about the waist! +Slain are the poppies that shot their random scarlet +Quick amid the wheatears: wound about the waist, +Gathered, see these brides of earth one blush of ripeness! +O the nutbrown tresses nodding interlaced! + +* * * + +Large and smoky red the sun's cold disk drops, +Clipped by naked hills, on violet shaded snow: +Eastward large and still lights up a bower of moon-rise, +Whence at her leisure steps the moon aglow. +Nightlong on black print-branches our beech-tree +Gazes in this whiteness: nightlong could I. +Here may life on death or death on life be painted. +Let me clasp her soul to know she cannot die! + +* * * + +Gossips count her faults; they scour a narrow chamber +Where there is no window, read not heaven or her. +'When she was a tiny,' one aged woman quavers, +Plucks at my heart and leads me by the ear. +Faults she had once as she learnt to run and tumbled: +Faults of feature some see, beauty not complete. +Yet, good gossips, beauty that makes holy +Earth and air, may have faults from head to feet. + +* * * + +Hither she comes; she comes to me; she lingers, +Deepens her brown eyebrows, while in new surprise +High rise the lashes in wonder of a stranger; +Yet am I the light and living of her eyes. +Something friends have told her fills her heart to brimming, +Nets her in her blushes, and wounds her, and tames. - +Sure of her haven, O like a dove alighting, +Arms up, she dropped: our souls were in our names. + +* * * + +Soon will she lie like a white-frost sunrise. +Yellow oats and brown wheat, barley pale as rye, +Long since your sheaves have yielded to the thresher, +Felt the girdle loosened, seen the tresses fly. +Soon will she lie like a blood-red sunset. +Swift with the to-morrow, green-winged Spring! +Sing from the South-west, bring her back the truants, +Nightingale and swallow, song and dipping wing. + +* * * + +Soft new beech-leaves, up to beamy April +Spreading bough on bough a primrose mountain, you +Lucid in the moon, raise lilies to the skyfields, +Youngest green transfused in silver shining through: +Fairer than the lily, than the wild white cherry: +Fair as in image my seraph love appears +Borne to me by dreams when dawn is at my eye-lids: +Fair as in the flesh she swims to me on tears. + +* * * + +Could I find a place to be alone with heaven, +I would speak my heart out: heaven is my need. +Every woodland tree is flushing like the dogwood, +Flashing like the whitebeam, swaying like the reed. +Flushing like the dogwood crimson in October; +Streaming like the flag-reed South-west blown; +Flashing as in gusts the sudden-lighted whitebeam: +All seem to know what is for heaven alone. + + + +THE THREE SINGERS TO YOUNG BLOOD + + + +Carols nature, counsel men. +Different notes as rook from wren +Hear we when our steps begin, +And the choice is cast within, +Where a robber raven's tale +Urges passion's nightingale. + +Hark to the three. Chimed they in one, +Life were music of the sun. +Liquid first, and then the caw, +Then the cry that knows not law. + +I + +As the birds do, so do we, +Bill our mate, and choose our tree. +Swift to building work addressed, +Any straw will help a nest. +Mates are warm, and this is truth, +Glad the young that come of youth. +They have bloom i' the blood and sap +Chilling at no thunder-clap. +Man and woman on the thorn +Trust not Earth, and have her scorn. +They who in her lead confide, +Wither me if they spread not wide! +Look for aid to little things, +You will get them quick as wings, +Thick as feathers; would you feed, +Take the leap that springs the need. + +II + +Contemplate the rutted road: +Life is both a lure and goad. +Each to hold in measure just, +Trample appetite to dust. +Mark the fool and wanton spin: +Keep to harness as a skin. +Ere you follow nature's lead, +Of her powers in you have heed; +Else a shiverer you will find +You have challenged humankind. +Mates are chosen marketwise: +Coolest bargainer best buys. +Leap not, nor let leap the heart: +Trot your track, and drag your cart. +So your end may be in wool, +Honoured, and with manger full. + +III + +O the rosy light! it fleets, +Dearer dying than all sweets. +That is life: it waves and goes; +Solely in that cherished Rose +Palpitates, or else 'tis death. +Call it love with all thy breath. +Love! it lingers: Love! it nears: +Love! O Love! the Rose appears, +Blushful, magic, reddening air. +Now the choice is on thee: dare! +Mortal seems the touch, but makes +Immortal the hand that takes. +Feel what sea within thee shames +Of its force all other claims, +Drowns them. Clasp! the world will be +Heavenly Rose to swelling sea. + + + +THE ORCHARD AND THE HEATH + + + +I chanced upon an early walk to spy +A troop of children through an orchard gate: +The boughs hung low, the grass was high; +They had but to lift hands or wait +For fruits to fill them; fruits were all their sky. + +They shouted, running on from tree to tree, +And played the game the wind plays, on and round. +'Twas visible invisible glee +Pursuing; and a fountain's sound +Of laughter spouted, pattering fresh on me. + +I could have watched them till the daylight fled, +Their pretty bower made such a light of day. +A small one tumbling sang, 'Oh! head!' +The rest to comfort her straightway +Seized on a branch and thumped down apples red. + +The tiny creature flashing through green grass, +And laughing with her feet and eyes among +Fresh apples, while a little lass +Over as o'er breeze-ripples hung: +That sight I saw, and passed as aliens pass. + +My footpath left the pleasant farms and lanes, +Soft cottage-smoke, straight cocks a-crow, gay flowers; +Beyond the wheel-ruts of the wains, +Across a heath I walked for hours, +And met its rival tenants, rays and rains. + +Still in my view mile-distant firs appeared, +When, under a patched channel-bank enriched +With foxglove whose late bells drooped seared, +Behold, a family had pitched +Their camp, and labouring the low tent upreared. + +Here, too, were many children, quick to scan +A new thing coming; swarthy cheeks, white teeth: +In many-coloured rags they ran, +Like iron runlets of the heath. +Dispersed lay broth-pot, sticks, and drinking-can. + +Three girls, with shoulders like a boat at sea +Tipped sideways by the wave (their clothing slid +From either ridge unequally), +Lean, swift and voluble, bestrid +A starting-point, unfrocked to the bent knee. + +They raced; their brothers yelled them on, and broke +In act to follow, but as one they snuffed +Wood-fumes, and by the fire that spoke +Of provender, its pale flame puffed, +And rolled athwart dwarf furzes grey-blue smoke. + +Soon on the dark edge of a ruddier gleam, +The mother-pot perusing, all, stretched flat, +Paused for its bubbling-up supreme: +A dog upright in circle sat, +And oft his nose went with the flying steam. + +I turned and looked on heaven awhile, where now +The moor-faced sunset broadened with red light; +Threw high aloft a golden bough, +And seemed the desert of the night +Far down with mellow orchards to endow. + + + +EARTH AND MAN + + + +I + +On her great venture, Man, +Earth gazes while her fingers dint the breast +Which is his well of strength, his home of rest, +And fair to scan. + +II + +More aid than that embrace, +That nourishment, she cannot give: his heart +Involves his fate; and she who urged the start +Abides the race. + +III + +For he is in the lists +Contentious with the elements, whose dower +First sprang him; for swift vultures to devour +If he desists. + +IV + +His breath of instant thirst +Is warning of a creature matched with strife, +To meet it as a bride, or let fall life +On life's accursed. + +V + +No longer forth he bounds +The lusty animal, afield to roam, +But peering in Earth's entrails, where the gnome +Strange themes propounds. + +VI + +By hunger sharply sped +To grasp at weapons ere he learns their use, +In each new ring he bears a giant's thews, +An infant's head. + +VII + +And ever that old task +Of reading what he is and whence he came, +Whither to go, finds wilder letters flame +Across her mask. + +VIII + +She hears his wailful prayer, +When now to the Invisible he raves +To rend him from her, now of his mother craves +Her calm, her care. + +IX + +The thing that shudders most +Within him is the burden of his cry. +Seen of his dread, she is to his blank eye +The eyeless Ghost. + +X + +Or sometimes she will seem +Heavenly, but her blush, soon wearing white, +Veils like a gorsebush in a web of blight, +With gold-buds dim. + +XI + +Once worshipped Prime of Powers, +She still was the Implacable: as a beast, +She struck him down and dragged him from the feast +She crowned with flowers. + +XII + +Her pomp of glorious hues, +Her revelries of ripeness, her kind smile, +Her songs, her peeping faces, lure awhile +With symbol-clues. + +XIII + +The mystery she holds +For him, inveterately he strains to see, +And sight of his obtuseness is the key +Among those folds. + +XIV + +He may entreat, aspire, +He may despair, and she has never heed. +She drinking his warm sweat will soothe his need, +Not his desire. + +XV + +She prompts him to rejoice, +Yet scares him on the threshold with the shroud. +He deems her cherishing of her best-endowed +A wanton's choice. + +XVI + +Albeit thereof he has found +Firm roadway between lustfulness and pain; +Has half transferred the battle to his brain, +From bloody ground; + +XVII + +He will not read her good, +Or wise, but with the passion Self obscures; +Through that old devil of the thousand lures, +Through that dense hood: + +XVIII + +Through terror, through distrust; +The greed to touch, to view, to have, to live: +Through all that makes of him a sensitive +Abhorring dust. + +XIX + +Behold his wormy home! +And he the wind-whipped, anywhither wave +Crazily tumbled on a shingle-grave +To waste in foam. + +XX + +Therefore the wretch inclined +Afresh to the Invisible, who, he saith, +Can raise him high: with vows of living faith +For little signs. + +XXI + +Some signs he must demand, +Some proofs of slaughtered nature; some prized few, +To satisfy the senses it is true, +And in his hand, + +XXII + +This miracle which saves +Himself, himself doth from extinction clutch, +By virtue of his worth, contrasting much +With brutes and knaves. + +XXIII + +From dust, of him abhorred, +He would be snatched by Grace discovering worth. +'Sever me from the hollowness of Earth! +Me take, dear Lord!' + +XXIV + +She hears him. Him she owes +For half her loveliness a love well won +By work that lights the shapeless and the dun, +Their common foes. + +XXV + +He builds the soaring spires, +That sing his soul in stone: of her he draws, +Though blind to her, by spelling at her laws, +Her purest fires. + +XXVI + +Through him hath she exchanged, +For the gold harvest-robes, the mural crown, +Her haggard quarry-features and thick frown +Where monsters ranged. + +XXVII + +And order, high discourse, +And decency, than which is life less dear, +She has of him: the lyre of language clear, +Love's tongue and source. + +XXVIII + +She hears him, and can hear +With glory in his gains by work achieved: +With grief for grief that is the unperceived +In her so near. + +XXIX + +If he aloft for aid +Imploring storms, her essence is the spur. +His cry to heaven is a cry to her +He would evade. + +XXX + +Not elsewhere can he tend. +Those are her rules which bid him wash foul sins; +Those her revulsions from the skull that grins +To ape his end. + +XXXI + +And her desires are those +For happiness, for lastingness, for light. +'Tis she who kindles in his haunting night +The hoped dawn-rose. + +XXXII + +Fair fountains of the dark +Daily she waves him, that his inner dream +May clasp amid the glooms a springing beam, +A quivering lark: + +XXIII + +This life and her to know +For Spirit: with awakenedness of glee +To feel stern joy her origin: not he +The child of woe. + +XXXIV + +But that the senses still +Usurp the station of their issue mind, +He would have burst the chrysalis of the blind: +As yet he will; + +XXXV + +As yet he will, she prays, +Yet will when his distempered devil of Self; - +The glutton for her fruits, the wily elf +In shifting rays; - + +XXXVI + +That captain of the scorned; +The coveter of life in soul and shell, +The fratricide, the thief, the infidel, +The hoofed and horned; - + +XXXVII + +He singularly doomed +To what he execrates and writhes to shun; - +When fire has passed him vapour to the sun, +And sun relumed, + +XXXVIII + +Then shall the horrid pall +Be lifted, and a spirit nigh divine, +'Live in thy offspring as I live in mine,' +Will hear her call. + +XXXIX + +Whence looks he on a land +Whereon his labour is a carven page; +And forth from heritage to heritage +Nought writ on sand. + +XL + +His fables of the Above, +And his gapped readings of the crown and sword, +The hell detested and the heaven adored, +The hate, the love, + +XLI + +The bright wing, the black hoof, +He shall peruse, from Reason not disjoined, +And never unfaith clamouring to be coined +To faith by proof. + +XLII + +She her just Lord may view, +Not he, her creature, till his soul has yearned +With all her gifts to reach the light discerned +Her spirit through. + +XLIIII + +Then in him time shall run +As in the hour that to young sunlight crows; +And--'If thou hast good faith it can repose,' +She tells her son. + +XLIV + +Meanwhile on him, her chief +Expression, her great word of life, looks she; +Twi-minded of him, as the waxing tree, +Or dated leaf. + + + +A BALLAD OF FAIR LADIES IN REVOLT + + + +I + +See the sweet women, friend, that lean beneath +The ever-falling fountain of green leaves +Round the white bending stem, and like a wreath +Of our most blushful flower shine trembling through, +To teach philosophers the thirst of thieves: +Is one for me? is one for you? + +II + +- Fair sirs, we give you welcome, yield you place, +And you shall choose among us which you will, +Without the idle pastime of the chase, +If to this treaty you can well agree: +To wed our cause, and its high task fulfil. +He who's for us, for him are we! + +III + +- Most gracious ladies, nigh when light has birth, +A troop of maids, brown as burnt heather-bells, +And rich with life as moss-roots breathe of earth +In the first plucking of them, past us flew +To labour, singing rustic ritornells: +Had they a cause? are they of you? + +IV + +- Sirs, they are as unthinking armies are +To thoughtful leaders, and our cause is theirs. +When they know men they know the state of war: +But now they dream like sunlight on a sea, +And deem you hold the half of happy pairs. +He who's for us, for him are we! + +V + +- Ladies, I listened to a ring of dames; +Judicial in the robe and wig; secure +As venerated portraits in their frames; +And they denounced some insurrection new +Against sound laws which keep you good and pure. +Are you of them? are they of you? + +VI + +- Sirs, they are of us, as their dress denotes, +And by as much: let them together chime: +It is an ancient bell within their throats, +Pulled by an aged ringer; with what glee +Befits the yellow yesterdays of time. +He who's for us, for him are we! + +VII + +- Sweet ladies, you with beauty, you with wit; +Dowered of all favours and all blessed things +Whereat the ruddy torch of Love is lit; +Wherefore this vain and outworn strife renew, +Which stays the tide no more than eddy-rings? +Who is for love must be for you. + +VIII + +- The manners of the market, honest sirs, +'Tis hard to quit when you behold the wares. +You flatter us, or perchance our milliners +You flatter; so this vain and outworn She +May still be the charmed snake to your soft airs! +A higher lord than Love claim we. + +IX + +- One day, dear lady, missing the broad track, +I came on a wood's border, by a mead, +Where golden May ran up to moted black: +And there I saw Queen Beauty hold review, +With Love before her throne in act to plead. +Take him for me, take her for you. + +X + +- Ingenious gentleman, the tale is known. +Love pleaded sweetly: Beauty would not melt: +She would not melt: he turned in wrath: her throne +The shadow of his back froze witheringly, +And sobbing at his feet Queen Beauty knelt. +O not such slaves of Love are we! + +XI + +- Love, lady, like the star above that lance +Of radiance flung by sunset on ridged cloud, +Sad as the last line of a brave romance! - +Young Love hung dim, yet quivering round him threw +Beams of fresh fire, while Beauty waned and bowed. +Scorn Love, and dread the doom for you. + +XII + +- Called she not for her mirror, sir? Forth ran +Her women: I am lost, she cried, when lo, +Love in the form of an admiring man +Once more in adoration bent the knee, +And brought the faded Pagan to full blow: +For which her throne she gave: not we! + +XIII + +- My version, madam, runs not to that end. +A certain madness of an hour half past, +Caught her like fever; her just lord no friend +She fancied; aimed beyond beauty, and thence grew +The prim acerbity, sweet Love's outcast. +Great heaven ward off that stroke from you! + +XIV + +- Your prayer to heaven, good sir, is generous: +How generous likewise that you do not name +Offended nature! She from all of us +Couched idle underneath our showering tree, +May quite withhold her most destructive flame; +And then what woeful women we! + +XV + +- Quite, could not be, fair lady; yet your youth +May run to drought in visionary schemes: +And a late waking to perceive the truth, +When day falls shrouding her supreme adieu, +Shows darker wastes than unaccomplished dreams: +And that may be in store for you. + +XVI + +- O sir, the truth, the truth! is't in the skies, +Or in the grass, or in this heart of ours? +But O the truth, the truth! the many eyes +That look on it! the diverse things they see, +According to their thirst for fruit or flowers! +Pass on: it is the truth seek we. + +XVII + +- Lady, there is a truth of settled laws +That down the past burns like a great watch-fire. +Let youth hail changeful mornings; but your cause, +Whetting its edge to cut the race in two, +Is felony: you forfeit the bright lyre, +Much honour and much glory you! + +XVIII + +- Sir, was it glory, was it honour, pride, +And not as cat and serpent and poor slave, +Wherewith we walked in union by your side? +Spare to false womanliness her delicacy, +Or bid true manliness give ear, we crave: +In our defence thus chained are we. + +XIX + +- Yours, madam, were the privileges of life +Proper to man's ideal; you were the mark +Of action, and the banner in the strife: +Yea, of your very weakness once you drew +The strength that sounds the wells, outflies the lark: +Wrapped in a robe of flame were you! + +XX + +- Your friend looks thoughtful. Sir, when we were chill, +You clothed us warmly; all in honour! when +We starved you fed us; all in honour still: +Oh, all in honour, ultra-honourably! +Deep is the gratitude we owe to men, +For privileged indeed were we! + +XXI + +- You cite exceptions, madam, that are sad, +But come in the red struggle of our growth. +Alas, that I should have to say it! bad +Is two-sexed upon earth: this which you do, +Shows animal impatience, mental sloth: +Man monstrous! pining seraphs you! + +XXII + +- I fain would ask your friend . . . but I will ask +You, sir, how if in place of numbers vague, +Your sad exceptions were to break that mask +They wear for your cool mind historically, +And blaze like black lists of a PRESENT plague? +But in that light behold them we. + +XXIII + +- Your spirit breathes a mist upon our world, +Lady, and like a rain to pierce the roof +And drench the bed where toil-tossed man lies curled +In his hard-earned oblivion! You are few, +Scattered, ill-counselled, blinded: for a proof, +I have lived, and have known none like you. + +XXIV + +- We may be blind to men, sir: we embrace +A future now beyond the fowler's nets. +Though few, we hold a promise for the race +That was not at our rising: you are free +To win brave mates; you lose but marionnettes. +He who's for us, for him are we. + +XXV + +- Ah! madam, were they puppets who withstood +Youth's cravings for adventure to preserve +The dedicated ways of womanhood? +The light which leads us from the paths of rue, +That light above us, never seen to swerve, +Should be the home-lamp trimmed by you. + +XXVI + +- Ah! sir, our worshipped posture we perchance +Shall not abandon, though we see not how, +Being to that lamp-post fixed, we may advance +Beside our lords in any real degree, +Unless we move: and to advance is now +A sovereign need, think more than we. + +XXVII + +- So push you out of harbour in small craft, +With little seamanship; and comes a gale, +The world will laugh, the world has often laughed, +Lady, to see how bold when skies are blue, +When black winds churn the deeps how panic-pale, +How swift to the old nest fly you! + +XXVIII + +- What thinks your friend, kind sir? We have escaped +But partly that old half-tamed wild beast's paw +Whereunder woman, the weak thing, was shaped: +Men, too, have known the cramping enemy +In grim brute force, whom force of brain shall awe: +Him our deliverer, await we! + +XXIX + +- Delusions are with eloquence endowed, +And yours might pluck an angel from the spheres +To play in this revolt whereto you are vowed, +Deliverer, lady! but like summer dew +O'er fields that crack for rain your friends drop tears, +Who see the awakening for you. + +XXX + +- Is he our friend, there silent? he weeps not. +O sir, delusion mounting like a sun +On a mind blank as the white wife of Lot, +Giving it warmth and movement! if this be +Delusion, think of what thereby was won +For men, and dream of what win we. + +XXXI + +- Lady, the destiny of minor powers, +Who would recast us, is but to convulse: +You enter on a strife that frets and sours; +You can but win sick disappointment's hue; +And simply an accelerated pulse, +Some tonic you have drunk moves you. + +XXXII + +- Thinks your friend so? Good sir, your wit is bright; +But wit that strives to speak the popular voice, +Puts on its nightcap and puts out its light. +Curfew, would seem your conqueror's decree +To women likewise: and we have no choice +Save darkness or rebellion, we! + +XXXIII + +- A plain safe intermediate way is cleft +By reason foiling passion: you that rave +Of mad alternatives to right and left +Echo the tempter, madam: and 'tis due +Unto your sex to shun it as the grave, +This later apple offered you. + +XXXIV + +- This apple is not ripe, it is not sweet; +Nor rosy, sir, nor golden: eye and mouth +Are little wooed by it; yet we would eat. +We are somewhat tired of Eden, is our plea. +We have thirsted long; this apple suits our drouth: +'Tis good for men to halve, think we. + +XXXV + +- But say, what seek you, madam? 'Tis enough +That you should have dominion o'er the springs +Domestic and man's heart: those ways, how rough, +How vile, outside the stately avenue +Where you walk sheltered by your angel's wings, +Are happily unknown to you. + +XXXVI + +- We hear women's shrieks on them. We like your phrase, +Dominion domestic! And that roar, +'What seek you?' is of tyrants in all days. +Sir, get you something of our purity +And we will of your strength: we ask no more. +That is the sum of what seek we. + +XXXVII + +- O for an image, madam, in one word, +To show you as the lightning night reveals, +Your error and your perils: you have erred +In mind only, and the perils that ensue +Swift heels may soften; wherefore to swift heels +Address your hopes of safety you! + +XXXVIII + +- To err in mind, sir . . . your friend smiles: he may! +To err in mind, if err in mind we can, +Is grievous error you do well to stay. +But O how different from reality +Men's fiction is! how like you in the plan, +Is woman, knew you her as we! + +XXXIX + +- Look, lady, where yon river winds its line +Toward sunset, and receives on breast and face +The splendour of fair life: to be divine, +'Tis nature bids you be to nature true, +Flowing with beauty, lending earth your grace, +Reflecting heaven in clearness you. + +XL + +- Sir, you speak well: your friend no word vouchsafes. +To flow with beauty, breeding fools and worse, +Cowards and worse: at such fair life she chafes, +Who is not wholly of the nursery, +Nor of your schools: we share the primal curse; +Together shake it off, say we! + +XLI + +- Hear, then, my friend, madam! Tongue-restrained he stands +Till words are thoughts, and thoughts, like swords enriched +With traceries of the artificer's hands, +Are fire-proved steel to cut, fair flowers to view. - +Do I hear him? Oh, he is bewitched, bewitched! +Heed him not! Traitress beauties you! + +XLII + +- We have won a champion, sisters, and a sage! +- Ladies, you win a guest to a good feast! +- Sir spokesman, sneers are weakness veiling rage. +- Of weakness, and wise men, you have the key. +- Then are there fresher mornings mounting East +Than ever yet have dawned, sing we! + +XLIII + +- False ends as false began, madam, be sure! +- What lure there is the pure cause purifies! +- Who purifies the victim of the lure? +- That soul which bids us our high light pursue. +- Some heights are measured down: the wary wise +Shun Reason in the masque with you! + +XLIV + +- Sir, for the friend you bring us, take our thanks. +Yes, Beauty was of old this barren goal; +A thing with claws; and brute-like in her pranks! +But could she give more loyal guarantee +Than wooing Wisdom, that in her a soul +Has risen? Adieu: content are we! + +XLV + +Those ladies led their captive to the flood's +Green edge. He floating with them seemed the most +Fool-flushed old noddy ever crowned with buds. +Happier than I! Then, why not wiser too? +For he that lives with Beauty, he may boast +His comrade over me and you. + +XLVI + +Have women nursed some dream since Helen sailed +Over the sea of blood the blushing star, +That beauty, whom frail man as Goddess hailed, +When not possessing her (for such is he!), +Might in a wondering season seen afar, +Be tamed to say not 'I,' but 'we'? + +XLVII + +And shall they make of Beauty their estate, +The fortress and the weapon of their sex? +Shall she in her frost-brilliancy dictate, +More queenly than of old, how we must woo, +Ere she will melt? The halter's on our necks, +Kick as it likes us, I and you. + +XLVIII + +Certain it is, if Beauty has disdained +Her ancient conquests, with an aim thus high: +If this, if that, if more, the fight is gained. +But can she keep her followers without fee? +Yet ah! to hear anew those ladies cry, +He who's for us, for him are we! + + + +THE TWO MASKS + + + +Melpomene among her livid people, +Ere stroke of lyre, upon Thaleia looks, +Warned by old contests that one museful ripple +Along those lips of rose with tendril hooks +Forebodes disturbance in the springs of pathos, +Perchance may change of masks midway demand, +Albeit the man rise mountainous as Athos, +The woman wild as Cape Leucadia stand. + +II + +For this the Comic Muse exacts of creatures +Appealing to the fount of tears: that they +Strive never to outleap our human features, +And do Right Reason's ordinance obey, +In peril of the hum to laughter nighest. +But prove they under stress of action's fire +Nobleness, to that test of Reason highest, +She bows: she waves them for the loftier lyre. + + + +ARCHDUCHESS ANNE + + + +1--I + +In middle age an evil thing +Befell Archduchess Anne: +She looked outside her wedding-ring +Upon a princely man. + +II + +Count Louis was for horse and arms; +And if its beacon waved, +For love; but ladies had not charms +To match a danger braved. + +III + +On battlefields he was the bow +Bestrung to fly the shaft: +In idle hours his heart would flow +As winds on currents waft. + +IV + +His blood was of those warrior tribes +That streamed from morning's fire, +Whom now with traps and now with bribes +The wily Council wire. + +V + +Archduchess Anne the Council ruled, +Count Louis his great dame; +And woe to both when one had cooled! +Little was she to blame. + +VI + +Among her chiefs who spun their plots, +Old Kraken stood the sword: +As sharp his wits for cutting knots +Of babble he abhorred. + +VII + +He reverenced her name and line, +Nor other merit had +Save soldierwise to wait her sign, +And do the deed she bade. + +VIII + +He saw her hand jump at her side +Ere royally she smiled +On Louis and his fair young bride +Where courtly ranks defiled. + +IX + +That was a moment when a shock +Through the procession ran, +And thrilled the plumes, and stayed the clock, +Yet smiled Archduchess Anne. + +X + +No touch gave she to hound in leash, +No wink to sword in sheath: +She seemed a woman scarce of flesh; +Above it, or beneath. + +XI + +Old Kraken spied with kennelled snarl, +His Lady deemed disgraced. +He footed as on burning marl, +When out of Hall he paced. + +XII + +'Twas seen he hammered striding legs, +And stopped, and strode again. +Now Vengeance has a brood of eggs, +But Patience must be hen. + +XIII + +Too slow are they for wrath to hatch, +Too hot for time to rear. +Old Kraken kept unwinding watch; +He marked his day appear. + +XIV + +He neighed a laugh, though moods were rough +With standards in revolt: +His nostrils took the news for snuff, +His smacking lips for salt. + +XV + +Count Louis' wavy cock's plumes led +His troops of black-haired manes, +A rebel; and old Kraken sped +To front him on the plains. + +XVI + +Then camp opposed to camp did they +Fret earth with panther claws +For signal of a bloody day, +Each reading from the Laws. + +XVII + +'Forefend it, heaven!' Count Louis cried, +'And let the righteous plead: +My country is a willing bride, +Was never slave decreed. + +XVIII + +'Not we for thirst of blood appeal +To sword and slaughter curst; +We have God's blessing on our steel, +Do we our pleading first.' + +XIX + +Count Louis, soul of chivalry, +Put trust in plighted word; +By starlight on the broad brown lea, +To bar the strife he spurred. + +XX + +Across his breast a crimson spot, +That in a quiver glowed, +The ruddy crested camp-fires shot, +As he to darkness rode. + +XXI + +He rode while omens called, beware +Old Kraken's pledge of faith! +A smile and waving hand in air, +And outward flew the wraith. + +XXII + +Before pale morn had mixed with gold, +His army roared, and chilled, +As men who have a woe foretold, +And see it red fulfilled. + +XXIII + +Away and to his young wife speed, +And say that Honour's dead! +Another word she will not need +To bow a widow's head. + +XXIV + +Old Kraken roped his white moustache +Right, left, for savage glee: +- To swing him in his soldier's sash +Were kind for such as he! + +XXV + +Old Kraken's look hard Winter wears +When sweeps the wild snow-blast: +He had the hug of Arctic bears +For captives he held fast. + +2--I + +Archduchess Anne sat carved in frost, +Shut off from priest and spouse. +Her lips were locked, her arms were crossed, +Her eyes were in her brows. + +II + +One hand enclosed a paper scroll, +Held as a strangled asp. +So may we see the woman's soul +In her dire tempter's grasp. + +III + +Along that scroll Count Louis' doom +Throbbed till the letters flamed. +She saw him in his scornful bloom, +She saw him chained and shamed. + +IV + +Around that scroll Count Louis' fate +Was acted to her stare, +And hate in love and love in hate +Fought fell to smite or spare. + +V + +Between the day that struck her old, +And this black star of days, +Her heart swung like a storm-bell tolled +Above a town ablaze. + +VI + +His beauty pressed to intercede, +His beauty served him ill. +- Not Vengeance, 'tis his rebel's deed, +'Tis Justice, not our will! + +VII + +Yet who had sprung to life's full force +A breast that loveless dried? +But who had sapped it at the source, +With scarlet to her pride! + +VIII + +He brought her waning heart as 'twere +New message from the skies. +And he betrayed, and left on her +The burden of their sighs. + +IX + +In floods her tender memories poured; +They foamed with waves of spite: +She crushed them, high her heart outsoared, +To keep her mind alight. + +X + +- The crawling creature, called in scorn +A woman!--with this pen +We sign a paper that may warn +His crowing fellowmen. + +XI + +- We read them lesson of a power +They slight who do us wrong. +That bitter hour this bitter hour +Provokes; by turns the strong! + +XII + +- That we were woman once is known: +That we are Justice now, +Above our sex, above the throne, +Men quaking shall avow. + +XIII + +Archduchess Anne ascending flew, +Her heart outsoared, but felt +The demon of her sex pursue, +Incensing or to melt. + +XIV + +Those counterfloods below at leap +Still in her breast blew storm, +And farther up the heavenly steep +Wrestled in angels' form. + +XV + +To disentangle one clear wish +Not of her sex, she sought; +And womanish to womanish +Discerned in lighted thought. + +XVI + +With Louis' chance it went not well +When at herself she raged; +A woman, of whom men might tell +She doted, crazed and aged. + +XVII + +Or else enamoured of a sweet +Withdrawn, a vengeful crone! +And say, what figure at her feet +Is this that utters moan? + +XVIII + +The Countess Louis from her head +Drew veil: 'Great Lady, hear! +My husband deems you Justice dread, +I know you Mercy dear. + +XIX + +'His error upon him may fall; +He will not breathe a nay. +I am his helpless mate in all, +Except for grace to pray. + +XX + +'Perchance on me his choice inclined, +To give his House an heir: +I had not marriage with his mind, +His counsel could not share. + +XXI + +'I brought no portion for his weal +But this one instinct true, +Which bids me in my weakness kneel, +Archduchess Anne, to you.' + +XXII + +The frowning Lady uttered, 'Forth!' +Her look forbade delay: +'It is not mine to weigh your worth; +Your husband's others weigh. + +XXIII + +'Hence with the woman in your speech,' +For nothing it avails +In woman's fashion to beseech +Where Justice holds the scales.' + +XXIV + +Then bent and went the lady wan, +Whose girlishness made grey +The thoughts that through Archduchess Anne +Shattered like stormy spray. + +XXV + +Long sat she there, as flame that strives +To hold on beating wind: +- His wife must be the fool of wives, +Or cunningly designed! + +XXVI + +She sat until the tempest-pitch +In her torn bosom fell; +- His wife must be a subtle witch +Or else God loves her well! + +3--I + +Old Kraken read a missive penned +By his great Lady's hand. +Her condescension called him friend, +To raise the crest she fanned. + +II + +Swiftly to where he lay encamped +It flew, yet breathed aloof +From woman's feeling, and he stamped +A heel more like a hoof. + +III + +She wrote of Mercy: 'She was loth +Too hard to goad a foe.' +He stamped, as when men drive an oath +Devils transcribe below. + +IV + +She wrote: 'We have him half by theft.' +His wrinkles glistened keen: +And see the Winter storm-cloud cleft +To lurid skies between! + +V + +When read old Kraken: 'Christ our Guide,' +His eyes were spikes of spar: +And see the white snow-storm divide +About an icy star! + +VI + +'She trusted him to understand,' +She wrote, and further prayed +That policy might rule the land. +Old Kraken's laughter neighed. + +VII + +Her words he took; her nods and winks +Treated as woman's fog. +The man-dog for his mistress thinks, +Not less her faithful dog. + +VIII + +She hugged a cloak old Kraken ripped; +Disguise to him he loathed. +- Your mercy, madam, shows you stripped, +While mine will keep you clothed. + +IX + +A rough ill-soldered scar in haste +He rubbed on his cheek-bone. +- Our policy the man shall taste; +Our mercy shall be shown. + +X + +'Count Louis, honour to your race +Decrees the Council-hall: +You 'scape the rope by special grace, +And like a soldier fall.' + +XI + +- I am a man of many sins, +Who for one virtue die, +Count Louis said.--They play at shins, +Who kick, was the reply. + +XII + +Uprose the day of crimson sight, +The day without a God. +At morn the hero said Good-night: +See there that stain on sod! + +XIII + +At morn the Countess Louis heard +Young light sing in the lark. +Ere eve it was that other bird, +Which brings the starless dark. + +XIV + +To heaven she vowed herself, and yearned +Beside her lord to lie. +Archduchess Anne on Kraken turned, +All white as a dead eye. + +XV + +If I could kill thee! shrieked her look: +If lightning sprang from Will! +An oaken head old Kraken shook, +And she might thank or kill. + +XVI + +The pride that fenced her heart in mail +By mortal pain was torn. +Forth from her bosom leaped a wail, +As of a babe new-born. + +XVII + +She clad herself in courtly use, +And one who heard them prate +Had said they differed upon views +Where statecraft raised debate. + +XVIII + +The wretch detested must she trust, +The servant master own: +Confide to godless cause so just, +And for God's blessing moan. + +XIX + +Austerely she her heart kept down, +Her woman's tongue was mute +When voice of People, voice of Crown, +In cannon held dispute. + +XX + +The Crown on seas of blood, like swine, +Swam forefoot at the throat: +It drank of its dear veins for wine, +Enough if it might float! + +XXI + +It sank with piteous yelp, resurged +Electrical with fear. +O had she on old Kraken urged +Her word of mercy clear! + +XXII + +O had they with Count Louis been +Accordant in his plea! +Cursed are the women vowed to screen +A heart that all can see! + +XXIII + +The godless drove unto a goal +Was worse than vile defeat. +Did vengeance prick Count Louis' soul +They dressed him luscious meat. + +XXIV + +Worms will the faithless find their lies +In the close treasure-chest. +Without a God no day can rise, +Though it should slay our best. + +XXV + +The Crown it furled a draggled flag, +It sheathed a broken blade. +Behold its triumph in the hag +That lives with looks decayed! + +XXVI + +And lo, the man of oaken head, +Of soldier's honour bare, +He fled his land, but most he fled +His Lady's frigid stare. + +XXVII + +Judged by the issue we discern +God's blessing, and the bane. +Count Louis' dust would fill an urn, +His deeds are waving grain. + +XXVIII + +And she that helped to slay, yet bade +To spare the fated man, +Great were her errors, but she had +Great heart, Archduchess Anne. + + + +THE SONG OF THEODOLINDA + + + +I + +Queen Theodolind has built +In the earth a furnace-bed: +There the Traitor Nail that spilt +Blood of the anointed Head, +Red of heat, resolves in shame: +White of heat, awakes to flame. +Beat, beat! white of heat, +Red of heat, beat, beat! + +II + +Mark the skeleton of fire +Lightening from its thunder-roof: +So comes this that saw expire +Him we love, for our behoof! +Red of heat, O white of heat, +This from off the Cross we greet. + +III + +Brown-cowled hammermen around +Nerve their naked arms to strike +Death with Resurrection crowned, +Each upon that cruel spike. +Red of heat the furnace leaps, +White of heat transfigured sleeps. + +IV + +Hard against the furnace core +Holds the Queen her streaming eyes: +Lo! that thing of piteous gore +In the lap of radiance lies, +Red of heat, as when He takes, +White of heat, whom earth forsakes. + +V + +Forth with it, and crushing ring +Iron hymns, for men to hear +Echoes of the deeds that sting +Earth into its graves, and fear! +Red of heat, He maketh thus, +White of heat, a crown of us. + +VI + +This that killed Thee, kissed Thee, Lord! +Touched Thee, and we touch it: dear, +Dark it is; adored, abhorred: +Vilest, yet most sainted here. +Red of heat, O white of heat, +In it hell and heaven meet. + +VII + +I behold our morning day +When they chased Him out with rods +Up to where this traitor lay +Thirsting; and the blood was God's! +Red of heat, it shall be pressed, +White of heat, once on my breast! + +VIII + +Quick! the reptile in me shrieks, +Not the soul. Again; the Cross +Burn there. Oh! this pain it wreaks +Rapture is: pain is not loss. +Red of heat, the tooth of Death, +White of heat, has caught my breath. + +IX + +Brand me, bite me, bitter thing! +Thus He felt, and thus I am +One with Him in suffering, +One with Him in bliss, the Lamb. +Red of heat, O white of heat, +Thus is bitterness made sweet. + +X + +Now am I, who bear that stamp +Scorched in me, the living sign +Sole on earth--the lighted lamp +Of the dreadful Day divine. +White of heat, beat on it fast! +Red of heat, its shape has passed. + +XI + +Out in angry sparks they fly, +They that sentenced Him to bleed: +Pontius and his troop: they die, +Damned for ever for the deed! +White of heat in vain they soar: +Red of heat they strew the floor. + +XII + +Fury on it! have its debt! +Thunder on the Hill accurst, +Golgotha, be ye! and sweat +Blood, and thirst the Passion's thirst. +Red of heat and white of heat, +Champ it like fierce teeth that eat. + +XIII + +Strike it as the ages crush +Towers! for while a shape is seen +I am rivalled. Quench its blush, +Devil! But it crowns me Queen, +Red of heat, as none before, +White of heat, the circlet wore. + +XIV + +Lowly I will be, and quail, +Crawling, with a beggar's hand: +On my breast the branded Nail, +On my head the iron band. +Red of heat, are none so base! +White of heat, none know such grace! + +XV + +In their heaven the sainted hosts, +Robed in violet unflecked, +Gaze on humankind as ghosts: +I draw down a ray direct. +Red of heat, across my brow, +White of heat, I touch Him now. + +XVI + +Robed in violet, robed in gold, +Robed in pearl, they make our dawn. +What am I to them? Behold +What ye are to me, and fawn. +Red of heat, be humble, ye! +White of heat, O teach it me! + +XVII + +Martyrs! hungry peaks in air, +Rent with lightnings, clad with snow, +Crowned with stars! you strip me bare, +Pierce me, shame me, stretch me low, +Red of heat, but it may be, +White of heat, some envy me! + +XVIII + +O poor enviers! God's own gifts +Have a devil for the weak. +Yea, the very force that lifts +Finds the vessel's secret leak. +Red of heat, I rise o'er all: +White of heat, I faint, I fall. + +XIX + +Those old Martyrs sloughed their pride, +Taking humbleness like mirth. +I am to His Glory tied, +I that witness Him on earth! +Red of heat, my pride of dust, +White of heat, feeds fire in trust. + +XX + +Kindle me to constant fire, +Lest the nail be but a nail! +Give me wings of great desire, +Lest I look within, and fail! +Red of heat, the furnace light, +White of heat, fix on my sight. + +XXI + +Never for the Chosen peace! +Know, by me tormented know, +Never shall the wrestling cease +Till with our outlasting Foe, +Red of heat to white of heat, +Roll we to the Godhead's feet! +Beat, beat! white of heat, +Red of heat, beat, beat! + + + +A PREACHING FROM A SPANISH BALLAD + + + +I + +Ladies who in chains of wedlock +Chafe at an unequal yoke, +Not to nightingales give hearing; +Better this, the raven's croak. + +II + +Down the Prado strolled my seigneur, +Arm at lordly bow on hip, +Fingers trimming his moustachios, +Eyes for pirate fellowship. + +III + +Home sat she that owned him master; +Like the flower bent to ground +Rain-surcharged and sun-forsaken; +Heedless of her hair unbound. + +IV + +Sudden at her feet a lover +Palpitating knelt and wooed; +Seemed a very gift from heaven +To the starved of common food. + +V + +Love me? she his vows repeated: +Fiery vows oft sung and thrummed: +Wondered, as on earth a stranger; +Thirsted, trusted, and succumbed. + +VI + +O beloved youth! my lover! +Mine! my lover! take my life +Wholly: thine in soul and body, +By this oath of more than wife! + +VII + +Know me for no helpless woman; +Nay, nor coward, though I sink +Awed beside thee, like an infant +Learning shame ere it can think. + +VIII + +Swing me hence to do thee service, +Be thy succour, prove thy shield; +Heaven will hear!--in house thy handmaid, +Squire upon the battlefield. + +IX + +At my breasts I cool thy footsoles; +Wine I pour, I dress thy meats; +Humbly, when my lord it pleaseth, +Lie with him on perfumed sheets: + +X + +Pray for him, my blood's dear fountain, +While he sleeps, and watch his yawn +In that wakening babelike moment, +Sweeter to my thought than dawn! - + +XI + +Thundered then her lord of thunders; +Burst the door, and, flashing sword, +Loud disgorged the woman's title: +Condemnation in one word. + +XII + +Grand by righteous wrath transfigured, +Towers the husband who provides +In his person judge and witness, +Death's black doorkeeper besides! + +XIII + +Round his head the ancient terrors, +Conjured of the stronger's law, +Circle, to abash the creature +Daring twist beneath his paw. + +XIV + +How though he hath squandered Honour +High of Honour let him scold: +Gilding of the man's possession, +'Tis the woman's coin of gold. + +XV + +She inheriting from many +Bleeding mothers bleeding sense +Feels 'twixt her and sharp-fanged nature +Honour first did plant the fence. + +XVI + +Nature, that so shrieks for justice; +Honour's thirst, that blood will slake; +These are women's riddles, roughly +Mixed to write them saint or snake. + +XVII + +Never nature cherished woman: +She throughout the sexes' war +Serves as temptress and betrayer, +Favouring man, the muscular. + +XVIII + +Lureful is she, bent for folly; +Doating on the child which crows: +Yours to teach him grace in fealty, +What the bloom is, what the rose. + +XIX + +Hard the task: your prison-chamber +Widens not for lifted latch +Till the giant thews and sinews +Meet their Godlike overmatch. + +XX + +Read that riddle, scorning pity's +Tears, of cockatrices shed: +When the heart is vowed for freedom, +Captaincy it yields to head. + +XXI + +Meanwhile you, freaked nature's martyrs, +Honour's army, flower and weed, +Gentle ladies, wedded ladies, +See for you this fair one bleed. + +XXII + +Sole stood her offence, she faltered; +Prayed her lord the youth to spare; +Prayed that in the orange garden +She might lie, and ceased her prayer. + +XXIII + +Then commanding to all women +Chastity, her breasts she laid +Bare unto the self-avenger. +Man in metal was the blade. + + + +THE YOUNG PRINCESS--A BALLAD OF OLD LAWS OF LOVE + + + +1--I + +When the South sang like a nightingale +Above a bower in May, +The training of Love's vine of flame +Was writ in laws, for lord and dame +To say their yea and nay. + +II + +When the South sang like a nightingale +Across the flowering night, +And lord and dame held gentle sport, +There came a young princess to Court, +A frost of beauty white. + +III + +The South sang like a nightingale +To thaw her glittering dream: +No vine of Love her bosom gave, +She drank no wine of Love, but grave +She held them to Love's theme. + +IV + +The South grew all a nightingale +Beneath a moon unmoved: +Like the banner of war she led them on; +She left them to lie, like the light that has gone +From wine-cups overproved. + +V + +When the South was a fervid nightingale, +And she a chilling moon, +'Twas pity to see on the garden swards, +Against Love's laws, those rival lords +As willow-wands lie strewn. + +VI + +The South had throat of a nightingale +For her, the young princess: +She gave no vine of Love to rear, +Love's wine drank not, yet bent her ear +To themes of Love no less. + +2--I + +The lords of the Court they sighed heart-sick, +Heart-free Lord Dusiote laughed: +I prize her no more than a fling o' the dice, +But, or shame to my manhood, a lady of ice, +We master her by craft! + +II + +Heart-sick the lords of joyance yawned, +Lord Dusiote laughed heart-free: +I count her as much as a crack o' my thumb, +But, or shame of my manhood, to me she shall come +Like the bird to roost in the tree! + +III + +At dead of night when the palace-guard +Had passed the measured rounds, +The young princess awoke to feel +A shudder of blood at the crackle of steel +Within the garden-bounds. + +IV + +It ceased, and she thought of whom was need, +The friar or the leech; +When lo, stood her tirewoman breathless by: +Lord Dusiote, madam, to death is nigh, +Of you he would have speech. + +V + +He prays you of your gentleness, +To light him to his dark end. +The princess rose, and forth she went, +For charity was her intent, +Devoutly to befriend. + +VI + +Lord Dusiote hung on his good squire's arm, +The priest beside him knelt: +A weeping handkerchief was pressed +To stay the red flood at his breast, +And bid cold ladies melt. + +VII + +O lady, though you are ice to men, +All pure to heaven as light +Within the dew within the flower, +Of you 'tis whispered that love has power +When secret is the night. + +VIII + +I have silenced the slanderers, peace to their souls! +Save one was too cunning for me. +I die, whose love is late avowed, +He lives, who boasts the lily has bowed +To the oath of a bended knee. + +IX + +Lord Dusiote drew breath with pain, +And she with pain drew breath: +On him she looked, on his like above; +She flew in the folds of a marvel of love +Revealed to pass to death. + +X + +You are dying, O great-hearted lord, +You are dying for me, she cried; +O take my hand, O take my kiss, +And take of your right for love like this, +The vow that plights me bride. + +XI + +She bade the priest recite his words +While hand in hand were they, +Lord Dusiote's soul to waft to bliss; +He had her hand, her vow, her kiss, +And his body was borne away. + +3--I + +Lord Dusiote sprang from priest and squire; +He gazed at her lighted room: +The laughter in his heart grew slack; +He knew not the force that pushed him back +From her and the morn in bloom. + +II + +Like a drowned man's length on the strong flood-tide, +Like the shade of a bird in the sun, +He fled from his lady whom he might claim +As ghost, and who made the daybeams flame +To scare what he had done. + +III + +There was grief at Court for one so gay, +Though he was a lord less keen +For training the vine than at vintage-press; +But in her soul the young princess +Believed that love had been. + +IV + +Lord Dusiote fled the Court and land, +He crossed the woeful seas, +Till his traitorous doing seemed clearer to burn, +And the lady beloved drew his heart for return, +Like the banner of war in the breeze. + +V + +He neared the palace, he spied the Court, +And music he heard, and they told +Of foreign lords arrived to bring +The nuptial gifts of a bridegroom king +To the princess grave and cold. + +VI + +The masque and the dance were cloud on wave, +And down the masque and the dance +Lord Dusiote stepped from dame to dame, +And to the young princess he came, +With a bow and a burning glance. + +VII + +Do you take a new husband to-morrow, lady? +She shrank as at prick of steel. +Must the first yield place to the second, he sighed. +Her eyes were like the grave that is wide +For the corpse from head to heel. + +VIII + +My lady, my love, that little hand +Has mine ringed fast in plight: +I bear for your lips a lawful thirst, +And as justly the second should follow the first, +I come to your door this night. + +IX + +If a ghost should come a ghost will go: +No more the lady said, +Save that ever when he in wrath began +To swear by the faith of a living man, +She answered him, You are dead. + +4--I + +The soft night-wind went laden to death +With smell of the orange in flower; +The light leaves prattled to neighbour ears; +The bird of the passion sang over his tears; +The night named hour by hour. + +II + +Sang loud, sang low the rapturous bird +Till the yellow hour was nigh, +Behind the folds of a darker cloud: +He chuckled, he sobbed, alow, aloud; +The voice between earth and sky. + +III + +O will you, will you, women are weak; +The proudest are yielding mates +For a forward foot and a tongue of fire: +So thought Lord Dusiote's trusty squire, +At watch by the palace-gates. + +IV + +The song of the bird was wine in his blood, +And woman the odorous bloom: +His master's great adventure stirred +Within him to mingle the bloom and bird, +And morn ere its coming illume. + +V + +Beside him strangely a piece of the dark +Had moved, and the undertones +Of a priest in prayer, like a cavernous wave, +He heard, as were there a soul to save +For urgency now in the groans. + +VI + +No priest was hired for the play this night: +And the squire tossed head like a deer +At sniff of the tainted wind; he gazed +Where cresset-lamps in a door were raised, +Belike on a passing bier. + +VII + +All cloaked and masked, with naked blades, +That flashed of a judgement done, +The lords of the Court, from the palace-door, +Came issuing silently, bearers four, +And flat on their shoulders one. + +VIII + +They marched the body to squire and priest, +They lowered it sad to earth: +The priest they gave the burial dole, +Bade wrestle hourly for his soul, +Who was a lord of worth. + +IX + +One said, farewell to a gallant knight! +And one, but a restless ghost! +'Tis a year and a day since in this place +He died, sped high by a lady of grace +To join the blissful host. + +X + +Not vainly on us she charged her cause, +The lady whom we revere +For faith in the mask of a love untrue +To the Love we honour, the Love her due, +The Love we have vowed to rear. + +XI + +A trap for the sweet tooth, lures for the light, +For the fortress defiant a mine: +Right well! But not in the South, princess, +Shall the lady snared of her nobleness +Ever shamed or a captive pine. + +XII + +When the South had voice of a nightingale +Above a Maying bower, +On the heights of Love walked radiant peers; +The bird of the passion sang over his tears +To the breeze and the orange-flower. + + + +KING HARALD'S TRANCE + + + +I + +Sword in length a reaping-hook amain +Harald sheared his field, blood up to shank: +'Mid the swathes of slain, +First at moonrise drank. + +II + +Thereof hunger, as for meats the knife, +Pricked his ribs, in one sharp spur to reach +Home and his young wife, +Nigh the sea-ford beach. + +III + +After battle keen to feed was he: +Smoking flesh the thresher washed down fast, +Like an angry sea +Ships from keel to mast. + +IV + +Name us glory, singer, name us pride +Matching Harald's in his deeds of strength; +Chiefs, wife, sword by side, +Foemen stretched their length! + +V + +Half a winter night the toasts hurrahed, +Crowned him, clothed him, trumpeted him high, +Till awink he bade +Wife to chamber fly. + +VI + +Twice the sun had mounted, twice had sunk, +Ere his ears took sound; he lay for dead; +Mountain on his trunk, +Ocean on his head. + +VII + +Clamped to couch, his fiery hearing sucked +Whispers that at heart made iron-clang: +Here fool-women clucked, +There men held harangue. + +VIII + +Burial to fit their lord of war +They decreed him: hailed the kingling: ha! +Hateful! but this Thor +Failed a weak lamb's baa. + +IX + +King they hailed a branchlet, shaped to fare, +Weighted so, like quaking shingle spume, +When his blood's own heir +Ripened in the womb! + +X + +Still he heard, and doglike, hoglike, ran +Nose of hearing till his blind sight saw: +Woman stood with man +Mouthing low, at paw. + +XI + +Woman, man, they mouthed; they spake a thing +Armed to split a mountain, sunder seas: +Still the frozen king +Lay and felt him freeze. + +XII + +Doglike, hoglike, horselike now he raced, +Riderless, in ghost across a ground +Flint of breast, blank-faced, +Past the fleshly bound. + +XIII + +Smell of brine his nostrils filled with might: +Nostrils quickened eyelids, eyelids hand: +Hand for sword at right +Groped, the great haft spanned. + +XIV + +Wonder struck to ice his people's eyes: +Him they saw, the prone upon the bier, +Sheer from backbone rise, +Sword uplifting peer. + +XV + +Sitting did he breathe against the blade, +Standing kiss it for that proof of life: +Strode, as netters wade, +Straightway to his wife. + +XVI + +Her he eyed: his judgement was one word, +Foulbed! and she fell: the blow clove two. +Fearful for the third, +All their breath indrew. + +XVII + +Morning danced along the waves to beach; +Dumb his chiefs fetched breath for what might hap: +Glassily on each +Stared the iron cap. + +XVIII + +Sudden, as it were a monster oak +Split to yield a limb by stress of heat, +Strained he, staggered, broke +Doubled at their feet. + + + +WHIMPER OF SYMPATHY + + + +Hawk or shrike has done this deed +Of downy feathers: rueful sight! +Sweet sentimentalist, invite +Your bosom's Power to intercede. + +So hard it seems that one must bleed +Because another needs will bite! +All round we find cold Nature slight +The feelings of the totter-knee'd. + +O it were pleasant with you +To fly from this tussle of foes, +The shambles, the charnel, the wrinkle! +To dwell in yon dribble of dew +On the cheek of your sovereign rose, +And live the young life of a twinkle. + + + +YOUNG REYNARD + + + +I + +Gracefullest leaper, the dappled fox-cub +Curves over brambles with berries and buds, +Light as a bubble that flies from the tub, +Whisked by the laundry-wife out of her suds. +Wavy he comes, woolly, all at his ease, +Elegant, fashioned to foot with the deuce; +Nature's own prince of the dance: then he sees +Me, and retires as if making excuse. + +II + +Never closed minuet courtlier! Soon +Cub-hunting troops were abroad, and a yelp +Told of sure scent: ere the stroke upon noon +Reynard the younger lay far beyond help. +Wild, my poor friend, has the fate to be chased; +Civil will conquer: were 't other 'twere worse; +Fair, by the flushed early morning embraced, +Haply you live a day longer in verse. + + + +MANFRED + + + +I + +Projected from the bilious Childe, +This clatterjaw his foot could set +On Alps, without a breast beguiled +To glow in shedding rascal sweat. +Somewhere about his grinder teeth, +He mouthed of thoughts that grilled beneath, +And summoned Nature to her feud +With bile and buskin Attitude. + +II + +Considerably was the world +Of spinsterdom and clergy racked +While he his hinted horrors hurled, +And she pictorially attacked. +A duel hugeous. Tragic? Ho! +The cities, not the mountains, blow +Such bladders; in their shapes confessed +An after-dinner's indigest. + + + +HERNANI + + + +Cistercians might crack their sides +With laughter, and exemption get, +At sight of heroes clasping brides, +And hearing--O the horn! the horn! +The horn of their obstructive debt! + +But quit the stage, that note applies +For sermons cosmopolitan, +Hernani. Have we filched our prize, +Forgetting . . .? O the horn! the horn! +The horn of the Old Gentleman! + + + +THE NUPTIALS OF ATTILA + + + +I + +Flat as to an eagle's eye, +Earth hung under Attila. +Sign for carnage gave he none. +In the peace of his disdain, +Sun and rain, and rain and sun, +Cherished men to wax again, +Crawl, and in their manner die. +On his people stood a frost. +Like the charger cut in stone, +Rearing stiff, the warrior host, +Which had life from him alone, +Craved the trumpet's eager note, +As the bridled earth the Spring. +Rusty was the trumpet's throat. +He let chief and prophet rave; +Venturous earth around him string +Threads of grass and slender rye, +Wave them, and untrampled wave. +O for the time when God did cry, +Eye and have, my Attila! + +II + +Scorn of conquest filled like sleep +Him that drank of havoc deep +When the Green Cat pawed the globe: +When the horsemen from his bow +Shot in sheaves and made the foe +Crimson fringes of a robe, +Trailed o'er towns and fields in woe; +When they streaked the rivers red, +When the saddle was the bed. +Attila, my Attila! + +III + +He breathed peace and pulled a flower. +Eye and have, my Attila! +This was the damsel Ildico, +Rich in bloom until that hour: +Shyer than the forest doe +Twinkling slim through branches green. +Yet the shyest shall be seen. +Make the bed for Attila! + +IV + +Seen of Attila, desired, +She was led to him straightway: +Radiantly was she attired; +Rifled lands were her array, +Jewels bled from weeping crowns, +Gold of woeful fields and towns. +She stood pallid in the light. +How she walked, how withered white, +From the blessing to the board, +She who would have proudly blushed, +Women whispered, asking why, +Hinting of a youth, and hushed. +Was it terror of her lord? +Was she childish? was she sly? +Was it the bright mantle's dye +Drained her blood to hues of grief +Like the ash that shoots the spark? +See the green tree all in leaf: +See the green tree stripped of bark! - +Make the bed for Attila! + +V + +Round the banquet-table's load +Scores of iron horsemen rode; +Chosen warriors, keen and hard; +Grain of threshing battle-dints; +Attila's fierce body-guard, +Smelling war like fire in flints. +Grant them peace be fugitive! +Iron-capped and iron-heeled, +Each against his fellow's shield +Smote the spear-head, shouting, Live, +Attila! my Attila! +Eagle, eagle of our breed, +Eagle, beak the lamb, and feed! +Have her, and unleash us! live, +Attila! my Attila! + +VI + +He was of the blood to shine +Bronze in joy, like skies that scorch. +Beaming with the goblet wine +In the wavering of the torch, +Looked he backward on his bride. +Eye and have, my Attila! +Fair in her wide robe was she: +Where the robe and vest divide, +Fair she seemed surpassingly: +Soft, yet vivid as the stream +Danube rolls in the moonbeam +Through rock-barriers: but she smiled +Never, she sat cold as salt: +Open-mouthed as a young child +Wondering with a mind at fault. +Make the bed for Attila! + +VII + +Under the thin hoop of gold +Whence in waves her hair outrolled, +'Twixt her brows the women saw +Shadows of a vulture's claw +Gript in flight: strange knots that sped +Closing and dissolving aye: +Such as wicked dreams betray +When pale dawn creeps o'er the bed. +They might show the common pang +Known to virgins, in whom dread +Hunts their bliss like famished hounds; +While the chiefs with roaring rounds +Tossed her to her lord, and sang +Praise of him whose hand was large, +Cheers for beauty brought to yield, +Chirrups of the trot afield, +Hurrahs of the battle-charge. + +VIII + +Those rock-faces hung with weed +Reddened: their great days of speed, +Slaughter, triumph, flood and flame, +Like a jealous frenzy wrought, +Scoffed at them and did them shame, +Quaffing idle, conquering nought. +O for the time when God decreed +Earth the prey of Attila! +God called on thee in his wrath, +Trample it to mire! 'Twas done. +Swift as Danube clove our path +Down from East to Western sun. +Huns! behold your pasture, gaze, +Take, our king said: heel to flank +(Whisper it, the war-horse neighs!) +Forth we drove, and blood we drank +Fresh as dawn-dew: earth was ours: +Men were flocks we lashed and spurned: +Fast as windy flame devours, +Flame along the wind, we burned. +Arrow javelin, spear, and sword! +Here the snows and there the plains; +On! our signal: onward poured +Torrents of the tightened reins, +Foaming over vine and corn +Hot against the city-wall. +Whisper it, you sound a horn +To the grey beast in the stall! +Yea, he whinnies at a nod. +O for sound of the trumpet-notes! +O for the time when thunder-shod, +He that scarce can munch his oats, +Hung on the peaks, brooded aloof, +Champed the grain of the wrath of God, +Pressed a cloud on the cowering roof, +Snorted out of the blackness fire! +Scarlet broke the sky, and down, +Hammering West with print of his hoof, +He burst out of the bosom of ire +Sharp as eyelight under thy frown, +Attila, my Attila! + +IX + +Ravaged cities rolling smoke +Thick on cornfields dry and black, +Wave his banners, bear his yoke. +Track the lightning, and you track +Attila. They moan: 'tis he! +Bleed: 'tis he! Beneath his foot +Leagues are deserts charred and mute; +Where he passed, there passed a sea. +Attila, my Attila! + +X + +- Who breathed on the king cold breath? +Said a voice amid the host, +He is Death that weds a ghost, +Else a ghost that weds with Death? +Ildico's chill little hand +Shuddering he beheld: austere +Stared, as one who would command +Sight of what has filled his ear: +Plucked his thin beard, laughed disdain. +Feast, ye Huns! His arm be raised, +Like the warrior, battle-dazed, +Joining to the fight amain. +Make the bed for Attila! + +XI + +Silent Ildico stood up. +King and chief to pledge her well, +Shocked sword sword and cup on cup, +Clamouring like a brazen bell. +Silent stepped the queenly slave. +Fair, by heaven! she was to meet +On a midnight, near a grave, +Flapping wide the winding-sheet. + +XII + +Death and she walked through the crowd, +Out beyond the flush of light. +Ceremonious women bowed +Following her: 'twas middle night. +Then the warriors each on each +Spied, nor overloudly laughed; +Like the victims of the leech, +Who have drunk of a strange draught. + +XIII + +Attila remained. Even so +Frowned he when he struck the blow, +Brained his horse, that stumbled twice, +On a bloody day in Gaul, +Bellowing, Perish omens! All +Marvelled at the sacrifice, +But the battle, swinging dim, +Rang off that axe-blow for him. +Attila, my Attila! + +XIV + +Brightening over Danube wheeled +Star by star; and she, most fair, +Sweet as victory half-revealed, +Seized to make him glad and young; +She, O sweet as the dark sign +Given him oft in battles gone, +When the voice within said, Dare! +And the trumpet-notes were sprung +Rapturous for the charge in line: +She lay waiting: fair as dawn +Wrapped in folds of night she lay; +Secret, lustrous; flaglike there, +Waiting him to stream and ray, +With one loosening blush outflung, +Colours of his hordes of horse +Ranked for combat; still he hung +Like the fever dreading air, +Cursed of heat; and as a corse +Gathers vultures, in his brain +Images of her eyes and kiss +Plucked at the limbs that could remain +Loitering nigh the doors of bliss. +Make the bed for Attila! + +XV + +Passion on one hand, on one, +Destiny led forth the Hun. +Heard ye outcries of affright, +Voices that through many a fray, +In the press of flag and spear, +Warned the king of peril near? +Men were dumb, they gave him way, +Eager heads to left and right, +Like the bearded standard, thrust, +As in battle, for a nod +From their lord of battle-dust. +Attila, my Attila! +Slow between the lines he trod. +Saw ye not the sun drop slow +On this nuptial day, ere eve +Pierced him on the couch aglow? +Attila, my Attila! +Here and there his heart would cleave +Clotted memory for a space: +Some stout chief's familiar face, +Choicest of his fighting brood, +Touched him, as 'twere one to know +Ere he met his bride's embrace. +Attila, my Attila! +Twisting fingers in a beard +Scant as winter underwood, +With a narrowed eye he peered; +Like the sunset's graver red +Up old pine-stems. Grave he stood +Eyeing them on whom was shed +Burning light from him alone. +Attila, my Attila! +Red were they whose mouths recalled +Where the slaughter mounted high, +High on it, o'er earth appalled, +He; heaven's finger in their sight +Raising him on waves of dead, +Up to heaven his trumpets blown. +O for the time when God's delight +Crowned the head of Attila! +Hungry river of the crag +Stretching hands for earth he came: +Force and Speed astride his name +Pointed back to spear and flag. +He came out of miracle cloud, +Lightning-swift and spectre-lean. +Now those days are in a shroud: +Have him to his ghostly queen. +Make the bed for Attila! + +XVI + +One, with winecups overstrung, +Cried him farewell in Rome's tongue. +Who? for the great king turned as though +Wrath to the shaft's head strained the bow. +Nay, not wrath the king possessed, +But a radiance of the breast. +In that sound he had the key +Of his cunning malady. +Lo, where gleamed the sapphire lake, +Leo, with his Rome at stake, +Drew blank air to hues and forms; +Whereof Two that shone distinct, +Linked as orbed stars are linked, +Clear among the myriad swarms, +In a constellation, dashed +Full on horse and rider's eyes +Sunless light, but light it was - +Light that blinded and abashed, +Froze his members, bade him pause, +Caught him mid-gallop, blazed him home. +Attila, my Attila! +What are streams that cease to flow? +What was Attila, rolled thence, +Cheated by a juggler's show? +Like that lake of blue intense, +Under tempest lashed to foam, +Lurid radiance, as he passed, +Filled him, and around was glassed, +When deep-voiced he uttered, Rome! + +XVII + +Rome! the word was: and like meat +Flung to dogs the word was torn. +Soon Rome's magic priests shall bleat +Round their magic Pope forlorn! +Loud they swore the king had sworn +Vengeance on the Roman cheat, +Ere he passed, as, grave and still, +Danube through the shouting hill: +Sworn it by his naked life! +Eagle, snakes these women are: +Take them on the wing! but war, +Smoking war's the warrior's wife! +Then for plunder! then for brides +Won without a winking priest! - +Danube whirled his train of tides +Black toward the yellow East. +Make the bed for Attila! + +XVIII + +Chirrups of the trot afield, +Hurrahs of the battle-charge, +How they answered, how they pealed, +When the morning rose and drew +Bow and javelin, lance and targe, +In the nuptial casement's view! +Attila, my Attila! +Down the hillspurs, out of tents +Glimmering in mid-forest, through +Mists of the cool morning scents, +Forth from city-alley, court, +Arch, the bounding horsemen flew, +Joined along the plains of dew, +Raced and gave the rein to sport, +Closed and streamed like curtain-rents +Fluttered by a wind, and flowed +Into squadrons: trumpets blew, +Chargers neighed, and trappings glowed +Brave as the bright Orient's. +Look on the seas that run to greet +Sunrise: look on the leagues of wheat: +Look on the lines and squares that fret +Leaping to level the lance blood-wet. +Tens of thousands, man and steed, +Tossing like field-flowers in Spring; +Ready to be hurled at need +Whither their great lord may sling. +Finger Romeward, Romeward, King! +Attila, my Attila! +Still the woman holds him fast +As a night-flag round the mast. + +XIX + +Nigh upon the fiery noon, +Out of ranks a roaring burst. +'Ware white women like the moon! +They are poison: they have thirst +First for love, and next for rule. +Jealous of the army, she? +Ho, the little wanton fool! +We were his before she squealed +Blind for mother's milk, and heeled +Kicking on her mother's knee. +His in life and death are we: +She but one flower of a field. +We have given him bliss tenfold +In an hour to match her night: +Attila, my Attila! +Still her arms the master hold, +As on wounds the scarf winds tight. + +XX + +Over Danube day no more, +Like the warrior's planted spear, +Stood to hail the King: in fear +Western day knocked at his door. +Attila, my Attila! +Sudden in the army's eyes +Rolled a blast of lights and cries: +Flashing through them: Dead are ye! +Dead, ye Huns, and torn piecemeal! +See the ordered army reel +Stricken through the ribs: and see, +Wild for speed to cheat despair, +Horsemen, clutching knee to chin, +Crouch and dart they know not where. +Attila, my Attila! +Faces covered, faces bare, +Light the palace-front like jets +Of a dreadful fire within. +Beating hands and driving hair +Start on roof and parapets. +Dust rolls up; the slaughter din. +- Death to them who call him dead! +Death to them who doubt the tale! +Choking in his dusty veil, +Sank the sun on his death-bed. +Make the bed for Attila! + +XXI + +'Tis the room where thunder sleeps. +Frenzy, as a wave to shore +Surging, burst the silent door, +And drew back to awful deeps +Breath beaten out, foam-white. Anew +Howled and pressed the ghastly crew, +Like storm-waters over rocks. +Attila, my Attila! +One long shaft of sunset red +Laid a finger on the bed. +Horror, with the snaky locks, +Shocked the surge to stiffened heaps, +Hoary as the glacier's head +Faced to the moon. Insane they look. +God it is in heaven who weeps +Fallen from his hand the Scourge he shook. +Make the bed for Attila! + +XXII + +Square along the couch, and stark, +Like the sea-rejected thing +Sea-sucked white, behold their King. +Attila, my Attila! +Beams that panted black and bright, +Scornful lightnings danced their sight: +Him they see an oak in bud, +Him an oaklog stripped of bark: +Him, their lord of day and night, +White, and lifting up his blood +Dumb for vengeance. Name us that, +Huddled in the corner dark +Humped and grinning like a cat, +Teeth for lips!--'tis she! she stares, +Glittering through her bristled hairs. +Rend her! Pierce her to the hilt! +She is Murder: have her out! +What! this little fist, as big +As the southern summer fig! +She is Madness, none may doubt. +Death, who dares deny her guilt! +Death, who says his blood she spilt! +Make the bed for Attila! + +XXIII + +Torch and lamp and sunset-red +Fell three-fingered on the bed. +In the torch the beard-hair scant +With the great breast seemed to pant: +In the yellow lamp the limbs +Wavered, as the lake-flower swims: +In the sunset red the dead +Dead avowed him, dry blood-red. + +XXIV + +Hatred of that abject slave, +Earth, was in each chieftain's heart. +Earth has got him, whom God gave, +Earth may sing, and earth shall smart! +Attila, my Attila! + +XXV + +Thus their prayer was raved and ceased. +Then had Vengeance of her feast +Scent in their quick pang to smite +Which they knew not, but huge pain +Urged them for some victim slain +Swift, and blotted from the sight. +Each at each, a crouching beast, +Glared, and quivered for the word. +Each at each, and all on that, +Humped and grinning like a cat, +Head-bound with its bridal-wreath. +Then the bitter chamber heard +Vengeance in a cauldron seethe. +Hurried counsel rage and craft +Yelped to hungry men, whose teeth +Hard the grey lip-ringlet gnawed, +Gleaming till their fury laughed. +With the steel-hilt in the clutch, +Eyes were shot on her that froze +In their blood-thirst overawed; +Burned to rend, yet feared to touch. +She that was his nuptial rose, +She was of his heart's blood clad: +Oh! the last of him she had! - +Could a little fist as big +As the southern summer fig, +Push a dagger's point to pierce +Ribs like those? Who else! They glared +Each at each. Suspicion fierce +Many a black remembrance bared. +Attila, my Attila! +Death, who dares deny her guilt! +Death, who says his blood she spilt! +Traitor he, who stands between! +Swift to hell, who harms the Queen! +She, the wild contention's cause, +Combed her hair with quiet paws. +Make the bed for Attila! + +XXVI + +Night was on the host in arms. +Night, as never night before, +Hearkened to an army's roar +Breaking up in snaky swarms: +Torch and steel and snorting steed, +Hunted by the cry of blood, +Cursed with blindness, mad for day. +Where the torches ran a flood, +Tales of him and of the deed +Showered like a torrent spray. +Fear of silence made them strive +Loud in warrior-hymns that grew +Hoarse for slaughter yet unwreaked. +Ghostly Night across the hive, +With a crimson finger drew +Letters on her breast and shrieked. +Night was on them like the mould +On the buried half alive. +Night, their bloody Queen, her fold +Wound on them and struck them through. +Make the bed for Attila! + +XXVII + +Earth has got him whom God gave, +Earth may sing, and earth shall smart! +None of earth shall know his grave. +They that dig with Death depart. +Attila, my Attila! + +XXVIII + +Thus their prayer was raved and passed: +Passed in peace their red sunset: +Hewn and earthed those men of sweat +Who had housed him in the vast, +Where no mortal might declare, +There lies he--his end was there! +Attila, my Attila! + +XXIX + +Kingless was the army left: +Of its head the race bereft. +Every fury of the pit +Tortured and dismembered it. +Lo, upon a silent hour, +When the pitch of frost subsides, +Danube with a shout of power +Loosens his imprisoned tides: +Wide around the frighted plains +Shake to hear his riven chains, +Dreadfuller than heaven in wrath, +As he makes himself a path: +High leap the ice-cracks, towering pile +Floes to bergs, and giant peers +Wrestle on a drifted isle; +Island on ice-island rears; +Dissolution battles fast: +Big the senseless Titans loom, +Through a mist of common doom +Striving which shall die the last: +Till a gentle-breathing morn +Frees the stream from bank to bank. +So the Empire built of scorn +Agonized, dissolved and sank. +Of the Queen no more was told +Than of leaf on Danube rolled. +Make the bed for Attila! + + + +ANEURIN'S HARP + + + +I + +Prince of Bards was old Aneurin; +He the grand Gododin sang; +All his numbers threw such fire in, +Struck his harp so wild a twang; - +Still the wakeful Briton borrows +Wisdom from its ancient heat: +Still it haunts our source of sorrows, +Deep excess of liquor sweet! + +II + +Here the Briton, there the Saxon, +Face to face, three fields apart, +Thirst for light to lay their thwacks on +Each the other with good heart. +Dry the Saxon sits, 'mid dinful +Noise of iron knits his steel: +Fresh and roaring with a skinful, +Britons round the hirlas reel. + +III + +Yellow flamed the meady sunset; +Red runs up the flag of morn. +Signal for the British onset +Hiccups through the British horn. +Down these hillmen pour like cattle +Sniffing pasture: grim below, +Showing eager teeth of battle, +In his spear-heads lies the foe. + +IV + +- Monster of the sea! we drive him +Back into his hungry brine. +- You shall lodge him, feed him, wive him, +Look on us; we stand in line. +- Pale sea-monster! foul the waters +Cast him; foul he leaves our land. +- You shall yield us land and daughters: +Stay the tongue, and try the hand. + +V + +Swift as torrent-streams our warriors, +Tossing torrent lights, find way; +Burst the ridges, crowd the barriers, +Pierce them where the spear-heads play; +Turn them as the clods in furrow, +Top them like the leaping foam; +Sorrow to the mother, sorrow, +Sorrow to the wife at home! + +VI + +Stags, they butted; bulls, they bellowed; +Hounds, we baited them; oh, brave! +Every second man, unfellowed, +Took the strokes of two, and gave. +Bare as hop-stakes in November's +Mists they met our battle-flood: +Hoary-red as Winter's embers +Lay their dead lines done in blood. + +VII + +Thou, my Bard, didst hang thy lyre in +Oak-leaves, and with crimson brand +Rhythmic fury spent, Aneurin; +Songs the churls could understand: +Thrumming on their Saxon sconces +Straight, the invariable blow, +Till they snorted true responses. +Ever thus the Bard they know! + +VIII + +But ere nightfall, harper lusty! +When the sun was like a ball +Dropping on the battle dusty, +What was yon discordant call? +Cambria's old metheglin demon +Breathed against our rushing tide; +Clove us midst the threshing seamen:- +Gashed, we saw our ranks divide! + +IX + +Britain then with valedictory +Shriek veiled off her face and knelt. +Full of liquor, full of victory, +Chief on chief old vengeance dealt. +Backward swung their hurly-burly; +None but dead men kept the fight. +They that drink their cup too early, +Darkness they shall see ere night. + +X + +Loud we heard the yellow rover +Laugh to sleep, while we raged thick, +Thick as ants the ant-hill over, +Asking who has thrust the stick. +Lo, as frogs that Winter cumbers +Meet the Spring with stiffen'd yawn, +We from our hard night of slumbers +Marched into the bloody dawn. + +XI + +Day on day we fought, though shattered: +Pushed and met repulses sharp, +Till our Raven's plumes were scattered: +All, save old Aneurin's harp. +Hear it wailing like a mother +O'er the strings of children slain! +He in one tongue, in another, +Alien, I; one blood, yet twain. + +XII + +Old Aneurin! droop no longer. +That squat ocean-scum, we own, +Had fine stoutness, made us stronger, +Brought us much-required backbone: +Claimed of Power their dues, and granted +Dues to Power in turn, when rose +Mightier rovers; they that planted +Sovereign here the Norman nose. + +XIII + +Glorious men, with heads of eagles, +Chopping arms, and cupboard lips; +Warriors, hunters, keen as beagles, +Mounted aye on horse or ships. +Active, being hungry creatures; +Silent, having nought to say: +High they raised the lord of features, +Saxon-worshipped to this day. + +XIV + +Hear its deeds, the great recital! +Stout as bergs of Arctic ice +Once it led, and lived; a title +Now it is, and names its price. +This our Saxon brothers cherish: +This, when by the worth of wits +Lands are reared aloft, or perish, +Sole illumes their lucre-pits. + +XV + +Know we not our wrongs, unwritten +Though they be, Aneurin? Sword, +Song, and subtle mind, the Briton +Brings to market, all ignored. +'Gainst the Saxon's bone impinging, +Still is our Gododin played; +Shamed we see him humbly cringing +In a shadowy nose's shade. + +XVI + +Bitter is the weight that crushes +Low, my Bard, thy race of fire. +Here no fair young future blushes +Bridal to a man's desire. +Neither chief, nor aim, nor splendour +Dressing distance, we perceive. +Neither honour, nor the tender +Bloom of promise, morn or eve. + +XVII + +Joined we are; a tide of races +Rolled to meet a common fate; +England clasps in her embraces +Many: what is England's state? +England her distended middle +Thumps with pride as Mammon's wife; +Says that thus she reads thy riddle, +Heaven! 'tis heaven to plump her life. + +XVIII + +O my Bard! a yellow liquor, +Like to that we drank of old - +Gold is her metheglin beaker, +She destruction drinks in gold. +Warn her, Bard, that Power is pressing +Hotly for his dues this hour; +Tell her that no drunken blessing +Stops the onward march of Power. + +XIX + +Has she ears to take forewarnings +She will cleanse her of her stains, +Feed and speed for braver mornings +Valorously the growth of brains. +Power, the hard man knit for action, +Reads each nation on the brow. +Cripple, fool, and petrifaction +Fall to him--are falling now! + + + +MEN AND MAN + + + +I + +Men the Angels eyed; +And here they were wild waves, +And there as marsh descried; +Men the Angels eyed, +And liked the picture best +Where they were greenly dressed +In brotherhood of graves. + +II + +Man the Angels marked: +He led a host through murk, +On fearful seas embarked; +Man the Angels marked; +To think without a nay, +That he was good as they, +And help him at his work. + +III + +Man and Angels, ye +A sluggish fen shall drain, +Shall quell a warring sea. +Man and Angels, ye, +Whom stain of strife befouls, +A light to kindle souls +Bear radiant in the stain. + + + +THE LAST CONTENTION + + + +I + +Young captain of a crazy bark! +O tameless heart in battered frame! +Thy sailing orders have a mark, +And hers is not the name. + +II + +For action all thine iron clanks +In cravings for a splendid prize; +Again to race or bump thy planks +With any flag that flies. + +III + +Consult them; they are eloquent +For senses not inebriate. +They trust thee on the star intent, +That leads to land their freight. + +IV + +And they have known thee high peruse +The heavens, and deep the earth, till thou +Didst into the flushed circle cruise +Where reason quits the brow. + +V + +Thou animatest ancient tales, +To prove our world of linear seed: +Thy very virtue now assails, +A tempter to mislead. + +VI + +But thou hast answer I am I; +My passion hallows, bids command: +And she is gracious, she is nigh: +One motion of the hand! + +VII + +It will suffice; a whirly tune +These winds will pipe, and thou perform +The nodded part of pantaloon +In thy created storm. + +VIII + +Admires thee Nature with much pride; +She clasps thee for a gift of morn, +Till thou art set against the tide, +And then beware her scorn. + +IX + +Sad issue, should that strife befall +Between thy mortal ship and thee! +It writes the melancholy scrawl +Of wreckage over sea. + +X + +This lady of the luting tongue, +The flash in darkness, billow's grace, +For thee the worship; for the young +In muscle the embrace. + +XI + +Soar on thy manhood clear from those +Whose toothless Winter claws at May, +And take her as the vein of rose +Athwart an evening grey. + + + +PERIANDER + + + +I + +How died Melissa none dares shape in words. +A woman who is wife despotic lords +Count faggot at the question, Shall she live! +Her son, because his brows were black of her, +Runs barking for his bread, a fugitive, +And Corinth frowns on them that feed the cur. + +II + +There is no Corinth save the whip and curb +Of Corinth, high Periander; the superb +In magnanimity, in rule severe. +Up on his marble fortress-tower he sits, +The city under him: a white yoked steer, +That bears his heart for pulse, his head for wits. + +III + +Bloom of the generous fires of his fair Spring +Still coloured him when men forbore to sting; +Admiring meekly where the ordered seeds +Of his good sovereignty showed gardens trim; +And owning that the hoe he struck at weeds +Was author of the flowers raised face to him. + +IV + +His Corinth, to each mood subservient +In homage, made he as an instrument +To yield him music with scarce touch of stops. +He breathed, it piped; he moved, it rose to fly: +At whiles a bloodhorse racing till it drops; +At whiles a crouching dog, on him all eye. + +V + +His wisdom men acknowledged; only one, +The creature, issue of him, Lycophron, +That rebel with his mother in his brows, +Contested: such an infamous would foul +Pirene! Little heed where he might house +The prince gave, hearing: so the fox, the owl! + +VI + +To prove the Gods benignant to his rule, +The years, which fasten rigid whom they cool, +Reviewing, saw him hold the seat of power. +A grey one asked: Who next? nor answer had: +One greyer pointed on the pallid hour +To come: a river dried of waters glad. + +VII + +For which of his male issue promised grip +To stride yon people, with the curb and whip? +This Lycophron! he sole, the father like, +Fired prospect of a line in one strong tide, +By right of mastery; stern will to strike; +Pride to support the stroke: yea, Godlike pride! + +VIII + +Himself the prince beheld a failing fount. +His line stretched back unto its holy mount: +The thirsty onward waved for him no sign. +Then stood before his vision that hard son. +The seizure of a passion for his line +Impelled him to the path of Lycophron. + +IX + +The youth was tossing pebbles in the sea; +A figure shunned along the busy quay, +Perforce of the harsh edict for who dared +Address him outcast. Naming it, he crossed +His father's look with look that proved them paired +For stiffness, and another pebble tossed. + +X + +An exile to the Island ere nightfall +He passed from sight, from the hushed mouths of all. +It had resemblance to a death: and on, +Against a coast where sapphire shattered white, +The seasons rolled like troops of billows blown +To spraymist. The prince gazed on capping night. + +XI + +Deaf Age spake in his ear with shouts: Thy son! +Deep from his heart Life raved of work not done. +He heard historic echoes moan his name, +As of the prince in whom the race had pause; +Till Tyranny paternity became, +And him he hated loved he for the cause. + +XII + +Not Lycophron the exile now appeared, +But young Periander, from the shadow cleared, +That haunted his rebellious brows. The prince +Grew bright for him; saw youth, if seeming loth, +Return: and of pure pardon to convince, +Despatched the messenger most dear with both. + +XIII + +His daughter, from the exile's Island home, +Wrote, as a flight of halcyons o'er the foam, +Sweet words: her brother to his father bowed; +Accepted his peace-offering, and rejoiced. +To bring him back a prince the father vowed, +Commanded man the oars, the white sails hoist. + +XIV + +He waved the fleet to strain its westward way +On to the sea-hued hills that crown the bay: +Soil of those hospitable islanders +Whom now his heart, for honour to his blood, +Thanked. They should learn what boons a prince confers +When happiness enjoins him gratitude! + +XV + +In watch upon the offing, worn with haste +To see his youth revived, and, close embraced, +Pardon who had subdued him, who had gained +Surely the stoutest battle between two +Since Titan pierced by young Apollo stained +Earth's breast, the prince looked forth, himself looked through. + +XVI + +Errors aforetime unperceived were bared, +To be by his young masterful repaired: +Renewed his great ideas gone to smoke; +His policy confirmed amid the surge +Of States and people fretting at his yoke. +And lo, the fleet brown-flocked on the sea-verge! + +XVII + +Oars pulled: they streamed in harbour; without cheer +For welcome shadowed round the heaving bier. +They, whose approach in such rare pomp and stress +Of numbers the free islanders dismayed +At Tyranny come masking to oppress, +Found Lycophron this breathless, this lone-laid. + +XVIII + +Who smote the man thrown open to young joy? +The image of the mother of his boy +Came forth from his unwary breast in wreaths, +With eyes. And shall a woman, that extinct, +Smite out of dust the Powerful who breathes? +Her loved the son; her served; they lay close-linked! + +XIX + +Dead was he, and demanding earth. Demand +Sharper for vengeance of an instant hand, +The Tyrant in the father heard him cry, +And raged a plague; to prove on free Hellenes +How prompt the Tyrant for the Persian dye; +How black his Gods behind their marble screens. + + + +SOLON + + + +I + +The Tyrant passed, and friendlier was his eye +On the great man of Athens, whom for foe +He knew, than on the sycophantic fry +That broke as waters round a galley's flow, +Bubbles at prow and foam along the wake. +Solidity the Thunderer could not shake, +Beneath an adverse wind still stripping bare, +His kinsman, of the light-in-cavern look, +From thought drew, and a countenance could wear +Not less at peace than fields in Attic air +Shorn, and shown fruitful by the reaper's hook. + +II + +Most enviable so; yet much insane +To deem of minds of men they grow! these sheep, +By fits wild horses, need the crook and rein; +Hot bulls by fits, pure wisdom hold they cheap, +My Lawgiver, when fiery is the mood. +For ones and twos and threes thy words are good; +For thine own government are pillars: mine +Stand acts to fit the herd; which has quick thirst, +Rejecting elegiacs, though they shine +On polished brass, and, worthy of the Nine, +In showering columns from their fountain burst. + +III + +Thus museful rode the Tyrant, princely plumed, +To his high seat upon the sacred rock: +And Solon, blank beside his rule, resumed +The meditation which that passing mock +Had buffeted awhile to sallowness. +He little loved the man, his office less, +Yet owned him for a flower of his kind. +Therefore the heavier curse on Athens he! +The people grew not in themselves, but, blind, +Accepted sight from him, to him resigned +Their hopes of stature, rootless as at sea. + +IV + +As under sea lay Solon's work, or seemed +By turbid shore-waves beaten day by day; +Defaced, half formless, like an image dreamed, +Or child that fashioned in another clay +Appears, by strangers' hands to home returned. +But shall the Present tyrannize us? earned +It was in some way, justly says the sage. +One sees not how, while husbanding regrets; +While tossing scorn abroad from righteous rage, +High vision is obscured; for this is age +When robbed--more infant than the babe it frets! + +V + +Yet see Athenians treading the black path +Laid by a prince's shadow! well content +To wait his pleasure, shivering at his wrath: +They bow to their accepted Orient +With offer of the all that renders bright: +Forgetful of the growth of men to light, +As creatures reared on Persian milk they bow. +Unripe! unripe! The times are overcast. +But still may they who sowed behind the plough +True seed fix in the mind an unborn NOW +To make the plagues afflicting us things past. + + + +BELLEROPHON + + + +I + +Maimed, beggared, grey; seeking an alms; with nod +Of palsy doing task of thanks for bread; +Upon the stature of a God, +He whom the Gods have struck bends low his head. + +II + +Weak words he has, that slip the nerveless tongue +Deformed, like his great frame: a broken arc: +Once radiant as the javelin flung +Right at the centre breastplate of his mark. + +III + +Oft pausing on his white-eyed inward look, +Some undermountain narrative he tells, +As gapped by Lykian heat the brook +Cut from the source that in the upland swells. + +IV + +The cottagers who dole him fruit and crust +With patient inattention hear him prate: +And comes the snow, and comes the dust, +Comes the old wanderer, more bent of late. + +V + +A crazy beggar grateful for a meal +Has ever of himself a world to say. +For them he is an ancient wheel +Spinning a knotted thread the livelong day. + +VI + +He cannot, nor do they, the tale connect; +For never singer in the land had been +Who him for theme did not reject: +Spurned of the hoof that sprang the Hippocrene. + +VII + +Albeit a theme of flame to bring them straight +The snorting white-winged brother of the wave, +They hear him as a thing by fate +Cursed in unholy babble to his grave. + +VIII + +As men that spied the wings, that heard the snort, +Their sires have told; and of a martial prince +Bestriding him; and old report +Speaks of a monster slain by one long since. + +IX + +There is that story of the golden bit +By Goddess given to tame the lightning steed: +A mortal who could mount, and sit +Flying, and up Olympus midway speed. + +X + +He rose like the loosed fountain's utmost leap; +He played the star at span of heaven right o'er +Men's heads: they saw the snowy steep, +Saw the winged shoulders: him they saw not more. + +XI + +He fell: and says the shattered man, I fell: +And sweeps an arm the height an eagle wins; +And in his breast a mouthless well +Heaves the worn patches of his coat of skins. + +XII + +Lo, this is he in whom the surgent springs +Of recollections richer than our skies +To feed the flow of tuneful strings, +Show but a pool of scum for shooting flies. + + + +PHAETHON--ATTEMPTED IN THE GALLIAMBIC MEASURE + + + +At the coming up of Phoebus the all-luminous charioteer, +Double-visaged stand the mountains in imperial multitudes, +And with shadows dappled men sing to him, Hail, O Beneficent! +For they shudder chill, the earth-vales, at his clouding, shudder to +black; +In the light of him there is music thro' the poplar and river-sedge, +Renovation, chirp of brooks, hum of the forest--an ocean-song. +Never pearl from ocean-hollows by the diver exultingly, +In his breathlessness, above thrust, is as earth to Helios. +Who usurps his place there, rashest? Aphrodite's loved one it is! +To his son the flaming Sun-God, to the tender youth, Phaethon, +Rule of day this day surrenders as a thing hereditary, +Having sworn by Styx tremendous, for the proof of his parentage, +He would grant his son's petition, whatsoever the sign thereof. +Then, rejoiced, the stripling answered: 'Rule of day give me; give +it me, +Give me place that men may see me how I blaze, and transcendingly +I, divine, proclaim my birthright.' Darkened Helios, and his +utterance +Choked prophetic: 'O half mortal!' he exclaimed in an agony, +'O lost son of mine! lost son! No! put a prayer for another thing: +Not for this: insane to wish it, and to crave the gift impious! +Cannot other gifts my godhead shed upon thee? miraculous +Mighty gifts to prove a blessing, that to earth thou shalt be a joy? +Gifts of healing, wherewith men walk as the Gods beneficently; +As a God to sway to concord hearts of men, reconciling them; +Gifts of verse, the lyre, the laurel, therewithal that thine origin +Shall be known even as when I strike on the string'd shell with +melody, +And the golden notes, like medicine, darting straight to the +cavities, +Fill them up, till hearts of men bound as the billows, the ships +thereon.' +Thus intently urged the Sun-God; but the force of his eloquence +Was the pressing on of sea-waves scattered broad from the rocks +away. +What shall move a soul from madness? Lost, lost in delirium, +Rock-fast, the adolescent to his father, irreverent, +'By the oath! the oath! thine oath!' cried. The effulgent foreseer +then, +Quivering in his loins parental, on the boy's beaming countenance +Looked and moaned, and urged him for love's sake, for sweet life's +sake, to yield the claim, +To abandon his mad hunger, and avert the calamity. +But he, vehement, passionate, called out: 'Let me show I am what I +say, +That the taunts I hear be silenced: I am stung with their +whispering. +Only, Thou, my Father, Thou tell how aloft the revolving wheels, +How aloft the cleaving horse-crests I may guide peremptorily, +Till I drink the shadows, fire-hot, like a flower celestial, +And my fellows see me curbing the fierce steeds, the dear dew- +drinkers: +Yea, for this I gaze on life's light; throw for this any sacrifice.' + +All the end foreseeing, Phoebus to his oath irrevocable +Bowed obedient, deploring the insanity pitiless. +Then the flame-outsnorting horses were led forth: it was so +decreed. +They were yoked before the glad youth by his sister-ancillaries. +Swift the ripple ripples follow'd, as of aureate Helicon, +Down their flanks, while they impatient pawed desire of the +distances, +And the bit with fury champed. Oh! unimaginable delight! +Unimagined speed and splendour in the circle of upper air! +Glory grander than the armed host upon earth singing victory! +Chafed the youth with their spirit surcharged, as when blossom is +shaken by winds, +Marked that labour by his sister Phaethontiades finished, quick +On the slope of the car his forefoot set assured: and the morning +rose: +Seeing whom, and what a day dawned, stood the God, as in harvest +fields, +When the reaper grasps the full sheaf and the sickle that severs it: +Hugged the withered head with one hand, with the other, to indicate +(If this woe might be averted, this immeasurable evil), +Laid the kindling course in view, told how the reins to manipulate: +Named the horses fondly, fearful, caution'd urgently betweenwhiles: +Their diverging tempers dwelt on, and their wantonness, wickedness, +That the voice of Gods alone held in restraint; but the voice of +Gods; +None but Gods can curb. He spake: vain were the words: scarcely +listening, +Mounted Phaethon, swinging reins loose, and, 'Behold me, companions, +It is I here, I!' he shouted, glancing down with supremacy; +'Not to any of you was this gift granted ever in annals of men; +I alone what only Gods can, I alone am governing day!' +Short the triumph, brief his rapture: see a hurricane suddenly +Beat the lifting billow crestless, roll it broken this way and that; +- +At the leap on yielding ether, in despite of his reprimand, +Swayed tumultuous the fire-steeds, plunging reckless hither and yon; +Unto men a great amazement, all agaze at the Troubled East:- +Pitifully for mastery striving in ascension, the charioteer, +Reminiscent, drifts of counsel caught confused in his arid wits; +The reins stiff ahind his shoulder madly pulled for the mastery, +Till a thunder off the tense chords thro' his ears dinned horrible. +Panic seized him: fled his vision of inviolability; +Fled the dream that he of mortals rode mischances predominant; +And he cried, 'Had I petitioned for a cup of chill aconite, +My descent to awful Hades had been soft, for now must I go +With the curse by father Zeus cast on ambition immoderate. +Oh, my sisters! Thou, my Goddess, in whose love I was enviable, +From whose arms I rushed befrenzied, what a wreck will this body be, +That admired of thee stood rose-warm in the courts where thy +mysteries +Celebration had from me, me the most splendidly privileged! +Never more shall I thy temple fill with incenses bewildering; +Not again hear thy half-murmurs--I am lost!--never, never more. +I am wrecked on seas of air, hurled to my death in a vessel of +flame! +Hither, sisters! Father, save me! Hither, succour me, Cypria!' + +Now a wail of men to Zeus rang: from Olympus the Thunderer +Saw the rage of the havoc wide-mouthed, the bright car +superimpending +Over Asia, Africa, low down; ruin flaming over the vales; +Light disastrous rising savage out of smoke inveterately; +Beast-black, conflagration like a menacing shadow move +With voracious roaring southward, where aslant, insufferable, +The bright steeds careered their parched way down an arc of the +firmament. +For the day grew like to thick night, and the orb was its beacon- +fire, +And from hill to hill of darkness burst the day's apparition forth. +Lo, a wrestler, not a God, stood in the chariot ever lowering: +Lo, the shape of one who raced there to outstrip the legitimate +hours: +Lo, the ravish'd beams of Phoebus dragged in shame at the chariot- +wheels: +Light of days of happy pipings by the mead-singing rivulets! +Lo, lo, increasing lustre, torrid breath to the nostrils; lo, +Torrid brilliancies thro' the vapours lighten swifter, penetrate +them, +Fasten merciless, ruminant, hueless, on earth's frame crackling +busily. +He aloft, the frenzied driver, in the glow of the universe, +Like the paling of the dawn-star withers visibly, he aloft: +Bitter fury in his aspect, bitter death in the heart of him. +Crouch the herds, contract the reptiles, crouch the lions under +their paws. +White as metal in the furnace are the faces of human-kind: +Inarticulate creatures of earth dumb all await the ultimate shock. +To the bolt he launched, 'Strike dead, thou,' uttered Zeus, very +terrible; +'Perish folly, else 'tis man's fate'; and the bolt flew unerringly. +Then the kindler stooped; from the torch-car down the measureless +altitudes +Leaned his rayless head, relinquished rein and footing, raised not a +cry. +Like the flower on the river's surface when expanding it vanishes, +Gave his limbs to right and left, quenched: and so fell he +precipitate, +Seen of men as a glad rain-fall, sending coolness yet ere it comes: +So he showered above them, shadowed o'er the blue archipelagoes, +O'er the silken-shining pastures of the continents and the isles; +So descending brought revival to the greenery of our earth. + +Lither, noisy in the breezes now his sisters shivering weep, +By the river flowing smooth out to the vexed sea of Adria, +Where he fell, and where they suffered sudden change to the +tremulous +Ever-wailful trees bemoaning him, a bruised purple cyclamen. + + + +SEED-TIME + + + +I + +Flowers of the willow-herb are wool; +Flowers of the briar berries red; +Speeding their seed as the breeze may rule, +Flowers of the thistle loosen the thread. +Flowers of the clematis drip in beard, +Slack from the fir-tree youngly climbed; +Chaplets in air, flies foliage seared; +Heeled upon earth, lie clusters rimed. + +II + +Where were skies of the mantle stained +Orange and scarlet, a coat of frieze +Travels from North till day has waned, +Tattered, soaked in the ditch's dyes; +Tumbles the rook under grey or slate; +Else enfolding us, damps to the bone; +Narrows the world to my neighbour's gate; +Paints me Life as a wheezy crone. + +III + +Now seems none but the spider lord; +Star in circle his web waits prey, +Silvering bush-mounds, blue brushing sward; +Slow runs the hour, swift flits the ray. +Now to his thread-shroud is he nigh, +Nigh to the tangle where wings are sealed, +He who frolicked the jewelled fly; +All is adroop on the down and the weald. + +IV + +Mists more lone for the sheep-bell enwrap +Nights that tardily let slip a morn +Paler than moons, and on noontide's lap +Flame dies cold, like the rose late born. +Rose born late, born withered in bud! - +I, even I, for a zenith of sun +Cry, to fulfil me, nourish my blood: +O for a day of the long light, one! + +V + +Master the blood, nor read by chills, +Earth admonishes: Hast thou ploughed, +Sown, reaped, harvested grain for the mills, +Thou hast the light over shadow of cloud. +Steadily eyeing, before that wail +Animal-infant, thy mind began, +Momently nearer me: should sight fail, +Plod in the track of the husbandman. + +VI + +Verily now is our season of seed, +Now in our Autumn; and Earth discerns +Them that have served her in them that can read, +Glassing, where under the surface she burns, +Quick at her wheel, while the fuel, decay, +Brightens the fire of renewal: and we? +Death is the word of a bovine day, +Know you the breast of the springing To-be. + + + +HARD WEATHER + + + +Bursts from a rending East in flaws +The young green leaflet's harrier, sworn +To strew the garden, strip the shaws, +And show our Spring with banner torn. +Was ever such virago morn? +The wind has teeth, the wind has claws. +All the wind's wolves through woods are loose, +The wild wind's falconry aloft. +Shrill underfoot the grassblade shrews, +At gallop, clumped, and down the croft +Bestrid by shadows, beaten, tossed; +It seems a scythe, it seems a rod. +The howl is up at the howl's accost; +The shivers greet and the shivers nod. + +Is the land ship? we are rolled, we drive +Tritonly, cleaving hiss and hum; +Whirl with the dead, or mount or dive, +Or down in dregs, or on in scum. +And drums the distant, pipes the near, +And vale and hill are grey in grey, +As when the surge is crumbling sheer, +And sea-mews wing the haze of spray. +Clouds--are they bony witches?--swarms, +Darting swift on the robber's flight, +Hurry an infant sky in arms: +It peeps, it becks; 'tis day, 'tis night. +Black while over the loop of blue +The swathe is closed, like shroud on corse. +Lo, as if swift the Furies flew, +The Fates at heel at a cry to horse! + +Interpret me the savage whirr: +And is it Nature scourged, or she, +Her offspring's executioner, +Reducing land to barren sea? +But is there meaning in a day +When this fierce angel of the air, +Intent to throw, and haply slay, +Can for what breath of life we bear, +Exact the wrestle?--Call to mind +The many meanings glistening up +When Nature to her nurslings kind, +Hands them the fruitage and the cup! +And seek we rich significance +Not otherwhere than with those tides +Of pleasure on the sunned expanse, +Whose flow deludes, whose ebb derides? + +Look in the face of men who fare +Lock-mouthed, a match in lungs and thews +For this fierce angel of the air, +To twist with him and take his bruise. +That is the face beloved of old +Of Earth, young mother of her brood: +Nor broken for us shows the mould +When muscle is in mind renewed: +Though farther from her nature rude, +Yet nearer to her spirit's hold: +And though of gentler mood serene, +Still forceful of her fountain-jet. +So shall her blows be shrewdly met, +Be luminously read the scene +Where Life is at her grindstone set, +That she may give us edgeing keen, +String us for battle, till as play +The common strokes of fortune shower. +Such meaning in a dagger-day +Our wits may clasp to wax in power. +Yea, feel us warmer at her breast, +By spin of blood in lusty drill, +Than when her honeyed hands caressed, +And Pleasure, sapping, seemed to fill. + +Behold the life at ease; it drifts. +The sharpened life commands its course. +She winnows, winnows roughly; sifts, +To dip her chosen in her source: +Contention is the vital force, +Whence pluck they brain, her prize of gifts, +Sky of the senses! on which height, +Not disconnected, yet released, +They see how spirit comes to light, +Through conquest of the inner beast, +Which Measure tames to movement sane, +In harmony with what is fair. +Never is Earth misread by brain: +That is the welling of her, there +The mirror: with one step beyond, +For likewise is it voice; and more, +Benignest kinship bids respond, +When wail the weak, and them restore +Whom days as fell as this may rive, +While Earth sits ebon in her gloom, +Us atomies of life alive +Unheeding, bent on life to come. +Her children of the labouring brain, +These are the champions of the race, +True parents, and the sole humane, +With understanding for their base. +Earth yields the milk, but all her mind +Is vowed to thresh for stouter stock. +Her passion for old giantkind, +That scaled the mount, uphurled the rock, +Devolves on them who read aright +Her meaning and devoutly serve; +Nor in her starlessness of night +Peruse her with the craven nerve: +But even as she from grass to corn, +To eagle high from grubbing mole, +Prove in strong brain her noblest born, +The station for the flight of soul. + + + +THE SOUTH-WESTER + + + +Day of the cloud in fleets! O day +Of wedded white and blue, that sail +Immingled, with a footing ray +In shadow-sandals down our vale! - +And swift to ravish golden meads, +Swift up the run of turf it speeds, +Thy bright of head and dark of heel, +To where the hilltop flings on sky, +As hawk from wrist or dust from wheel, +The tiptoe sealers tossed to fly:- +Thee the last thunder's caverned peal +Delivered from a wailful night: +All dusky round thy cradled light, +Those brine-born issues, now in bloom +Transfigured, wreathed as raven's plume +And briony-leaf to watch thee lie: +Dark eyebrows o'er a dreamful eye +Nigh opening: till in the braid +Of purpled vapours thou wert rosed: +Till that new babe a Goddess maid +Appeared and vividly disclosed +Her beat of life: then crimson played +On edges of the plume and leaf: +Shape had they and fair feature brief, +The wings, the smiles: they flew the breast, +Earth's milk. But what imperial march +Their standards led for earth, none guessed +Ere upward of a coloured arch, +An arrow straining eager head +Lightened, and high for zenith sped. +Fierier followed; followed Fire. +Name the young lord of Earth's desire, +Whose look her wine is, and whose mouth +Her music! Beauteous was she seen +Beneath her midway West of South; +And sister was her quivered green +To sapphire of the Nereid eyes +On sea when sun is breeze; she winked +As they, and waved, heaved waterwise +Her flood of leaves and grasses linked: +A myriad lustrous butterflies +A moment in the fluttering sheen; +Becapped with the slate air that throws +The reindeer's antlers black between +Low-frowning and wide-fallen snows, +A minute after; hooded, stoled +To suit a graveside Season's dirge. +Lo, but the breaking of a surge, +And she is in her lover's fold, +Illumined o'er a boundless range +Anew: and through quick morning hours +The Tropic-Arctic countercharge +Did seem to pant in beams and showers. + +But noon beheld a larger heaven; +Beheld on our reflecting field +The Sower to the Bearer given, +And both their inner sweetest yield, +Fresh as when dews were grey or first +Received the flush of hues athirst. +Heard we the woodland, eyeing sun, +As harp and harper were they one. +A murky cloud a fair pursued, +Assailed, and felt the limbs elude: +He sat him down to pipe his woe, +And some strange beast of sky became: +A giant's club withheld the blow; +A milky cloud went all to flame. +And there were groups where silvery springs +The ethereal forest showed begirt +By companies in choric rings, +Whom but to see made ear alert. +For music did each movement rouse, +And motion was a minstrel's rage +To have our spirits out of house, +And bathe them on the open page. +This was a day that knew not age. +Since flew the vapoury twos and threes +From western pile to eastern rack; +As on from peaks of Pyrenees +To Graians; youngness ruled the track. +When songful beams were shut in caves, +And rainy drapery swept across; +When the ranked clouds were downy waves, +Breast of swan, eagle, albatross, +In ordered lines to screen the blue, +Youngest of light was nigh, we knew. +The silver finger of it laughed +Along the narrow rift: it shot, +Slew the huge gloom with golden shaft, +Then haled on high the volumed blot, +To build the hurling palace, cleave +The dazzling chasm; the flying nests, +The many glory-garlands weave, +Whose presence not our sight attests +Till wonder with the splendour blent, +And passion for the beauty flown, +Make evanescence permanent, +The thing at heart our endless own. + +Only at gathered eve knew we +The marvels of the day: for then +Mount upon mountain out of sea +Arose, and to our spacious ken +Trebled sublime Olympus round +In towering amphitheatre. +Colossal on enormous mound, +Majestic gods we saw confer. +They wafted the Dream-messenger +From off the loftiest, the crowned: +That Lady of the hues of foam +In sun-rays: who, close under dome, +A figure on the foot's descent, +Irradiate to vapour went, +As one whose mission was resigned, +Dispieced, undraped, dissolved to threads; +Melting she passed into the mind, +Where immortal with mortal weds. + +Whereby was known that we had viewed +The union of our earth and skies +Renewed: nor less alive renewed +Than when old bards, in nature wise, +Conceived pure beauty given to eyes, +And with undyingness imbued. +Pageant of man's poetic brain, +His grand procession of the song, +It was; the Muses and their train; +Their God to lead the glittering throng: +At whiles a beat of forest gong; +At whiles a glimpse of Python slain. +Mostly divinest harmony, +The lyre, the dance. We could believe +A life in orb and brook and tree, +And cloud; and still holds Memory +A morning in the eyes of eve. + + + +THE THRUSH IN FEBRUARY + + + +I know him, February's thrush, +And loud at eve he valentines +On sprays that paw the naked bush +Where soon will sprout the thorns and bines. + +Now ere the foreign singer thrills +Our vale his plain-song pipe he pours, +A herald of the million bills; +And heed him not, the loss is yours. + +My study, flanked with ivied fir +And budded beech with dry leaves curled, +Perched over yew and juniper, +He neighbours, piping to his world:- + +The wooded pathways dank on brown, +The branches on grey cloud a web, +The long green roller of the down, +An image of the deluge-ebb:- + +And farther, they may hear along +The stream beneath the poplar row. +By fits, like welling rocks, the song +Spouts of a blushful Spring in flow. + +But most he loves to front the vale +When waves of warm South-western rains +Have left our heavens clear in pale, +With faintest beck of moist red veins: + +Vermilion wings, by distance held +To pause aflight while fleeting swift: +And high aloft the pearl inshelled +Her lucid glow in glow will lift; + +A little south of coloured sky; +Directing, gravely amorous, +The human of a tender eye +Through pure celestial on us: + +Remote, not alien; still, not cold; +Unraying yet, more pearl than star; +She seems a while the vale to hold +In trance, and homelier makes the far. + +Then Earth her sweet unscented breathes, +An orb of lustre quits the height; +And like blue iris-flags, in wreaths +The sky takes darkness, long ere quite. + +His Island voice then shall you hear, +Nor ever after separate +From such a twilight of the year +Advancing to the vernal gate. + +He sings me, out of Winter's throat, +The young time with the life ahead; +And my young time his leaping note +Recalls to spirit-mirth from dead. + +Imbedded in a land of greed, +Of mammon-quakings dire as Earth's, +My care was but to soothe my need; +At peace among the littleworths. + +To light and song my yearning aimed; +To that deep breast of song and light +Which men have barrenest proclaimed; +As 'tis to senses pricked with fright. + +So mine are these new fruitings rich +The simple to the common brings; +I keep the youth of souls who pitch +Their joy in this old heart of things: + +Who feel the Coming young as aye, +Thrice hopeful on the ground we plough; +Alive for life, awake to die; +One voice to cheer the seedling Now. + +Full lasting is the song, though he, +The singer, passes: lasting too, +For souls not lent in usury, +The rapture of the forward view. + +With that I bear my senses fraught +Till what I am fast shoreward drives. +They are the vessel of the Thought. +The vessel splits, the Thought survives. + +Nought else are we when sailing brave, +Save husks to raise and bid it burn. +Glimpse of its livingness will wave +A light the senses can discern + +Across the river of the death, +Their close. Meanwhile, O twilight bird +Of promise! bird of happy breath! +I hear, I would the City heard. + +The City of the smoky fray; +A prodded ox, it drags and moans: +Its Morrow no man's child; its Day +A vulture's morsel beaked to bones. + +It strives without a mark for strife; +It feasts beside a famished host: +The loose restraint of wanton life, +That threatened penance in the ghost! + +Yet there our battle urges; there +Spring heroes many: issuing thence, +Names that should leave no vacant air +For fresh delight in confidence. + +Life was to them the bag of grain, +And Death the weedy harrow's tooth. +Those warriors of the sighting brain +Give worn Humanity new youth. + +Our song and star are they to lead +The tidal multitude and blind +From bestial to the higher breed +By fighting souls of love divined, + +They scorned the ventral dream of peace, +Unknown in nature. This they knew: +That life begets with fair increase +Beyond the flesh, if life be true. + +Just reason based on valiant blood, +The instinct bred afield would match +To pipe thereof a swelling flood, +Were men of Earth made wise in watch. + +Though now the numbers count as drops +An urn might bear, they father Time. +She shapes anew her dusty crops; +Her quick in their own likeness climb. + +Of their own force do they create; +They climb to light, in her their root. +Your brutish cry at muffled fate +She smites with pangs of worse than brute. + +She, judged of shrinking nerves, appears +A Mother whom no cry can melt; +But read her past desires and fears, +The letters on her breast are spelt. + +A slayer, yea, as when she pressed +Her savage to the slaughter-heaps, +To sacrifice she prompts her best: +She reaps them as the sower reaps. + +But read her thought to speed the race, +And stars rush forth of blackest night: +You chill not at a cold embrace +To come, nor dread a dubious might. + +Her double visage, double voice, +In oneness rise to quench the doubt. +This breath, her gift, has only choice +Of service, breathe we in or out. + +Since Pain and Pleasure on each hand +Led our wild steps from slimy rock +To yonder sweeps of gardenland, +We breathe but to be sword or block. + +The sighting brain her good decree +Accepts; obeys those guides, in faith, +By reason hourly fed, that she, +To some the clod, to some the wraith, + +Is more, no mask; a flame, a stream. +Flame, stream, are we, in mid career +From torrent source, delirious dream, +To heaven-reflecting currents clear. + +And why the sons of Strength have been +Her cherished offspring ever; how +The Spirit served by her is seen +Through Law; perusing love will show. + +Love born of knowledge, love that gains +Vitality as Earth it mates, +The meaning of the Pleasures, Pains, +The Life, the Death, illuminates. + +For love we Earth, then serve we all; +Her mystic secret then is ours: +We fall, or view our treasures fall, +Unclouded, as beholds her flowers + +Earth, from a night of frosty wreck, +Enrobed in morning's mounted fire, +When lowly, with a broken neck, +The crocus lays her cheek to mire. + + + +THE APPEASEMENT OF DEMETER + + + +I + +Demeter devastated our good land, +In blackness for her daughter snatched below. +Smoke-pillar or loose hillock was the sand, +Where soil had been to clasp warm seed and throw +The wheat, vine, olive, ripe to Summer's ray. +Now whether night advancing, whether day, +Scarce did the baldness show: +The hand of man was a defeated hand. + +II + +Necessity, the primal goad to growth, +Stood shrunken; Youth and Age appeared as one; +Like Winter Summer; good as labour sloth; +Nor was there answer wherefore beamed the sun, +Or why men drew the breath to carry pain. +High reared the ploughshare, broken lay the wain, +Idly the flax-wheel spun +Unridered: starving lords were wasp and moth. + +III + +Lean grassblades losing green on their bent flags, +Sang chilly to themselves; lone honey-bees +Pursued the flowers that were not with dry bags; +Sole sound aloud the snap of sapless trees, +More sharp than slingstones on hard breastplates hurled. +Back to first chaos tumbled the stopped world, +Careless to lure or please. +A nature of gaunt ribs, an earth of crags. + +IV + +No smile Demeter cast: the gloom she saw, +Well draped her direful musing; for in gloom, +In thicker gloom, deep down the cavern-maw, +Her sweet had vanished; liker unto whom, +And whose pale place of habitation mute, +She and all seemed where Seasons, pledged for fruit +Anciently, gaped for bloom: +Where hand of man was as a plucked fowl's claw. + +V + +The wrathful Queen descended on a vale, +That ere the ravished hour for richness heaved. +Iambe, maiden of the merry tale, +Beside her eyed the once red-cheeked, green-leaved. +It looked as if the Deluge had withdrawn. +Pity caught at her throat; her jests were gone. +More than for her who grieved, +She could for this waste home have piped the wail. + +VI + +Iambe, her dear mountain-rivulet +To waken laughter from cold stones, beheld +A riven wheatfield cracking for the wet, +And seed like infant's teeth, that never swelled, +Apeep up flinty ridges, milkless round. +Teeth of the giants marked she where thin ground +Rocky in spikes rebelled +Against the hand here slack as rotted net. + +VII + +The valley people up the ashen scoop +She beckoned, aiming hopelessly to win +Her Mistress in compassion of yon group +So pinched and wizened; with their aged grin, +For lack of warmth to smile on mouths of woe, +White as in chalk outlining little O, +Dumb, from a falling chin; +Young, old, alike half-bent to make the hoop. + +VIII + +Their tongues of birds they wagged, weak-voiced as when +Dark underwaters the recesses choke; +With cluck and upper quiver of a hen +In grasp, past peeking: cry before the croak. +Relentlessly their gold-haired Heaven, their fount +Bountiful of old days, heard them recount +This and that cruel stroke: +Nor eye nor ear had she for piteous men. + +IX + +A figure of black rock by sunbeams crowned +Through stormclouds, where the volumed shades enfold +An earth in awe before the claps resound +And woods and dwellings are as billows rolled, +The barren Nourisher unmelted shed +Death from the looks that wandered with the dead +Out of the realms of gold, +In famine for her lost, her lost unfound. + +X + +Iambe from her Mistress tripped; she raised +The cattle-call above the moan of prayer; +And slowly out of fields their fancy grazed, +Among the droves, defiled a horse and mare: +The wrecks of horse and mare: such ribs as view +Seas that have struck brave ships ashore, while through +Shoots the swift foamspit: bare +They nodded, and Demeter on them gazed. + +XI + +Howbeit the season of the dancing blood, +Forgot was horse of mare, yea, mare of horse: +Reversed, each head at either's flank, they stood. +Whereat the Goddess, in a dim remorse, +Laid hand on them, and smacked; and her touch pricked. +Neighing within, at either's flank they licked; +Played on a moment's force +At courtship, withering to the crazy nod. + +XII + +The nod was that we gather for consent; +And mournfully amid the group a dame, +Interpreting the thing in nature meant, +Her hands held out like bearers of the flame, +And nodded for the negative sideways. +Keen at her Mistress glanced Iambe: rays +From the Great Mother came: +Her lips were opened wide; the curse was rent. + +XIII + +She laughed: since our first harvesting heard none +Like thunder of the song of heart: her face, +The dreadful darkness, shook to mounted sun, +And peal on peal across the hills held chase. +She laughed herself to water; laughed to fire; +Laughed the torrential laugh of dam and sire +Full of the marrowy race. +Her laughter, Gods! was flesh on skeleton. + +XIV + +The valley people huddled, broke, afraid, +Assured, and taking lightning in the veins, +They puffed, they leaped, linked hands, together swayed, +Unwitting happiness till golden rains +Of tears in laughter, laughter weeping, smote +Knowledge of milky mercy from that throat +Pouring to heal their pains: +And one bold youth set mouth at a shy maid. + +XV + +Iambe clapped to see the kindly lusts +Inspire the valley people, still on seas, +Like poplar-tops relieved from stress of gusts, +With rapture in their wonderment; but these, +Low homage being rendered, ran to plough, +Fed by the laugh, as by the mother cow +Calves at the teats they tease: +Soon drove they through the yielding furrow-crusts. + +XVI + +Uprose the blade in green, the leaf in red, +The tree of water and the tree of wood: +And soon among the branches overhead +Gave beauty juicy issue sweet for food. +O Laughter! beauty plumped and love had birth. +Laughter! O thou reviver of sick Earth! +Good for the spirit, good +For body, thou! to both art wine and bread! + + + +EARTH AND A WEDDED WOMAN + + + +I + +The shepherd, with his eye on hazy South, +Has told of rain upon the fall of day. +But promise is there none for Susan's drouth, +That he will come, who keeps in dry delay. +The freshest of the village three years gone, +She hangs as the white field-rose hangs short-lived; +And she and Earth are one +In withering unrevived. +Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain! +And welcome waterspouts, had we sweet rain! + +II + +Ah, what is Marriage, says each pouting maid, +When she who wedded with the soldier hides +At home as good as widowed in the shade, +A lighthouse to the girls that would be brides: +Nor dares to give a lad an ogle, nor +To dream of dancing, but must hang and moan, +Her husband in the war, +And she to lie alone. +Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain! +And welcome waterspouts, had we sweet rain! + +III + +They have not known; they are not in the stream; +Light as the flying seed-ball is their play, +The silly maids! and happy souls they seem; +Yet Grief would not change fates with such as they. +They have not struck the roots which meet the fires +Beneath, and bind us fast with Earth, to know +The strength of her desires, +The sternness of her woe. +Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain! +And welcome waterspouts, had we sweet rain! + +IV + +Now, shepherd, see thy word, where without shower +A borderless low blotting Westward spreads. +The hall-clock holds the valley on the hour; +Across an inner chamber thunder treads: +The dead leaf trips, the tree-top swings, the floor +Of dust whirls, dropping lumped: near thunder speaks, +And drives the dames to door, +Their kerchiefs flapped at cheeks. +Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain! +And welcome waterspouts of blessed rain! + +V + +Through night, with bedroom window wide for air, +Lay Susan tranced to hear all heaven descend: +And gurgling voices came of Earth, and rare, +Past flowerful, breathings, deeper than life's end, +From her heaved breast of sacred common mould; +Whereby this lone-laid wife was moved to feel +Unworded things and old +To her pained heart appeal. +Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain! +And down in deluges of blessed rain! + +VI + +At morn she stood to live for ear and sight, +Love sky or cloud, or rose or grasses drenched. +A lureful devil, that in glow-worm light +Set languor writhing all its folds, she quenched. +But she would muse when neighbours praised her face, +Her services, and staunchness to her mate: +Knowing by some dim trace, +The change might bear a date. +Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain! +Thrice beauteous is our sunshine after rain! + + + +MOTHER TO BABE + + + +I + +Fleck of sky you are, +Dropped through branches dark, +O my little one, mine! +Promise of the star, +Outpour of the lark; +Beam and song divine. + +II + +See this precious gift, +Steeping in new birth +All my being, for sign +Earth to heaven can lift, +Heaven descend on earth, +Both in one be mine! + +III + +Life in light you glass +When you peep and coo, +You, my little one, mine! +Brooklet chirps to grass, +Daisy looks in dew +Up to dear sunshine. + + + +WOODLAND PEACE + + + +Sweet as Eden is the air, +And Eden-sweet the ray. +No Paradise is lost for them +Who foot by branching root and stem, +And lightly with the woodland share +The change of night and day. + +Here all say, +We serve her, even as I: +We brood, we strive to sky, +We gaze upon decay, +We wot of life through death, +How each feeds each we spy; +And is a tangle round, +Are patient; what is dumb +We question not, nor ask +The silent to give sound, +The hidden to unmask, +The distant to draw near. + +And this the woodland saith: +I know not hope or fear; +I take whate'er may come; +I raise my head to aspects fair, +From foul I turn away. + +Sweet as Eden is the air, +And Eden-sweet the ray. + + + +THE QUESTION WHITHER + + + +I + +When we have thrown off this old suit, +So much in need of mending, +To sink among the naked mute, +Is that, think you, our ending? +We follow many, more we lead, +And you who sadly turf us, +Believe not that all living seed +Must flower above the surface. + +II + +Sensation is a gracious gift, +But were it cramped to station, +The prayer to have it cast adrift +Would spout from all sensation. +Enough if we have winked to sun, +Have sped the plough a season; +There is a soul for labour done, +Endureth fixed as reason. + +III + +Then let our trust be firm in Good, +Though we be of the fasting; +Our questions are a mortal brood, +Our work is everlasting. +We children of Beneficence +Are in its being sharers; +And Whither vainer sounds than Whence, +For word with such wayfarers. + + + +OUTER AND INNER + + + +I + +From twig to twig the spider weaves +At noon his webbing fine. +So near to mute the zephyrs flute +That only leaflets dance. +The sun draws out of hazel leaves +A smell of woodland wine. +I wake a swarm to sudden storm +At any step's advance. + +II + +Along my path is bugloss blue, +The star with fruit in moss; +The foxgloves drop from throat to top +A daily lesser bell. +The blackest shadow, nurse of dew, +Has orange skeins across; +And keenly red is one thin thread +That flashing seems to swell. + +III + +My world I note ere fancy comes, +Minutest hushed observe: +What busy bits of motioned wits +Through antlered mosswork strive. +But now so low the stillness hums, +My springs of seeing swerve, +For half a wink to thrill and think +The woods with nymphs alive. + +IV + +I neighbour the invisible +So close that my consent +Is only asked for spirits masked +To leap from trees and flowers. +And this because with them I dwell +In thought, while calmly bent +To read the lines dear Earth designs +Shall speak her life on ours. + +V + +Accept, she says; it is not hard +In woods; but she in towns +Repeats, accept; and have we wept, +And have we quailed with fears, +Or shrunk with horrors, sure reward +We have whom knowledge crowns; +Who see in mould the rose unfold, +The soul through blood and tears. + + + +NATURE AND LIFE + + + +I + +Leave the uproar: at a leap +Thou shalt strike a woodland path, +Enter silence, not of sleep, +Under shadows, not of wrath; +Breath which is the spirit's bath +In the old Beginnings find, +And endow them with a mind, +Seed for seedling, swathe for swathe. +That gives Nature to us, this +Give we her, and so we kiss. + +II + +Fruitful is it so: but hear +How within the shell thou art, +Music sounds; nor other near +Can to such a tremor start. +Of the waves our life is part; +They our running harvests bear: +Back to them for manful air, +Laden with the woodland's heart! +That gives Battle to us, this +Give we it, and good the kiss. + + + +DIRGE IN WOODS + + + +A wind sways the pines, +And below +Not a breath of wild air; +Still as the mosses that glow +On the flooring and over the lines +Of the roots here and there. +The pine-tree drops its dead; +They are quiet, as under the sea. +Overhead, overhead +Rushes life in a race, +As the clouds the clouds chase; +And we go, +And we drop like the fruits of the tree, +Even we, +Even so. + + + +A FAITH ON TRIAL + + + +On the morning of May, +Ere the children had entered my gate +With their wreaths and mechanical lay, +A metal ding-dong of the date! +I mounted our hill, bearing heart +That had little of life save its weight: +The crowned Shadow poising dart +Hung over her: she, my own, +My good companion, mate, +Pulse of me: she who had shown +Fortitude quiet as Earth's +At the shedding of leaves. And around +The sky was in garlands of cloud, +Winning scents from unnumbered new births, +Pointed buds, where the woods were browned +By a mouldered beechen shroud; +Or over our meads of the vale, +Such an answer to sun as he, +Brave in his gold; to a sound, +None sweeter, of woods flapping sail, +With the first full flood of our year, +For their voyage on lustreful sea: +Unto what curtained haven in chief, +Will be writ in the book of the sere. +But surely the crew are we, +Eager or stamped or bowed; +Counted thinner at fall of the leaf. +Grief heard them, and passed like a bier. +Due Summerward, lo, they were set, +In volumes of foliage proud, +On the heave of their favouring tides, +And their song broadened out to the cheer +When a neck of the ramping surf +Rattles thunder a boat overrides. +All smiles ran the highways wet; +The worm drew its links from the turf; +The bird of felicity loud +Spun high, and a South wind blew. +Weak out of sheath downy leaves +Of the beech quivered lucid as dew, +Their radiance asking, who grieves; +For nought of a sorrow they knew: +No space to the dread wrestle vowed, +No chamber in shadow of night. +At times as the steadier breeze +Flutter-huddled their twigs to a crowd, +The beam of them wafted my sight +To league-long sun upon seas: +The golden path we had crossed +Many years, till her birthland swung +Recovered to vision from lost, +A light in her filial glance. +And sweet was her voice with the tongue, +The speechful tongue of her France, +Soon at ripple about us, like rills +Ever busy with little: away +Through her Normandy, down where the mills +Dot at lengths a rivercourse, grey +As its bordering poplars bent +To gusts off the plains above. +Old stone chateau and farms, +Home of her birth and her love! +On the thread of the pasture you trace, +By the river, their milk, for miles, +Spotted once with the English tent, +In days of the tocsin's alarms, +To tower of the tallest of piles, +The country's surveyor breast-high. +Home of her birth and her love! +Home of a diligent race; +Thrifty, deft-handed to ply +Shuttle or needle, and woo +Sun to the roots of the pear +Frogging each mud-walled cot. +The elders had known her in arms. +There plucked we the bluet, her hue +Of the deeper forget-me-not; +Well wedding her ripe-wheat hair. + +I saw, unsighting: her heart +I saw, and the home of her love +There printed, mournfully rent: +Her ebbing adieu, her adieu, +And the stride of the Shadow athwart. +For one of our Autumns there! . . . +Straight as the flight of a dove +We went, swift winging we went. +We trod solid ground, we breathed air, +The heavens were unbroken. Break they, +The word of the world is adieu: +Her word: and the torrents are round, +The jawed wolf-waters of prey. +We stand upon isles, who stand: +A Shadow before us, and back, +A phantom the habited land. +We may cry to the Sunderer, spare +That dearest! he loosens his pack. +Arrows we breathe, not air. +The memories tenderly bound +To us are a drifting crew, +Amid grey-gapped waters for ground. +Alone do we stand, each one, +Till rootless as they we strew +Those deeps of the corse-like stare +At a foreign and stony sun. + +Eyes had I but for the scene +Of my circle, what neighbourly grew. +If haply no finger lay out +To the figures of days that had been, +I gathered my herb, and endured; +My old cloak wrapped me about. +Unfooted was ground-ivy blue, +Whose rustic shrewd odour allured +In Spring's fresh of morning: unseen +Her favourite wood-sorrel bell +As yet, though the leaves' green floor +Awaited their flower, that would tell +Of a red-veined moist yestreen, +With its droop and the hues it wore, +When we two stood overnight +One, in the dark van-glow +On our hill-top, seeing beneath +Our household's twinkle of light +Through spruce-boughs, gem of a wreath. + +Budding, the service-tree, white +Almost as whitebeam, threw, +From the under of leaf upright, +Flecks like a showering snow +On the flame-shaped junipers green, +On the sombre mounds of the yew. +Like silvery tapers bright +By a solemn cathedral screen, +They glistened to closer view. +Turf for a rooks' revel striped +Pleased those devourers astute. +Chorister blackbird and thrush +Together or alternate piped; +A free-hearted harmony large, +With meaning for man, for brute, +When the primitive forces are brimmed. +Like featherings hither and yon +Of aery tree-twigs over marge, +To the comb of the winds, untrimmed, +Their measure is found in the vast. +Grief heard them, and stepped her way on. +She has but a narrow embrace. +Distrustful of hearing she passed. +They piped her young Earth's Bacchic rout; +The race, and the prize of the race; +Earth's lustihead pressing to sprout. + +But sight holds a soberer space. +Colourless dogwood low +Curled up a twisted root, +Nigh yellow-green mosses, to flush +Redder than sun upon rocks, +When the creeper clematis-shoot +Shall climb, cap his branches, and show, +Beside veteran green of the box, +At close of the year's maple blush, +A bleeding greybeard is he, +Now hale in the leafage lush. +Our parasites paint us. Hard by, +A wet yew-trunk flashed the peel +Of our naked forefathers in fight; +With stains of the fray sweating free; +And him came no parasite nigh: +Firm on the hard knotted knee, +He stood in the crown of his dun; +Earth's toughest to stay her wheel: +Under whom the full day is night; +Whom the century-tempests call son, +Having striven to rend him in vain. + +I walked to observe, not to feel, +Not to fancy, if simple of eye +One may be among images reaped +For a shift of the glance, as grain: +Profitless froth you espy +Ashore after billows have leaped. +I fled nothing, nothing pursued: +The changeful visible face +Of our Mother I sought for my food; +Crumbs by the way to sustain. +Her sentence I knew past grace. +Myself I had lost of us twain, +Once bound in mirroring thought. +She had flung me to dust in her wake; +And I, as your convict drags +His chain, by the scourge untaught, +Bore life for a goad, without aim. +I champed the sensations that make +Of a ruffled philosophy rags. +For them was no meaning too blunt, +Nor aspect too cutting of steel. +This Earth of the beautiful breasts, +Shining up in all colours aflame, +To them had visage of hags: +A Mother of aches and jests: +Soulless, heading a hunt +Aimless except for the meal. +Hope, with the star on her front; +Fear, with an eye in the heel; +Our links to a Mother of grace; +They were dead on the nerve, and dead +For the nature divided in three; +Gone out of heart, out of brain, +Out of soul: I had in their place +The calm of an empty room. +We were joined but by that thin thread, +My disciplined habit to see. +And those conjure images, those, +The puppets of loss or gain; +Not he who is bare to his doom; +For whom never semblance plays +To bewitch, overcloud, illume. +The dusty mote-images rose; +Sheer film of the surface awag: +They sank as they rose; their pain +Declaring them mine of old days. + +Now gazed I where, sole upon gloom, +As flower-bush in sun-specked crag, +Up the spine of the double combe +With yew-boughs heavily cloaked, +A young apparition shone: +Known, yet wonderful, white +Surpassingly; doubtfully known, +For it struck as the birth of Light: +Even Day from the dark unyoked. +It waved like a pilgrim flag +O'er processional penitents flown +When of old they broke rounding yon spine: +O the pure wild-cherry in bloom! + +For their Eastward march to the shrine +Of the footsore far-eyed Faith, +Was banner so brave, so fair, +So quick with celestial sign +Of victorious rays over death? +For a conquest of coward despair; - +Division of soul from wits, +And these made rulers;--full sure, +More starlike never did shine +To illumine the sinister field +Where our life's old night-bird flits. +I knew it: with her, my own, +Had hailed it pure of the pure; +Our beacon yearly: but strange +When it strikes to within is the known; +Richer than newness revealed. +There was needed darkness like mine. +Its beauty to vividness blown +Drew the life in me forward, chased, +From aloft on a pinnacle's range, +That hindward spidery line, +The length of the ways I had paced, +A footfarer out of the dawn, +To Youth's wild forest, where sprang, +For the morning of May long gone, +The forest's white virgin; she +Seen yonder; and sheltered me, sang; +She in me, I in her; what songs +The fawn-eared wood-hollows revive +To pour forth their tune-footed throngs; +Inspire to the dreaming of good +Illimitable to come: +She, the white wild cherry, a tree, +Earth-rooted, tangibly wood, +Yet a presence throbbing alive; +Nor she in our language dumb: +A spirit born of a tree; +Because earth-rooted alive: +Huntress of things worth pursuit +Of souls; in our naming, dreams. +And each unto other was lute, +By fits quick as breezy gleams. +My quiver of aims and desires +Had colour that she would have owned; +And if by humaner fires +Hued later, these held her enthroned: +My crescent of Earth; my blood +At the silvery early stir; +Hour of the thrill of the bud +About to burst, and by her +Directed, attuned, englobed: +My Goddess, the chaste, not chill; +Choir over choir white-robed; +White-bosomed fold within fold: +For so could I dream, breast-bare, +In my time of blooming; dream still +Through the maze, the mesh, and the wreck, +Despite, since manhood was bold, +The yoke of the flesh on my neck. +She beckoned, I gazed, unaware +How a shaft of the blossoming tree +Was shot from the yew-wood's core. +I stood to the touch of a key +Turned in a fast-shut door. + +They rounded my garden, content, +The small fry, clutching their fee, +Their fruit of the wreath and the pole; +And, chatter, hop, skip, they were sent, +In a buzz of young company glee, +Their natural music, swift shoal +To the next easy shedders of pence. +Why not? for they had me in tune +With the hungers of my kind. +Do readings of earth draw thence, +Then a concord deeper than cries +Of the Whither whose echo is Whence, +To jar unanswered, shall rise +As a fountain-jet in the mind +Bowed dark o'er the falling and strewn. + +* * * + +Unwitting where it might lead, +How it came, for the anguish to cease, +And the Questions that sow not nor spin, +This wisdom, rough-written, and black, +As of veins that from venom bleed, +I had with the peace within; +Or patience, mortal of peace, +Compressing the surgent strife +In a heart laid open, not mailed, +To the last blank hour of the rack, +When struck the dividing knife: +When the hand that never had failed +In its pressure to mine hung slack. + +But this in myself did I know, +Not needing a studious brow, +Or trust in a governing star, +While my ears held the jangled shout +The children were lifting afar: +That natures at interflow +With all of their past and the now, +Are chords to the Nature without, +Orbs to the greater whole: +First then, nor utterly then +Till our lord of sensations at war, +The rebel, the heart, yields place +To brain, each prompting the soul. +Thus our dear Earth we embrace +For the milk, her strength to men. + +And crave we her medical herb, +We have but to see and hear, +Though pierced by the cruel acerb, +The troops of the memories armed +Hostile to strike at the nest +That nourished and flew them warmed. +Not she gives the tear for the tear. +Weep, bleed, rave, writhe, be distraught, +She is moveless. Not of her breast +Are the symbols we conjure when Fear +Takes leaven of Hope. I caught, +With Death in me shrinking from Death, +As cold from cold, for a sign +Of the life beyond ashes: I cast, +Believing the vision divine, +Wings of that dream of my Youth +To the spirit beloved: 'twas unglassed +On her breast, in her depths austere: +A flash through the mist, mere breath, +Breath on a buckler of steel. +For the flesh in revolt at her laws, +Neither song nor smile in ruth, +Nor promise of things to reveal, +Has she, nor a word she saith: +We are asking her wheels to pause. +Well knows she the cry of unfaith. +If we strain to the farther shore, +We are catching at comfort near. +Assurances, symbols, saws, +Revelations in legends, light +To eyes rolling darkness, these +Desired of the flesh in affright, +For the which it will swear to adore, +She yields not for prayers at her knees; +The woolly beast bleating will shear. +These are our sensual dreams; +Of the yearning to touch, to feel +The dark Impalpable sure, +And have the Unveiled appear; +Whereon ever black she beams, +Doth of her terrible deal, +She who dotes over ripeness at play, +Rosiness fondles and feeds, +Guides it with shepherding crook, +To her sports and her pastures alway. +Not she gives the tear for the tear: +Harsh wisdom gives Earth, no more; +In one the spur and the curb: +An answer to thoughts or deeds; +To the Legends an alien look; +To the Questions a figure of clay. +Yet we have but to see and hear, +Crave we her medical herb. +For the road to her soul is the Real: +The root of the growth of man: +And the senses must traverse it fresh +With a love that no scourge shall abate, +To reach the lone heights where we scan +In the mind's rarer vision this flesh; +In the charge of the Mother our fate; +Her law as the one common weal. + +We, whom the view benumbs, +We, quivering upward, each hour +Know battle in air and in ground +For the breath that goes as it comes, +For the choice between sweet and sour, +For the smallest grain of our worth: +And he who the reckoning sums +Finds nought in his hand save Earth. +Of Earth are we stripped or crowned. +The fleeting Present we crave, +Barter our best to wed, +In hope of a cushioned bower, +What is it but Future and Past +Like wind and tide at a wave! +Idea of the senses, bred +For the senses to snap and devour: +Thin as the shell of a sound +In delivery, withered in light. +Cry we for permanence fast, +Permanence hangs by the grave; +Sits on the grave green-grassed, +On the roll of the heaved grave-mound. +By Death, as by Life, are we fed: +The two are one spring; our bond +With the numbers; with whom to unite +Here feathers wings for beyond: +Only they can waft us in flight. +For they are Reality's flower. +Of them, and the contact with them, +Issues Earth's dearest daughter, the firm +In footing, the stately of stem; +Unshaken though elements lour; +A warrior heart unquelled; +Mirror of Earth, and guide +To the Holies from sense withheld: +Reason, man's germinant fruit. +She wrestles with our old worm +Self in the narrow and wide: +Relentless quencher of lies, +With laughter she pierces the brute; +And hear we her laughter peal, +'Tis Light in us dancing to scour +The loathed recess of his dens; +Scatter his monstrous bed, +And hound him to harrow and plough. +She is the world's one prize; +Our champion, rightfully head; +The vessel whose piloted prow, +Though Folly froth round, hiss and hoot, +Leaves legible print at the keel. +Nor least is the service she does, +That service to her may cleanse +The well of the Sorrows in us; +For a common delight will drain +The rank individual fens +Of a wound refusing to heal +While the old worm slavers its root. + +I bowed as a leaf in rain; +As a tree when the leaf is shed +To winds in the season at wane: +And when from my soul I said, +May the worm be trampled: smite, +Sacred Reality! power +Filled me to front it aright. +I had come of my faith's ordeal. + +It is not to stand on a tower +And see the flat universe reel; +Our mortal sublimities drop +Like raiment by glisterlings worn, +At a sweep of the scythe for the crop. +Wisdom is won of its fight, +The combat incessant; and dries +To mummywrap perching a height. +It chews the contemplative cud +In peril of isolate scorn, +Unfed of the onward flood. +Nor view we a different morn +If we gaze with the deeper sight, +With the deeper thought forewise: +The world is the same, seen through; +The features of men are the same. +But let their historian new +In the language of nakedness write, +Rejoice we to know not shame, +Not a dread, not a doubt: to have done +With the tortures of thought in the throes, +Our animal tangle, and grasp +Very sap of the vital in this: +That from flesh unto spirit man grows +Even here on the sod under sun: +That she of the wanton's kiss, +Broken through with the bite of an asp, +Is Mother of simple truth, +Relentless quencher of lies; +Eternal in thought; discerned +In thought mid-ferry between +The Life and the Death, which are one, +As our breath in and out, joy or teen. +She gives the rich vision to youth, +If we will, of her prompting wise; +Or men by the lash made lean, +Who in harness the mind subserve, +Their title to read her have earned; +Having mastered sensation--insane +At a stroke of the terrified nerve; +And out of the sensual hive +Grown to the flower of brain; +To know her a thing alive, +Whose aspects mutably swerve, +Whose laws immutably reign. +Our sentencer, clother in mist, +Her morn bends breast to her noon, +Noon to the hour dark-dyed, +If we will, of her promptings wise: +Her light is our own if we list. +The legends that sweep her aside, +Crying loud for an opiate boon, +To comfort the human want, +From the bosom of magical skies, +She smiles on, marking their source: +They read her with infant eyes. +Good ships of morality they, +For our crude developing force; +Granite the thought to stay, +That she is a thing alive +To the living, the falling and strewn. +But the Questions, the broods that haunt +Sensation insurgent, may drive, +The way of the channelling mole, +Head in a ground-vault gaunt +As your telescope's skeleton moon. +Barren comfort to these will she dole; +Dead is her face to their cries. +Intelligence pushing to taste +A lesson from beasts might heed. +They scatter a voice in the waste, +Where any dry swish of a reed +By grey-glassy water replies. + +'They see not above or below; +Farthest are they from my soul,' +Earth whispers: 'they scarce have the thirst, +Except to unriddle a rune; +And I spin none; only show, +Would humanity soar from its worst, +Winged above darkness and dole, +How flesh unto spirit must grow. +Spirit raves not for a goal. +Shapes in man's likeness hewn +Desires not; neither desires +The sleep or the glory: it trusts; +Uses my gifts, yet aspires; +Dreams of a higher than it. +The dream is an atmosphere; +A scale still ascending to knit +The clear to the loftier Clear. +'Tis Reason herself, tiptoe +At the ultimate bound of her wit, +On the verges of Night and Day. +But is it a dream of the lusts, +To my dustiest 'tis decreed; +And them that so shuffle astray +I touch with no key of gold +For the wealth of the secret nook; +Though I dote over ripeness at play, +Rosiness fondle and feed, +Guide it with shepherding crook +To my sports and my pastures alway. +The key will shriek in the lock, +The door will rustily hinge, +Will open on features of mould, +To vanish corrupt at a glimpse, +And mock as the wild echoes mock, +Soulless in mimic, doth Greed +Or the passion for fruitage tinge +That dream, for your parricide imps +To wing through the body of Time, +Yourselves in slaying him slay. +Much are you shots of your prime, +You men of the act and the dream: +And please you to fatten a weed +That perishes, pledged to decay, +'Tis dearth in your season of need, +Down the slopes of the shoreward way; - +Nigh on the misty stream, +Where Ferryman under his hood, +With a call to be ready to pay +The small coin, whitens red blood. +But the young ethereal seed +Shall bring you the bread no buyer +Can have for his craving supreme; +To my quenchless quick shall speed +The soul at her wrestle rude +With devil, with angel more dire; +With the flesh, with the Fates, enringed. +The dream of the blossom of Good +Is your banner of battle unrolled +In its waver and current and curve +(Choir over choir white-winged, +White-bosomed fold within fold): +Hopeful of victory most +When hard is the task to sustain +Assaults of the fearful sense +At a mind in desolate mood +With the Whither, whose echo is Whence; +And humanity's clamour, lost, lost; +And its clasp of the staves that snap; +And evil abroad, as a main +Uproarious, bursting its dyke. +For back do you look, and lo, +Forward the harvest of grain! - +Numbers in council, awake +To love more than things of my lap, +Love me; and to let the types break, +Men be grass, rocks rivers, all flow; +All save the dream sink alike +To the source of my vital in sap: +Their battle, their loss, their ache, +For my pledge of vitality know. +The dream is the thought in the ghost; +The thought sent flying for food; +Eyeless, but sprung of an aim +Supernal of Reason, to find +The great Over-Reason we name +Beneficence: mind seeking Mind. +Dream of the blossom of Good, +In its waver and current and curve, +With the hopes of my offspring enscrolled! +Soon to be seen of a host +The flag of the Master I serve! +And life in them doubled on Life, +As flame upon flame, to behold, +High over Time-tumbled sea, +The bliss of his headship of strife, +Him through handmaiden me.' + + + +CHANGE IN RECURRENCE + + + +I + +I stood at the gate of the cot +Where my darling, with side-glance demure, +Would spy, on her trim garden-plot, +The busy wild things chase and lure. +For these with their ways were her feast; +They had surety no enemy lurked. +Their deftest of tricks to their least +She gathered in watch as she worked. + +II + +When berries were red on her ash, +The blackbird would rifle them rough, +Till the ground underneath looked a gash, +And her rogue grew the round of a chough. +The squirrel cocked ear o'er his hoop, +Up the spruce, quick as eye, trailing brush. +She knew any tit of the troop +All as well as the snail-tapping thrush. + +III + +I gazed: 'twas the scene of the frame, +With the face, the dear life for me, fled. +No window a lute to my name, +No watcher there plying the thread. +But the blackbird hung peeking at will; +The squirrel from cone hopped to cone; +The thrush had a snail in his bill, +And tap-tapped the shell hard on a stone. + + + +HYMN TO COLOUR + + + +I + +With Life and Death I walked when Love appeared, +And made them on each side a shadow seem. +Through wooded vales the land of dawn we neared, +Where down smooth rapids whirls the helmless dream +To fall on daylight; and night puts away +Her darker veil for grey. + +II + +In that grey veil green grassblades brushed we by; +We came where woods breathed sharp, and overhead +Rocks raised clear horns on a transforming sky: +Around, save for those shapes, with him who led +And linked them, desert varied by no sign +Of other life than mine. + +III + +By this the dark-winged planet, raying wide, +From the mild pearl-glow to the rose upborne, +Drew in his fires, less faint than far descried, +Pure-fronted on a stronger wave of morn: +And those two shapes the splendour interweaved, +Hung web-like, sank and heaved. + +IV + +Love took my hand when hidden stood the sun +To fling his robe on shoulder-heights of snow. +Then said: There lie they, Life and Death in one. +Whichever is, the other is: but know, +It is thy craving self that thou dost see, +Not in them seeing me. + +V + +Shall man into the mystery of breath, +From his quick beating pulse a pathway spy? +Or learn the secret of the shrouded death, +By lifting up the lid of a white eye? +Cleave thou thy way with fathering desire +Of fire to reach to fire. + +VI + +Look now where Colour, the soul's bridegroom, makes +The house of heaven splendid for the bride. +To him as leaps a fountain she awakes, +In knotting arms, yet boundless: him beside, +She holds the flower to heaven, and by his power +Brings heaven to the flower. + +VII + +He gives her homeliness in desert air, +And sovereignty in spaciousness; he leads +Through widening chambers of surprise to where +Throbs rapture near an end that aye recedes, +Because his touch is infinite and lends +A yonder to all ends. + +VIII + +Death begs of Life his blush; Life Death persuades +To keep long day with his caresses graced. +He is the heart of light, the wing of shades, +The crown of beauty: never soul embraced +Of him can harbour unfaith; soul of him +Possessed walks never dim. + +IX + +Love eyed his rosy memories: he sang: +O bloom of dawn, breathed up from the gold sheaf +Held springing beneath Orient! that dost hang +The space of dewdrops running over leaf; +Thy fleetingness is bigger in the ghost +Than Time with all his host! + +X + +Of thee to say behold, has said adieu: +But love remembers how the sky was green, +And how the grasses glimmered lightest blue; +How saint-like grey took fervour: how the screen +Of cloud grew violet; how thy moment came +Between a blush and flame. + +XI + +Love saw the emissary eglantine +Break wave round thy white feet above the gloom; +Lay finger on thy star; thy raiment line +With cherub wing and limb; wed thy soft bloom, +Gold-quivering like sunrays in thistle-down, +Earth under rolling brown. + +XII + +They do not look through love to look on thee, +Grave heavenliness! nor know they joy of sight, +Who deem the wave of rapt desire must be +Its wrecking and last issue of delight. +Dead seasons quicken in one petal-spot +Of colour unforgot. + +XIII + +This way have men come out of brutishness +To spell the letters of the sky and read +A reflex upon earth else meaningless. +With thee, O fount of the Untimed! to lead, +Drink they of thee, thee eyeing, they unaged +Shall on through brave wars waged. + +XIV + +More gardens will they win than any lost; +The vile plucked out of them, the unlovely slain. +Not forfeiting the beast with which they are crossed, +To stature of the Gods will they attain. +They shall uplift their Earth to meet her Lord, +Themselves the attuning chord! + +XV + +The song had ceased; my vision with the song. +Then of those Shadows, which one made descent +Beside me I knew not: but Life ere long +Came on me in the public ways and bent +Eyes deeper than of old: Death met I too, +And saw the dawn glow through. + + + +MEDITATION UNDER STARS + + + +What links are ours with orbs that are +So resolutely far: +The solitary asks, and they +Give radiance as from a shield: +Still at the death of day, +The seen, the unrevealed. +Implacable they shine +To us who would of Life obtain +An answer for the life we strain +To nourish with one sign. +Nor can imagination throw +The penetrative shaft: we pass +The breath of thought, who would divine +If haply they may grow +As Earth; have our desire to know; +If life comes there to grain from grass, +And flowers like ours of toil and pain; +Has passion to beat bar, +Win space from cleaving brain; +The mystic link attain, +Whereby star holds on star. + +Those visible immortals beam +Allurement to the dream: +Ireful at human hungers brook +No question in the look. +For ever virgin to our sense, +Remote they wane to gaze intense: +Prolong it, and in ruthlessness they smite +The beating heart behind the ball of sight: +Till we conceive their heavens hoar, +Those lights they raise but sparkles frore, +And Earth, our blood-warm Earth, a shuddering prey +To that frigidity of brainless ray. + +Yet space is given for breath of thought +Beyond our bounds when musing: more +When to that musing love is brought, +And love is asked of love's wherefore. +'Tis Earth's, her gift; else have we nought: +Her gift, her secret, here our tie. +And not with her and yonder sky? +Bethink you: were it Earth alone +Breeds love, would not her region be +The sole delight and throne +Of generous Deity? + +To deeper than this ball of sight +Appeal the lustrous people of the night. +Fronting yon shoreless, sown with fiery sails, +It is our ravenous that quails, +Flesh by its craven thirsts and fears distraught. +The spirit leaps alight, +Doubts not in them is he, +The binder of his sheaves, the sane, the right: +Of magnitude to magnitude is wrought, +To feel it large of the great life they hold: +In them to come, or vaster intervolved, +The issues known in us, our unsolved solved: +That there with toil Life climbs the self-same Tree, +Whose roots enrichment have from ripeness dropped. +So may we read and little find them cold: +Let it but be the lord of Mind to guide +Our eyes; no branch of Reason's growing lopped; +Nor dreaming on a dream; but fortified +By day to penetrate black midnight; see, +Hear, feel, outside the senses; even that we, +The specks of dust upon a mound of mould, +We who reflect those rays, though low our place, +To them are lastingly allied. + +So may we read, and little find them cold: +Not frosty lamps illumining dead space, +Not distant aliens, not senseless Powers. +The fire is in them whereof we are born; +The music of their motion may be ours. +Spirit shall deem them beckoning Earth and voiced +Sisterly to her, in her beams rejoiced. +Of love, the grand impulsion, we behold +The love that lends her grace +Among the starry fold. +Then at new flood of customary morn, +Look at her through her showers, +Her mists, her streaming gold, +A wonder edges the familiar face: +She wears no more that robe of printed hours; +Half strange seems Earth, and sweeter than her flowers. + + + +WOODMAN AND ECHO + + + +Close Echo hears the woodman's axe, +To double on it, as in glee, +With clap of hands, and little lacks +Of meaning in her repartee. +For all shall fall, +As one has done, +The tree of me, +Of thee the tree; +And unto all +The fate we wait +Reveals the wheels +Whereon we run: +We tower to flower, +We spread the shade, +We drop for crop, +At length are laid; +Are rolled in mould, +From chop and lop: +And are we thick in woodland tracks, +Or tempting of our stature we, +The end is one, we do but wax +For service over land and sea. +So, strike! the like +Shall thus of us, +My brawny woodman, claim the tax. +Nor foe thy blow, +Though wood be good, +And shriekingly the timber cracks: +The ground we crowned +Shall speed the seed +Of younger into swelling sacks. + +For use he hews, +To make awake +The spirit of what stuff we be: +Our earth of mirth +And tears he clears +For braver, let our minds agree; +And then will men +Within them win +An Echo clapping harmony. + + + +THE WISDOM OF ELD + + + +We spend our lives in learning pilotage, +And grow good steersmen when the vessel's crank! +Gap-toothed he spake, and with a tottering shank +Sidled to gain the sunny bench of Age. +It is the sentence which completes that stage; +A testament of wisdom reading blank. +The seniors of the race, on their last plank, +Pass mumbling it as nature's final page. +These, bent by such experience, are the band +Who captain young enthusiasts to maintain +What things we view, and Earth's decree withstand, +Lest dreaded Change, long dammed by dull decay, +Should bring the world a vessel steered by brain, +And ancients musical at close of day. + + + +EARTH'S PREFERENCE + + + +Earth loves her young: a preference manifest: +She prompts them to her fruits and flower-beds; +Their beauty with her choicest interthreads, +And makes her revel of their merry zest; +As in our East much were it in our West, +If men had risen to do the work of heads. +Her gabbling grey she eyes askant, nor treads +The ways they walk; by what they speak oppressed. +How wrought they in their zenith? 'Tis not writ; +Not all; yet she by one sure sign can read: +Have they but held her laws and nature dear, +They mouth no sentence of inverted wit. +More prizes she her beasts than this high breed +Wry in the shape she wastes her milk to rear. + + + +SOCIETY + + + +Historic be the survey of our kind, +And how their brave Society took shape. +Lion, wolf, vulture, fox, jackal and ape, +The strong of limb, the keen of nose, we find, +Who, with some jars in harmony, combined, +Their primal instincts taming, to escape +The brawl indecent, and hot passions drape. +Convenience pricked conscience, that the mind. +Thus entered they the field of milder beasts, +Which in some sort of civil order graze, +And do half-homage to the God of Laws. +But are they still for their old ravenous feasts, +Earth gives the edifice they build no base: +They spring another flood of fangs and claws. + + + +WINTER HEAVENS + + + +Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive +Leap off the rim of earth across the dome. +It is a night to make the heavens our home +More than the nest whereto apace we strive. +Lengths down our road each fir-tree seems a hive, +In swarms outrushing from the golden comb. +They waken waves of thoughts that burst to foam: +The living throb in me, the dead revive. +Yon mantle clothes us: there, past mortal breath, +Life glistens on the river of the death. +It folds us, flesh and dust; and have we knelt, +Or never knelt, or eyed as kine the springs +Of radiance, the radiance enrings: +And this is the soul's haven to have felt. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg eText Poems by George Meredith - Volume 2 + |