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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18673-8.txt b/18673-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2ea9a81 --- /dev/null +++ b/18673-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4728 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Astrophel and Other Poems, by Algernon Charles Swinburne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Astrophel and Other Poems + Taken from The Collected Poetical Works of Algernon Charles + Swinburne, Vol. VI + +Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne + +Release Date: June 24, 2006 [EBook #18673] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTROPHEL AND OTHER POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Paul Murray, Lisa Reigel, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Greek words in this text have been transliterated +and placed between +marks+.] + + + + +Astrophel and other poems + + +By + +Algernon Charles Swinburne + + +Taken from The Collected Poetical Works of Algernon Charles +Swinburne--Vol. VI + + + + +THE COLLECTED POETICAL WORKS OF ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE + +VOL. VI + + +A MIDSUMMER HOLIDAY: ASTROPHEL: A CHANNEL PASSAGE AND OTHER TALES + + + + +SWINBURNE'S POETICAL WORKS + + I. POEMS AND BALLADS (First Series). + + II. SONGS BEFORE SUNRISE, AND SONGS OF TWO NATIONS. + +III. POEMS AND BALLADS (Second and Third Series), and SONGS OF THE + SPRINGTIDES. + + IV. TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE, THE TALE OF BALEN, ATALANTA IN CALYDON, + ERECHTHEUS. + + V. STUDIES IN SONG, A CENTURY OF ROUNDELS, SONNETS ON ENGLISH DRAMATIC + POETS, THE HEPTALOGIA, ETC. + + VI. A MIDSUMMER HOLIDAY, ASTROPHEL, A CHANNEL PASSAGE AND OTHER POEMS. + + +LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN + + + + +A MIDSUMMER HOLIDAY: ASTROPHEL: A CHANNEL PASSAGE AND OTHER POEMS + +By + +Algernon Charles Swinburne + + +1917 + +LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN + + +_First printed_ (_Chatto_), 1904 + +_Reprinted_ 1904, '09, '10, '12 + +(_Heinemann_), 1917 + + +_London: William Heinemann_, 1917 + + + + +ASTROPHEL AND OTHER POEMS + + +ASTROPHEL 121 + +A NYMPHOLEPT 127 + +ON THE SOUTH COAST 141 + +AN AUTUMN VISION 149 + +A SWIMMER'S DREAM 159 + +GRACE DARLING 164 + +LOCH TORRIDON 171 + +THE PALACE OF PAN 178 + +A YEAR'S CAROLS 181 + +ENGLAND: AN ODE 186 + +ETON: AN ODE 191 + +THE UNION 194 + +EAST TO WEST 196 + +INSCRIPTIONS FOR THE FOUR SIDES OF A PEDESTAL 197 + +ON THE DEATH OF RICHARD BURTON 199 + +ELEGY 202 + +A SEQUENCE OF SONNETS ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT BROWNING 208 + +SUNSET AND MOONRISE 212 + +BIRTHDAY ODE 214 + +THRENODY 217 + +THE BALLAD OF MELICERTES 220 + +AU TOMBEAU DE BANVILLE 222 + +LIGHT: AN EPICEDE 223 + +THRENODY 225 + +A DIRGE 227 + +A REMINISCENCE 229 + +VIA DOLOROSA 230 + + I. TRANSFIGURATION 231 + + II. DELIVERANCE 232 + + III. THANKSGIVING 233 + + IV. LIBITINA VERTICORDIA 234 + + V. THE ORDER OF RELEASE 235 + + VI. PSYCHAGOGOS 236 + + VII. THE LAST WORD 237 + +IN MEMORY OF AURELIO SAFFI 238 + +THE FESTIVAL OF BEATRICE 242 + +THE MONUMENT OF GIORDANO BRUNO 243 + +LIFE IN DEATH 245 + +EPICEDE 246 + +MEMORIAL VERSES ON THE DEATH OF WILLIAM BELL SCOTT 249 + +AN OLD SAYING 253 + +A MOSS-ROSE 254 + +TO A CAT 255 + +HAWTHORN DYKE 258 + +THE BROTHERS 259 + +JACOBITE SONG 263 + +THE BALLAD OF DEAD MEN'S BAY 266 + +DEDICATION 271 + + + + +ASTROPHEL AND OTHER POEMS + + +TO WILLIAM MORRIS + + + + + ASTROPHEL + + AFTER READING SIR PHILIP SIDNEY'S ARCADIA IN THE + GARDEN OF AN OLD ENGLISH MANOR HOUSE + + + I + + A star in the silence that follows + The song of the death of the sun + Speaks music in heaven, and the hollows + And heights of the world are as one; + One lyre that outsings and outlightens + The rapture of sunset, and thrills + Mute night till the sense of it brightens + The soul that it fills. + + The flowers of the sun that is sunken + Hang heavy of heart as of head; + The bees that have eaten and drunken + The soul of their sweetness are fled; + But a sunflower of song, on whose honey + My spirit has fed as a bee, + Makes sunnier than morning was sunny + The twilight for me. + + The letters and lines on the pages + That sundered mine eyes and the flowers + Wax faint as the shadows of ages + That sunder their season and ours; + As the ghosts of the centuries that sever + A season of colourless time + From the days whose remembrance is ever, + As they were, sublime. + + The season that bred and that cherished + The soul that I commune with yet, + Had it utterly withered and perished + To rise not again as it set, + Shame were it that Englishmen living + Should read as their forefathers read + The books of the praise and thanksgiving + Of Englishmen dead. + + O light of the land that adored thee + And kindled thy soul with her breath, + Whose life, such as fate would afford thee, + Was lovelier than aught but thy death, + By what name, could thy lovers but know it, + Might love of thee hail thee afar, + Philisides, Astrophel, poet + Whose love was thy star? + + A star in the moondawn of Maytime, + A star in the cloudland of change; + Too splendid and sad for the daytime + To cheer or eclipse or estrange; + Too sweet for tradition or vision + To see but through shadows of tears + Rise deathless across the division + Of measureless years. + + The twilight may deepen and harden + As nightward the stream of it runs + Till starshine transfigure a garden + Whose radiance responds to the sun's: + The light of the love of thee darkens + The lights that arise and that set: + The love that forgets thee not hearkens + If England forget. + + + II + + Bright and brief in the sight of grief and love the light of thy + lifetime shone, + Seen and felt by the gifts it dealt, the grace it gave, and again + was gone: + Ay, but now it is death, not thou, whom time has conquered as years + pass on. + + Ay, not yet may the land forget that bore and loved thee and + praised and wept, + Sidney, lord of the stainless sword, the name of names that her + heart's love kept + Fast as thine did her own, a sign to light thy life till it sank + and slept. + + Bright as then for the souls of men thy brave Arcadia resounds and + shines, + Lit with love that beholds above all joys and sorrows the steadfast + signs, + Faith, a splendour that hope makes tender, and truth, whose presage + the soul divines. + + All the glory that girds the story of all thy life as with sunlight + round, + All the spell that on all souls fell who saw thy spirit, and held + them bound, + Lives for all that have heard the call and cadence yet of its music + sound. + + Music bright as the soul of light, for wings an eagle, for notes a + dove, + Leaps and shines from the lustrous lines wherethrough thy soul from + afar above + Shone and sang till the darkness rang with light whose fire is the + fount of love. + + Love that led thee alive, and fed thy soul with sorrows and joys + and fears, + Love that sped thee, alive and dead, to fame's fair goal with thy + peerless peers, + Feeds the flame of thy quenchless name with light that lightens the + rayless years. + + Dark as sorrow though night and morrow may lower with presage of + clouded fame, + How may she that of old bare thee, may Sidney's England, be brought + to shame? + How should this be, while England is? What need of answer beyond + thy name? + + + III + + From the love that transfigures thy glory, + From the light of the dawn of thy death, + The life of thy song and thy story + Took subtler and fierier breath. + And we, though the day and the morrow + Set fear and thanksgiving at strife, + Hail yet in the star of thy sorrow + The sun of thy life. + + Shame and fear may beset men here, and bid thanksgiving and pride + be dumb: + Faith, discrowned of her praise, and wound about with toils till + her life wax numb, + Scarce may see if the sundawn be, if darkness die not and dayrise + come. + + But England, enmeshed and benetted + With spiritless villainies round, + With counsels of cowardice fretted, + With trammels of treason enwound, + Is yet, though the season be other + Than wept and rejoiced over thee, + Thine England, thy lover, thy mother, + Sublime as the sea. + + Hers wast thou: if her face be now less bright, or seem for an hour + less brave, + Let but thine on her darkness shine, thy saviour spirit revive and + save, + Time shall see, as the shadows flee, her shame entombed in a + shameful grave. + + If death and not life were the portal + That opens on life at the last, + If the spirit of Sidney were mortal + And the past of it utterly past, + Fear stronger than honour was ever, + Forgetfulness mightier than fame, + Faith knows not if England should never + Subside into shame. + + Yea, but yet is thy sun not set, thy sunbright spirit of trust + withdrawn: + England's love of thee burns above all hopes that darken or fears + that fawn: + Hers thou art: and the faithful heart that hopes begets upon + darkness dawn. + + The sunset that sunrise will follow + Is less than the dream of a dream: + The starshine on height and on hollow + Sheds promise that dawn shall redeem: + The night, if the daytime would hide it, + Shows lovelier, aflame and afar, + Thy soul and thy Stella's beside it, + A star by a star. + + + + + A NYMPHOLEPT + + + Summer, and noon, and a splendour of silence, felt, + Seen, and heard of the spirit within the sense. + Soft through the frondage the shades of the sunbeams melt, + Sharp through the foliage the shafts of them, keen and dense, + Cleave, as discharged from the string of the God's bow, tense + As a war-steed's girth, and bright as a warrior's belt. + Ah, why should an hour that is heaven for an hour pass hence? + + I dare not sleep for delight of the perfect hour, + Lest God be wroth that his gift should be scorned of man. + The face of the warm bright world is the face of a flower, + The word of the wind and the leaves that the light winds fan + As the word that quickened at first into flame, and ran, + Creative and subtle and fierce with invasive power, + Through darkness and cloud, from the breath of the one God, Pan. + + The perfume of earth possessed by the sun pervades + The chaster air that he soothes but with sense of sleep. + Soft, imminent, strong as desire that prevails and fades, + The passing noon that beholds not a cloudlet weep + Imbues and impregnates life with delight more deep + Than dawn or sunset or moonrise on lawns or glades + Can shed from the skies that receive it and may not keep. + + The skies may hold not the splendour of sundown fast; + It wanes into twilight as dawn dies down into day. + And the moon, triumphant when twilight is overpast, + Takes pride but awhile in the hours of her stately sway. + But the might of the noon, though the light of it pass away, + Leaves earth fulfilled of desires and of dreams that last; + But if any there be that hath sense of them none can say. + + For if any there be that hath sight of them, sense, or trust + Made strong by the might of a vision, the strength of a dream, + His lips shall straiten and close as a dead man's must, + His heart shall be sealed as the voice of a frost-bound stream. + For the deep mid mystery of light and of heat that seem + To clasp and pierce dark earth, and enkindle dust, + Shall a man's faith say what it is? or a man's guess deem? + + Sleep lies not heavier on eyes that have watched all night + Than hangs the heat of the noon on the hills and trees. + Why now should the haze not open, and yield to sight + A fairer secret than hope or than slumber sees? + I seek not heaven with submission of lips and knees, + With worship and prayer for a sign till it leap to light: + I gaze on the gods about me, and call on these. + + I call on the gods hard by, the divine dim powers + Whose likeness is here at hand, in the breathless air, + In the pulseless peace of the fervid and silent flowers, + In the faint sweet speech of the waters that whisper there. + Ah, what should darkness do in a world so fair? + The bent-grass heaves not, the couch-grass quails not or cowers; + The wind's kiss frets not the rowan's or aspen's hair. + + But the silence trembles with passion of sound suppressed, + And the twilight quivers and yearns to the sunward, wrung + With love as with pain; and the wide wood's motionless breast + Is thrilled with a dumb desire that would fain find tongue + And palpitates, tongueless as she whom a man-snake stung, + Whose heart now heaves in the nightingale, never at rest + Nor satiated ever with song till her last be sung. + + Is it rapture or terror that circles me round, and invades + Each vein of my life with hope--if it be not fear? + Each pulse that awakens my blood into rapture fades, + Each pulse that subsides into dread of a strange thing near + Requickens with sense of a terror less dread than dear. + Is peace not one with light in the deep green glades + Where summer at noonday slumbers? Is peace not here? + + The tall thin stems of the firs, and the roof sublime + That screens from the sun the floor of the steep still wood, + Deep, silent, splendid, and perfect and calm as time, + Stand fast as ever in sight of the night they stood, + When night gave all that moonlight and dewfall could. + The dense ferns deepen, the moss glows warm as the thyme: + The wild heath quivers about me: the world is good. + + Is it Pan's breath, fierce in the tremulous maidenhair, + That bids fear creep as a snake through the woodlands, felt + In the leaves that it stirs not yet, in the mute bright air, + In the stress of the sun? For here has the great God dwelt: + For hence were the shafts of his love or his anger dealt. + For here has his wrath been fierce as his love was fair, + When each was as fire to the darkness its breath bade melt. + + Is it love, is it dread, that enkindles the trembling noon, + That yearns, reluctant in rapture that fear has fed, + As man for woman, as woman for man? Full soon, + If I live, and the life that may look on him drop not dead, + Shall the ear that hears not a leaf quake hear his tread, + The sense that knows not the sound of the deep day's tune + Receive the God, be it love that he brings or dread. + + The naked noon is upon me: the fierce dumb spell, + The fearful charm of the strong sun's imminent might, + Unmerciful, steadfast, deeper than seas that swell, + Pervades, invades, appals me with loveless light, + With harsher awe than breathes in the breath of night. + Have mercy, God who art all! For I know thee well, + How sharp is thine eye to lighten, thine hand to smite. + + The whole wood feels thee, the whole air fears thee: but fear + So deep, so dim, so sacred, is wellnigh sweet. + For the light that hangs and broods on the woodlands here, + Intense, invasive, intolerant, imperious, and meet + To lighten the works of thine hands and the ways of thy feet, + Is hot with the fire of the breath of thy life, and dear + As hope that shrivels or shrinks not for frost or heat. + + Thee, thee the supreme dim godhead, approved afar, + Perceived of the soul and conceived of the sense of man, + We scarce dare love, and we dare not fear: the star + We call the sun, that lit us when life began + To brood on the world that is thine by his grace for a span, + Conceals and reveals in the semblance of things that are + Thine immanent presence, the pulse of thy heart's life, Pan. + + The fierce mid noon that wakens and warms the snake + Conceals thy mercy, reveals thy wrath: and again + The dew-bright hour that assuages the twilight brake + Conceals thy wrath and reveals thy mercy: then + Thou art fearful only for evil souls of men + That feel with nightfall the serpent within them wake, + And hate the holy darkness on glade and glen. + + Yea, then we know not and dream not if ill things be, + Or if aught of the work of the wrong of the world be thine. + We hear not the footfall of terror that treads the sea, + We hear not the moan of winds that assail the pine: + We see not if shipwreck reign in the storm's dim shrine; + If death do service and doom bear witness to thee + We see not,--know not if blood for thy lips be wine. + + But in all things evil and fearful that fear may scan, + As in all things good, as in all things fair that fall, + We know thee present and latent, the lord of man; + In the murmuring of doves, in the clamouring of winds that call + And wolves that howl for their prey; in the midnight's pall, + In the naked and nymph-like feet of the dawn, O Pan, + And in each life living, O thou the God who art all. + + Smiling and singing, wailing and wringing of hands, + Laughing and weeping, watching and sleeping, still + Proclaim but and prove but thee, as the shifted sands + Speak forth and show but the strength of the sea's wild will + That sifts and grinds them as grain in the storm-wind's mill. + In thee is the doom that falls and the doom that stands: + The tempests utter thy word, and the stars fulfil. + + Where Etna shudders with passion and pain volcanic + That rend her heart as with anguish that rends a man's, + Where Typho labours, and finds not his thews Titanic, + In breathless torment that ever the flame's breath fans, + Men felt and feared thee of old, whose pastoral clans + Were given to the charge of thy keeping; and soundless panic + Held fast the woodland whose depths and whose heights were Pan's. + + And here, though fear be less than delight, and awe + Be one with desire and with worship of earth and thee, + So mild seems now thy secret and speechless law, + So fair and fearless and faithful and godlike she, + So soft the spell of thy whisper on stream and sea, + Yet man should fear lest he see what of old men saw + And withered: yet shall I quail if thy breath smite me. + + Lord God of life and of light and of all things fair, + Lord God of ravin and ruin and all things dim, + Death seals up life, and darkness the sunbright air, + And the stars that watch blind earth in the deep night swim + Laugh, saying, "What God is your God, that ye call on him? + What is man, that the God who is guide of our way should care + If day for a man be golden, or night be grim?" + + But thou, dost thou hear? Stars too but abide for a span, + Gods too but endure for a season; but thou, if thou be + God, more than shadows conceived and adored of man, + Kind Gods and fierce, that bound him or made him free, + The skies that scorn us are less in thy sight than we, + Whose souls have strength to conceive and perceive thee, Pan, + With sense more subtle than senses that hear and see. + + Yet may not it say, though it seek thee and think to find + One soul of sense in the fire and the frost-bound clod, + What heart is this, what spirit alive or blind, + That moves thee: only we know that the ways we trod + We tread, with hands unguided, with feet unshod, + With eyes unlightened; and yet, if with steadfast mind, + Perchance may we find thee and know thee at last for God. + + Yet then should God be dark as the dawn is bright, + And bright as the night is dark on the world--no more. + Light slays not darkness, and darkness absorbs not light; + And the labour of evil and good from the years of yore + Is even as the labour of waves on a sunless shore. + And he who is first and last, who is depth and height, + Keeps silence now, as the sun when the woods wax hoar. + + The dark dumb godhead innate in the fair world's life + Imbues the rapture of dawn and of noon with dread, + Infects the peace of the star-shod night with strife, + Informs with terror the sorrow that guards the dead. + No service of bended knee or of humbled head + May soothe or subdue the God who has change to wife: + And life with death is as morning with evening wed. + + And yet, if the light and the life in the light that here + Seem soft and splendid and fervid as sleep may seem + Be more than the shine of a smile or the flash of a tear, + Sleep, change, and death are less than a spell-struck dream, + And fear than the fall of a leaf on a starlit stream. + And yet, if the hope that hath said it absorb not fear, + What helps it man that the stars and the waters gleam? + + What helps it man, that the noon be indeed intense, + The night be indeed worth worship? Fear and pain + Were lords and masters yet of the secret sense, + Which now dares deem not that light is as darkness, fain + Though dark dreams be to declare it, crying in vain. + For whence, thou God of the light and the darkness, whence + Dawns now this vision that bids not the sunbeams wane? + + What light, what shadow, diviner than dawn or night, + Draws near, makes pause, and again--or I dream--draws near? + More soft than shadow, more strong than the strong sun's light, + More pure than moonbeams--yea, but the rays run sheer + As fire from the sun through the dusk of the pinewood, clear + And constant; yea, but the shadow itself is bright + That the light clothes round with love that is one with fear. + + Above and behind it the noon and the woodland lie, + Terrible, radiant with mystery, superb and subdued, + Triumphant in silence; and hardly the sacred sky + Seems free from the tyrannous weight of the dumb fierce mood + Which rules as with fire and invasion of beams that brood + The breathless rapture of earth till its hour pass by + And leave her spirit released and her peace renewed. + + I sleep not: never in sleep has a man beholden + This. From the shadow that trembles and yearns with light + Suppressed and elate and reluctant--obscure and golden + As water kindled with presage of dawn or night-- + A form, a face, a wonder to sense and sight, + Grows great as the moon through the month; and her eyes embolden + Fear, till it change to desire, and desire to delight. + + I sleep not: sleep would die of a dream so strange; + A dream so sweet would die as a rainbow dies, + As a sunbow laughs and is lost on the waves that range + And reck not of light that flickers or spray that flies. + But the sun withdraws not, the woodland shrinks not or sighs, + No sweet thing sickens with sense or with fear of change; + Light wounds not, darkness blinds not, my steadfast eyes. + + Only the soul in my sense that receives the soul + Whence now my spirit is kindled with breathless bliss + Knows well if the light that wounds it with love makes whole, + If hopes that carol be louder than fears that hiss, + If truth be spoken of flowers and of waves that kiss, + Of clouds and stars that contend for a sunbright goal. + And yet may I dream that I dream not indeed of this? + + An earth-born dreamer, constrained by the bonds of birth, + Held fast by the flesh, compelled by his veins that beat + And kindle to rapture or wrath, to desire or to mirth, + May hear not surely the fall of immortal feet, + May feel not surely if heaven upon earth be sweet; + And here is my sense fulfilled of the joys of earth, + Light, silence, bloom, shade, murmur of leaves that meet. + + Bloom, fervour, and perfume of grasses and flowers aglow, + Breathe and brighten about me: the darkness gleams, + The sweet light shivers and laughs on the slopes below, + Made soft by leaves that lighten and change like dreams; + The silence thrills with the whisper of secret streams + That well from the heart of the woodland: these I know: + Earth bore them, heaven sustained them with showers and beams. + + I lean my face to the heather, and drink the sun + Whose flame-lit odour satiates the flowers: mine eyes + Close, and the goal of delight and of life is one: + No more I crave of earth or her kindred skies. + No more? But the joy that springs from them smiles and flies: + The sweet work wrought of them surely, the good work done, + If the mind and the face of the season be loveless, dies. + + Thee, therefore, thee would I come to, cleave to, cling, + If haply thy heart be kind and thy gifts be good, + Unknown sweet spirit, whose vesture is soft in spring, + In summer splendid, in autumn pale as the wood + That shudders and wanes and shrinks as a shamed thing should, + In winter bright as the mail of a war-worn king + Who stands where foes fled far from the face of him stood. + + My spirit or thine is it, breath of thy life or of mine, + Which fills my sense with a rapture that casts out fear? + Pan's dim frown wanes, and his wild eyes brighten as thine, + Transformed as night or as day by the kindling year. + Earth-born, or mine eye were withered that sees, mine ear + That hears were stricken to death by the sense divine, + Earth-born I know thee: but heaven is about me here. + + The terror that whispers in darkness and flames in light, + The doubt that speaks in the silence of earth and sea, + The sense, more fearful at noon than in midmost night, + Of wrath scarce hushed and of imminent ill to be, + Where are they? Heaven is as earth, and as heaven to me + Earth: for the shadows that sundered them here take flight; + And nought is all, as am I, but a dream of thee. + + + + + ON THE SOUTH COAST + + TO THEODORE WATTS + + + Hills and valleys where April rallies his radiant squadron of + flowers and birds, + Steep strange beaches and lustrous reaches of fluctuant sea that + the land engirds, + Fields and downs that the sunrise crowns with life diviner than + lives in words, + + Day by day of resurgent May salute the sun with sublime acclaim, + Change and brighten with hours that lighten and darken, girdled + with cloud or flame; + Earth's fair face in alternate grace beams, blooms, and lowers, and + is yet the same. + + Twice each day the divine sea's play makes glad with glory that + comes and goes + Field and street that her waves keep sweet, when past the bounds of + their old repose, + Fast and fierce in renewed reverse, the foam-flecked estuary ebbs + and flows. + + Broad and bold through the stays of old staked fast with trunks of + the wildwood tree, + Up from shoreward, impelled far forward, by marsh and meadow, by + lawn and lea, + Inland still at her own wild will swells, rolls, and revels the + surging sea. + + Strong as time, and as faith sublime,--clothed round with shadows + of hopes and fears, + Nights and morrows, and joys and sorrows, alive with passion of + prayers and tears,-- + Stands the shrine that has seen decline eight hundred waxing and + waning years. + + Tower set square to the storms of air and change of season that + glooms and glows, + Wall and roof of it tempest-proof, and equal ever to suns and + snows, + Bright with riches of radiant niches and pillars smooth as a + straight stem grows. + + Aisle and nave that the whelming wave of time has whelmed not or + touched or neared, + Arch and vault without stain or fault, by hands of craftsmen we + know not reared, + Time beheld them, and time was quelled; and change passed by them + as one that feared. + + Time that flies as a dream, and dies as dreams that die with the + sleep they feed, + Here alone in a garb of stone incarnate stands as a god indeed, + Stern and fair, and of strength to bear all burdens mortal to man's + frail seed. + + Men and years are as leaves or tears that storm or sorrow is fain + to shed: + These go by as the winds that sigh, and none takes note of them + quick or dead: + Time, whose breath is their birth and death, folds here his + pinions, and bows his head. + + Still the sun that beheld begun the work wrought here of unwearied + hands + Sees, as then, though the Red King's men held ruthless rule over + lawless lands, + Stand their massive design, impassive, pure and proud as a virgin + stands. + + Statelier still as the years fulfil their count, subserving her + sacred state, + Grows the hoary grey church whose story silence utters and age + makes great: + Statelier seems it than shines in dreams the face unveiled of + unvanquished fate. + + Fate, more high than the star-shown sky, more deep than waters + unsounded, shines + Keen and far as the final star on souls that seek not for charms or + signs; + Yet more bright is the love-shown light of men's hands lighted in + songs or shrines. + + Love and trust that the grave's deep dust can soil not, neither may + fear put out, + Witness yet that their record set stands fast, though years be as + hosts in rout, + Spent and slain; but the signs remain that beat back darkness and + cast forth doubt. + + Men that wrought by the grace of thought and toil things goodlier + than praise dare trace, + Fair as all that the world may call most fair, save only the sea's + own face, + Shrines or songs that the world's change wrongs not, live by grace + of their own gift's grace. + + Dead, their names that the night reclaims--alive, their works that + the day relumes-- + Sink and stand, as in stone and sand engraven: none may behold + their tombs: + Nights and days shall record their praise while here this flower of + their grafting blooms. + + Flower more fair than the sun-thrilled air bids laugh and lighten + and wax and rise, + Fruit more bright than the fervent light sustains with strength + from the kindled skies, + Flower and fruit that the deathless root of man's love rears though + the man's name dies. + + Stately stands it, the work of hands unknown of: statelier, afar + and near, + Rise around it the heights that bound our landward gaze from the + seaboard here; + Downs that swerve and aspire, in curve and change of heights that + the dawn holds dear. + + Dawn falls fair on the grey walls there confronting dawn, on the + low green lea, + Lone and sweet as for fairies' feet held sacred, silent and strange + and free, + Wild and wet with its rills; but yet more fair falls dawn on the + fairer sea. + + Eastward, round by the high green bound of hills that fold the + remote fields in, + Strive and shine on the low sea-line fleet waves and beams when the + days begin; + Westward glow, when the days burn low, the sun that yields and the + stars that win. + + Rose-red eve on the seas that heave sinks fair as dawn when the + first ray peers; + Winds are glancing from sunbright Lancing to Shoreham, crowned with + the grace of years; + Shoreham, clad with the sunset, glad and grave with glory that + death reveres. + + Death, more proud than the kings' heads bowed before him, stronger + than all things, bows + Here his head: as if death were dead, and kingship plucked from his + crownless brows, + Life hath here such a face of cheer as change appals not and time + avows. + + Skies fulfilled with the sundown, stilled and splendid, spread as a + flower that spreads, + Pave with rarer device and fairer than heaven's the luminous + oyster-beds, + Grass-embanked, and in square plots ranked, inlaid with gems that + the sundown sheds. + + Squares more bright and with lovelier light than heaven that + kindled it shines with shine + Warm and soft as the dome aloft, but heavenlier yet than the sun's + own shrine: + Heaven is high, but the water-sky lit here seems deeper and more + divine. + + Flowers on flowers, that the whole world's bowers may show not, + here may the sunset show, + Lightly graven in the waters paven with ghostly gold by the clouds + aglow: + Bright as love is the vault above, but lovelier lightens the wave + below. + + Rosy grey, or as fiery spray full-plumed, or greener than emerald, + gleams + Plot by plot as the skies allot for each its glory, divine as + dreams + Lit with fire of appeased desire which sounds the secret of all + that seems; + + Dreams that show what we fain would know, and know not save by the + grace of sleep, + Sleep whose hands have removed the bands that eyes long waking and + fain to weep + Feel fast bound on them--light around them strange, and darkness + above them steep. + + Yet no vision that heals division of love from love, and renews + awhile + Life and breath in the lips where death has quenched the spirit of + speech and smile, + Shows on earth, or in heaven's mid mirth, where no fears enter or + doubts defile, + + Aught more fair than the radiant air and water here by the twilight + wed, + Here made one by the waning sun whose last love quickens to + rosebright red + Half the crown of the soft high down that rears to northward its + wood-girt head. + + There, when day is at height of sway, men's eyes who stand, as we + oft have stood, + High where towers with its world of flowers the golden spinny that + flanks the wood, + See before and around them shore and seaboard glad as their gifts + are good. + + Higher and higher to the north aspire the green smooth-swelling + unending downs; + East and west on the brave earth's breast glow girdle-jewels of + gleaming towns; + Southward shining, the lands declining subside in peace that the + sea's light crowns. + + Westward wide in its fruitful pride the plain lies lordly with + plenteous grace; + Fair as dawn's when the fields and lawns desire her glitters the + glad land's face: + Eastward yet is the sole sign set of elder days and a lordlier + race. + + Down beneath us afar, where seethe in wilder weather the tides + aflow, + Hurled up hither and drawn down thither in quest of rest that they + may not know, + Still as dew on a flower the blue broad stream now sleeps in the + fields below. + + Mild and bland in the fair green land it smiles, and takes to its + heart the sky; + Scarce the meads and the fens, the reeds and grasses, still as they + stand or lie, + Wear the palm of a statelier calm than rests on waters that pass + them by. + + Yet shall these, when the winds and seas of equal days and coequal + nights + Rage, rejoice, and uplift a voice whose sound is even as a sword + that smites, + Felt and heard as a doomsman's word from seaward reaches to + landward heights, + + Lift their heart up, and take their part of triumph, swollen and + strong with rage, + Rage elate with desire and great with pride that tempest and storm + assuage; + So their chime in the ear of time has rung from age to rekindled + age. + + Fair and dear is the land's face here, and fair man's work as a + man's may be: + Dear and fair as the sunbright air is here the record that speaks + him free; + Free by birth of a sacred earth, and regent ever of all the sea. + + + + + AN AUTUMN VISION + + OCTOBER 31, 1889 + + +Zephyrou gigantos aura+ + + + I + + Is it Midsummer here in the heavens that illumine October on earth? + Can the year, when his heart is fulfilled with desire of the days + of his mirth, + Redeem them, recall, or remember? + For a memory recalling the rapture of earth, and redeeming the sky, + Shines down from the heights to the depths: will the watchword of + dawn be July + When to-morrow acclaims November? + The stern salutation of sorrow to death or repentance to shame + Was all that the season was wont to accord her of grace or acclaim; + No lightnings of love and of laughter. + But here, in the laugh of the loud west wind from around and above, + In the flash of the waters beneath him, what sound or what light + but of love + Rings round him or leaps forth after? + + + II + + Wind beloved of earth and sky and sea beyond all winds that blow, + Wind whose might in fight was England's on her mightiest warrior + day, + South-west wind, whose breath for her was life, and fire to scourge + her foe, + Steel to smite and death to drive him down an unreturning way, + Well-beloved and welcome, sounding all the clarions of the sky, + Rolling all the marshalled waters toward the charge that storms + the shore, + We receive, acclaim, salute thee, we who live and dream and die, + As the mightiest mouth of song that ever spake acclaimed of yore. + We that live as they that perish praise thee, lord of cloud and + wave, + Wind of winds, clothed on with darkness whence as lightning light + comes forth, + We that know thee strong to guard and smite, to scatter and to + save, + We to whom the south-west wind is dear as Athens held the north. + He for her waged war as thou for us against all powers defiant, + Fleets full-fraught with storm from Persia, laden deep with death + from Spain: + Thee the giant god of song and battle hailed as god and giant, + Yet not his but ours the land is whence thy praise should ring + and rain; + Rain as rapture shed from song, and ring as trumpets blown for + battle, + Sound and sing before thee, loud and glad as leaps and sinks the + sea: + Yea, the sea's white steeds are curbed and spurred of thee, and + pent as cattle, + Yet they laugh with love and pride to live, subdued not save of + thee. + Ears that hear thee hear in heaven the sound of widening wings + gigantic, + Eyes that see the cloud-lift westward see thy darkening brows + divine; + Wings whose measure is the limit of the limitless Atlantic, + Brows that bend, and bid the sovereign sea submit her soul to + thine. + + + III + + Twelve days since is it--twelve days gone, + Lord of storm, that a storm-bow shone + Higher than sweeps thy sublime dark wing, + Fair as dawn is and sweet like spring? + + Never dawn in the deep wide east + Spread so splendid and strange a feast, + Whence the soul as it drank and fed + Felt such rapture of wonder shed. + + Never spring in the wild wood's heart + Felt such flowers at her footfall start, + Born of earth, as arose on sight + Born of heaven and of storm and light. + + Stern and sullen, the grey grim sea + Swelled and strove as in toils, though free, + Free as heaven, and as heaven sublime, + Clear as heaven of the toils of time. + + + IV + + Suddenly, sheer from the heights to the depths of the sky and the + sea, + Sprang from the darkness alive as a vision of life to be + Glory triune and transcendent of colour afar and afire, + Arching and darkening the darkness with light as of dream or + desire. + Heaven, in the depth of its height, shone wistful and wan from + above: + Earth from beneath, and the sea, shone stricken and breathless with + love. + As a shadow may shine, so shone they; as ghosts of the viewless + blest, + That sleep hath sight of alive in a rapture of sunbright rest, + The green earth glowed and the grey sky gleamed for a wondrous + while; + And the storm's full frown was crossed by the light of its own deep + smile. + As the darkness of thought and of passion is touched by the light + that gives + Life deathless as love from the depth of a spirit that sees and + lives, + From the soul of a seer and a singer, wherein as a scroll unfurled + Lies open the scripture of light and of darkness, the word of the + world, + So, shapeless and measureless, lurid as anguish and haggard as + crime, + Pale as the front of oblivion and dark as the heart of time, + The wild wan heaven at its height was assailed and subdued and made + More fair than the skies that know not of storm and endure not + shade. + The grim sea-swell, grey, sleepless, and sad as a soul estranged, + Shone, smiled, took heart, and was glad of its wrath: and the + world's face changed. + + + V + + Up from moorlands northward gleaming + Even to heaven's transcendent height, + Clothed with massive cloud, and seeming + All one fortress reared of night, + Down to where the deep sea, dreaming + Angry dreams, lay dark and white, + White as death and dark as fate, + Heaving with the strong wind's weight, + Sad with stormy pride of state, + One full rainbow shone elate. + + Up from inmost memory's dwelling + Where the light of life abides, + Where the past finds tongue, foretelling + Time that comes and grace that guides, + Power that saves and sways, compelling + Souls that ebb and flow like tides, + Shone or seemed to shine and swim + Through the cloud-surf great and grim, + Thought's live surge, the soul of him + By whose light the sun looks dim. + + In what synod were they sitting, + All the gods and lords of time, + Whence they watched as fen-fires flitting + Years and names of men sublime, + When their counsels found it fitting + One should stand where none might climb-- + None of man begotten, none + Born of men beneath the sun + Till the race of time be run, + Save this heaven-enfranchised one? + + With what rapture of creation + Was the soul supernal thrilled, + With what pride of adoration + Was the world's heart fired and filled, + Heaved in heavenward exaltation + Higher than hopes or dreams might build, + Grave with awe not known while he + Was not, mad with glorious glee + As the sun-saluted sea, + When his hour bade Shakespeare be? + + + VI + + There, clear as night beholds her crowning seven, + The sea beheld his likeness set in heaven. + The shadow of his spirit full in sight + Shone: for the shadow of that soul is light. + Nor heaven alone bore witness: earth avowed + Him present, and acclaimed of storm aloud. + From the arching sky to the ageless hills and sea + The whole world, visible, audible, was he: + Each part of all that wove that wondrous whole + The raiment of the presence of his soul. + The sun that smote and kissed the dark to death + Spake, smiled, and strove, like song's triumphant breath; + The soundless cloud whose thunderous heart was dumb + Swelled, lowered, and shrank to feel its conqueror come. + Yet high from heaven its empire vast and vain + Frowned, and renounced not night's reluctant reign. + The serpentine swift sounds and shapes wherein + The stainless sea mocks earth and death and sin, + Crawls dark as craft, or flashes keen as hate, + Subdued and insubmissive, strong like fate + And weak like man, bore wrathful witness yet + That storms and sins are more than suns that set; + That evil everlasting, girt for strife + Eternal, wars with hope as death with life. + The dark sharp shifting wind that bade the waves + Falter, lose heart, bow down like foes made slaves, + And waxed within more bitter as they bowed, + Baffling the sea, swallowing the sun with cloud, + Devouring fast as fire on earth devours + And hungering hard as frost that feeds on flowers, + Clothed round with fog that reeked as fume from hell, + And darkening with its miscreative spell + Light, glad and keen and splendid as the sword + Whose heft had known Othello's hand its lord, + Spake all the soul that hell drew back to greet + And felt its fire shrink shuddering from his feet. + Far off the darkness darkened, and recoiled, + And neared again, and triumphed: and the coiled + Colourless cloud and sea discoloured grew + Conscious of horror huge as heaven, and knew + Where Goneril's soul made chill and foul the mist, + And all the leprous life in Regan hissed. + Fierce homeless ghosts, rejected of the pit, + From hell to hell of storm fear watched them flit. + About them and before, the dull grey gloom + Shuddered, and heaven seemed hateful as the tomb + That shrinks from resurrection; and from out + That sullen hell which girt their shades about + The nether soul that lurks and lowers within + Man, made of dust and fire and shame and sin, + Breathed: all the cloud that felt it breathe and blight + Was blue as plague or black as thunderous night. + Elect of hell, the children of his hate + Thronged, as to storm sweet heaven's triumphal gate. + The terror of his giving rose and shone + Imminent: life had put its likeness on. + But higher than all its horrent height of shade + Shone sovereign, seen by light itself had made, + Above the woes of all the world, above + Life, sin, and death, his myriad-minded love. + From landward heights whereon the radiance leant + Full-fraught from heaven, intense and imminent, + To depths wherein the seething strengths of cloud + Scarce matched the wrath of waves whereon they bowed, + From homeborn pride and kindling love of home + To the outer skies and seas of fire and foam, + From splendour soft as dew that sundawn thrills + To gloom that shudders round the world it fills, + From midnights murmuring round Titania's ear + To midnights maddening round the rage of Lear, + The wonder woven of storm and sun became + One with the light that lightens from his name. + The music moving on the sea that felt + The storm-wind even as snows of springtide melt + Was blithe as Ariel's hand or voice might make + And bid all grief die gladly for its sake. + And there the soul alive in ear and eye + That watched the wonders of an hour pass by + Saw brighter than all stars that heaven inspheres + The silent splendour of Cordelia's tears, + Felt in the whispers of the quickening wind + The radiance of the laugh of Rosalind, + And heard, in sounds that melt the souls of men + With love of love, the tune of Imogen. + + + VII + + For the strong north-east is not strong to subdue and to slay the + divine south-west, + And the darkness is less than the light that it darkens, and dies + in reluctant rest. + It hovers and hangs on the labouring and trembling ascent of the + dawn from the deep, + Till the sun's eye quicken the world and the waters, and smite it + again into sleep. + Night, holy and starry, the fostress of souls, with the fragrance + of heaven in her breath, + Subdues with the sense of her godhead the forces and mysteries of + sorrow and death. + Eternal as dawn's is the comfort she gives: but the mist that + beleaguers and slays + Comes, passes, and is not: the strength of it withers, appalled or + assuaged by the day's. + Faith, haggard as Fear that had borne her, and dark as the sire + that begat her, Despair, + Held rule on the soul of the world and the song of it saddening + through ages that were; + Dim centuries that darkened and brightened and darkened again, and + the soul of their song + Was great as their grief, and sublime as their suffering, and + strong as their sorrows were strong. + It knew not, it saw not, but shadows triune, and evoked by the + strength of their spell + Dark hell, and the mountain of anguish, and heaven that was + hollower and harder than hell. + These are not: the womb of the darkness that bare them rejects + them, and knows them no more: + Thought, fettered in misery and iron, revives in the light that it + lived in of yore. + For the soul that is wisdom and freedom, the spirit of England + redeemed from her past, + Speaks life through the lips of the master and lord of her + children, the first and the last. + Thought, touched by his hand and redeemed by his breath, sees, + hears, and accepts from above + The limitless lightnings of vision and passion, the measureless + music of love. + + + + + A SWIMMER'S DREAM + + NOVEMBER 4, 1889 + + _Somno mollior unda_ + + + I + + Dawn is dim on the dark soft water, + Soft and passionate, dark and sweet. + Love's own self was the deep sea's daughter, + Fair and flawless from face to feet, + Hailed of all when the world was golden, + Loved of lovers whose names beholden + Thrill men's eyes as with light of olden + Days more glad than their flight was fleet. + + So they sang: but for men that love her, + Souls that hear not her word in vain, + Earth beside her and heaven above her + Seem but shadows that wax and wane. + Softer than sleep's are the sea's caresses, + Kinder than love's that betrays and blesses, + Blither than spring's when her flowerful tresses + Shake forth sunlight and shine with rain. + + All the strength of the waves that perish + Swells beneath me and laughs and sighs, + Sighs for love of the life they cherish, + Laughs to know that it lives and dies, + Dies for joy of its life, and lives + Thrilled with joy that its brief death gives-- + Death whose laugh or whose breath forgives + Change that bids it subside and rise. + + + II + + Hard and heavy, remote but nearing, + Sunless hangs the severe sky's weight, + Cloud on cloud, though the wind be veering + Heaped on high to the sundawn's gate. + Dawn and even and noon are one, + Veiled with vapour and void of sun; + Nought in sight or in fancied hearing + Now less mighty than time or fate. + + The grey sky gleams and the grey seas glimmer, + Pale and sweet as a dream's delight, + As a dream's where darkness and light seem dimmer, + Touched by dawn or subdued by night. + The dark wind, stern and sublime and sad, + Swings the rollers to westward, clad + With lustrous shadow that lures the swimmer, + Lures and lulls him with dreams of light. + + Light, and sleep, and delight, and wonder, + Change, and rest, and a charm of cloud, + Fill the world of the skies whereunder + Heaves and quivers and pants aloud + All the world of the waters, hoary + Now, but clothed with its own live glory, + That mates the lightning and mocks the thunder + With light more living and word more proud. + + + III + + Far off westward, whither sets the sounding strife, + Strife more sweet than peace, of shoreless waves whose glee + Scorns the shore and loves the wind that leaves them free, + Strange as sleep and pale as death and fair as life, + Shifts the moonlight-coloured sunshine on the sea. + + Toward the sunset's goal the sunless waters crowd, + Fast as autumn days toward winter: yet it seems + Here that autumn wanes not, here that woods and streams + Lose not heart and change not likeness, chilled and bowed, + Warped and wrinkled: here the days are fair as dreams. + + + IV + + O russet-robed November, + What ails thee so to smile? + Chill August, pale September, + Endured a woful while, + And fell as falls an ember + From forth a flameless pile: + But golden-girt November + Bids all she looks on smile. + + The lustrous foliage, waning + As wanes the morning moon, + Here falling, here refraining, + Outbraves the pride of June + With statelier semblance, feigning + No fear lest death be soon: + As though the woods thus waning + Should wax to meet the moon. + + As though, when fields lie stricken + By grey December's breath, + These lordlier growths that sicken + And die for fear of death + Should feel the sense requicken + That hears what springtide saith + And thrills for love, spring-stricken + And pierced with April's breath. + + The keen white-winged north-easter + That stings and spurs thy sea + Doth yet but feed and feast her + With glowing sense of glee: + Calm chained her, storm released her, + And storm's glad voice was he: + South-wester or north-easter, + Thy winds rejoice the sea. + + + V + + A dream, a dream is it all--the season, + The sky, the water, the wind, the shore? + A day-born dream of divine unreason, + A marvel moulded of sleep--no more? + For the cloudlike wave that my limbs while cleaving + Feel as in slumber beneath them heaving + Soothes the sense as to slumber, leaving + Sense of nought that was known of yore. + + A purer passion, a lordlier leisure, + A peace more happy than lives on land, + Fulfils with pulse of diviner pleasure + The dreaming head and the steering hand. + I lean my cheek to the cold grey pillow, + The deep soft swell of the full broad billow, + And close mine eyes for delight past measure, + And wish the wheel of the world would stand. + + The wild-winged hour that we fain would capture + Falls as from heaven that its light feet clomb, + So brief, so soft, and so full the rapture + Was felt that soothed me with sense of home. + To sleep, to swim, and to dream, for ever-- + Such joy the vision of man saw never; + For here too soon will a dark day sever + The sea-bird's wing from the sea-wave's foam. + + A dream, and more than a dream, and dimmer + At once and brighter than dreams that flee, + The moment's joy of the seaward swimmer + Abides, remembered as truth may be. + Not all the joy and not all the glory + Must fade as leaves when the woods wax hoary; + For there the downs and the sea-banks glimmer, + And here to south of them swells the sea. + + + + + GRACE DARLING + + + Take, O star of all our seas, from not an alien hand, + Homage paid of song bowed down before thy glory's face, + Thou the living light of all our lovely stormy strand, + Thou the brave north-country's very glory of glories, Grace. + + Loud and dark about the lighthouse rings and glares the night; + Glares with foam-lit gloom and darkling fire of storm and spray, + Rings with roar of winds in chase and rage of waves in flight, + Howls and hisses as with mouths of snakes and wolves at bay. + Scarce the cliffs of the islets, scarce the walls of Joyous Gard, + Flash to sight between the deadlier lightnings of the sea: + Storm is lord and master of a midnight evil-starred, + Nor may sight or fear discern what evil stars may be. + Dark as death and white as snow the sea-swell scowls and shines, + Heaves and yearns and pants for prey, from ravening lip to lip, + Strong in rage of rapturous anguish, lines on hurtling lines, + Ranks on charging ranks, that break and rend the battling ship. + All the night is mad and murderous: who shall front the night? + Not the prow that labours, helpless as a storm-blown leaf, + Where the rocks and waters, darkling depth and beetling height, + Rage with wave on shattering wave and thundering reef on reef. + Death is fallen upon the prisoners there of darkness, bound + Like as thralls with links of iron fast in bonds of doom; + How shall any way to break the bands of death be found, + Any hand avail to pluck them from that raging tomb? + All the night is great with child of death: no stars above + Show them hope in heaven, no lights from shores ward help on + earth. + Is there help or hope to seaward, is there help in love, + Hope in pity, where the ravening hounds of storm make mirth? + Where the light but shows the naked eyeless face of Death + Nearer, laughing dumb and grim across the loud live storm? + Not in human heart or hand or speech of human breath, + Surely, nor in saviours found of mortal face or form. + Yet below the light, between the reefs, a skiff shot out + Seems a sea-bird fain to breast and brave the strait fierce pass + Whence the channelled roar of waters driven in raging rout, + Pent and pressed and maddened, speaks their monstrous might and + mass. + Thunder heaves and howls about them, lightning leaps and flashes, + Hard at hand, not high in heaven, but close between the walls + Heaped and hollowed of the storms of old, whence reels and crashes + All the rage of all the unbaffled wave that breaks and falls. + Who shall thwart the madness and the gladness of it, laden + Full with heavy fate, and joyous as the birds that whirl? + Nought in heaven or earth, if not one mortal-moulded maiden, + Nought if not the soul that glorifies a northland girl. + Not the rocks that break may baffle, not the reefs that thwart + Stay the ravenous rapture of the waves that crowd and leap; + Scarce their flashing laughter shows the hunger of their heart, + Scarce their lion-throated roar the wrath at heart they keep. + Child and man and woman in the grasp of death clenched fast + Tremble, clothed with darkness round about, and scarce draw + breath, + Scarce lift eyes up toward the light that saves not, scarce may + cast + Thought or prayer up, caught and trammelled in the snare of + death. + Not as sea-mews cling and laugh or sun their plumes and sleep + Cling and cower the wild night's waifs of shipwreck, blind with + fear, + Where the fierce reef scarce yields foothold that a bird might + keep, + And the clamorous darkness deadens eye and deafens ear. + Yet beyond their helpless hearing, out of hopeless sight, + Saviours, armed and girt upon with strength of heart, fare forth, + Sire and daughter, hand on oar and face against the night, + Maid and man whose names are beacons ever to the North. + Nearer now; but all the madness of the storming surf + Hounds and roars them back; but roars and hounds them back in + vain: + As a pleasure-skiff may graze the lake-embanking turf, + So the boat that bears them grates the rock where-toward they + strain. + Dawn as fierce and haggard as the face of night scarce guides + Toward the cries that rent and clove the darkness, crying for + aid, + Hours on hours, across the engorged reluctance of the tides, + Sire and daughter, high-souled man and mightier-hearted maid. + Not the bravest land that ever breasted war's grim sea, + Hurled her foes back harried on the lowlands whence they came, + Held her own and smote her smiters down, while such durst be, + Shining northward, shining southward, as the aurorean flame, + Not our mother, not Northumberland, brought ever forth, + Though no southern shore may match the sons that kiss her mouth, + Children worthier all the birthright given of the ardent north + Where the fire of hearts outburns the suns that fire the south. + Even such fire was this that lit them, not from lowering skies + Where the darkling dawn flagged, stricken in the sun's own + shrine, + Down the gulf of storm subsiding, till their earnest eyes + Find the relics of the ravening night that spared but nine. + Life by life the man redeems them, head by storm-worn head, + While the girl's hand stays the boat whereof the waves are fain: + Ah, but woe for one, the mother clasping fast her dead! + Happier, had the surges slain her with her children slain. + Back they bear, and bring between them safe the woful nine, + Where above the ravenous Hawkers fixed at watch for prey + Storm and calm behold the Longstone's towering signal shine + Now as when that labouring night brought forth a shuddering day. + Now as then, though like the hounds of storm against her snarling + All the clamorous years between us storm down many a fame, + As our sires beheld before us we behold Grace Darling + Crowned and throned our queen, and as they hailed we hail her + name. + Nay, not ours alone, her kinsfolk born, though chiefliest ours, + East and west and south acclaim her queen of England's maids, + Star more sweet than all their stars and flower than all their + flowers, + Higher in heaven and earth than star that sets or flower that + fades. + How should land or sea that nurtured her forget, or love + Hold not fast her fame for us while aught is borne in mind? + Land and sea beneath us, sun and moon and stars above, + Bear the bright soul witness, seen of all but souls born blind. + Stars and moon and sun may wax and wane, subside and rise, + Age on age as flake on flake of showering snows be shed: + Not till earth be sunless, not till death strike blind the skies, + May the deathless love that waits on deathless deeds be dead. + + Years on years have withered since beside the hearth once thine + I, too young to have seen thee, touched thy father's hallowed + hand: + Thee and him shall all men see for ever, stars that shine + While the sea that spared thee girds and glorifies the land. + + + + + LOCH TORRIDON + + TO E. H. + + + The dawn of night more fair than morning rose, + Stars hurrying forth on stars, as snows on snows + Haste when the wind and winter bid them speed. + Vague miles of moorland road behind us lay + Scarce traversed ere the day + Sank, and the sun forsook us at our need, + Belated. Where we thought to have rested, rest + Was none; for soft Maree's dim quivering breast, + Bound round with gracious inland girth of green + And fearless of the wild wave-wandering West, + Shone shelterless for strangers; and unseen + The goal before us lay + Of all our blithe and strange and strenuous day. + + For when the northering road faced westward--when + The dark sharp sudden gorge dropped seaward--then, + Beneath the stars, between the steeps, the track + We followed, lighted not of moon or sun, + And plunging whither none + Might guess, while heaven and earth were hoar and black, + Seemed even the dim still pass whence none turns back: + And through the twilight leftward of the way, + And down the dark, with many a laugh and leap, + The light blithe hill-streams shone from scaur to steep + In glittering pride of play; + And ever while the night grew great and deep + We felt but saw not what the hills would keep + Sacred awhile from sense of moon or star; + And full and far + Beneath us, sweet and strange as heaven may be, + The sea. + + The very sea: no mountain-moulded lake + Whose fluctuant shapeliness is fain to take + Shape from the steadfast shore that rules it round, + And only from the storms a casual sound: + The sea, that harbours in her heart sublime + The supreme heart of music deep as time, + And in her spirit strong + The spirit of all imaginable song. + + Not a whisper or lisp from the waters: the skies were not silenter. + Peace + Was between them; a passionless rapture of respite as soft as + release. + Not a sound, but a sense that possessed and pervaded with patient + delight + The soul and the body, clothed round with the comfort of limitless + night. + Night infinite, living, adorable, loved of the land and the sea: + Night, mother of mercies, who saith to the spirits in prison, Be + free. + And softer than dewfall, and kindlier than starlight, and keener + than wine, + Came round us the fragrance of waters, the life of the breath of + the brine. + We saw not, we heard not, the face or the voice of the waters: we + knew + By the darkling delight of the wind as the sense of the sea in it + grew, + By the pulse of the darkness about us enkindled and quickened, that + here, + Unseen and unheard of us, surely the goal we had faith in was near. + A silence diviner than music, a darkness diviner than light, + Fulfilled as from heaven with a measureless comfort the measure of + night. + + But never a roof for shelter + And never a sign for guide + Rose doubtful or visible: only + And hardly and gladly we heard + The soft waves whisper and welter, + Subdued, and allured to subside, + By the mild night's magic: the lonely + Sweet silence was soothed, not stirred, + By the noiseless noise of the gleaming + Glad ripples, that played and sighed, + Kissed, laughed, recoiled, and relented, + Whispered, flickered, and fled. + No season was this for dreaming + How oft, with a stormier tide, + Had the wrath of the winds been vented + On sons of the tribes long dead: + The tribes whom time, and the changes + Of things, and the stress of doom, + Have erased and effaced; forgotten + As wrecks or weeds of the shore + In sight of the stern hill-ranges + That hardly may change their gloom + When the fruits of the years wax rotten + And the seed of them springs no more. + For the dim strait footway dividing + The waters that breathed below + Led safe to the kindliest of shelters + That ever awoke into light: + And still in remembrance abiding + Broods over the stars that glow + And the water that eddies and welters + The passionate peace of the night. + + All night long, in the world of sleep, + Skies and waters were soft and deep: + Shadow clothed them, and silence made + Soundless music of dream and shade: + All above us, the livelong night, + Shadow, kindled with sense of light; + All around us, the brief night long, + Silence, laden with sense of song. + Stars and mountains without, we knew, + Watched and waited, the soft night through: + All unseen, but divined and dear, + Thrilled the touch of the sea's breath near: + All unheard, but alive like sound, + Throbbed the sense of the sea's life round: + Round us, near us, in depth and height, + Soft as darkness and keen as light. + + And the dawn leapt in at my casement: and there, as I rose, at my + feet + No waves of the landlocked waters, no lake submissive and sweet, + Soft slave of the lordly seasons, whose breath may loose it or + freeze; + But to left and to right and ahead was the ripple whose pulse is + the sea's. + From the gorge we had travelled by starlight the sunrise, winged + and aflame, + Shone large on the live wide wavelets that shuddered with joy as it + came; + As it came and caressed and possessed them, till panting and + laughing with light + From mountain to mountain the water was kindled and stung to + delight. + And the grey gaunt heights that embraced and constrained and + compelled it were glad, + And the rampart of rock, stark naked, that thwarted and barred it, + was clad + With a stern grey splendour of sunrise: and scarce had I sprung to + the sea + When the dawn and the water were wedded, the hills and the sky set + free. + The chain of the night was broken: the waves that embraced me and + smiled + And flickered and fawned in the sunlight, alive, unafraid, + undefiled, + Were sweeter to swim in than air, though fulfilled with the + mounting morn, + Could be for the birds whose triumph rejoiced that a day was born. + + And a day was arisen indeed for us. Years and the changes of years + Clothed round with their joys and their sorrows, and dead as their + hopes and their fears, + Lie noteless and nameless, unlit by remembrance or record of days + Worth wonder or memory, or cursing or blessing, or passion or + praise, + Between us who live and forget not, but yearn with delight in it + yet, + And the day we forget not, and never may live and may think to + forget. + And the years that were kindlier and fairer, and kindled with + pleasures as keen, + Have eclipsed not with lights or with shadows the light on the face + of it seen. + For softly and surely, as nearer the boat that we gazed from drew, + The face of the precipice opened and bade us as birds pass through, + And the bark shot sheer to the sea through the strait of the sharp + steep cleft, + The portal that opens with imminent rampires to right and to left, + Sublime as the sky they darken and strange as a spell-struck dream, + On the world unconfined of the mountains, the reign of the sea + supreme, + The kingdom of westward waters, wherein when we swam we knew + The waves that we clove were boundless, the wind on our brows that + blew + Had swept no land and no lake, and had warred not on tower or on + tree, + But came on us hard out of heaven, and alive with the soul of the + sea. + + + + + THE PALACE OF PAN + + INSCRIBED TO MY MOTHER + + + September, all glorious with gold, as a king + In the radiance of triumph attired, + Outlightening the summer, outsweetening the spring, + Broods wide on the woodlands with limitless wing, + A presence of all men desired. + + Far eastward and westward the sun-coloured lands + Smile warm as the light on them smiles; + And statelier than temples upbuilded with hands, + Tall column by column, the sanctuary stands + Of the pine-forest's infinite aisles. + + Mute worship, too fervent for praise or for prayer, + Possesses the spirit with peace, + Fulfilled with the breath of the luminous air, + The fragrance, the silence, the shadows as fair + As the rays that recede or increase. + + Ridged pillars that redden aloft and aloof, + With never a branch for a nest, + Sustain the sublime indivisible roof, + To the storm and the sun in his majesty proof, + And awful as waters at rest. + + Man's hand hath not measured the height of them; thought + May measure not, awe may not know; + In its shadow the woofs of the woodland are wrought; + As a bird is the sun in the toils of them caught, + And the flakes of it scattered as snow. + + As the shreds of a plumage of gold on the ground + The sun-flakes by multitudes lie, + Shed loose as the petals of roses discrowned + On the floors of the forest engilt and embrowned + And reddened afar and anigh. + + Dim centuries with darkling inscrutable hands + Have reared and secluded the shrine + For gods that we know not, and kindled as brands + On the altar the years that are dust, and their sands + Time's glass has forgotten for sign. + + A temple whose transepts are measured by miles, + Whose chancel has morning for priest, + Whose floor-work the foot of no spoiler defiles, + Whose musical silence no music beguiles, + No festivals limit its feast. + + The noon's ministration, the night's and the dawn's, + Conceals not, reveals not for man, + On the slopes of the herbless and blossomless lawns, + Some track of a nymph's or some trail of a faun's + To the place of the slumber of Pan. + + Thought, kindled and quickened by worship and wonder + To rapture too sacred for fear + On the ways that unite or divide them in sunder, + Alone may discern if about them or under + Be token or trace of him here. + + With passionate awe that is deeper than panic + The spirit subdued and unshaken + Takes heed of the godhead terrene and Titanic + Whose footfall is felt on the breach of volcanic + Sharp steeps that their fire has forsaken. + + By a spell more serene than the dim necromantic + Dead charms of the past and the night, + Or the terror that lurked in the noon to make frantic + Where Etna takes shape from the limbs of gigantic + Dead gods disanointed of might, + + The spirit made one with the spirit whose breath + Makes noon in the woodland sublime + Abides as entranced in a presence that saith + Things loftier than life and serener than death, + Triumphant and silent as time. + + PINE RIDGE: _September 1893_ + + + + + A YEAR'S CAROLS + + + JANUARY + + Hail, January, that bearest here + On snowbright breasts the babe-faced year + That weeps and trembles to be born. + Hail, maid and mother, strong and bright, + Hooded and cloaked and shod with white, + Whose eyes are stars that match the morn. + Thy forehead braves the storm's bent bow, + Thy feet enkindle stars of snow. + + + FEBRUARY + + Wan February with weeping cheer, + Whose cold hand guides the youngling year + Down misty roads of mire and rime, + Before thy pale and fitful face + The shrill wind shifts the clouds apace + Through skies the morning scarce may climb. + Thine eyes are thick with heavy tears, + But lit with hopes that light the year's. + + + MARCH + + Hail, happy March, whose foot on earth + Rings as the blast of martial mirth + When trumpets fire men's hearts for fray. + No race of wild things winged or finned + May match the might that wings thy wind + Through air and sea, through scud and spray. + Strong joy and thou were powers twin-born + Of tempest and the towering morn. + + + APRIL + + Crowned April, king whose kiss bade earth + Bring forth to time her lordliest birth + When Shakespeare from thy lips drew breath + And laughed to hold in one soft hand + A spell that bade the world's wheel stand, + And power on life, and power on death, + With quiring suns and sunbright showers + Praise him, the flower of all thy flowers. + + + MAY + + Hail, May, whose bark puts forth full-sailed + For summer; May, whom Chaucer hailed + With all his happy might of heart, + And gave thy rosebright daisy-tips + Strange fragrance from his amorous lips + That still thine own breath seems to part + And sweeten till each word they say + Is even a flower of flowering May. + + + JUNE + + Strong June, superb, serene, elate + With conscience of thy sovereign state + Untouched of thunder, though the storm + Scathe here and there thy shuddering skies + And bid its lightning cross thine eyes + With fire, thy golden hours inform + Earth and the souls of men with life + That brings forth peace from shining strife. + + + JULY + + Hail, proud July, whose fervent mouth + Bids even be morn and north be south + By grace and gospel of thy word, + Whence all the splendour of the sea + Lies breathless with delight in thee + And marvel at the music heard + From the ardent silent lips of noon + And midnight's rapturous plenilune. + + + AUGUST + + Great August, lord of golden lands, + Whose lordly joy through seas and strands + And all the red-ripe heart of earth + Strikes passion deep as life, and stills + The folded vales and folding hills + With gladness too divine for mirth, + The gracious glories of thine eyes + Make night a noon where darkness dies. + + + SEPTEMBER + + Hail, kind September, friend whose grace + Renews the bland year's bounteous face + With largess given of corn and wine + Through many a land that laughs with love + Of thee and all the heaven above, + More fruitful found than all save thine + Whose skies fulfil with strenuous cheer + The fervent fields that knew thee near. + + + OCTOBER + + October of the tawny crown, + Whose heavy-laden hands drop down + Blessing, the bounties of thy breath + And mildness of thy mellowing might + Fill earth and heaven with love and light + Too sweet for fear to dream of death + Or memory, while thy joy lives yet, + To know what joy would fain forget. + + + NOVEMBER + + Hail, soft November, though thy pale + Sad smile rebuke the words that hail + Thy sorrow with no sorrowing words + Or gratulate thy grief with song + Less bitter than the winds that wrong + Thy withering woodlands, where the birds + Keep hardly heart to sing or see + How fair thy faint wan face may be. + + + DECEMBER + + December, thou whose hallowing hands + On shuddering seas and hardening lands + Set as a sacramental sign + The seal of Christmas felt on earth + As witness toward a new year's birth + Whose promise makes thy death divine, + The crowning joy that comes of thee + Makes glad all grief on land or sea. + + + + + ENGLAND: AN ODE + + + I + + Sea and strand, and a lordlier land than sea-tides rolling and + rising sun + Clasp and lighten in climes that brighten with day when day that + was here is done, + Call aloud on their children, proud with trust that future and past + are one. + + Far and near from the swan's nest here the storm-birds bred of her + fair white breast, + Sons whose home was the sea-wave's foam, have borne the fame of her + east and west; + North and south has the storm-wind's mouth rung praise of England + and England's quest. + + Fame, wherever her flag flew, never forbore to fly with an equal + wing: + France and Spain with their warrior train bowed down before her as + thrall to king; + India knelt at her feet, and felt her sway more fruitful of life + than spring. + + Darkness round them as iron bound fell off from races of elder + name, + Slain at sight of her eyes, whose light bids freedom lighten and + burn as flame; + Night endures not the touch that cures of kingship tyrants, and + slaves of shame. + + All the terror of time, where error and fear were lords of a world + of slaves, + Age on age in resurgent rage and anguish darkening as waves on + waves, + Fell or fled from a face that shed such grace as quickens the dust + of graves. + + Things of night at her glance took flight: the strengths of + darkness recoiled and sank: + Sank the fires of the murderous pyres whereon wild agony writhed + and shrank: + Rose the light of the reign of right from gulfs of years that the + darkness drank. + + Yet the might of her wings in flight, whence glory lightens and + music rings, + Loud and bright as the dawn's, shall smite and still the discord of + evil things, + Yet not slain by her radiant reign, but darkened now by her + sail-stretched wings. + + + II + + Music made of change and conquest, glory born of evil slain, + Stilled the discord, slew the darkness, bade the lights of tempest + wane, + Where the deathless dawn of England rose in sign that right should + reign. + + Mercy, where the tiger wallowed mad and blind with blood and lust, + Justice, where the jackal yelped and fed, and slaves allowed it + just, + Rose as England's light on Asia rose, and smote them down to dust. + + Justice bright as mercy, mercy girt by justice with her sword, + Smote and saved and raised and ruined, till the tyrant-ridden horde + Saw the lightning fade from heaven and knew the sun for God and + lord. + + Where the footfall sounds of England, where the smile of England + shines, + Rings the tread and laughs the face of freedom, fair as hope + divines + Days to be, more brave than ours and lit by lordlier stars for + signs. + + All our past acclaims our future: Shakespeare's voice and Nelson's + hand, + Milton's faith and Wordsworth's trust in this our chosen and + chainless land, + Bear us witness: come the world against her, England yet shall + stand. + + Earth and sea bear England witness if he lied who said it; he + Whom the winds that ward her, waves that clasp, and herb and flower + and tree + Fed with English dews and sunbeams, hail as more than man may be. + + No man ever spake as he that bade our England be but true, + Keep but faith with England fast and firm, and none should bid her + rue; + None may speak as he: but all may know the sign that Shakespeare + knew. + + + III + + From the springs of the dawn, from the depths of the noon, from the + heights of the night that shine, + Hope, faith, and remembrance of glory that found but in England her + throne and her shrine, + Speak louder than song may proclaim them, that here is the seal of + them set for a sign. + + And loud as the sea's voice thunders applause of the land that is + one with the sea + Speaks Time in the ear of the people that never at heart was not + inly free + The word of command that assures us of life, if we will but that + life shall be; + + If the race that is first of the races of men who behold unashamed + the sun + Stand fast and forget not the sign that is given of the years and + the wars that are done, + The token that all who are born of its blood should in heart as in + blood be one. + + The word of remembrance that lightens as fire from the steeps of + the storm-lit past + Bids only the faith of our fathers endure in us, firm as they held + it fast: + That the glory which was from the first upon England alone may + endure to the last. + + That the love and the hate may change not, the faith may not fade, + nor the wrath nor scorn, + That shines for her sons and that burns for her foemen as fire of + the night or the morn: + That the births of her womb may forget not the sign of the glory + wherein they were born. + + A light that is more than the sunlight, an air that is brighter + than morning's breath, + Clothes England about as the strong sea clasps her, and answers the + word that it saith; + The word that assures her of life if she change not, and choose not + the ways of death. + + Change darkens and lightens around her, alternate in hope and in + fear to be: + Hope knows not if fear speak truth, nor fear whether hope be not + blind as she: + But the sun is in heaven that beholds her immortal, and girdled + with life by the sea. + + + + + ETON: AN ODE + + FOR THE FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THE FOUNDATION + OF THE COLLEGE + + + I + + Four hundred summers and fifty have shone on the meadows of Thames + and died + Since Eton arose in an age that was darkness, and shone by his + radiant side + As a star that the spell of a wise man's word bade live and ascend + and abide. + + And ever as time's flow brightened, a river more dark than the + storm-clothed sea, + And age upon age rose fairer and larger in promise of hope set + free, + With England Eton her child kept pace as a fostress of men to be. + + And ever as earth waxed wiser, and softer the beating of time's + wide wings, + Since fate fell dark on her father, most hapless and gentlest of + star-crossed kings, + Her praise has increased as the chant of the dawn that the choir of + the noon outsings. + + + II + + Storm and cloud in the skies were loud, and lightning mocked at the + blind sun's light; + War and woe on the land below shed heavier shadow than falls from + night; + Dark was earth at her dawn of birth as here her record of praise is + bright. + + Clear and fair through her morning air the light first laugh of the + sunlit stage + Rose and rang as a fount that sprang from depths yet dark with a + spent storm's rage, + Loud and glad as a boy's, and bade the sunrise open on + Shakespeare's age. + + Lords of state and of war, whom fate found strong in battle, in + counsel strong, + Here, ere fate had approved them great, abode their season, and + thought not long: + Here too first was the lark's note nursed that filled and flooded + the skies with song. + + + III + + Shelley, lyric lord of England's lordliest singers, here first + heard + Ring from lips of poets crowned and dead the Promethean word + Whence his soul took fire, and power to outsoar the sunward-soaring + bird. + + Still the reaches of the river, still the light on field and hill, + Still the memories held aloft as lamps for hope's young fire to + fill, + Shine, and while the light of England lives shall shine for England + still. + + When four hundred more and fifty years have risen and shone and + set, + Bright with names that men remember, loud with names that men + forget, + Haply here shall Eton's record be what England finds it yet. + + + + + THE UNION + + + I + + Three in one, but one in three, + God, who girt her with the sea, + Bade our Commonweal to be: + Nought, if now not one. + Though fraud and fear would sever + The bond assured for ever, + Their shameful strength shall never + Undo what heaven has done. + + + II + + South and North and West and East + Watch the ravens flock to feast, + Dense as round some death-struck beast, + Black as night is black. + Stand fast as faith together + In stress of treacherous weather + When hounds and wolves break tether + And Treason guides the pack. + + + III + + Lovelier than thy seas are strong, + Glorious Ireland, sword and song + Gird and crown thee: none may wrong, + Save thy sons alone. + The sea that laughs around us + Hath sundered not but bound us: + The sun's first rising found us + Throned on its equal throne. + + + IV + + North and South and East and West, + All true hearts that wish thee best + Beat one tune and own one quest, + Staunch and sure as steel. + God guard from dark disunion + Our threefold State's communion, + God save the loyal Union, + The royal Commonweal! + + + + + EAST TO WEST + + + Sunset smiles on sunrise: east and west are one, + Face to face in heaven before the sovereign sun. + From the springs of the dawn everlasting a glory renews and + transfigures the west, + From the depths of the sunset a light as of morning enkindles the + broad sea's breast, + And the lands and the skies and the waters are glad of the day's + and the night's work done. + + Child of dawn, and regent on the world-wide sea, + England smiles on Europe, fair as dawn and free. + Not the waters that gird her are purer, nor mightier the winds that + her waters know. + But America, daughter and sister of England, is praised of them, + far as they flow: + Atlantic responds to Pacific the praise of her days that have been + and shall be. + + So from England westward let the watchword fly, + So for England eastward let the seas reply; + Praise, honour, and love everlasting be sent on the wind's wings, + westward and east, + That the pride of the past and the pride of the future may mingle + as friends at feast, + And the sons of the lords of the world-wide seas be one till the + world's life die. + + + + + INSCRIPTIONS + + FOR THE FOUR SIDES OF A PEDESTAL + + + I + + Marlowe, the father of the sons of song + Whose praise is England's crowning praise, above + All glories else that crown her, sweet and strong + As England, clothed with light and fire of love, + And girt with might of passion, thought, and trust, + Stands here in spirit, sleeps not here in dust. + + + II + + Marlowe, a star too sovereign, too superb, + To fade when heaven took fire from Shakespeare's light, + A soul that knew but song's triumphal curb + And love's triumphant bondage, holds of right + His pride of place, who first in place and time + Made England's voice as England's heart sublime. + + + III + + Marlowe bade England live in living song: + The light he lifted up lit Shakespeare's way: + He spake, and life sprang forth in music, strong + As fire or lightning, sweet as dawn of day. + Song was a dream where day took night to wife: + "Let there be life," he said: and there was life. + + + IV + + Marlowe of all our fathers first beheld + Beyond the tidal ebb and flow of things + The tideless depth and height of souls, impelled + By thought or passion, borne on waves or wings, + Beyond all flight or sight but song's: and he + First gave our song a sound that matched our sea. + + + + + ON THE DEATH OF RICHARD BURTON + + + Night or light is it now, wherein + Sleeps, shut out from the wild world's din, + Wakes, alive with a life more clear, + One who found not on earth his kin? + + Sleep were sweet for awhile, were dear + Surely to souls that were heartless here, + Souls that faltered and flagged and fell, + Soft of spirit and faint of cheer. + + A living soul that had strength to quell + Hope the spectre and fear the spell, + Clear-eyed, content with a scorn sublime + And a faith superb, can it fare not well? + + Life, the shadow of wide-winged time, + Cast from the wings that change as they climb, + Life may vanish in death, and seem + Less than the promise of last year's prime. + + But not for us is the past a dream + Wherefrom, as light from a clouded stream, + Faith fades and shivers and ebbs away, + Faint as the moon if the sundawn gleam. + + Faith, whose eyes in the low last ray + Watch the fire that renews the day, + Faith which lives in the living past, + Rock-rooted, swerves not as weeds that sway. + + As trees that stand in the storm-wind fast + She stands, unsmitten of death's keen blast, + With strong remembrance of sunbright spring + Alive at heart to the lifeless last. + + Night, she knows, may in no wise cling + To a soul that sinks not and droops not wing, + A sun that sets not in death's false night + Whose kingdom finds him not thrall but king. + + Souls there are that for soul's affright + Bow down and cower in the sun's glad sight, + Clothed round with faith that is one with fear, + And dark with doubt of the live world's light. + + But him we hailed from afar or near + As boldest born of the bravest here + And loved as brightest of souls that eyed + Life, time, and death with unchangeful cheer, + + A wider soul than the world was wide, + Whose praise made love of him one with pride, + What part has death or has time in him, + Who rode life's lists as a god might ride? + + While England sees not her old praise dim, + While still her stars through the world's night swim, + A fame outshining her Raleigh's fame, + A light that lightens her loud sea's rim, + + Shall shine and sound as her sons proclaim + The pride that kindles at Burton's name. + And joy shall exalt their pride to be + The same in birth if in soul the same. + + But we that yearn for a friend's face--we + Who lack the light that on earth was he-- + Mourn, though the light be a quenchless flame + That shines as dawn on a tideless sea. + + + + + ELEGY + + 1869-1891 + + + Auvergne, Auvergne, O wild and woful land, + O glorious land and gracious, white as gleam + The stairs of heaven, black as a flameless brand, + Strange even as life, and stranger than a dream, + + Could earth remember man, whose eyes made bright + The splendour of her beauty, lit by day + Or soothed and softened and redeemed by night, + Wouldst thou not know what light has passed away? + + Wouldst thou not know whom England, whom the world, + Mourns? For the world whose wildest ways he trod, + And smiled their dangers down that coiled and curled + Against him, knows him now less man than god. + + Our demigod of daring, keenest-eyed + To read and deepest read in earth's dim things, + A spirit now whose body of death has died + And left it mightier yet in eyes and wings, + The sovereign seeker of the world, who now + Hath sought what world the light of death may show, + Hailed once with me the crowns that load thy brow, + Crags dark as midnight, columns bright as snow. + + Thy steep small Siena, splendid and content + As shines the mightier city's Tuscan pride + Which here its face reflects in radiance, pent + By narrower bounds from towering side to side, + + Set fast between the ridged and foamless waves + Of earth more fierce and fluctuant than the sea, + The fearless town of towers that hails and braves + The heights that gird, the sun that brands Le Puy; + + The huddled churches clinging on the cliffs + As birds alighting might for storm's sake cling, + Moored to the rocks as tempest-harried skiffs + To perilous refuge from the loud wind's wing; + + The stairs on stairs that wind and change and climb + Even up to the utmost crag's edge curved and curled, + More bright than vision, more than faith sublime, + Strange as the light and darkness of the world; + + Strange as are night and morning, stars and sun, + And washed from west and east by day's deep tide. + Shine yet less fair, when all their heights are won, + Than sundawn shows thy pillared mountain-side. + + Even so the dawn of death, whose light makes dim + The starry fires that life sees rise and set, + Shows higher than here he shone before us him + Whom faith forgets not, nor shall fame forget. + + Even so those else unfooted heights we clomb + Through scudding mist and eddying whirls of cloud, + Blind as a pilot beaten blind with foam, + And shrouded as a corpse with storm's grey shroud, + + Foot following foot along the sheer strait ledge + Where space was none to bear the wild goat's feet + Till blind we sat on the outer footless edge + Where darkling death seemed fain to share the seat, + + The abyss before us, viewless even as time's, + The abyss to left of us, the abyss to right, + Bid thought now dream how high the freed soul climbs + That death sets free from change of day and night. + + The might of raging mist and wind whose wrath + Shut from our eyes the narrowing rock we trod, + The wondrous world it darkened, made our path + Like theirs who take the shadow of death for God. + + Yet eastward, veiled in vapour white as snow, + The grim black herbless heights that scorn the sun + And mock the face of morning rose to show + The work of earth-born fire and earthquake done. + + And half the world was haggard night, wherein + We strove our blind way through: but far above + Was light that watched the wild mists whirl and spin, + And far beneath a land worth light and love. + + Deep down the Valley of the Curse, undaunted + By shadow and whisper of winds with sins for wings + And ghosts of crime wherethrough the heights live haunted + By present sense of past and monstrous things, + + The glimmering water holds its gracious way + Full forth, and keeps one happier hand's-breadth green + Of all that storm-scathed world whereon the sway + Sits dark as death of deadlier things unseen. + + But on the soundless and the viewless river + That bears through night perchance again to day + The dead whom death and twin-born fame deliver + From life that dies, and time's inveterate sway, + + No shadow save of falsehood and of fear + That brands the future with the past, and bids + The spirit wither and the soul grow sere, + Hovers or hangs to cloud life's opening lids, + + If life have eyes to lift again and see, + Beyond the bounds of sensual sight or breath, + What life incognisable of ours may be + That turns our light to darkness deep as death. + + Priests and the soulless serfs of priests may swarm + With vulturous acclamation, loud in lies, + About his dust while yet his dust is warm + Who mocked as sunlight mocks their base blind eyes, + + Their godless ghost of godhead, false and foul + As fear his dam or hell his throne: but we, + Scarce hearing, heed no carrion church-wolf's howl: + The corpse be theirs to mock; the soul is free. + + Free as ere yet its earthly day was done + It lived above the coil about us curled: + A soul whose eyes were keener than the sun, + A soul whose wings were wider than the world. + + We, sons of east and west, ringed round with dreams, + Bound fast with visions, girt about with fears, + Live, trust, and think by chance, while shadow seems + Light, and the wind that wrecks a hand that steers. + + He, whose full soul held east and west in poise, + Weighed man with man, and creed of man's with creed, + And age with age, their triumphs and their toys, + And found what faith may read not and may read. + + Scorn deep and strong as death and life, that lit + With fire the smile at lies and dreams outworn + Wherewith he smote them, showed sublime in it + The splendour and the steadfastness of scorn. + + What loftier heaven, what lordlier air, what space + Illimitable, insuperable, infinite, + Now to that strong-winged soul yields ampler place + Than passing darkness yields to passing light, + + No dream, no faith can tell us: hope and fear, + Whose tongues were loud of old as children's, now + From babbling fall to silence: change is here, + And death; dark furrows drawn by time's dark plough. + + Still sunward here on earth its flight was bent, + Even since the man within the child began + To yearn and kindle with superb intent + And trust in time to magnify the man. + + Still toward the old garden of the Sun, whose fruit + The honey-heavy lips of Sophocles + Desired and sang, wherein the unwithering root + Sprang of all growths that thought brings forth and sees + + Incarnate, bright with bloom or dense with leaf + Far-shadowing, deep as depth of dawn or night: + And all were parcel of the garnered sheaf + His strenuous spirit bound and stored aright. + + And eastward now, and ever toward the dawn, + If death's deep veil by life's bright hand be rent, + We see, as through the shadow of death withdrawn, + The imperious soul's indomitable ascent. + + But not the soul whose labour knew not end-- + But not the swordsman's hand, the crested head-- + The royal heart we mourn, the faultless friend, + Burton--a name that lives till fame be dead. + + + + + A SEQUENCE OF SONNETS ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT BROWNING + + + I + + The clearest eyes in all the world they read + With sense more keen and spirit of sight more true + Than burns and thrills in sunrise, when the dew + Flames, and absorbs the glory round it shed, + As they the light of ages quick and dead, + Closed now, forsake us: yet the shaft that slew + Can slay not one of all the works we knew, + Nor death discrown that many-laurelled head. + + The works of words whose life seems lightning wrought, + And moulded of unconquerable thought, + And quickened with imperishable flame, + Stand fast and shine and smile, assured that nought + May fade of all their myriad-moulded fame, + Nor England's memory clasp not Browning's name. + + _December 13, 1889._ + + + II + + Death, what hast thou to do with one for whom + Time is not lord, but servant? What least part + Of all the fire that fed his living heart, + Of all the light more keen than sundawn's bloom + That lit and led his spirit, strong as doom + And bright as hope, can aught thy breath may dart + Quench? Nay, thou knowest he knew thee what thou art, + A shadow born of terror's barren womb, + That brings not forth save shadows. What art thou, + To dream, albeit thou breathe upon his brow, + That power on him is given thee,--that thy breath + Can make him less than love acclaims him now, + And hears all time sound back the word it saith? + What part hast thou then in his glory, Death? + + + III + + A graceless doom it seems that bids us grieve: + Venice and winter, hand in deadly hand, + Have slain the lover of her sunbright strand + And singer of a stormbright Christmas Eve. + A graceless guerdon we that loved receive + For all our love, from that the dearest land + Love worshipped ever. Blithe and soft and bland, + Too fair for storm to scathe or fire to cleave, + Shone on our dreams and memories evermore + The domes, the towers, the mountains and the shore + That gird or guard thee, Venice: cold and black + Seems now the face we loved as he of yore. + We have given thee love--no stint, no stay, no lack: + What gift, what gift is this thou hast given us back? + + + IV + + But he--to him, who knows what gift is thine, + Death? Hardly may we think or hope, when we + Pass likewise thither where to-night is he, + Beyond the irremeable outer seas that shine + And darken round such dreams as half divine + Some sunlit harbour in that starless sea + Where gleams no ship to windward or to lee, + To read with him the secret of thy shrine. + + There too, as here, may song, delight, and love, + The nightingale, the sea-bird, and the dove, + Fulfil with joy the splendour of the sky + Till all beneath wax bright as all above: + But none of all that search the heavens, and try + The sun, may match the sovereign eagle's eye. + + _December 14._ + + + V + + Among the wondrous ways of men and time + He went as one that ever found and sought + And bore in hand the lamplike spirit of thought + To illume with instance of its fire sublime + The dusk of many a cloudlike age and clime. + No spirit in shape of light and darkness wrought, + No faith, no fear, no dream, no rapture, nought + That blooms in wisdom, nought that burns in crime, + No virtue girt and armed and helmed with light, + No love more lovely than the snows are white, + No serpent sleeping in some dead soul's tomb, + No song-bird singing from some live soul's height, + But he might hear, interpret, or illume + With sense invasive as the dawn of doom. + + + VI + + What secret thing of splendour or of shade + Surmised in all those wandering ways wherein + Man, led of love and life and death and sin, + Strays, climbs, or cowers, allured, absorbed, afraid, + Might not the strong and sunlike sense invade + Of that full soul that had for aim to win + Light, silent over time's dark toil and din, + Life, at whose touch death fades as dead things fade? + O spirit of man, what mystery moves in thee + That he might know not of in spirit, and see + The heart within the heart that seems to strive, + The life within the life that seems to be, + And hear, through all thy storms that whirl and drive, + The living sound of all men's souls alive? + + + VII + + He held no dream worth waking: so he said, + He who stands now on death's triumphal steep, + Awakened out of life wherein we sleep + And dream of what he knows and sees, being dead. + But never death for him was dark or dread: + "Look forth" he bade the soul, and fear not. Weep, + All ye that trust not in his truth, and keep + Vain memory's vision of a vanished head + As all that lives of all that once was he + Save that which lightens from his word: but we, + Who, seeing the sunset-coloured waters roll, + Yet know the sun subdued not of the sea, + Nor weep nor doubt that still the spirit is whole, + And life and death but shadows of the soul. + + _December 15._ + + + + + SUNSET AND MOONRISE + + NEW YEAR'S EVE, 1889 + + + All the west, whereon the sunset sealed the dead year's glorious + grave + Fast with seals of light and fire and cloud that light and fire + illume, + Glows at heart and kindles earth and heaven with joyous blush and + bloom, + Warm and wide as life, and glad of death that only slays to save. + As a tide-reconquered sea-rock lies aflush with the influent wave + Lies the light aflush with darkness, lapped about by lustrous + gloom, + Even as life with death, and fame with time, and memory with the + tomb + Where a dead man hath for vassals Fame the serf and Time the slave. + + Far from earth as heaven, the steadfast light withdrawn, superb, + suspense, + Burns in dumb divine expansion of illimitable flower: + Moonrise whets the shadow's edges keen as noontide: hence and + thence + Glows the presence from us passing, shines and passes not the + power. + Souls arise whose word remembered is as spirit within the sense: + All the hours are theirs of all the seasons: death has but his + hour. + + + + + BIRTHDAY ODE + + AUGUST 6, 1891 + + + I + + Love and praise, and a length of days whose shadow cast upon time + is light, + Days whose sound was a spell shed round from wheeling wings as of + doves in flight, + Meet in one, that the mounting sun to-day may triumph, and cast out + night. + + Two years more than the full fourscore lay hallowing hands on a + sacred head-- + Scarce one score of the perfect four uncrowned of fame as they + smiled and fled: + Still and soft and alive aloft their sunlight stays though the suns + be dead. + + Ere we were or were thought on, ere the love that gave us to life + began, + Fame grew strong with his crescent song, to greet the goal of the + race they ran, + Song with fame, and the lustrous name with years whose changes + acclaimed the man. + + + II + + Soon, ere time in the rounding rhyme of choral seasons had hailed + us men, + We too heard and acclaimed the word whose breath was life upon + England then-- + Life more bright than the breathless light of soundless noon in a + songless glen. + + Ah, the joy of the heartstruck boy whose ear was opened of love to + hear! + Ah, the bliss of the burning kiss of song and spirit, the mounting + cheer + Lit with fire of divine desire and love that knew not if love were + fear! + + Fear and love as of heaven above and earth enkindled of heaven were + one; + One white flame, that around his name grew keen and strong as the + worldwide sun; + Awe made bright with implied delight, as weft with weft of the + rainbow spun. + + + III + + He that fears not the voice he hears and loves shall never have + heart to sing: + All the grace of the sun-god's face that bids the soul as a + fountain spring + Bids the brow that receives it bow, and hail his likeness on earth + as king. + + We that knew when the sun's shaft flew beheld and worshipped, + adored and heard: + Light rang round it of shining sound, whence all men's hearts were + subdued and stirred: + Joy, love, sorrow, the day, the morrow, took life upon them in one + man's word. + + Not for him can the years wax dim, nor downward swerve on a + darkening way: + Upward wind they, and leave behind such light as lightens the front + of May: + Fair as youth and sublime as truth we find the fame that we hail + to-day. + + + + + THRENODY + + OCTOBER 6, 1892 + + + I + + Life, sublime and serene when time had power upon it and ruled its + breath, + Changed it, bade it be glad or sad, and hear what change in the + world's ear saith, + Shines more fair in the starrier air whose glory lightens the dusk + of death. + + Suns that sink on the wan sea's brink, and moons that kindle and + flame and fade, + Leave more clear for the darkness here the stars that set not and + see not shade + Rise and rise on the lowlier skies by rule of sunlight and + moonlight swayed. + + So, when night for his eyes grew bright, his proud head pillowed on + Shakespeare's breast, + Hand in hand with him, soon to stand where shine the glories that + death loves best, + Passed the light of his face from sight, and sank sublimely to + radiant rest. + + + II + + Far above us and all our love, beyond all reach of its voiceless + praise, + Shines for ever the name that never shall feel the shade of the + changeful days + Fall and chill the delight that still sees winter's light on it + shine like May's. + + Strong as death is the dark day's breath whose blast has withered + the life we see + Here where light is the child of night, and less than visions or + dreams are we: + Strong as death; but a word, a breath, a dream is stronger than + death can be. + + Strong as truth and superb in youth eternal, fair as the sundawn's + flame + Seen when May on her first-born day bids earth exult in her radiant + name, + Lives, clothed round with its praise and crowned with love that + dies not, his love-lit fame. + + + III + + Fairer far than the morning star, and sweet for us as the songs + that rang + Loud through heaven from the choral Seven when all the stars of the + morning sang, + Shines the song that we loved so long--since first such love in us + flamed and sprang. + + England glows as a sunlit rose from mead to mountain, from sea to + sea, + Bright with love and with pride above all taint of sorrow that + needs must be, + Needs must live for an hour, and give its rainbow's glory to lawn + and lea. + + Not through tears shall the new-born years behold him, crowned with + applause of men, + Pass at last from a lustrous past to life that lightens beyond + their ken, + Glad and dead, and from earthward led to sunward, guided of Imogen. + + + + + THE BALLAD OF MELICERTES + + IN MEMORY OF THEODORE DE BANVILLE + + + Death, a light outshining life, bids heaven resume + Star by star the souls whose light made earth divine. + Death, a night outshining day, sees burn and bloom + Flower by flower, and sun by sun, the fames that shine + Deathless, higher than life beheld their sovereign sign. + Dead Simonides of Ceos, late restored, + Given again of God, again by man deplored, + Shone but yestereve, a glory frail as breath. + Frail? But fame's breath quickens, kindles, keeps in ward, + Life so sweet as this that dies and casts off death. + + Mother's love, and rapture of the sea, whose womb + Breeds eternal life of joy that stings like brine, + Pride of song, and joy to dare the singer's doom, + Sorrow soft as sleep and laughter bright as wine, + Flushed and filled with fragrant fire his lyric line. + As the sea-shell utters, like a stricken chord, + Music uttering all the sea's within it stored, + Poet well-beloved, whose praise our sorrow saith, + So thy songs retain thy soul, and so record + Life so sweet as this that dies and casts off death. + + Side by side we mourned at Gautier's golden tomb: + Here in spirit now I stand and mourn at thine. + Yet no breath of death strikes thence, no shadow of gloom, + Only light more bright than gold of the inmost mine, + Only steam of incense warm from love's own shrine. + Not the darkling stream, the sundering Stygian ford, + Not the hour that smites and severs as a sword, + Not the night subduing light that perisheth, + Smite, subdue, divide from us by doom abhorred, + Life so sweet as this that dies and casts off death. + + Prince of song more sweet than honey, lyric lord, + Not thy France here only mourns a light adored, + One whose love-lit fame the world inheriteth. + Strangers too, now brethren, hail with heart's accord + Life so sweet as this that dies and casts off death. + + + + + AU TOMBEAU DE BANVILLE + + + La plus douce des voix qui vibraient sous le ciel + Se tait: les rossignols ailés pleurent le frère + Qui s'envole au-dessus de l'âpre et sombre terre, + Ne lui laissant plus voir que l'être essentiel, + + Esprit qui chante et rit, fleur d'une âme sans fiel. + L'ombre élyséenne, où la nuit n'est que lumière, + Revoit, tout revêtu de splendeur douce et fière, + Mélicerte, poète à la bouche de miel. + + Dieux exilés, passants célestes de ce monde, + Dont on entend parfois dans notre nuit profonde + Vibrer la voix, frémir les ailes, vous savez + S'il vous aima, s'il vous pleura, lui dont la vie + Et le chant rappelaient les vôtres. Recevez + L'âme de Mélicerte affranchie et ravie. + + + + + LIGHT: AN EPICEDE + + TO PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON + + + Love will not weep because the seal is broken + That sealed upon a life beloved and brief + Darkness, and let but song break through for token + How deep, too far for even thy song's relief, + Slept in thy soul the secret springs of grief. + + Thy song may soothe full many a soul hereafter, + As tears, if tears will come, dissolve despair; + As here but late, with smile more bright than laughter, + Thy sweet strange yearning eyes would seem to bear + Witness that joy might cleave the clouds of care. + + Two days agone, and love was one with pity + When love gave thought wings toward the glimmering goal + Where, as a shrine lit in some darkling city, + Shone soft the shrouded image of thy soul: + And now thou art healed of life; thou art healed, and whole. + + Yea, two days since, all we that loved thee pitied: + And now with wondering love, with shame of face, + We think how foolish now, how far unfitted, + Should be from us, toward thee who hast run thy race, + Pity--toward thee, who hast won the painless place; + + The painless world of death, yet unbeholden + Of eyes that dream what light now lightens thine + And will not weep. Thought, yearning toward those olden + Dear hours that sorrow sees and sees not shine, + Bows tearless down before a flameless shrine: + + A flameless altar here of life and sorrow + Quenched and consumed together. These were one, + One thing for thee, as night was one with morrow + And utter darkness with the sovereign sun: + And now thou seest life, sorrow, and darkness done. + + And yet love yearns again to win thee hither; + Blind love, and loveless, and unworthy thee: + Here where I watch the hours of darkness wither, + Here where mine eyes were glad and sad to see + Thine that could see not mine, though turned on me. + + But now, if aught beyond sweet sleep lie hidden, + And sleep be sealed not fast on dead men's sight + For ever, thine hath grace for ours forbidden, + And sees us compassed round with change and night: + Yet light like thine is ours, if love be light. + + + + + THRENODY + + + Watching here alone by the fire whereat last year + Sat with me the friend that a week since yet was near, + That a week has borne so far and hid so deep, + Woe am I that I may not weep, + May not yearn to behold him here. + + Shame were mine, and little the love I bore him were, + Now to mourn that better he fares than love may fare + Which desires, and would not have indeed, its will, + Would not love him so worse than ill, + Would not clothe him again with care. + + Yet can love not choose but remember, hearts but ache, + Eyes but darken, only for one vain thought's poor sake, + For the thought that by this hearth's now lonely side + Two fast friends, on the day he died, + Looked once more for his hand to take. + + Let thy soul forgive them, and pardon heal the sin, + Though their hearts be heavy to think what then had been, + The delight that never while they live may be-- + Love's communion of speech with thee, + Soul and speech with the soul therein. + + O my friend, O brother, a glory veiled and marred! + Never love made moan for a life more evil-starred. + Was it envy, chance, or chance-compelling fate, + Whence thy spirit was bruised so late, + Bowed so heavily, bound so hard? + + Now released, it may be,--if only love might know-- + Filled and fired with sight, it beholds us blind and low + With a pity keener yet, if that may be, + Even than ever was this that we + Felt, when love of thee wrought us woe. + + None may tell the depths and the heights of life and death. + What we may we give thee: a word that sorrow saith, + And that none will heed save sorrow: scarce a song. + All we may, who have loved thee long, + Take: the best we can give is breath. + + + + + A DIRGE + + + A bell tolls on in my heart + As though in my ears a knell + Had ceased for awhile to swell, + But the sense of it would not part + From the spirit that bears its part + In the chime of the soundless bell. + + Ah dear dead singer of sorrow, + The burden is now not thine + That grief bade sound for a sign + Through the songs of the night whose morrow + Has risen, and I may not borrow + A beam from its radiant shrine. + + The burden has dropped from thee + That grief on thy life bound fast; + The winter is over and past + Whose end thou wast fain to see. + Shall sorrow not comfort me + That is thine no longer--at last? + + Good day, good night, and good morrow, + Men living and mourning say. + For thee we could only pray + That night of the day might borrow + Such comfort as dreams lend sorrow: + Death gives thee at last good day. + + + + + A REMINISCENCE + + + The rose to the wind has yielded: all its leaves + Lie strewn on the graveyard grass, and all their light + And colour and fragrance leave our sense and sight + Bereft as a man whom bitter time bereaves + Of blossom at once and hope of garnered sheaves, + Of April at once and August. Day to night + Calls wailing, and life to death, and depth to height, + And soul upon soul of man that hears and grieves. + + Who knows, though he see the snow-cold blossom shed, + If haply the heart that burned within the rose, + The spirit in sense, the life of life be dead? + If haply the wind that slays with storming snows + Be one with the wind that quickens? Bow thine head, + O Sorrow, and commune with thine heart: who knows? + + + + + VIA DOLOROSA + + + The days of a man are threescore years and ten. + The days of his life were half a man's, whom we + Lament, and would yet not bid him back, to be + Partaker of all the woes and ways of men. + Life sent him enough of sorrow: not again + Would anguish of love, beholding him set free, + Bring back the beloved to suffer life and see + No light but the fire of grief that scathed him then. + + We know not at all: we hope, and do not fear. + We shall not again behold him, late so near, + Who now from afar above, with eyes alight + And spirit enkindled, haply toward us here + Looks down unforgetful yet of days like night + And love that has yet his sightless face in sight. + + _February 15, 1887._ + + + I + + TRANSFIGURATION + + But half a man's days--and his days were nights. + What hearts were ours who loved him, should we pray + That night would yield him back to darkling day, + Sweet death that soothes, to life that spoils and smites? + For now, perchance, life lovelier than the light's + That shed no comfort on his weary way + Shows him what none may dream to see or say + Ere yet the soul may scale those topless heights + Where death lies dead, and triumph. Haply there + Already may his kindling eyesight find + Faces of friends--no face than his more fair-- + And first among them found of all his kind + Milton, with crowns from Eden on his hair, + And eyes that meet a brother's now not blind. + + + II + + DELIVERANCE + + O Death, fair Death, sole comforter and sweet, + Nor Love nor Hope can give such gifts as thine. + Sleep hardly shows us round thy shadowy shrine + What roses hang, what music floats, what feet + Pass and what wings of angels. We repeat + Wild words or mild, disastrous or divine, + Blind prayer, blind imprecation, seeing no sign + Nor hearing aught of thee not faint and fleet + As words of men or snowflakes on the wind. + But if we chide thee, saying "Thou hast sinned, thou hast sinned, + Dark Death, to take so sweet a light away + As shone but late, though shadowed, in our skies," + We hear thine answer--"Night has given what day + Denied him: darkness hath unsealed his eyes." + + + III + + THANKSGIVING + + Could love give strength to thank thee! Love can give + Strong sorrow heart to suffer: what we bear + We would not put away, albeit this were + A burden love might cast aside and live. + Love chooses rather pain than palliative, + Sharp thought than soft oblivion. May we dare + So trample down our passion and our prayer + That fain would cling round feet now fugitive + And stay them--so remember, so forget, + What joy we had who had his presence yet, + What griefs were his while joy in him was ours + And grief made weary music of his breath, + As even to hail his best and last of hours + With love grown strong enough to thank thee, Death? + + + IV + + LIBITINA VERTICORDIA + + Sister of sleep, healer of life, divine + As rest and strong as very love may be, + To set the soul that love could set not free, + To bid the skies that day could bid not shine, + To give the gift that life withheld was thine. + With all my heart I loved one borne from me: + And all my heart bows down and praises thee, + Death, that hast now made grief not his but mine. + + O Changer of men's hearts, we would not bid thee + Turn back our hearts from sorrow: this alone + We bid, we pray thee, from thy sovereign throne + And sanctuary sublime where heaven has hid thee, + Give: grace to know of those for whom we weep + That if they wake their life is sweet as sleep. + + + V + + THE ORDER OF RELEASE + + Thou canst not give it. Grace enough is ours + To know that pain for him has fallen on rest. + The worst we know was his on earth: the best, + We fain would think,--a thought no fear deflowers-- + Is his, released from bonds of rayless hours. + Ah, turn our hearts from longing; bid our quest + Cease, as content with failure. This thy guest + Sleeps, vexed no more of time's imperious powers, + The spirit of hope, the spirit of change and loss, + The spirit of love bowed down beneath his cross, + Nor now needs comfort from the strength of song. + Love, should he wake, bears now no cross for him: + Dead hope, whose living eyes like his were dim, + Has brought forth better comfort, strength more strong. + + + VI + + PSYCHAGOGOS + + As Greece of old acclaimed thee God and man, + So, Death, our tongue acclaims thee: yet wast thou + Hailed of old Rome as Romans hail thee now, + Goddess and woman. Since the sands first ran + That told when first man's life and death began, + The shadows round thy blind ambiguous brow + Have mocked the votive plea, the pleading vow + That sought thee sorrowing, fain to bless or ban. + + But stronger than a father's love is thine, + And gentler than a mother's. Lord and God, + Thy staff is surer than the wizard rod + That Hermes bare as priest before thy shrine + And herald of thy mercies. We could give + Nought, when we would have given: thou bidst him live. + + + VII + + THE LAST WORD + + So many a dream and hope that went and came, + So many and sweet, that love thought like to be, + Of hours as bright and soft as those for me + That made our hearts for song's sweet love the same, + Lie now struck dead, that hope seems one with shame. + O Death, thy name is Love: we know it, and see + The witness: yet for very love's sake we + Can hardly bear to mix with thine his name. + + Philip, how hard it is to bid thee part + Thou knowest, if aught thou knowest where now thou art + Of us that loved and love thee. None may tell + What none but knows--how hard it is to say + The word that seals up sorrow, darkens day, + And bids fare forth the soul it bids farewell. + + + + + IN MEMORY OF AURELIO SAFFI + + + The wider world of men that is not ours + Receives a soul whose life on earth was light. + Though darkness close the date of human hours, + Love holds the spirit and sense of life in sight, + That may not, even though death bid fly, take flight. + Faith, love, and hope fulfilled with memory, see + As clear and dear as life could bid it be + The present soul that is and is not he. + + He, who held up the shield and sword of Rome + Against the ravening brood of recreant France, + Beside the man of men whom heaven took home + When earth beheld the spring's first eyebeams glance + And life and winter seemed alike a trance + Eighteen years since, in sight of heaven and spring + That saw the soul above all souls take wing, + He too now hears the heaven we hear not sing. + + He too now dwells where death is dead, and stands + Where souls like stars exult in life to be: + Whence all who linked heroic hearts and hands + Shine on our sight, and give it strength to see + What hope makes fair for all whom faith makes free: + Free with such freedom as we find in sleep, + The light sweet shadow of death, when dreams are deep + And high as heaven whence light and lightning leap. + + And scarce a month yet gone, his living hand + Writ loving words that sealed me friend of his. + Are heaven and earth as near as sea to strand? + May life and death as bride and bridegroom kiss? + His last month's written word abides, and is; + Clear as the sun that lit through storm and strife + And darkling days when hope took fear to wife + The faith whose fire was light of all his life. + + A life so fair, so pure of earthlier leaven, + That none hath won through higher and harder ways + The deathless life of death which earth calls heaven; + Heaven, and the light of love on earth, and praise + Of silent memory through subsiding days + Wherein the light subsides not whence the past + Feeds full with life the future. Time holds fast + Their names whom faith forgets not, first and last. + + Forget? The dark forgets not dawn, nor we + The suns that sink to rise again, and shine + Lords of live years and ages. Earth and sea + Forget not heaven that makes them seem divine, + Though night put out their fires and bid their shrine + Be dark and pale as storm and twilight. Day, + Not night, is everlasting: life's full sway + Bids death bow down as dead, and pass away. + + What part has death in souls that past all fear + Win heavenward their supernal way, and smite + With scorn sublime as heaven such dreams as here + Plague and perplex with cloud and fire the light + That leads men's waking souls from glimmering night + To the awless heights of day, whereon man's awe, + Transfigured, dies in rapture, seeing the law + Sealed of the sun that earth arising saw? + + Faith, justice, mercy, love, and heaven-born hate + That sets them all on fire and bids them be + More than soft words and dreams that wake too late, + Shone living through the lordly life that we + Beheld, revered, and loved on earth, while he + Dwelt here, and bade our eyes take light thereof; + Light as from heaven that flamed or smiled above + In light or fire whose very hate was love. + + No hate of man, but hate of hate whose foam + Sheds poison forth from tongues of snakes and priests, + And stains the sickening air with steams whence Rome + Now feeds not full the God that slays and feasts; + For now the fangs of all the ravenous beasts + That ramped about him, fain of prayer and prey, + Fulfil their lust no more: the tide of day + Swells, and compels him down the deathward way. + + Night sucks the Church its creature down, and hell + Yawns, heaves, and yearns to clasp its loathliest child + Close to the breasts that bore it. All the spell + Whence darkness saw the dawn in heaven defiled + Is dumb as death: the lips that lied and smiled + Wax white for fear as ashes. She that bore + The banner up of darkness now no more + Sheds night and fear and shame from shore to shore. + + When they that cast her kingdom down were born, + North cried on south and east made moan to west + For hopes that love had hardly heart to mourn, + For Italy that was not. Kings on quest, + By priests whose blessings burn as curses blest, + Made spoil of souls and bodies bowed and bound, + Hunted and harried, leashed as horse or hound, + And hopeless of the hope that died unfound. + + And now that faith has brought forth fruit to time, + How should not memory praise their names, and hold + Their record even as Dante's life sublime, + Who bade his dream, found fair and false of old, + Live? Not till earth and heaven be dead and cold + May man forget whose work and will made one + Italy, fair as heaven or freedom won, + And left their fame to shine beside her sun. + + _April 1890._ + + + + + THE FESTIVAL OF BEATRICE + + + Dante, sole standing on the heavenward height, + Beheld and heard one saying, "Behold me well: + I am, I am Beatrice." Heaven and hell + Kept silence, and the illimitable light + Of all the stars was darkness in his sight + Whose eyes beheld her eyes again, and fell + Shame-stricken. Since her soul took flight to dwell + In heaven, six hundred years have taken flight. + + And now that heavenliest part of earth whereon + Shines yet their shadow as once their presence shone + To her bears witness for his sake, as he + For hers bare witness when her face was gone: + No slave, no hospice now for grief--but free + From shore to mountain and from Alp to sea. + + + + + THE MONUMENT OF GIORDANO BRUNO + + + I + + Not from without us, only from within, + Comes or can ever come upon us light + Whereby the soul keeps ever truth in sight. + No truth, no strength, no comfort man may win, + No grace for guidance, no release from sin, + Save of his own soul's giving. Deep and bright + As fire enkindled in the core of night + Burns in the soul where once its fire has been + The light that leads and quickens thought, inspired + To doubt and trust and conquer. So he said + Whom Sidney, flower of England, lordliest head + Of all we love, loved: but the fates required + A sacrifice to hate and hell, ere fame + Should set with his in heaven Giordano's name. + + + II + + Cover thine eyes and weep, O child of hell, + Grey spouse of Satan, Church of name abhorred. + Weep, withered harlot, with thy weeping lord, + Now none will buy the heaven thou hast to sell + At price of prostituted souls, and swell + Thy loveless list of lovers. Fire and sword + No more are thine: the steel, the wheel, the cord, + The flames that rose round living limbs, and fell + In lifeless ash and ember, now no more + Approve thee godlike. Rome, redeemed at last + From all the red pollution of thy past, + Acclaims the grave bright face that smiled of yore + Even on the fire that caught it round and clomb + To cast its ashes on the face of Rome. + + _June 9, 1889._ + + + + + LIFE IN DEATH + + + He should have followed who goes forth before us, + Last born of us in life, in death first-born: + The last to lift up eyes against the morn, + The first to see the sunset. Life, that bore us + Perchance for death to comfort and restore us, + Of him hath left us here awhile forlorn, + For him is as a garment overworn, + And time and change, with suns and stars in chorus, + Silent. But if, beyond all change or time, + A law more just, more equal, more sublime + Than sways the surge of life's loud sterile sea + Sways that still world whose peace environs him, + Where death lies dead as night when stars wax dim, + Above all thought or hope of ours is he. + + _August 2, 1891._ + + + + + EPICEDE + + + As a vesture shalt thou change them, said the prophet, + And the raiment that was flesh is turned to dust; + Dust and flesh and dust again the likeness of it, + And the fine gold woven and worn of youth is rust. + Hours that wax and wane salute the shade and scoff it, + That it knows not aught it doth nor aught it must: + Day by day the speeding soul makes haste to doff it, + Night by night the pride of life resigns its trust. + + Sleep, whose silent notes of song loud life's derange not, + Takes the trust in hand awhile as angels may: + Joy with wings that rest not, grief with wings that range not, + Guard the gates of sleep and waking, gold or grey. + Joys that joys estrange, and griefs that griefs estrange not, + Day that yearns for night, and night that yearns for day, + As a vesture shalt thou change them, and they change not, + Seeing that change may never change or pass away. + + Life of death makes question, "What art thou that changest? + What am I, that fear should trust or faith should doubt? + I that lighten, thou that darkenest and estrangest, + Is it night or day that girds us round about? + Light and darkness on the ways wherein thou rangest + Seem as one, and beams as clouds they put to rout. + Strange is hope, but fear of all things born were strangest, + Seeing that none may strive with change to cast it out. + + "Change alone stands fast, thou sayest, O death: I know not: + What art thou, my brother death, that thou shouldst know? + Men may reap no fruits of fields wherein they sow not; + Hope or fear is all the seed we have to sow. + Winter seals the sacred springs up that they flow not: + Wind and sun and change unbind them, and they flow. + Am I thou or art thou I? The years that show not + Pass, and leave no sign when time shall be to show." + + Hope makes suit to faith lest fear give ear to sorrow: + Doubt strews dust upon his head, and goes his way. + All the golden hope that life of death would borrow, + How, if death require again, may life repay? + Earth endures no darkness whence no light yearns thorough; + God in man as light in darkness lives, they say: + Yet, would midnight take assurance of the morrow, + Who shall pledge the faith or seal the bond of day? + + Darkness, mute or loud with music or with mourning, + Starry darkness, winged with wind or clothed with calm, + Dreams no dream of grief or fear or wrath or warning, + Bears no sign of race or goal or strife or palm. + Word of blessing, word of mocking or of scorning, + Knows it none, nor whence its breath sheds blight or balm. + Yet a little while, and hark, the psalm of morning: + Yet a little while, and silence takes the psalm. + + All the comfort, all the worship, all the wonder, + All the light of love that darkness holds in fee, + All the song that silence keeps or keeps not under, + Night, the soul that knows gives thanks for all to thee. + Far beyond the gates that morning strikes in sunder, + Hopes that grief makes holy, dreams that fear sets free, + Far above the throne of thought, the lair of thunder, + Silent shines the word whose utterance fills the sea. + + + + + MEMORIAL VERSES ON THE DEATH OF WILLIAM BELL SCOTT + + + A life more bright than the sun's face, bowed + Through stress of season and coil of cloud, + Sets: and the sorrow that casts out fear + Scarce deems him dead in his chill still shroud, + + Dead on the breast of the dying year, + Poet and painter and friend, thrice dear + For love of the suns long set, for love + Of song that sets not with sunset here, + + For love of the fervent heart, above + Their sense who saw not the swift light move + That filled with sense of the loud sun's lyre + The thoughts that passion was fain to prove + + In fervent labour of high desire + And faith that leapt from its own quenched pyre + Alive and strong as the sun, and caught + From darkness light, and from twilight fire. + + Passion, deep as the depths unsought + Whence faith's own hope may redeem us nought, + Filled full with ardour of pain sublime + His mourning song and his mounting thought. + + Elate with sense of a sterner time, + His hand's flight clomb as a bird's might climb + Calvary: dark in the darkling air + That shrank for fear of the crowning crime, + + Three crosses rose on the hillside bare, + Shown scarce by grace of the lightning's glare + That clove the veil of the temple through + And smote the priests on the threshold there. + + The soul that saw it, the hand that drew, + Whence light as thought's or as faith's glance flew, + And stung to life the sepulchral past, + And bade the stars of it burn anew, + + Held no less than the dead world fast + The light live shadows about them cast, + The likeness living of dawn and night, + The days that pass and the dreams that last. + + Thought, clothed round with sorrow as light, + Dark as a cloud that the moon turns bright, + Moved, as a wind on the striving sea, + That yearns and quickens and flags in flight, + + Through forms of colour and song that he + Who fain would have set its wide wings free + Cast round it, clothing or chaining hope + With lights that last not and shades that flee. + + Scarce in song could his soul find scope, + Scarce the strength of his hand might ope + Art's inmost gate of her sovereign shrine, + To cope with heaven as a man may cope. + + But high as the hope of a man may shine + The faith, the fervour, the life divine + That thrills our life and transfigures, rose + And shone resurgent, a sunbright sign, + + Through shapes whereunder the strong soul glows + And fills them full as a sunlit rose + With sense and fervour of life, whose light + The fool's eye knows not, the man's eye knows. + + None that can read or divine aright + The scriptures writ of the soul may slight + The strife of a strenuous soul to show + More than the craft of the hand may write. + + None may slight it, and none may know + How high the flames that aspire and glow + From heart and spirit and soul may climb + And triumph; higher than the souls lie low + + Whose hearing hears not the livelong rhyme, + Whose eyesight sees not the light sublime, + That shines, that sounds, that ascends and lives + Unquenched of change, unobscured of time. + + A long life's length, as a man's life gives + Space for the spirit that soars and strives + To strive and soar, has the soul shone through + That heeds not whither the world's wind drives + + Now that the days and the ways it knew + Are strange, are dead as the dawn's grey dew + At high midnoon of the mounting day + That mocks the might of the dawn it slew. + + Yet haply may not--and haply may-- + No sense abide of the dead sun's ray + Wherein the soul that outsoars us now + Rejoiced with ours in its radiant sway. + + Hope may hover, and doubt may bow, + Dreaming. Haply--they dream not how-- + Not life but death may indeed be dead + When silence darkens the dead man's brow. + + Hope, whose name is remembrance, fed + With love that lightens from seasons fled, + Dreams, and craves not indeed to know, + That death and life are as souls that wed. + + But change that falls on the heart like snow + Can chill not memory nor hope, that show + The soul, the spirit, the heart and head, + Alive above us who strive below. + + + + + AN OLD SAYING + + + Many waters cannot quench love, + Neither can the floods drown it. + Who shall snare or slay the white dove + Faith, whose very dreams crown it, + Gird it round with grace and peace, deep, + Warm, and pure, and soft as sweet sleep? + Many waters cannot quench love, + Neither can the floods drown it. + + Set me as a seal upon thine heart, + As a seal upon thine arm. + How should we behold the days depart + And the nights resign their charm? + Love is as the soul: though hate and fear + Waste and overthrow, they strike not here. + Set me as a seal upon thine heart, + As a seal upon thine arm. + + + + + A MOSS-ROSE + + + If the rose of all flowers be the rarest + That heaven may adore from above, + And the fervent moss-rose be the fairest + That sweetens the summer with love, + + Can it be that a fairer than any + Should blossom afar from the tree? + Yet one, and a symbol of many, + Shone sudden for eyes that could see. + + In the grime and the gloom of November + The bliss and the bloom of July + Bade autumn rejoice and remember + The balm of the blossoms gone by. + + Would you know what moss-rose now it may be + That puts all the rest to the blush, + The flower was the face of a baby, + The moss was a bonnet of plush. + + + + + TO A CAT + + + I + + Stately, kindly, lordly friend, + Condescend + Here to sit by me, and turn + Glorious eyes that smile and burn, + Golden eyes, love's lustrous meed, + On the golden page I read. + + All your wondrous wealth of hair, + Dark and fair, + Silken-shaggy, soft and bright + As the clouds and beams of night, + Pays my reverent hand's caress + Back with friendlier gentleness. + + Dogs may fawn on all and some + As they come; + You, a friend of loftier mind, + Answer friends alone in kind. + Just your foot upon my hand + Softly bids it understand. + + Morning round this silent sweet + Garden-seat + Sheds its wealth of gathering light, + Thrills the gradual clouds with might, + Changes woodland, orchard, heath, + Lawn, and garden there beneath. + + Fair and dim they gleamed below: + Now they glow + Deep as even your sunbright eyes, + Fair as even the wakening skies. + Can it not or can it be + Now that you give thanks to see? + + May not you rejoice as I, + Seeing the sky + Change to heaven revealed, and bid + Earth reveal the heaven it hid + All night long from stars and moon, + Now the sun sets all in tune? + + What within you wakes with day + Who can say? + All too little may we tell, + Friends who like each other well, + What might haply, if we might, + Bid us read our lives aright. + + + II + + Wild on woodland ways your sires + Flashed like fires; + Fair as flame and fierce and fleet + As with wings on wingless feet + Shone and sprang your mother, free, + Bright and brave as wind or sea. + + Free and proud and glad as they, + Here to-day + Rests or roams their radiant child, + Vanquished not, but reconciled, + Free from curb of aught above + Save the lovely curb of love. + + Love through dreams of souls divine + Fain would shine + Round a dawn whose light and song + Then should right our mutual wrong-- + Speak, and seal the love-lit law + Sweet Assisi's seer foresaw. + + Dreams were theirs; yet haply may + Dawn a day + When such friends and fellows born, + Seeing our earth as fair at morn, + May for wiser love's sake see + More of heaven's deep heart than we. + + + + + HAWTHORN DYKE + + + All the golden air is full of balm and bloom + Where the hawthorns line the shelving dyke with flowers. + Joyous children born of April's happiest hours, + High and low they laugh and lighten, knowing their doom + Bright as brief--to bless and cheer they know not whom, + Heed not how, but washed and warmed with suns and showers + Smile, and bid the sweet soft gradual banks and bowers + Thrill with love of sunlit fire or starry gloom. + All our moors and lawns all round rejoice; but here + All the rapturous resurrection of the year + Finds the radiant utterance perfect, sees the word + Spoken, hears the light that speaks it. Far and near, + All the world is heaven: and man and flower and bird + Here are one at heart with all things seen and heard. + + + + + THE BROTHERS + + + There were twa brethren fell on strife; + Sweet fruits are sair to gather: + The tane has reft his brother of life; + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + There were twa brethren fell to fray; + Sweet fruits are sair to gather: + The tane is clad in a cloak of clay; + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + O loud and loud was the live man's cry, + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "Would God the dead and the slain were I!" + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "O sair was the wrang and sair the fray," + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "But liefer had love be slain than slay." + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "O sweet is the life that sleeps at hame," + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "But I maun wake on a far sea's faem." + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "And women are fairest of a' things fair," + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "But never shall I kiss woman mair." + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + Between the birk and the aik and the thorn + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + He's laid his brother to lie forlorn: + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + Between the bent and the burn and the broom + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + He's laid him to sleep till dawn of doom: + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + He's tane him owre the waters wide, + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + Afar to fleet and afar to bide: + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + His hair was yellow, his cheek was red, + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + When he set his face to the wind and fled: + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + His banes were stark and his een were bright + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + When he set his face to the sea by night: + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + His cheek was wan and his hair was grey + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + When he came back hame frae the wide world's way: + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + His banes were weary, his een were dim, + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + And nae man lived and had mind of him: + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "O whatten a wreck wad they seek on land" + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "That they houk the turf to the seaward hand?" + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "O whatten a prey wad they think to take" + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "That they delve the dykes for a dead man's sake?" + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + A bane of the dead in his hand he's tane; + Sweet fruits are sair to gather: + And the red blood brak frae the dead white bane. + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + He's cast it forth of his auld faint hand; + Sweet fruits are sair to gather: + And the red blood ran on the wan wet sand. + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "O whatten a slayer is this," they said, + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "That the straik of his hand should raise his dead?" + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "O weel is me for the sign I take" + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "That now I may die for my auld sin's sake." + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "For the dead was in wait now fifty year," + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "And now shall I die for his blood's sake here." + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + + + + JACOBITE SONG + + + Now who will speak, and lie not, + And pledge not life, but give? + Slaves herd with herded cattle: + The dawn grows bright for battle, + And if we die, we die not; + And if we live, we live. + + The faith our fathers fought for, + The kings our fathers knew, + We fight but as they fought for: + We seek the goal they sought for, + The chance they hailed and knew, + The praise they strove and wrought for, + To leave their blood as dew + On fields that flower anew. + + Men live that serve the stranger; + Hounds live that huntsmen tame: + These life-days of our living + Are days of God's good giving + Where death smiles soft on danger + And life scowls dark on shame. + + And what would you do other, + Sweet wife, if you were I? + And how should you be other, + My sister, than your brother, + If you were man as I, + Born of our sire and mother, + With choice to cower and fly, + And chance to strike and die? + + No churl's our oldworld name is, + The lands we leave are fair: + But fairer far than these are, + But wide as all the seas are, + But high as heaven the fame is + That if we die we share. + + Our name the night may swallow, + Our lands the churl may take: + But night nor death may swallow, + Nor hell's nor heaven's dim hollow, + The star whose height we take, + The star whose light we follow + For faith's unfaltering sake + Till hope that sleeps awake. + + Soft hope's light lure we serve not, + Nor follow, fain to find: + Dark time's last word may smite her + Dead, ere man's falsehood blight her, + But though she die, we swerve not, + Who cast not eye behind. + + Faith speaks when hope dissembles: + Faith lives when hope lies dead: + If death as life dissembles, + And all that night assembles + Of stars at dawn lie dead, + Faint hope that smiles and trembles + May tell not well for dread: + But faith has heard it said. + + Now who will fight, and fly not, + And grudge not life to give? + And who will strike beside us, + If life's or death's light guide us? + For if we live, we die not, + And if we die, we live. + + + + + THE BALLAD OF DEAD MEN'S BAY + + + The sea swings owre the slants of sand, + All white with winds that drive; + The sea swirls up to the still dim strand, + Where nae man comes alive. + + At the grey soft edge of the fruitless surf + A light flame sinks and springs; + At the grey soft rim of the flowerless turf + A low flame leaps and clings. + + What light is this on a sunless shore, + What gleam on a starless sea? + Was it earth's or hell's waste womb that bore + Such births as should not be? + + As lithe snakes turning, as bright stars burning, + They bicker and beckon and call; + As wild waves churning, as wild winds yearning, + They flicker and climb and fall. + + A soft strange cry from the landward rings-- + "What ails the sea to shine?" + A keen sweet note from the spray's rim springs-- + "What fires are these of thine?" + + A soul am I that was born on earth + For ae day's waesome span: + Death bound me fast on the bourn of birth + Ere I were christened man. + + "A light by night, I fleet and fare + Till the day of wrath and woe; + On the hems of earth and the skirts of air + Winds hurl me to and fro." + + "O well is thee, though the weird be strange + That bids thee flit and flee; + For hope is child of the womb of change, + And hope keeps watch with thee. + + "When the years are gone, and the time is come, + God's grace may give thee grace; + And thy soul may sing, though thy soul were dumb, + And shine before God's face. + + "But I, that lighten and revel and roll + With the foam of the plunging sea, + No sign is mine of a breathing soul + That God should pity me. + + "Nor death, nor heaven, nor hell, nor birth + Hath part in me nor mine: + Strong lords are these of the living earth + And loveless lords of thine. + + "But I that know nor lord nor life + More sure than storm or spray, + Whose breath is made of sport and strife, + Whereon shall I find stay?" + + "And wouldst thou change thy doom with me, + Full fain with thee would I: + For the life that lightens and lifts the sea + Is more than earth or sky. + + "And what if the day of doubt and doom + Shall save nor smite not me? + I would not rise from the slain world's tomb + If there be no more sea. + + "Take he my soul that gave my soul, + And give it thee to keep; + And me, while seas and stars shall roll + Thy life that falls on sleep." + + That word went up through the mirk mid sky, + And even to God's own ear: + And the Lord was ware of the keen twin cry, + And wroth was he to hear. + + He's tane the soul of the unsained child + That fled to death from birth; + He's tane the light of the wan sea wild, + And bid it burn on earth. + + He's given the ghaist of the babe new-born + The gift of the water-sprite, + To ride on revel from morn to morn + And roll from night to night. + + He's given the sprite of the wild wan sea + The gift of the new-born man, + A soul for ever to bide and be + When the years have filled their span. + + When a year was gone and a year was come, + O loud and loud cried they-- + "For the lee-lang year thou hast held us dumb + Take now thy gifts away!" + + O loud and lang they cried on him, + And sair and sair they prayed: + "Is the face of thy grace as the night's face grim + For those thy wrath has made?" + + A cry more bitter than tears of men + From the rim of the dim grey sea;-- + "Give me my living soul again, + The soul thou gavest me, + The doom and the dole of kindly men, + To bide my weird and be!" + + A cry more keen from the wild low land + Than the wail of waves that roll;-- + "Take back the gift of a loveless hand, + Thy gift of doom and dole, + The weird of men that bide on land; + Take from me, take my soul!" + + The hands that smite are the hands that spare; + They build and break the tomb; + They turn to darkness and dust and air + The fruits of the waste earth's womb; + But never the gift of a granted prayer, + The dole of a spoken doom. + + Winds may change at a word unheard, + But none may change the tides: + The prayer once heard is as God's own word; + The doom once dealt abides. + + And ever a cry goes up by day, + And ever a wail by night; + And nae ship comes by the weary bay + But her shipmen hear them wail and pray, + And see with earthly sight + The twofold flames of the twin lights play + Where the sea-banks green and the sea-floods grey + Are proud of peril and fain of prey, + And the sand quakes ever; and ill fare they + That look upon that light. + + + + + DEDICATION + + 1893 + + + The sea of the years that endure not + Whose tide shall endure till we die + And know what the seasons assure not, + If death be or life be a lie, + Sways hither the spirit and thither, + A waif in the swing of the sea + Whose wrecks are of memories that wither + As leaves of a tree. + + We hear not and hail not with greeting + The sound of the wings of the years, + The storm of the sound of them beating, + That none till it pass from him hears: + But tempest nor calm can imperil + The treasures that fade not or fly; + Change bids them not change and be sterile, + Death bids them not die. + + Hearts plighted in youth to the royal + High service of hope and of song, + Sealed fast for endurance as loyal, + And proved of the years as they throng, + Conceive not, believe not, and fear not + That age may be other than youth; + That faith and that friendship may hear not + And utter not truth. + + Not yesterday's light nor to-morrow's + Gleams nearer or clearer than gleams, + Though joys be forgotten and sorrows + Forgotten as changes of dreams, + The dawn of the days unforgotten + That noon could eclipse not or slay, + Whose fruits were as children begotten + Of dawn upon day. + + The years that were flowerful and fruitless, + The years that were fruitful and dark, + The hopes that were radiant and rootless, + The hopes that were winged for their mark, + Lie soft in the sepulchres fashioned + Of hours that arise and subside, + Absorbed and subdued and impassioned, + In pain or in pride. + + But far in the night that entombs them + The starshine as sunshine is strong, + And clear through the cloud that resumes them + Remembrance, a light and a song, + Rings lustrous as music and hovers + As birds that impend on the sea, + And thoughts that their prison-house covers + Arise and are free. + + Forgetfulness deep as a prison + Holds days that are dead for us fast + Till the sepulchre sees rearisen + The spirit whose reign is the past, + Disentrammelled of darkness, and kindled + With life that is mightier than death, + When the life that obscured it has dwindled + And passed as a breath. + + But time nor oblivion may darken + Remembrance whose name will be joy + While memory forgets not to hearken, + While manhood forgets not the boy + Who heard and exulted in hearing + The songs of the sunrise of youth + Ring radiant above him, unfearing + And joyous as truth. + + Truth, winged and enkindled with rapture + And sense of the radiance of yore, + Fulfilled you with power to recapture + What never might singer before-- + The life, the delight, and the sorrow + Of troublous and chivalrous years + That knew not of night or of morrow, + Of hopes or of fears. + + But wider the wing and the vision + That quicken the spirit have spread + Since memory beheld with derision + Man's hope to be more than his dead. + From the mists and the snows and the thunders + Your spirit has brought for us forth + Light, music, and joy in the wonders + And charms of the north. + + The wars and the woes and the glories + That quicken and lighten and rain + From the clouds of its chronicled stories, + The passion, the pride, and the pain, + Whose echoes were mute and the token + Was lost of the spells that they spake, + Rise bright at your bidding, unbroken + Of ages that break. + + For you, and for none of us other, + Time is not: the dead that must live + Hold commune with you as a brother + By grace of the life that you give. + The heart that was in them is in you, + Their soul in your spirit endures: + The strength of their song is the sinew + Of this that is yours. + + Hence is it that life, everlasting + As light and as music, abides + In the sound of the surge of it, casting + Sound back to the surge of the tides, + Till sons of the sons of the Norsemen + Watch, hurtling to windward and lee, + Round England, unbacked of her horsemen, + The steeds of the sea. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Astrophel and Other Poems, by +Algernon Charles Swinburne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTROPHEL AND OTHER POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 18673-8.txt or 18673-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/6/7/18673/ + +Produced by Paul Murray, Lisa Reigel, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Astrophel and Other Poems + Taken from The Collected Poetical Works of Algernon Charles + Swinburne, Vol. VI + +Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne + +Release Date: June 24, 2006 [EBook #18673] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTROPHEL AND OTHER POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Paul Murray, Lisa Reigel, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="mynote">Transcriber's Note: Greek words that may not display correctly in all browsers are +transliterated in popups: <ins class="greekcorr" +title="biblos">βιβλος</ins>. Position your +mouse over the word to see the transliteration.</p> + +<h1 style="margin-top: 3em;">ASTROPHEL AND OTHER POEMS</h1> + + +<h4 style="margin-top: 6em;">By</h4> + +<h2>Algernon Charles Swinburne</h2> + +<h4 style="margin-top: 6em;">TAKEN FROM<br /></h4> +<h3 style="margin-bottom: 3em;">THE COLLECTED POETICAL WORKS OF ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE—VOL. VI</h3> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3 style="margin-top: 3em;">THE COLLECTED POETICAL WORKS OF ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE</h3> + +<h5>VOL. VI</h5> + +<h4 style="margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;">A MIDSUMMER HOLIDAY: ASTROPHEL: A CHANNEL PASSAGE AND OTHER TALES</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SWINBURNE'S POETICAL WORKS</h2> + +<div class='centered'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="8" summary="works"> +<tr> + <td class="r">I.</td> + <td class="l"><span class="smcap">Poems and Ballads</span> (First Series).<br /></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="r">II.</td> + <td class="l"><span class="smcap">Songs before Sunrise</span>, and <span class="smcap">Songs of Two Nations</span>.<br /></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="r">III.</td> + <td class="l"><span class="smcap">Poems and Ballads</span> (Second and Third Series), and <span class="smcap">Songs of The Springtides</span>.<br /></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="r">IV.</td> + <td class="l"><span class="smcap">Tristram of Lyonesse, The Tale of Balen, Atalanta in Calydon, Erechtheus.<br /></span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="r">V.</td> + <td class="l"><span class="smcap">Studies in Song, A Century of Roundels, Sonnets on English Dramatic Poets, The Heptalogia, Etc.<br /></span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="r">VI.</td> + <td class="l"><span class="smcap">A Midsummer Holiday, Astrophel, A Channel Passage and Other Poems.<br /></span></td> +</tr> +</table></div> + + + +<h4>LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1 style="margin-top: 4em">A MIDSUMMER HOLIDAY: ASTROPHEL: A CHANNEL PASSAGE AND OTHER POEMS</h1> + +<h3 style="margin-top: 3em">By</h3> + +<h2>Algernon Charles Swinburne</h2> + + +<h4 style="margin-top: 3em">1917</h4> + +<p class="gap center">LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN</p> + + +<p class="center biggap"><i>First printed</i> (<i>Chatto</i>), 1904<br /> + +<i>Reprinted</i> 1904, '09, '10, '12<br /> + +(<i>Heinemann</i>), 1917</p> + + +<p class="center gap"><i>London: William Heinemann</i>, 1917</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></p> +<h2>ASTROPHEL AND OTHER POEMS</h2> + +<div class="centered"> +<table width="80%" cellpadding="3" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Astrophel</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">A Nympholept</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">On the South Coast</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">An Autumn Vision</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">A Swimmer's Dream</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Grace Darling</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Loch Torridon</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Palace of Pan</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">A Year's Carols</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">England: an Ode</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Eton: an Ode</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Union</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">East to West</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Inscriptions for the Four Sides of a Pedestal</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">On the Death of Richard Burton</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Elegy</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span><span class="smcap">A Sequence of Sonnets on the Death of Robert Browning</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Sunset and Moonrise</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Birthday Ode</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_214">214</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Threnody</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Ballad of Melicertes</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Au Tombeau de Banville</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Light: an Epicede</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Threnody</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">A Dirge</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">A Reminiscence</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Via Dolorosa</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="r" style="width: 10%;">I.</td> + <td style="width: 70%;"><span class="smcap">Transfiguration</span></td> + <td class="r" style="width: 20%;"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="r">II.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">Deliverance</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_232">232</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="r">III.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">Thanksgiving</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="r">IV.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">Libitina Verticordia</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="r">V.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">The Order of Release</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="r">VI.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">Psychagogos</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="r">VII.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">The Last Word</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">In Memory of Aurelio Saffi</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_238">238</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Festival of Beatrice</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Monument of Giordano Bruno</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Life in Death</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Epicede</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Memorial Verses on the Death of William Bell Scott</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">An Old Saying</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">A Moss-Rose</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">To a Cat</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Hawthorn Dyke</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Brothers</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Jacobite Song</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Ballad of Dead Men's Bay</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Dedication</span></td> + <td class="r"><a href="#Page_271">271</a></td> +</tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 style="margin-top: 2em;">ASTROPHEL AND OTHER POEMS</h2> + + +<h4 style="margin-top: 4em;">TO WILLIAM MORRIS</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> +<h2>ASTROPHEL</h2> + +<h3>AFTER READING SIR PHILIP SIDNEY'S ARCADIA IN THE +GARDEN OF AN OLD ENGLISH MANOR HOUSE</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A star in the silence that follows<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The song of the death of the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speaks music in heaven, and the hollows<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And heights of the world are as one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One lyre that outsings and outlightens<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The rapture of sunset, and thrills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mute night till the sense of it brightens<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The soul that it fills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flowers of the sun that is sunken<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hang heavy of heart as of head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bees that have eaten and drunken<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The soul of their sweetness are fled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a sunflower of song, on whose honey<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My spirit has fed as a bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes sunnier than morning was sunny<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The twilight for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The letters and lines on the pages<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That sundered mine eyes and the flowers<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span><span class="i0">Wax faint as the shadows of ages<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That sunder their season and ours;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the ghosts of the centuries that sever<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A season of colourless time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the days whose remembrance is ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As they were, sublime.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The season that bred and that cherished<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The soul that I commune with yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had it utterly withered and perished<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To rise not again as it set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shame were it that Englishmen living<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Should read as their forefathers read<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The books of the praise and thanksgiving<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of Englishmen dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O light of the land that adored thee<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And kindled thy soul with her breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose life, such as fate would afford thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Was lovelier than aught but thy death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By what name, could thy lovers but know it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Might love of thee hail thee afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Philisides, Astrophel, poet<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whose love was thy star?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A star in the moondawn of Maytime,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A star in the cloudland of change;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too splendid and sad for the daytime<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To cheer or eclipse or estrange;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too sweet for tradition or vision<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To see but through shadows of tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise deathless across the division<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of measureless years.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span><span class="i0">The twilight may deepen and harden<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As nightward the stream of it runs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till starshine transfigure a garden<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose radiance responds to the sun's:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light of the love of thee darkens<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The lights that arise and that set:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love that forgets thee not hearkens<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If England forget.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bright and brief in the sight of grief and love the light of thy lifetime shone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seen and felt by the gifts it dealt, the grace it gave, and again was gone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, but now it is death, not thou, whom time has conquered as years pass on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ay, not yet may the land forget that bore and loved thee and praised and wept,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sidney, lord of the stainless sword, the name of names that her heart's love kept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fast as thine did her own, a sign to light thy life till it sank and slept.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bright as then for the souls of men thy brave Arcadia resounds and shines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lit with love that beholds above all joys and sorrows the steadfast signs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faith, a splendour that hope makes tender, and truth, whose presage the soul divines.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All the glory that girds the story of all thy life as with sunlight round,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span><span class="i0">All the spell that on all souls fell who saw thy spirit, and held them bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lives for all that have heard the call and cadence yet of its music sound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Music bright as the soul of light, for wings an eagle, for notes a dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaps and shines from the lustrous lines wherethrough thy soul from afar above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone and sang till the darkness rang with light whose fire is the fount of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love that led thee alive, and fed thy soul with sorrows and joys and fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love that sped thee, alive and dead, to fame's fair goal with thy peerless peers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feeds the flame of thy quenchless name with light that lightens the rayless years.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dark as sorrow though night and morrow may lower with presage of clouded fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How may she that of old bare thee, may Sidney's England, be brought to shame?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How should this be, while England is? What need of answer beyond thy name?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">III<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the love that transfigures thy glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From the light of the dawn of thy death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The life of thy song and thy story<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Took subtler and fierier breath.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span><span class="i0">And we, though the day and the morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Set fear and thanksgiving at strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hail yet in the star of thy sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The sun of thy life.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shame and fear may beset men here, and bid thanksgiving and pride be dumb:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faith, discrowned of her praise, and wound about with toils till her life wax numb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce may see if the sundawn be, if darkness die not and dayrise come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But England, enmeshed and benetted<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With spiritless villainies round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With counsels of cowardice fretted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With trammels of treason enwound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is yet, though the season be other<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than wept and rejoiced over thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine England, thy lover, thy mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Sublime as the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hers wast thou: if her face be now less bright, or seem for an hour less brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let but thine on her darkness shine, thy saviour spirit revive and save,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time shall see, as the shadows flee, her shame entombed in a shameful grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If death and not life were the portal<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That opens on life at the last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the spirit of Sidney were mortal<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the past of it utterly past,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span><span class="i0">Fear stronger than honour was ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Forgetfulness mightier than fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faith knows not if England should never<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Subside into shame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yea, but yet is thy sun not set, thy sunbright spirit of trust withdrawn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">England's love of thee burns above all hopes that darken or fears that fawn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hers thou art: and the faithful heart that hopes begets upon darkness dawn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sunset that sunrise will follow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is less than the dream of a dream:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The starshine on height and on hollow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sheds promise that dawn shall redeem:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night, if the daytime would hide it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shows lovelier, aflame and afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy soul and thy Stella's beside it,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">A star by a star.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> +<h2>A NYMPHOLEPT</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Summer, and noon, and a splendour of silence, felt,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seen, and heard of the spirit within the sense.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft through the frondage the shades of the sunbeams melt,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sharp through the foliage the shafts of them, keen and dense,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Cleave, as discharged from the string of the God's bow, tense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a war-steed's girth, and bright as a warrior's belt.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ah, why should an hour that is heaven for an hour pass hence?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dare not sleep for delight of the perfect hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lest God be wroth that his gift should be scorned of man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The face of the warm bright world is the face of a flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The word of the wind and the leaves that the light winds fan<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As the word that quickened at first into flame, and ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Creative and subtle and fierce with invasive power,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through darkness and cloud, from the breath of the one God, Pan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span><span class="i0">The perfume of earth possessed by the sun pervades<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The chaster air that he soothes but with sense of sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft, imminent, strong as desire that prevails and fades,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The passing noon that beholds not a cloudlet weep<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Imbues and impregnates life with delight more deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than dawn or sunset or moonrise on lawns or glades<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Can shed from the skies that receive it and may not keep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The skies may hold not the splendour of sundown fast;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It wanes into twilight as dawn dies down into day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the moon, triumphant when twilight is overpast,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Takes pride but awhile in the hours of her stately sway.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But the might of the noon, though the light of it pass away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaves earth fulfilled of desires and of dreams that last;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But if any there be that hath sense of them none can say.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For if any there be that hath sight of them, sense, or trust<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Made strong by the might of a vision, the strength of a dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His lips shall straiten and close as a dead man's must,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His heart shall be sealed as the voice of a frost-bound stream.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span><span class="i1">For the deep mid mystery of light and of heat that seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To clasp and pierce dark earth, and enkindle dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall a man's faith say what it is? or a man's guess deem?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleep lies not heavier on eyes that have watched all night<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than hangs the heat of the noon on the hills and trees.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why now should the haze not open, and yield to sight<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A fairer secret than hope or than slumber sees?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I seek not heaven with submission of lips and knees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With worship and prayer for a sign till it leap to light:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I gaze on the gods about me, and call on these.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I call on the gods hard by, the divine dim powers<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose likeness is here at hand, in the breathless air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the pulseless peace of the fervid and silent flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the faint sweet speech of the waters that whisper there.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ah, what should darkness do in a world so fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bent-grass heaves not, the couch-grass quails not or cowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The wind's kiss frets not the rowan's or aspen's hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the silence trembles with passion of sound suppressed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the twilight quivers and yearns to the sunward, wrung<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span><span class="i0">With love as with pain; and the wide wood's motionless breast<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is thrilled with a dumb desire that would fain find tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And palpitates, tongueless as she whom a man-snake stung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose heart now heaves in the nightingale, never at rest<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor satiated ever with song till her last be sung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is it rapture or terror that circles me round, and invades<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Each vein of my life with hope—if it be not fear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each pulse that awakens my blood into rapture fades,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Each pulse that subsides into dread of a strange thing near<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Requickens with sense of a terror less dread than dear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is peace not one with light in the deep green glades<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where summer at noonday slumbers? Is peace not here?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tall thin stems of the firs, and the roof sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That screens from the sun the floor of the steep still wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep, silent, splendid, and perfect and calm as time,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Stand fast as ever in sight of the night they stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When night gave all that moonlight and dewfall could.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dense ferns deepen, the moss glows warm as the thyme:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The wild heath quivers about me: the world is good.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span><span class="i0">Is it Pan's breath, fierce in the tremulous maidenhair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That bids fear creep as a snake through the woodlands, felt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the leaves that it stirs not yet, in the mute bright air,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the stress of the sun? For here has the great God dwelt:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For hence were the shafts of his love or his anger dealt.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For here has his wrath been fierce as his love was fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When each was as fire to the darkness its breath bade melt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is it love, is it dread, that enkindles the trembling noon,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That yearns, reluctant in rapture that fear has fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As man for woman, as woman for man? Full soon,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If I live, and the life that may look on him drop not dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall the ear that hears not a leaf quake hear his tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sense that knows not the sound of the deep day's tune<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Receive the God, be it love that he brings or dread.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The naked noon is upon me: the fierce dumb spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The fearful charm of the strong sun's imminent might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unmerciful, steadfast, deeper than seas that swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pervades, invades, appals me with loveless light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With harsher awe than breathes in the breath of night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have mercy, God who art all! For I know thee well,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How sharp is thine eye to lighten, thine hand to smite.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span><span class="i0">The whole wood feels thee, the whole air fears thee: but fear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So deep, so dim, so sacred, is wellnigh sweet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the light that hangs and broods on the woodlands here,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Intense, invasive, intolerant, imperious, and meet<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To lighten the works of thine hands and the ways of thy feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is hot with the fire of the breath of thy life, and dear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As hope that shrivels or shrinks not for frost or heat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thee, thee the supreme dim godhead, approved afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Perceived of the soul and conceived of the sense of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We scarce dare love, and we dare not fear: the star<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We call the sun, that lit us when life began<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To brood on the world that is thine by his grace for a span,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conceals and reveals in the semblance of things that are<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thine immanent presence, the pulse of thy heart's life, Pan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fierce mid noon that wakens and warms the snake<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Conceals thy mercy, reveals thy wrath: and again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dew-bright hour that assuages the twilight brake<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Conceals thy wrath and reveals thy mercy: then<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou art fearful only for evil souls of men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That feel with nightfall the serpent within them wake,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And hate the holy darkness on glade and glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span><span class="i0">Yea, then we know not and dream not if ill things be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or if aught of the work of the wrong of the world be thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We hear not the footfall of terror that treads the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We hear not the moan of winds that assail the pine:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We see not if shipwreck reign in the storm's dim shrine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If death do service and doom bear witness to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We see not,—know not if blood for thy lips be wine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But in all things evil and fearful that fear may scan,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As in all things good, as in all things fair that fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We know thee present and latent, the lord of man;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the murmuring of doves, in the clamouring of winds that call<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And wolves that howl for their prey; in the midnight's pall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the naked and nymph-like feet of the dawn, O Pan,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And in each life living, O thou the God who art all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Smiling and singing, wailing and wringing of hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Laughing and weeping, watching and sleeping, still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proclaim but and prove but thee, as the shifted sands<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Speak forth and show but the strength of the sea's wild will<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That sifts and grinds them as grain in the storm-wind's mill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thee is the doom that falls and the doom that stands:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The tempests utter thy word, and the stars fulfil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span><span class="i0">Where Etna shudders with passion and pain volcanic<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That rend her heart as with anguish that rends a man's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Typho labours, and finds not his thews Titanic,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In breathless torment that ever the flame's breath fans,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Men felt and feared thee of old, whose pastoral clans<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were given to the charge of thy keeping; and soundless panic<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Held fast the woodland whose depths and whose heights were Pan's.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And here, though fear be less than delight, and awe<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Be one with desire and with worship of earth and thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So mild seems now thy secret and speechless law,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So fair and fearless and faithful and godlike she,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So soft the spell of thy whisper on stream and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet man should fear lest he see what of old men saw<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And withered: yet shall I quail if thy breath smite me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lord God of life and of light and of all things fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lord God of ravin and ruin and all things dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death seals up life, and darkness the sunbright air,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the stars that watch blind earth in the deep night swim<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Laugh, saying, "What God is your God, that ye call on him?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is man, that the God who is guide of our way should care<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If day for a man be golden, or night be grim?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span><span class="i0">But thou, dost thou hear? Stars too but abide for a span,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Gods too but endure for a season; but thou, if thou be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God, more than shadows conceived and adored of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Kind Gods and fierce, that bound him or made him free,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The skies that scorn us are less in thy sight than we,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose souls have strength to conceive and perceive thee, Pan,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With sense more subtle than senses that hear and see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet may not it say, though it seek thee and think to find<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One soul of sense in the fire and the frost-bound clod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What heart is this, what spirit alive or blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That moves thee: only we know that the ways we trod<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We tread, with hands unguided, with feet unshod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eyes unlightened; and yet, if with steadfast mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Perchance may we find thee and know thee at last for God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet then should God be dark as the dawn is bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And bright as the night is dark on the world—no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light slays not darkness, and darkness absorbs not light;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the labour of evil and good from the years of yore<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span><span class="i1">Is even as the labour of waves on a sunless shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he who is first and last, who is depth and height,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Keeps silence now, as the sun when the woods wax hoar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dark dumb godhead innate in the fair world's life<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Imbues the rapture of dawn and of noon with dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Infects the peace of the star-shod night with strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Informs with terror the sorrow that guards the dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No service of bended knee or of humbled head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May soothe or subdue the God who has change to wife:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And life with death is as morning with evening wed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet, if the light and the life in the light that here<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seem soft and splendid and fervid as sleep may seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be more than the shine of a smile or the flash of a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sleep, change, and death are less than a spell-struck dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And fear than the fall of a leaf on a starlit stream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, if the hope that hath said it absorb not fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What helps it man that the stars and the waters gleam?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What helps it man, that the noon be indeed intense,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The night be indeed worth worship? Fear and pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were lords and masters yet of the secret sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which now dares deem not that light is as darkness, fain<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though dark dreams be to declare it, crying in vain.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span><span class="i0">For whence, thou God of the light and the darkness, whence<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dawns now this vision that bids not the sunbeams wane?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What light, what shadow, diviner than dawn or night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Draws near, makes pause, and again—or I dream—draws near?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More soft than shadow, more strong than the strong sun's light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">More pure than moonbeams—yea, but the rays run sheer<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As fire from the sun through the dusk of the pinewood, clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And constant; yea, but the shadow itself is bright<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That the light clothes round with love that is one with fear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Above and behind it the noon and the woodland lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Terrible, radiant with mystery, superb and subdued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Triumphant in silence; and hardly the sacred sky<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seems free from the tyrannous weight of the dumb fierce mood<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which rules as with fire and invasion of beams that brood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breathless rapture of earth till its hour pass by<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And leave her spirit released and her peace renewed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I sleep not: never in sleep has a man beholden<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This. From the shadow that trembles and yearns with light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suppressed and elate and reluctant—obscure and golden<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span><span class="i1">As water kindled with presage of dawn or night—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A form, a face, a wonder to sense and sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grows great as the moon through the month; and her eyes embolden<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fear, till it change to desire, and desire to delight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I sleep not: sleep would die of a dream so strange;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A dream so sweet would die as a rainbow dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a sunbow laughs and is lost on the waves that range<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And reck not of light that flickers or spray that flies.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But the sun withdraws not, the woodland shrinks not or sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sweet thing sickens with sense or with fear of change;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Light wounds not, darkness blinds not, my steadfast eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Only the soul in my sense that receives the soul<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whence now my spirit is kindled with breathless bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knows well if the light that wounds it with love makes whole,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If hopes that carol be louder than fears that hiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If truth be spoken of flowers and of waves that kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of clouds and stars that contend for a sunbright goal.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And yet may I dream that I dream not indeed of this?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An earth-born dreamer, constrained by the bonds of birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Held fast by the flesh, compelled by his veins that beat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kindle to rapture or wrath, to desire or to mirth,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span><span class="i1">May hear not surely the fall of immortal feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May feel not surely if heaven upon earth be sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here is my sense fulfilled of the joys of earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Light, silence, bloom, shade, murmur of leaves that meet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bloom, fervour, and perfume of grasses and flowers aglow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Breathe and brighten about me: the darkness gleams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet light shivers and laughs on the slopes below,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Made soft by leaves that lighten and change like dreams;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The silence thrills with the whisper of secret streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That well from the heart of the woodland: these I know:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Earth bore them, heaven sustained them with showers and beams.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I lean my face to the heather, and drink the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose flame-lit odour satiates the flowers: mine eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close, and the goal of delight and of life is one:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No more I crave of earth or her kindred skies.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No more? But the joy that springs from them smiles and flies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet work wrought of them surely, the good work done,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If the mind and the face of the season be loveless, dies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thee, therefore, thee would I come to, cleave to, cling,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If haply thy heart be kind and thy gifts be good,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span><span class="i0">Unknown sweet spirit, whose vesture is soft in spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In summer splendid, in autumn pale as the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That shudders and wanes and shrinks as a shamed thing should,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In winter bright as the mail of a war-worn king<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who stands where foes fled far from the face of him stood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My spirit or thine is it, breath of thy life or of mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which fills my sense with a rapture that casts out fear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pan's dim frown wanes, and his wild eyes brighten as thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Transformed as night or as day by the kindling year.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Earth-born, or mine eye were withered that sees, mine ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hears were stricken to death by the sense divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Earth-born I know thee: but heaven is about me here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The terror that whispers in darkness and flames in light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The doubt that speaks in the silence of earth and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sense, more fearful at noon than in midmost night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of wrath scarce hushed and of imminent ill to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where are they? Heaven is as earth, and as heaven to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth: for the shadows that sundered them here take flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And nought is all, as am I, but a dream of thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> +<h2>ON THE SOUTH COAST</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">To Theodore Watts</span></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hills and valleys where April rallies his radiant squadron of flowers and birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steep strange beaches and lustrous reaches of fluctuant sea that the land engirds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fields and downs that the sunrise crowns with life diviner than lives in words,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Day by day of resurgent May salute the sun with sublime acclaim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Change and brighten with hours that lighten and darken, girdled with cloud or flame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth's fair face in alternate grace beams, blooms, and lowers, and is yet the same.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Twice each day the divine sea's play makes glad with glory that comes and goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Field and street that her waves keep sweet, when past the bounds of their old repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fast and fierce in renewed reverse, the foam-flecked estuary ebbs and flows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span><span class="i0">Broad and bold through the stays of old staked fast with trunks of the wildwood tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up from shoreward, impelled far forward, by marsh and meadow, by lawn and lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inland still at her own wild will swells, rolls, and revels the surging sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strong as time, and as faith sublime,—clothed round with shadows of hopes and fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nights and morrows, and joys and sorrows, alive with passion of prayers and tears,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands the shrine that has seen decline eight hundred waxing and waning years.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tower set square to the storms of air and change of season that glooms and glows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wall and roof of it tempest-proof, and equal ever to suns and snows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright with riches of radiant niches and pillars smooth as a straight stem grows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aisle and nave that the whelming wave of time has whelmed not or touched or neared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arch and vault without stain or fault, by hands of craftsmen we know not reared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time beheld them, and time was quelled; and change passed by them as one that feared.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Time that flies as a dream, and dies as dreams that die with the sleep they feed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here alone in a garb of stone incarnate stands as a god indeed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stern and fair, and of strength to bear all burdens mortal to man's frail seed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span><span class="i0">Men and years are as leaves or tears that storm or sorrow is fain to shed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These go by as the winds that sigh, and none takes note of them quick or dead:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time, whose breath is their birth and death, folds here his pinions, and bows his head.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still the sun that beheld begun the work wrought here of unwearied hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sees, as then, though the Red King's men held ruthless rule over lawless lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand their massive design, impassive, pure and proud as a virgin stands.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Statelier still as the years fulfil their count, subserving her sacred state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grows the hoary grey church whose story silence utters and age makes great:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Statelier seems it than shines in dreams the face unveiled of unvanquished fate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fate, more high than the star-shown sky, more deep than waters unsounded, shines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keen and far as the final star on souls that seek not for charms or signs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet more bright is the love-shown light of men's hands lighted in songs or shrines.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love and trust that the grave's deep dust can soil not, neither may fear put out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witness yet that their record set stands fast, though years be as hosts in rout,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spent and slain; but the signs remain that beat back darkness and cast forth doubt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span><span class="i0">Men that wrought by the grace of thought and toil things goodlier than praise dare trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair as all that the world may call most fair, save only the sea's own face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shrines or songs that the world's change wrongs not, live by grace of their own gift's grace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dead, their names that the night reclaims—alive, their works that the day relumes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sink and stand, as in stone and sand engraven: none may behold their tombs:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nights and days shall record their praise while here this flower of their grafting blooms.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Flower more fair than the sun-thrilled air bids laugh and lighten and wax and rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fruit more bright than the fervent light sustains with strength from the kindled skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flower and fruit that the deathless root of man's love rears though the man's name dies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stately stands it, the work of hands unknown of: statelier, afar and near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise around it the heights that bound our landward gaze from the seaboard here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Downs that swerve and aspire, in curve and change of heights that the dawn holds dear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dawn falls fair on the grey walls there confronting dawn, on the low green lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lone and sweet as for fairies' feet held sacred, silent and strange and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild and wet with its rills; but yet more fair falls dawn on the fairer sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span><span class="i0">Eastward, round by the high green bound of hills that fold the remote fields in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strive and shine on the low sea-line fleet waves and beams when the days begin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Westward glow, when the days burn low, the sun that yields and the stars that win.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rose-red eve on the seas that heave sinks fair as dawn when the first ray peers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winds are glancing from sunbright Lancing to Shoreham, crowned with the grace of years;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shoreham, clad with the sunset, glad and grave with glory that death reveres.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Death, more proud than the kings' heads bowed before him, stronger than all things, bows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here his head: as if death were dead, and kingship plucked from his crownless brows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life hath here such a face of cheer as change appals not and time avows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Skies fulfilled with the sundown, stilled and splendid, spread as a flower that spreads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pave with rarer device and fairer than heaven's the luminous oyster-beds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grass-embanked, and in square plots ranked, inlaid with gems that the sundown sheds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Squares more bright and with lovelier light than heaven that kindled it shines with shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm and soft as the dome aloft, but heavenlier yet than the sun's own shrine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven is high, but the water-sky lit here seems deeper and more divine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span><span class="i0">Flowers on flowers, that the whole world's bowers may show not, here may the sunset show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lightly graven in the waters paven with ghostly gold by the clouds aglow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright as love is the vault above, but lovelier lightens the wave below.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rosy grey, or as fiery spray full-plumed, or greener than emerald, gleams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plot by plot as the skies allot for each its glory, divine as dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lit with fire of appeased desire which sounds the secret of all that seems;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dreams that show what we fain would know, and know not save by the grace of sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep whose hands have removed the bands that eyes long waking and fain to weep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feel fast bound on them—light around them strange, and darkness above them steep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet no vision that heals division of love from love, and renews awhile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life and breath in the lips where death has quenched the spirit of speech and smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shows on earth, or in heaven's mid mirth, where no fears enter or doubts defile,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aught more fair than the radiant air and water here by the twilight wed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here made one by the waning sun whose last love quickens to rosebright red<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half the crown of the soft high down that rears to northward its wood-girt head.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span><span class="i0">There, when day is at height of sway, men's eyes who stand, as we oft have stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High where towers with its world of flowers the golden spinny that flanks the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See before and around them shore and seaboard glad as their gifts are good.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Higher and higher to the north aspire the green smooth-swelling unending downs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">East and west on the brave earth's breast glow girdle-jewels of gleaming towns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Southward shining, the lands declining subside in peace that the sea's light crowns.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Westward wide in its fruitful pride the plain lies lordly with plenteous grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair as dawn's when the fields and lawns desire her glitters the glad land's face:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eastward yet is the sole sign set of elder days and a lordlier race.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down beneath us afar, where seethe in wilder weather the tides aflow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurled up hither and drawn down thither in quest of rest that they may not know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still as dew on a flower the blue broad stream now sleeps in the fields below.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mild and bland in the fair green land it smiles, and takes to its heart the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce the meads and the fens, the reeds and grasses, still as they stand or lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wear the palm of a statelier calm than rests on waters that pass them by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span><span class="i0">Yet shall these, when the winds and seas of equal days and coequal nights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rage, rejoice, and uplift a voice whose sound is even as a sword that smites,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Felt and heard as a doomsman's word from seaward reaches to landward heights,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lift their heart up, and take their part of triumph, swollen and strong with rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rage elate with desire and great with pride that tempest and storm assuage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So their chime in the ear of time has rung from age to rekindled age.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair and dear is the land's face here, and fair man's work as a man's may be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear and fair as the sunbright air is here the record that speaks him free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free by birth of a sacred earth, and regent ever of all the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> +<h2>AN AUTUMN VISION</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">October</span> 31, 1889</h3> + +<h4><ins class="greekcorr" title="Zephyrou gigantos aura">Ζεφύρου γίγαντος αὔρᾳ</ins></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is it Midsummer here in the heavens that illumine October on earth?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can the year, when his heart is fulfilled with desire of the days of his mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Redeem them, recall, or remember?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a memory recalling the rapture of earth, and redeeming the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines down from the heights to the depths: will the watchword of dawn be July<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When to-morrow acclaims November?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stern salutation of sorrow to death or repentance to shame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was all that the season was wont to accord her of grace or acclaim;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No lightnings of love and of laughter.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But here, in the laugh of the loud west wind from around and above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the flash of the waters beneath him, what sound or what light but of love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rings round him or leaps forth after?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span><span class="i11">II</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wind beloved of earth and sky and sea beyond all winds that blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wind whose might in fight was England's on her mightiest warrior day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">South-west wind, whose breath for her was life, and fire to scourge her foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Steel to smite and death to drive him down an unreturning way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well-beloved and welcome, sounding all the clarions of the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rolling all the marshalled waters toward the charge that storms the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We receive, acclaim, salute thee, we who live and dream and die,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As the mightiest mouth of song that ever spake acclaimed of yore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We that live as they that perish praise thee, lord of cloud and wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wind of winds, clothed on with darkness whence as lightning light comes forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We that know thee strong to guard and smite, to scatter and to save,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We to whom the south-west wind is dear as Athens held the north.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He for her waged war as thou for us against all powers defiant,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fleets full-fraught with storm from Persia, laden deep with death from Spain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee the giant god of song and battle hailed as god and giant,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet not his but ours the land is whence thy praise should ring and rain;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span><span class="i0">Rain as rapture shed from song, and ring as trumpets blown for battle,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sound and sing before thee, loud and glad as leaps and sinks the sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, the sea's white steeds are curbed and spurred of thee, and pent as cattle,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet they laugh with love and pride to live, subdued not save of thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ears that hear thee hear in heaven the sound of widening wings gigantic,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Eyes that see the cloud-lift westward see thy darkening brows divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wings whose measure is the limit of the limitless Atlantic,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Brows that bend, and bid the sovereign sea submit her soul to thine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">III<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Twelve days since is it—twelve days gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord of storm, that a storm-bow shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Higher than sweeps thy sublime dark wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair as dawn is and sweet like spring?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never dawn in the deep wide east<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spread so splendid and strange a feast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence the soul as it drank and fed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Felt such rapture of wonder shed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never spring in the wild wood's heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Felt such flowers at her footfall start,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Born of earth, as arose on sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Born of heaven and of storm and light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span><span class="i0">Stern and sullen, the grey grim sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swelled and strove as in toils, though free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free as heaven, and as heaven sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clear as heaven of the toils of time.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">IV<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Suddenly, sheer from the heights to the depths of the sky and the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprang from the darkness alive as a vision of life to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glory triune and transcendent of colour afar and afire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arching and darkening the darkness with light as of dream or desire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven, in the depth of its height, shone wistful and wan from above:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth from beneath, and the sea, shone stricken and breathless with love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a shadow may shine, so shone they; as ghosts of the viewless blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sleep hath sight of alive in a rapture of sunbright rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The green earth glowed and the grey sky gleamed for a wondrous while;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the storm's full frown was crossed by the light of its own deep smile.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the darkness of thought and of passion is touched by the light that gives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life deathless as love from the depth of a spirit that sees and lives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the soul of a seer and a singer, wherein as a scroll unfurled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lies open the scripture of light and of darkness, the word of the world,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span><span class="i0">So, shapeless and measureless, lurid as anguish and haggard as crime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale as the front of oblivion and dark as the heart of time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild wan heaven at its height was assailed and subdued and made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More fair than the skies that know not of storm and endure not shade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grim sea-swell, grey, sleepless, and sad as a soul estranged,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone, smiled, took heart, and was glad of its wrath: and the world's face changed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">V<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up from moorlands northward gleaming<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Even to heaven's transcendent height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clothed with massive cloud, and seeming<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All one fortress reared of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down to where the deep sea, dreaming<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Angry dreams, lay dark and white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White as death and dark as fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaving with the strong wind's weight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad with stormy pride of state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One full rainbow shone elate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up from inmost memory's dwelling<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where the light of life abides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the past finds tongue, foretelling<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Time that comes and grace that guides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Power that saves and sways, compelling<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Souls that ebb and flow like tides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone or seemed to shine and swim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the cloud-surf great and grim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought's live surge, the soul of him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By whose light the sun looks dim.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span><span class="i0">In what synod were they sitting,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the gods and lords of time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence they watched as fen-fires flitting<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Years and names of men sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When their counsels found it fitting<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One should stand where none might climb—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None of man begotten, none<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Born of men beneath the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the race of time be run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save this heaven-enfranchised one?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With what rapture of creation<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Was the soul supernal thrilled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what pride of adoration<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Was the world's heart fired and filled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaved in heavenward exaltation<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Higher than hopes or dreams might build,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grave with awe not known while he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was not, mad with glorious glee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the sun-saluted sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When his hour bade Shakespeare be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">VI<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, clear as night beholds her crowning seven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea beheld his likeness set in heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadow of his spirit full in sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone: for the shadow of that soul is light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor heaven alone bore witness: earth avowed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Him present, and acclaimed of storm aloud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the arching sky to the ageless hills and sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The whole world, visible, audible, was he:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each part of all that wove that wondrous whole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The raiment of the presence of his soul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun that smote and kissed the dark to death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spake, smiled, and strove, like song's triumphant breath;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span><span class="i0">The soundless cloud whose thunderous heart was dumb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swelled, lowered, and shrank to feel its conqueror come.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet high from heaven its empire vast and vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frowned, and renounced not night's reluctant reign.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The serpentine swift sounds and shapes wherein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stainless sea mocks earth and death and sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crawls dark as craft, or flashes keen as hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subdued and insubmissive, strong like fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And weak like man, bore wrathful witness yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That storms and sins are more than suns that set;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That evil everlasting, girt for strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal, wars with hope as death with life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dark sharp shifting wind that bade the waves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falter, lose heart, bow down like foes made slaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And waxed within more bitter as they bowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baffling the sea, swallowing the sun with cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devouring fast as fire on earth devours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hungering hard as frost that feeds on flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clothed round with fog that reeked as fume from hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And darkening with its miscreative spell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light, glad and keen and splendid as the sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose heft had known Othello's hand its lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spake all the soul that hell drew back to greet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And felt its fire shrink shuddering from his feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far off the darkness darkened, and recoiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And neared again, and triumphed: and the coiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Colourless cloud and sea discoloured grew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conscious of horror huge as heaven, and knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Goneril's soul made chill and foul the mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the leprous life in Regan hissed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fierce homeless ghosts, rejected of the pit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From hell to hell of storm fear watched them flit.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span><span class="i0">About them and before, the dull grey gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shuddered, and heaven seemed hateful as the tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shrinks from resurrection; and from out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sullen hell which girt their shades about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nether soul that lurks and lowers within<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man, made of dust and fire and shame and sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathed: all the cloud that felt it breathe and blight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was blue as plague or black as thunderous night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elect of hell, the children of his hate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thronged, as to storm sweet heaven's triumphal gate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The terror of his giving rose and shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Imminent: life had put its likeness on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But higher than all its horrent height of shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone sovereign, seen by light itself had made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the woes of all the world, above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life, sin, and death, his myriad-minded love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From landward heights whereon the radiance leant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full-fraught from heaven, intense and imminent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To depths wherein the seething strengths of cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce matched the wrath of waves whereon they bowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From homeborn pride and kindling love of home<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the outer skies and seas of fire and foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From splendour soft as dew that sundawn thrills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gloom that shudders round the world it fills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From midnights murmuring round Titania's ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To midnights maddening round the rage of Lear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wonder woven of storm and sun became<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One with the light that lightens from his name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The music moving on the sea that felt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm-wind even as snows of springtide melt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was blithe as Ariel's hand or voice might make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid all grief die gladly for its sake.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span><span class="i0">And there the soul alive in ear and eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That watched the wonders of an hour pass by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw brighter than all stars that heaven inspheres<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silent splendour of Cordelia's tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Felt in the whispers of the quickening wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The radiance of the laugh of Rosalind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heard, in sounds that melt the souls of men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With love of love, the tune of Imogen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i13">VII<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For the strong north-east is not strong to subdue and to slay the divine south-west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the darkness is less than the light that it darkens, and dies in reluctant rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It hovers and hangs on the labouring and trembling ascent of the dawn from the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the sun's eye quicken the world and the waters, and smite it again into sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night, holy and starry, the fostress of souls, with the fragrance of heaven in her breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subdues with the sense of her godhead the forces and mysteries of sorrow and death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal as dawn's is the comfort she gives: but the mist that beleaguers and slays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes, passes, and is not: the strength of it withers, appalled or assuaged by the day's.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faith, haggard as Fear that had borne her, and dark as the sire that begat her, Despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Held rule on the soul of the world and the song of it saddening through ages that were;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dim centuries that darkened and brightened and darkened again, and the soul of their song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was great as their grief, and sublime as their suffering, and strong as their sorrows were strong.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span><span class="i0">It knew not, it saw not, but shadows triune, and evoked by the strength of their spell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark hell, and the mountain of anguish, and heaven that was hollower and harder than hell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are not: the womb of the darkness that bare them rejects them, and knows them no more:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought, fettered in misery and iron, revives in the light that it lived in of yore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the soul that is wisdom and freedom, the spirit of England redeemed from her past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speaks life through the lips of the master and lord of her children, the first and the last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought, touched by his hand and redeemed by his breath, sees, hears, and accepts from above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The limitless lightnings of vision and passion, the measureless music of love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> +<h2>A SWIMMER'S DREAM</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">November</span> 4, 1889</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>Somno mollior unda</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dawn is dim on the dark soft water,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Soft and passionate, dark and sweet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's own self was the deep sea's daughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fair and flawless from face to feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hailed of all when the world was golden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loved of lovers whose names beholden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrill men's eyes as with light of olden<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Days more glad than their flight was fleet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So they sang: but for men that love her,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Souls that hear not her word in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth beside her and heaven above her<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seem but shadows that wax and wane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Softer than sleep's are the sea's caresses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kinder than love's that betrays and blesses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blither than spring's when her flowerful tresses<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shake forth sunlight and shine with rain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span><span class="i0">All the strength of the waves that perish<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Swells beneath me and laughs and sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sighs for love of the life they cherish,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Laughs to know that it lives and dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dies for joy of its life, and lives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrilled with joy that its brief death gives—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death whose laugh or whose breath forgives<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Change that bids it subside and rise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hard and heavy, remote but nearing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sunless hangs the severe sky's weight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cloud on cloud, though the wind be veering<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heaped on high to the sundawn's gate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dawn and even and noon are one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Veiled with vapour and void of sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nought in sight or in fancied hearing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Now less mighty than time or fate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The grey sky gleams and the grey seas glimmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pale and sweet as a dream's delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a dream's where darkness and light seem dimmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Touched by dawn or subdued by night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dark wind, stern and sublime and sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swings the rollers to westward, clad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lustrous shadow that lures the swimmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lures and lulls him with dreams of light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Light, and sleep, and delight, and wonder,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Change, and rest, and a charm of cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill the world of the skies whereunder<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heaves and quivers and pants aloud<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span><span class="i0">All the world of the waters, hoary<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, but clothed with its own live glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mates the lightning and mocks the thunder<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With light more living and word more proud.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i9">III<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far off westward, whither sets the sounding strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Strife more sweet than peace, of shoreless waves whose glee<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Scorns the shore and loves the wind that leaves them free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strange as sleep and pale as death and fair as life,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shifts the moonlight-coloured sunshine on the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Toward the sunset's goal the sunless waters crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fast as autumn days toward winter: yet it seems<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Here that autumn wanes not, here that woods and streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lose not heart and change not likeness, chilled and bowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Warped and wrinkled: here the days are fair as dreams.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">IV<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O russet-robed November,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What ails thee so to smile?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chill August, pale September,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Endured a woful while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fell as falls an ember<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From forth a flameless pile:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But golden-girt November<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bids all she looks on smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span><span class="i0">The lustrous foliage, waning<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As wanes the morning moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here falling, here refraining,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Outbraves the pride of June<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With statelier semblance, feigning<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No fear lest death be soon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though the woods thus waning<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Should wax to meet the moon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As though, when fields lie stricken<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By grey December's breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These lordlier growths that sicken<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And die for fear of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should feel the sense requicken<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That hears what springtide saith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thrills for love, spring-stricken<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And pierced with April's breath.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The keen white-winged north-easter<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That stings and spurs thy sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth yet but feed and feast her<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With glowing sense of glee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calm chained her, storm released her,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And storm's glad voice was he:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">South-wester or north-easter,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy winds rejoice the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">V<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A dream, a dream is it all—the season,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sky, the water, the wind, the shore?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A day-born dream of divine unreason,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A marvel moulded of sleep—no more?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span><span class="i0">For the cloudlike wave that my limbs while cleaving<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feel as in slumber beneath them heaving<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soothes the sense as to slumber, leaving<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sense of nought that was known of yore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A purer passion, a lordlier leisure,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A peace more happy than lives on land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fulfils with pulse of diviner pleasure<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The dreaming head and the steering hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lean my cheek to the cold grey pillow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deep soft swell of the full broad billow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And close mine eyes for delight past measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And wish the wheel of the world would stand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wild-winged hour that we fain would capture<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Falls as from heaven that its light feet clomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So brief, so soft, and so full the rapture<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Was felt that soothed me with sense of home.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sleep, to swim, and to dream, for ever—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such joy the vision of man saw never;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For here too soon will a dark day sever<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sea-bird's wing from the sea-wave's foam.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A dream, and more than a dream, and dimmer<br /></span> +<span class="i1">At once and brighter than dreams that flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moment's joy of the seaward swimmer<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Abides, remembered as truth may be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not all the joy and not all the glory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must fade as leaves when the woods wax hoary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there the downs and the sea-banks glimmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And here to south of them swells the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> +<h2>GRACE DARLING</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Take, O star of all our seas, from not an alien hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Homage paid of song bowed down before thy glory's face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou the living light of all our lovely stormy strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou the brave north-country's very glory of glories, Grace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loud and dark about the lighthouse rings and glares the night;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Glares with foam-lit gloom and darkling fire of storm and spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rings with roar of winds in chase and rage of waves in flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Howls and hisses as with mouths of snakes and wolves at bay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce the cliffs of the islets, scarce the walls of Joyous Gard,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Flash to sight between the deadlier lightnings of the sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Storm is lord and master of a midnight evil-starred,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor may sight or fear discern what evil stars may be.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span><span class="i0">Dark as death and white as snow the sea-swell scowls and shines,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heaves and yearns and pants for prey, from ravening lip to lip,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong in rage of rapturous anguish, lines on hurtling lines,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ranks on charging ranks, that break and rend the battling ship.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the night is mad and murderous: who shall front the night?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not the prow that labours, helpless as a storm-blown leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the rocks and waters, darkling depth and beetling height,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rage with wave on shattering wave and thundering reef on reef.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death is fallen upon the prisoners there of darkness, bound<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like as thralls with links of iron fast in bonds of doom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How shall any way to break the bands of death be found,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Any hand avail to pluck them from that raging tomb?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the night is great with child of death: no stars above<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Show them hope in heaven, no lights from shores ward help on earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is there help or hope to seaward, is there help in love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hope in pity, where the ravening hounds of storm make mirth?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the light but shows the naked eyeless face of Death<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span><span class="i1">Nearer, laughing dumb and grim across the loud live storm?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not in human heart or hand or speech of human breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Surely, nor in saviours found of mortal face or form.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet below the light, between the reefs, a skiff shot out<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seems a sea-bird fain to breast and brave the strait fierce pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence the channelled roar of waters driven in raging rout,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pent and pressed and maddened, speaks their monstrous might and mass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thunder heaves and howls about them, lightning leaps and flashes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hard at hand, not high in heaven, but close between the walls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaped and hollowed of the storms of old, whence reels and crashes<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the rage of all the unbaffled wave that breaks and falls.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who shall thwart the madness and the gladness of it, laden<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Full with heavy fate, and joyous as the birds that whirl?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nought in heaven or earth, if not one mortal-moulded maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nought if not the soul that glorifies a northland girl.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the rocks that break may baffle, not the reefs that thwart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Stay the ravenous rapture of the waves that crowd and leap;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span><span class="i0">Scarce their flashing laughter shows the hunger of their heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Scarce their lion-throated roar the wrath at heart they keep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Child and man and woman in the grasp of death clenched fast<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tremble, clothed with darkness round about, and scarce draw breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce lift eyes up toward the light that saves not, scarce may cast<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thought or prayer up, caught and trammelled in the snare of death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not as sea-mews cling and laugh or sun their plumes and sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Cling and cower the wild night's waifs of shipwreck, blind with fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the fierce reef scarce yields foothold that a bird might keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the clamorous darkness deadens eye and deafens ear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet beyond their helpless hearing, out of hopeless sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Saviours, armed and girt upon with strength of heart, fare forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sire and daughter, hand on oar and face against the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Maid and man whose names are beacons ever to the North.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nearer now; but all the madness of the storming surf<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hounds and roars them back; but roars and hounds them back in vain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a pleasure-skiff may graze the lake-embanking turf,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span><span class="i1">So the boat that bears them grates the rock where-toward they strain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dawn as fierce and haggard as the face of night scarce guides<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Toward the cries that rent and clove the darkness, crying for aid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hours on hours, across the engorged reluctance of the tides,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sire and daughter, high-souled man and mightier-hearted maid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the bravest land that ever breasted war's grim sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hurled her foes back harried on the lowlands whence they came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Held her own and smote her smiters down, while such durst be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shining northward, shining southward, as the aurorean flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not our mother, not Northumberland, brought ever forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though no southern shore may match the sons that kiss her mouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Children worthier all the birthright given of the ardent north<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where the fire of hearts outburns the suns that fire the south.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even such fire was this that lit them, not from lowering skies<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where the darkling dawn flagged, stricken in the sun's own shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down the gulf of storm subsiding, till their earnest eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Find the relics of the ravening night that spared but nine.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span><span class="i0">Life by life the man redeems them, head by storm-worn head,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While the girl's hand stays the boat whereof the waves are fain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, but woe for one, the mother clasping fast her dead!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Happier, had the surges slain her with her children slain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back they bear, and bring between them safe the woful nine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where above the ravenous Hawkers fixed at watch for prey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Storm and calm behold the Longstone's towering signal shine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Now as when that labouring night brought forth a shuddering day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now as then, though like the hounds of storm against her snarling<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the clamorous years between us storm down many a fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As our sires beheld before us we behold Grace Darling<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Crowned and throned our queen, and as they hailed we hail her name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, not ours alone, her kinsfolk born, though chiefliest ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">East and west and south acclaim her queen of England's maids,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Star more sweet than all their stars and flower than all their flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Higher in heaven and earth than star that sets or flower that fades.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How should land or sea that nurtured her forget, or love<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span><span class="i1">Hold not fast her fame for us while aught is borne in mind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Land and sea beneath us, sun and moon and stars above,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bear the bright soul witness, seen of all but souls born blind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stars and moon and sun may wax and wane, subside and rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Age on age as flake on flake of showering snows be shed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not till earth be sunless, not till death strike blind the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May the deathless love that waits on deathless deeds be dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Years on years have withered since beside the hearth once thine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I, too young to have seen thee, touched thy father's hallowed hand:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee and him shall all men see for ever, stars that shine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While the sea that spared thee girds and glorifies the land.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> +<h2>LOCH TORRIDON</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">To</span> E. H.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dawn of night more fair than morning rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stars hurrying forth on stars, as snows on snows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haste when the wind and winter bid them speed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vague miles of moorland road behind us lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce traversed ere the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sank, and the sun forsook us at our need,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Belated. Where we thought to have rested, rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was none; for soft Maree's dim quivering breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound round with gracious inland girth of green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fearless of the wild wave-wandering West,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone shelterless for strangers; and unseen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The goal before us lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all our blithe and strange and strenuous day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For when the northering road faced westward—when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dark sharp sudden gorge dropped seaward—then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the stars, between the steeps, the track<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We followed, lighted not of moon or sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And plunging whither none<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span><span class="i0">Might guess, while heaven and earth were hoar and black,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed even the dim still pass whence none turns back:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the twilight leftward of the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down the dark, with many a laugh and leap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light blithe hill-streams shone from scaur to steep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In glittering pride of play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever while the night grew great and deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We felt but saw not what the hills would keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sacred awhile from sense of moon or star;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And full and far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath us, sweet and strange as heaven may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The very sea: no mountain-moulded lake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose fluctuant shapeliness is fain to take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shape from the steadfast shore that rules it round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And only from the storms a casual sound:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea, that harbours in her heart sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The supreme heart of music deep as time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in her spirit strong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit of all imaginable song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not a whisper or lisp from the waters: the skies were not silenter. Peace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was between them; a passionless rapture of respite as soft as release.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a sound, but a sense that possessed and pervaded with patient delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soul and the body, clothed round with the comfort of limitless night.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span><span class="i0">Night infinite, living, adorable, loved of the land and the sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night, mother of mercies, who saith to the spirits in prison, Be free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And softer than dewfall, and kindlier than starlight, and keener than wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came round us the fragrance of waters, the life of the breath of the brine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We saw not, we heard not, the face or the voice of the waters: we knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the darkling delight of the wind as the sense of the sea in it grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the pulse of the darkness about us enkindled and quickened, that here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unseen and unheard of us, surely the goal we had faith in was near.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A silence diviner than music, a darkness diviner than light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fulfilled as from heaven with a measureless comfort the measure of night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But never a roof for shelter<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And never a sign for guide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rose doubtful or visible: only<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And hardly and gladly we heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soft waves whisper and welter,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Subdued, and allured to subside,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the mild night's magic: the lonely<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Sweet silence was soothed, not stirred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the noiseless noise of the gleaming<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Glad ripples, that played and sighed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kissed, laughed, recoiled, and relented,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Whispered, flickered, and fled.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span><span class="i0">No season was this for dreaming<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How oft, with a stormier tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had the wrath of the winds been vented<br /></span> +<span class="i3">On sons of the tribes long dead:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tribes whom time, and the changes<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of things, and the stress of doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have erased and effaced; forgotten<br /></span> +<span class="i3">As wrecks or weeds of the shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sight of the stern hill-ranges<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That hardly may change their gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the fruits of the years wax rotten<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And the seed of them springs no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the dim strait footway dividing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The waters that breathed below<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Led safe to the kindliest of shelters<br /></span> +<span class="i3">That ever awoke into light:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still in remembrance abiding<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Broods over the stars that glow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the water that eddies and welters<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The passionate peace of the night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All night long, in the world of sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Skies and waters were soft and deep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shadow clothed them, and silence made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soundless music of dream and shade:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All above us, the livelong night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shadow, kindled with sense of light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All around us, the brief night long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silence, laden with sense of song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stars and mountains without, we knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watched and waited, the soft night through:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All unseen, but divined and dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrilled the touch of the sea's breath near:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span><span class="i0">All unheard, but alive like sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throbbed the sense of the sea's life round:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round us, near us, in depth and height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft as darkness and keen as light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the dawn leapt in at my casement: and there, as I rose, at my feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No waves of the landlocked waters, no lake submissive and sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft slave of the lordly seasons, whose breath may loose it or freeze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to left and to right and ahead was the ripple whose pulse is the sea's.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the gorge we had travelled by starlight the sunrise, winged and aflame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone large on the live wide wavelets that shuddered with joy as it came;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it came and caressed and possessed them, till panting and laughing with light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From mountain to mountain the water was kindled and stung to delight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the grey gaunt heights that embraced and constrained and compelled it were glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the rampart of rock, stark naked, that thwarted and barred it, was clad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a stern grey splendour of sunrise: and scarce had I sprung to the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the dawn and the water were wedded, the hills and the sky set free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chain of the night was broken: the waves that embraced me and smiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flickered and fawned in the sunlight, alive, unafraid, undefiled,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span><span class="i0">Were sweeter to swim in than air, though fulfilled with the mounting morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could be for the birds whose triumph rejoiced that a day was born.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And a day was arisen indeed for us. Years and the changes of years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clothed round with their joys and their sorrows, and dead as their hopes and their fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie noteless and nameless, unlit by remembrance or record of days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worth wonder or memory, or cursing or blessing, or passion or praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between us who live and forget not, but yearn with delight in it yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the day we forget not, and never may live and may think to forget.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the years that were kindlier and fairer, and kindled with pleasures as keen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have eclipsed not with lights or with shadows the light on the face of it seen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For softly and surely, as nearer the boat that we gazed from drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The face of the precipice opened and bade us as birds pass through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bark shot sheer to the sea through the strait of the sharp steep cleft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The portal that opens with imminent rampires to right and to left,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sublime as the sky they darken and strange as a spell-struck dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the world unconfined of the mountains, the reign of the sea supreme,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span><span class="i0">The kingdom of westward waters, wherein when we swam we knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waves that we clove were boundless, the wind on our brows that blew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had swept no land and no lake, and had warred not on tower or on tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But came on us hard out of heaven, and alive with the soul of the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE PALACE OF PAN</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Inscribed to my Mother</span></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">September, all glorious with gold, as a king<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the radiance of triumph attired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outlightening the summer, outsweetening the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broods wide on the woodlands with limitless wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A presence of all men desired.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far eastward and westward the sun-coloured lands<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Smile warm as the light on them smiles;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And statelier than temples upbuilded with hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tall column by column, the sanctuary stands<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of the pine-forest's infinite aisles.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mute worship, too fervent for praise or for prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Possesses the spirit with peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fulfilled with the breath of the luminous air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fragrance, the silence, the shadows as fair<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As the rays that recede or increase.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ridged pillars that redden aloft and aloof,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With never a branch for a nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sustain the sublime indivisible roof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the storm and the sun in his majesty proof,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And awful as waters at rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span><span class="i0">Man's hand hath not measured the height of them; thought<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May measure not, awe may not know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its shadow the woofs of the woodland are wrought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a bird is the sun in the toils of them caught,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the flakes of it scattered as snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As the shreds of a plumage of gold on the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sun-flakes by multitudes lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shed loose as the petals of roses discrowned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the floors of the forest engilt and embrowned<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And reddened afar and anigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dim centuries with darkling inscrutable hands<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Have reared and secluded the shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For gods that we know not, and kindled as brands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the altar the years that are dust, and their sands<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Time's glass has forgotten for sign.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A temple whose transepts are measured by miles,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose chancel has morning for priest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose floor-work the foot of no spoiler defiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose musical silence no music beguiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No festivals limit its feast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The noon's ministration, the night's and the dawn's,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Conceals not, reveals not for man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the slopes of the herbless and blossomless lawns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some track of a nymph's or some trail of a faun's<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To the place of the slumber of Pan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thought, kindled and quickened by worship and wonder<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To rapture too sacred for fear<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span><span class="i0">On the ways that unite or divide them in sunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone may discern if about them or under<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Be token or trace of him here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With passionate awe that is deeper than panic<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The spirit subdued and unshaken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Takes heed of the godhead terrene and Titanic<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose footfall is felt on the breach of volcanic<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sharp steeps that their fire has forsaken.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By a spell more serene than the dim necromantic<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dead charms of the past and the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the terror that lurked in the noon to make frantic<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Etna takes shape from the limbs of gigantic<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dead gods disanointed of might,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spirit made one with the spirit whose breath<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Makes noon in the woodland sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abides as entranced in a presence that saith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Things loftier than life and serener than death,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Triumphant and silent as time.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pine Ridge:</span> <i>September 1893</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> +<h2>A YEAR'S CAROLS</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">JANUARY<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hail, January, that bearest here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On snowbright breasts the babe-faced year<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That weeps and trembles to be born.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hail, maid and mother, strong and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hooded and cloaked and shod with white,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose eyes are stars that match the morn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy forehead braves the storm's bent bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy feet enkindle stars of snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">FEBRUARY<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wan February with weeping cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose cold hand guides the youngling year<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Down misty roads of mire and rime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before thy pale and fitful face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shrill wind shifts the clouds apace<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through skies the morning scarce may climb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine eyes are thick with heavy tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lit with hopes that light the year's.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span><span class="i5">MARCH<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hail, happy March, whose foot on earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rings as the blast of martial mirth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When trumpets fire men's hearts for fray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No race of wild things winged or finned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May match the might that wings thy wind<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through air and sea, through scud and spray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong joy and thou were powers twin-born<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tempest and the towering morn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">APRIL<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Crowned April, king whose kiss bade earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring forth to time her lordliest birth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When Shakespeare from thy lips drew breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And laughed to hold in one soft hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spell that bade the world's wheel stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And power on life, and power on death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With quiring suns and sunbright showers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praise him, the flower of all thy flowers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">MAY<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hail, May, whose bark puts forth full-sailed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For summer; May, whom Chaucer hailed<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With all his happy might of heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gave thy rosebright daisy-tips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strange fragrance from his amorous lips<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That still thine own breath seems to part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweeten till each word they say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is even a flower of flowering May.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span><span class="i5">JUNE<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strong June, superb, serene, elate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With conscience of thy sovereign state<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Untouched of thunder, though the storm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scathe here and there thy shuddering skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid its lightning cross thine eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With fire, thy golden hours inform<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth and the souls of men with life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That brings forth peace from shining strife.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">JULY<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hail, proud July, whose fervent mouth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bids even be morn and north be south<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By grace and gospel of thy word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence all the splendour of the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lies breathless with delight in thee<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And marvel at the music heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the ardent silent lips of noon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And midnight's rapturous plenilune.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">AUGUST<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great August, lord of golden lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose lordly joy through seas and strands<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And all the red-ripe heart of earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strikes passion deep as life, and stills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The folded vales and folding hills<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With gladness too divine for mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gracious glories of thine eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make night a noon where darkness dies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span><span class="i5">SEPTEMBER<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hail, kind September, friend whose grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Renews the bland year's bounteous face<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With largess given of corn and wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through many a land that laughs with love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thee and all the heaven above,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">More fruitful found than all save thine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose skies fulfil with strenuous cheer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fervent fields that knew thee near.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">OCTOBER<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">October of the tawny crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose heavy-laden hands drop down<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Blessing, the bounties of thy breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mildness of thy mellowing might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill earth and heaven with love and light<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Too sweet for fear to dream of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or memory, while thy joy lives yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To know what joy would fain forget.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">NOVEMBER<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hail, soft November, though thy pale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad smile rebuke the words that hail<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy sorrow with no sorrowing words<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or gratulate thy grief with song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less bitter than the winds that wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy withering woodlands, where the birds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep hardly heart to sing or see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How fair thy faint wan face may be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span><span class="i5">DECEMBER<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">December, thou whose hallowing hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On shuddering seas and hardening lands<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Set as a sacramental sign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seal of Christmas felt on earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As witness toward a new year's birth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose promise makes thy death divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crowning joy that comes of thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes glad all grief on land or sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> +<h2>ENGLAND: AN ODE</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sea and strand, and a lordlier land than sea-tides rolling and rising sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clasp and lighten in climes that brighten with day when day that was here is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call aloud on their children, proud with trust that future and past are one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far and near from the swan's nest here the storm-birds bred of her fair white breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sons whose home was the sea-wave's foam, have borne the fame of her east and west;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">North and south has the storm-wind's mouth rung praise of England and England's quest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fame, wherever her flag flew, never forbore to fly with an equal wing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">France and Spain with their warrior train bowed down before her as thrall to king;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">India knelt at her feet, and felt her sway more fruitful of life than spring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Darkness round them as iron bound fell off from races of elder name,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span><span class="i0">Slain at sight of her eyes, whose light bids freedom lighten and burn as flame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night endures not the touch that cures of kingship tyrants, and slaves of shame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All the terror of time, where error and fear were lords of a world of slaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Age on age in resurgent rage and anguish darkening as waves on waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell or fled from a face that shed such grace as quickens the dust of graves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Things of night at her glance took flight: the strengths of darkness recoiled and sank:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sank the fires of the murderous pyres whereon wild agony writhed and shrank:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose the light of the reign of right from gulfs of years that the darkness drank.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet the might of her wings in flight, whence glory lightens and music rings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loud and bright as the dawn's, shall smite and still the discord of evil things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet not slain by her radiant reign, but darkened now by her sail-stretched wings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Music made of change and conquest, glory born of evil slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stilled the discord, slew the darkness, bade the lights of tempest wane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the deathless dawn of England rose in sign that right should reign.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span><span class="i0">Mercy, where the tiger wallowed mad and blind with blood and lust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Justice, where the jackal yelped and fed, and slaves allowed it just,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose as England's light on Asia rose, and smote them down to dust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Justice bright as mercy, mercy girt by justice with her sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smote and saved and raised and ruined, till the tyrant-ridden horde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw the lightning fade from heaven and knew the sun for God and lord.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the footfall sounds of England, where the smile of England shines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rings the tread and laughs the face of freedom, fair as hope divines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Days to be, more brave than ours and lit by lordlier stars for signs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All our past acclaims our future: Shakespeare's voice and Nelson's hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Milton's faith and Wordsworth's trust in this our chosen and chainless land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bear us witness: come the world against her, England yet shall stand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earth and sea bear England witness if he lied who said it; he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom the winds that ward her, waves that clasp, and herb and flower and tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fed with English dews and sunbeams, hail as more than man may be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span><span class="i0">No man ever spake as he that bade our England be but true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep but faith with England fast and firm, and none should bid her rue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None may speak as he: but all may know the sign that Shakespeare knew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">III<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the springs of the dawn, from the depths of the noon, from the heights of the night that shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope, faith, and remembrance of glory that found but in England her throne and her shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak louder than song may proclaim them, that here is the seal of them set for a sign.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And loud as the sea's voice thunders applause of the land that is one with the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speaks Time in the ear of the people that never at heart was not inly free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The word of command that assures us of life, if we will but that life shall be;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If the race that is first of the races of men who behold unashamed the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fast and forget not the sign that is given of the years and the wars that are done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The token that all who are born of its blood should in heart as in blood be one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The word of remembrance that lightens as fire from the steeps of the storm-lit past<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span><span class="i0">Bids only the faith of our fathers endure in us, firm as they held it fast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the glory which was from the first upon England alone may endure to the last.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That the love and the hate may change not, the faith may not fade, nor the wrath nor scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shines for her sons and that burns for her foemen as fire of the night or the morn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the births of her womb may forget not the sign of the glory wherein they were born.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A light that is more than the sunlight, an air that is brighter than morning's breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clothes England about as the strong sea clasps her, and answers the word that it saith;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The word that assures her of life if she change not, and choose not the ways of death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Change darkens and lightens around her, alternate in hope and in fear to be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope knows not if fear speak truth, nor fear whether hope be not blind as she:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sun is in heaven that beholds her immortal, and girdled with life by the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> +<h2>ETON: AN ODE</h2> + +<h3>FOR THE FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THE FOUNDATION OF THE +COLLEGE</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i13">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Four hundred summers and fifty have shone on the meadows of Thames and died<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since Eton arose in an age that was darkness, and shone by his radiant side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a star that the spell of a wise man's word bade live and ascend and abide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And ever as time's flow brightened, a river more dark than the storm-clothed sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And age upon age rose fairer and larger in promise of hope set free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With England Eton her child kept pace as a fostress of men to be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And ever as earth waxed wiser, and softer the beating of time's wide wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since fate fell dark on her father, most hapless and gentlest of star-crossed kings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her praise has increased as the chant of the dawn that the choir of the noon outsings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span><span class="i14">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Storm and cloud in the skies were loud, and lightning mocked at the blind sun's light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">War and woe on the land below shed heavier shadow than falls from night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark was earth at her dawn of birth as here her record of praise is bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Clear and fair through her morning air the light first laugh of the sunlit stage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose and rang as a fount that sprang from depths yet dark with a spent storm's rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loud and glad as a boy's, and bade the sunrise open on Shakespeare's age.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lords of state and of war, whom fate found strong in battle, in counsel strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, ere fate had approved them great, abode their season, and thought not long:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here too first was the lark's note nursed that filled and flooded the skies with song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">III<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shelley, lyric lord of England's lordliest singers, here first heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ring from lips of poets crowned and dead the Promethean word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence his soul took fire, and power to outsoar the sunward-soaring bird.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span><span class="i0">Still the reaches of the river, still the light on field and hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still the memories held aloft as lamps for hope's young fire to fill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shine, and while the light of England lives shall shine for England still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When four hundred more and fifty years have risen and shone and set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright with names that men remember, loud with names that men forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply here shall Eton's record be what England finds it yet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE UNION</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Three in one, but one in three,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God, who girt her with the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bade our Commonweal to be:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Nought, if now not one.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though fraud and fear would sever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bond assured for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their shameful strength shall never<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Undo what heaven has done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">South and North and West and East<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watch the ravens flock to feast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dense as round some death-struck beast,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Black as night is black.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fast as faith together<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In stress of treacherous weather<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When hounds and wolves break tether<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Treason guides the pack.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">III<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lovelier than thy seas are strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glorious Ireland, sword and song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gird and crown thee: none may wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Save thy sons alone.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span><span class="i0">The sea that laughs around us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath sundered not but bound us:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun's first rising found us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Throned on its equal throne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">IV<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">North and South and East and West,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All true hearts that wish thee best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beat one tune and own one quest,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Staunch and sure as steel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God guard from dark disunion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our threefold State's communion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God save the loyal Union,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The royal Commonweal!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> +<h2>EAST TO WEST</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Sunset smiles on sunrise: east and west are one,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Face to face in heaven before the sovereign sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the springs of the dawn everlasting a glory renews and transfigures the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the depths of the sunset a light as of morning enkindles the broad sea's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lands and the skies and the waters are glad of the day's and the night's work done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Child of dawn, and regent on the world-wide sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">England smiles on Europe, fair as dawn and free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the waters that gird her are purer, nor mightier the winds that her waters know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But America, daughter and sister of England, is praised of them, far as they flow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Atlantic responds to Pacific the praise of her days that have been and shall be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">So from England westward let the watchword fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So for England eastward let the seas reply;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praise, honour, and love everlasting be sent on the wind's wings, westward and east,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the pride of the past and the pride of the future may mingle as friends at feast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sons of the lords of the world-wide seas be one till the world's life die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> +<h2>INSCRIPTIONS</h2> + +<h3>FOR THE FOUR SIDES OF A PEDESTAL</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Marlowe, the father of the sons of song<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose praise is England's crowning praise, above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All glories else that crown her, sweet and strong<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As England, clothed with light and fire of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And girt with might of passion, thought, and trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands here in spirit, sleeps not here in dust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Marlowe, a star too sovereign, too superb,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To fade when heaven took fire from Shakespeare's light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A soul that knew but song's triumphal curb<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And love's triumphant bondage, holds of right<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His pride of place, who first in place and time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made England's voice as England's heart sublime.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">III<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Marlowe bade England live in living song:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The light he lifted up lit Shakespeare's way:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He spake, and life sprang forth in music, strong<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As fire or lightning, sweet as dawn of day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Song was a dream where day took night to wife:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Let there be life," he said: and there was life.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span><span class="i8">IV<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Marlowe of all our fathers first beheld<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beyond the tidal ebb and flow of things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tideless depth and height of souls, impelled<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By thought or passion, borne on waves or wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond all flight or sight but song's: and he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First gave our song a sound that matched our sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> +<h2>ON THE DEATH OF RICHARD BURTON</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Night or light is it now, wherein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleeps, shut out from the wild world's din,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wakes, alive with a life more clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One who found not on earth his kin?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleep were sweet for awhile, were dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surely to souls that were heartless here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Souls that faltered and flagged and fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft of spirit and faint of cheer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A living soul that had strength to quell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope the spectre and fear the spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clear-eyed, content with a scorn sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a faith superb, can it fare not well?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Life, the shadow of wide-winged time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cast from the wings that change as they climb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Life may vanish in death, and seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less than the promise of last year's prime.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But not for us is the past a dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefrom, as light from a clouded stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faith fades and shivers and ebbs away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint as the moon if the sundawn gleam.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span><span class="i0">Faith, whose eyes in the low last ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watch the fire that renews the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faith which lives in the living past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rock-rooted, swerves not as weeds that sway.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As trees that stand in the storm-wind fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She stands, unsmitten of death's keen blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With strong remembrance of sunbright spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alive at heart to the lifeless last.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Night, she knows, may in no wise cling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a soul that sinks not and droops not wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A sun that sets not in death's false night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose kingdom finds him not thrall but king.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Souls there are that for soul's affright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bow down and cower in the sun's glad sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clothed round with faith that is one with fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dark with doubt of the live world's light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But him we hailed from afar or near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As boldest born of the bravest here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And loved as brightest of souls that eyed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life, time, and death with unchangeful cheer,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A wider soul than the world was wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose praise made love of him one with pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What part has death or has time in him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who rode life's lists as a god might ride?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While England sees not her old praise dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While still her stars through the world's night swim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A fame outshining her Raleigh's fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A light that lightens her loud sea's rim,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span><span class="i0">Shall shine and sound as her sons proclaim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pride that kindles at Burton's name.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And joy shall exalt their pride to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same in birth if in soul the same.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But we that yearn for a friend's face—we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lack the light that on earth was he—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mourn, though the light be a quenchless flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shines as dawn on a tideless sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> +<h2>ELEGY</h2> + +<h3>1869-1891</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Auvergne, Auvergne, O wild and woful land,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O glorious land and gracious, white as gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stairs of heaven, black as a flameless brand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Strange even as life, and stranger than a dream,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Could earth remember man, whose eyes made bright<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The splendour of her beauty, lit by day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or soothed and softened and redeemed by night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wouldst thou not know what light has passed away?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wouldst thou not know whom England, whom the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Mourns? For the world whose wildest ways he trod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smiled their dangers down that coiled and curled<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Against him, knows him now less man than god.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our demigod of daring, keenest-eyed<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To read and deepest read in earth's dim things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spirit now whose body of death has died<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And left it mightier yet in eyes and wings,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span><span class="i0">The sovereign seeker of the world, who now<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hath sought what world the light of death may show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hailed once with me the crowns that load thy brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Crags dark as midnight, columns bright as snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy steep small Siena, splendid and content<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As shines the mightier city's Tuscan pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which here its face reflects in radiance, pent<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By narrower bounds from towering side to side,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Set fast between the ridged and foamless waves<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of earth more fierce and fluctuant than the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fearless town of towers that hails and braves<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The heights that gird, the sun that brands Le Puy;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The huddled churches clinging on the cliffs<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As birds alighting might for storm's sake cling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moored to the rocks as tempest-harried skiffs<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To perilous refuge from the loud wind's wing;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The stairs on stairs that wind and change and climb<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Even up to the utmost crag's edge curved and curled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More bright than vision, more than faith sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Strange as the light and darkness of the world;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strange as are night and morning, stars and sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And washed from west and east by day's deep tide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shine yet less fair, when all their heights are won,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than sundawn shows thy pillared mountain-side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Even so the dawn of death, whose light makes dim<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The starry fires that life sees rise and set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shows higher than here he shone before us him<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whom faith forgets not, nor shall fame forget.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span><span class="i0">Even so those else unfooted heights we clomb<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through scudding mist and eddying whirls of cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blind as a pilot beaten blind with foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And shrouded as a corpse with storm's grey shroud,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Foot following foot along the sheer strait ledge<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where space was none to bear the wild goat's feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till blind we sat on the outer footless edge<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where darkling death seemed fain to share the seat,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The abyss before us, viewless even as time's,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The abyss to left of us, the abyss to right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bid thought now dream how high the freed soul climbs<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That death sets free from change of day and night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The might of raging mist and wind whose wrath<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shut from our eyes the narrowing rock we trod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wondrous world it darkened, made our path<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like theirs who take the shadow of death for God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet eastward, veiled in vapour white as snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The grim black herbless heights that scorn the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mock the face of morning rose to show<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The work of earth-born fire and earthquake done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And half the world was haggard night, wherein<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We strove our blind way through: but far above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was light that watched the wild mists whirl and spin,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And far beneath a land worth light and love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span><span class="i0">Deep down the Valley of the Curse, undaunted<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By shadow and whisper of winds with sins for wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ghosts of crime wherethrough the heights live haunted<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By present sense of past and monstrous things,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The glimmering water holds its gracious way<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Full forth, and keeps one happier hand's-breadth green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all that storm-scathed world whereon the sway<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sits dark as death of deadlier things unseen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But on the soundless and the viewless river<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That bears through night perchance again to day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dead whom death and twin-born fame deliver<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From life that dies, and time's inveterate sway,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No shadow save of falsehood and of fear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That brands the future with the past, and bids<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit wither and the soul grow sere,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hovers or hangs to cloud life's opening lids,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If life have eyes to lift again and see,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beyond the bounds of sensual sight or breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What life incognisable of ours may be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That turns our light to darkness deep as death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Priests and the soulless serfs of priests may swarm<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With vulturous acclamation, loud in lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About his dust while yet his dust is warm<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who mocked as sunlight mocks their base blind eyes,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span><span class="i0">Their godless ghost of godhead, false and foul<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As fear his dam or hell his throne: but we,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce hearing, heed no carrion church-wolf's howl:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The corpse be theirs to mock; the soul is free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Free as ere yet its earthly day was done<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It lived above the coil about us curled:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A soul whose eyes were keener than the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A soul whose wings were wider than the world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We, sons of east and west, ringed round with dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bound fast with visions, girt about with fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live, trust, and think by chance, while shadow seems<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Light, and the wind that wrecks a hand that steers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He, whose full soul held east and west in poise,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Weighed man with man, and creed of man's with creed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And age with age, their triumphs and their toys,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And found what faith may read not and may read.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Scorn deep and strong as death and life, that lit<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With fire the smile at lies and dreams outworn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherewith he smote them, showed sublime in it<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The splendour and the steadfastness of scorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What loftier heaven, what lordlier air, what space<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Illimitable, insuperable, infinite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now to that strong-winged soul yields ampler place<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than passing darkness yields to passing light,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span><span class="i0">No dream, no faith can tell us: hope and fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose tongues were loud of old as children's, now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From babbling fall to silence: change is here,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And death; dark furrows drawn by time's dark plough.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still sunward here on earth its flight was bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Even since the man within the child began<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To yearn and kindle with superb intent<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And trust in time to magnify the man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still toward the old garden of the Sun, whose fruit<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The honey-heavy lips of Sophocles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Desired and sang, wherein the unwithering root<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sprang of all growths that thought brings forth and sees<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Incarnate, bright with bloom or dense with leaf<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Far-shadowing, deep as depth of dawn or night:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all were parcel of the garnered sheaf<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His strenuous spirit bound and stored aright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And eastward now, and ever toward the dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If death's deep veil by life's bright hand be rent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We see, as through the shadow of death withdrawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The imperious soul's indomitable ascent.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But not the soul whose labour knew not end—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But not the swordsman's hand, the crested head—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The royal heart we mourn, the faultless friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Burton—a name that lives till fame be dead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> +<h2>A SEQUENCE OF SONNETS ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT BROWNING</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The clearest eyes in all the world they read<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With sense more keen and spirit of sight more true<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than burns and thrills in sunrise, when the dew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flames, and absorbs the glory round it shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they the light of ages quick and dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Closed now, forsake us: yet the shaft that slew<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Can slay not one of all the works we knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor death discrown that many-laurelled head.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The works of words whose life seems lightning wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And moulded of unconquerable thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And quickened with imperishable flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fast and shine and smile, assured that nought<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May fade of all their myriad-moulded fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor England's memory clasp not Browning's name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>December 13, 1889.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span><span class="i8">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Death, what hast thou to do with one for whom<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Time is not lord, but servant? What least part<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of all the fire that fed his living heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the light more keen than sundawn's bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lit and led his spirit, strong as doom<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And bright as hope, can aught thy breath may dart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Quench? Nay, thou knowest he knew thee what thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shadow born of terror's barren womb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That brings not forth save shadows. What art thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dream, albeit thou breathe upon his brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That power on him is given thee,—that thy breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can make him less than love acclaims him now,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And hears all time sound back the word it saith?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What part hast thou then in his glory, Death?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">III<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A graceless doom it seems that bids us grieve:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Venice and winter, hand in deadly hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Have slain the lover of her sunbright strand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And singer of a stormbright Christmas Eve.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A graceless guerdon we that loved receive<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For all our love, from that the dearest land<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Love worshipped ever. Blithe and soft and bland,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too fair for storm to scathe or fire to cleave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone on our dreams and memories evermore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The domes, the towers, the mountains and the shore<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That gird or guard thee, Venice: cold and black<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems now the face we loved as he of yore.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We have given thee love—no stint, no stay, no lack:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What gift, what gift is this thou hast given us back?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span><span class="i8">IV<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But he—to him, who knows what gift is thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Death? Hardly may we think or hope, when we<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pass likewise thither where to-night is he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the irremeable outer seas that shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And darken round such dreams as half divine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Some sunlit harbour in that starless sea<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where gleams no ship to windward or to lee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To read with him the secret of thy shrine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There too, as here, may song, delight, and love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nightingale, the sea-bird, and the dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fulfil with joy the splendour of the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till all beneath wax bright as all above:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But none of all that search the heavens, and try<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sun, may match the sovereign eagle's eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>December 14.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">V<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Among the wondrous ways of men and time<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He went as one that ever found and sought<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And bore in hand the lamplike spirit of thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To illume with instance of its fire sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dusk of many a cloudlike age and clime.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No spirit in shape of light and darkness wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No faith, no fear, no dream, no rapture, nought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That blooms in wisdom, nought that burns in crime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No virtue girt and armed and helmed with light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No love more lovely than the snows are white,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No serpent sleeping in some dead soul's tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No song-bird singing from some live soul's height,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But he might hear, interpret, or illume<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With sense invasive as the dawn of doom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span><span class="i8">VI<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What secret thing of splendour or of shade<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Surmised in all those wandering ways wherein<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Man, led of love and life and death and sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strays, climbs, or cowers, allured, absorbed, afraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might not the strong and sunlike sense invade<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of that full soul that had for aim to win<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Light, silent over time's dark toil and din,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life, at whose touch death fades as dead things fade?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O spirit of man, what mystery moves in thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he might know not of in spirit, and see<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The heart within the heart that seems to strive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The life within the life that seems to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And hear, through all thy storms that whirl and drive,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The living sound of all men's souls alive?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">VII<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He held no dream worth waking: so he said,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He who stands now on death's triumphal steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Awakened out of life wherein we sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dream of what he knows and sees, being dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never death for him was dark or dread:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"Look forth" he bade the soul, and fear not. Weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All ye that trust not in his truth, and keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain memory's vision of a vanished head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As all that lives of all that once was he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save that which lightens from his word: but we,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who, seeing the sunset-coloured waters roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet know the sun subdued not of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor weep nor doubt that still the spirit is whole,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And life and death but shadows of the soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>December 15.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> +<h2>SUNSET AND MOONRISE</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">New Year's Eve</span>, 1889</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All the west, whereon the sunset sealed the dead year's glorious grave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fast with seals of light and fire and cloud that light and fire illume,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Glows at heart and kindles earth and heaven with joyous blush and bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm and wide as life, and glad of death that only slays to save.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a tide-reconquered sea-rock lies aflush with the influent wave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lies the light aflush with darkness, lapped about by lustrous gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Even as life with death, and fame with time, and memory with the tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where a dead man hath for vassals Fame the serf and Time the slave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far from earth as heaven, the steadfast light withdrawn, superb, suspense,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Burns in dumb divine expansion of illimitable flower:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span><span class="i0">Moonrise whets the shadow's edges keen as noontide: hence and thence<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Glows the presence from us passing, shines and passes not the power.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Souls arise whose word remembered is as spirit within the sense:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the hours are theirs of all the seasons: death has but his hour.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> +<h2>BIRTHDAY ODE</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">August</span> 6, 1891</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love and praise, and a length of days whose shadow cast upon time is light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Days whose sound was a spell shed round from wheeling wings as of doves in flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet in one, that the mounting sun to-day may triumph, and cast out night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Two years more than the full fourscore lay hallowing hands on a sacred head—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce one score of the perfect four uncrowned of fame as they smiled and fled:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still and soft and alive aloft their sunlight stays though the suns be dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere we were or were thought on, ere the love that gave us to life began,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fame grew strong with his crescent song, to greet the goal of the race they ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Song with fame, and the lustrous name with years whose changes acclaimed the man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span><span class="i12">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soon, ere time in the rounding rhyme of choral seasons had hailed us men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We too heard and acclaimed the word whose breath was life upon England then—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life more bright than the breathless light of soundless noon in a songless glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, the joy of the heartstruck boy whose ear was opened of love to hear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, the bliss of the burning kiss of song and spirit, the mounting cheer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lit with fire of divine desire and love that knew not if love were fear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fear and love as of heaven above and earth enkindled of heaven were one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One white flame, that around his name grew keen and strong as the worldwide sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awe made bright with implied delight, as weft with weft of the rainbow spun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">III<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He that fears not the voice he hears and loves shall never have heart to sing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the grace of the sun-god's face that bids the soul as a fountain spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bids the brow that receives it bow, and hail his likeness on earth as king.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span><span class="i0">We that knew when the sun's shaft flew beheld and worshipped, adored and heard:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light rang round it of shining sound, whence all men's hearts were subdued and stirred:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy, love, sorrow, the day, the morrow, took life upon them in one man's word.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not for him can the years wax dim, nor downward swerve on a darkening way:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upward wind they, and leave behind such light as lightens the front of May:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair as youth and sublime as truth we find the fame that we hail to-day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> +<h2>THRENODY</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">October</span> 6, 1892</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Life, sublime and serene when time had power upon it and ruled its breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changed it, bade it be glad or sad, and hear what change in the world's ear saith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines more fair in the starrier air whose glory lightens the dusk of death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Suns that sink on the wan sea's brink, and moons that kindle and flame and fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave more clear for the darkness here the stars that set not and see not shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise and rise on the lowlier skies by rule of sunlight and moonlight swayed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, when night for his eyes grew bright, his proud head pillowed on Shakespeare's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hand in hand with him, soon to stand where shine the glories that death loves best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passed the light of his face from sight, and sank sublimely to radiant rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span><span class="i12">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far above us and all our love, beyond all reach of its voiceless praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines for ever the name that never shall feel the shade of the changeful days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fall and chill the delight that still sees winter's light on it shine like May's.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strong as death is the dark day's breath whose blast has withered the life we see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here where light is the child of night, and less than visions or dreams are we:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong as death; but a word, a breath, a dream is stronger than death can be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strong as truth and superb in youth eternal, fair as the sundawn's flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seen when May on her first-born day bids earth exult in her radiant name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lives, clothed round with its praise and crowned with love that dies not, his love-lit fame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">III<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fairer far than the morning star, and sweet for us as the songs that rang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loud through heaven from the choral Seven when all the stars of the morning sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines the song that we loved so long—since first such love in us flamed and sprang.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span><span class="i0">England glows as a sunlit rose from mead to mountain, from sea to sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright with love and with pride above all taint of sorrow that needs must be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Needs must live for an hour, and give its rainbow's glory to lawn and lea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not through tears shall the new-born years behold him, crowned with applause of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pass at last from a lustrous past to life that lightens beyond their ken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glad and dead, and from earthward led to sunward, guided of Imogen.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE BALLAD OF MELICERTES</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">In Memory of Theodore de Banville</span></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Death, a light outshining life, bids heaven resume<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Star by star the souls whose light made earth divine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death, a night outshining day, sees burn and bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Flower by flower, and sun by sun, the fames that shine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Deathless, higher than life beheld their sovereign sign.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dead Simonides of Ceos, late restored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Given again of God, again by man deplored,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shone but yestereve, a glory frail as breath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frail? But fame's breath quickens, kindles, keeps in ward,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Life so sweet as this that dies and casts off death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mother's love, and rapture of the sea, whose womb<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Breeds eternal life of joy that stings like brine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pride of song, and joy to dare the singer's doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sorrow soft as sleep and laughter bright as wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Flushed and filled with fragrant fire his lyric line.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the sea-shell utters, like a stricken chord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Music uttering all the sea's within it stored,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Poet well-beloved, whose praise our sorrow saith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So thy songs retain thy soul, and so record<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Life so sweet as this that dies and casts off death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span><span class="i0">Side by side we mourned at Gautier's golden tomb:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Here in spirit now I stand and mourn at thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet no breath of death strikes thence, no shadow of gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Only light more bright than gold of the inmost mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Only steam of incense warm from love's own shrine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the darkling stream, the sundering Stygian ford,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the hour that smites and severs as a sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not the night subduing light that perisheth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smite, subdue, divide from us by doom abhorred,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Life so sweet as this that dies and casts off death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Prince of song more sweet than honey, lyric lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not thy France here only mourns a light adored,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One whose love-lit fame the world inheriteth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strangers too, now brethren, hail with heart's accord<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Life so sweet as this that dies and casts off death.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> +<h2>AU TOMBEAU DE BANVILLE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">La plus douce des voix qui vibraient sous le ciel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Se tait: les rossignols ailés pleurent le frère<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Qui s'envole au-dessus de l'âpre et sombre terre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne lui laissant plus voir que l'être essentiel,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Esprit qui chante et rit, fleur d'une âme sans fiel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">L'ombre élyséenne, où la nuit n'est que lumière,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Revoit, tout revêtu de splendeur douce et fière,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mélicerte, poète à la bouche de miel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dieux exilés, passants célestes de ce monde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dont on entend parfois dans notre nuit profonde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vibrer la voix, frémir les ailes, vous savez<br /></span> +<span class="i0">S'il vous aima, s'il vous pleura, lui dont la vie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et le chant rappelaient les vôtres. Recevez<br /></span> +<span class="i0">L'âme de Mélicerte affranchie et ravie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> +<h2>LIGHT: AN EPICEDE</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">To Philip Bourke Marston</span></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love will not weep because the seal is broken<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That sealed upon a life beloved and brief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darkness, and let but song break through for token<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How deep, too far for even thy song's relief,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Slept in thy soul the secret springs of grief.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy song may soothe full many a soul hereafter,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As tears, if tears will come, dissolve despair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As here but late, with smile more bright than laughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy sweet strange yearning eyes would seem to bear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Witness that joy might cleave the clouds of care.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Two days agone, and love was one with pity<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When love gave thought wings toward the glimmering goal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, as a shrine lit in some darkling city,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shone soft the shrouded image of thy soul:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And now thou art healed of life; thou art healed, and whole.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span><span class="i0">Yea, two days since, all we that loved thee pitied:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And now with wondering love, with shame of face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We think how foolish now, how far unfitted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Should be from us, toward thee who hast run thy race,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pity—toward thee, who hast won the painless place;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The painless world of death, yet unbeholden<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of eyes that dream what light now lightens thine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And will not weep. Thought, yearning toward those olden<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dear hours that sorrow sees and sees not shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bows tearless down before a flameless shrine:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A flameless altar here of life and sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Quenched and consumed together. These were one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One thing for thee, as night was one with morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And utter darkness with the sovereign sun:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And now thou seest life, sorrow, and darkness done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet love yearns again to win thee hither;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Blind love, and loveless, and unworthy thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here where I watch the hours of darkness wither,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Here where mine eyes were glad and sad to see<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thine that could see not mine, though turned on me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now, if aught beyond sweet sleep lie hidden,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sleep be sealed not fast on dead men's sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ever, thine hath grace for ours forbidden,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sees us compassed round with change and night:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet light like thine is ours, if love be light.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> +<h2>THRENODY</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Watching here alone by the fire whereat last year<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sat with me the friend that a week since yet was near,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That a week has borne so far and hid so deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Woe am I that I may not weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May not yearn to behold him here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shame were mine, and little the love I bore him were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now to mourn that better he fares than love may fare<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which desires, and would not have indeed, its will,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Would not love him so worse than ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Would not clothe him again with care.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet can love not choose but remember, hearts but ache,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eyes but darken, only for one vain thought's poor sake,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For the thought that by this hearth's now lonely side<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Two fast friends, on the day he died,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Looked once more for his hand to take.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span><span class="i0">Let thy soul forgive them, and pardon heal the sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though their hearts be heavy to think what then had been,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The delight that never while they live may be—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Love's communion of speech with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Soul and speech with the soul therein.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O my friend, O brother, a glory veiled and marred!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never love made moan for a life more evil-starred.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Was it envy, chance, or chance-compelling fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whence thy spirit was bruised so late,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bowed so heavily, bound so hard?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now released, it may be,—if only love might know—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Filled and fired with sight, it beholds us blind and low<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With a pity keener yet, if that may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Even than ever was this that we<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Felt, when love of thee wrought us woe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">None may tell the depths and the heights of life and death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What we may we give thee: a word that sorrow saith,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And that none will heed save sorrow: scarce a song.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All we may, who have loved thee long,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Take: the best we can give is breath.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> +<h2>A DIRGE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A bell tolls on in my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As though in my ears a knell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Had ceased for awhile to swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sense of it would not part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the spirit that bears its part<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the chime of the soundless bell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah dear dead singer of sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The burden is now not thine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That grief bade sound for a sign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the songs of the night whose morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has risen, and I may not borrow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A beam from its radiant shrine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The burden has dropped from thee<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That grief on thy life bound fast;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The winter is over and past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose end thou wast fain to see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall sorrow not comfort me<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That is thine no longer—at last?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span><span class="i0">Good day, good night, and good morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Men living and mourning say.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For thee we could only pray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That night of the day might borrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such comfort as dreams lend sorrow:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Death gives thee at last good day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> +<h2>A REMINISCENCE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rose to the wind has yielded: all its leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lie strewn on the graveyard grass, and all their light<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And colour and fragrance leave our sense and sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bereft as a man whom bitter time bereaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of blossom at once and hope of garnered sheaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of April at once and August. Day to night<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Calls wailing, and life to death, and depth to height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soul upon soul of man that hears and grieves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who knows, though he see the snow-cold blossom shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If haply the heart that burned within the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit in sense, the life of life be dead?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If haply the wind that slays with storming snows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be one with the wind that quickens? Bow thine head,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O Sorrow, and commune with thine heart: who knows?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> +<h2>VIA DOLOROSA</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The days of a man are threescore years and ten.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The days of his life were half a man's, whom we<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lament, and would yet not bid him back, to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Partaker of all the woes and ways of men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life sent him enough of sorrow: not again<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Would anguish of love, beholding him set free,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bring back the beloved to suffer life and see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No light but the fire of grief that scathed him then.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We know not at all: we hope, and do not fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We shall not again behold him, late so near,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who now from afar above, with eyes alight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spirit enkindled, haply toward us here<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Looks down unforgetful yet of days like night<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And love that has yet his sightless face in sight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>February 15, 1887.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span><span class="i9">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">TRANSFIGURATION<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But half a man's days—and his days were nights.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What hearts were ours who loved him, should we pray<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That night would yield him back to darkling day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet death that soothes, to life that spoils and smites?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For now, perchance, life lovelier than the light's<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That shed no comfort on his weary way<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shows him what none may dream to see or say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere yet the soul may scale those topless heights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where death lies dead, and triumph. Haply there<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Already may his kindling eyesight find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faces of friends—no face than his more fair—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And first among them found of all his kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Milton, with crowns from Eden on his hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And eyes that meet a brother's now not blind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span><span class="i9">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">DELIVERANCE<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Death, fair Death, sole comforter and sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor Love nor Hope can give such gifts as thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sleep hardly shows us round thy shadowy shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What roses hang, what music floats, what feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pass and what wings of angels. We repeat<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wild words or mild, disastrous or divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Blind prayer, blind imprecation, seeing no sign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hearing aught of thee not faint and fleet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As words of men or snowflakes on the wind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if we chide thee, saying "Thou hast sinned, thou hast sinned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark Death, to take so sweet a light away<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As shone but late, though shadowed, in our skies,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We hear thine answer—"Night has given what day<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Denied him: darkness hath unsealed his eyes."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span><span class="i9">III<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">THANKSGIVING<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Could love give strength to thank thee! Love can give<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Strong sorrow heart to suffer: what we bear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We would not put away, albeit this were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A burden love might cast aside and live.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love chooses rather pain than palliative,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sharp thought than soft oblivion. May we dare<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So trample down our passion and our prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fain would cling round feet now fugitive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stay them—so remember, so forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What joy we had who had his presence yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What griefs were his while joy in him was ours<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And grief made weary music of his breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As even to hail his best and last of hours<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With love grown strong enough to thank thee, Death?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span><span class="i9">IV<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">LIBITINA VERTICORDIA<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sister of sleep, healer of life, divine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As rest and strong as very love may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To set the soul that love could set not free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bid the skies that day could bid not shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give the gift that life withheld was thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With all my heart I loved one borne from me:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And all my heart bows down and praises thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death, that hast now made grief not his but mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Changer of men's hearts, we would not bid thee<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Turn back our hearts from sorrow: this alone<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We bid, we pray thee, from thy sovereign throne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sanctuary sublime where heaven has hid thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Give: grace to know of those for whom we weep<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That if they wake their life is sweet as sleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span><span class="i9">V<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">THE ORDER OF RELEASE<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou canst not give it. Grace enough is ours<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To know that pain for him has fallen on rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The worst we know was his on earth: the best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We fain would think,—a thought no fear deflowers—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is his, released from bonds of rayless hours.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ah, turn our hearts from longing; bid our quest<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Cease, as content with failure. This thy guest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleeps, vexed no more of time's imperious powers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit of hope, the spirit of change and loss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit of love bowed down beneath his cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor now needs comfort from the strength of song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, should he wake, bears now no cross for him:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dead hope, whose living eyes like his were dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Has brought forth better comfort, strength more strong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span><span class="i9">VI<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">PSYCHAGOGOS<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As Greece of old acclaimed thee God and man,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So, Death, our tongue acclaims thee: yet wast thou<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hailed of old Rome as Romans hail thee now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Goddess and woman. Since the sands first ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That told when first man's life and death began,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The shadows round thy blind ambiguous brow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Have mocked the votive plea, the pleading vow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sought thee sorrowing, fain to bless or ban.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But stronger than a father's love is thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And gentler than a mother's. Lord and God,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy staff is surer than the wizard rod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Hermes bare as priest before thy shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And herald of thy mercies. We could give<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nought, when we would have given: thou bidst him live.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span><span class="i9">VII<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">THE LAST WORD<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So many a dream and hope that went and came,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So many and sweet, that love thought like to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of hours as bright and soft as those for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That made our hearts for song's sweet love the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie now struck dead, that hope seems one with shame.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O Death, thy name is Love: we know it, and see<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The witness: yet for very love's sake we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can hardly bear to mix with thine his name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Philip, how hard it is to bid thee part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou knowest, if aught thou knowest where now thou art<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of us that loved and love thee. None may tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What none but knows—how hard it is to say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The word that seals up sorrow, darkens day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And bids fare forth the soul it bids farewell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> +<h2>IN MEMORY OF AURELIO SAFFI</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wider world of men that is not ours<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Receives a soul whose life on earth was light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though darkness close the date of human hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Love holds the spirit and sense of life in sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That may not, even though death bid fly, take flight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faith, love, and hope fulfilled with memory, see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As clear and dear as life could bid it be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The present soul that is and is not he.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He, who held up the shield and sword of Rome<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Against the ravening brood of recreant France,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the man of men whom heaven took home<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When earth beheld the spring's first eyebeams glance<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And life and winter seemed alike a trance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eighteen years since, in sight of heaven and spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That saw the soul above all souls take wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He too now hears the heaven we hear not sing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He too now dwells where death is dead, and stands<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where souls like stars exult in life to be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence all who linked heroic hearts and hands<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shine on our sight, and give it strength to see<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What hope makes fair for all whom faith makes free:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span><span class="i0">Free with such freedom as we find in sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light sweet shadow of death, when dreams are deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And high as heaven whence light and lightning leap.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And scarce a month yet gone, his living hand<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Writ loving words that sealed me friend of his.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are heaven and earth as near as sea to strand?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May life and death as bride and bridegroom kiss?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His last month's written word abides, and is;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clear as the sun that lit through storm and strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And darkling days when hope took fear to wife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The faith whose fire was light of all his life.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A life so fair, so pure of earthlier leaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That none hath won through higher and harder ways<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deathless life of death which earth calls heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heaven, and the light of love on earth, and praise<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of silent memory through subsiding days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein the light subsides not whence the past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feeds full with life the future. Time holds fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their names whom faith forgets not, first and last.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forget? The dark forgets not dawn, nor we<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The suns that sink to rise again, and shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lords of live years and ages. Earth and sea<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Forget not heaven that makes them seem divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though night put out their fires and bid their shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be dark and pale as storm and twilight. Day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not night, is everlasting: life's full sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bids death bow down as dead, and pass away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span><span class="i0">What part has death in souls that past all fear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Win heavenward their supernal way, and smite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With scorn sublime as heaven such dreams as here<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Plague and perplex with cloud and fire the light<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That leads men's waking souls from glimmering night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the awless heights of day, whereon man's awe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Transfigured, dies in rapture, seeing the law<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sealed of the sun that earth arising saw?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Faith, justice, mercy, love, and heaven-born hate<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That sets them all on fire and bids them be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than soft words and dreams that wake too late,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shone living through the lordly life that we<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beheld, revered, and loved on earth, while he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwelt here, and bade our eyes take light thereof;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light as from heaven that flamed or smiled above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In light or fire whose very hate was love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No hate of man, but hate of hate whose foam<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sheds poison forth from tongues of snakes and priests,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stains the sickening air with steams whence Rome<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Now feeds not full the God that slays and feasts;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For now the fangs of all the ravenous beasts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ramped about him, fain of prayer and prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fulfil their lust no more: the tide of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swells, and compels him down the deathward way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Night sucks the Church its creature down, and hell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yawns, heaves, and yearns to clasp its loathliest child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close to the breasts that bore it. All the spell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whence darkness saw the dawn in heaven defiled<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is dumb as death: the lips that lied and smiled<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span><span class="i0">Wax white for fear as ashes. She that bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The banner up of darkness now no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sheds night and fear and shame from shore to shore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When they that cast her kingdom down were born,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">North cried on south and east made moan to west<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For hopes that love had hardly heart to mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For Italy that was not. Kings on quest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By priests whose blessings burn as curses blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made spoil of souls and bodies bowed and bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hunted and harried, leashed as horse or hound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hopeless of the hope that died unfound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now that faith has brought forth fruit to time,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How should not memory praise their names, and hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their record even as Dante's life sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who bade his dream, found fair and false of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Live? Not till earth and heaven be dead and cold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May man forget whose work and will made one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Italy, fair as heaven or freedom won,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left their fame to shine beside her sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>April 1890.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE FESTIVAL OF BEATRICE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dante, sole standing on the heavenward height,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beheld and heard one saying, "Behold me well:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I am, I am Beatrice." Heaven and hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kept silence, and the illimitable light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the stars was darkness in his sight<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose eyes beheld her eyes again, and fell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shame-stricken. Since her soul took flight to dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In heaven, six hundred years have taken flight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now that heavenliest part of earth whereon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines yet their shadow as once their presence shone<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To her bears witness for his sake, as he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For hers bare witness when her face was gone:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No slave, no hospice now for grief—but free<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From shore to mountain and from Alp to sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE MONUMENT OF GIORDANO BRUNO</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not from without us, only from within,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Comes or can ever come upon us light<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whereby the soul keeps ever truth in sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No truth, no strength, no comfort man may win,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No grace for guidance, no release from sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Save of his own soul's giving. Deep and bright<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As fire enkindled in the core of night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burns in the soul where once its fire has been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light that leads and quickens thought, inspired<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To doubt and trust and conquer. So he said<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whom Sidney, flower of England, lordliest head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all we love, loved: but the fates required<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A sacrifice to hate and hell, ere fame<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Should set with his in heaven Giordano's name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cover thine eyes and weep, O child of hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Grey spouse of Satan, Church of name abhorred.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Weep, withered harlot, with thy weeping lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now none will buy the heaven thou hast to sell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At price of prostituted souls, and swell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy loveless list of lovers. Fire and sword<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No more are thine: the steel, the wheel, the cord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flames that rose round living limbs, and fell<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span><span class="i0">In lifeless ash and ember, now no more<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Approve thee godlike. Rome, redeemed at last<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From all the red pollution of thy past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Acclaims the grave bright face that smiled of yore<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Even on the fire that caught it round and clomb<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To cast its ashes on the face of Rome.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>June 9, 1889.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> +<h2>LIFE IN DEATH</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He should have followed who goes forth before us,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Last born of us in life, in death first-born:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The last to lift up eyes against the morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first to see the sunset. Life, that bore us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perchance for death to comfort and restore us,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of him hath left us here awhile forlorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For him is as a garment overworn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And time and change, with suns and stars in chorus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent. But if, beyond all change or time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A law more just, more equal, more sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than sways the surge of life's loud sterile sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sways that still world whose peace environs him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where death lies dead as night when stars wax dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Above all thought or hope of ours is he.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>August 2, 1891.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> +<h2>EPICEDE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As a vesture shalt thou change them, said the prophet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the raiment that was flesh is turned to dust;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dust and flesh and dust again the likeness of it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the fine gold woven and worn of youth is rust.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hours that wax and wane salute the shade and scoff it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That it knows not aught it doth nor aught it must:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Day by day the speeding soul makes haste to doff it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Night by night the pride of life resigns its trust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleep, whose silent notes of song loud life's derange not,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Takes the trust in hand awhile as angels may:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy with wings that rest not, grief with wings that range not,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Guard the gates of sleep and waking, gold or grey.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joys that joys estrange, and griefs that griefs estrange not,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Day that yearns for night, and night that yearns for day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a vesture shalt thou change them, and they change not,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seeing that change may never change or pass away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span><span class="i0">Life of death makes question, "What art thou that changest?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What am I, that fear should trust or faith should doubt?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I that lighten, thou that darkenest and estrangest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is it night or day that girds us round about?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light and darkness on the ways wherein thou rangest<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seem as one, and beams as clouds they put to rout.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strange is hope, but fear of all things born were strangest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seeing that none may strive with change to cast it out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Change alone stands fast, thou sayest, O death: I know not:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What art thou, my brother death, that thou shouldst know?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men may reap no fruits of fields wherein they sow not;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hope or fear is all the seed we have to sow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winter seals the sacred springs up that they flow not:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wind and sun and change unbind them, and they flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Am I thou or art thou I? The years that show not<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pass, and leave no sign when time shall be to show."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hope makes suit to faith lest fear give ear to sorrow:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Doubt strews dust upon his head, and goes his way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the golden hope that life of death would borrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How, if death require again, may life repay?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span><span class="i0">Earth endures no darkness whence no light yearns thorough;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">God in man as light in darkness lives, they say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, would midnight take assurance of the morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who shall pledge the faith or seal the bond of day?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Darkness, mute or loud with music or with mourning,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Starry darkness, winged with wind or clothed with calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreams no dream of grief or fear or wrath or warning,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bears no sign of race or goal or strife or palm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Word of blessing, word of mocking or of scorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Knows it none, nor whence its breath sheds blight or balm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet a little while, and hark, the psalm of morning:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet a little while, and silence takes the psalm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All the comfort, all the worship, all the wonder,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the light of love that darkness holds in fee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the song that silence keeps or keeps not under,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Night, the soul that knows gives thanks for all to thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far beyond the gates that morning strikes in sunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hopes that grief makes holy, dreams that fear sets free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far above the throne of thought, the lair of thunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Silent shines the word whose utterance fills the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> +<h2>MEMORIAL VERSES ON THE DEATH OF WILLIAM BELL SCOTT</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A life more bright than the sun's face, bowed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through stress of season and coil of cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sets: and the sorrow that casts out fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce deems him dead in his chill still shroud,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dead on the breast of the dying year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poet and painter and friend, thrice dear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For love of the suns long set, for love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of song that sets not with sunset here,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For love of the fervent heart, above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sense who saw not the swift light move<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That filled with sense of the loud sun's lyre<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thoughts that passion was fain to prove<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In fervent labour of high desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And faith that leapt from its own quenched pyre<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alive and strong as the sun, and caught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From darkness light, and from twilight fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Passion, deep as the depths unsought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence faith's own hope may redeem us nought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Filled full with ardour of pain sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mourning song and his mounting thought.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span><span class="i0">Elate with sense of a sterner time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His hand's flight clomb as a bird's might climb<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Calvary: dark in the darkling air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shrank for fear of the crowning crime,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Three crosses rose on the hillside bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shown scarce by grace of the lightning's glare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That clove the veil of the temple through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smote the priests on the threshold there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The soul that saw it, the hand that drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence light as thought's or as faith's glance flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And stung to life the sepulchral past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bade the stars of it burn anew,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Held no less than the dead world fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light live shadows about them cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The likeness living of dawn and night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The days that pass and the dreams that last.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thought, clothed round with sorrow as light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark as a cloud that the moon turns bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Moved, as a wind on the striving sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That yearns and quickens and flags in flight,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through forms of colour and song that he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who fain would have set its wide wings free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cast round it, clothing or chaining hope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lights that last not and shades that flee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Scarce in song could his soul find scope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce the strength of his hand might ope<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Art's inmost gate of her sovereign shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cope with heaven as a man may cope.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span><span class="i0">But high as the hope of a man may shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The faith, the fervour, the life divine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That thrills our life and transfigures, rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shone resurgent, a sunbright sign,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through shapes whereunder the strong soul glows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fills them full as a sunlit rose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With sense and fervour of life, whose light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fool's eye knows not, the man's eye knows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">None that can read or divine aright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scriptures writ of the soul may slight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The strife of a strenuous soul to show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than the craft of the hand may write.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">None may slight it, and none may know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How high the flames that aspire and glow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From heart and spirit and soul may climb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And triumph; higher than the souls lie low<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose hearing hears not the livelong rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose eyesight sees not the light sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That shines, that sounds, that ascends and lives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unquenched of change, unobscured of time.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A long life's length, as a man's life gives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Space for the spirit that soars and strives<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To strive and soar, has the soul shone through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heeds not whither the world's wind drives<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now that the days and the ways it knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are strange, are dead as the dawn's grey dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At high midnoon of the mounting day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mocks the might of the dawn it slew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span><span class="i0">Yet haply may not—and haply may—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sense abide of the dead sun's ray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherein the soul that outsoars us now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rejoiced with ours in its radiant sway.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hope may hover, and doubt may bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreaming. Haply—they dream not how—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not life but death may indeed be dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When silence darkens the dead man's brow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hope, whose name is remembrance, fed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With love that lightens from seasons fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dreams, and craves not indeed to know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That death and life are as souls that wed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But change that falls on the heart like snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can chill not memory nor hope, that show<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The soul, the spirit, the heart and head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alive above us who strive below.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> +<h2>AN OLD SAYING</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Many waters cannot quench love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Neither can the floods drown it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who shall snare or slay the white dove<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Faith, whose very dreams crown it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gird it round with grace and peace, deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm, and pure, and soft as sweet sleep?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many waters cannot quench love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Neither can the floods drown it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Set me as a seal upon thine heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As a seal upon thine arm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How should we behold the days depart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the nights resign their charm?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love is as the soul: though hate and fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waste and overthrow, they strike not here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set me as a seal upon thine heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As a seal upon thine arm.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> +<h2>A MOSS-ROSE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If the rose of all flowers be the rarest<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That heaven may adore from above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the fervent moss-rose be the fairest<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That sweetens the summer with love,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can it be that a fairer than any<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Should blossom afar from the tree?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet one, and a symbol of many,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shone sudden for eyes that could see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the grime and the gloom of November<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The bliss and the bloom of July<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bade autumn rejoice and remember<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The balm of the blossoms gone by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Would you know what moss-rose now it may be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That puts all the rest to the blush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flower was the face of a baby,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The moss was a bonnet of plush.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> +<h2>TO A CAT</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stately, kindly, lordly friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Condescend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here to sit by me, and turn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glorious eyes that smile and burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Golden eyes, love's lustrous meed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the golden page I read.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All your wondrous wealth of hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dark and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silken-shaggy, soft and bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the clouds and beams of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pays my reverent hand's caress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back with friendlier gentleness.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dogs may fawn on all and some<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As they come;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, a friend of loftier mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Answer friends alone in kind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just your foot upon my hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Softly bids it understand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span><span class="i0">Morning round this silent sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Garden-seat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sheds its wealth of gathering light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrills the gradual clouds with might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changes woodland, orchard, heath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lawn, and garden there beneath.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair and dim they gleamed below:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now they glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep as even your sunbright eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair as even the wakening skies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can it not or can it be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now that you give thanks to see?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">May not you rejoice as I,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seeing the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Change to heaven revealed, and bid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth reveal the heaven it hid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All night long from stars and moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the sun sets all in tune?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What within you wakes with day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who can say?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All too little may we tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Friends who like each other well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What might haply, if we might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bid us read our lives aright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wild on woodland ways your sires<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flashed like fires;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span><span class="i0">Fair as flame and fierce and fleet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As with wings on wingless feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone and sprang your mother, free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright and brave as wind or sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Free and proud and glad as they,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here to-day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rests or roams their radiant child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vanquished not, but reconciled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free from curb of aught above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save the lovely curb of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love through dreams of souls divine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fain would shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round a dawn whose light and song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then should right our mutual wrong—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak, and seal the love-lit law<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet Assisi's seer foresaw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dreams were theirs; yet haply may<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dawn a day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When such friends and fellows born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing our earth as fair at morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May for wiser love's sake see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More of heaven's deep heart than we.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> +<h2>HAWTHORN DYKE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All the golden air is full of balm and bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where the hawthorns line the shelving dyke with flowers.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Joyous children born of April's happiest hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High and low they laugh and lighten, knowing their doom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright as brief—to bless and cheer they know not whom,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heed not how, but washed and warmed with suns and showers<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Smile, and bid the sweet soft gradual banks and bowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrill with love of sunlit fire or starry gloom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All our moors and lawns all round rejoice; but here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the rapturous resurrection of the year<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Finds the radiant utterance perfect, sees the word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spoken, hears the light that speaks it. Far and near,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the world is heaven: and man and flower and bird<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Here are one at heart with all things seen and heard.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE BROTHERS</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There were twa brethren fell on strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sweet fruits are sair to gather:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tane has reft his brother of life;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There were twa brethren fell to fray;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sweet fruits are sair to gather:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tane is clad in a cloak of clay;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O loud and loud was the live man's cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Would God the dead and the slain were I!"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O sair was the wrang and sair the fray,"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"But liefer had love be slain than slay."<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O sweet is the life that sleeps at hame,"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"But I maun wake on a far sea's faem."<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span><span class="i0">"And women are fairest of a' things fair,"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"But never shall I kiss woman mair."<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Between the birk and the aik and the thorn<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's laid his brother to lie forlorn:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Between the bent and the burn and the broom<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's laid him to sleep till dawn of doom:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He's tane him owre the waters wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Afar to fleet and afar to bide:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His hair was yellow, his cheek was red,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he set his face to the wind and fled:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His banes were stark and his een were bright<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he set his face to the sea by night:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His cheek was wan and his hair was grey<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he came back hame frae the wide world's way:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span><span class="i0">His banes were weary, his een were dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nae man lived and had mind of him:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O whatten a wreck wad they seek on land"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"That they houk the turf to the seaward hand?"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O whatten a prey wad they think to take"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"That they delve the dykes for a dead man's sake?"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A bane of the dead in his hand he's tane;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sweet fruits are sair to gather:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the red blood brak frae the dead white bane.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He's cast it forth of his auld faint hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sweet fruits are sair to gather:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the red blood ran on the wan wet sand.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O whatten a slayer is this," they said,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"That the straik of his hand should raise his dead?"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O weel is me for the sign I take"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"That now I may die for my auld sin's sake."<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span><span class="i0">"For the dead was in wait now fifty year,"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And now shall I die for his blood's sake here."<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wind wears owre the heather.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> +<h2>JACOBITE SONG</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now who will speak, and lie not,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And pledge not life, but give?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slaves herd with herded cattle:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dawn grows bright for battle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if we die, we die not;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And if we live, we live.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The faith our fathers fought for,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The kings our fathers knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We fight but as they fought for:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We seek the goal they sought for,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The chance they hailed and knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The praise they strove and wrought for,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To leave their blood as dew<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On fields that flower anew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Men live that serve the stranger;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hounds live that huntsmen tame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These life-days of our living<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are days of God's good giving<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where death smiles soft on danger<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And life scowls dark on shame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span><span class="i0">And what would you do other,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sweet wife, if you were I?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how should you be other,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sister, than your brother,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If you were man as I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Born of our sire and mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With choice to cower and fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And chance to strike and die?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No churl's our oldworld name is,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The lands we leave are fair:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fairer far than these are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wide as all the seas are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But high as heaven the fame is<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That if we die we share.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our name the night may swallow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Our lands the churl may take:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But night nor death may swallow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hell's nor heaven's dim hollow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The star whose height we take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The star whose light we follow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For faith's unfaltering sake<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till hope that sleeps awake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soft hope's light lure we serve not,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor follow, fain to find:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark time's last word may smite her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dead, ere man's falsehood blight her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But though she die, we swerve not,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who cast not eye behind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Faith speaks when hope dissembles:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Faith lives when hope lies dead:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span><span class="i0">If death as life dissembles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all that night assembles<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of stars at dawn lie dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint hope that smiles and trembles<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May tell not well for dread:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But faith has heard it said.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now who will fight, and fly not,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And grudge not life to give?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who will strike beside us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If life's or death's light guide us?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if we live, we die not,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And if we die, we live.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE BALLAD OF DEAD MEN'S BAY</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sea swings owre the slants of sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All white with winds that drive;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea swirls up to the still dim strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where nae man comes alive.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At the grey soft edge of the fruitless surf<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A light flame sinks and springs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the grey soft rim of the flowerless turf<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A low flame leaps and clings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What light is this on a sunless shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What gleam on a starless sea?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was it earth's or hell's waste womb that bore<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such births as should not be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As lithe snakes turning, as bright stars burning,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They bicker and beckon and call;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As wild waves churning, as wild winds yearning,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They flicker and climb and fall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A soft strange cry from the landward rings—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"What ails the sea to shine?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A keen sweet note from the spray's rim springs—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"What fires are these of thine?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span><span class="i0">A soul am I that was born on earth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For ae day's waesome span:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death bound me fast on the bourn of birth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ere I were christened man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A light by night, I fleet and fare<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till the day of wrath and woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the hems of earth and the skirts of air<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Winds hurl me to and fro."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O well is thee, though the weird be strange<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That bids thee flit and flee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For hope is child of the womb of change,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And hope keeps watch with thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When the years are gone, and the time is come,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">God's grace may give thee grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy soul may sing, though thy soul were dumb,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And shine before God's face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But I, that lighten and revel and roll<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With the foam of the plunging sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sign is mine of a breathing soul<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That God should pity me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Nor death, nor heaven, nor hell, nor birth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hath part in me nor mine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong lords are these of the living earth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And loveless lords of thine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But I that know nor lord nor life<br /></span> +<span class="i1">More sure than storm or spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose breath is made of sport and strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whereon shall I find stay?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span><span class="i0">"And wouldst thou change thy doom with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Full fain with thee would I:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the life that lightens and lifts the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is more than earth or sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And what if the day of doubt and doom<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall save nor smite not me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would not rise from the slain world's tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If there be no more sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Take he my soul that gave my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And give it thee to keep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And me, while seas and stars shall roll<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy life that falls on sleep."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That word went up through the mirk mid sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And even to God's own ear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Lord was ware of the keen twin cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And wroth was he to hear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He's tane the soul of the unsained child<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That fled to death from birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's tane the light of the wan sea wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And bid it burn on earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He's given the ghaist of the babe new-born<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The gift of the water-sprite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ride on revel from morn to morn<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And roll from night to night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He's given the sprite of the wild wan sea<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The gift of the new-born man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A soul for ever to bide and be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When the years have filled their span.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span><span class="i0">When a year was gone and a year was come,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O loud and loud cried they—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"For the lee-lang year thou hast held us dumb<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Take now thy gifts away!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O loud and lang they cried on him,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sair and sair they prayed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Is the face of thy grace as the night's face grim<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For those thy wrath has made?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A cry more bitter than tears of men<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From the rim of the dim grey sea;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Give me my living soul again,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The soul thou gavest me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The doom and the dole of kindly men,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To bide my weird and be!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A cry more keen from the wild low land<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than the wail of waves that roll;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Take back the gift of a loveless hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy gift of doom and dole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weird of men that bide on land;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Take from me, take my soul!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hands that smite are the hands that spare;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They build and break the tomb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They turn to darkness and dust and air<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The fruits of the waste earth's womb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never the gift of a granted prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The dole of a spoken doom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Winds may change at a word unheard,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But none may change the tides:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prayer once heard is as God's own word;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The doom once dealt abides.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span><span class="i0">And ever a cry goes up by day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And ever a wail by night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nae ship comes by the weary bay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But her shipmen hear them wail and pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And see with earthly sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The twofold flames of the twin lights play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the sea-banks green and the sea-floods grey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are proud of peril and fain of prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sand quakes ever; and ill fare they<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That look upon that light.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> +<h2>DEDICATION</h2> + +<h3>1893</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sea of the years that endure not<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose tide shall endure till we die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And know what the seasons assure not,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If death be or life be a lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sways hither the spirit and thither,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A waif in the swing of the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose wrecks are of memories that wither<br /></span> +<span class="i3">As leaves of a tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We hear not and hail not with greeting<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sound of the wings of the years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm of the sound of them beating,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That none till it pass from him hears:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But tempest nor calm can imperil<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The treasures that fade not or fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Change bids them not change and be sterile,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Death bids them not die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hearts plighted in youth to the royal<br /></span> +<span class="i1">High service of hope and of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sealed fast for endurance as loyal,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And proved of the years as they throng,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span><span class="i0">Conceive not, believe not, and fear not<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That age may be other than youth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That faith and that friendship may hear not<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And utter not truth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not yesterday's light nor to-morrow's<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Gleams nearer or clearer than gleams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though joys be forgotten and sorrows<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Forgotten as changes of dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dawn of the days unforgotten<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That noon could eclipse not or slay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose fruits were as children begotten<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of dawn upon day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The years that were flowerful and fruitless,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The years that were fruitful and dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hopes that were radiant and rootless,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The hopes that were winged for their mark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie soft in the sepulchres fashioned<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of hours that arise and subside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Absorbed and subdued and impassioned,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In pain or in pride.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But far in the night that entombs them<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The starshine as sunshine is strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clear through the cloud that resumes them<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Remembrance, a light and a song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rings lustrous as music and hovers<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As birds that impend on the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thoughts that their prison-house covers<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Arise and are free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forgetfulness deep as a prison<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Holds days that are dead for us fast<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span><span class="i0">Till the sepulchre sees rearisen<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The spirit whose reign is the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disentrammelled of darkness, and kindled<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With life that is mightier than death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the life that obscured it has dwindled<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And passed as a breath.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But time nor oblivion may darken<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Remembrance whose name will be joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While memory forgets not to hearken,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While manhood forgets not the boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who heard and exulted in hearing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The songs of the sunrise of youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ring radiant above him, unfearing<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And joyous as truth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Truth, winged and enkindled with rapture<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sense of the radiance of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fulfilled you with power to recapture<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What never might singer before—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The life, the delight, and the sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of troublous and chivalrous years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That knew not of night or of morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of hopes or of fears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But wider the wing and the vision<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That quicken the spirit have spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since memory beheld with derision<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Man's hope to be more than his dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the mists and the snows and the thunders<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Your spirit has brought for us forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light, music, and joy in the wonders<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And charms of the north.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span><span class="i0">The wars and the woes and the glories<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That quicken and lighten and rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the clouds of its chronicled stories,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The passion, the pride, and the pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose echoes were mute and the token<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Was lost of the spells that they spake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise bright at your bidding, unbroken<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of ages that break.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For you, and for none of us other,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Time is not: the dead that must live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hold commune with you as a brother<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By grace of the life that you give.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart that was in them is in you,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their soul in your spirit endures:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strength of their song is the sinew<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of this that is yours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hence is it that life, everlasting<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As light and as music, abides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the sound of the surge of it, casting<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sound back to the surge of the tides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till sons of the sons of the Norsemen<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Watch, hurtling to windward and lee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round England, unbacked of her horsemen,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The steeds of the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Astrophel and Other Poems, by +Algernon Charles Swinburne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Astrophel and Other Poems + Taken from The Collected Poetical Works of Algernon Charles + Swinburne, Vol. VI + +Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne + +Release Date: June 24, 2006 [EBook #18673] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTROPHEL AND OTHER POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Paul Murray, Lisa Reigel, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Greek words in this text have been transliterated +and placed between +marks+.] + + + + +Astrophel and other poems + + +By + +Algernon Charles Swinburne + + +Taken from The Collected Poetical Works of Algernon Charles +Swinburne--Vol. VI + + + + +THE COLLECTED POETICAL WORKS OF ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE + +VOL. VI + + +A MIDSUMMER HOLIDAY: ASTROPHEL: A CHANNEL PASSAGE AND OTHER TALES + + + + +SWINBURNE'S POETICAL WORKS + + I. POEMS AND BALLADS (First Series). + + II. SONGS BEFORE SUNRISE, AND SONGS OF TWO NATIONS. + +III. POEMS AND BALLADS (Second and Third Series), and SONGS OF THE + SPRINGTIDES. + + IV. TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE, THE TALE OF BALEN, ATALANTA IN CALYDON, + ERECHTHEUS. + + V. STUDIES IN SONG, A CENTURY OF ROUNDELS, SONNETS ON ENGLISH DRAMATIC + POETS, THE HEPTALOGIA, ETC. + + VI. A MIDSUMMER HOLIDAY, ASTROPHEL, A CHANNEL PASSAGE AND OTHER POEMS. + + +LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN + + + + +A MIDSUMMER HOLIDAY: ASTROPHEL: A CHANNEL PASSAGE AND OTHER POEMS + +By + +Algernon Charles Swinburne + + +1917 + +LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN + + +_First printed_ (_Chatto_), 1904 + +_Reprinted_ 1904, '09, '10, '12 + +(_Heinemann_), 1917 + + +_London: William Heinemann_, 1917 + + + + +ASTROPHEL AND OTHER POEMS + + +ASTROPHEL 121 + +A NYMPHOLEPT 127 + +ON THE SOUTH COAST 141 + +AN AUTUMN VISION 149 + +A SWIMMER'S DREAM 159 + +GRACE DARLING 164 + +LOCH TORRIDON 171 + +THE PALACE OF PAN 178 + +A YEAR'S CAROLS 181 + +ENGLAND: AN ODE 186 + +ETON: AN ODE 191 + +THE UNION 194 + +EAST TO WEST 196 + +INSCRIPTIONS FOR THE FOUR SIDES OF A PEDESTAL 197 + +ON THE DEATH OF RICHARD BURTON 199 + +ELEGY 202 + +A SEQUENCE OF SONNETS ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT BROWNING 208 + +SUNSET AND MOONRISE 212 + +BIRTHDAY ODE 214 + +THRENODY 217 + +THE BALLAD OF MELICERTES 220 + +AU TOMBEAU DE BANVILLE 222 + +LIGHT: AN EPICEDE 223 + +THRENODY 225 + +A DIRGE 227 + +A REMINISCENCE 229 + +VIA DOLOROSA 230 + + I. TRANSFIGURATION 231 + + II. DELIVERANCE 232 + + III. THANKSGIVING 233 + + IV. LIBITINA VERTICORDIA 234 + + V. THE ORDER OF RELEASE 235 + + VI. PSYCHAGOGOS 236 + + VII. THE LAST WORD 237 + +IN MEMORY OF AURELIO SAFFI 238 + +THE FESTIVAL OF BEATRICE 242 + +THE MONUMENT OF GIORDANO BRUNO 243 + +LIFE IN DEATH 245 + +EPICEDE 246 + +MEMORIAL VERSES ON THE DEATH OF WILLIAM BELL SCOTT 249 + +AN OLD SAYING 253 + +A MOSS-ROSE 254 + +TO A CAT 255 + +HAWTHORN DYKE 258 + +THE BROTHERS 259 + +JACOBITE SONG 263 + +THE BALLAD OF DEAD MEN'S BAY 266 + +DEDICATION 271 + + + + +ASTROPHEL AND OTHER POEMS + + +TO WILLIAM MORRIS + + + + + ASTROPHEL + + AFTER READING SIR PHILIP SIDNEY'S ARCADIA IN THE + GARDEN OF AN OLD ENGLISH MANOR HOUSE + + + I + + A star in the silence that follows + The song of the death of the sun + Speaks music in heaven, and the hollows + And heights of the world are as one; + One lyre that outsings and outlightens + The rapture of sunset, and thrills + Mute night till the sense of it brightens + The soul that it fills. + + The flowers of the sun that is sunken + Hang heavy of heart as of head; + The bees that have eaten and drunken + The soul of their sweetness are fled; + But a sunflower of song, on whose honey + My spirit has fed as a bee, + Makes sunnier than morning was sunny + The twilight for me. + + The letters and lines on the pages + That sundered mine eyes and the flowers + Wax faint as the shadows of ages + That sunder their season and ours; + As the ghosts of the centuries that sever + A season of colourless time + From the days whose remembrance is ever, + As they were, sublime. + + The season that bred and that cherished + The soul that I commune with yet, + Had it utterly withered and perished + To rise not again as it set, + Shame were it that Englishmen living + Should read as their forefathers read + The books of the praise and thanksgiving + Of Englishmen dead. + + O light of the land that adored thee + And kindled thy soul with her breath, + Whose life, such as fate would afford thee, + Was lovelier than aught but thy death, + By what name, could thy lovers but know it, + Might love of thee hail thee afar, + Philisides, Astrophel, poet + Whose love was thy star? + + A star in the moondawn of Maytime, + A star in the cloudland of change; + Too splendid and sad for the daytime + To cheer or eclipse or estrange; + Too sweet for tradition or vision + To see but through shadows of tears + Rise deathless across the division + Of measureless years. + + The twilight may deepen and harden + As nightward the stream of it runs + Till starshine transfigure a garden + Whose radiance responds to the sun's: + The light of the love of thee darkens + The lights that arise and that set: + The love that forgets thee not hearkens + If England forget. + + + II + + Bright and brief in the sight of grief and love the light of thy + lifetime shone, + Seen and felt by the gifts it dealt, the grace it gave, and again + was gone: + Ay, but now it is death, not thou, whom time has conquered as years + pass on. + + Ay, not yet may the land forget that bore and loved thee and + praised and wept, + Sidney, lord of the stainless sword, the name of names that her + heart's love kept + Fast as thine did her own, a sign to light thy life till it sank + and slept. + + Bright as then for the souls of men thy brave Arcadia resounds and + shines, + Lit with love that beholds above all joys and sorrows the steadfast + signs, + Faith, a splendour that hope makes tender, and truth, whose presage + the soul divines. + + All the glory that girds the story of all thy life as with sunlight + round, + All the spell that on all souls fell who saw thy spirit, and held + them bound, + Lives for all that have heard the call and cadence yet of its music + sound. + + Music bright as the soul of light, for wings an eagle, for notes a + dove, + Leaps and shines from the lustrous lines wherethrough thy soul from + afar above + Shone and sang till the darkness rang with light whose fire is the + fount of love. + + Love that led thee alive, and fed thy soul with sorrows and joys + and fears, + Love that sped thee, alive and dead, to fame's fair goal with thy + peerless peers, + Feeds the flame of thy quenchless name with light that lightens the + rayless years. + + Dark as sorrow though night and morrow may lower with presage of + clouded fame, + How may she that of old bare thee, may Sidney's England, be brought + to shame? + How should this be, while England is? What need of answer beyond + thy name? + + + III + + From the love that transfigures thy glory, + From the light of the dawn of thy death, + The life of thy song and thy story + Took subtler and fierier breath. + And we, though the day and the morrow + Set fear and thanksgiving at strife, + Hail yet in the star of thy sorrow + The sun of thy life. + + Shame and fear may beset men here, and bid thanksgiving and pride + be dumb: + Faith, discrowned of her praise, and wound about with toils till + her life wax numb, + Scarce may see if the sundawn be, if darkness die not and dayrise + come. + + But England, enmeshed and benetted + With spiritless villainies round, + With counsels of cowardice fretted, + With trammels of treason enwound, + Is yet, though the season be other + Than wept and rejoiced over thee, + Thine England, thy lover, thy mother, + Sublime as the sea. + + Hers wast thou: if her face be now less bright, or seem for an hour + less brave, + Let but thine on her darkness shine, thy saviour spirit revive and + save, + Time shall see, as the shadows flee, her shame entombed in a + shameful grave. + + If death and not life were the portal + That opens on life at the last, + If the spirit of Sidney were mortal + And the past of it utterly past, + Fear stronger than honour was ever, + Forgetfulness mightier than fame, + Faith knows not if England should never + Subside into shame. + + Yea, but yet is thy sun not set, thy sunbright spirit of trust + withdrawn: + England's love of thee burns above all hopes that darken or fears + that fawn: + Hers thou art: and the faithful heart that hopes begets upon + darkness dawn. + + The sunset that sunrise will follow + Is less than the dream of a dream: + The starshine on height and on hollow + Sheds promise that dawn shall redeem: + The night, if the daytime would hide it, + Shows lovelier, aflame and afar, + Thy soul and thy Stella's beside it, + A star by a star. + + + + + A NYMPHOLEPT + + + Summer, and noon, and a splendour of silence, felt, + Seen, and heard of the spirit within the sense. + Soft through the frondage the shades of the sunbeams melt, + Sharp through the foliage the shafts of them, keen and dense, + Cleave, as discharged from the string of the God's bow, tense + As a war-steed's girth, and bright as a warrior's belt. + Ah, why should an hour that is heaven for an hour pass hence? + + I dare not sleep for delight of the perfect hour, + Lest God be wroth that his gift should be scorned of man. + The face of the warm bright world is the face of a flower, + The word of the wind and the leaves that the light winds fan + As the word that quickened at first into flame, and ran, + Creative and subtle and fierce with invasive power, + Through darkness and cloud, from the breath of the one God, Pan. + + The perfume of earth possessed by the sun pervades + The chaster air that he soothes but with sense of sleep. + Soft, imminent, strong as desire that prevails and fades, + The passing noon that beholds not a cloudlet weep + Imbues and impregnates life with delight more deep + Than dawn or sunset or moonrise on lawns or glades + Can shed from the skies that receive it and may not keep. + + The skies may hold not the splendour of sundown fast; + It wanes into twilight as dawn dies down into day. + And the moon, triumphant when twilight is overpast, + Takes pride but awhile in the hours of her stately sway. + But the might of the noon, though the light of it pass away, + Leaves earth fulfilled of desires and of dreams that last; + But if any there be that hath sense of them none can say. + + For if any there be that hath sight of them, sense, or trust + Made strong by the might of a vision, the strength of a dream, + His lips shall straiten and close as a dead man's must, + His heart shall be sealed as the voice of a frost-bound stream. + For the deep mid mystery of light and of heat that seem + To clasp and pierce dark earth, and enkindle dust, + Shall a man's faith say what it is? or a man's guess deem? + + Sleep lies not heavier on eyes that have watched all night + Than hangs the heat of the noon on the hills and trees. + Why now should the haze not open, and yield to sight + A fairer secret than hope or than slumber sees? + I seek not heaven with submission of lips and knees, + With worship and prayer for a sign till it leap to light: + I gaze on the gods about me, and call on these. + + I call on the gods hard by, the divine dim powers + Whose likeness is here at hand, in the breathless air, + In the pulseless peace of the fervid and silent flowers, + In the faint sweet speech of the waters that whisper there. + Ah, what should darkness do in a world so fair? + The bent-grass heaves not, the couch-grass quails not or cowers; + The wind's kiss frets not the rowan's or aspen's hair. + + But the silence trembles with passion of sound suppressed, + And the twilight quivers and yearns to the sunward, wrung + With love as with pain; and the wide wood's motionless breast + Is thrilled with a dumb desire that would fain find tongue + And palpitates, tongueless as she whom a man-snake stung, + Whose heart now heaves in the nightingale, never at rest + Nor satiated ever with song till her last be sung. + + Is it rapture or terror that circles me round, and invades + Each vein of my life with hope--if it be not fear? + Each pulse that awakens my blood into rapture fades, + Each pulse that subsides into dread of a strange thing near + Requickens with sense of a terror less dread than dear. + Is peace not one with light in the deep green glades + Where summer at noonday slumbers? Is peace not here? + + The tall thin stems of the firs, and the roof sublime + That screens from the sun the floor of the steep still wood, + Deep, silent, splendid, and perfect and calm as time, + Stand fast as ever in sight of the night they stood, + When night gave all that moonlight and dewfall could. + The dense ferns deepen, the moss glows warm as the thyme: + The wild heath quivers about me: the world is good. + + Is it Pan's breath, fierce in the tremulous maidenhair, + That bids fear creep as a snake through the woodlands, felt + In the leaves that it stirs not yet, in the mute bright air, + In the stress of the sun? For here has the great God dwelt: + For hence were the shafts of his love or his anger dealt. + For here has his wrath been fierce as his love was fair, + When each was as fire to the darkness its breath bade melt. + + Is it love, is it dread, that enkindles the trembling noon, + That yearns, reluctant in rapture that fear has fed, + As man for woman, as woman for man? Full soon, + If I live, and the life that may look on him drop not dead, + Shall the ear that hears not a leaf quake hear his tread, + The sense that knows not the sound of the deep day's tune + Receive the God, be it love that he brings or dread. + + The naked noon is upon me: the fierce dumb spell, + The fearful charm of the strong sun's imminent might, + Unmerciful, steadfast, deeper than seas that swell, + Pervades, invades, appals me with loveless light, + With harsher awe than breathes in the breath of night. + Have mercy, God who art all! For I know thee well, + How sharp is thine eye to lighten, thine hand to smite. + + The whole wood feels thee, the whole air fears thee: but fear + So deep, so dim, so sacred, is wellnigh sweet. + For the light that hangs and broods on the woodlands here, + Intense, invasive, intolerant, imperious, and meet + To lighten the works of thine hands and the ways of thy feet, + Is hot with the fire of the breath of thy life, and dear + As hope that shrivels or shrinks not for frost or heat. + + Thee, thee the supreme dim godhead, approved afar, + Perceived of the soul and conceived of the sense of man, + We scarce dare love, and we dare not fear: the star + We call the sun, that lit us when life began + To brood on the world that is thine by his grace for a span, + Conceals and reveals in the semblance of things that are + Thine immanent presence, the pulse of thy heart's life, Pan. + + The fierce mid noon that wakens and warms the snake + Conceals thy mercy, reveals thy wrath: and again + The dew-bright hour that assuages the twilight brake + Conceals thy wrath and reveals thy mercy: then + Thou art fearful only for evil souls of men + That feel with nightfall the serpent within them wake, + And hate the holy darkness on glade and glen. + + Yea, then we know not and dream not if ill things be, + Or if aught of the work of the wrong of the world be thine. + We hear not the footfall of terror that treads the sea, + We hear not the moan of winds that assail the pine: + We see not if shipwreck reign in the storm's dim shrine; + If death do service and doom bear witness to thee + We see not,--know not if blood for thy lips be wine. + + But in all things evil and fearful that fear may scan, + As in all things good, as in all things fair that fall, + We know thee present and latent, the lord of man; + In the murmuring of doves, in the clamouring of winds that call + And wolves that howl for their prey; in the midnight's pall, + In the naked and nymph-like feet of the dawn, O Pan, + And in each life living, O thou the God who art all. + + Smiling and singing, wailing and wringing of hands, + Laughing and weeping, watching and sleeping, still + Proclaim but and prove but thee, as the shifted sands + Speak forth and show but the strength of the sea's wild will + That sifts and grinds them as grain in the storm-wind's mill. + In thee is the doom that falls and the doom that stands: + The tempests utter thy word, and the stars fulfil. + + Where Etna shudders with passion and pain volcanic + That rend her heart as with anguish that rends a man's, + Where Typho labours, and finds not his thews Titanic, + In breathless torment that ever the flame's breath fans, + Men felt and feared thee of old, whose pastoral clans + Were given to the charge of thy keeping; and soundless panic + Held fast the woodland whose depths and whose heights were Pan's. + + And here, though fear be less than delight, and awe + Be one with desire and with worship of earth and thee, + So mild seems now thy secret and speechless law, + So fair and fearless and faithful and godlike she, + So soft the spell of thy whisper on stream and sea, + Yet man should fear lest he see what of old men saw + And withered: yet shall I quail if thy breath smite me. + + Lord God of life and of light and of all things fair, + Lord God of ravin and ruin and all things dim, + Death seals up life, and darkness the sunbright air, + And the stars that watch blind earth in the deep night swim + Laugh, saying, "What God is your God, that ye call on him? + What is man, that the God who is guide of our way should care + If day for a man be golden, or night be grim?" + + But thou, dost thou hear? Stars too but abide for a span, + Gods too but endure for a season; but thou, if thou be + God, more than shadows conceived and adored of man, + Kind Gods and fierce, that bound him or made him free, + The skies that scorn us are less in thy sight than we, + Whose souls have strength to conceive and perceive thee, Pan, + With sense more subtle than senses that hear and see. + + Yet may not it say, though it seek thee and think to find + One soul of sense in the fire and the frost-bound clod, + What heart is this, what spirit alive or blind, + That moves thee: only we know that the ways we trod + We tread, with hands unguided, with feet unshod, + With eyes unlightened; and yet, if with steadfast mind, + Perchance may we find thee and know thee at last for God. + + Yet then should God be dark as the dawn is bright, + And bright as the night is dark on the world--no more. + Light slays not darkness, and darkness absorbs not light; + And the labour of evil and good from the years of yore + Is even as the labour of waves on a sunless shore. + And he who is first and last, who is depth and height, + Keeps silence now, as the sun when the woods wax hoar. + + The dark dumb godhead innate in the fair world's life + Imbues the rapture of dawn and of noon with dread, + Infects the peace of the star-shod night with strife, + Informs with terror the sorrow that guards the dead. + No service of bended knee or of humbled head + May soothe or subdue the God who has change to wife: + And life with death is as morning with evening wed. + + And yet, if the light and the life in the light that here + Seem soft and splendid and fervid as sleep may seem + Be more than the shine of a smile or the flash of a tear, + Sleep, change, and death are less than a spell-struck dream, + And fear than the fall of a leaf on a starlit stream. + And yet, if the hope that hath said it absorb not fear, + What helps it man that the stars and the waters gleam? + + What helps it man, that the noon be indeed intense, + The night be indeed worth worship? Fear and pain + Were lords and masters yet of the secret sense, + Which now dares deem not that light is as darkness, fain + Though dark dreams be to declare it, crying in vain. + For whence, thou God of the light and the darkness, whence + Dawns now this vision that bids not the sunbeams wane? + + What light, what shadow, diviner than dawn or night, + Draws near, makes pause, and again--or I dream--draws near? + More soft than shadow, more strong than the strong sun's light, + More pure than moonbeams--yea, but the rays run sheer + As fire from the sun through the dusk of the pinewood, clear + And constant; yea, but the shadow itself is bright + That the light clothes round with love that is one with fear. + + Above and behind it the noon and the woodland lie, + Terrible, radiant with mystery, superb and subdued, + Triumphant in silence; and hardly the sacred sky + Seems free from the tyrannous weight of the dumb fierce mood + Which rules as with fire and invasion of beams that brood + The breathless rapture of earth till its hour pass by + And leave her spirit released and her peace renewed. + + I sleep not: never in sleep has a man beholden + This. From the shadow that trembles and yearns with light + Suppressed and elate and reluctant--obscure and golden + As water kindled with presage of dawn or night-- + A form, a face, a wonder to sense and sight, + Grows great as the moon through the month; and her eyes embolden + Fear, till it change to desire, and desire to delight. + + I sleep not: sleep would die of a dream so strange; + A dream so sweet would die as a rainbow dies, + As a sunbow laughs and is lost on the waves that range + And reck not of light that flickers or spray that flies. + But the sun withdraws not, the woodland shrinks not or sighs, + No sweet thing sickens with sense or with fear of change; + Light wounds not, darkness blinds not, my steadfast eyes. + + Only the soul in my sense that receives the soul + Whence now my spirit is kindled with breathless bliss + Knows well if the light that wounds it with love makes whole, + If hopes that carol be louder than fears that hiss, + If truth be spoken of flowers and of waves that kiss, + Of clouds and stars that contend for a sunbright goal. + And yet may I dream that I dream not indeed of this? + + An earth-born dreamer, constrained by the bonds of birth, + Held fast by the flesh, compelled by his veins that beat + And kindle to rapture or wrath, to desire or to mirth, + May hear not surely the fall of immortal feet, + May feel not surely if heaven upon earth be sweet; + And here is my sense fulfilled of the joys of earth, + Light, silence, bloom, shade, murmur of leaves that meet. + + Bloom, fervour, and perfume of grasses and flowers aglow, + Breathe and brighten about me: the darkness gleams, + The sweet light shivers and laughs on the slopes below, + Made soft by leaves that lighten and change like dreams; + The silence thrills with the whisper of secret streams + That well from the heart of the woodland: these I know: + Earth bore them, heaven sustained them with showers and beams. + + I lean my face to the heather, and drink the sun + Whose flame-lit odour satiates the flowers: mine eyes + Close, and the goal of delight and of life is one: + No more I crave of earth or her kindred skies. + No more? But the joy that springs from them smiles and flies: + The sweet work wrought of them surely, the good work done, + If the mind and the face of the season be loveless, dies. + + Thee, therefore, thee would I come to, cleave to, cling, + If haply thy heart be kind and thy gifts be good, + Unknown sweet spirit, whose vesture is soft in spring, + In summer splendid, in autumn pale as the wood + That shudders and wanes and shrinks as a shamed thing should, + In winter bright as the mail of a war-worn king + Who stands where foes fled far from the face of him stood. + + My spirit or thine is it, breath of thy life or of mine, + Which fills my sense with a rapture that casts out fear? + Pan's dim frown wanes, and his wild eyes brighten as thine, + Transformed as night or as day by the kindling year. + Earth-born, or mine eye were withered that sees, mine ear + That hears were stricken to death by the sense divine, + Earth-born I know thee: but heaven is about me here. + + The terror that whispers in darkness and flames in light, + The doubt that speaks in the silence of earth and sea, + The sense, more fearful at noon than in midmost night, + Of wrath scarce hushed and of imminent ill to be, + Where are they? Heaven is as earth, and as heaven to me + Earth: for the shadows that sundered them here take flight; + And nought is all, as am I, but a dream of thee. + + + + + ON THE SOUTH COAST + + TO THEODORE WATTS + + + Hills and valleys where April rallies his radiant squadron of + flowers and birds, + Steep strange beaches and lustrous reaches of fluctuant sea that + the land engirds, + Fields and downs that the sunrise crowns with life diviner than + lives in words, + + Day by day of resurgent May salute the sun with sublime acclaim, + Change and brighten with hours that lighten and darken, girdled + with cloud or flame; + Earth's fair face in alternate grace beams, blooms, and lowers, and + is yet the same. + + Twice each day the divine sea's play makes glad with glory that + comes and goes + Field and street that her waves keep sweet, when past the bounds of + their old repose, + Fast and fierce in renewed reverse, the foam-flecked estuary ebbs + and flows. + + Broad and bold through the stays of old staked fast with trunks of + the wildwood tree, + Up from shoreward, impelled far forward, by marsh and meadow, by + lawn and lea, + Inland still at her own wild will swells, rolls, and revels the + surging sea. + + Strong as time, and as faith sublime,--clothed round with shadows + of hopes and fears, + Nights and morrows, and joys and sorrows, alive with passion of + prayers and tears,-- + Stands the shrine that has seen decline eight hundred waxing and + waning years. + + Tower set square to the storms of air and change of season that + glooms and glows, + Wall and roof of it tempest-proof, and equal ever to suns and + snows, + Bright with riches of radiant niches and pillars smooth as a + straight stem grows. + + Aisle and nave that the whelming wave of time has whelmed not or + touched or neared, + Arch and vault without stain or fault, by hands of craftsmen we + know not reared, + Time beheld them, and time was quelled; and change passed by them + as one that feared. + + Time that flies as a dream, and dies as dreams that die with the + sleep they feed, + Here alone in a garb of stone incarnate stands as a god indeed, + Stern and fair, and of strength to bear all burdens mortal to man's + frail seed. + + Men and years are as leaves or tears that storm or sorrow is fain + to shed: + These go by as the winds that sigh, and none takes note of them + quick or dead: + Time, whose breath is their birth and death, folds here his + pinions, and bows his head. + + Still the sun that beheld begun the work wrought here of unwearied + hands + Sees, as then, though the Red King's men held ruthless rule over + lawless lands, + Stand their massive design, impassive, pure and proud as a virgin + stands. + + Statelier still as the years fulfil their count, subserving her + sacred state, + Grows the hoary grey church whose story silence utters and age + makes great: + Statelier seems it than shines in dreams the face unveiled of + unvanquished fate. + + Fate, more high than the star-shown sky, more deep than waters + unsounded, shines + Keen and far as the final star on souls that seek not for charms or + signs; + Yet more bright is the love-shown light of men's hands lighted in + songs or shrines. + + Love and trust that the grave's deep dust can soil not, neither may + fear put out, + Witness yet that their record set stands fast, though years be as + hosts in rout, + Spent and slain; but the signs remain that beat back darkness and + cast forth doubt. + + Men that wrought by the grace of thought and toil things goodlier + than praise dare trace, + Fair as all that the world may call most fair, save only the sea's + own face, + Shrines or songs that the world's change wrongs not, live by grace + of their own gift's grace. + + Dead, their names that the night reclaims--alive, their works that + the day relumes-- + Sink and stand, as in stone and sand engraven: none may behold + their tombs: + Nights and days shall record their praise while here this flower of + their grafting blooms. + + Flower more fair than the sun-thrilled air bids laugh and lighten + and wax and rise, + Fruit more bright than the fervent light sustains with strength + from the kindled skies, + Flower and fruit that the deathless root of man's love rears though + the man's name dies. + + Stately stands it, the work of hands unknown of: statelier, afar + and near, + Rise around it the heights that bound our landward gaze from the + seaboard here; + Downs that swerve and aspire, in curve and change of heights that + the dawn holds dear. + + Dawn falls fair on the grey walls there confronting dawn, on the + low green lea, + Lone and sweet as for fairies' feet held sacred, silent and strange + and free, + Wild and wet with its rills; but yet more fair falls dawn on the + fairer sea. + + Eastward, round by the high green bound of hills that fold the + remote fields in, + Strive and shine on the low sea-line fleet waves and beams when the + days begin; + Westward glow, when the days burn low, the sun that yields and the + stars that win. + + Rose-red eve on the seas that heave sinks fair as dawn when the + first ray peers; + Winds are glancing from sunbright Lancing to Shoreham, crowned with + the grace of years; + Shoreham, clad with the sunset, glad and grave with glory that + death reveres. + + Death, more proud than the kings' heads bowed before him, stronger + than all things, bows + Here his head: as if death were dead, and kingship plucked from his + crownless brows, + Life hath here such a face of cheer as change appals not and time + avows. + + Skies fulfilled with the sundown, stilled and splendid, spread as a + flower that spreads, + Pave with rarer device and fairer than heaven's the luminous + oyster-beds, + Grass-embanked, and in square plots ranked, inlaid with gems that + the sundown sheds. + + Squares more bright and with lovelier light than heaven that + kindled it shines with shine + Warm and soft as the dome aloft, but heavenlier yet than the sun's + own shrine: + Heaven is high, but the water-sky lit here seems deeper and more + divine. + + Flowers on flowers, that the whole world's bowers may show not, + here may the sunset show, + Lightly graven in the waters paven with ghostly gold by the clouds + aglow: + Bright as love is the vault above, but lovelier lightens the wave + below. + + Rosy grey, or as fiery spray full-plumed, or greener than emerald, + gleams + Plot by plot as the skies allot for each its glory, divine as + dreams + Lit with fire of appeased desire which sounds the secret of all + that seems; + + Dreams that show what we fain would know, and know not save by the + grace of sleep, + Sleep whose hands have removed the bands that eyes long waking and + fain to weep + Feel fast bound on them--light around them strange, and darkness + above them steep. + + Yet no vision that heals division of love from love, and renews + awhile + Life and breath in the lips where death has quenched the spirit of + speech and smile, + Shows on earth, or in heaven's mid mirth, where no fears enter or + doubts defile, + + Aught more fair than the radiant air and water here by the twilight + wed, + Here made one by the waning sun whose last love quickens to + rosebright red + Half the crown of the soft high down that rears to northward its + wood-girt head. + + There, when day is at height of sway, men's eyes who stand, as we + oft have stood, + High where towers with its world of flowers the golden spinny that + flanks the wood, + See before and around them shore and seaboard glad as their gifts + are good. + + Higher and higher to the north aspire the green smooth-swelling + unending downs; + East and west on the brave earth's breast glow girdle-jewels of + gleaming towns; + Southward shining, the lands declining subside in peace that the + sea's light crowns. + + Westward wide in its fruitful pride the plain lies lordly with + plenteous grace; + Fair as dawn's when the fields and lawns desire her glitters the + glad land's face: + Eastward yet is the sole sign set of elder days and a lordlier + race. + + Down beneath us afar, where seethe in wilder weather the tides + aflow, + Hurled up hither and drawn down thither in quest of rest that they + may not know, + Still as dew on a flower the blue broad stream now sleeps in the + fields below. + + Mild and bland in the fair green land it smiles, and takes to its + heart the sky; + Scarce the meads and the fens, the reeds and grasses, still as they + stand or lie, + Wear the palm of a statelier calm than rests on waters that pass + them by. + + Yet shall these, when the winds and seas of equal days and coequal + nights + Rage, rejoice, and uplift a voice whose sound is even as a sword + that smites, + Felt and heard as a doomsman's word from seaward reaches to + landward heights, + + Lift their heart up, and take their part of triumph, swollen and + strong with rage, + Rage elate with desire and great with pride that tempest and storm + assuage; + So their chime in the ear of time has rung from age to rekindled + age. + + Fair and dear is the land's face here, and fair man's work as a + man's may be: + Dear and fair as the sunbright air is here the record that speaks + him free; + Free by birth of a sacred earth, and regent ever of all the sea. + + + + + AN AUTUMN VISION + + OCTOBER 31, 1889 + + +Zephyrou gigantos aura+ + + + I + + Is it Midsummer here in the heavens that illumine October on earth? + Can the year, when his heart is fulfilled with desire of the days + of his mirth, + Redeem them, recall, or remember? + For a memory recalling the rapture of earth, and redeeming the sky, + Shines down from the heights to the depths: will the watchword of + dawn be July + When to-morrow acclaims November? + The stern salutation of sorrow to death or repentance to shame + Was all that the season was wont to accord her of grace or acclaim; + No lightnings of love and of laughter. + But here, in the laugh of the loud west wind from around and above, + In the flash of the waters beneath him, what sound or what light + but of love + Rings round him or leaps forth after? + + + II + + Wind beloved of earth and sky and sea beyond all winds that blow, + Wind whose might in fight was England's on her mightiest warrior + day, + South-west wind, whose breath for her was life, and fire to scourge + her foe, + Steel to smite and death to drive him down an unreturning way, + Well-beloved and welcome, sounding all the clarions of the sky, + Rolling all the marshalled waters toward the charge that storms + the shore, + We receive, acclaim, salute thee, we who live and dream and die, + As the mightiest mouth of song that ever spake acclaimed of yore. + We that live as they that perish praise thee, lord of cloud and + wave, + Wind of winds, clothed on with darkness whence as lightning light + comes forth, + We that know thee strong to guard and smite, to scatter and to + save, + We to whom the south-west wind is dear as Athens held the north. + He for her waged war as thou for us against all powers defiant, + Fleets full-fraught with storm from Persia, laden deep with death + from Spain: + Thee the giant god of song and battle hailed as god and giant, + Yet not his but ours the land is whence thy praise should ring + and rain; + Rain as rapture shed from song, and ring as trumpets blown for + battle, + Sound and sing before thee, loud and glad as leaps and sinks the + sea: + Yea, the sea's white steeds are curbed and spurred of thee, and + pent as cattle, + Yet they laugh with love and pride to live, subdued not save of + thee. + Ears that hear thee hear in heaven the sound of widening wings + gigantic, + Eyes that see the cloud-lift westward see thy darkening brows + divine; + Wings whose measure is the limit of the limitless Atlantic, + Brows that bend, and bid the sovereign sea submit her soul to + thine. + + + III + + Twelve days since is it--twelve days gone, + Lord of storm, that a storm-bow shone + Higher than sweeps thy sublime dark wing, + Fair as dawn is and sweet like spring? + + Never dawn in the deep wide east + Spread so splendid and strange a feast, + Whence the soul as it drank and fed + Felt such rapture of wonder shed. + + Never spring in the wild wood's heart + Felt such flowers at her footfall start, + Born of earth, as arose on sight + Born of heaven and of storm and light. + + Stern and sullen, the grey grim sea + Swelled and strove as in toils, though free, + Free as heaven, and as heaven sublime, + Clear as heaven of the toils of time. + + + IV + + Suddenly, sheer from the heights to the depths of the sky and the + sea, + Sprang from the darkness alive as a vision of life to be + Glory triune and transcendent of colour afar and afire, + Arching and darkening the darkness with light as of dream or + desire. + Heaven, in the depth of its height, shone wistful and wan from + above: + Earth from beneath, and the sea, shone stricken and breathless with + love. + As a shadow may shine, so shone they; as ghosts of the viewless + blest, + That sleep hath sight of alive in a rapture of sunbright rest, + The green earth glowed and the grey sky gleamed for a wondrous + while; + And the storm's full frown was crossed by the light of its own deep + smile. + As the darkness of thought and of passion is touched by the light + that gives + Life deathless as love from the depth of a spirit that sees and + lives, + From the soul of a seer and a singer, wherein as a scroll unfurled + Lies open the scripture of light and of darkness, the word of the + world, + So, shapeless and measureless, lurid as anguish and haggard as + crime, + Pale as the front of oblivion and dark as the heart of time, + The wild wan heaven at its height was assailed and subdued and made + More fair than the skies that know not of storm and endure not + shade. + The grim sea-swell, grey, sleepless, and sad as a soul estranged, + Shone, smiled, took heart, and was glad of its wrath: and the + world's face changed. + + + V + + Up from moorlands northward gleaming + Even to heaven's transcendent height, + Clothed with massive cloud, and seeming + All one fortress reared of night, + Down to where the deep sea, dreaming + Angry dreams, lay dark and white, + White as death and dark as fate, + Heaving with the strong wind's weight, + Sad with stormy pride of state, + One full rainbow shone elate. + + Up from inmost memory's dwelling + Where the light of life abides, + Where the past finds tongue, foretelling + Time that comes and grace that guides, + Power that saves and sways, compelling + Souls that ebb and flow like tides, + Shone or seemed to shine and swim + Through the cloud-surf great and grim, + Thought's live surge, the soul of him + By whose light the sun looks dim. + + In what synod were they sitting, + All the gods and lords of time, + Whence they watched as fen-fires flitting + Years and names of men sublime, + When their counsels found it fitting + One should stand where none might climb-- + None of man begotten, none + Born of men beneath the sun + Till the race of time be run, + Save this heaven-enfranchised one? + + With what rapture of creation + Was the soul supernal thrilled, + With what pride of adoration + Was the world's heart fired and filled, + Heaved in heavenward exaltation + Higher than hopes or dreams might build, + Grave with awe not known while he + Was not, mad with glorious glee + As the sun-saluted sea, + When his hour bade Shakespeare be? + + + VI + + There, clear as night beholds her crowning seven, + The sea beheld his likeness set in heaven. + The shadow of his spirit full in sight + Shone: for the shadow of that soul is light. + Nor heaven alone bore witness: earth avowed + Him present, and acclaimed of storm aloud. + From the arching sky to the ageless hills and sea + The whole world, visible, audible, was he: + Each part of all that wove that wondrous whole + The raiment of the presence of his soul. + The sun that smote and kissed the dark to death + Spake, smiled, and strove, like song's triumphant breath; + The soundless cloud whose thunderous heart was dumb + Swelled, lowered, and shrank to feel its conqueror come. + Yet high from heaven its empire vast and vain + Frowned, and renounced not night's reluctant reign. + The serpentine swift sounds and shapes wherein + The stainless sea mocks earth and death and sin, + Crawls dark as craft, or flashes keen as hate, + Subdued and insubmissive, strong like fate + And weak like man, bore wrathful witness yet + That storms and sins are more than suns that set; + That evil everlasting, girt for strife + Eternal, wars with hope as death with life. + The dark sharp shifting wind that bade the waves + Falter, lose heart, bow down like foes made slaves, + And waxed within more bitter as they bowed, + Baffling the sea, swallowing the sun with cloud, + Devouring fast as fire on earth devours + And hungering hard as frost that feeds on flowers, + Clothed round with fog that reeked as fume from hell, + And darkening with its miscreative spell + Light, glad and keen and splendid as the sword + Whose heft had known Othello's hand its lord, + Spake all the soul that hell drew back to greet + And felt its fire shrink shuddering from his feet. + Far off the darkness darkened, and recoiled, + And neared again, and triumphed: and the coiled + Colourless cloud and sea discoloured grew + Conscious of horror huge as heaven, and knew + Where Goneril's soul made chill and foul the mist, + And all the leprous life in Regan hissed. + Fierce homeless ghosts, rejected of the pit, + From hell to hell of storm fear watched them flit. + About them and before, the dull grey gloom + Shuddered, and heaven seemed hateful as the tomb + That shrinks from resurrection; and from out + That sullen hell which girt their shades about + The nether soul that lurks and lowers within + Man, made of dust and fire and shame and sin, + Breathed: all the cloud that felt it breathe and blight + Was blue as plague or black as thunderous night. + Elect of hell, the children of his hate + Thronged, as to storm sweet heaven's triumphal gate. + The terror of his giving rose and shone + Imminent: life had put its likeness on. + But higher than all its horrent height of shade + Shone sovereign, seen by light itself had made, + Above the woes of all the world, above + Life, sin, and death, his myriad-minded love. + From landward heights whereon the radiance leant + Full-fraught from heaven, intense and imminent, + To depths wherein the seething strengths of cloud + Scarce matched the wrath of waves whereon they bowed, + From homeborn pride and kindling love of home + To the outer skies and seas of fire and foam, + From splendour soft as dew that sundawn thrills + To gloom that shudders round the world it fills, + From midnights murmuring round Titania's ear + To midnights maddening round the rage of Lear, + The wonder woven of storm and sun became + One with the light that lightens from his name. + The music moving on the sea that felt + The storm-wind even as snows of springtide melt + Was blithe as Ariel's hand or voice might make + And bid all grief die gladly for its sake. + And there the soul alive in ear and eye + That watched the wonders of an hour pass by + Saw brighter than all stars that heaven inspheres + The silent splendour of Cordelia's tears, + Felt in the whispers of the quickening wind + The radiance of the laugh of Rosalind, + And heard, in sounds that melt the souls of men + With love of love, the tune of Imogen. + + + VII + + For the strong north-east is not strong to subdue and to slay the + divine south-west, + And the darkness is less than the light that it darkens, and dies + in reluctant rest. + It hovers and hangs on the labouring and trembling ascent of the + dawn from the deep, + Till the sun's eye quicken the world and the waters, and smite it + again into sleep. + Night, holy and starry, the fostress of souls, with the fragrance + of heaven in her breath, + Subdues with the sense of her godhead the forces and mysteries of + sorrow and death. + Eternal as dawn's is the comfort she gives: but the mist that + beleaguers and slays + Comes, passes, and is not: the strength of it withers, appalled or + assuaged by the day's. + Faith, haggard as Fear that had borne her, and dark as the sire + that begat her, Despair, + Held rule on the soul of the world and the song of it saddening + through ages that were; + Dim centuries that darkened and brightened and darkened again, and + the soul of their song + Was great as their grief, and sublime as their suffering, and + strong as their sorrows were strong. + It knew not, it saw not, but shadows triune, and evoked by the + strength of their spell + Dark hell, and the mountain of anguish, and heaven that was + hollower and harder than hell. + These are not: the womb of the darkness that bare them rejects + them, and knows them no more: + Thought, fettered in misery and iron, revives in the light that it + lived in of yore. + For the soul that is wisdom and freedom, the spirit of England + redeemed from her past, + Speaks life through the lips of the master and lord of her + children, the first and the last. + Thought, touched by his hand and redeemed by his breath, sees, + hears, and accepts from above + The limitless lightnings of vision and passion, the measureless + music of love. + + + + + A SWIMMER'S DREAM + + NOVEMBER 4, 1889 + + _Somno mollior unda_ + + + I + + Dawn is dim on the dark soft water, + Soft and passionate, dark and sweet. + Love's own self was the deep sea's daughter, + Fair and flawless from face to feet, + Hailed of all when the world was golden, + Loved of lovers whose names beholden + Thrill men's eyes as with light of olden + Days more glad than their flight was fleet. + + So they sang: but for men that love her, + Souls that hear not her word in vain, + Earth beside her and heaven above her + Seem but shadows that wax and wane. + Softer than sleep's are the sea's caresses, + Kinder than love's that betrays and blesses, + Blither than spring's when her flowerful tresses + Shake forth sunlight and shine with rain. + + All the strength of the waves that perish + Swells beneath me and laughs and sighs, + Sighs for love of the life they cherish, + Laughs to know that it lives and dies, + Dies for joy of its life, and lives + Thrilled with joy that its brief death gives-- + Death whose laugh or whose breath forgives + Change that bids it subside and rise. + + + II + + Hard and heavy, remote but nearing, + Sunless hangs the severe sky's weight, + Cloud on cloud, though the wind be veering + Heaped on high to the sundawn's gate. + Dawn and even and noon are one, + Veiled with vapour and void of sun; + Nought in sight or in fancied hearing + Now less mighty than time or fate. + + The grey sky gleams and the grey seas glimmer, + Pale and sweet as a dream's delight, + As a dream's where darkness and light seem dimmer, + Touched by dawn or subdued by night. + The dark wind, stern and sublime and sad, + Swings the rollers to westward, clad + With lustrous shadow that lures the swimmer, + Lures and lulls him with dreams of light. + + Light, and sleep, and delight, and wonder, + Change, and rest, and a charm of cloud, + Fill the world of the skies whereunder + Heaves and quivers and pants aloud + All the world of the waters, hoary + Now, but clothed with its own live glory, + That mates the lightning and mocks the thunder + With light more living and word more proud. + + + III + + Far off westward, whither sets the sounding strife, + Strife more sweet than peace, of shoreless waves whose glee + Scorns the shore and loves the wind that leaves them free, + Strange as sleep and pale as death and fair as life, + Shifts the moonlight-coloured sunshine on the sea. + + Toward the sunset's goal the sunless waters crowd, + Fast as autumn days toward winter: yet it seems + Here that autumn wanes not, here that woods and streams + Lose not heart and change not likeness, chilled and bowed, + Warped and wrinkled: here the days are fair as dreams. + + + IV + + O russet-robed November, + What ails thee so to smile? + Chill August, pale September, + Endured a woful while, + And fell as falls an ember + From forth a flameless pile: + But golden-girt November + Bids all she looks on smile. + + The lustrous foliage, waning + As wanes the morning moon, + Here falling, here refraining, + Outbraves the pride of June + With statelier semblance, feigning + No fear lest death be soon: + As though the woods thus waning + Should wax to meet the moon. + + As though, when fields lie stricken + By grey December's breath, + These lordlier growths that sicken + And die for fear of death + Should feel the sense requicken + That hears what springtide saith + And thrills for love, spring-stricken + And pierced with April's breath. + + The keen white-winged north-easter + That stings and spurs thy sea + Doth yet but feed and feast her + With glowing sense of glee: + Calm chained her, storm released her, + And storm's glad voice was he: + South-wester or north-easter, + Thy winds rejoice the sea. + + + V + + A dream, a dream is it all--the season, + The sky, the water, the wind, the shore? + A day-born dream of divine unreason, + A marvel moulded of sleep--no more? + For the cloudlike wave that my limbs while cleaving + Feel as in slumber beneath them heaving + Soothes the sense as to slumber, leaving + Sense of nought that was known of yore. + + A purer passion, a lordlier leisure, + A peace more happy than lives on land, + Fulfils with pulse of diviner pleasure + The dreaming head and the steering hand. + I lean my cheek to the cold grey pillow, + The deep soft swell of the full broad billow, + And close mine eyes for delight past measure, + And wish the wheel of the world would stand. + + The wild-winged hour that we fain would capture + Falls as from heaven that its light feet clomb, + So brief, so soft, and so full the rapture + Was felt that soothed me with sense of home. + To sleep, to swim, and to dream, for ever-- + Such joy the vision of man saw never; + For here too soon will a dark day sever + The sea-bird's wing from the sea-wave's foam. + + A dream, and more than a dream, and dimmer + At once and brighter than dreams that flee, + The moment's joy of the seaward swimmer + Abides, remembered as truth may be. + Not all the joy and not all the glory + Must fade as leaves when the woods wax hoary; + For there the downs and the sea-banks glimmer, + And here to south of them swells the sea. + + + + + GRACE DARLING + + + Take, O star of all our seas, from not an alien hand, + Homage paid of song bowed down before thy glory's face, + Thou the living light of all our lovely stormy strand, + Thou the brave north-country's very glory of glories, Grace. + + Loud and dark about the lighthouse rings and glares the night; + Glares with foam-lit gloom and darkling fire of storm and spray, + Rings with roar of winds in chase and rage of waves in flight, + Howls and hisses as with mouths of snakes and wolves at bay. + Scarce the cliffs of the islets, scarce the walls of Joyous Gard, + Flash to sight between the deadlier lightnings of the sea: + Storm is lord and master of a midnight evil-starred, + Nor may sight or fear discern what evil stars may be. + Dark as death and white as snow the sea-swell scowls and shines, + Heaves and yearns and pants for prey, from ravening lip to lip, + Strong in rage of rapturous anguish, lines on hurtling lines, + Ranks on charging ranks, that break and rend the battling ship. + All the night is mad and murderous: who shall front the night? + Not the prow that labours, helpless as a storm-blown leaf, + Where the rocks and waters, darkling depth and beetling height, + Rage with wave on shattering wave and thundering reef on reef. + Death is fallen upon the prisoners there of darkness, bound + Like as thralls with links of iron fast in bonds of doom; + How shall any way to break the bands of death be found, + Any hand avail to pluck them from that raging tomb? + All the night is great with child of death: no stars above + Show them hope in heaven, no lights from shores ward help on + earth. + Is there help or hope to seaward, is there help in love, + Hope in pity, where the ravening hounds of storm make mirth? + Where the light but shows the naked eyeless face of Death + Nearer, laughing dumb and grim across the loud live storm? + Not in human heart or hand or speech of human breath, + Surely, nor in saviours found of mortal face or form. + Yet below the light, between the reefs, a skiff shot out + Seems a sea-bird fain to breast and brave the strait fierce pass + Whence the channelled roar of waters driven in raging rout, + Pent and pressed and maddened, speaks their monstrous might and + mass. + Thunder heaves and howls about them, lightning leaps and flashes, + Hard at hand, not high in heaven, but close between the walls + Heaped and hollowed of the storms of old, whence reels and crashes + All the rage of all the unbaffled wave that breaks and falls. + Who shall thwart the madness and the gladness of it, laden + Full with heavy fate, and joyous as the birds that whirl? + Nought in heaven or earth, if not one mortal-moulded maiden, + Nought if not the soul that glorifies a northland girl. + Not the rocks that break may baffle, not the reefs that thwart + Stay the ravenous rapture of the waves that crowd and leap; + Scarce their flashing laughter shows the hunger of their heart, + Scarce their lion-throated roar the wrath at heart they keep. + Child and man and woman in the grasp of death clenched fast + Tremble, clothed with darkness round about, and scarce draw + breath, + Scarce lift eyes up toward the light that saves not, scarce may + cast + Thought or prayer up, caught and trammelled in the snare of + death. + Not as sea-mews cling and laugh or sun their plumes and sleep + Cling and cower the wild night's waifs of shipwreck, blind with + fear, + Where the fierce reef scarce yields foothold that a bird might + keep, + And the clamorous darkness deadens eye and deafens ear. + Yet beyond their helpless hearing, out of hopeless sight, + Saviours, armed and girt upon with strength of heart, fare forth, + Sire and daughter, hand on oar and face against the night, + Maid and man whose names are beacons ever to the North. + Nearer now; but all the madness of the storming surf + Hounds and roars them back; but roars and hounds them back in + vain: + As a pleasure-skiff may graze the lake-embanking turf, + So the boat that bears them grates the rock where-toward they + strain. + Dawn as fierce and haggard as the face of night scarce guides + Toward the cries that rent and clove the darkness, crying for + aid, + Hours on hours, across the engorged reluctance of the tides, + Sire and daughter, high-souled man and mightier-hearted maid. + Not the bravest land that ever breasted war's grim sea, + Hurled her foes back harried on the lowlands whence they came, + Held her own and smote her smiters down, while such durst be, + Shining northward, shining southward, as the aurorean flame, + Not our mother, not Northumberland, brought ever forth, + Though no southern shore may match the sons that kiss her mouth, + Children worthier all the birthright given of the ardent north + Where the fire of hearts outburns the suns that fire the south. + Even such fire was this that lit them, not from lowering skies + Where the darkling dawn flagged, stricken in the sun's own + shrine, + Down the gulf of storm subsiding, till their earnest eyes + Find the relics of the ravening night that spared but nine. + Life by life the man redeems them, head by storm-worn head, + While the girl's hand stays the boat whereof the waves are fain: + Ah, but woe for one, the mother clasping fast her dead! + Happier, had the surges slain her with her children slain. + Back they bear, and bring between them safe the woful nine, + Where above the ravenous Hawkers fixed at watch for prey + Storm and calm behold the Longstone's towering signal shine + Now as when that labouring night brought forth a shuddering day. + Now as then, though like the hounds of storm against her snarling + All the clamorous years between us storm down many a fame, + As our sires beheld before us we behold Grace Darling + Crowned and throned our queen, and as they hailed we hail her + name. + Nay, not ours alone, her kinsfolk born, though chiefliest ours, + East and west and south acclaim her queen of England's maids, + Star more sweet than all their stars and flower than all their + flowers, + Higher in heaven and earth than star that sets or flower that + fades. + How should land or sea that nurtured her forget, or love + Hold not fast her fame for us while aught is borne in mind? + Land and sea beneath us, sun and moon and stars above, + Bear the bright soul witness, seen of all but souls born blind. + Stars and moon and sun may wax and wane, subside and rise, + Age on age as flake on flake of showering snows be shed: + Not till earth be sunless, not till death strike blind the skies, + May the deathless love that waits on deathless deeds be dead. + + Years on years have withered since beside the hearth once thine + I, too young to have seen thee, touched thy father's hallowed + hand: + Thee and him shall all men see for ever, stars that shine + While the sea that spared thee girds and glorifies the land. + + + + + LOCH TORRIDON + + TO E. H. + + + The dawn of night more fair than morning rose, + Stars hurrying forth on stars, as snows on snows + Haste when the wind and winter bid them speed. + Vague miles of moorland road behind us lay + Scarce traversed ere the day + Sank, and the sun forsook us at our need, + Belated. Where we thought to have rested, rest + Was none; for soft Maree's dim quivering breast, + Bound round with gracious inland girth of green + And fearless of the wild wave-wandering West, + Shone shelterless for strangers; and unseen + The goal before us lay + Of all our blithe and strange and strenuous day. + + For when the northering road faced westward--when + The dark sharp sudden gorge dropped seaward--then, + Beneath the stars, between the steeps, the track + We followed, lighted not of moon or sun, + And plunging whither none + Might guess, while heaven and earth were hoar and black, + Seemed even the dim still pass whence none turns back: + And through the twilight leftward of the way, + And down the dark, with many a laugh and leap, + The light blithe hill-streams shone from scaur to steep + In glittering pride of play; + And ever while the night grew great and deep + We felt but saw not what the hills would keep + Sacred awhile from sense of moon or star; + And full and far + Beneath us, sweet and strange as heaven may be, + The sea. + + The very sea: no mountain-moulded lake + Whose fluctuant shapeliness is fain to take + Shape from the steadfast shore that rules it round, + And only from the storms a casual sound: + The sea, that harbours in her heart sublime + The supreme heart of music deep as time, + And in her spirit strong + The spirit of all imaginable song. + + Not a whisper or lisp from the waters: the skies were not silenter. + Peace + Was between them; a passionless rapture of respite as soft as + release. + Not a sound, but a sense that possessed and pervaded with patient + delight + The soul and the body, clothed round with the comfort of limitless + night. + Night infinite, living, adorable, loved of the land and the sea: + Night, mother of mercies, who saith to the spirits in prison, Be + free. + And softer than dewfall, and kindlier than starlight, and keener + than wine, + Came round us the fragrance of waters, the life of the breath of + the brine. + We saw not, we heard not, the face or the voice of the waters: we + knew + By the darkling delight of the wind as the sense of the sea in it + grew, + By the pulse of the darkness about us enkindled and quickened, that + here, + Unseen and unheard of us, surely the goal we had faith in was near. + A silence diviner than music, a darkness diviner than light, + Fulfilled as from heaven with a measureless comfort the measure of + night. + + But never a roof for shelter + And never a sign for guide + Rose doubtful or visible: only + And hardly and gladly we heard + The soft waves whisper and welter, + Subdued, and allured to subside, + By the mild night's magic: the lonely + Sweet silence was soothed, not stirred, + By the noiseless noise of the gleaming + Glad ripples, that played and sighed, + Kissed, laughed, recoiled, and relented, + Whispered, flickered, and fled. + No season was this for dreaming + How oft, with a stormier tide, + Had the wrath of the winds been vented + On sons of the tribes long dead: + The tribes whom time, and the changes + Of things, and the stress of doom, + Have erased and effaced; forgotten + As wrecks or weeds of the shore + In sight of the stern hill-ranges + That hardly may change their gloom + When the fruits of the years wax rotten + And the seed of them springs no more. + For the dim strait footway dividing + The waters that breathed below + Led safe to the kindliest of shelters + That ever awoke into light: + And still in remembrance abiding + Broods over the stars that glow + And the water that eddies and welters + The passionate peace of the night. + + All night long, in the world of sleep, + Skies and waters were soft and deep: + Shadow clothed them, and silence made + Soundless music of dream and shade: + All above us, the livelong night, + Shadow, kindled with sense of light; + All around us, the brief night long, + Silence, laden with sense of song. + Stars and mountains without, we knew, + Watched and waited, the soft night through: + All unseen, but divined and dear, + Thrilled the touch of the sea's breath near: + All unheard, but alive like sound, + Throbbed the sense of the sea's life round: + Round us, near us, in depth and height, + Soft as darkness and keen as light. + + And the dawn leapt in at my casement: and there, as I rose, at my + feet + No waves of the landlocked waters, no lake submissive and sweet, + Soft slave of the lordly seasons, whose breath may loose it or + freeze; + But to left and to right and ahead was the ripple whose pulse is + the sea's. + From the gorge we had travelled by starlight the sunrise, winged + and aflame, + Shone large on the live wide wavelets that shuddered with joy as it + came; + As it came and caressed and possessed them, till panting and + laughing with light + From mountain to mountain the water was kindled and stung to + delight. + And the grey gaunt heights that embraced and constrained and + compelled it were glad, + And the rampart of rock, stark naked, that thwarted and barred it, + was clad + With a stern grey splendour of sunrise: and scarce had I sprung to + the sea + When the dawn and the water were wedded, the hills and the sky set + free. + The chain of the night was broken: the waves that embraced me and + smiled + And flickered and fawned in the sunlight, alive, unafraid, + undefiled, + Were sweeter to swim in than air, though fulfilled with the + mounting morn, + Could be for the birds whose triumph rejoiced that a day was born. + + And a day was arisen indeed for us. Years and the changes of years + Clothed round with their joys and their sorrows, and dead as their + hopes and their fears, + Lie noteless and nameless, unlit by remembrance or record of days + Worth wonder or memory, or cursing or blessing, or passion or + praise, + Between us who live and forget not, but yearn with delight in it + yet, + And the day we forget not, and never may live and may think to + forget. + And the years that were kindlier and fairer, and kindled with + pleasures as keen, + Have eclipsed not with lights or with shadows the light on the face + of it seen. + For softly and surely, as nearer the boat that we gazed from drew, + The face of the precipice opened and bade us as birds pass through, + And the bark shot sheer to the sea through the strait of the sharp + steep cleft, + The portal that opens with imminent rampires to right and to left, + Sublime as the sky they darken and strange as a spell-struck dream, + On the world unconfined of the mountains, the reign of the sea + supreme, + The kingdom of westward waters, wherein when we swam we knew + The waves that we clove were boundless, the wind on our brows that + blew + Had swept no land and no lake, and had warred not on tower or on + tree, + But came on us hard out of heaven, and alive with the soul of the + sea. + + + + + THE PALACE OF PAN + + INSCRIBED TO MY MOTHER + + + September, all glorious with gold, as a king + In the radiance of triumph attired, + Outlightening the summer, outsweetening the spring, + Broods wide on the woodlands with limitless wing, + A presence of all men desired. + + Far eastward and westward the sun-coloured lands + Smile warm as the light on them smiles; + And statelier than temples upbuilded with hands, + Tall column by column, the sanctuary stands + Of the pine-forest's infinite aisles. + + Mute worship, too fervent for praise or for prayer, + Possesses the spirit with peace, + Fulfilled with the breath of the luminous air, + The fragrance, the silence, the shadows as fair + As the rays that recede or increase. + + Ridged pillars that redden aloft and aloof, + With never a branch for a nest, + Sustain the sublime indivisible roof, + To the storm and the sun in his majesty proof, + And awful as waters at rest. + + Man's hand hath not measured the height of them; thought + May measure not, awe may not know; + In its shadow the woofs of the woodland are wrought; + As a bird is the sun in the toils of them caught, + And the flakes of it scattered as snow. + + As the shreds of a plumage of gold on the ground + The sun-flakes by multitudes lie, + Shed loose as the petals of roses discrowned + On the floors of the forest engilt and embrowned + And reddened afar and anigh. + + Dim centuries with darkling inscrutable hands + Have reared and secluded the shrine + For gods that we know not, and kindled as brands + On the altar the years that are dust, and their sands + Time's glass has forgotten for sign. + + A temple whose transepts are measured by miles, + Whose chancel has morning for priest, + Whose floor-work the foot of no spoiler defiles, + Whose musical silence no music beguiles, + No festivals limit its feast. + + The noon's ministration, the night's and the dawn's, + Conceals not, reveals not for man, + On the slopes of the herbless and blossomless lawns, + Some track of a nymph's or some trail of a faun's + To the place of the slumber of Pan. + + Thought, kindled and quickened by worship and wonder + To rapture too sacred for fear + On the ways that unite or divide them in sunder, + Alone may discern if about them or under + Be token or trace of him here. + + With passionate awe that is deeper than panic + The spirit subdued and unshaken + Takes heed of the godhead terrene and Titanic + Whose footfall is felt on the breach of volcanic + Sharp steeps that their fire has forsaken. + + By a spell more serene than the dim necromantic + Dead charms of the past and the night, + Or the terror that lurked in the noon to make frantic + Where Etna takes shape from the limbs of gigantic + Dead gods disanointed of might, + + The spirit made one with the spirit whose breath + Makes noon in the woodland sublime + Abides as entranced in a presence that saith + Things loftier than life and serener than death, + Triumphant and silent as time. + + PINE RIDGE: _September 1893_ + + + + + A YEAR'S CAROLS + + + JANUARY + + Hail, January, that bearest here + On snowbright breasts the babe-faced year + That weeps and trembles to be born. + Hail, maid and mother, strong and bright, + Hooded and cloaked and shod with white, + Whose eyes are stars that match the morn. + Thy forehead braves the storm's bent bow, + Thy feet enkindle stars of snow. + + + FEBRUARY + + Wan February with weeping cheer, + Whose cold hand guides the youngling year + Down misty roads of mire and rime, + Before thy pale and fitful face + The shrill wind shifts the clouds apace + Through skies the morning scarce may climb. + Thine eyes are thick with heavy tears, + But lit with hopes that light the year's. + + + MARCH + + Hail, happy March, whose foot on earth + Rings as the blast of martial mirth + When trumpets fire men's hearts for fray. + No race of wild things winged or finned + May match the might that wings thy wind + Through air and sea, through scud and spray. + Strong joy and thou were powers twin-born + Of tempest and the towering morn. + + + APRIL + + Crowned April, king whose kiss bade earth + Bring forth to time her lordliest birth + When Shakespeare from thy lips drew breath + And laughed to hold in one soft hand + A spell that bade the world's wheel stand, + And power on life, and power on death, + With quiring suns and sunbright showers + Praise him, the flower of all thy flowers. + + + MAY + + Hail, May, whose bark puts forth full-sailed + For summer; May, whom Chaucer hailed + With all his happy might of heart, + And gave thy rosebright daisy-tips + Strange fragrance from his amorous lips + That still thine own breath seems to part + And sweeten till each word they say + Is even a flower of flowering May. + + + JUNE + + Strong June, superb, serene, elate + With conscience of thy sovereign state + Untouched of thunder, though the storm + Scathe here and there thy shuddering skies + And bid its lightning cross thine eyes + With fire, thy golden hours inform + Earth and the souls of men with life + That brings forth peace from shining strife. + + + JULY + + Hail, proud July, whose fervent mouth + Bids even be morn and north be south + By grace and gospel of thy word, + Whence all the splendour of the sea + Lies breathless with delight in thee + And marvel at the music heard + From the ardent silent lips of noon + And midnight's rapturous plenilune. + + + AUGUST + + Great August, lord of golden lands, + Whose lordly joy through seas and strands + And all the red-ripe heart of earth + Strikes passion deep as life, and stills + The folded vales and folding hills + With gladness too divine for mirth, + The gracious glories of thine eyes + Make night a noon where darkness dies. + + + SEPTEMBER + + Hail, kind September, friend whose grace + Renews the bland year's bounteous face + With largess given of corn and wine + Through many a land that laughs with love + Of thee and all the heaven above, + More fruitful found than all save thine + Whose skies fulfil with strenuous cheer + The fervent fields that knew thee near. + + + OCTOBER + + October of the tawny crown, + Whose heavy-laden hands drop down + Blessing, the bounties of thy breath + And mildness of thy mellowing might + Fill earth and heaven with love and light + Too sweet for fear to dream of death + Or memory, while thy joy lives yet, + To know what joy would fain forget. + + + NOVEMBER + + Hail, soft November, though thy pale + Sad smile rebuke the words that hail + Thy sorrow with no sorrowing words + Or gratulate thy grief with song + Less bitter than the winds that wrong + Thy withering woodlands, where the birds + Keep hardly heart to sing or see + How fair thy faint wan face may be. + + + DECEMBER + + December, thou whose hallowing hands + On shuddering seas and hardening lands + Set as a sacramental sign + The seal of Christmas felt on earth + As witness toward a new year's birth + Whose promise makes thy death divine, + The crowning joy that comes of thee + Makes glad all grief on land or sea. + + + + + ENGLAND: AN ODE + + + I + + Sea and strand, and a lordlier land than sea-tides rolling and + rising sun + Clasp and lighten in climes that brighten with day when day that + was here is done, + Call aloud on their children, proud with trust that future and past + are one. + + Far and near from the swan's nest here the storm-birds bred of her + fair white breast, + Sons whose home was the sea-wave's foam, have borne the fame of her + east and west; + North and south has the storm-wind's mouth rung praise of England + and England's quest. + + Fame, wherever her flag flew, never forbore to fly with an equal + wing: + France and Spain with their warrior train bowed down before her as + thrall to king; + India knelt at her feet, and felt her sway more fruitful of life + than spring. + + Darkness round them as iron bound fell off from races of elder + name, + Slain at sight of her eyes, whose light bids freedom lighten and + burn as flame; + Night endures not the touch that cures of kingship tyrants, and + slaves of shame. + + All the terror of time, where error and fear were lords of a world + of slaves, + Age on age in resurgent rage and anguish darkening as waves on + waves, + Fell or fled from a face that shed such grace as quickens the dust + of graves. + + Things of night at her glance took flight: the strengths of + darkness recoiled and sank: + Sank the fires of the murderous pyres whereon wild agony writhed + and shrank: + Rose the light of the reign of right from gulfs of years that the + darkness drank. + + Yet the might of her wings in flight, whence glory lightens and + music rings, + Loud and bright as the dawn's, shall smite and still the discord of + evil things, + Yet not slain by her radiant reign, but darkened now by her + sail-stretched wings. + + + II + + Music made of change and conquest, glory born of evil slain, + Stilled the discord, slew the darkness, bade the lights of tempest + wane, + Where the deathless dawn of England rose in sign that right should + reign. + + Mercy, where the tiger wallowed mad and blind with blood and lust, + Justice, where the jackal yelped and fed, and slaves allowed it + just, + Rose as England's light on Asia rose, and smote them down to dust. + + Justice bright as mercy, mercy girt by justice with her sword, + Smote and saved and raised and ruined, till the tyrant-ridden horde + Saw the lightning fade from heaven and knew the sun for God and + lord. + + Where the footfall sounds of England, where the smile of England + shines, + Rings the tread and laughs the face of freedom, fair as hope + divines + Days to be, more brave than ours and lit by lordlier stars for + signs. + + All our past acclaims our future: Shakespeare's voice and Nelson's + hand, + Milton's faith and Wordsworth's trust in this our chosen and + chainless land, + Bear us witness: come the world against her, England yet shall + stand. + + Earth and sea bear England witness if he lied who said it; he + Whom the winds that ward her, waves that clasp, and herb and flower + and tree + Fed with English dews and sunbeams, hail as more than man may be. + + No man ever spake as he that bade our England be but true, + Keep but faith with England fast and firm, and none should bid her + rue; + None may speak as he: but all may know the sign that Shakespeare + knew. + + + III + + From the springs of the dawn, from the depths of the noon, from the + heights of the night that shine, + Hope, faith, and remembrance of glory that found but in England her + throne and her shrine, + Speak louder than song may proclaim them, that here is the seal of + them set for a sign. + + And loud as the sea's voice thunders applause of the land that is + one with the sea + Speaks Time in the ear of the people that never at heart was not + inly free + The word of command that assures us of life, if we will but that + life shall be; + + If the race that is first of the races of men who behold unashamed + the sun + Stand fast and forget not the sign that is given of the years and + the wars that are done, + The token that all who are born of its blood should in heart as in + blood be one. + + The word of remembrance that lightens as fire from the steeps of + the storm-lit past + Bids only the faith of our fathers endure in us, firm as they held + it fast: + That the glory which was from the first upon England alone may + endure to the last. + + That the love and the hate may change not, the faith may not fade, + nor the wrath nor scorn, + That shines for her sons and that burns for her foemen as fire of + the night or the morn: + That the births of her womb may forget not the sign of the glory + wherein they were born. + + A light that is more than the sunlight, an air that is brighter + than morning's breath, + Clothes England about as the strong sea clasps her, and answers the + word that it saith; + The word that assures her of life if she change not, and choose not + the ways of death. + + Change darkens and lightens around her, alternate in hope and in + fear to be: + Hope knows not if fear speak truth, nor fear whether hope be not + blind as she: + But the sun is in heaven that beholds her immortal, and girdled + with life by the sea. + + + + + ETON: AN ODE + + FOR THE FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THE FOUNDATION + OF THE COLLEGE + + + I + + Four hundred summers and fifty have shone on the meadows of Thames + and died + Since Eton arose in an age that was darkness, and shone by his + radiant side + As a star that the spell of a wise man's word bade live and ascend + and abide. + + And ever as time's flow brightened, a river more dark than the + storm-clothed sea, + And age upon age rose fairer and larger in promise of hope set + free, + With England Eton her child kept pace as a fostress of men to be. + + And ever as earth waxed wiser, and softer the beating of time's + wide wings, + Since fate fell dark on her father, most hapless and gentlest of + star-crossed kings, + Her praise has increased as the chant of the dawn that the choir of + the noon outsings. + + + II + + Storm and cloud in the skies were loud, and lightning mocked at the + blind sun's light; + War and woe on the land below shed heavier shadow than falls from + night; + Dark was earth at her dawn of birth as here her record of praise is + bright. + + Clear and fair through her morning air the light first laugh of the + sunlit stage + Rose and rang as a fount that sprang from depths yet dark with a + spent storm's rage, + Loud and glad as a boy's, and bade the sunrise open on + Shakespeare's age. + + Lords of state and of war, whom fate found strong in battle, in + counsel strong, + Here, ere fate had approved them great, abode their season, and + thought not long: + Here too first was the lark's note nursed that filled and flooded + the skies with song. + + + III + + Shelley, lyric lord of England's lordliest singers, here first + heard + Ring from lips of poets crowned and dead the Promethean word + Whence his soul took fire, and power to outsoar the sunward-soaring + bird. + + Still the reaches of the river, still the light on field and hill, + Still the memories held aloft as lamps for hope's young fire to + fill, + Shine, and while the light of England lives shall shine for England + still. + + When four hundred more and fifty years have risen and shone and + set, + Bright with names that men remember, loud with names that men + forget, + Haply here shall Eton's record be what England finds it yet. + + + + + THE UNION + + + I + + Three in one, but one in three, + God, who girt her with the sea, + Bade our Commonweal to be: + Nought, if now not one. + Though fraud and fear would sever + The bond assured for ever, + Their shameful strength shall never + Undo what heaven has done. + + + II + + South and North and West and East + Watch the ravens flock to feast, + Dense as round some death-struck beast, + Black as night is black. + Stand fast as faith together + In stress of treacherous weather + When hounds and wolves break tether + And Treason guides the pack. + + + III + + Lovelier than thy seas are strong, + Glorious Ireland, sword and song + Gird and crown thee: none may wrong, + Save thy sons alone. + The sea that laughs around us + Hath sundered not but bound us: + The sun's first rising found us + Throned on its equal throne. + + + IV + + North and South and East and West, + All true hearts that wish thee best + Beat one tune and own one quest, + Staunch and sure as steel. + God guard from dark disunion + Our threefold State's communion, + God save the loyal Union, + The royal Commonweal! + + + + + EAST TO WEST + + + Sunset smiles on sunrise: east and west are one, + Face to face in heaven before the sovereign sun. + From the springs of the dawn everlasting a glory renews and + transfigures the west, + From the depths of the sunset a light as of morning enkindles the + broad sea's breast, + And the lands and the skies and the waters are glad of the day's + and the night's work done. + + Child of dawn, and regent on the world-wide sea, + England smiles on Europe, fair as dawn and free. + Not the waters that gird her are purer, nor mightier the winds that + her waters know. + But America, daughter and sister of England, is praised of them, + far as they flow: + Atlantic responds to Pacific the praise of her days that have been + and shall be. + + So from England westward let the watchword fly, + So for England eastward let the seas reply; + Praise, honour, and love everlasting be sent on the wind's wings, + westward and east, + That the pride of the past and the pride of the future may mingle + as friends at feast, + And the sons of the lords of the world-wide seas be one till the + world's life die. + + + + + INSCRIPTIONS + + FOR THE FOUR SIDES OF A PEDESTAL + + + I + + Marlowe, the father of the sons of song + Whose praise is England's crowning praise, above + All glories else that crown her, sweet and strong + As England, clothed with light and fire of love, + And girt with might of passion, thought, and trust, + Stands here in spirit, sleeps not here in dust. + + + II + + Marlowe, a star too sovereign, too superb, + To fade when heaven took fire from Shakespeare's light, + A soul that knew but song's triumphal curb + And love's triumphant bondage, holds of right + His pride of place, who first in place and time + Made England's voice as England's heart sublime. + + + III + + Marlowe bade England live in living song: + The light he lifted up lit Shakespeare's way: + He spake, and life sprang forth in music, strong + As fire or lightning, sweet as dawn of day. + Song was a dream where day took night to wife: + "Let there be life," he said: and there was life. + + + IV + + Marlowe of all our fathers first beheld + Beyond the tidal ebb and flow of things + The tideless depth and height of souls, impelled + By thought or passion, borne on waves or wings, + Beyond all flight or sight but song's: and he + First gave our song a sound that matched our sea. + + + + + ON THE DEATH OF RICHARD BURTON + + + Night or light is it now, wherein + Sleeps, shut out from the wild world's din, + Wakes, alive with a life more clear, + One who found not on earth his kin? + + Sleep were sweet for awhile, were dear + Surely to souls that were heartless here, + Souls that faltered and flagged and fell, + Soft of spirit and faint of cheer. + + A living soul that had strength to quell + Hope the spectre and fear the spell, + Clear-eyed, content with a scorn sublime + And a faith superb, can it fare not well? + + Life, the shadow of wide-winged time, + Cast from the wings that change as they climb, + Life may vanish in death, and seem + Less than the promise of last year's prime. + + But not for us is the past a dream + Wherefrom, as light from a clouded stream, + Faith fades and shivers and ebbs away, + Faint as the moon if the sundawn gleam. + + Faith, whose eyes in the low last ray + Watch the fire that renews the day, + Faith which lives in the living past, + Rock-rooted, swerves not as weeds that sway. + + As trees that stand in the storm-wind fast + She stands, unsmitten of death's keen blast, + With strong remembrance of sunbright spring + Alive at heart to the lifeless last. + + Night, she knows, may in no wise cling + To a soul that sinks not and droops not wing, + A sun that sets not in death's false night + Whose kingdom finds him not thrall but king. + + Souls there are that for soul's affright + Bow down and cower in the sun's glad sight, + Clothed round with faith that is one with fear, + And dark with doubt of the live world's light. + + But him we hailed from afar or near + As boldest born of the bravest here + And loved as brightest of souls that eyed + Life, time, and death with unchangeful cheer, + + A wider soul than the world was wide, + Whose praise made love of him one with pride, + What part has death or has time in him, + Who rode life's lists as a god might ride? + + While England sees not her old praise dim, + While still her stars through the world's night swim, + A fame outshining her Raleigh's fame, + A light that lightens her loud sea's rim, + + Shall shine and sound as her sons proclaim + The pride that kindles at Burton's name. + And joy shall exalt their pride to be + The same in birth if in soul the same. + + But we that yearn for a friend's face--we + Who lack the light that on earth was he-- + Mourn, though the light be a quenchless flame + That shines as dawn on a tideless sea. + + + + + ELEGY + + 1869-1891 + + + Auvergne, Auvergne, O wild and woful land, + O glorious land and gracious, white as gleam + The stairs of heaven, black as a flameless brand, + Strange even as life, and stranger than a dream, + + Could earth remember man, whose eyes made bright + The splendour of her beauty, lit by day + Or soothed and softened and redeemed by night, + Wouldst thou not know what light has passed away? + + Wouldst thou not know whom England, whom the world, + Mourns? For the world whose wildest ways he trod, + And smiled their dangers down that coiled and curled + Against him, knows him now less man than god. + + Our demigod of daring, keenest-eyed + To read and deepest read in earth's dim things, + A spirit now whose body of death has died + And left it mightier yet in eyes and wings, + The sovereign seeker of the world, who now + Hath sought what world the light of death may show, + Hailed once with me the crowns that load thy brow, + Crags dark as midnight, columns bright as snow. + + Thy steep small Siena, splendid and content + As shines the mightier city's Tuscan pride + Which here its face reflects in radiance, pent + By narrower bounds from towering side to side, + + Set fast between the ridged and foamless waves + Of earth more fierce and fluctuant than the sea, + The fearless town of towers that hails and braves + The heights that gird, the sun that brands Le Puy; + + The huddled churches clinging on the cliffs + As birds alighting might for storm's sake cling, + Moored to the rocks as tempest-harried skiffs + To perilous refuge from the loud wind's wing; + + The stairs on stairs that wind and change and climb + Even up to the utmost crag's edge curved and curled, + More bright than vision, more than faith sublime, + Strange as the light and darkness of the world; + + Strange as are night and morning, stars and sun, + And washed from west and east by day's deep tide. + Shine yet less fair, when all their heights are won, + Than sundawn shows thy pillared mountain-side. + + Even so the dawn of death, whose light makes dim + The starry fires that life sees rise and set, + Shows higher than here he shone before us him + Whom faith forgets not, nor shall fame forget. + + Even so those else unfooted heights we clomb + Through scudding mist and eddying whirls of cloud, + Blind as a pilot beaten blind with foam, + And shrouded as a corpse with storm's grey shroud, + + Foot following foot along the sheer strait ledge + Where space was none to bear the wild goat's feet + Till blind we sat on the outer footless edge + Where darkling death seemed fain to share the seat, + + The abyss before us, viewless even as time's, + The abyss to left of us, the abyss to right, + Bid thought now dream how high the freed soul climbs + That death sets free from change of day and night. + + The might of raging mist and wind whose wrath + Shut from our eyes the narrowing rock we trod, + The wondrous world it darkened, made our path + Like theirs who take the shadow of death for God. + + Yet eastward, veiled in vapour white as snow, + The grim black herbless heights that scorn the sun + And mock the face of morning rose to show + The work of earth-born fire and earthquake done. + + And half the world was haggard night, wherein + We strove our blind way through: but far above + Was light that watched the wild mists whirl and spin, + And far beneath a land worth light and love. + + Deep down the Valley of the Curse, undaunted + By shadow and whisper of winds with sins for wings + And ghosts of crime wherethrough the heights live haunted + By present sense of past and monstrous things, + + The glimmering water holds its gracious way + Full forth, and keeps one happier hand's-breadth green + Of all that storm-scathed world whereon the sway + Sits dark as death of deadlier things unseen. + + But on the soundless and the viewless river + That bears through night perchance again to day + The dead whom death and twin-born fame deliver + From life that dies, and time's inveterate sway, + + No shadow save of falsehood and of fear + That brands the future with the past, and bids + The spirit wither and the soul grow sere, + Hovers or hangs to cloud life's opening lids, + + If life have eyes to lift again and see, + Beyond the bounds of sensual sight or breath, + What life incognisable of ours may be + That turns our light to darkness deep as death. + + Priests and the soulless serfs of priests may swarm + With vulturous acclamation, loud in lies, + About his dust while yet his dust is warm + Who mocked as sunlight mocks their base blind eyes, + + Their godless ghost of godhead, false and foul + As fear his dam or hell his throne: but we, + Scarce hearing, heed no carrion church-wolf's howl: + The corpse be theirs to mock; the soul is free. + + Free as ere yet its earthly day was done + It lived above the coil about us curled: + A soul whose eyes were keener than the sun, + A soul whose wings were wider than the world. + + We, sons of east and west, ringed round with dreams, + Bound fast with visions, girt about with fears, + Live, trust, and think by chance, while shadow seems + Light, and the wind that wrecks a hand that steers. + + He, whose full soul held east and west in poise, + Weighed man with man, and creed of man's with creed, + And age with age, their triumphs and their toys, + And found what faith may read not and may read. + + Scorn deep and strong as death and life, that lit + With fire the smile at lies and dreams outworn + Wherewith he smote them, showed sublime in it + The splendour and the steadfastness of scorn. + + What loftier heaven, what lordlier air, what space + Illimitable, insuperable, infinite, + Now to that strong-winged soul yields ampler place + Than passing darkness yields to passing light, + + No dream, no faith can tell us: hope and fear, + Whose tongues were loud of old as children's, now + From babbling fall to silence: change is here, + And death; dark furrows drawn by time's dark plough. + + Still sunward here on earth its flight was bent, + Even since the man within the child began + To yearn and kindle with superb intent + And trust in time to magnify the man. + + Still toward the old garden of the Sun, whose fruit + The honey-heavy lips of Sophocles + Desired and sang, wherein the unwithering root + Sprang of all growths that thought brings forth and sees + + Incarnate, bright with bloom or dense with leaf + Far-shadowing, deep as depth of dawn or night: + And all were parcel of the garnered sheaf + His strenuous spirit bound and stored aright. + + And eastward now, and ever toward the dawn, + If death's deep veil by life's bright hand be rent, + We see, as through the shadow of death withdrawn, + The imperious soul's indomitable ascent. + + But not the soul whose labour knew not end-- + But not the swordsman's hand, the crested head-- + The royal heart we mourn, the faultless friend, + Burton--a name that lives till fame be dead. + + + + + A SEQUENCE OF SONNETS ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT BROWNING + + + I + + The clearest eyes in all the world they read + With sense more keen and spirit of sight more true + Than burns and thrills in sunrise, when the dew + Flames, and absorbs the glory round it shed, + As they the light of ages quick and dead, + Closed now, forsake us: yet the shaft that slew + Can slay not one of all the works we knew, + Nor death discrown that many-laurelled head. + + The works of words whose life seems lightning wrought, + And moulded of unconquerable thought, + And quickened with imperishable flame, + Stand fast and shine and smile, assured that nought + May fade of all their myriad-moulded fame, + Nor England's memory clasp not Browning's name. + + _December 13, 1889._ + + + II + + Death, what hast thou to do with one for whom + Time is not lord, but servant? What least part + Of all the fire that fed his living heart, + Of all the light more keen than sundawn's bloom + That lit and led his spirit, strong as doom + And bright as hope, can aught thy breath may dart + Quench? Nay, thou knowest he knew thee what thou art, + A shadow born of terror's barren womb, + That brings not forth save shadows. What art thou, + To dream, albeit thou breathe upon his brow, + That power on him is given thee,--that thy breath + Can make him less than love acclaims him now, + And hears all time sound back the word it saith? + What part hast thou then in his glory, Death? + + + III + + A graceless doom it seems that bids us grieve: + Venice and winter, hand in deadly hand, + Have slain the lover of her sunbright strand + And singer of a stormbright Christmas Eve. + A graceless guerdon we that loved receive + For all our love, from that the dearest land + Love worshipped ever. Blithe and soft and bland, + Too fair for storm to scathe or fire to cleave, + Shone on our dreams and memories evermore + The domes, the towers, the mountains and the shore + That gird or guard thee, Venice: cold and black + Seems now the face we loved as he of yore. + We have given thee love--no stint, no stay, no lack: + What gift, what gift is this thou hast given us back? + + + IV + + But he--to him, who knows what gift is thine, + Death? Hardly may we think or hope, when we + Pass likewise thither where to-night is he, + Beyond the irremeable outer seas that shine + And darken round such dreams as half divine + Some sunlit harbour in that starless sea + Where gleams no ship to windward or to lee, + To read with him the secret of thy shrine. + + There too, as here, may song, delight, and love, + The nightingale, the sea-bird, and the dove, + Fulfil with joy the splendour of the sky + Till all beneath wax bright as all above: + But none of all that search the heavens, and try + The sun, may match the sovereign eagle's eye. + + _December 14._ + + + V + + Among the wondrous ways of men and time + He went as one that ever found and sought + And bore in hand the lamplike spirit of thought + To illume with instance of its fire sublime + The dusk of many a cloudlike age and clime. + No spirit in shape of light and darkness wrought, + No faith, no fear, no dream, no rapture, nought + That blooms in wisdom, nought that burns in crime, + No virtue girt and armed and helmed with light, + No love more lovely than the snows are white, + No serpent sleeping in some dead soul's tomb, + No song-bird singing from some live soul's height, + But he might hear, interpret, or illume + With sense invasive as the dawn of doom. + + + VI + + What secret thing of splendour or of shade + Surmised in all those wandering ways wherein + Man, led of love and life and death and sin, + Strays, climbs, or cowers, allured, absorbed, afraid, + Might not the strong and sunlike sense invade + Of that full soul that had for aim to win + Light, silent over time's dark toil and din, + Life, at whose touch death fades as dead things fade? + O spirit of man, what mystery moves in thee + That he might know not of in spirit, and see + The heart within the heart that seems to strive, + The life within the life that seems to be, + And hear, through all thy storms that whirl and drive, + The living sound of all men's souls alive? + + + VII + + He held no dream worth waking: so he said, + He who stands now on death's triumphal steep, + Awakened out of life wherein we sleep + And dream of what he knows and sees, being dead. + But never death for him was dark or dread: + "Look forth" he bade the soul, and fear not. Weep, + All ye that trust not in his truth, and keep + Vain memory's vision of a vanished head + As all that lives of all that once was he + Save that which lightens from his word: but we, + Who, seeing the sunset-coloured waters roll, + Yet know the sun subdued not of the sea, + Nor weep nor doubt that still the spirit is whole, + And life and death but shadows of the soul. + + _December 15._ + + + + + SUNSET AND MOONRISE + + NEW YEAR'S EVE, 1889 + + + All the west, whereon the sunset sealed the dead year's glorious + grave + Fast with seals of light and fire and cloud that light and fire + illume, + Glows at heart and kindles earth and heaven with joyous blush and + bloom, + Warm and wide as life, and glad of death that only slays to save. + As a tide-reconquered sea-rock lies aflush with the influent wave + Lies the light aflush with darkness, lapped about by lustrous + gloom, + Even as life with death, and fame with time, and memory with the + tomb + Where a dead man hath for vassals Fame the serf and Time the slave. + + Far from earth as heaven, the steadfast light withdrawn, superb, + suspense, + Burns in dumb divine expansion of illimitable flower: + Moonrise whets the shadow's edges keen as noontide: hence and + thence + Glows the presence from us passing, shines and passes not the + power. + Souls arise whose word remembered is as spirit within the sense: + All the hours are theirs of all the seasons: death has but his + hour. + + + + + BIRTHDAY ODE + + AUGUST 6, 1891 + + + I + + Love and praise, and a length of days whose shadow cast upon time + is light, + Days whose sound was a spell shed round from wheeling wings as of + doves in flight, + Meet in one, that the mounting sun to-day may triumph, and cast out + night. + + Two years more than the full fourscore lay hallowing hands on a + sacred head-- + Scarce one score of the perfect four uncrowned of fame as they + smiled and fled: + Still and soft and alive aloft their sunlight stays though the suns + be dead. + + Ere we were or were thought on, ere the love that gave us to life + began, + Fame grew strong with his crescent song, to greet the goal of the + race they ran, + Song with fame, and the lustrous name with years whose changes + acclaimed the man. + + + II + + Soon, ere time in the rounding rhyme of choral seasons had hailed + us men, + We too heard and acclaimed the word whose breath was life upon + England then-- + Life more bright than the breathless light of soundless noon in a + songless glen. + + Ah, the joy of the heartstruck boy whose ear was opened of love to + hear! + Ah, the bliss of the burning kiss of song and spirit, the mounting + cheer + Lit with fire of divine desire and love that knew not if love were + fear! + + Fear and love as of heaven above and earth enkindled of heaven were + one; + One white flame, that around his name grew keen and strong as the + worldwide sun; + Awe made bright with implied delight, as weft with weft of the + rainbow spun. + + + III + + He that fears not the voice he hears and loves shall never have + heart to sing: + All the grace of the sun-god's face that bids the soul as a + fountain spring + Bids the brow that receives it bow, and hail his likeness on earth + as king. + + We that knew when the sun's shaft flew beheld and worshipped, + adored and heard: + Light rang round it of shining sound, whence all men's hearts were + subdued and stirred: + Joy, love, sorrow, the day, the morrow, took life upon them in one + man's word. + + Not for him can the years wax dim, nor downward swerve on a + darkening way: + Upward wind they, and leave behind such light as lightens the front + of May: + Fair as youth and sublime as truth we find the fame that we hail + to-day. + + + + + THRENODY + + OCTOBER 6, 1892 + + + I + + Life, sublime and serene when time had power upon it and ruled its + breath, + Changed it, bade it be glad or sad, and hear what change in the + world's ear saith, + Shines more fair in the starrier air whose glory lightens the dusk + of death. + + Suns that sink on the wan sea's brink, and moons that kindle and + flame and fade, + Leave more clear for the darkness here the stars that set not and + see not shade + Rise and rise on the lowlier skies by rule of sunlight and + moonlight swayed. + + So, when night for his eyes grew bright, his proud head pillowed on + Shakespeare's breast, + Hand in hand with him, soon to stand where shine the glories that + death loves best, + Passed the light of his face from sight, and sank sublimely to + radiant rest. + + + II + + Far above us and all our love, beyond all reach of its voiceless + praise, + Shines for ever the name that never shall feel the shade of the + changeful days + Fall and chill the delight that still sees winter's light on it + shine like May's. + + Strong as death is the dark day's breath whose blast has withered + the life we see + Here where light is the child of night, and less than visions or + dreams are we: + Strong as death; but a word, a breath, a dream is stronger than + death can be. + + Strong as truth and superb in youth eternal, fair as the sundawn's + flame + Seen when May on her first-born day bids earth exult in her radiant + name, + Lives, clothed round with its praise and crowned with love that + dies not, his love-lit fame. + + + III + + Fairer far than the morning star, and sweet for us as the songs + that rang + Loud through heaven from the choral Seven when all the stars of the + morning sang, + Shines the song that we loved so long--since first such love in us + flamed and sprang. + + England glows as a sunlit rose from mead to mountain, from sea to + sea, + Bright with love and with pride above all taint of sorrow that + needs must be, + Needs must live for an hour, and give its rainbow's glory to lawn + and lea. + + Not through tears shall the new-born years behold him, crowned with + applause of men, + Pass at last from a lustrous past to life that lightens beyond + their ken, + Glad and dead, and from earthward led to sunward, guided of Imogen. + + + + + THE BALLAD OF MELICERTES + + IN MEMORY OF THEODORE DE BANVILLE + + + Death, a light outshining life, bids heaven resume + Star by star the souls whose light made earth divine. + Death, a night outshining day, sees burn and bloom + Flower by flower, and sun by sun, the fames that shine + Deathless, higher than life beheld their sovereign sign. + Dead Simonides of Ceos, late restored, + Given again of God, again by man deplored, + Shone but yestereve, a glory frail as breath. + Frail? But fame's breath quickens, kindles, keeps in ward, + Life so sweet as this that dies and casts off death. + + Mother's love, and rapture of the sea, whose womb + Breeds eternal life of joy that stings like brine, + Pride of song, and joy to dare the singer's doom, + Sorrow soft as sleep and laughter bright as wine, + Flushed and filled with fragrant fire his lyric line. + As the sea-shell utters, like a stricken chord, + Music uttering all the sea's within it stored, + Poet well-beloved, whose praise our sorrow saith, + So thy songs retain thy soul, and so record + Life so sweet as this that dies and casts off death. + + Side by side we mourned at Gautier's golden tomb: + Here in spirit now I stand and mourn at thine. + Yet no breath of death strikes thence, no shadow of gloom, + Only light more bright than gold of the inmost mine, + Only steam of incense warm from love's own shrine. + Not the darkling stream, the sundering Stygian ford, + Not the hour that smites and severs as a sword, + Not the night subduing light that perisheth, + Smite, subdue, divide from us by doom abhorred, + Life so sweet as this that dies and casts off death. + + Prince of song more sweet than honey, lyric lord, + Not thy France here only mourns a light adored, + One whose love-lit fame the world inheriteth. + Strangers too, now brethren, hail with heart's accord + Life so sweet as this that dies and casts off death. + + + + + AU TOMBEAU DE BANVILLE + + + La plus douce des voix qui vibraient sous le ciel + Se tait: les rossignols ailes pleurent le frere + Qui s'envole au-dessus de l'apre et sombre terre, + Ne lui laissant plus voir que l'etre essentiel, + + Esprit qui chante et rit, fleur d'une ame sans fiel. + L'ombre elyseenne, ou la nuit n'est que lumiere, + Revoit, tout revetu de splendeur douce et fiere, + Melicerte, poete a la bouche de miel. + + Dieux exiles, passants celestes de ce monde, + Dont on entend parfois dans notre nuit profonde + Vibrer la voix, fremir les ailes, vous savez + S'il vous aima, s'il vous pleura, lui dont la vie + Et le chant rappelaient les votres. Recevez + L'ame de Melicerte affranchie et ravie. + + + + + LIGHT: AN EPICEDE + + TO PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON + + + Love will not weep because the seal is broken + That sealed upon a life beloved and brief + Darkness, and let but song break through for token + How deep, too far for even thy song's relief, + Slept in thy soul the secret springs of grief. + + Thy song may soothe full many a soul hereafter, + As tears, if tears will come, dissolve despair; + As here but late, with smile more bright than laughter, + Thy sweet strange yearning eyes would seem to bear + Witness that joy might cleave the clouds of care. + + Two days agone, and love was one with pity + When love gave thought wings toward the glimmering goal + Where, as a shrine lit in some darkling city, + Shone soft the shrouded image of thy soul: + And now thou art healed of life; thou art healed, and whole. + + Yea, two days since, all we that loved thee pitied: + And now with wondering love, with shame of face, + We think how foolish now, how far unfitted, + Should be from us, toward thee who hast run thy race, + Pity--toward thee, who hast won the painless place; + + The painless world of death, yet unbeholden + Of eyes that dream what light now lightens thine + And will not weep. Thought, yearning toward those olden + Dear hours that sorrow sees and sees not shine, + Bows tearless down before a flameless shrine: + + A flameless altar here of life and sorrow + Quenched and consumed together. These were one, + One thing for thee, as night was one with morrow + And utter darkness with the sovereign sun: + And now thou seest life, sorrow, and darkness done. + + And yet love yearns again to win thee hither; + Blind love, and loveless, and unworthy thee: + Here where I watch the hours of darkness wither, + Here where mine eyes were glad and sad to see + Thine that could see not mine, though turned on me. + + But now, if aught beyond sweet sleep lie hidden, + And sleep be sealed not fast on dead men's sight + For ever, thine hath grace for ours forbidden, + And sees us compassed round with change and night: + Yet light like thine is ours, if love be light. + + + + + THRENODY + + + Watching here alone by the fire whereat last year + Sat with me the friend that a week since yet was near, + That a week has borne so far and hid so deep, + Woe am I that I may not weep, + May not yearn to behold him here. + + Shame were mine, and little the love I bore him were, + Now to mourn that better he fares than love may fare + Which desires, and would not have indeed, its will, + Would not love him so worse than ill, + Would not clothe him again with care. + + Yet can love not choose but remember, hearts but ache, + Eyes but darken, only for one vain thought's poor sake, + For the thought that by this hearth's now lonely side + Two fast friends, on the day he died, + Looked once more for his hand to take. + + Let thy soul forgive them, and pardon heal the sin, + Though their hearts be heavy to think what then had been, + The delight that never while they live may be-- + Love's communion of speech with thee, + Soul and speech with the soul therein. + + O my friend, O brother, a glory veiled and marred! + Never love made moan for a life more evil-starred. + Was it envy, chance, or chance-compelling fate, + Whence thy spirit was bruised so late, + Bowed so heavily, bound so hard? + + Now released, it may be,--if only love might know-- + Filled and fired with sight, it beholds us blind and low + With a pity keener yet, if that may be, + Even than ever was this that we + Felt, when love of thee wrought us woe. + + None may tell the depths and the heights of life and death. + What we may we give thee: a word that sorrow saith, + And that none will heed save sorrow: scarce a song. + All we may, who have loved thee long, + Take: the best we can give is breath. + + + + + A DIRGE + + + A bell tolls on in my heart + As though in my ears a knell + Had ceased for awhile to swell, + But the sense of it would not part + From the spirit that bears its part + In the chime of the soundless bell. + + Ah dear dead singer of sorrow, + The burden is now not thine + That grief bade sound for a sign + Through the songs of the night whose morrow + Has risen, and I may not borrow + A beam from its radiant shrine. + + The burden has dropped from thee + That grief on thy life bound fast; + The winter is over and past + Whose end thou wast fain to see. + Shall sorrow not comfort me + That is thine no longer--at last? + + Good day, good night, and good morrow, + Men living and mourning say. + For thee we could only pray + That night of the day might borrow + Such comfort as dreams lend sorrow: + Death gives thee at last good day. + + + + + A REMINISCENCE + + + The rose to the wind has yielded: all its leaves + Lie strewn on the graveyard grass, and all their light + And colour and fragrance leave our sense and sight + Bereft as a man whom bitter time bereaves + Of blossom at once and hope of garnered sheaves, + Of April at once and August. Day to night + Calls wailing, and life to death, and depth to height, + And soul upon soul of man that hears and grieves. + + Who knows, though he see the snow-cold blossom shed, + If haply the heart that burned within the rose, + The spirit in sense, the life of life be dead? + If haply the wind that slays with storming snows + Be one with the wind that quickens? Bow thine head, + O Sorrow, and commune with thine heart: who knows? + + + + + VIA DOLOROSA + + + The days of a man are threescore years and ten. + The days of his life were half a man's, whom we + Lament, and would yet not bid him back, to be + Partaker of all the woes and ways of men. + Life sent him enough of sorrow: not again + Would anguish of love, beholding him set free, + Bring back the beloved to suffer life and see + No light but the fire of grief that scathed him then. + + We know not at all: we hope, and do not fear. + We shall not again behold him, late so near, + Who now from afar above, with eyes alight + And spirit enkindled, haply toward us here + Looks down unforgetful yet of days like night + And love that has yet his sightless face in sight. + + _February 15, 1887._ + + + I + + TRANSFIGURATION + + But half a man's days--and his days were nights. + What hearts were ours who loved him, should we pray + That night would yield him back to darkling day, + Sweet death that soothes, to life that spoils and smites? + For now, perchance, life lovelier than the light's + That shed no comfort on his weary way + Shows him what none may dream to see or say + Ere yet the soul may scale those topless heights + Where death lies dead, and triumph. Haply there + Already may his kindling eyesight find + Faces of friends--no face than his more fair-- + And first among them found of all his kind + Milton, with crowns from Eden on his hair, + And eyes that meet a brother's now not blind. + + + II + + DELIVERANCE + + O Death, fair Death, sole comforter and sweet, + Nor Love nor Hope can give such gifts as thine. + Sleep hardly shows us round thy shadowy shrine + What roses hang, what music floats, what feet + Pass and what wings of angels. We repeat + Wild words or mild, disastrous or divine, + Blind prayer, blind imprecation, seeing no sign + Nor hearing aught of thee not faint and fleet + As words of men or snowflakes on the wind. + But if we chide thee, saying "Thou hast sinned, thou hast sinned, + Dark Death, to take so sweet a light away + As shone but late, though shadowed, in our skies," + We hear thine answer--"Night has given what day + Denied him: darkness hath unsealed his eyes." + + + III + + THANKSGIVING + + Could love give strength to thank thee! Love can give + Strong sorrow heart to suffer: what we bear + We would not put away, albeit this were + A burden love might cast aside and live. + Love chooses rather pain than palliative, + Sharp thought than soft oblivion. May we dare + So trample down our passion and our prayer + That fain would cling round feet now fugitive + And stay them--so remember, so forget, + What joy we had who had his presence yet, + What griefs were his while joy in him was ours + And grief made weary music of his breath, + As even to hail his best and last of hours + With love grown strong enough to thank thee, Death? + + + IV + + LIBITINA VERTICORDIA + + Sister of sleep, healer of life, divine + As rest and strong as very love may be, + To set the soul that love could set not free, + To bid the skies that day could bid not shine, + To give the gift that life withheld was thine. + With all my heart I loved one borne from me: + And all my heart bows down and praises thee, + Death, that hast now made grief not his but mine. + + O Changer of men's hearts, we would not bid thee + Turn back our hearts from sorrow: this alone + We bid, we pray thee, from thy sovereign throne + And sanctuary sublime where heaven has hid thee, + Give: grace to know of those for whom we weep + That if they wake their life is sweet as sleep. + + + V + + THE ORDER OF RELEASE + + Thou canst not give it. Grace enough is ours + To know that pain for him has fallen on rest. + The worst we know was his on earth: the best, + We fain would think,--a thought no fear deflowers-- + Is his, released from bonds of rayless hours. + Ah, turn our hearts from longing; bid our quest + Cease, as content with failure. This thy guest + Sleeps, vexed no more of time's imperious powers, + The spirit of hope, the spirit of change and loss, + The spirit of love bowed down beneath his cross, + Nor now needs comfort from the strength of song. + Love, should he wake, bears now no cross for him: + Dead hope, whose living eyes like his were dim, + Has brought forth better comfort, strength more strong. + + + VI + + PSYCHAGOGOS + + As Greece of old acclaimed thee God and man, + So, Death, our tongue acclaims thee: yet wast thou + Hailed of old Rome as Romans hail thee now, + Goddess and woman. Since the sands first ran + That told when first man's life and death began, + The shadows round thy blind ambiguous brow + Have mocked the votive plea, the pleading vow + That sought thee sorrowing, fain to bless or ban. + + But stronger than a father's love is thine, + And gentler than a mother's. Lord and God, + Thy staff is surer than the wizard rod + That Hermes bare as priest before thy shrine + And herald of thy mercies. We could give + Nought, when we would have given: thou bidst him live. + + + VII + + THE LAST WORD + + So many a dream and hope that went and came, + So many and sweet, that love thought like to be, + Of hours as bright and soft as those for me + That made our hearts for song's sweet love the same, + Lie now struck dead, that hope seems one with shame. + O Death, thy name is Love: we know it, and see + The witness: yet for very love's sake we + Can hardly bear to mix with thine his name. + + Philip, how hard it is to bid thee part + Thou knowest, if aught thou knowest where now thou art + Of us that loved and love thee. None may tell + What none but knows--how hard it is to say + The word that seals up sorrow, darkens day, + And bids fare forth the soul it bids farewell. + + + + + IN MEMORY OF AURELIO SAFFI + + + The wider world of men that is not ours + Receives a soul whose life on earth was light. + Though darkness close the date of human hours, + Love holds the spirit and sense of life in sight, + That may not, even though death bid fly, take flight. + Faith, love, and hope fulfilled with memory, see + As clear and dear as life could bid it be + The present soul that is and is not he. + + He, who held up the shield and sword of Rome + Against the ravening brood of recreant France, + Beside the man of men whom heaven took home + When earth beheld the spring's first eyebeams glance + And life and winter seemed alike a trance + Eighteen years since, in sight of heaven and spring + That saw the soul above all souls take wing, + He too now hears the heaven we hear not sing. + + He too now dwells where death is dead, and stands + Where souls like stars exult in life to be: + Whence all who linked heroic hearts and hands + Shine on our sight, and give it strength to see + What hope makes fair for all whom faith makes free: + Free with such freedom as we find in sleep, + The light sweet shadow of death, when dreams are deep + And high as heaven whence light and lightning leap. + + And scarce a month yet gone, his living hand + Writ loving words that sealed me friend of his. + Are heaven and earth as near as sea to strand? + May life and death as bride and bridegroom kiss? + His last month's written word abides, and is; + Clear as the sun that lit through storm and strife + And darkling days when hope took fear to wife + The faith whose fire was light of all his life. + + A life so fair, so pure of earthlier leaven, + That none hath won through higher and harder ways + The deathless life of death which earth calls heaven; + Heaven, and the light of love on earth, and praise + Of silent memory through subsiding days + Wherein the light subsides not whence the past + Feeds full with life the future. Time holds fast + Their names whom faith forgets not, first and last. + + Forget? The dark forgets not dawn, nor we + The suns that sink to rise again, and shine + Lords of live years and ages. Earth and sea + Forget not heaven that makes them seem divine, + Though night put out their fires and bid their shrine + Be dark and pale as storm and twilight. Day, + Not night, is everlasting: life's full sway + Bids death bow down as dead, and pass away. + + What part has death in souls that past all fear + Win heavenward their supernal way, and smite + With scorn sublime as heaven such dreams as here + Plague and perplex with cloud and fire the light + That leads men's waking souls from glimmering night + To the awless heights of day, whereon man's awe, + Transfigured, dies in rapture, seeing the law + Sealed of the sun that earth arising saw? + + Faith, justice, mercy, love, and heaven-born hate + That sets them all on fire and bids them be + More than soft words and dreams that wake too late, + Shone living through the lordly life that we + Beheld, revered, and loved on earth, while he + Dwelt here, and bade our eyes take light thereof; + Light as from heaven that flamed or smiled above + In light or fire whose very hate was love. + + No hate of man, but hate of hate whose foam + Sheds poison forth from tongues of snakes and priests, + And stains the sickening air with steams whence Rome + Now feeds not full the God that slays and feasts; + For now the fangs of all the ravenous beasts + That ramped about him, fain of prayer and prey, + Fulfil their lust no more: the tide of day + Swells, and compels him down the deathward way. + + Night sucks the Church its creature down, and hell + Yawns, heaves, and yearns to clasp its loathliest child + Close to the breasts that bore it. All the spell + Whence darkness saw the dawn in heaven defiled + Is dumb as death: the lips that lied and smiled + Wax white for fear as ashes. She that bore + The banner up of darkness now no more + Sheds night and fear and shame from shore to shore. + + When they that cast her kingdom down were born, + North cried on south and east made moan to west + For hopes that love had hardly heart to mourn, + For Italy that was not. Kings on quest, + By priests whose blessings burn as curses blest, + Made spoil of souls and bodies bowed and bound, + Hunted and harried, leashed as horse or hound, + And hopeless of the hope that died unfound. + + And now that faith has brought forth fruit to time, + How should not memory praise their names, and hold + Their record even as Dante's life sublime, + Who bade his dream, found fair and false of old, + Live? Not till earth and heaven be dead and cold + May man forget whose work and will made one + Italy, fair as heaven or freedom won, + And left their fame to shine beside her sun. + + _April 1890._ + + + + + THE FESTIVAL OF BEATRICE + + + Dante, sole standing on the heavenward height, + Beheld and heard one saying, "Behold me well: + I am, I am Beatrice." Heaven and hell + Kept silence, and the illimitable light + Of all the stars was darkness in his sight + Whose eyes beheld her eyes again, and fell + Shame-stricken. Since her soul took flight to dwell + In heaven, six hundred years have taken flight. + + And now that heavenliest part of earth whereon + Shines yet their shadow as once their presence shone + To her bears witness for his sake, as he + For hers bare witness when her face was gone: + No slave, no hospice now for grief--but free + From shore to mountain and from Alp to sea. + + + + + THE MONUMENT OF GIORDANO BRUNO + + + I + + Not from without us, only from within, + Comes or can ever come upon us light + Whereby the soul keeps ever truth in sight. + No truth, no strength, no comfort man may win, + No grace for guidance, no release from sin, + Save of his own soul's giving. Deep and bright + As fire enkindled in the core of night + Burns in the soul where once its fire has been + The light that leads and quickens thought, inspired + To doubt and trust and conquer. So he said + Whom Sidney, flower of England, lordliest head + Of all we love, loved: but the fates required + A sacrifice to hate and hell, ere fame + Should set with his in heaven Giordano's name. + + + II + + Cover thine eyes and weep, O child of hell, + Grey spouse of Satan, Church of name abhorred. + Weep, withered harlot, with thy weeping lord, + Now none will buy the heaven thou hast to sell + At price of prostituted souls, and swell + Thy loveless list of lovers. Fire and sword + No more are thine: the steel, the wheel, the cord, + The flames that rose round living limbs, and fell + In lifeless ash and ember, now no more + Approve thee godlike. Rome, redeemed at last + From all the red pollution of thy past, + Acclaims the grave bright face that smiled of yore + Even on the fire that caught it round and clomb + To cast its ashes on the face of Rome. + + _June 9, 1889._ + + + + + LIFE IN DEATH + + + He should have followed who goes forth before us, + Last born of us in life, in death first-born: + The last to lift up eyes against the morn, + The first to see the sunset. Life, that bore us + Perchance for death to comfort and restore us, + Of him hath left us here awhile forlorn, + For him is as a garment overworn, + And time and change, with suns and stars in chorus, + Silent. But if, beyond all change or time, + A law more just, more equal, more sublime + Than sways the surge of life's loud sterile sea + Sways that still world whose peace environs him, + Where death lies dead as night when stars wax dim, + Above all thought or hope of ours is he. + + _August 2, 1891._ + + + + + EPICEDE + + + As a vesture shalt thou change them, said the prophet, + And the raiment that was flesh is turned to dust; + Dust and flesh and dust again the likeness of it, + And the fine gold woven and worn of youth is rust. + Hours that wax and wane salute the shade and scoff it, + That it knows not aught it doth nor aught it must: + Day by day the speeding soul makes haste to doff it, + Night by night the pride of life resigns its trust. + + Sleep, whose silent notes of song loud life's derange not, + Takes the trust in hand awhile as angels may: + Joy with wings that rest not, grief with wings that range not, + Guard the gates of sleep and waking, gold or grey. + Joys that joys estrange, and griefs that griefs estrange not, + Day that yearns for night, and night that yearns for day, + As a vesture shalt thou change them, and they change not, + Seeing that change may never change or pass away. + + Life of death makes question, "What art thou that changest? + What am I, that fear should trust or faith should doubt? + I that lighten, thou that darkenest and estrangest, + Is it night or day that girds us round about? + Light and darkness on the ways wherein thou rangest + Seem as one, and beams as clouds they put to rout. + Strange is hope, but fear of all things born were strangest, + Seeing that none may strive with change to cast it out. + + "Change alone stands fast, thou sayest, O death: I know not: + What art thou, my brother death, that thou shouldst know? + Men may reap no fruits of fields wherein they sow not; + Hope or fear is all the seed we have to sow. + Winter seals the sacred springs up that they flow not: + Wind and sun and change unbind them, and they flow. + Am I thou or art thou I? The years that show not + Pass, and leave no sign when time shall be to show." + + Hope makes suit to faith lest fear give ear to sorrow: + Doubt strews dust upon his head, and goes his way. + All the golden hope that life of death would borrow, + How, if death require again, may life repay? + Earth endures no darkness whence no light yearns thorough; + God in man as light in darkness lives, they say: + Yet, would midnight take assurance of the morrow, + Who shall pledge the faith or seal the bond of day? + + Darkness, mute or loud with music or with mourning, + Starry darkness, winged with wind or clothed with calm, + Dreams no dream of grief or fear or wrath or warning, + Bears no sign of race or goal or strife or palm. + Word of blessing, word of mocking or of scorning, + Knows it none, nor whence its breath sheds blight or balm. + Yet a little while, and hark, the psalm of morning: + Yet a little while, and silence takes the psalm. + + All the comfort, all the worship, all the wonder, + All the light of love that darkness holds in fee, + All the song that silence keeps or keeps not under, + Night, the soul that knows gives thanks for all to thee. + Far beyond the gates that morning strikes in sunder, + Hopes that grief makes holy, dreams that fear sets free, + Far above the throne of thought, the lair of thunder, + Silent shines the word whose utterance fills the sea. + + + + + MEMORIAL VERSES ON THE DEATH OF WILLIAM BELL SCOTT + + + A life more bright than the sun's face, bowed + Through stress of season and coil of cloud, + Sets: and the sorrow that casts out fear + Scarce deems him dead in his chill still shroud, + + Dead on the breast of the dying year, + Poet and painter and friend, thrice dear + For love of the suns long set, for love + Of song that sets not with sunset here, + + For love of the fervent heart, above + Their sense who saw not the swift light move + That filled with sense of the loud sun's lyre + The thoughts that passion was fain to prove + + In fervent labour of high desire + And faith that leapt from its own quenched pyre + Alive and strong as the sun, and caught + From darkness light, and from twilight fire. + + Passion, deep as the depths unsought + Whence faith's own hope may redeem us nought, + Filled full with ardour of pain sublime + His mourning song and his mounting thought. + + Elate with sense of a sterner time, + His hand's flight clomb as a bird's might climb + Calvary: dark in the darkling air + That shrank for fear of the crowning crime, + + Three crosses rose on the hillside bare, + Shown scarce by grace of the lightning's glare + That clove the veil of the temple through + And smote the priests on the threshold there. + + The soul that saw it, the hand that drew, + Whence light as thought's or as faith's glance flew, + And stung to life the sepulchral past, + And bade the stars of it burn anew, + + Held no less than the dead world fast + The light live shadows about them cast, + The likeness living of dawn and night, + The days that pass and the dreams that last. + + Thought, clothed round with sorrow as light, + Dark as a cloud that the moon turns bright, + Moved, as a wind on the striving sea, + That yearns and quickens and flags in flight, + + Through forms of colour and song that he + Who fain would have set its wide wings free + Cast round it, clothing or chaining hope + With lights that last not and shades that flee. + + Scarce in song could his soul find scope, + Scarce the strength of his hand might ope + Art's inmost gate of her sovereign shrine, + To cope with heaven as a man may cope. + + But high as the hope of a man may shine + The faith, the fervour, the life divine + That thrills our life and transfigures, rose + And shone resurgent, a sunbright sign, + + Through shapes whereunder the strong soul glows + And fills them full as a sunlit rose + With sense and fervour of life, whose light + The fool's eye knows not, the man's eye knows. + + None that can read or divine aright + The scriptures writ of the soul may slight + The strife of a strenuous soul to show + More than the craft of the hand may write. + + None may slight it, and none may know + How high the flames that aspire and glow + From heart and spirit and soul may climb + And triumph; higher than the souls lie low + + Whose hearing hears not the livelong rhyme, + Whose eyesight sees not the light sublime, + That shines, that sounds, that ascends and lives + Unquenched of change, unobscured of time. + + A long life's length, as a man's life gives + Space for the spirit that soars and strives + To strive and soar, has the soul shone through + That heeds not whither the world's wind drives + + Now that the days and the ways it knew + Are strange, are dead as the dawn's grey dew + At high midnoon of the mounting day + That mocks the might of the dawn it slew. + + Yet haply may not--and haply may-- + No sense abide of the dead sun's ray + Wherein the soul that outsoars us now + Rejoiced with ours in its radiant sway. + + Hope may hover, and doubt may bow, + Dreaming. Haply--they dream not how-- + Not life but death may indeed be dead + When silence darkens the dead man's brow. + + Hope, whose name is remembrance, fed + With love that lightens from seasons fled, + Dreams, and craves not indeed to know, + That death and life are as souls that wed. + + But change that falls on the heart like snow + Can chill not memory nor hope, that show + The soul, the spirit, the heart and head, + Alive above us who strive below. + + + + + AN OLD SAYING + + + Many waters cannot quench love, + Neither can the floods drown it. + Who shall snare or slay the white dove + Faith, whose very dreams crown it, + Gird it round with grace and peace, deep, + Warm, and pure, and soft as sweet sleep? + Many waters cannot quench love, + Neither can the floods drown it. + + Set me as a seal upon thine heart, + As a seal upon thine arm. + How should we behold the days depart + And the nights resign their charm? + Love is as the soul: though hate and fear + Waste and overthrow, they strike not here. + Set me as a seal upon thine heart, + As a seal upon thine arm. + + + + + A MOSS-ROSE + + + If the rose of all flowers be the rarest + That heaven may adore from above, + And the fervent moss-rose be the fairest + That sweetens the summer with love, + + Can it be that a fairer than any + Should blossom afar from the tree? + Yet one, and a symbol of many, + Shone sudden for eyes that could see. + + In the grime and the gloom of November + The bliss and the bloom of July + Bade autumn rejoice and remember + The balm of the blossoms gone by. + + Would you know what moss-rose now it may be + That puts all the rest to the blush, + The flower was the face of a baby, + The moss was a bonnet of plush. + + + + + TO A CAT + + + I + + Stately, kindly, lordly friend, + Condescend + Here to sit by me, and turn + Glorious eyes that smile and burn, + Golden eyes, love's lustrous meed, + On the golden page I read. + + All your wondrous wealth of hair, + Dark and fair, + Silken-shaggy, soft and bright + As the clouds and beams of night, + Pays my reverent hand's caress + Back with friendlier gentleness. + + Dogs may fawn on all and some + As they come; + You, a friend of loftier mind, + Answer friends alone in kind. + Just your foot upon my hand + Softly bids it understand. + + Morning round this silent sweet + Garden-seat + Sheds its wealth of gathering light, + Thrills the gradual clouds with might, + Changes woodland, orchard, heath, + Lawn, and garden there beneath. + + Fair and dim they gleamed below: + Now they glow + Deep as even your sunbright eyes, + Fair as even the wakening skies. + Can it not or can it be + Now that you give thanks to see? + + May not you rejoice as I, + Seeing the sky + Change to heaven revealed, and bid + Earth reveal the heaven it hid + All night long from stars and moon, + Now the sun sets all in tune? + + What within you wakes with day + Who can say? + All too little may we tell, + Friends who like each other well, + What might haply, if we might, + Bid us read our lives aright. + + + II + + Wild on woodland ways your sires + Flashed like fires; + Fair as flame and fierce and fleet + As with wings on wingless feet + Shone and sprang your mother, free, + Bright and brave as wind or sea. + + Free and proud and glad as they, + Here to-day + Rests or roams their radiant child, + Vanquished not, but reconciled, + Free from curb of aught above + Save the lovely curb of love. + + Love through dreams of souls divine + Fain would shine + Round a dawn whose light and song + Then should right our mutual wrong-- + Speak, and seal the love-lit law + Sweet Assisi's seer foresaw. + + Dreams were theirs; yet haply may + Dawn a day + When such friends and fellows born, + Seeing our earth as fair at morn, + May for wiser love's sake see + More of heaven's deep heart than we. + + + + + HAWTHORN DYKE + + + All the golden air is full of balm and bloom + Where the hawthorns line the shelving dyke with flowers. + Joyous children born of April's happiest hours, + High and low they laugh and lighten, knowing their doom + Bright as brief--to bless and cheer they know not whom, + Heed not how, but washed and warmed with suns and showers + Smile, and bid the sweet soft gradual banks and bowers + Thrill with love of sunlit fire or starry gloom. + All our moors and lawns all round rejoice; but here + All the rapturous resurrection of the year + Finds the radiant utterance perfect, sees the word + Spoken, hears the light that speaks it. Far and near, + All the world is heaven: and man and flower and bird + Here are one at heart with all things seen and heard. + + + + + THE BROTHERS + + + There were twa brethren fell on strife; + Sweet fruits are sair to gather: + The tane has reft his brother of life; + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + There were twa brethren fell to fray; + Sweet fruits are sair to gather: + The tane is clad in a cloak of clay; + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + O loud and loud was the live man's cry, + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "Would God the dead and the slain were I!" + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "O sair was the wrang and sair the fray," + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "But liefer had love be slain than slay." + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "O sweet is the life that sleeps at hame," + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "But I maun wake on a far sea's faem." + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "And women are fairest of a' things fair," + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "But never shall I kiss woman mair." + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + Between the birk and the aik and the thorn + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + He's laid his brother to lie forlorn: + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + Between the bent and the burn and the broom + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + He's laid him to sleep till dawn of doom: + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + He's tane him owre the waters wide, + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + Afar to fleet and afar to bide: + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + His hair was yellow, his cheek was red, + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + When he set his face to the wind and fled: + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + His banes were stark and his een were bright + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + When he set his face to the sea by night: + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + His cheek was wan and his hair was grey + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + When he came back hame frae the wide world's way: + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + His banes were weary, his een were dim, + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + And nae man lived and had mind of him: + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "O whatten a wreck wad they seek on land" + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "That they houk the turf to the seaward hand?" + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "O whatten a prey wad they think to take" + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "That they delve the dykes for a dead man's sake?" + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + A bane of the dead in his hand he's tane; + Sweet fruits are sair to gather: + And the red blood brak frae the dead white bane. + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + He's cast it forth of his auld faint hand; + Sweet fruits are sair to gather: + And the red blood ran on the wan wet sand. + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "O whatten a slayer is this," they said, + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "That the straik of his hand should raise his dead?" + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "O weel is me for the sign I take" + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "That now I may die for my auld sin's sake." + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + "For the dead was in wait now fifty year," + (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) + "And now shall I die for his blood's sake here." + And the wind wears owre the heather. + + + + + JACOBITE SONG + + + Now who will speak, and lie not, + And pledge not life, but give? + Slaves herd with herded cattle: + The dawn grows bright for battle, + And if we die, we die not; + And if we live, we live. + + The faith our fathers fought for, + The kings our fathers knew, + We fight but as they fought for: + We seek the goal they sought for, + The chance they hailed and knew, + The praise they strove and wrought for, + To leave their blood as dew + On fields that flower anew. + + Men live that serve the stranger; + Hounds live that huntsmen tame: + These life-days of our living + Are days of God's good giving + Where death smiles soft on danger + And life scowls dark on shame. + + And what would you do other, + Sweet wife, if you were I? + And how should you be other, + My sister, than your brother, + If you were man as I, + Born of our sire and mother, + With choice to cower and fly, + And chance to strike and die? + + No churl's our oldworld name is, + The lands we leave are fair: + But fairer far than these are, + But wide as all the seas are, + But high as heaven the fame is + That if we die we share. + + Our name the night may swallow, + Our lands the churl may take: + But night nor death may swallow, + Nor hell's nor heaven's dim hollow, + The star whose height we take, + The star whose light we follow + For faith's unfaltering sake + Till hope that sleeps awake. + + Soft hope's light lure we serve not, + Nor follow, fain to find: + Dark time's last word may smite her + Dead, ere man's falsehood blight her, + But though she die, we swerve not, + Who cast not eye behind. + + Faith speaks when hope dissembles: + Faith lives when hope lies dead: + If death as life dissembles, + And all that night assembles + Of stars at dawn lie dead, + Faint hope that smiles and trembles + May tell not well for dread: + But faith has heard it said. + + Now who will fight, and fly not, + And grudge not life to give? + And who will strike beside us, + If life's or death's light guide us? + For if we live, we die not, + And if we die, we live. + + + + + THE BALLAD OF DEAD MEN'S BAY + + + The sea swings owre the slants of sand, + All white with winds that drive; + The sea swirls up to the still dim strand, + Where nae man comes alive. + + At the grey soft edge of the fruitless surf + A light flame sinks and springs; + At the grey soft rim of the flowerless turf + A low flame leaps and clings. + + What light is this on a sunless shore, + What gleam on a starless sea? + Was it earth's or hell's waste womb that bore + Such births as should not be? + + As lithe snakes turning, as bright stars burning, + They bicker and beckon and call; + As wild waves churning, as wild winds yearning, + They flicker and climb and fall. + + A soft strange cry from the landward rings-- + "What ails the sea to shine?" + A keen sweet note from the spray's rim springs-- + "What fires are these of thine?" + + A soul am I that was born on earth + For ae day's waesome span: + Death bound me fast on the bourn of birth + Ere I were christened man. + + "A light by night, I fleet and fare + Till the day of wrath and woe; + On the hems of earth and the skirts of air + Winds hurl me to and fro." + + "O well is thee, though the weird be strange + That bids thee flit and flee; + For hope is child of the womb of change, + And hope keeps watch with thee. + + "When the years are gone, and the time is come, + God's grace may give thee grace; + And thy soul may sing, though thy soul were dumb, + And shine before God's face. + + "But I, that lighten and revel and roll + With the foam of the plunging sea, + No sign is mine of a breathing soul + That God should pity me. + + "Nor death, nor heaven, nor hell, nor birth + Hath part in me nor mine: + Strong lords are these of the living earth + And loveless lords of thine. + + "But I that know nor lord nor life + More sure than storm or spray, + Whose breath is made of sport and strife, + Whereon shall I find stay?" + + "And wouldst thou change thy doom with me, + Full fain with thee would I: + For the life that lightens and lifts the sea + Is more than earth or sky. + + "And what if the day of doubt and doom + Shall save nor smite not me? + I would not rise from the slain world's tomb + If there be no more sea. + + "Take he my soul that gave my soul, + And give it thee to keep; + And me, while seas and stars shall roll + Thy life that falls on sleep." + + That word went up through the mirk mid sky, + And even to God's own ear: + And the Lord was ware of the keen twin cry, + And wroth was he to hear. + + He's tane the soul of the unsained child + That fled to death from birth; + He's tane the light of the wan sea wild, + And bid it burn on earth. + + He's given the ghaist of the babe new-born + The gift of the water-sprite, + To ride on revel from morn to morn + And roll from night to night. + + He's given the sprite of the wild wan sea + The gift of the new-born man, + A soul for ever to bide and be + When the years have filled their span. + + When a year was gone and a year was come, + O loud and loud cried they-- + "For the lee-lang year thou hast held us dumb + Take now thy gifts away!" + + O loud and lang they cried on him, + And sair and sair they prayed: + "Is the face of thy grace as the night's face grim + For those thy wrath has made?" + + A cry more bitter than tears of men + From the rim of the dim grey sea;-- + "Give me my living soul again, + The soul thou gavest me, + The doom and the dole of kindly men, + To bide my weird and be!" + + A cry more keen from the wild low land + Than the wail of waves that roll;-- + "Take back the gift of a loveless hand, + Thy gift of doom and dole, + The weird of men that bide on land; + Take from me, take my soul!" + + The hands that smite are the hands that spare; + They build and break the tomb; + They turn to darkness and dust and air + The fruits of the waste earth's womb; + But never the gift of a granted prayer, + The dole of a spoken doom. + + Winds may change at a word unheard, + But none may change the tides: + The prayer once heard is as God's own word; + The doom once dealt abides. + + And ever a cry goes up by day, + And ever a wail by night; + And nae ship comes by the weary bay + But her shipmen hear them wail and pray, + And see with earthly sight + The twofold flames of the twin lights play + Where the sea-banks green and the sea-floods grey + Are proud of peril and fain of prey, + And the sand quakes ever; and ill fare they + That look upon that light. + + + + + DEDICATION + + 1893 + + + The sea of the years that endure not + Whose tide shall endure till we die + And know what the seasons assure not, + If death be or life be a lie, + Sways hither the spirit and thither, + A waif in the swing of the sea + Whose wrecks are of memories that wither + As leaves of a tree. + + We hear not and hail not with greeting + The sound of the wings of the years, + The storm of the sound of them beating, + That none till it pass from him hears: + But tempest nor calm can imperil + The treasures that fade not or fly; + Change bids them not change and be sterile, + Death bids them not die. + + Hearts plighted in youth to the royal + High service of hope and of song, + Sealed fast for endurance as loyal, + And proved of the years as they throng, + Conceive not, believe not, and fear not + That age may be other than youth; + That faith and that friendship may hear not + And utter not truth. + + Not yesterday's light nor to-morrow's + Gleams nearer or clearer than gleams, + Though joys be forgotten and sorrows + Forgotten as changes of dreams, + The dawn of the days unforgotten + That noon could eclipse not or slay, + Whose fruits were as children begotten + Of dawn upon day. + + The years that were flowerful and fruitless, + The years that were fruitful and dark, + The hopes that were radiant and rootless, + The hopes that were winged for their mark, + Lie soft in the sepulchres fashioned + Of hours that arise and subside, + Absorbed and subdued and impassioned, + In pain or in pride. + + But far in the night that entombs them + The starshine as sunshine is strong, + And clear through the cloud that resumes them + Remembrance, a light and a song, + Rings lustrous as music and hovers + As birds that impend on the sea, + And thoughts that their prison-house covers + Arise and are free. + + Forgetfulness deep as a prison + Holds days that are dead for us fast + Till the sepulchre sees rearisen + The spirit whose reign is the past, + Disentrammelled of darkness, and kindled + With life that is mightier than death, + When the life that obscured it has dwindled + And passed as a breath. + + But time nor oblivion may darken + Remembrance whose name will be joy + While memory forgets not to hearken, + While manhood forgets not the boy + Who heard and exulted in hearing + The songs of the sunrise of youth + Ring radiant above him, unfearing + And joyous as truth. + + Truth, winged and enkindled with rapture + And sense of the radiance of yore, + Fulfilled you with power to recapture + What never might singer before-- + The life, the delight, and the sorrow + Of troublous and chivalrous years + That knew not of night or of morrow, + Of hopes or of fears. + + But wider the wing and the vision + That quicken the spirit have spread + Since memory beheld with derision + Man's hope to be more than his dead. + From the mists and the snows and the thunders + Your spirit has brought for us forth + Light, music, and joy in the wonders + And charms of the north. + + The wars and the woes and the glories + That quicken and lighten and rain + From the clouds of its chronicled stories, + The passion, the pride, and the pain, + Whose echoes were mute and the token + Was lost of the spells that they spake, + Rise bright at your bidding, unbroken + Of ages that break. + + For you, and for none of us other, + Time is not: the dead that must live + Hold commune with you as a brother + By grace of the life that you give. + The heart that was in them is in you, + Their soul in your spirit endures: + The strength of their song is the sinew + Of this that is yours. + + Hence is it that life, everlasting + As light and as music, abides + In the sound of the surge of it, casting + Sound back to the surge of the tides, + Till sons of the sons of the Norsemen + Watch, hurtling to windward and lee, + Round England, unbacked of her horsemen, + The steeds of the sea. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Astrophel and Other Poems, by +Algernon Charles Swinburne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTROPHEL AND OTHER POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 18673.txt or 18673.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/6/7/18673/ + +Produced by Paul Murray, Lisa Reigel, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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