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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/18782-8.txt b/18782-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6158512 --- /dev/null +++ b/18782-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2581 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Studies in Song, A Century of Roundels, +Sonnets on English Dramatic Poets, The Heptalogia, Etc, 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: Studies in Song, A Century of Roundels, Sonnets on English Dramatic Poets, The Heptalogia, Etc + From Swinburne's Poems Volume V. + +Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne + +Release Date: July 8, 2006 [EBook #18782] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STUDIES IN SONG *** + + + + +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+. The word "Phoebus" was rendered with an oe +ligature in the original.] + + + + +Various Poems: + +Athens: An Ode +The Statue of Victor Hugo +Euthanatos +First and Last +Lines on the Death of Edward John Trelawny +Adieux à Marie Stuart +Herse +Twins +The Salt of the Earth +Seven Years Old +Eight Years Old +Comparisons +What is Death? +A Child's Pity +A Child's Laughter +A Child's Thanks +A Child's Battles +A Child's Future +Sunrise + + +By + +Algernon Charles Swinburne + +Taken from The Collected Poetical Works of Algernon Charles +Swinburne--Vol V + + + + +THE COLLECTED POETICAL WORKS OF ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE + +VOL. V + +STUDIES IN SONG: A CENTURY OF ROUNDELS: SONNETS ON ENGLISH DRAMATIC +POETS: THE HEPTALOGIA: ETC. + + + + +SWINBURNE'S POETICAL WORKS + + +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 + + + + +STUDIES IN SONG: A CENTURY OF ROUNDELS: SONNETS ON ENGLISH DRAMATIC +POETS: THE HEPTALOGIA: ETC. + +By + +Algernon Charles Swinburne + + +1917 + +LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN + + +_First printed_ (_Chatto_), 1904 + +_Reprinted_ 1904, '09, '10, '12 + +(_Heinemann_), 1917 + + +_London: William Heinemann_, 1917 + + + + + PAGE +ATHENS: AN ODE 194 + +THE STATUE OF VICTOR HUGO 215 + +EUTHANATOS 252 + +FIRST AND LAST 255 + +LINES ON THE DEATH OF EDWARD JOHN TRELAWNY 257 + +ADIEUX À MARIE STUART 259 + +HERSE 264 + +TWINS 267 + +THE SALT OF THE EARTH 272 + +SEVEN YEARS OLD 273 + +EIGHT YEARS OLD 275 + +COMPARISONS 278 + +WHAT IS DEATH? 280 + +A CHILD'S PITY 281 + +A CHILD'S LAUGHTER 283 + +A CHILD'S THANKS 285 + +A CHILD'S BATTLES 287 + +A CHILD'S FUTURE 293 + +SUNRISE 368 + + + + + ATHENS: AN ODE + + + + + ATHENS + + AN ODE + + + Ere from under earth again like fire the violet kindle, [_Str. 1._ + Ere the holy buds and hoar on olive-branches bloom, + Ere the crescent of the last pale month of winter dwindle, + Shrink, and fall as falls a dead leaf on the dead month's tomb, + Round the hills whose heights the first-born olive-blossom + brightened, + Round the city brow-bound once with violets like a bride, + Up from under earth again a light that long since lightened + Breaks, whence all the world took comfort as all time takes + pride. + Pride have all men in their fathers that were free before them, + In the warriors that begat us free-born pride have we: + But the fathers of their spirits, how may men adore them, + With what rapture may we praise, who bade our souls be free? + Sons of Athens born in spirit and truth are all born free men; + Most of all, we, nurtured where the north wind holds his reign: + Children all we sea-folk of the Salaminian seamen, + Sons of them that beat back Persia they that beat back Spain. + Since the songs of Greece fell silent, none like ours have risen; + Since the sails of Greece fell slack, no ships have sailed like + ours; + How should we lament not, if her spirit sit in prison? + How should we rejoice not, if her wreaths renew their flowers? + All the world is sweeter, if the Athenian violet quicken: + All the world is brighter, if the Athenian sun return: + All things foul on earth wax fainter, by that sun's light stricken: + All ill growths are withered, where those fragrant flower-lights + burn. + All the wandering waves of seas with all their warring waters + Roll the record on for ever of the sea-fight there, + When the capes were battle's lists, and all the straits were + slaughter's, + And the myriad Medes as foam-flakes on the scattering air. + Ours the lightning was that cleared the north and lit the nations, + But the light that gave the whole world light of old was she: + Ours an age or twain, but hers are endless generations: + All the world is hers at heart, and most of all are we. + + Ye that bear the name about you of her glory, [_Ant. 1._ + Men that wear the sign of Greeks upon you sealed, + Yours is yet the choice to write yourselves in story + Sons of them that fought the Marathonian field. + Slaves of no man were ye, said your warrior poet, + Neither subject unto man as underlings: + Yours is now the season here wherein to show it, + If the seed ye be of them that knew not kings. + If ye be not, swords nor words alike found brittle + From the dust of death to raise you shall prevail: + Subject swords and dead men's words may stead you little, + If their old king-hating heart within you fail. + If your spirit of old, and not your bonds, be broken, + If the kingless heart be molten in your breasts, + By what signs and wonders, by what word or token, + Shall ye drive the vultures from your eagles' nests? + All the gains of tyrants Freedom counts for losses; + Nought of all the work done holds she worth the work, + When the slaves whose faith is set on crowns and crosses + Drive the Cossack bear against the tiger Turk. + Neither cross nor crown nor crescent shall ye bow to, + Nought of Araby nor Jewry, priest nor king: + As your watchword was of old, so be it now too: + As from lips long stilled, from yours let healing spring. + Through the fights of old, your battle-cry was healing, + And the Saviour that ye called on was the Sun: + Dawn by dawn behold in heaven your God, revealing + Light from darkness as when Marathon was won. + Gods were yours yet strange to Turk or Galilean, + Light and Wisdom only then as gods adored: + Pallas was your shield, your comforter was Pæan, + From your bright world's navel spake the Sun your Lord. + + Though the names be lost, and changed the signs of Light and Wisdom + be, [_Ep. 1._ + By these only shall men conquer, by these only be set free: + When the whole world's eye was Athens, these were yours, and theirs + were ye. + Light was given you of your wisdom, light ye gave the world again: + As the sun whose godhead lightened on her soul was Hellas then: + Yea, the least of all her children as the chosen of other men. + Change your hearts not with your garments, nor your faith with + creeds that change: + Truth was yours, the truth which time and chance transform not nor + estrange: + Purer truth nor higher abides not in the reach of time's whole + range. + Gods are they in all men's memories and for all time's periods, + They that hurled the host back seaward which had scourged the sea + with rods: + Gods for us are all your fathers, even the least of these as gods. + In the dark of days the thought of them is with us, strong to save, + They that had no lord, and made the Great King lesser than a slave; + They that rolled all Asia back on Asia, broken like a wave. + No man's men were they, no master's and no God's but these their + own: + Gods not loved in vain nor served amiss, nor all yet overthrown: + Love of country, Freedom, Wisdom, Light, and none save these alone. + King by king came up against them, sire and son, and turned to + flee: + Host on host roared westward, mightier each than each, if more + might be: + Field to field made answer, clamorous like as wave to wave at sea. + Strife to strife responded, loud as rocks to clangorous rocks + respond + Where the deep rings wreck to seamen held in tempest's thrall and + bond, + Till when war's bright work was perfect peace as radiant rose + beyond: + Peace made bright with fruit of battle, stronger made for storm + gone down, + With the flower of song held heavenward for the violet of her crown + Woven about the fragrant forehead of the fostress maiden's town. + Gods arose alive on earth from under stroke of human hands: + As the hands that wrought them, these are dead, and mixed with + time's dead sands: + But the godhead of supernal song, though these now stand not, + stands. + Pallas is not, Phoebus breathes no more in breathing brass or + gold: + Clytæmnestra towers, Cassandra wails, for ever: Time is bold, + But nor heart nor hand hath he to unwrite the scriptures writ of + old. + Dead the great chryselephantine God, as dew last evening shed: + Dust of earth or foam of ocean is the symbol of his head: + Earth and ocean shall be shadows when Prometheus shall be dead. + + Fame around her warriors living rang through Greece and lightened, + [_Str. 2._ + Moving equal with their stature, stately with their strength: + Thebes and Lacedæmon at their breathing presence brightened, + Sense or sound of them filled all the live land's breadth and + length. + All the lesser tribes put on the pure Athenian fashion, + One Hellenic heart was from the mountains to the sea: + Sparta's bitter self grew sweet with high half-human passion, + And her dry thorns flushed aflower in strait Thermopylæ. + Fruitless yet the flowers had fallen, and all the deeds died + fruitless, + Save that tongues of after men, the children of her peace, + Took the tale up of her glories, transient else and rootless, + And in ears and hearts of all men left the praise of Greece. + Fair the war-time was when still, as beacon answering beacon, + Sea to land flashed fight, and thundered note of wrath or cheer; + But the strength of noonday night hath power to waste and weaken, + Nor may light be passed from hand to hand of year to year + If the dying deed be saved not, ere it die for ever, + By the hands and lips of men more wise than years are strong; + If the soul of man take heed not that the deed die never, + Clothed about with purple and gold of story, crowned with song. + Still the burning heart of boy and man alike rejoices, + Hearing words which made it seem of old for all who sang + That their heaven of heavens waxed happier when from free men's + voices + _Well-beloved Harmodius and Aristogeiton_ rang. + Never fell such fragrance from the flower-month's rose-red kirtle + As from chaplets on the bright friends' brows who slew their + lord: + Greener grew the leaf and balmier blew the flower of myrtle + When its blossom sheathed the sheer tyrannicidal sword. + None so glorious garland crowned the feast Panathenæan + As this wreath too frail to fetter fast the Cyprian dove: + None so fiery song sprang sunwards annual as the pæan + Praising perfect love of friends and perfect country's love. + + Higher than highest of all those heavens wherefrom the starry + [_Ant. 2._ + Song of Homer shone above the rolling fight, + Gleams like spring's green bloom on boughs all gaunt and gnarry + Soft live splendour as of flowers of foam in flight, + Glows a glory of mild-winged maidens upward mounting + Sheer through air made shrill with strokes of smooth swift wings + Round the rocks beyond foot's reach, past eyesight's counting, + Up the cleft where iron wind of winter rings + Round a God fast clenched in iron jaws of fetters, + Him who culled for man the fruitful flower of fire, + Bared the darkling scriptures writ in dazzling letters, + Taught the truth of dreams deceiving men's desire, + Gave their water-wandering chariot-seats of ocean + Wings, and bade the rage of war-steeds champ the rein, + Showed the symbols of the wild birds' wheeling motion, + Waged for man's sake war with God and all his train. + Earth, whose name was also Righteousness, a mother + Many-named and single-natured, gave him breath + Whence God's wrath could wring but this word and none other-- + _He may smite me, yet he shall not do to death._ + Him the tongue that sang triumphant while tormented + Sang as loud the sevenfold storm that roared erewhile + Round the towers of Thebes till wrath might rest contented: + Sang the flight from smooth soft-sanded banks of Nile, + When like mateless doves that fly from snare or tether + Came the suppliants landwards trembling as they trod, + And the prayer took wing from all their tongues together-- + _King of kings, most holy of holies, blessed God._ + But what mouth may chant again, what heart may know it, + All the rapture that all hearts of men put on + When of Salamis the time-transcending poet + Sang, whose hand had chased the Mede at Marathon? + + Darker dawned the song with stormier wings above the watch-fire + spread [_Ep. 2._ + Whence from Ida toward the hill of Hermes leapt the light that said + Troy was fallen, a torch funereal for the king's triumphal head. + Dire indeed the birth of Leda's womb that had God's self to sire + Bloomed, a flower of love that stung the soul with fangs that gnaw + like fire: + But the twin-born human-fathered sister-flower bore fruit more + dire. + Scarce the cry that called on airy heaven and all swift winds on + wing, + Wells of river-heads, and countless laugh of waves past reckoning, + Earth which brought forth all, and the orbèd sun that looks on + everything, + Scarce that cry fills yet men's hearts more full of heart-devouring + dread + Than the murderous word said mocking, how the child whose blood he + shed + Might clasp fast and kiss her father where the dead salute the + dead. + But the latter note of anguish from the lips that mocked her lord, + When her son's hand bared against the breast that suckled him his + sword, + How might man endure, O Æschylus, to hear it and record? + How might man endure, being mortal yet, O thou most highest, to + hear? + How record, being born of woman? Surely not thy Furies near, + Surely this beheld, this only, blasted hearts to death with fear. + Not the hissing hair, nor flakes of blood that oozed from eyes of + fire, + Nor the snort of savage sleep that snuffed the hungering heart's + desire + Where the hunted prey found hardly space and harbour to respire; + She whose likeness called them--"Sleep ye, ho? what need of you + that sleep?" + (Ah, what need indeed, where she was, of all shapes that night may + keep + Hidden dark as death and deeper than men's dreams of hell are + deep?) + She the murderess of her husband, she the huntress of her son, + More than ye was she, the shadow that no God withstands but one, + Wisdom equal-eyed and stronger and more splendid than the sun. + Yea, no God may stand betwixt us and the shadows of our deeds, + Nor the light of dreams that lighten darkness, nor the prayer that + pleads, + But the wisdom equal-souled with heaven, the light alone that + leads. + Light whose law bids home those childless children of eternal + night, + Soothed and reconciled and mastered and transmuted in men's sight + Who behold their own souls, clothed with darkness once, now clothed + with light. + King of kings and father crowned of all our fathers crowned of + yore, + Lord of all the lords of song, whose head all heads bow down + before, + Glory be to thee from all thy sons in all tongues evermore. + + Rose and vine and olive and deep ivy-bloom entwining [_Str. 3._ + Close the goodliest grave that e'er they closeliest might entwine + Keep the wind from wasting and the sun from too strong shining + Where the sound and light of sweetest songs still float and + shine. + Here the music seems to illume the shade, the light to whisper + Song, the flowers to put not odours only forth, but words + Sweeter far than fragrance: here the wandering wreaths twine + crisper + Far, and louder far exults the note of all wild birds. + Thoughts that change us, joys that crown and sorrows that enthrone + us, + Passions that enrobe us with a clearer air than ours, + Move and breathe as living things beheld round white Colonus, + Audibler than melodies and visibler than flowers. + Love, in fight unconquered, Love, with spoils of great men laden, + Never sang so sweet from throat of woman or of dove: + Love, whose bed by night is in the soft cheeks of a maiden, + And his march is over seas, and low roofs lack not Love; + Nor may one of all that live, ephemeral or eternal, + Fly nor hide from Love; but whoso clasps him fast goes mad. + Never since the first-born year with flowers first-born grew vernal + Such a song made listening hearts of lovers glad or sad. + Never sounded note so radiant at the rayless portal + Opening wide on the all-concealing lowland of the dead + As the music mingling, when her doomsday marked her mortal, + From her own and old men's voices round the bride's way shed, + Round the grave her bride-house, hewn for endless habitation, + Where, shut out from sunshine, with no bridegroom by, she slept; + But beloved of all her dark and fateful generation, + But with all time's tears and praise besprinkled and bewept: + Well-beloved of outcast father and self-slaughtered mother, + Born, yet unpolluted, of their blind incestuous bed; + Best-beloved of him for whose dead sake she died, her brother, + Hallowing by her own life's gift her own born brother's head; + + Not with wine or oil nor any less libation [_Ant. 3._ + Hallowed, nor made sweet with humbler perfume's breath; + Not with only these redeemed from desecration, + But with blood and spirit of life poured forth to death; + Blood unspotted, spirit unsullied, life devoted, + Sister too supreme to make the bride's hope good, + Daughter too divine as woman to be noted, + Spouse of only death in mateless maidenhood. + Yea, in her was all the prayer fulfilled, the saying + All accomplished--_Would that fate would let me wear + Hallowed innocence of words and all deeds, weighing + Well the laws thereof, begot on holier air, + Far on high sublimely stablished, whereof only + Heaven is father; nor did birth of mortal mould + Bring them forth, nor shall oblivion lull to lonely + Slumber. Great in these is God, and grows not old._ + Therefore even that inner darkness where she perished + Surely seems as holy and lovely, seen aright, + As desirable and as dearly to be cherished, + As the haunt closed in with laurels from the light, + Deep inwound with olive and wild vine inwoven, + Where a godhead known and unknown makes men pale, + But the darkness of the twilight noon is cloven + Still with shrill sweet moan of many a nightingale. + Closer clustering there they make sweet noise together, + Where the fearful gods look gentler than our fear, + And the grove thronged through with birds of holiest feather + Grows nor pale nor dumb with sense of dark things near. + There her father, called upon with signs of wonder, + Passed with tenderest words away by ways unknown, + Not by sea-storm stricken down, nor touched of thunder, + To the dark benign deep underworld, alone. + + Third of three that ruled in Athens, kings with sceptral song for + staff, [_Ep. 3._ + Gladdest heart that God gave ever milk and wine of thought to + quaff, + Clearest eye that lightened ever to the broad lip's lordliest + laugh, + Praise be thine as theirs whose tragic brows the loftier leaf + engirds + For the live and lyric lightning of thy honey-hearted words, + Soft like sunny dewy wings of clouds and bright as crying of birds; + Full of all sweet rays and notes that make of earth and air and sea + One great light and sound of laughter from one great God's heart, + to be + Sign and semblance of the gladness of man's life where men breathe + free. + With no Loxian sound obscure God uttered once, and all time heard, + All the soul of Athens, all the soul of England, in that word: + Rome arose the second child of freedom: northward rose the third. + Ere her Boreal dawn came kindling seas afoam and fields of snow, + Yet again, while Europe groaned and grovelled, shone like suns + aglow + Doria splendid over Genoa, Venice bright with Dandolo. + Dead was Hellas, but Ausonia by the light of dead men's deeds + Rose and walked awhile alive, though mocked as whom the fen-fire + leads + By the creed-wrought faith of faithless souls that mock their + doubts with creeds. + Dead are these, and man is risen again: and haply now the three + Yet coequal and triune may stand in story, marked as free + By the token of the washing of the waters of the sea. + Athens first of all earth's kindred many-tongued and many-kinned + Had the sea to friend and comfort, and for kinsman had the wind: + She that bare Columbus next: then she that made her spoil of Ind. + She that hears not what man's rage but only what the sea-wind + saith: + She that turned Spain's ships to cloud-wrack at the blasting of her + breath, + By her strengths of strong-souled children and of strong winds done + to death. + North and south the Great King's galleons went in Persian wise: and + here + She, with Æschylean music on her lips that laughed back fear, + In the face of Time's grey godhead shook the splendour of her + spear. + Fair as Athens then with foot upon her foeman's front, and strong + Even as Athens for redemption of the world from sovereign wrong, + Like as Athens crowned she stood before the sun with crowning song. + All the world is theirs with whom is freedom: first of all the + free, + Blest are they whom song has crowned and clothed with blessing: + these as we, + These alone have part in spirit with the sun that crowns the sea. + + _April 1881._ + + + + + THE STATUE OF VICTOR HUGO + + + 1 + + Since in Athens God stood plain for adoration, + Since the sun beheld his likeness reared in stone, + Since the bronze or gold of human consecration + Gave to Greece her guardian's form and feature shown, + Never hand of sculptor, never heart of nation, + Found so glorious aim in all these ages flown + As is theirs who rear for all time's acclamation + Here the likeness of our mightiest and their own. + + + 2 + + Theirs and ours and all men's living who behold him + Crowned with garlands multiform and manifold; + Praise and thanksgiving of all mankind enfold him + Who for all men casts abroad his gifts of gold. + With the gods of song have all men's tongues enrolled him, + With the helpful gods have all men's hearts enrolled: + Ours he is who love him, ours whose hearts' hearts hold him + Fast as his the trust that hearts like his may hold. + + + 3 + + He, the heart most high, the spirit on earth most blameless, + Takes in charge all spirits, holds all hearts in trust: + As the sea-wind's on the sea his ways are tameless, + As the laws that steer the world his works are just. + All most noble feel him nobler, all most shameless + Feel his wrath and scorn make pale their pride and lust: + All most poor and lowliest, all whose wrongs were nameless, + Feel his word of comfort raise them from the dust. + + + 4 + + Pride of place and lust of empire bloody-fruited + Knew the blasting of his breath on leaf and fruit: + Now the hand that smote the death-tree now disrooted + Plants the refuge-tree that has man's hope for root. + Ah, but we by whom his darkness was saluted, + How shall now all we that see his day salute? + How should love not seem by love's own speech confuted, + Song before the sovereign singer not be mute? + + + 5 + + With what worship, by what blessing, in what measure, + May we sing of him, salute him, or adore, + With what hymn for praise, what thanksgiving for pleasure, + Who had given us more than heaven, and gives us more? + Heaven's whole treasury, filled up full with night's whole + treasure, + Holds not so divine or deep a starry store + As the soul supreme that deals forth worlds at leisure + Clothed with light and darkness, dense with flower and ore. + + + 6 + + Song had touched the bourn: fresh verses overflow it, + Loud and radiant, waves on waves on waves that throng; + Still the tide grows, and the sea-mark still below it + Sinks and shifts and rises, changed and swept along. + Rose it like a rock? the waters overthrow it, + And another stands beyond them sheer and strong: + Goal by goal pays down its prize, and yields its poet + Tribute claimed of triumph, palm achieved of song. + + + 7 + + Since his hand that holds the keys of fear and wonder + Opened on the high priest's dreaming eyes a door + Whence the lights of heaven and hell above and under + Shone, and smote the face that men bow down before, + Thrice again one singer's note had cloven in sunder + Night, who blows again not one blast now but four, + And the fourfold heaven is kindled with his thunder, + And the stars about his forehead are fourscore. + + + 8 + + From the deep soul's depths where alway love abounded + First had risen a song with healing on its wings + Whence the dews of mercy raining balms unbounded + Shed their last compassion even on sceptred things.[1] + Even on heads that like a curse the crown surrounded + Fell his crowning pity, soft as cleansing springs; + And the sweet last note his wrath relenting sounded + Bade men's hearts be melted not for slaves but kings. + + + 9 + + Next, that faith might strengthen fear and love embolden, + On the creeds of priests a scourge of sunbeams fell: + And its flash made bare the deeps of heaven, beholden + Not of men that cry, Lord, Lord, from church or cell.[2] + Hope as young as dawn from night obscure and olden + Rose again, such power abides in truth's one spell: + Night, if dawn it be that touches her, grows golden; + Tears, if such as angels weep, extinguish hell. + + + 10 + + Through the blind loud mills of barren blear-eyed learning + Where in dust and darkness children's foreheads bow, + While men's labour, vain as wind or water turning + Wheels and sails of dreams, makes life a leafless bough, + Fell the light of scorn and pity touched with yearning, + Next, from words that shone as heaven's own kindling brow.[3] + Stars were these as watch-fires on the world's waste burning, + Stars that fade not in the fourfold sunrise now.[4] + + + 11 + + Now the voice that faints not till all wrongs be wroken + Sounds as might the sun's song from the morning's breast, + All the seals of silence sealed of night are broken, + All the winds that bear the fourfold word are blest. + All the keen fierce east flames forth one fiery token; + All the north is loud with life that knows not rest, + All the south with song as though the stars had spoken; + All the judgment-fire of sunset scathes the west. + + + 12 + + Sound of pæan, roll of chanted panegyric, + Though by Pindar's mouth song's trumpet spake forth praise, + March of warrior songs in Pythian mood or Pyrrhic, + Though the blast were blown by lips of ancient days, + + Ring not clearer than the clarion of satiric + Song whose breath sweeps bare the plague-infected ways + Till the world be pure as heaven is for the lyric + Sun to rise up clothed with radiant sounds as rays. + + + 13 + + Clear across the cloud-rack fluctuant and erratic + As the strong star smiles that lets no mourner mourn, + Hymned alike from lips of Lesbian choirs or Attic + Once at evensong and morning newly born, + Clear and sure above the changes of dramatic + Tide and current, soft with love and keen with scorn, + Smiles the strong sweet soul of maidenhood, ecstatic + And inviolate as the red glad mouth of morn. + + + 14 + + Pure and passionate as dawn, whose apparition + Thrills with fire from heaven the wheels of hours that whirl, + Rose and passed her radiance in serene transition + From his eyes who sought a grain and found a pearl. + But the food by cunning hope for vain fruition + Lightly stolen away from keeping of a churl + Left the bitterness of death and hope's perdition + On the lip that scorn was wont for shame to curl.[5] + + + 15 + + Over waves that darken round the wave-worn rover + Rang his clarion higher than winds cried round the ship, + Rose a pageant of set suns and storms blown over, + Hands that held life's guerdons fast or let them slip. + But no tongue may tell, no thanksgiving discover, + Half the heaven of blessing, soft with clouds that drip, + Keen with beams that kindle, dear as love to lover, + Opening by the spell's strength on his lyric lip. + + + 16 + + By that spell the soul transfigured and dilated + Puts forth wings that widen, breathes a brightening air, + Feeds on light and drinks of music, whence elated + All her sense grows godlike, seeing all depths made bare, + All the mists wherein before she sat belated + Shrink, till now the sunlight knows not if they were; + All this earth transformed is Eden recreated, + With the breath of heaven remurmuring in her hair. + + + 17 + + Sweeter far than aught of sweet that April nurses + Deep in dew-dropt woodland folded fast and furled + Breathes the fragrant song whose burning dawn disperses + Darkness, like the surge of armies backward hurled, + Even as though the touch of spring's own hand, that pierces + Earth with life's delight, had hidden in the impearled + Golden bells and buds and petals of his verses + All the breath of all the flowers in all the world. + + + 18 + + But the soul therein, the light that our souls follow, + Fires and fills the song with more of prophet's pride, + More of life than all the gulfs of death may swallow, + More of flame than all the might of night may hide. + Though the whole dark age were loud and void and hollow, + Strength of trust were here, and help for all souls tried, + And a token from the flight of that strange swallow[6] + Whose migration still is toward the wintry side. + + + 19 + + Never came such token for divine solution + From the oraculous live darkness whence of yore + Ancient faith sought word of help and retribution, + Truth to lighten doubt, a sign to go before. + Never so baptismal waters of ablution + Bathed the brows of exile on so stern a shore, + Where the lightnings of the sea of revolution + Flashed across them ere its thunders yet might roar. + + + 20 + + By the lightning's light of present revelation + Shown, with epic thunder as from skies that frown, + Clothed in darkness as of darkling expiation, + Rose a vision of dead, stars and suns gone down, + Whence of old fierce fire devoured the star-struck nation, + Till its wrath and woe lit red the raging town, + Now made glorious with his statue's crowning station, + Where may never gleam again a viler crown. + + + 21 + + King, with time for throne and all the years for pages, + He shall reign though all thrones else be overhurled, + Served of souls that have his living words for wages, + Crowned of heaven each dawn that leaves his brows impearled; + Girt about with robes unrent of storm that rages, + Robes not wrought with hands, from no loom's weft unfurled; + All the praise of all earth's tongues in all earth's ages, + All the love of all men's hearts in all the world. + + + 22 + + Yet what hand shall carve the soul or cast the spirit, + Mould the face of fame, bid glory's feature glow? + Who bequeath for eyes of ages hence to inherit + Him, the Master, whom love knows not if it know? + Scarcely perfect praise of men man's work might merit, + Scarcely bid such aim to perfect stature grow, + Were his hand the hand of Phidias who shall rear it, + And his soul the very soul of Angelo. + + + 23 + + Michael, awful angel of the world's last session, + Once on earth, like him, with fire of suffering tried, + Thine it were, if man's it were, without transgression, + Thine alone, to take this toil upon thy pride. + Thine, whose heart was great against the world's oppression, + Even as his whose word is lamp and staff and guide: + Advocate for man, untired of intercession, + Pleads his voice for slaves whose lords his voice defied. + + + 24 + + Earth, with all the kings and thralls on earth, below it, + Heaven alone, with all the worlds in heaven, above, + Let his likeness rise for suns and stars to know it, + High for men to worship, plain for men to love: + Brow that braved the tides which fain would overflow it, + Lip that gave the challenge, hand that flung the glove; + Comforter and prophet, Paraclete and poet, + Soul whose emblems are an eagle and a dove. + + + 25 + + Sun, that hast not seen a loftier head wax hoary, + Earth, which hast not shown the sun a nobler birth, + Time, that hast not on thy scroll defiled and gory + One man's name writ brighter in its whole wide girth, + Witness, till the final years fulfil their story, + Till the stars break off the music of their mirth, + What among the sons of men was this man's glory, + What the vesture of his soul revealed on earth. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] _La Pitié Suprême._ 1879. + +[2] _Religions et Religion._ 1880. + +[3] _L'Ane._ 1880. + +[4] _Les Quatre Vents de l'Esprit._ I. _Le Livre satirique._ II. _Le +Livre dramatique._ III. _Le Livre lyrique._ IV. _Le Livre épique._ 1881. + +[5] _Les Deux Trouvailles de Gallus._ I. _Margarita, comédie._ II. +_Esca, drame._ + +[6] + + Je suis une hirondelle étrange, car j'émigre + Du côté de l'hiver. + + _Le Livre Lyrique_, liii. + + + + + EUTHANATOS + + IN MEMORY OF MRS. THELLUSSON + + + Forth of our ways and woes, + Forth of the winds and snows, + A white soul soaring goes, + Winged like a dove: + So sweet, so pure, so clear, + So heavenly tempered here, + Love need not hope or fear her changed above: + + Ere dawned her day to die, + So heavenly, that on high + Change could not glorify + Nor death refine her: + Pure gold of perfect love, + On earth like heaven's own dove, + She cannot wear, above, a smile diviner. + + Her voice in heaven's own quire + Can sound no heavenlier lyre + Than here: no purer fire + Her soul can soar: + No sweeter stars her eyes + In unimagined skies + Beyond our sight can rise than here before. + + Hardly long years had shed + Their shadows on her head: + Hardly we think her dead, + Who hardly thought her + Old: hardly can believe + The grief our hearts receive + And wonder while they grieve, as wrong were wrought her. + + But though strong grief be strong + No word or thought of wrong + May stain the trembling song, + Wring the bruised heart, + That sounds or sighs its faint + Low note of love, nor taint + Grief for so sweet a saint, when such depart. + + A saint whose perfect soul, + With perfect love for goal, + Faith hardly might control, + Creeds might not harden: + A flower more splendid far + Than the most radiant star + Seen here of all that are in God's own garden. + + Surely the stars we see + Rise and relapse as we, + And change and set, may be + But shadows too: + But spirits that man's lot + Could neither mar nor spot + Like these false lights are not, being heavenly true. + + Not like these dying lights + Of worlds whose glory smites + The passage of the nights + Through heaven's blind prison: + Not like their souls who see, + If thought fly far and free, + No heavenlier heaven to be for souls rerisen. + + A soul wherein love shone + Even like the sun, alone, + With fervour of its own + And splendour fed, + Made by no creeds less kind + Toward souls by none confined, + Could Death's self quench or blind, Love's self were dead. + + _February 4, 1881._ + + + + + FIRST AND LAST + + + Upon the borderlands of being, + Where life draws hardly breath + Between the lights and shadows fleeing + Fast as a word one saith, + Two flowers rejoice our eyesight, seeing + The dawns of birth and death. + + Behind the babe his dawn is lying + Half risen with notes of mirth + From all the winds about it flying + Through new-born heaven and earth: + Before bright age his day for dying + Dawns equal-eyed with birth. + + Equal the dews of even and dawn, + Equal the sun's eye seen + A hand's breadth risen and half withdrawn: + But no bright hour between + Brings aught so bright by stream or lawn + To noonday growths of green. + + Which flower of life may smell the sweeter + To love's insensual sense, + Which fragrance move with offering meeter + His soothed omnipotence, + Being chosen as fairer or as fleeter, + Borne hither or borne hence, + Love's foiled omniscience knows not: this + Were more than all he knows + With all his lore of bale and bliss, + The choice of rose and rose, + One red as lips that touch with his, + One white as moonlit snows. + + No hope is half so sweet and good, + No dream of saint or sage + So fair as these are: no dark mood + But these might best assuage; + The sweet red rose of babyhood, + The white sweet rose of age. + + + + + LINES ON THE DEATH OF EDWARD JOHN TRELAWNY + + + Last high star of the years whose thunder + Still men's listening remembrance hears, + Last light left of our fathers' years, + Watched with honour and hailed with wonder + Thee too then have the years borne under, + Thou too then hast regained thy peers. + + Wings that warred with the winds of morning, + Storm-winds rocking the red great dawn, + Close at last, and a film is drawn + Over the eyes of the storm-bird, scorning + Now no longer the loud wind's warning, + Waves that threaten or waves that fawn. + + Peers were none of thee left us living, + Peers of theirs we shall see no more. + Eight years over the full fourscore + Knew thee: now shalt thou sleep, forgiving + All griefs past of the wild world's giving, + Moored at last on the stormless shore. + + Worldwide liberty's lifelong lover, + Lover no less of the strength of song, + Sea-king, swordsman, hater of wrong, + Over thy dust that the dust shall cover + Comes my song as a bird to hover, + Borne of its will as of wings along. + + Cherished of thee were this brief song's brothers + Now that follows them, cherishing thee. + Over the tides and the tideless sea + Soft as a smile of the earth our mother's + Flies it faster than all those others, + First of the troop at thy tomb to be. + + Memories of Greece and the mountain's hollow + Guarded alone of thy loyal sword + Hold thy name for our hearts in ward: + Yet more fain are our hearts to follow + One way now with the southward swallow + Back to the grave of the man their lord. + + Heart of hearts, art thou moved not, hearing + Surely, if hearts of the dead may hear, + Whose true heart it is now draws near? + Surely the sense of it thrills thee, cheering + Darkness and death with the news now nearing-- + Shelley, Trelawny rejoins thee here. + + + + + ADIEUX À MARIE STUART + + + I + + Queen, for whose house my fathers fought, + With hopes that rose and fell, + Red star of boyhood's fiery thought, + Farewell. + + They gave their lives, and I, my queen, + Have given you of my life, + Seeing your brave star burn high between + Men's strife. + + The strife that lightened round their spears + Long since fell still: so long + Hardly may hope to last in years + My song. + + But still through strife of time and thought + Your light on me too fell: + Queen, in whose name we sang or fought, + Farewell. + + + II + + There beats no heart on either border + Wherethrough the north blasts blow + But keeps your memory as a warder + His beacon-fire aglow. + + Long since it fired with love and wonder + Mine, for whose April age + Blithe midsummer made banquet under + The shade of Hermitage. + + Soft sang the burn's blithe notes, that gather + Strength to ring true: + And air and trees and sun and heather + Remembered you. + + Old border ghosts of fight or fairy + Or love or teen, + These they forgot, remembering Mary + The Queen. + + + III + + Queen once of Scots and ever of ours + Whose sires brought forth for you + Their lives to strew your way like flowers. + Adieu. + + Dead is full many a dead man's name + Who died for you this long + Time past: shall this too fare the same, + My song? + + But surely, though it die or live, + Your face was worth + All that a man may think to give + On earth. + + No darkness cast of years between + Can darken you: + Man's love will never bid my queen + Adieu. + + + IV + + Love hangs like light about your name + As music round the shell: + No heart can take of you a tame + Farewell. + + Yet, when your very face was seen, + Ill gifts were yours for giving: + Love gat strange guerdons of my queen + When living. + + O diamond heart unflawed and clear, + The whole world's crowning jewel! + Was ever heart so deadly dear + So cruel? + + Yet none for you of all that bled + Grudged once one drop that fell: + Not one to life reluctant said + Farewell. + + + V + + Strange love they have given you, love disloyal, + Who mock with praise your name, + To leave a head so rare and royal + Too low for praise or blame. + + You could not love nor hate, they tell us, + You had nor sense nor sting: + In God's name, then, what plague befell us + To fight for such a thing? + + "Some faults the gods will give," to fetter + Man's highest intent: + But surely you were something better + Than innocent! + + No maid that strays with steps unwary + Through snares unseen, + But one to live and die for; Mary, + The Queen. + + + VI + + Forgive them all their praise, who blot + Your fame with praise of you: + Then love may say, and falter not, + Adieu. + + Yet some you hardly would forgive + Who did you much less wrong + Once: but resentment should not live + Too long. + + They never saw your lip's bright bow, + Your swordbright eyes, + The bluest of heavenly things below + The skies. + + Clear eyes that love's self finds most like + A swordblade's blue, + A swordblade's ever keen to strike, + Adieu. + + + VII + + Though all things breathe or sound of fight + That yet make up your spell, + To bid you were to bid the light + Farewell. + + Farewell the song says only, being + A star whose race is run: + Farewell the soul says never, seeing + The sun. + + Yet, wellnigh as with flash of tears, + The song must say but so + That took your praise up twenty years + Ago. + + More bright than stars or moons that vary, + Sun kindling heaven and hell, + Here, after all these years, Queen Mary, + Farewell. + + + + + HERSE + + + When grace is given us ever to behold + A child some sweet months old, + Love, laying across our lips his finger, saith, + Smiling, with bated breath, + Hush! for the holiest thing that lives is here, + And heaven's own heart how near! + How dare we, that may gaze not on the sun, + Gaze on this verier one? + Heart, hold thy peace; eyes, be cast down for shame; + Lips, breathe not yet its name. + In heaven they know what name to call it; we, + How should we know? For, see! + The adorable sweet living marvellous + Strange light that lightens us + Who gaze, desertless of such glorious grace, + Full in a babe's warm face! + All roses that the morning rears are nought, + All stars not worth a thought, + Set this one star against them, or suppose + As rival this one rose. + What price could pay with earth's whole weight of gold + One least flushed roseleaf's fold + Of all this dimpling store of smiles that shine + From each warm curve and line, + Each charm of flower-sweet flesh, to reillume + The dappled rose-red bloom + Of all its dainty body, honey-sweet + Clenched hands and curled-up feet, + That on the roses of the dawn have trod + As they came down from God, + And keep the flush and colour that the sky + Takes when the sun comes nigh, + And keep the likeness of the smile their grace + Evoked on God's own face + When, seeing this work of his most heavenly mood, + He saw that it was good? + For all its warm sweet body seems one smile, + And mere men's love too vile + To meet it, or with eyes that worship dims + Read o'er the little limbs, + Read all the book of all their beauties o'er, + Rejoice, revere, adore, + Bow down and worship each delight in turn, + Laugh, wonder, yield, and yearn. + But when our trembling kisses dare, yet dread, + Even to draw nigh its head, + And touch, and scarce with touch or breath surprise + Its mild miraculous eyes + Out of their viewless vision--O, what then, + What may be said of men? + What speech may name a new-born child? what word + Earth ever spake or heard? + The best men's tongue that ever glory knew + Called that a drop of dew + Which from the breathing creature's kindly womb + Came forth in blameless bloom. + We have no word, as had those men most high, + To call a baby by. + Rose, ruby, lily, pearl of stormless seas-- + A better word than these, + A better sign it was than flower or gem + That love revealed to them: + They knew that whence comes light or quickening flame, + Thence only this thing came, + And only might be likened of our love + To somewhat born above, + Not even to sweetest things dropped else on earth, + Only to dew's own birth. + Nor doubt we but their sense was heavenly true, + Babe, when we gaze on you, + A dew-drop out of heaven whose colours are + More bright than sun or star, + As now, ere watching love dare fear or hope, + Lips, hands, and eyelids ope, + And all your life is mixed with earthly leaven. + O child, what news from heaven? + + + + + TWINS + + AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO W. M. R. AND L. R. + + + April, on whose wings + Ride all gracious things, + Like the star that brings + All things good to man, + Ere his light, that yet + Makes the month shine, set, + And fair May forget + Whence her birth began, + + Brings, as heart would choose, + Sound of golden news, + Bright as kindling dews + When the dawn begins; + Tidings clear as mirth, + Sweet as air and earth + Now that hail the birth, + Twice thus blest, of twins. + + In the lovely land + Where with hand in hand + Lovers wedded stand + Other joys before + Made your mixed life sweet: + Now, as Time sees meet, + Three glad blossoms greet + Two glad blossoms more. + + Fed with sun and dew, + While your joys were new, + First arose and grew + One bright olive-shoot: + Then a fair and fine + Slip of warm-haired pine + Felt the sweet sun shine + On its leaf and fruit. + + And it wore for mark + Graven on the dark + Beauty of its bark + That the noblest name + Worn in song of old + By the king whose bold + Hand had fast in hold + All the flower of fame. + + Then, with southern skies + Flattered in her eyes, + Which, in lovelier wise + Yet, reflect their blue + Brightened more, being bright + Here with life's delight, + And with love's live light + Glorified anew, + + Came, as fair as came + One who bore her name + (She that broke as flame + From the swan-shell white), + Crowned with tender hair + Only, but more fair + Than all queens that were + Themes of oldworld fight, + + Of your flowers the third + Bud, or new-fledged bird + In your hearts' nest heard + Murmuring like a dove + Bright as those that drew + Over waves where blew + No loud wind the blue + Heaven-hued car of love. + + Not the glorious grace + Even of that one face + Potent to displace + All the towers of Troy + Surely shone more clear + Once with childlike cheer + Than this child's face here + Now with living joy. + + After these again + Here in April's train + Breaks the bloom of twain + Blossoms in one birth + For a crown of May + On the front of day + When he takes his way + Over heaven and earth. + + Half a heavenly thing + Given from heaven to Spring + By the sun her king, + Half a tender toy, + Seems a child of curl + Yet too soft to twirl; + Seems the flower-sweet girl + By the flower-bright boy. + + All the kind gods' grace, + All their love, embrace + Ever either face, + Ever brood above them: + All soft wings of hours + Screen them as with flowers + From all beams and showers: + All life's seasons love them. + + When the dews of sleep + Falling lightliest keep + Eyes too close to peep + Forth and laugh off rest, + Joy from face to feet + Fill them, as is meet: + Life to them be sweet + As their mother's breast. + + When those dews are dry, + And in day's bright eye + Looking full they lie + Bright as rose and pearl, + All returns of joy + Pure of time's alloy + Bless the rose-red boy, + Guard the rose-white girl. + + + POSTSCRIPT + + Friends, if I could take + Half a note from Blake + Or but one verse make + Of the Conqueror's mine, + Better than my best + Song above your nest + I would sing: the quest + Now seems too divine. + + _April 28, 1881._ + + + + + THE SALT OF THE EARTH + + + If childhood were not in the world, + But only men and women grown; + No baby-locks in tendrils curled, + No baby-blossoms blown; + + Though men were stronger, women fairer, + And nearer all delights in reach, + And verse and music uttered rarer + Tones of more godlike speech; + + Though the utmost life of life's best hours + Found, as it cannot now find, words; + Though desert sands were sweet as flowers + And flowers could sing like birds, + + But children never heard them, never + They felt a child's foot leap and run + This were a drearier star than ever + Yet looked upon the sun. + + + + + SEVEN YEARS OLD + + + I + + Seven white roses on one tree, + Seven white loaves of blameless leaven, + Seven white sails on one soft sea, + Seven white swans on one lake's lee, + Seven white flowerlike stars in heaven, + All are types unmeet to be + For a birthday's crown of seven. + + + II + + Not the radiance of the roses, + Not the blessing of the bread, + Not the breeze that ere day grows is + Fresh for sails and swans, and closes + Wings above the sun's grave spread, + When the starshine on the snows is + Sweet as sleep on sorrow shed. + + + III + + Nothing sweetest, nothing best, + Holds so good and sweet a treasure + As the love wherewith once blest + Joy grows holy, grief takes rest, + Life, half tired with hours to measure, + Fills his eyes and lips and breast + With most light and breath of pleasure; + + IV + + As the rapture unpolluted, + As the passion undefiled, + By whose force all pains heart-rooted + Are transfigured and transmuted, + Recompensed and reconciled, + Through the imperial, undisputed, + Present godhead of a child. + + + V + + Brown bright eyes and fair bright head, + Worth a worthier crown than this is, + Worth a worthier song instead, + Sweet grave wise round mouth, full fed + With the joy of love, whose bliss is + More than mortal wine and bread, + Lips whose words are sweet as kisses, + + + VI + + Little hands so glad of giving, + Little heart so glad of love, + Little soul so glad of living, + While the strong swift hours are weaving + Light with darkness woven above, + Time for mirth and time for grieving, + Plume of raven and plume of dove, + + + VII + + I can give you but a word + Warm with love therein for leaven, + But a song that falls unheard + Yet on ears of sense unstirred + Yet by song so far from heaven, + Whence you came the brightest bird, + Seven years since, of seven times seven. + + + + + EIGHT YEARS OLD + + + I + + Sun, whom the faltering snow-cloud fears, + Rise, let the time of year be May, + Speak now the word that April hears, + Let March have all his royal way; + Bid all spring raise in winter's ears + All tunes her children hear or play, + Because the crown of eight glad years + On one bright head is set to-day. + + + II + + What matters cloud or sun to-day + To him who wears the wreath of years + So many, and all like flowers at play + With wind and sunshine, while his ears + Hear only song on every way? + More sweet than spring triumphant hears + Ring through the revel-rout of May + Are these, the notes that winter fears. + + + III + + Strong-hearted winter knows and fears + The music made of love at play, + Or haply loves the tune he hears + From hearts fulfilled with flowering May, + Whose molten music thaws his ears + Late frozen, deaf but yesterday + To sounds of dying and dawning years, + Now quickened on his deathward way. + + + IV + + For deathward now lies winter's way + Down the green vestibule of years + That each year brightens day by day + With flower and shower till hope scarce fears + And fear grows wholly hope of May. + But we--the music in our ears + Made of love's pulses as they play + The heart alone that makes it hears. + + + V + + The heart it is that plays and hears + High salutation of to-day. + Tongue falters, hand shrinks back, song fears + Its own unworthiness to play + Fit music for those eight sweet years, + Or sing their blithe accomplished way. + No song quite worth a young child's ears + Broke ever even from birds in May. + + + VI + + There beats not in the heart of May, + When summer hopes and springtide fears, + There falls not from the height of day, + When sunlight speaks and silence hears, + So sweet a psalm as children play + And sing, each hour of all their years, + Each moment of their lovely way, + And know not how it thrills our ears. + + + VII + + Ah child, what are we, that our ears + Should hear you singing on your way, + Should have this happiness? The years + Whose hurrying wings about us play + Are not like yours, whose flower-time fears + Nought worse than sunlit showers in May, + Being sinless as the spring, that hears + Her own heart praise her every day. + + + VIII + + Yet we too triumph in the day + That bare, to entrance our eyes and ears, + To lighten daylight, and to play + Such notes as darkness knows and fears, + The child whose face illumes our way, + Whose voice lifts up the heart that hears, + Whose hand is as the hand of May + To bring us flowers from eight full years. + + _February 4, 1882._ + + + + + COMPARISONS + + + Child, when they say that others + Have been or are like you, + Babes fit to be your brothers, + Sweet human drops of dew, + Bright fruit of mortal mothers, + What should one say or do? + + We know the thought is treason, + We feel the dream absurd; + A claim rebuked of reason, + That withers at a word: + For never shone the season + That bore so blithe a bird. + + Some smiles may seem as merry, + Some glances gleam as wise, + From lips as like a cherry + And scarce less gracious eyes; + Eyes browner than a berry, + Lips red as morning's rise. + + But never yet rang laughter + So sweet in gladdened ears + Through wall and floor and rafter + As all this household hears + And rings response thereafter + Till cloudiest weather clears. + + When those your chosen of all men, + Whose honey never cloys, + Two lights whose smiles enthrall men, + Were called at your age boys, + Those mighty men, while small men, + Could make no merrier noise. + + Our Shakespeare, surely, daffed not + More lightly pain aside + From radiant lips that quaffed not + Of forethought's tragic tide: + Our Dickens, doubtless, laughed not + More loud with life's first pride. + + The dawn were not more cheerless + With neither light nor dew + Than we without the fearless + Clear laugh that thrills us through: + If ever child stood peerless, + Love knows that child is you. + + + + + WHAT IS DEATH? + + + Looking on a page where stood + Graven of old on old-world wood + Death, and by the grave's edge grim, + Pale, the young man facing him, + Asked my well-beloved of me + Once what strange thing; this might be, + Gaunt and great of limb. + + Death, I told him: and, surprise + Deepening more his wildwood eyes + (Like some sweet fleet thing's whose breath + Speaks all spring though nought it saith), + Up he turned his rosebright face + Glorious with its seven years' grace, + Asking--What is death? + + + + + A CHILD'S PITY + + + No sweeter thing than children's ways and wiles, + Surely, we say, can gladden eyes and ears: + Yet sometime sweeter than their words or smiles + Are even their tears. + + To one for once a piteous tale was read, + How, when the murderous mother crocodile + Was slain, her fierce brood famished, and lay dead, + Starved, by the Nile. + + In vast green reed-beds on the vast grey slime + Those monsters motherless and helpless lay, + Perishing only for the parent's crime + Whose seed were they. + + Hours after, toward the dusk, our blithe small bird + Of Paradise, who has our hearts in keeping, + Was heard or seen, but hardly seen or heard, + For pity weeping. + + He was so sorry, sitting still apart, + For the poor little crocodiles, he said. + Six years had given him, for an angel's heart, + A child's instead. + + Feigned tears the false beasts shed for murderous ends, + We know from travellers' tales of crocodiles: + But these tears wept upon them of my friend's + Outshine his smiles. + + What heavenliest angels of what heavenly city + Could match the heavenly heart in children here? + The heart that hallowing all things with its pity + Casts out all fear? + + So lovely, so divine, so dear their laughter + Seems to us, we know not what could be more dear: + But lovelier yet we see the sign thereafter + Of such a tear. + + With sense of love half laughing and half weeping + We met your tears, our small sweet-spirited friend: + Let your love have us in its heavenly keeping + To life's last end. + + + + + A CHILD'S LAUGHTER + + + All the bells of heaven may ring, + All the birds of heaven may sing, + All the wells on earth may spring, + All the winds on earth may bring + All sweet sounds together; + Sweeter far than all things heard, + Hand of harper, tone of bird, + Sound of woods at sundawn stirred, + Welling water's winsome word, + Wind in warm wan weather, + + One thing yet there is, that none + Hearing ere its chime be done + Knows not well the sweetest one + Heard of man beneath the sun, + Hoped in heaven hereafter; + Soft and strong and loud and light, + Very sound of very light + Heard from morning's rosiest height, + When the soul of all delight + Fills a child's clear laughter. + + Golden bells of welcome rolled + Never forth such notes, nor told + Hours so blithe in tones so bold, + As the radiant mouth of gold + Here that rings forth heaven. + If the golden-crested wren + Were a nightingale--why, then, + Something seen and heard of men + Might be half as sweet as when + Laughs a child of seven. + + + + + A CHILD'S THANKS + + + How low soe'er men rank us, + How high soe'er we win, + The children far above us + Dwell, and they deign to love us, + With lovelier love than ours, + And smiles more sweet than flowers; + As though the sun should thank us + For letting light come in. + + With too divine complaisance, + Whose grace misleads them thus, + Being gods, in heavenly blindness + They call our worship kindness, + Our pebble-gift a gem: + They think us good to them, + Whose glance, whose breath, whose presence, + Are gifts too good for us. + + The poet high and hoary + Of meres that mountains bind + Felt his great heart more often + Yearn, and its proud strength soften + From stern to tenderer mood, + At thought of gratitude + Shown than of song or story + He heard of hearts unkind. + + But with what words for token + And what adoring tears + Of reverence risen to passion, + In what glad prostrate fashion + Of spirit and soul subdued, + May man show gratitude + For thanks of children spoken + That hover in his ears? + + The angels laugh, your brothers, + Child, hearing you thank me, + With eyes whence night grows sunny, + And touch of lips like honey, + And words like honey-dew: + But how shall I thank you? + For gifts above all others + What guerdon-gift may be? + + What wealth of words caressing, + What choice of songs found best, + Would seem not as derision, + Found vain beside the vision + And glory from above + Shown in a child's heart's love? + His part in life is blessing; + Ours, only to be blest. + + + + + A CHILD'S BATTLES + + +pyx aretan heurôn+.--PINDAR. + + + Praise of the knights of old + May sleep: their tale is told, + And no man cares: + The praise which fires our lips is + A knight's whose fame eclipses + All of theirs. + + The ruddiest light in heaven + Blazed as his birth-star seven + Long years ago: + All glory crown that old year + Which brought our stout small soldier + With the snow! + + Each baby born has one + Star, for his friends a sun, + The first of stars: + And we, the more we scan it, + The more grow sure your planet, + Child, was Mars. + + For each one flower, perchance, + Blooms as his cognizance: + The snowdrop chill, + The violet unbeholden, + For some: for you the golden + Daffodil. + + Erect, a fighting flower, + It breasts the breeziest hour + That ever blew. + And bent or broke things brittle + Or frail, unlike a little + Knight like you. + + Its flower is firm and fresh + And stout like sturdiest flesh + Of children: all + The strenuous blast that parches + Spring hurts it not till March is + Near his fall. + + If winds that prate and fret + Remark, rebuke, regret, + Lament, or blame + The brave plant's martial passion, + It keeps its own free fashion + All the same. + + We that would fain seem wise + Assume grave mouths and eyes + Whose looks reprove + Too much delight in battle: + But your great heart our prattle + Cannot move. + + We say, small children should + Be placid, mildly good + And blandly meek: + Whereat the broad smile rushes + Full on your lips, and flushes + All your cheek. + + If all the stars that are + Laughed out, and every star + Could here be heard, + Such peals of golden laughter + We should not hear, as after + Such a word. + + For all the storm saith, still, + Stout stands the daffodil: + For all we say, + Howe'er he look demurely, + Our martialist will surely + Have his way. + + We may not bind with bands + Those large and liberal hands, + Nor stay from fight, + Nor hold them back from giving: + No lean mean laws of living + Bind a knight. + + And always here of old + Such gentle hearts and bold + Our land has bred: + How durst her eye rest else on + The glory shed from Nelson + Quick and dead? + + Shame were it, if but one + Such once were born her son, + That one to have borne, + And brought him ne'er a brother: + His praise should bring his mother + Shame and scorn. + + A child high-souled as he + Whose manhood shook the sea + Smiles haply here: + His face, where love lies basking, + With bright shut mouth seems asking, + What is fear? + + The sunshine-coloured fists + Beyond his dimpling wrists + Were never closed + For saving or for sparing-- + For only deeds of daring + Predisposed. + + Unclenched, the gracious hands + Let slip their gifts like sands + Made rich with ore + That tongues of beggars ravish + From small stout hands so lavish + Of their store. + + Sweet hardy kindly hands + Like these were his that stands + With heel on gorge + Seen trampling down the dragon + On sign or flask or flagon, + Sweet Saint George. + + Some tournament, perchance, + Of hands that couch no lance, + Might mark this spot + Your lists, if here some pleasant + Small Guenevere were present, + Launcelot. + + My brave bright flower, you need + No foolish song, nor heed + It more than spring + The sighs of winter stricken + Dead when your haunts requicken + Here, my king. + + Yet O, how hardly may + The wheels of singing stay + That whirl along + Bright paths whence echo raises + The phantom of your praises, + Child, my song! + + Beyond all other things + That give my words fleet wings, + Fleet wings and strong, + You set their jesses ringing + Till hardly can I, singing, + Stint my song. + + But all things better, friend, + And worse must find an end: + And, right or wrong, + 'Tis time, lest rhyme should baffle, + I doubt, to put a snaffle + On my song. + + And never may your ear + Aught harsher hear or fear, + Nor wolfish night + Nor dog-toothed winter snarling + Behind your steps, my darling + My delight! + + For all the gifts you give + Me, dear, each day you live, + Of thanks above + All thanks that could be spoken + Take not my song in token, + Take my love. + + + + + A CHILD'S FUTURE + + + What will it please you, my darling, hereafter to be? + Fame upon land will you look for, or glory by sea? + Gallant your life will be always, and all of it free. + + Free as the wind when the heart of the twilight is stirred + Eastward, and sounds from the springs of the sunrise are heard: + Free--and we know not another as infinite word. + + Darkness or twilight or sunlight may compass us round, + Hate may arise up against us, or hope may confound; + Love may forsake us; yet may not the spirit be bound. + + Free in oppression of grief as in ardour of joy + Still may the soul be, and each to her strength as a toy: + Free in the glance of the man as the smile of the boy. + + Freedom alone is the salt and the spirit that gives + Life, and without her is nothing that verily lives: + Death cannot slay her: she laughs upon death and forgives. + + Brightest and hardiest of roses anear and afar + Glitters the blithe little face of you, round as a star: + Liberty bless you and keep you to be as you are. + + England and liberty bless you and keep you to be + Worthy the name of their child and the sight of their sea: + Fear not at all; for a slave, if he fears not, is free. + + + + + SUNRISE + + + If the wind and the sunlight of April and August had mingled the + past and hereafter + In a single adorable season whose life were a rapture of love and + of laughter, + And the blithest of singers were back with a song; if again from + his tomb as from prison, + If again from the night or the twilight of ages Aristophanes had + arisen, + With the gold-feathered wings of a bird that were also a god upon + earth at his shoulders, + And the gold-flowing laugh of the manhood of old at his lips, for a + joy to beholders, + He alone unrebuked of presumption were able to set to some adequate + measure + The delight of our eyes in the dawn that restores them the sun of + their sense and the pleasure. + For the days of the darkness of spirit are over for all of us here, + and the season + When desire was a longing, and absence a thorn, and rejoicing a + word without reason. + For the roof overhead of the pines is astir with delight as of + jubilant voices, + And the floor underfoot of the bracken and heather alive as a heart + that rejoices. + For the house that was childless awhile, and the light of it + darkened, the pulse of it dwindled, + Rings radiant again with a child's bright feet, with the light of + his face is rekindled. + And the ways of the meadows that knew him, the sweep of the down + that the sky's belt closes, + Grow gladder at heart than the soft wind made them whose feet were + but fragrant with roses, + Though the fall of the year be upon us, who trusted in June and by + June were defrauded, + And the summer that brought us not back the desire of our eyes be + gone hence unapplauded. + For July came joyless among us, and August went out from us arid + and sterile, + And the hope of our hearts, as it seemed, was no more than a flower + that the seasons imperil, + And the joy of our hearts, as it seemed, than a thought which + regret had not heart to remember, + Till four dark months overpast were atoned for, and summer began in + September. + Hark, April again as a bird in the house with a child's voice + hither and thither: + See, May in the garden again with a child's face cheering the woods + ere they wither. + June laughs in the light of his eyes, and July on the sunbright + cheeks of him slumbers, + And August glows in a smile more sweet than the cadence of + gold-mouthed numbers. + In the morning the sight of him brightens the sun, and the noon + with delight in him flushes, + And the silence of nightfall is music about him as soft as the + sleep that it hushes. + We awake with a sense of a sunrise that is not a gift of the + sundawn's giving, + And a voice that salutes us is sweeter than all sounds else in the + world of the living, + And a presence that warms us is brighter than all in the world of + our visions beholden, + Though the dreams of our sleep were as those that the light of a + world without grief makes golden. + For the best that the best of us ever devised as a likeness of + heaven and its glory, + What was it of old, or what is it and will be for ever, in song or + in story, + Or in shape or in colour of carven or painted resemblance, adored + of all ages, + But a vision recorded of children alive in the pictures of old or + the pages? + Where children are not, heaven is not, and heaven if they come not + again shall be never: + But the face and the voice of a child are assurance of heaven and + its promise for ever. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Studies in Song, A Century of +Roundels, Sonnets on English Dramatic Poets, The Heptalogia, Etc, by Algernon Charles Swinburne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STUDIES IN SONG *** + +***** This file should be named 18782-8.txt or 18782-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/7/8/18782/ + +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: Studies in Song, A Century of Roundels, Sonnets on English Dramatic Poets, The Heptalogia, Etc + From Swinburne's Poems Volume V. + +Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne + +Release Date: July 8, 2006 [EBook #18782] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STUDIES IN SONG *** + + + + +Produced by Paul Murray, Lisa Reigel, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class = "mynote">Transcriber's Note:<br /><br /> +Greek words that may not display correctly in all browsers are +transliterated in the text using popups like this: +<ins class="greekcorr" title="biblos">βιβλος</ins>. +Position your mouse over the word to see the transliteration.<br /></div> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em"> </p> + + +<div class="bbox"> +<ul class="contents"> +<li class="spaced" style="margin-top: 2em; font-size: 190%;">Various Poems:</li> +<li class="spaced">Athens: An Ode</li> +<li class="spaced">The Statue of Victor Hugo</li> +<li class="spaced">Euthanatos</li> +<li class="spaced">First and Last</li> +<li class="spaced">Lines on the Death of Edward John Trelawny</li> +<li class="spaced">Adieux à Marie Stuart</li> +<li class="spaced">Herse</li> +<li class="spaced">Twins</li> +<li class="spaced">The Salt of the Earth</li> +<li class="spaced">Seven Years Old</li> +<li class="spaced">Eight Years Old</li> +<li class="spaced">Comparisons</li> +<li class="spaced">What is Death?</li> +<li class="spaced">A Child's Pity</li> +<li class="spaced">A Child's Laughter</li> +<li class="spaced">A Child's Thanks</li> +<li class="spaced">A Child's Battles</li> +<li class="spaced">A Child's Future</li> +<li class="spaced">Sunrise</li> +</ul></div> + +<h4 style="margin-top: 6em;">By</h4> + +<h2>Algernon Charles Swinburne</h2> + +<h4 class="biggap">TAKEN FROM<br /></h4> + +<h3 style="margin-bottom: 3em;">THE COLLECTED POETICAL WORKS OF ALGERNON CHARLES +SWINBURNE—VOL V</h3> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3 style="margin-top: 3em;">THE COLLECTED POETICAL WORKS OF ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE</h3> + +<h5>VOL. V</h5> + +<h4 style="margin-top: 3em;">STUDIES IN SONG: A CENTURY OF ROUNDELS: SONNETS ON ENGLISH DRAMATIC +POETS: THE HEPTALOGIA: ETC.</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 style="margin-top: 3em;">SWINBURNE'S POETICAL WORKS</h2> + + +<div class='centered'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="8" summary="works"> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">I.</td> + <td class="tdleft"><span class="smcap">Poems and Ballads</span> (First Series).<br /></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">II.</td> + <td class="tdleft"><span class="smcap">Songs before Sunrise</span>, and <span class="smcap">Songs of Two Nations</span>.<br /></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">III.</td> + <td class="tdleft"><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="tdright">IV.</td> + <td class="tdleft"><span class="smcap">Tristram of Lyonesse, The Tale of Balen, Atalanta in Calydon, Erechtheus.<br /></span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">V.</td> + <td class="tdleft"><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="tdright">VI.</td> + <td class="tdleft"><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">STUDIES IN SONG: A CENTURY OF ROUNDELS: SONNETS ON ENGLISH DRAMATIC +POETS: THE HEPTALOGIA: ETC.</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 (Chatto), 1904</i><br /> + +<i>Reprinted 1904, '09, '10, '12</i><br /> + +<i>(Heinemann), 1917</i></p> + + +<p class="center gap"><i>London: William Heinemann, 1917</i></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="centered"> +<table width="80%" cellpadding="3" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdright">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Athens: An Ode</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_195">194</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">The Statue of Victor Hugo</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Euthanatos</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">First and Last</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Lines on the Death of Edward John Trelawny</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Adieux à Marie Stuart</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Herse</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Twins</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">The Salt of the Earth</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Seven Years Old</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Eight Years Old</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Comparisons</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_278">278</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">What is Death?</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_280">280</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">A Child's Pity</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">A Child's Laughter</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">A Child's Thanks</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">A Child's Battles</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">A Child's Future</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Sunrise</span></td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_368">368</a></td> +</tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> +<h2 style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;">ATHENS: AN ODE</h2> + +<p><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> +<h2>ATHENS</h2> + +<h3>AN ODE</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere from under earth again like fire the violet kindle,</span> <span class="linenum">[<i>Str. 1.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ere the holy buds and hoar on olive-branches bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere the crescent of the last pale month of winter dwindle,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shrink, and fall as falls a dead leaf on the dead month's tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the hills whose heights the first-born olive-blossom brightened,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Round the city brow-bound once with violets like a bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up from under earth again a light that long since lightened<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Breaks, whence all the world took comfort as all time takes pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pride have all men in their fathers that were free before them,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the warriors that begat us free-born pride have we:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the fathers of their spirits, how may men adore them,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With what rapture may we praise, who bade our souls be free?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span><span class="i0">Sons of Athens born in spirit and truth are all born free men;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Most of all, we, nurtured where the north wind holds his reign:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Children all we sea-folk of the Salaminian seamen,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sons of them that beat back Persia they that beat back Spain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the songs of Greece fell silent, none like ours have risen;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Since the sails of Greece fell slack, no ships have sailed like ours;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How should we lament not, if her spirit sit in prison?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How should we rejoice not, if her wreaths renew their flowers?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the world is sweeter, if the Athenian violet quicken:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the world is brighter, if the Athenian sun return:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All things foul on earth wax fainter, by that sun's light stricken:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All ill growths are withered, where those fragrant flower-lights burn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the wandering waves of seas with all their warring waters<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Roll the record on for ever of the sea-fight there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the capes were battle's lists, and all the straits were slaughter's,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the myriad Medes as foam-flakes on the scattering air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ours the lightning was that cleared the north and lit the nations,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But the light that gave the whole world light of old was she:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span><span class="i0">Ours an age or twain, but hers are endless generations:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the world is hers at heart, and most of all are we.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye that bear the name about you of her glory,</span> <span class="linenum">[<i>Ant. 1.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1">Men that wear the sign of Greeks upon you sealed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yours is yet the choice to write yourselves in story<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sons of them that fought the Marathonian field.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slaves of no man were ye, said your warrior poet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Neither subject unto man as underlings:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yours is now the season here wherein to show it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If the seed ye be of them that knew not kings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ye be not, swords nor words alike found brittle<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From the dust of death to raise you shall prevail:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subject swords and dead men's words may stead you little,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If their old king-hating heart within you fail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If your spirit of old, and not your bonds, be broken,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If the kingless heart be molten in your breasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By what signs and wonders, by what word or token,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall ye drive the vultures from your eagles' nests?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the gains of tyrants Freedom counts for losses;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nought of all the work done holds she worth the work,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the slaves whose faith is set on crowns and crosses<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Drive the Cossack bear against the tiger Turk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither cross nor crown nor crescent shall ye bow to,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nought of Araby nor Jewry, priest nor king:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As your watchword was of old, so be it now too:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As from lips long stilled, from yours let healing spring.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span><span class="i0">Through the fights of old, your battle-cry was healing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the Saviour that ye called on was the Sun:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dawn by dawn behold in heaven your God, revealing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Light from darkness as when Marathon was won.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gods were yours yet strange to Turk or Galilean,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Light and Wisdom only then as gods adored:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pallas was your shield, your comforter was Pæan,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From your bright world's navel spake the Sun your Lord.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though the names be lost, and changed the signs of Light and Wisdom be,</span> <span class="linenum">[<i>Ep. 1.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">By these only shall men conquer, by these only be set free:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the whole world's eye was Athens, these were yours, and theirs were ye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light was given you of your wisdom, light ye gave the world again:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the sun whose godhead lightened on her soul was Hellas then:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, the least of all her children as the chosen of other men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Change your hearts not with your garments, nor your faith with creeds that change:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Truth was yours, the truth which time and chance transform not nor estrange:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Purer truth nor higher abides not in the reach of time's whole range.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gods are they in all men's memories and for all time's periods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They that hurled the host back seaward which had scourged the sea with rods:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gods for us are all your fathers, even the least of these as gods.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span><span class="i0">In the dark of days the thought of them is with us, strong to save,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They that had no lord, and made the Great King lesser than a slave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They that rolled all Asia back on Asia, broken like a wave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man's men were they, no master's and no God's but these their own:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gods not loved in vain nor served amiss, nor all yet overthrown:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love of country, Freedom, Wisdom, Light, and none save these alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">King by king came up against them, sire and son, and turned to flee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Host on host roared westward, mightier each than each, if more might be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Field to field made answer, clamorous like as wave to wave at sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strife to strife responded, loud as rocks to clangorous rocks respond<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the deep rings wreck to seamen held in tempest's thrall and bond,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till when war's bright work was perfect peace as radiant rose beyond:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace made bright with fruit of battle, stronger made for storm gone down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the flower of song held heavenward for the violet of her crown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woven about the fragrant forehead of the fostress maiden's town.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gods arose alive on earth from under stroke of human hands:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the hands that wrought them, these are dead, and mixed with time's dead sands:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span><span class="i0">But the godhead of supernal song, though these now stand not, stands.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pallas is not, Phœbus breathes no more in breathing brass or gold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clytæmnestra towers, Cassandra wails, for ever: Time is bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nor heart nor hand hath he to unwrite the scriptures writ of old.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dead the great chryselephantine God, as dew last evening shed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dust of earth or foam of ocean is the symbol of his head:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth and ocean shall be shadows when Prometheus shall be dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fame around her warriors living rang through Greece and lightened,</span> <span class="linenum">[<i>Str. 2.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1">Moving equal with their stature, stately with their strength:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thebes and Lacedæmon at their breathing presence brightened,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sense or sound of them filled all the live land's breadth and length.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the lesser tribes put on the pure Athenian fashion,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One Hellenic heart was from the mountains to the sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sparta's bitter self grew sweet with high half-human passion,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And her dry thorns flushed aflower in strait Thermopylæ.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fruitless yet the flowers had fallen, and all the deeds died fruitless,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Save that tongues of after men, the children of her peace,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span><span class="i0">Took the tale up of her glories, transient else and rootless,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And in ears and hearts of all men left the praise of Greece.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair the war-time was when still, as beacon answering beacon,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sea to land flashed fight, and thundered note of wrath or cheer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the strength of noonday night hath power to waste and weaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor may light be passed from hand to hand of year to year<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the dying deed be saved not, ere it die for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By the hands and lips of men more wise than years are strong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the soul of man take heed not that the deed die never,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Clothed about with purple and gold of story, crowned with song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still the burning heart of boy and man alike rejoices,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hearing words which made it seem of old for all who sang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That their heaven of heavens waxed happier when from free men's voices<br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>Well-beloved Harmodius and Aristogeiton</i> rang.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never fell such fragrance from the flower-month's rose-red kirtle<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As from chaplets on the bright friends' brows who slew their lord:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Greener grew the leaf and balmier blew the flower of myrtle<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When its blossom sheathed the sheer tyrannicidal sword.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span><span class="i0">None so glorious garland crowned the feast Panathenæan<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As this wreath too frail to fetter fast the Cyprian dove:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None so fiery song sprang sunwards annual as the pæan<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Praising perfect love of friends and perfect country's love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Higher than highest of all those heavens wherefrom the starry</span> <span class="linenum">[<i>Ant. 2.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1">Song of Homer shone above the rolling fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleams like spring's green bloom on boughs all gaunt and gnarry<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Soft live splendour as of flowers of foam in flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glows a glory of mild-winged maidens upward mounting<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sheer through air made shrill with strokes of smooth swift wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the rocks beyond foot's reach, past eyesight's counting,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Up the cleft where iron wind of winter rings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round a God fast clenched in iron jaws of fetters,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Him who culled for man the fruitful flower of fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bared the darkling scriptures writ in dazzling letters,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Taught the truth of dreams deceiving men's desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave their water-wandering chariot-seats of ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wings, and bade the rage of war-steeds champ the rein,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Showed the symbols of the wild birds' wheeling motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Waged for man's sake war with God and all his train.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span><span class="i0">Earth, whose name was also Righteousness, a mother<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Many-named and single-natured, gave him breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence God's wrath could wring but this word and none other—<br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>He may smite me, yet he shall not do to death.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Him the tongue that sang triumphant while tormented<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sang as loud the sevenfold storm that roared erewhile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the towers of Thebes till wrath might rest contented:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sang the flight from smooth soft-sanded banks of Nile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When like mateless doves that fly from snare or tether<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Came the suppliants landwards trembling as they trod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the prayer took wing from all their tongues together—<br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>King of kings, most holy of holies, blessed God.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what mouth may chant again, what heart may know it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the rapture that all hearts of men put on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When of Salamis the time-transcending poet<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sang, whose hand had chased the Mede at Marathon?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Darker dawned the song with stormier wings above the watch-fire spread</span> <span class="linenum">[<i>Ep. 2.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence from Ida toward the hill of Hermes leapt the light that said<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span><span class="i0">Troy was fallen, a torch funereal for the king's triumphal head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dire indeed the birth of Leda's womb that had God's self to sire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bloomed, a flower of love that stung the soul with fangs that gnaw like fire:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the twin-born human-fathered sister-flower bore fruit more dire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce the cry that called on airy heaven and all swift winds on wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wells of river-heads, and countless laugh of waves past reckoning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth which brought forth all, and the orbèd sun that looks on everything,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce that cry fills yet men's hearts more full of heart-devouring dread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than the murderous word said mocking, how the child whose blood he shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might clasp fast and kiss her father where the dead salute the dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the latter note of anguish from the lips that mocked her lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When her son's hand bared against the breast that suckled him his sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How might man endure, O Æschylus, to hear it and record?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How might man endure, being mortal yet, O thou most highest, to hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How record, being born of woman? Surely not thy Furies near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surely this beheld, this only, blasted hearts to death with fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the hissing hair, nor flakes of blood that oozed from eyes of fire,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span><span class="i0">Nor the snort of savage sleep that snuffed the hungering heart's desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the hunted prey found hardly space and harbour to respire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She whose likeness called them—"Sleep ye, ho? what need of you that sleep?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Ah, what need indeed, where she was, of all shapes that night may keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hidden dark as death and deeper than men's dreams of hell are deep?)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She the murderess of her husband, she the huntress of her son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than ye was she, the shadow that no God withstands but one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wisdom equal-eyed and stronger and more splendid than the sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, no God may stand betwixt us and the shadows of our deeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the light of dreams that lighten darkness, nor the prayer that pleads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the wisdom equal-souled with heaven, the light alone that leads.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light whose law bids home those childless children of eternal night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soothed and reconciled and mastered and transmuted in men's sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who behold their own souls, clothed with darkness once, now clothed with light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">King of kings and father crowned of all our fathers crowned of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord of all the lords of song, whose head all heads bow down before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glory be to thee from all thy sons in all tongues evermore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span><span class="i0">Rose and vine and olive and deep ivy-bloom entwining</span> <span class="linenum">[<i>Str. 3.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1">Close the goodliest grave that e'er they closeliest might entwine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep the wind from wasting and the sun from too strong shining<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where the sound and light of sweetest songs still float and shine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here the music seems to illume the shade, the light to whisper<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Song, the flowers to put not odours only forth, but words<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweeter far than fragrance: here the wandering wreaths twine crisper<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Far, and louder far exults the note of all wild birds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughts that change us, joys that crown and sorrows that enthrone us,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Passions that enrobe us with a clearer air than ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Move and breathe as living things beheld round white Colonus,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Audibler than melodies and visibler than flowers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, in fight unconquered, Love, with spoils of great men laden,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Never sang so sweet from throat of woman or of dove:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, whose bed by night is in the soft cheeks of a maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And his march is over seas, and low roofs lack not Love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor may one of all that live, ephemeral or eternal,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fly nor hide from Love; but whoso clasps him fast goes mad.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span><span class="i0">Never since the first-born year with flowers first-born grew vernal<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such a song made listening hearts of lovers glad or sad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never sounded note so radiant at the rayless portal<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Opening wide on the all-concealing lowland of the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the music mingling, when her doomsday marked her mortal,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From her own and old men's voices round the bride's way shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the grave her bride-house, hewn for endless habitation,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where, shut out from sunshine, with no bridegroom by, she slept;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But beloved of all her dark and fateful generation,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But with all time's tears and praise besprinkled and bewept:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well-beloved of outcast father and self-slaughtered mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Born, yet unpolluted, of their blind incestuous bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Best-beloved of him for whose dead sake she died, her brother,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hallowing by her own life's gift her own born brother's head;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not with wine or oil nor any less libation</span> <span class="linenum">[<i>Ant. 3.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hallowed, nor made sweet with humbler perfume's breath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not with only these redeemed from desecration,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But with blood and spirit of life poured forth to death;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span><span class="i0">Blood unspotted, spirit unsullied, life devoted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sister too supreme to make the bride's hope good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Daughter too divine as woman to be noted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Spouse of only death in mateless maidenhood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, in her was all the prayer fulfilled, the saying<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All accomplished—<i>Would that fate would let me wear</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Hallowed innocence of words and all deeds, weighing</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>Well the laws thereof, begot on holier air,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Far on high sublimely stablished, whereof only</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>Heaven is father; nor did birth of mortal mould</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Bring them forth, nor shall oblivion lull to lonely</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>Slumber. Great in these is God, and grows not old.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore even that inner darkness where she perished<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Surely seems as holy and lovely, seen aright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As desirable and as dearly to be cherished,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As the haunt closed in with laurels from the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep inwound with olive and wild vine inwoven,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where a godhead known and unknown makes men pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the darkness of the twilight noon is cloven<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Still with shrill sweet moan of many a nightingale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closer clustering there they make sweet noise together,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where the fearful gods look gentler than our fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the grove thronged through with birds of holiest feather<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Grows nor pale nor dumb with sense of dark things near.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There her father, called upon with signs of wonder,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Passed with tenderest words away by ways unknown,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span><span class="i0">Not by sea-storm stricken down, nor touched of thunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To the dark benign deep underworld, alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Third of three that ruled in Athens, kings with sceptral song for staff,</span> <span class="linenum">[<i>Ep. 3.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gladdest heart that God gave ever milk and wine of thought to quaff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clearest eye that lightened ever to the broad lip's lordliest laugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praise be thine as theirs whose tragic brows the loftier leaf engirds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the live and lyric lightning of thy honey-hearted words,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft like sunny dewy wings of clouds and bright as crying of birds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full of all sweet rays and notes that make of earth and air and sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One great light and sound of laughter from one great God's heart, to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sign and semblance of the gladness of man's life where men breathe free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With no Loxian sound obscure God uttered once, and all time heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the soul of Athens, all the soul of England, in that word:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rome arose the second child of freedom: northward rose the third.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere her Boreal dawn came kindling seas afoam and fields of snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet again, while Europe groaned and grovelled, shone like suns aglow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doria splendid over Genoa, Venice bright with Dandolo.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span><span class="i0">Dead was Hellas, but Ausonia by the light of dead men's deeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose and walked awhile alive, though mocked as whom the fen-fire leads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the creed-wrought faith of faithless souls that mock their doubts with creeds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dead are these, and man is risen again: and haply now the three<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet coequal and triune may stand in story, marked as free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the token of the washing of the waters of the sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Athens first of all earth's kindred many-tongued and many-kinned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had the sea to friend and comfort, and for kinsman had the wind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She that bare Columbus next: then she that made her spoil of Ind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She that hears not what man's rage but only what the sea-wind saith:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She that turned Spain's ships to cloud-wrack at the blasting of her breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By her strengths of strong-souled children and of strong winds done to death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">North and south the Great King's galleons went in Persian wise: and here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, with Æschylean music on her lips that laughed back fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the face of Time's grey godhead shook the splendour of her spear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair as Athens then with foot upon her foeman's front, and strong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even as Athens for redemption of the world from sovereign wrong,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span><span class="i0">Like as Athens crowned she stood before the sun with crowning song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the world is theirs with whom is freedom: first of all the free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blest are they whom song has crowned and clothed with blessing: these as we,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These alone have part in spirit with the sun that crowns the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>April 1881.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE STATUE OF VICTOR HUGO</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">1<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since in Athens God stood plain for adoration,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Since the sun beheld his likeness reared in stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the bronze or gold of human consecration<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Gave to Greece her guardian's form and feature shown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never hand of sculptor, never heart of nation,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Found so glorious aim in all these ages flown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As is theirs who rear for all time's acclamation<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Here the likeness of our mightiest and their own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">2<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Theirs and ours and all men's living who behold him<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Crowned with garlands multiform and manifold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praise and thanksgiving of all mankind enfold him<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who for all men casts abroad his gifts of gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the gods of song have all men's tongues enrolled him,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With the helpful gods have all men's hearts enrolled:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ours he is who love him, ours whose hearts' hearts hold him<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fast as his the trust that hearts like his may hold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span><span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">3<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He, the heart most high, the spirit on earth most blameless,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Takes in charge all spirits, holds all hearts in trust:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the sea-wind's on the sea his ways are tameless,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As the laws that steer the world his works are just.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All most noble feel him nobler, all most shameless<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Feel his wrath and scorn make pale their pride and lust:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All most poor and lowliest, all whose wrongs were nameless,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Feel his word of comfort raise them from the dust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">4<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pride of place and lust of empire bloody-fruited<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Knew the blasting of his breath on leaf and fruit:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the hand that smote the death-tree now disrooted<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Plants the refuge-tree that has man's hope for root.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, but we by whom his darkness was saluted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How shall now all we that see his day salute?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How should love not seem by love's own speech confuted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Song before the sovereign singer not be mute?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">5<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With what worship, by what blessing, in what measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May we sing of him, salute him, or adore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what hymn for praise, what thanksgiving for pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who had given us more than heaven, and gives us more?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span><span class="i0">Heaven's whole treasury, filled up full with night's whole treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Holds not so divine or deep a starry store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the soul supreme that deals forth worlds at leisure<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Clothed with light and darkness, dense with flower and ore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">6<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Song had touched the bourn: fresh verses overflow it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Loud and radiant, waves on waves on waves that throng;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still the tide grows, and the sea-mark still below it<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sinks and shifts and rises, changed and swept along.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose it like a rock? the waters overthrow it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And another stands beyond them sheer and strong:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Goal by goal pays down its prize, and yields its poet<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tribute claimed of triumph, palm achieved of song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">7<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since his hand that holds the keys of fear and wonder<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Opened on the high priest's dreaming eyes a door<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence the lights of heaven and hell above and under<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shone, and smote the face that men bow down before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrice again one singer's note had cloven in sunder<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Night, who blows again not one blast now but four,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the fourfold heaven is kindled with his thunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the stars about his forehead are fourscore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span><span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">8<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the deep soul's depths where alway love abounded<br /></span> +<span class="i1">First had risen a song with healing on its wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence the dews of mercy raining balms unbounded<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shed their last compassion even on sceptred things.<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even on heads that like a curse the crown surrounded<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fell his crowning pity, soft as cleansing springs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sweet last note his wrath relenting sounded<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bade men's hearts be melted not for slaves but kings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">9<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Next, that faith might strengthen fear and love embolden,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On the creeds of priests a scourge of sunbeams fell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its flash made bare the deeps of heaven, beholden<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not of men that cry, Lord, Lord, from church or cell.<a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope as young as dawn from night obscure and olden<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rose again, such power abides in truth's one spell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night, if dawn it be that touches her, grows golden;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tears, if such as angels weep, extinguish hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">10<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through the blind loud mills of barren blear-eyed learning<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where in dust and darkness children's foreheads bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While men's labour, vain as wind or water turning<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wheels and sails of dreams, makes life a leafless bough,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span><span class="i0">Fell the light of scorn and pity touched with yearning,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Next, from words that shone as heaven's own kindling brow.<a name="FNanchor_3" id="FNanchor_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stars were these as watch-fires on the world's waste burning,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Stars that fade not in the fourfold sunrise now.<a name="FNanchor_4" id="FNanchor_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">11<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the voice that faints not till all wrongs be wroken<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sounds as might the sun's song from the morning's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the seals of silence sealed of night are broken,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the winds that bear the fourfold word are blest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the keen fierce east flames forth one fiery token;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the north is loud with life that knows not rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the south with song as though the stars had spoken;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the judgment-fire of sunset scathes the west.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">12<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sound of pæan, roll of chanted panegyric,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though by Pindar's mouth song's trumpet spake forth praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">March of warrior songs in Pythian mood or Pyrrhic,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though the blast were blown by lips of ancient days,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span><span class="i0">Ring not clearer than the clarion of satiric<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Song whose breath sweeps bare the plague-infected ways<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the world be pure as heaven is for the lyric<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sun to rise up clothed with radiant sounds as rays.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">13<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Clear across the cloud-rack fluctuant and erratic<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As the strong star smiles that lets no mourner mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hymned alike from lips of Lesbian choirs or Attic<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Once at evensong and morning newly born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clear and sure above the changes of dramatic<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tide and current, soft with love and keen with scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles the strong sweet soul of maidenhood, ecstatic<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And inviolate as the red glad mouth of morn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">14<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pure and passionate as dawn, whose apparition<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thrills with fire from heaven the wheels of hours that whirl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose and passed her radiance in serene transition<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From his eyes who sought a grain and found a pearl.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the food by cunning hope for vain fruition<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lightly stolen away from keeping of a churl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left the bitterness of death and hope's perdition<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On the lip that scorn was wont for shame to curl.<a name="FNanchor_5" id="FNanchor_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span><span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">15<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Over waves that darken round the wave-worn rover<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rang his clarion higher than winds cried round the ship,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose a pageant of set suns and storms blown over,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hands that held life's guerdons fast or let them slip.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no tongue may tell, no thanksgiving discover,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Half the heaven of blessing, soft with clouds that drip,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keen with beams that kindle, dear as love to lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Opening by the spell's strength on his lyric lip.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">16<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By that spell the soul transfigured and dilated<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Puts forth wings that widen, breathes a brightening air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feeds on light and drinks of music, whence elated<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All her sense grows godlike, seeing all depths made bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the mists wherein before she sat belated<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shrink, till now the sunlight knows not if they were;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All this earth transformed is Eden recreated,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With the breath of heaven remurmuring in her hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">17<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweeter far than aught of sweet that April nurses<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Deep in dew-dropt woodland folded fast and furled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathes the fragrant song whose burning dawn disperses<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Darkness, like the surge of armies backward hurled,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span><span class="i0">Even as though the touch of spring's own hand, that pierces<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Earth with life's delight, had hidden in the impearled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Golden bells and buds and petals of his verses<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the breath of all the flowers in all the world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">18<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the soul therein, the light that our souls follow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fires and fills the song with more of prophet's pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More of life than all the gulfs of death may swallow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">More of flame than all the might of night may hide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the whole dark age were loud and void and hollow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Strength of trust were here, and help for all souls tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a token from the flight of that strange swallow<a name="FNanchor_6" id="FNanchor_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose migration still is toward the wintry side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">19<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never came such token for divine solution<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From the oraculous live darkness whence of yore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ancient faith sought word of help and retribution,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Truth to lighten doubt, a sign to go before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never so baptismal waters of ablution<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bathed the brows of exile on so stern a shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the lightnings of the sea of revolution<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Flashed across them ere its thunders yet might roar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span><span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">20<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By the lightning's light of present revelation<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shown, with epic thunder as from skies that frown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clothed in darkness as of darkling expiation,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rose a vision of dead, stars and suns gone down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence of old fierce fire devoured the star-struck nation,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till its wrath and woe lit red the raging town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now made glorious with his statue's crowning station,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where may never gleam again a viler crown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">21<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">King, with time for throne and all the years for pages,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He shall reign though all thrones else be overhurled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Served of souls that have his living words for wages,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Crowned of heaven each dawn that leaves his brows impearled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Girt about with robes unrent of storm that rages,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Robes not wrought with hands, from no loom's weft unfurled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the praise of all earth's tongues in all earth's ages,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the love of all men's hearts in all the world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">22<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet what hand shall carve the soul or cast the spirit,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Mould the face of fame, bid glory's feature glow?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who bequeath for eyes of ages hence to inherit<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Him, the Master, whom love knows not if it know?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarcely perfect praise of men man's work might merit,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Scarcely bid such aim to perfect stature grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were his hand the hand of Phidias who shall rear it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And his soul the very soul of Angelo.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span><span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">23<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Michael, awful angel of the world's last session,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Once on earth, like him, with fire of suffering tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine it were, if man's it were, without transgression,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thine alone, to take this toil upon thy pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine, whose heart was great against the world's oppression,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Even as his whose word is lamp and staff and guide:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Advocate for man, untired of intercession,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pleads his voice for slaves whose lords his voice defied.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">24<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earth, with all the kings and thralls on earth, below it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heaven alone, with all the worlds in heaven, above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let his likeness rise for suns and stars to know it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">High for men to worship, plain for men to love:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brow that braved the tides which fain would overflow it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lip that gave the challenge, hand that flung the glove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comforter and prophet, Paraclete and poet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Soul whose emblems are an eagle and a dove.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8" style="margin-top: 2em;">25<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sun, that hast not seen a loftier head wax hoary,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Earth, which hast not shown the sun a nobler birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time, that hast not on thy scroll defiled and gory<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One man's name writ brighter in its whole wide girth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witness, till the final years fulfil their story,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till the stars break off the music of their mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What among the sons of men was this man's glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What the vesture of his soul revealed on earth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnotehead">FOOTNOTES:</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>La Pitié Suprême.</i> 1879.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> <i>Religions et Religion.</i> 1880.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <i>L'Ane.</i> 1880.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4" id="Footnote_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> <i>Les Quatre Vents de l'Esprit.</i> I. <i>Le Livre satirique.</i> +II. <i>Le Livre dramatique.</i> III. <i>Le Livre lyrique.</i> IV. <i>Le Livre +épique.</i> 1881.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5" id="Footnote_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> <i>Les Deux Trouvailles de Gallus.</i> I. <i>Margarita, comédie.</i> +II. <i>Esca, drame.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6" id="Footnote_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> +</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Je suis une hirondelle étrange, car j'émigre<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Du côté de l'hiver.<br /></span> +<span class="i11"><i>Le Livre Lyrique</i>, liii.<br /></span> +</div></div></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> +<h2>EUTHANATOS</h2> + +<h4><span class="smcap">In memory of Mrs. Thellusson</span></h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Forth of our ways and woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Forth of the winds and snows,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A white soul soaring goes,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Winged like a dove:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">So sweet, so pure, so clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">So heavenly tempered here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love need not hope or fear her changed above:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Ere dawned her day to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">So heavenly, that on high<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Change could not glorify<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Nor death refine her:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Pure gold of perfect love,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On earth like heaven's own dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She cannot wear, above, a smile diviner.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Her voice in heaven's own quire<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Can sound no heavenlier lyre<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Than here: no purer fire<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Her soul can soar:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No sweeter stars her eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In unimagined skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond our sight can rise than here before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span><span class="i4">Hardly long years had shed<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Their shadows on her head:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hardly we think her dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Who hardly thought her<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Old: hardly can believe<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The grief our hearts receive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wonder while they grieve, as wrong were wrought her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">But though strong grief be strong<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No word or thought of wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i4">May stain the trembling song,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Wring the bruised heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That sounds or sighs its faint<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Low note of love, nor taint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grief for so sweet a saint, when such depart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">A saint whose perfect soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With perfect love for goal,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Faith hardly might control,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Creeds might not harden:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A flower more splendid far<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Than the most radiant star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seen here of all that are in God's own garden.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Surely the stars we see<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Rise and relapse as we,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And change and set, may be<br /></span> +<span class="i5">But shadows too:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But spirits that man's lot<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Could neither mar nor spot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like these false lights are not, being heavenly true.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span><span class="i4">Not like these dying lights<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of worlds whose glory smites<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The passage of the nights<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Through heaven's blind prison:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Not like their souls who see,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If thought fly far and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No heavenlier heaven to be for souls rerisen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">A soul wherein love shone<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Even like the sun, alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With fervour of its own<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And splendour fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Made by no creeds less kind<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Toward souls by none confined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could Death's self quench or blind, Love's self were dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>February 4, 1881.</i><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>FIRST AND LAST</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon the borderlands of being,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where life draws hardly breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the lights and shadows fleeing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fast as a word one saith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two flowers rejoice our eyesight, seeing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The dawns of birth and death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behind the babe his dawn is lying<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Half risen with notes of mirth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all the winds about it flying<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through new-born heaven and earth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before bright age his day for dying<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dawns equal-eyed with birth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Equal the dews of even and dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Equal the sun's eye seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hand's breadth risen and half withdrawn:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But no bright hour between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brings aught so bright by stream or lawn<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To noonday growths of green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Which flower of life may smell the sweeter<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To love's insensual sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which fragrance move with offering meeter<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His soothed omnipotence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Being chosen as fairer or as fleeter,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Borne hither or borne hence,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span><span class="i0">Love's foiled omniscience knows not: this<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Were more than all he knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all his lore of bale and bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The choice of rose and rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One red as lips that touch with his,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One white as moonlit snows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No hope is half so sweet and good,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No dream of saint or sage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fair as these are: no dark mood<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But these might best assuage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet red rose of babyhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The white sweet rose of age.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> +<h2>LINES ON THE DEATH OF EDWARD JOHN TRELAWNY</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Last high star of the years whose thunder<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Still men's listening remembrance hears,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Last light left of our fathers' years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watched with honour and hailed with wonder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee too then have the years borne under,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou too then hast regained thy peers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wings that warred with the winds of morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Storm-winds rocking the red great dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Close at last, and a film is drawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the eyes of the storm-bird, scorning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now no longer the loud wind's warning,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Waves that threaten or waves that fawn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Peers were none of thee left us living,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Peers of theirs we shall see no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Eight years over the full fourscore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knew thee: now shalt thou sleep, forgiving<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All griefs past of the wild world's giving,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Moored at last on the stormless shore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Worldwide liberty's lifelong lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lover no less of the strength of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sea-king, swordsman, hater of wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over thy dust that the dust shall cover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes my song as a bird to hover,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Borne of its will as of wings along.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span><span class="i0">Cherished of thee were this brief song's brothers<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Now that follows them, cherishing thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Over the tides and the tideless sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft as a smile of the earth our mother's<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flies it faster than all those others,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">First of the troop at thy tomb to be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Memories of Greece and the mountain's hollow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Guarded alone of thy loyal sword<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hold thy name for our hearts in ward:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet more fain are our hearts to follow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One way now with the southward swallow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Back to the grave of the man their lord.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heart of hearts, art thou moved not, hearing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Surely, if hearts of the dead may hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose true heart it is now draws near?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surely the sense of it thrills thee, cheering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darkness and death with the news now nearing—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shelley, Trelawny rejoins thee here.<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>ADIEUX À MARIE STUART</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7" style="margin-top: 2em;">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Queen, for whose house my fathers fought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With hopes that rose and fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red star of boyhood's fiery thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Farewell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They gave their lives, and I, my queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have given you of my life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing your brave star burn high between<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Men's strife.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The strife that lightened round their spears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long since fell still: so long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hardly may hope to last in years<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But still through strife of time and thought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your light on me too fell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Queen, in whose name we sang or fought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Farewell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7" style="margin-top: 2em;">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There beats no heart on either border<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherethrough the north blasts blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But keeps your memory as a warder<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His beacon-fire aglow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span><span class="i0">Long since it fired with love and wonder<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mine, for whose April age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blithe midsummer made banquet under<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shade of Hermitage.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soft sang the burn's blithe notes, that gather<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strength to ring true:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And air and trees and sun and heather<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Remembered you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Old border ghosts of fight or fairy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or love or teen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These they forgot, remembering Mary<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Queen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7" style="margin-top: 2em;">III<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Queen once of Scots and ever of ours<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose sires brought forth for you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their lives to strew your way like flowers.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adieu.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dead is full many a dead man's name<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who died for you this long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time past: shall this too fare the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My song?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But surely, though it die or live,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your face was worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that a man may think to give<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No darkness cast of years between<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can darken you:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man's love will never bid my queen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adieu.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span><span class="i7" style="margin-top: 2em;">IV<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love hangs like light about your name<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As music round the shell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No heart can take of you a tame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Farewell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, when your very face was seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ill gifts were yours for giving:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love gat strange guerdons of my queen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When living.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O diamond heart unflawed and clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The whole world's crowning jewel!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was ever heart so deadly dear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So cruel?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet none for you of all that bled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grudged once one drop that fell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not one to life reluctant said<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Farewell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7" style="margin-top: 2em;">V<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strange love they have given you, love disloyal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who mock with praise your name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To leave a head so rare and royal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too low for praise or blame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You could not love nor hate, they tell us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You had nor sense nor sting:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In God's name, then, what plague befell us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To fight for such a thing?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span><span class="i0">"Some faults the gods will give," to fetter<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Man's highest intent:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But surely you were something better<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than innocent!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No maid that strays with steps unwary<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through snares unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But one to live and die for; Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Queen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7" style="margin-top: 2em;">VI<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forgive them all their praise, who blot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your fame with praise of you:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then love may say, and falter not,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adieu.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet some you hardly would forgive<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who did you much less wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once: but resentment should not live<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too long.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They never saw your lip's bright bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your swordbright eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bluest of heavenly things below<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The skies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Clear eyes that love's self finds most like<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A swordblade's blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A swordblade's ever keen to strike,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adieu.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span><span class="i7" style="margin-top: 2em;">VII<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though all things breathe or sound of fight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That yet make up your spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bid you were to bid the light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Farewell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell the song says only, being<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A star whose race is run:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell the soul says never, seeing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, wellnigh as with flash of tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The song must say but so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That took your praise up twenty years<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ago.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">More bright than stars or moons that vary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sun kindling heaven and hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, after all these years, Queen Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Farewell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> +<h2>HERSE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When grace is given us ever to behold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A child some sweet months old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, laying across our lips his finger, saith,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smiling, with bated breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hush! for the holiest thing that lives is here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And heaven's own heart how near!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How dare we, that may gaze not on the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gaze on this verier one?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heart, hold thy peace; eyes, be cast down for shame;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lips, breathe not yet its name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In heaven they know what name to call it; we,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How should we know? For, see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The adorable sweet living marvellous<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strange light that lightens us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who gaze, desertless of such glorious grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full in a babe's warm face!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All roses that the morning rears are nought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All stars not worth a thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set this one star against them, or suppose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As rival this one rose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What price could pay with earth's whole weight of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One least flushed roseleaf's fold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all this dimpling store of smiles that shine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From each warm curve and line,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span><span class="i0">Each charm of flower-sweet flesh, to reillume<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dappled rose-red bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all its dainty body, honey-sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clenched hands and curled-up feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That on the roses of the dawn have trod<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As they came down from God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And keep the flush and colour that the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Takes when the sun comes nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And keep the likeness of the smile their grace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Evoked on God's own face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, seeing this work of his most heavenly mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He saw that it was good?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all its warm sweet body seems one smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mere men's love too vile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet it, or with eyes that worship dims<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Read o'er the little limbs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Read all the book of all their beauties o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rejoice, revere, adore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bow down and worship each delight in turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Laugh, wonder, yield, and yearn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when our trembling kisses dare, yet dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even to draw nigh its head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And touch, and scarce with touch or breath surprise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its mild miraculous eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of their viewless vision—O, what then,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What may be said of men?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What speech may name a new-born child? what word<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Earth ever spake or heard?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The best men's tongue that ever glory knew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Called that a drop of dew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which from the breathing creature's kindly womb<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came forth in blameless bloom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have no word, as had those men most high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To call a baby by.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span><span class="i0">Rose, ruby, lily, pearl of stormless seas—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A better word than these,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A better sign it was than flower or gem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That love revealed to them:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They knew that whence comes light or quickening flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thence only this thing came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And only might be likened of our love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To somewhat born above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not even to sweetest things dropped else on earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Only to dew's own birth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor doubt we but their sense was heavenly true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Babe, when we gaze on you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dew-drop out of heaven whose colours are<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More bright than sun or star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As now, ere watching love dare fear or hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lips, hands, and eyelids ope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all your life is mixed with earthly leaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O child, what news from heaven?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> +<h2>TWINS</h2> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Affectionately inscribed to W. M. R. and L. R.</span></h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">April, on whose wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ride all gracious things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the star that brings<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All things good to man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere his light, that yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes the month shine, set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fair May forget<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whence her birth began,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brings, as heart would choose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sound of golden news,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright as kindling dews<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When the dawn begins;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tidings clear as mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet as air and earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now that hail the birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Twice thus blest, of twins.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the lovely land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where with hand in hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovers wedded stand<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Other joys before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made your mixed life sweet:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, as Time sees meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three glad blossoms greet<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Two glad blossoms more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span><span class="i0">Fed with sun and dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While your joys were new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First arose and grew<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One bright olive-shoot:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then a fair and fine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slip of warm-haired pine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Felt the sweet sun shine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On its leaf and fruit.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And it wore for mark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Graven on the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty of its bark<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That the noblest name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worn in song of old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the king whose bold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hand had fast in hold<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the flower of fame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, with southern skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flattered in her eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, in lovelier wise<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet, reflect their blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brightened more, being bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here with life's delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with love's live light<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Glorified anew,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Came, as fair as came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One who bore her name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(She that broke as flame<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From the swan-shell white),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crowned with tender hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only, but more fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all queens that were<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Themes of oldworld fight,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span><span class="i0">Of your flowers the third<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bud, or new-fledged bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In your hearts' nest heard<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Murmuring like a dove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright as those that drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over waves where blew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No loud wind the blue<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heaven-hued car of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not the glorious grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even of that one face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Potent to displace<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All the towers of Troy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surely shone more clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once with childlike cheer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than this child's face here<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Now with living joy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">After these again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here in April's train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breaks the bloom of twain<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Blossoms in one birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a crown of May<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the front of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he takes his way<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Over heaven and earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Half a heavenly thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Given from heaven to Spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the sun her king,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Half a tender toy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems a child of curl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet too soft to twirl;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems the flower-sweet girl<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By the flower-bright boy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span><span class="i0">All the kind gods' grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All their love, embrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever either face,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ever brood above them:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All soft wings of hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Screen them as with flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all beams and showers:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All life's seasons love them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the dews of sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falling lightliest keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eyes too close to peep<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Forth and laugh off rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy from face to feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill them, as is meet:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life to them be sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As their mother's breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When those dews are dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in day's bright eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looking full they lie<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bright as rose and pearl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All returns of joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure of time's alloy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless the rose-red boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Guard the rose-white girl.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Postscript</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Friends, if I could take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half a note from Blake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or but one verse make<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of the Conqueror's mine,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span><span class="i0">Better than my best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Song above your nest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would sing: the quest<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Now seems too divine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>April 28, 1881.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE SALT OF THE EARTH</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If childhood were not in the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But only men and women grown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No baby-locks in tendrils curled,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No baby-blossoms blown;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though men were stronger, women fairer,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And nearer all delights in reach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And verse and music uttered rarer<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tones of more godlike speech;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though the utmost life of life's best hours<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Found, as it cannot now find, words;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though desert sands were sweet as flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And flowers could sing like birds,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But children never heard them, never<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They felt a child's foot leap and run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This were a drearier star than ever<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet looked upon the sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> +<h2>SEVEN YEARS OLD</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seven white roses on one tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seven white loaves of blameless leaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seven white sails on one soft sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seven white swans on one lake's lee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seven white flowerlike stars in heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All are types unmeet to be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For a birthday's crown of seven.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not the radiance of the roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not the blessing of the bread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the breeze that ere day grows is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh for sails and swans, and closes<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wings above the sun's grave spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the starshine on the snows is<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sweet as sleep on sorrow shed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">III<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nothing sweetest, nothing best,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Holds so good and sweet a treasure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the love wherewith once blest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy grows holy, grief takes rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Life, half tired with hours to measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fills his eyes and lips and breast<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With most light and breath of pleasure;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span><span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">IV<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As the rapture unpolluted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As the passion undefiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By whose force all pains heart-rooted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are transfigured and transmuted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Recompensed and reconciled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the imperial, undisputed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Present godhead of a child.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">V<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brown bright eyes and fair bright head,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Worth a worthier crown than this is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worth a worthier song instead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet grave wise round mouth, full fed<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With the joy of love, whose bliss is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than mortal wine and bread,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lips whose words are sweet as kisses,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">VI<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Little hands so glad of giving,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Little heart so glad of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little soul so glad of living,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the strong swift hours are weaving<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Light with darkness woven above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time for mirth and time for grieving,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Plume of raven and plume of dove,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">VII<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I can give you but a word<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Warm with love therein for leaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a song that falls unheard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet on ears of sense unstirred<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet by song so far from heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence you came the brightest bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seven years since, of seven times seven.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> +<h2>EIGHT YEARS OLD</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">I<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sun, whom the faltering snow-cloud fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rise, let the time of year be May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak now the word that April hears,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Let March have all his royal way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bid all spring raise in winter's ears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All tunes her children hear or play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because the crown of eight glad years<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On one bright head is set to-day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">II<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What matters cloud or sun to-day<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To him who wears the wreath of years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So many, and all like flowers at play<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With wind and sunshine, while his ears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear only song on every way?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">More sweet than spring triumphant hears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ring through the revel-rout of May<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are these, the notes that winter fears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">III<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strong-hearted winter knows and fears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The music made of love at play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or haply loves the tune he hears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From hearts fulfilled with flowering May,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span><span class="i0">Whose molten music thaws his ears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Late frozen, deaf but yesterday<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sounds of dying and dawning years,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Now quickened on his deathward way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">IV<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For deathward now lies winter's way<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Down the green vestibule of years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That each year brightens day by day<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With flower and shower till hope scarce fears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fear grows wholly hope of May.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But we—the music in our ears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made of love's pulses as they play<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The heart alone that makes it hears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">V<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The heart it is that plays and hears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">High salutation of to-day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tongue falters, hand shrinks back, song fears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Its own unworthiness to play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fit music for those eight sweet years,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or sing their blithe accomplished way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No song quite worth a young child's ears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Broke ever even from birds in May.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">VI<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There beats not in the heart of May,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When summer hopes and springtide fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There falls not from the height of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When sunlight speaks and silence hears,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span><span class="i0">So sweet a psalm as children play<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sing, each hour of all their years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each moment of their lovely way,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And know not how it thrills our ears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">VII<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah child, what are we, that our ears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Should hear you singing on your way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should have this happiness? The years<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose hurrying wings about us play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are not like yours, whose flower-time fears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nought worse than sunlit showers in May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Being sinless as the spring, that hears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her own heart praise her every day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i6" style="margin-top: 2em;">VIII<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet we too triumph in the day<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That bare, to entrance our eyes and ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lighten daylight, and to play<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such notes as darkness knows and fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The child whose face illumes our way,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose voice lifts up the heart that hears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose hand is as the hand of May<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To bring us flowers from eight full years.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>February 4, 1882.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> +<h2>COMPARISONS</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Child, when they say that others<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Have been or are like you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Babes fit to be your brothers,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sweet human drops of dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright fruit of mortal mothers,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What should one say or do?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We know the thought is treason,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We feel the dream absurd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A claim rebuked of reason,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That withers at a word:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For never shone the season<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That bore so blithe a bird.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some smiles may seem as merry,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Some glances gleam as wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From lips as like a cherry<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And scarce less gracious eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eyes browner than a berry,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lips red as morning's rise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But never yet rang laughter<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So sweet in gladdened ears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through wall and floor and rafter<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As all this household hears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rings response thereafter<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till cloudiest weather clears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span><span class="i0">When those your chosen of all men,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose honey never cloys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two lights whose smiles enthrall men,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Were called at your age boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those mighty men, while small men,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Could make no merrier noise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our Shakespeare, surely, daffed not<br /></span> +<span class="i1">More lightly pain aside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From radiant lips that quaffed not<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of forethought's tragic tide:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Dickens, doubtless, laughed not<br /></span> +<span class="i1">More loud with life's first pride.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dawn were not more cheerless<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With neither light nor dew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than we without the fearless<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Clear laugh that thrills us through:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ever child stood peerless,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Love knows that child is you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> +<h2>WHAT IS DEATH?</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Looking on a page where stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Graven of old on old-world wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death, and by the grave's edge grim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale, the young man facing him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Asked my well-beloved of me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once what strange thing; this might be,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Gaunt and great of limb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Death, I told him: and, surprise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deepening more his wildwood eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Like some sweet fleet thing's whose breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speaks all spring though nought it saith),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up he turned his rosebright face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glorious with its seven years' grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Asking—What is death?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> +<h2>A CHILD'S PITY</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No sweeter thing than children's ways and wiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Surely, we say, can gladden eyes and ears:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet sometime sweeter than their words or smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are even their tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To one for once a piteous tale was read,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How, when the murderous mother crocodile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was slain, her fierce brood famished, and lay dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Starved, by the Nile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In vast green reed-beds on the vast grey slime<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Those monsters motherless and helpless lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perishing only for the parent's crime<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose seed were they.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hours after, toward the dusk, our blithe small bird<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of Paradise, who has our hearts in keeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was heard or seen, but hardly seen or heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For pity weeping.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He was so sorry, sitting still apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For the poor little crocodiles, he said.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Six years had given him, for an angel's heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A child's instead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span><span class="i0">Feigned tears the false beasts shed for murderous ends,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We know from travellers' tales of crocodiles:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But these tears wept upon them of my friend's<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Outshine his smiles.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What heavenliest angels of what heavenly city<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Could match the heavenly heart in children here?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart that hallowing all things with its pity<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Casts out all fear?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So lovely, so divine, so dear their laughter<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seems to us, we know not what could be more dear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lovelier yet we see the sign thereafter<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of such a tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With sense of love half laughing and half weeping<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We met your tears, our small sweet-spirited friend:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let your love have us in its heavenly keeping<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To life's last end.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> +<h2>A CHILD'S LAUGHTER</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All the bells of heaven may ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the birds of heaven may sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the wells on earth may spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the winds on earth may bring<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All sweet sounds together;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweeter far than all things heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hand of harper, tone of bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sound of woods at sundawn stirred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Welling water's winsome word,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wind in warm wan weather,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One thing yet there is, that none<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearing ere its chime be done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knows not well the sweetest one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard of man beneath the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hoped in heaven hereafter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft and strong and loud and light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Very sound of very light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard from morning's rosiest height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the soul of all delight<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fills a child's clear laughter.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span><span class="i0">Golden bells of welcome rolled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never forth such notes, nor told<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hours so blithe in tones so bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the radiant mouth of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Here that rings forth heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the golden-crested wren<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were a nightingale—why, then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something seen and heard of men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might be half as sweet as when<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Laughs a child of seven.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> +<h2>A CHILD'S THANKS</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How low soe'er men rank us,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How high soe'er we win,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The children far above us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwell, and they deign to love us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lovelier love than ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smiles more sweet than flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though the sun should thank us<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For letting light come in.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With too divine complaisance,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose grace misleads them thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Being gods, in heavenly blindness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They call our worship kindness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our pebble-gift a gem:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They think us good to them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose glance, whose breath, whose presence,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are gifts too good for us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The poet high and hoary<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of meres that mountains bind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Felt his great heart more often<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yearn, and its proud strength soften<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From stern to tenderer mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At thought of gratitude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shown than of song or story<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He heard of hearts unkind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span><span class="i0">But with what words for token<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And what adoring tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of reverence risen to passion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In what glad prostrate fashion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of spirit and soul subdued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May man show gratitude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thanks of children spoken<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That hover in his ears?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The angels laugh, your brothers,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Child, hearing you thank me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eyes whence night grows sunny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And touch of lips like honey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And words like honey-dew:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But how shall I thank you?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For gifts above all others<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What guerdon-gift may be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What wealth of words caressing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What choice of songs found best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would seem not as derision,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found vain beside the vision<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glory from above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shown in a child's heart's love?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His part in life is blessing;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ours, only to be blest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> +<h2>A CHILD'S BATTLES</h2> + +<h3><ins class="greekcorr" title="pyx aretan heurôn">πὺξ ἀρετὰν εὑρών</ins>.—<span class="smcap">Pindar.</span></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Praise of the knights of old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May sleep: their tale is told,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And no man cares:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The praise which fires our lips is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A knight's whose fame eclipses<br /></span> +<span class="i3">All of theirs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The ruddiest light in heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blazed as his birth-star seven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long years ago:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All glory crown that old year<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which brought our stout small soldier<br /></span> +<span class="i3">With the snow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Each baby born has one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Star, for his friends a sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The first of stars:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we, the more we scan it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The more grow sure your planet,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Child, was Mars.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For each one flower, perchance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blooms as his cognizance:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The snowdrop chill,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span><span class="i0">The violet unbeholden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For some: for you the golden<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Daffodil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Erect, a fighting flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It breasts the breeziest hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ever blew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bent or broke things brittle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or frail, unlike a little<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Knight like you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Its flower is firm and fresh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stout like sturdiest flesh<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of children: all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strenuous blast that parches<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spring hurts it not till March is<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Near his fall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If winds that prate and fret<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remark, rebuke, regret,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lament, or blame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brave plant's martial passion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It keeps its own free fashion<br /></span> +<span class="i3">All the same.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We that would fain seem wise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Assume grave mouths and eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose looks reprove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too much delight in battle:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But your great heart our prattle<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Cannot move.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We say, small children should<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be placid, mildly good<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blandly meek:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span><span class="i0">Whereat the broad smile rushes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full on your lips, and flushes<br /></span> +<span class="i3">All your cheek.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If all the stars that are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laughed out, and every star<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could here be heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such peals of golden laughter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We should not hear, as after<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Such a word.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For all the storm saith, still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stout stands the daffodil:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For all we say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Howe'er he look demurely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our martialist will surely<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Have his way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We may not bind with bands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those large and liberal hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor stay from fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hold them back from giving:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No lean mean laws of living<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Bind a knight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And always here of old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such gentle hearts and bold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our land has bred:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How durst her eye rest else on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glory shed from Nelson<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Quick and dead?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shame were it, if but one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such once were born her son,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That one to have borne,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span><span class="i0">And brought him ne'er a brother:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His praise should bring his mother<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Shame and scorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A child high-souled as he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose manhood shook the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smiles haply here:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His face, where love lies basking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bright shut mouth seems asking,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">What is fear?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sunshine-coloured fists<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond his dimpling wrists<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were never closed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For saving or for sparing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For only deeds of daring<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Predisposed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unclenched, the gracious hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let slip their gifts like sands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Made rich with ore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tongues of beggars ravish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From small stout hands so lavish<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of their store.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet hardy kindly hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like these were his that stands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With heel on gorge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seen trampling down the dragon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On sign or flask or flagon,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Sweet Saint George.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some tournament, perchance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hands that couch no lance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might mark this spot<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span><span class="i0">Your lists, if here some pleasant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Small Guenevere were present,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Launcelot.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My brave bright flower, you need<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No foolish song, nor heed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It more than spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sighs of winter stricken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dead when your haunts requicken<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Here, my king.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet O, how hardly may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wheels of singing stay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That whirl along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright paths whence echo raises<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The phantom of your praises,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Child, my song!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beyond all other things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That give my words fleet wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fleet wings and strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You set their jesses ringing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till hardly can I, singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Stint my song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But all things better, friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And worse must find an end:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, right or wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis time, lest rhyme should baffle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I doubt, to put a snaffle<br /></span> +<span class="i3">On my song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And never may your ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aught harsher hear or fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor wolfish night<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span><span class="i0">Nor dog-toothed winter snarling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind your steps, my darling<br /></span> +<span class="i3">My delight!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For all the gifts you give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me, dear, each day you live,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of thanks above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All thanks that could be spoken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take not my song in token,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Take my love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> +<h2>A CHILD'S FUTURE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What will it please you, my darling, hereafter to be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fame upon land will you look for, or glory by sea?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gallant your life will be always, and all of it free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Free as the wind when the heart of the twilight is stirred<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eastward, and sounds from the springs of the sunrise are heard:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free—and we know not another as infinite word.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Darkness or twilight or sunlight may compass us round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hate may arise up against us, or hope may confound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love may forsake us; yet may not the spirit be bound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Free in oppression of grief as in ardour of joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still may the soul be, and each to her strength as a toy:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free in the glance of the man as the smile of the boy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Freedom alone is the salt and the spirit that gives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life, and without her is nothing that verily lives:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death cannot slay her: she laughs upon death and forgives.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span><span class="i0">Brightest and hardiest of roses anear and afar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glitters the blithe little face of you, round as a star:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Liberty bless you and keep you to be as you are.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">England and liberty bless you and keep you to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worthy the name of their child and the sight of their sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fear not at all; for a slave, if he fears not, is free.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p> +<h2>SUNRISE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If the wind and the sunlight of April and August had mingled the past and hereafter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a single adorable season whose life were a rapture of love and of laughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the blithest of singers were back with a song; if again from his tomb as from prison,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If again from the night or the twilight of ages Aristophanes had arisen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the gold-feathered wings of a bird that were also a god upon earth at his shoulders,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the gold-flowing laugh of the manhood of old at his lips, for a joy to beholders,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He alone unrebuked of presumption were able to set to some adequate measure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The delight of our eyes in the dawn that restores them the sun of their sense and the pleasure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the days of the darkness of spirit are over for all of us here, and the season<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When desire was a longing, and absence a thorn, and rejoicing a word without reason.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the roof overhead of the pines is astir with delight as of jubilant voices,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the floor underfoot of the bracken and heather alive as a heart that rejoices.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span><span class="i0">For the house that was childless awhile, and the light of it darkened, the pulse of it dwindled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rings radiant again with a child's bright feet, with the light of his face is rekindled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the ways of the meadows that knew him, the sweep of the down that the sky's belt closes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grow gladder at heart than the soft wind made them whose feet were but fragrant with roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the fall of the year be upon us, who trusted in June and by June were defrauded,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the summer that brought us not back the desire of our eyes be gone hence unapplauded.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For July came joyless among us, and August went out from us arid and sterile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hope of our hearts, as it seemed, was no more than a flower that the seasons imperil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the joy of our hearts, as it seemed, than a thought which regret had not heart to remember,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till four dark months overpast were atoned for, and summer began in September.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark, April again as a bird in the house with a child's voice hither and thither:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See, May in the garden again with a child's face cheering the woods ere they wither.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">June laughs in the light of his eyes, and July on the sunbright cheeks of him slumbers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And August glows in a smile more sweet than the cadence of gold-mouthed numbers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the morning the sight of him brightens the sun, and the noon with delight in him flushes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the silence of nightfall is music about him as soft as the sleep that it hushes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We awake with a sense of a sunrise that is not a gift of the sundawn's giving,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span><span class="i0">And a voice that salutes us is sweeter than all sounds else in the world of the living,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a presence that warms us is brighter than all in the world of our visions beholden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the dreams of our sleep were as those that the light of a world without grief makes golden.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the best that the best of us ever devised as a likeness of heaven and its glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What was it of old, or what is it and will be for ever, in song or in story,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in shape or in colour of carven or painted resemblance, adored of all ages,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a vision recorded of children alive in the pictures of old or the pages?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where children are not, heaven is not, and heaven if they come not again shall be never:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the face and the voice of a child are assurance of heaven and its promise for ever.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Studies in Song, A Century of +Roundels, Sonnets on English Dramatic Poets, The Heptalogia, Etc, by Algernon Charles Swinburne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STUDIES IN SONG *** + +***** This file should be named 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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: Studies in Song, A Century of Roundels, Sonnets on English Dramatic Poets, The Heptalogia, Etc + From Swinburne's Poems Volume V. + +Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne + +Release Date: July 8, 2006 [EBook #18782] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STUDIES IN SONG *** + + + + +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+. The word "Phoebus" was rendered with an oe +ligature in the original.] + + + + +Various Poems: + +Athens: An Ode +The Statue of Victor Hugo +Euthanatos +First and Last +Lines on the Death of Edward John Trelawny +Adieux a Marie Stuart +Herse +Twins +The Salt of the Earth +Seven Years Old +Eight Years Old +Comparisons +What is Death? +A Child's Pity +A Child's Laughter +A Child's Thanks +A Child's Battles +A Child's Future +Sunrise + + +By + +Algernon Charles Swinburne + +Taken from The Collected Poetical Works of Algernon Charles +Swinburne--Vol V + + + + +THE COLLECTED POETICAL WORKS OF ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE + +VOL. V + +STUDIES IN SONG: A CENTURY OF ROUNDELS: SONNETS ON ENGLISH DRAMATIC +POETS: THE HEPTALOGIA: ETC. + + + + +SWINBURNE'S POETICAL WORKS + + +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 + + + + +STUDIES IN SONG: A CENTURY OF ROUNDELS: SONNETS ON ENGLISH DRAMATIC +POETS: THE HEPTALOGIA: ETC. + +By + +Algernon Charles Swinburne + + +1917 + +LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN + + +_First printed_ (_Chatto_), 1904 + +_Reprinted_ 1904, '09, '10, '12 + +(_Heinemann_), 1917 + + +_London: William Heinemann_, 1917 + + + + + PAGE +ATHENS: AN ODE 194 + +THE STATUE OF VICTOR HUGO 215 + +EUTHANATOS 252 + +FIRST AND LAST 255 + +LINES ON THE DEATH OF EDWARD JOHN TRELAWNY 257 + +ADIEUX A MARIE STUART 259 + +HERSE 264 + +TWINS 267 + +THE SALT OF THE EARTH 272 + +SEVEN YEARS OLD 273 + +EIGHT YEARS OLD 275 + +COMPARISONS 278 + +WHAT IS DEATH? 280 + +A CHILD'S PITY 281 + +A CHILD'S LAUGHTER 283 + +A CHILD'S THANKS 285 + +A CHILD'S BATTLES 287 + +A CHILD'S FUTURE 293 + +SUNRISE 368 + + + + + ATHENS: AN ODE + + + + + ATHENS + + AN ODE + + + Ere from under earth again like fire the violet kindle, [_Str. 1._ + Ere the holy buds and hoar on olive-branches bloom, + Ere the crescent of the last pale month of winter dwindle, + Shrink, and fall as falls a dead leaf on the dead month's tomb, + Round the hills whose heights the first-born olive-blossom + brightened, + Round the city brow-bound once with violets like a bride, + Up from under earth again a light that long since lightened + Breaks, whence all the world took comfort as all time takes + pride. + Pride have all men in their fathers that were free before them, + In the warriors that begat us free-born pride have we: + But the fathers of their spirits, how may men adore them, + With what rapture may we praise, who bade our souls be free? + Sons of Athens born in spirit and truth are all born free men; + Most of all, we, nurtured where the north wind holds his reign: + Children all we sea-folk of the Salaminian seamen, + Sons of them that beat back Persia they that beat back Spain. + Since the songs of Greece fell silent, none like ours have risen; + Since the sails of Greece fell slack, no ships have sailed like + ours; + How should we lament not, if her spirit sit in prison? + How should we rejoice not, if her wreaths renew their flowers? + All the world is sweeter, if the Athenian violet quicken: + All the world is brighter, if the Athenian sun return: + All things foul on earth wax fainter, by that sun's light stricken: + All ill growths are withered, where those fragrant flower-lights + burn. + All the wandering waves of seas with all their warring waters + Roll the record on for ever of the sea-fight there, + When the capes were battle's lists, and all the straits were + slaughter's, + And the myriad Medes as foam-flakes on the scattering air. + Ours the lightning was that cleared the north and lit the nations, + But the light that gave the whole world light of old was she: + Ours an age or twain, but hers are endless generations: + All the world is hers at heart, and most of all are we. + + Ye that bear the name about you of her glory, [_Ant. 1._ + Men that wear the sign of Greeks upon you sealed, + Yours is yet the choice to write yourselves in story + Sons of them that fought the Marathonian field. + Slaves of no man were ye, said your warrior poet, + Neither subject unto man as underlings: + Yours is now the season here wherein to show it, + If the seed ye be of them that knew not kings. + If ye be not, swords nor words alike found brittle + From the dust of death to raise you shall prevail: + Subject swords and dead men's words may stead you little, + If their old king-hating heart within you fail. + If your spirit of old, and not your bonds, be broken, + If the kingless heart be molten in your breasts, + By what signs and wonders, by what word or token, + Shall ye drive the vultures from your eagles' nests? + All the gains of tyrants Freedom counts for losses; + Nought of all the work done holds she worth the work, + When the slaves whose faith is set on crowns and crosses + Drive the Cossack bear against the tiger Turk. + Neither cross nor crown nor crescent shall ye bow to, + Nought of Araby nor Jewry, priest nor king: + As your watchword was of old, so be it now too: + As from lips long stilled, from yours let healing spring. + Through the fights of old, your battle-cry was healing, + And the Saviour that ye called on was the Sun: + Dawn by dawn behold in heaven your God, revealing + Light from darkness as when Marathon was won. + Gods were yours yet strange to Turk or Galilean, + Light and Wisdom only then as gods adored: + Pallas was your shield, your comforter was Paean, + From your bright world's navel spake the Sun your Lord. + + Though the names be lost, and changed the signs of Light and Wisdom + be, [_Ep. 1._ + By these only shall men conquer, by these only be set free: + When the whole world's eye was Athens, these were yours, and theirs + were ye. + Light was given you of your wisdom, light ye gave the world again: + As the sun whose godhead lightened on her soul was Hellas then: + Yea, the least of all her children as the chosen of other men. + Change your hearts not with your garments, nor your faith with + creeds that change: + Truth was yours, the truth which time and chance transform not nor + estrange: + Purer truth nor higher abides not in the reach of time's whole + range. + Gods are they in all men's memories and for all time's periods, + They that hurled the host back seaward which had scourged the sea + with rods: + Gods for us are all your fathers, even the least of these as gods. + In the dark of days the thought of them is with us, strong to save, + They that had no lord, and made the Great King lesser than a slave; + They that rolled all Asia back on Asia, broken like a wave. + No man's men were they, no master's and no God's but these their + own: + Gods not loved in vain nor served amiss, nor all yet overthrown: + Love of country, Freedom, Wisdom, Light, and none save these alone. + King by king came up against them, sire and son, and turned to + flee: + Host on host roared westward, mightier each than each, if more + might be: + Field to field made answer, clamorous like as wave to wave at sea. + Strife to strife responded, loud as rocks to clangorous rocks + respond + Where the deep rings wreck to seamen held in tempest's thrall and + bond, + Till when war's bright work was perfect peace as radiant rose + beyond: + Peace made bright with fruit of battle, stronger made for storm + gone down, + With the flower of song held heavenward for the violet of her crown + Woven about the fragrant forehead of the fostress maiden's town. + Gods arose alive on earth from under stroke of human hands: + As the hands that wrought them, these are dead, and mixed with + time's dead sands: + But the godhead of supernal song, though these now stand not, + stands. + Pallas is not, Phoebus breathes no more in breathing brass or + gold: + Clytaemnestra towers, Cassandra wails, for ever: Time is bold, + But nor heart nor hand hath he to unwrite the scriptures writ of + old. + Dead the great chryselephantine God, as dew last evening shed: + Dust of earth or foam of ocean is the symbol of his head: + Earth and ocean shall be shadows when Prometheus shall be dead. + + Fame around her warriors living rang through Greece and lightened, + [_Str. 2._ + Moving equal with their stature, stately with their strength: + Thebes and Lacedaemon at their breathing presence brightened, + Sense or sound of them filled all the live land's breadth and + length. + All the lesser tribes put on the pure Athenian fashion, + One Hellenic heart was from the mountains to the sea: + Sparta's bitter self grew sweet with high half-human passion, + And her dry thorns flushed aflower in strait Thermopylae. + Fruitless yet the flowers had fallen, and all the deeds died + fruitless, + Save that tongues of after men, the children of her peace, + Took the tale up of her glories, transient else and rootless, + And in ears and hearts of all men left the praise of Greece. + Fair the war-time was when still, as beacon answering beacon, + Sea to land flashed fight, and thundered note of wrath or cheer; + But the strength of noonday night hath power to waste and weaken, + Nor may light be passed from hand to hand of year to year + If the dying deed be saved not, ere it die for ever, + By the hands and lips of men more wise than years are strong; + If the soul of man take heed not that the deed die never, + Clothed about with purple and gold of story, crowned with song. + Still the burning heart of boy and man alike rejoices, + Hearing words which made it seem of old for all who sang + That their heaven of heavens waxed happier when from free men's + voices + _Well-beloved Harmodius and Aristogeiton_ rang. + Never fell such fragrance from the flower-month's rose-red kirtle + As from chaplets on the bright friends' brows who slew their + lord: + Greener grew the leaf and balmier blew the flower of myrtle + When its blossom sheathed the sheer tyrannicidal sword. + None so glorious garland crowned the feast Panathenaean + As this wreath too frail to fetter fast the Cyprian dove: + None so fiery song sprang sunwards annual as the paean + Praising perfect love of friends and perfect country's love. + + Higher than highest of all those heavens wherefrom the starry + [_Ant. 2._ + Song of Homer shone above the rolling fight, + Gleams like spring's green bloom on boughs all gaunt and gnarry + Soft live splendour as of flowers of foam in flight, + Glows a glory of mild-winged maidens upward mounting + Sheer through air made shrill with strokes of smooth swift wings + Round the rocks beyond foot's reach, past eyesight's counting, + Up the cleft where iron wind of winter rings + Round a God fast clenched in iron jaws of fetters, + Him who culled for man the fruitful flower of fire, + Bared the darkling scriptures writ in dazzling letters, + Taught the truth of dreams deceiving men's desire, + Gave their water-wandering chariot-seats of ocean + Wings, and bade the rage of war-steeds champ the rein, + Showed the symbols of the wild birds' wheeling motion, + Waged for man's sake war with God and all his train. + Earth, whose name was also Righteousness, a mother + Many-named and single-natured, gave him breath + Whence God's wrath could wring but this word and none other-- + _He may smite me, yet he shall not do to death._ + Him the tongue that sang triumphant while tormented + Sang as loud the sevenfold storm that roared erewhile + Round the towers of Thebes till wrath might rest contented: + Sang the flight from smooth soft-sanded banks of Nile, + When like mateless doves that fly from snare or tether + Came the suppliants landwards trembling as they trod, + And the prayer took wing from all their tongues together-- + _King of kings, most holy of holies, blessed God._ + But what mouth may chant again, what heart may know it, + All the rapture that all hearts of men put on + When of Salamis the time-transcending poet + Sang, whose hand had chased the Mede at Marathon? + + Darker dawned the song with stormier wings above the watch-fire + spread [_Ep. 2._ + Whence from Ida toward the hill of Hermes leapt the light that said + Troy was fallen, a torch funereal for the king's triumphal head. + Dire indeed the birth of Leda's womb that had God's self to sire + Bloomed, a flower of love that stung the soul with fangs that gnaw + like fire: + But the twin-born human-fathered sister-flower bore fruit more + dire. + Scarce the cry that called on airy heaven and all swift winds on + wing, + Wells of river-heads, and countless laugh of waves past reckoning, + Earth which brought forth all, and the orbed sun that looks on + everything, + Scarce that cry fills yet men's hearts more full of heart-devouring + dread + Than the murderous word said mocking, how the child whose blood he + shed + Might clasp fast and kiss her father where the dead salute the + dead. + But the latter note of anguish from the lips that mocked her lord, + When her son's hand bared against the breast that suckled him his + sword, + How might man endure, O AEschylus, to hear it and record? + How might man endure, being mortal yet, O thou most highest, to + hear? + How record, being born of woman? Surely not thy Furies near, + Surely this beheld, this only, blasted hearts to death with fear. + Not the hissing hair, nor flakes of blood that oozed from eyes of + fire, + Nor the snort of savage sleep that snuffed the hungering heart's + desire + Where the hunted prey found hardly space and harbour to respire; + She whose likeness called them--"Sleep ye, ho? what need of you + that sleep?" + (Ah, what need indeed, where she was, of all shapes that night may + keep + Hidden dark as death and deeper than men's dreams of hell are + deep?) + She the murderess of her husband, she the huntress of her son, + More than ye was she, the shadow that no God withstands but one, + Wisdom equal-eyed and stronger and more splendid than the sun. + Yea, no God may stand betwixt us and the shadows of our deeds, + Nor the light of dreams that lighten darkness, nor the prayer that + pleads, + But the wisdom equal-souled with heaven, the light alone that + leads. + Light whose law bids home those childless children of eternal + night, + Soothed and reconciled and mastered and transmuted in men's sight + Who behold their own souls, clothed with darkness once, now clothed + with light. + King of kings and father crowned of all our fathers crowned of + yore, + Lord of all the lords of song, whose head all heads bow down + before, + Glory be to thee from all thy sons in all tongues evermore. + + Rose and vine and olive and deep ivy-bloom entwining [_Str. 3._ + Close the goodliest grave that e'er they closeliest might entwine + Keep the wind from wasting and the sun from too strong shining + Where the sound and light of sweetest songs still float and + shine. + Here the music seems to illume the shade, the light to whisper + Song, the flowers to put not odours only forth, but words + Sweeter far than fragrance: here the wandering wreaths twine + crisper + Far, and louder far exults the note of all wild birds. + Thoughts that change us, joys that crown and sorrows that enthrone + us, + Passions that enrobe us with a clearer air than ours, + Move and breathe as living things beheld round white Colonus, + Audibler than melodies and visibler than flowers. + Love, in fight unconquered, Love, with spoils of great men laden, + Never sang so sweet from throat of woman or of dove: + Love, whose bed by night is in the soft cheeks of a maiden, + And his march is over seas, and low roofs lack not Love; + Nor may one of all that live, ephemeral or eternal, + Fly nor hide from Love; but whoso clasps him fast goes mad. + Never since the first-born year with flowers first-born grew vernal + Such a song made listening hearts of lovers glad or sad. + Never sounded note so radiant at the rayless portal + Opening wide on the all-concealing lowland of the dead + As the music mingling, when her doomsday marked her mortal, + From her own and old men's voices round the bride's way shed, + Round the grave her bride-house, hewn for endless habitation, + Where, shut out from sunshine, with no bridegroom by, she slept; + But beloved of all her dark and fateful generation, + But with all time's tears and praise besprinkled and bewept: + Well-beloved of outcast father and self-slaughtered mother, + Born, yet unpolluted, of their blind incestuous bed; + Best-beloved of him for whose dead sake she died, her brother, + Hallowing by her own life's gift her own born brother's head; + + Not with wine or oil nor any less libation [_Ant. 3._ + Hallowed, nor made sweet with humbler perfume's breath; + Not with only these redeemed from desecration, + But with blood and spirit of life poured forth to death; + Blood unspotted, spirit unsullied, life devoted, + Sister too supreme to make the bride's hope good, + Daughter too divine as woman to be noted, + Spouse of only death in mateless maidenhood. + Yea, in her was all the prayer fulfilled, the saying + All accomplished--_Would that fate would let me wear + Hallowed innocence of words and all deeds, weighing + Well the laws thereof, begot on holier air, + Far on high sublimely stablished, whereof only + Heaven is father; nor did birth of mortal mould + Bring them forth, nor shall oblivion lull to lonely + Slumber. Great in these is God, and grows not old._ + Therefore even that inner darkness where she perished + Surely seems as holy and lovely, seen aright, + As desirable and as dearly to be cherished, + As the haunt closed in with laurels from the light, + Deep inwound with olive and wild vine inwoven, + Where a godhead known and unknown makes men pale, + But the darkness of the twilight noon is cloven + Still with shrill sweet moan of many a nightingale. + Closer clustering there they make sweet noise together, + Where the fearful gods look gentler than our fear, + And the grove thronged through with birds of holiest feather + Grows nor pale nor dumb with sense of dark things near. + There her father, called upon with signs of wonder, + Passed with tenderest words away by ways unknown, + Not by sea-storm stricken down, nor touched of thunder, + To the dark benign deep underworld, alone. + + Third of three that ruled in Athens, kings with sceptral song for + staff, [_Ep. 3._ + Gladdest heart that God gave ever milk and wine of thought to + quaff, + Clearest eye that lightened ever to the broad lip's lordliest + laugh, + Praise be thine as theirs whose tragic brows the loftier leaf + engirds + For the live and lyric lightning of thy honey-hearted words, + Soft like sunny dewy wings of clouds and bright as crying of birds; + Full of all sweet rays and notes that make of earth and air and sea + One great light and sound of laughter from one great God's heart, + to be + Sign and semblance of the gladness of man's life where men breathe + free. + With no Loxian sound obscure God uttered once, and all time heard, + All the soul of Athens, all the soul of England, in that word: + Rome arose the second child of freedom: northward rose the third. + Ere her Boreal dawn came kindling seas afoam and fields of snow, + Yet again, while Europe groaned and grovelled, shone like suns + aglow + Doria splendid over Genoa, Venice bright with Dandolo. + Dead was Hellas, but Ausonia by the light of dead men's deeds + Rose and walked awhile alive, though mocked as whom the fen-fire + leads + By the creed-wrought faith of faithless souls that mock their + doubts with creeds. + Dead are these, and man is risen again: and haply now the three + Yet coequal and triune may stand in story, marked as free + By the token of the washing of the waters of the sea. + Athens first of all earth's kindred many-tongued and many-kinned + Had the sea to friend and comfort, and for kinsman had the wind: + She that bare Columbus next: then she that made her spoil of Ind. + She that hears not what man's rage but only what the sea-wind + saith: + She that turned Spain's ships to cloud-wrack at the blasting of her + breath, + By her strengths of strong-souled children and of strong winds done + to death. + North and south the Great King's galleons went in Persian wise: and + here + She, with AEschylean music on her lips that laughed back fear, + In the face of Time's grey godhead shook the splendour of her + spear. + Fair as Athens then with foot upon her foeman's front, and strong + Even as Athens for redemption of the world from sovereign wrong, + Like as Athens crowned she stood before the sun with crowning song. + All the world is theirs with whom is freedom: first of all the + free, + Blest are they whom song has crowned and clothed with blessing: + these as we, + These alone have part in spirit with the sun that crowns the sea. + + _April 1881._ + + + + + THE STATUE OF VICTOR HUGO + + + 1 + + Since in Athens God stood plain for adoration, + Since the sun beheld his likeness reared in stone, + Since the bronze or gold of human consecration + Gave to Greece her guardian's form and feature shown, + Never hand of sculptor, never heart of nation, + Found so glorious aim in all these ages flown + As is theirs who rear for all time's acclamation + Here the likeness of our mightiest and their own. + + + 2 + + Theirs and ours and all men's living who behold him + Crowned with garlands multiform and manifold; + Praise and thanksgiving of all mankind enfold him + Who for all men casts abroad his gifts of gold. + With the gods of song have all men's tongues enrolled him, + With the helpful gods have all men's hearts enrolled: + Ours he is who love him, ours whose hearts' hearts hold him + Fast as his the trust that hearts like his may hold. + + + 3 + + He, the heart most high, the spirit on earth most blameless, + Takes in charge all spirits, holds all hearts in trust: + As the sea-wind's on the sea his ways are tameless, + As the laws that steer the world his works are just. + All most noble feel him nobler, all most shameless + Feel his wrath and scorn make pale their pride and lust: + All most poor and lowliest, all whose wrongs were nameless, + Feel his word of comfort raise them from the dust. + + + 4 + + Pride of place and lust of empire bloody-fruited + Knew the blasting of his breath on leaf and fruit: + Now the hand that smote the death-tree now disrooted + Plants the refuge-tree that has man's hope for root. + Ah, but we by whom his darkness was saluted, + How shall now all we that see his day salute? + How should love not seem by love's own speech confuted, + Song before the sovereign singer not be mute? + + + 5 + + With what worship, by what blessing, in what measure, + May we sing of him, salute him, or adore, + With what hymn for praise, what thanksgiving for pleasure, + Who had given us more than heaven, and gives us more? + Heaven's whole treasury, filled up full with night's whole + treasure, + Holds not so divine or deep a starry store + As the soul supreme that deals forth worlds at leisure + Clothed with light and darkness, dense with flower and ore. + + + 6 + + Song had touched the bourn: fresh verses overflow it, + Loud and radiant, waves on waves on waves that throng; + Still the tide grows, and the sea-mark still below it + Sinks and shifts and rises, changed and swept along. + Rose it like a rock? the waters overthrow it, + And another stands beyond them sheer and strong: + Goal by goal pays down its prize, and yields its poet + Tribute claimed of triumph, palm achieved of song. + + + 7 + + Since his hand that holds the keys of fear and wonder + Opened on the high priest's dreaming eyes a door + Whence the lights of heaven and hell above and under + Shone, and smote the face that men bow down before, + Thrice again one singer's note had cloven in sunder + Night, who blows again not one blast now but four, + And the fourfold heaven is kindled with his thunder, + And the stars about his forehead are fourscore. + + + 8 + + From the deep soul's depths where alway love abounded + First had risen a song with healing on its wings + Whence the dews of mercy raining balms unbounded + Shed their last compassion even on sceptred things.[1] + Even on heads that like a curse the crown surrounded + Fell his crowning pity, soft as cleansing springs; + And the sweet last note his wrath relenting sounded + Bade men's hearts be melted not for slaves but kings. + + + 9 + + Next, that faith might strengthen fear and love embolden, + On the creeds of priests a scourge of sunbeams fell: + And its flash made bare the deeps of heaven, beholden + Not of men that cry, Lord, Lord, from church or cell.[2] + Hope as young as dawn from night obscure and olden + Rose again, such power abides in truth's one spell: + Night, if dawn it be that touches her, grows golden; + Tears, if such as angels weep, extinguish hell. + + + 10 + + Through the blind loud mills of barren blear-eyed learning + Where in dust and darkness children's foreheads bow, + While men's labour, vain as wind or water turning + Wheels and sails of dreams, makes life a leafless bough, + Fell the light of scorn and pity touched with yearning, + Next, from words that shone as heaven's own kindling brow.[3] + Stars were these as watch-fires on the world's waste burning, + Stars that fade not in the fourfold sunrise now.[4] + + + 11 + + Now the voice that faints not till all wrongs be wroken + Sounds as might the sun's song from the morning's breast, + All the seals of silence sealed of night are broken, + All the winds that bear the fourfold word are blest. + All the keen fierce east flames forth one fiery token; + All the north is loud with life that knows not rest, + All the south with song as though the stars had spoken; + All the judgment-fire of sunset scathes the west. + + + 12 + + Sound of paean, roll of chanted panegyric, + Though by Pindar's mouth song's trumpet spake forth praise, + March of warrior songs in Pythian mood or Pyrrhic, + Though the blast were blown by lips of ancient days, + + Ring not clearer than the clarion of satiric + Song whose breath sweeps bare the plague-infected ways + Till the world be pure as heaven is for the lyric + Sun to rise up clothed with radiant sounds as rays. + + + 13 + + Clear across the cloud-rack fluctuant and erratic + As the strong star smiles that lets no mourner mourn, + Hymned alike from lips of Lesbian choirs or Attic + Once at evensong and morning newly born, + Clear and sure above the changes of dramatic + Tide and current, soft with love and keen with scorn, + Smiles the strong sweet soul of maidenhood, ecstatic + And inviolate as the red glad mouth of morn. + + + 14 + + Pure and passionate as dawn, whose apparition + Thrills with fire from heaven the wheels of hours that whirl, + Rose and passed her radiance in serene transition + From his eyes who sought a grain and found a pearl. + But the food by cunning hope for vain fruition + Lightly stolen away from keeping of a churl + Left the bitterness of death and hope's perdition + On the lip that scorn was wont for shame to curl.[5] + + + 15 + + Over waves that darken round the wave-worn rover + Rang his clarion higher than winds cried round the ship, + Rose a pageant of set suns and storms blown over, + Hands that held life's guerdons fast or let them slip. + But no tongue may tell, no thanksgiving discover, + Half the heaven of blessing, soft with clouds that drip, + Keen with beams that kindle, dear as love to lover, + Opening by the spell's strength on his lyric lip. + + + 16 + + By that spell the soul transfigured and dilated + Puts forth wings that widen, breathes a brightening air, + Feeds on light and drinks of music, whence elated + All her sense grows godlike, seeing all depths made bare, + All the mists wherein before she sat belated + Shrink, till now the sunlight knows not if they were; + All this earth transformed is Eden recreated, + With the breath of heaven remurmuring in her hair. + + + 17 + + Sweeter far than aught of sweet that April nurses + Deep in dew-dropt woodland folded fast and furled + Breathes the fragrant song whose burning dawn disperses + Darkness, like the surge of armies backward hurled, + Even as though the touch of spring's own hand, that pierces + Earth with life's delight, had hidden in the impearled + Golden bells and buds and petals of his verses + All the breath of all the flowers in all the world. + + + 18 + + But the soul therein, the light that our souls follow, + Fires and fills the song with more of prophet's pride, + More of life than all the gulfs of death may swallow, + More of flame than all the might of night may hide. + Though the whole dark age were loud and void and hollow, + Strength of trust were here, and help for all souls tried, + And a token from the flight of that strange swallow[6] + Whose migration still is toward the wintry side. + + + 19 + + Never came such token for divine solution + From the oraculous live darkness whence of yore + Ancient faith sought word of help and retribution, + Truth to lighten doubt, a sign to go before. + Never so baptismal waters of ablution + Bathed the brows of exile on so stern a shore, + Where the lightnings of the sea of revolution + Flashed across them ere its thunders yet might roar. + + + 20 + + By the lightning's light of present revelation + Shown, with epic thunder as from skies that frown, + Clothed in darkness as of darkling expiation, + Rose a vision of dead, stars and suns gone down, + Whence of old fierce fire devoured the star-struck nation, + Till its wrath and woe lit red the raging town, + Now made glorious with his statue's crowning station, + Where may never gleam again a viler crown. + + + 21 + + King, with time for throne and all the years for pages, + He shall reign though all thrones else be overhurled, + Served of souls that have his living words for wages, + Crowned of heaven each dawn that leaves his brows impearled; + Girt about with robes unrent of storm that rages, + Robes not wrought with hands, from no loom's weft unfurled; + All the praise of all earth's tongues in all earth's ages, + All the love of all men's hearts in all the world. + + + 22 + + Yet what hand shall carve the soul or cast the spirit, + Mould the face of fame, bid glory's feature glow? + Who bequeath for eyes of ages hence to inherit + Him, the Master, whom love knows not if it know? + Scarcely perfect praise of men man's work might merit, + Scarcely bid such aim to perfect stature grow, + Were his hand the hand of Phidias who shall rear it, + And his soul the very soul of Angelo. + + + 23 + + Michael, awful angel of the world's last session, + Once on earth, like him, with fire of suffering tried, + Thine it were, if man's it were, without transgression, + Thine alone, to take this toil upon thy pride. + Thine, whose heart was great against the world's oppression, + Even as his whose word is lamp and staff and guide: + Advocate for man, untired of intercession, + Pleads his voice for slaves whose lords his voice defied. + + + 24 + + Earth, with all the kings and thralls on earth, below it, + Heaven alone, with all the worlds in heaven, above, + Let his likeness rise for suns and stars to know it, + High for men to worship, plain for men to love: + Brow that braved the tides which fain would overflow it, + Lip that gave the challenge, hand that flung the glove; + Comforter and prophet, Paraclete and poet, + Soul whose emblems are an eagle and a dove. + + + 25 + + Sun, that hast not seen a loftier head wax hoary, + Earth, which hast not shown the sun a nobler birth, + Time, that hast not on thy scroll defiled and gory + One man's name writ brighter in its whole wide girth, + Witness, till the final years fulfil their story, + Till the stars break off the music of their mirth, + What among the sons of men was this man's glory, + What the vesture of his soul revealed on earth. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] _La Pitie Supreme._ 1879. + +[2] _Religions et Religion._ 1880. + +[3] _L'Ane._ 1880. + +[4] _Les Quatre Vents de l'Esprit._ I. _Le Livre satirique._ II. _Le +Livre dramatique._ III. _Le Livre lyrique._ IV. _Le Livre epique._ 1881. + +[5] _Les Deux Trouvailles de Gallus._ I. _Margarita, comedie._ II. +_Esca, drame._ + +[6] + + Je suis une hirondelle etrange, car j'emigre + Du cote de l'hiver. + + _Le Livre Lyrique_, liii. + + + + + EUTHANATOS + + IN MEMORY OF MRS. THELLUSSON + + + Forth of our ways and woes, + Forth of the winds and snows, + A white soul soaring goes, + Winged like a dove: + So sweet, so pure, so clear, + So heavenly tempered here, + Love need not hope or fear her changed above: + + Ere dawned her day to die, + So heavenly, that on high + Change could not glorify + Nor death refine her: + Pure gold of perfect love, + On earth like heaven's own dove, + She cannot wear, above, a smile diviner. + + Her voice in heaven's own quire + Can sound no heavenlier lyre + Than here: no purer fire + Her soul can soar: + No sweeter stars her eyes + In unimagined skies + Beyond our sight can rise than here before. + + Hardly long years had shed + Their shadows on her head: + Hardly we think her dead, + Who hardly thought her + Old: hardly can believe + The grief our hearts receive + And wonder while they grieve, as wrong were wrought her. + + But though strong grief be strong + No word or thought of wrong + May stain the trembling song, + Wring the bruised heart, + That sounds or sighs its faint + Low note of love, nor taint + Grief for so sweet a saint, when such depart. + + A saint whose perfect soul, + With perfect love for goal, + Faith hardly might control, + Creeds might not harden: + A flower more splendid far + Than the most radiant star + Seen here of all that are in God's own garden. + + Surely the stars we see + Rise and relapse as we, + And change and set, may be + But shadows too: + But spirits that man's lot + Could neither mar nor spot + Like these false lights are not, being heavenly true. + + Not like these dying lights + Of worlds whose glory smites + The passage of the nights + Through heaven's blind prison: + Not like their souls who see, + If thought fly far and free, + No heavenlier heaven to be for souls rerisen. + + A soul wherein love shone + Even like the sun, alone, + With fervour of its own + And splendour fed, + Made by no creeds less kind + Toward souls by none confined, + Could Death's self quench or blind, Love's self were dead. + + _February 4, 1881._ + + + + + FIRST AND LAST + + + Upon the borderlands of being, + Where life draws hardly breath + Between the lights and shadows fleeing + Fast as a word one saith, + Two flowers rejoice our eyesight, seeing + The dawns of birth and death. + + Behind the babe his dawn is lying + Half risen with notes of mirth + From all the winds about it flying + Through new-born heaven and earth: + Before bright age his day for dying + Dawns equal-eyed with birth. + + Equal the dews of even and dawn, + Equal the sun's eye seen + A hand's breadth risen and half withdrawn: + But no bright hour between + Brings aught so bright by stream or lawn + To noonday growths of green. + + Which flower of life may smell the sweeter + To love's insensual sense, + Which fragrance move with offering meeter + His soothed omnipotence, + Being chosen as fairer or as fleeter, + Borne hither or borne hence, + Love's foiled omniscience knows not: this + Were more than all he knows + With all his lore of bale and bliss, + The choice of rose and rose, + One red as lips that touch with his, + One white as moonlit snows. + + No hope is half so sweet and good, + No dream of saint or sage + So fair as these are: no dark mood + But these might best assuage; + The sweet red rose of babyhood, + The white sweet rose of age. + + + + + LINES ON THE DEATH OF EDWARD JOHN TRELAWNY + + + Last high star of the years whose thunder + Still men's listening remembrance hears, + Last light left of our fathers' years, + Watched with honour and hailed with wonder + Thee too then have the years borne under, + Thou too then hast regained thy peers. + + Wings that warred with the winds of morning, + Storm-winds rocking the red great dawn, + Close at last, and a film is drawn + Over the eyes of the storm-bird, scorning + Now no longer the loud wind's warning, + Waves that threaten or waves that fawn. + + Peers were none of thee left us living, + Peers of theirs we shall see no more. + Eight years over the full fourscore + Knew thee: now shalt thou sleep, forgiving + All griefs past of the wild world's giving, + Moored at last on the stormless shore. + + Worldwide liberty's lifelong lover, + Lover no less of the strength of song, + Sea-king, swordsman, hater of wrong, + Over thy dust that the dust shall cover + Comes my song as a bird to hover, + Borne of its will as of wings along. + + Cherished of thee were this brief song's brothers + Now that follows them, cherishing thee. + Over the tides and the tideless sea + Soft as a smile of the earth our mother's + Flies it faster than all those others, + First of the troop at thy tomb to be. + + Memories of Greece and the mountain's hollow + Guarded alone of thy loyal sword + Hold thy name for our hearts in ward: + Yet more fain are our hearts to follow + One way now with the southward swallow + Back to the grave of the man their lord. + + Heart of hearts, art thou moved not, hearing + Surely, if hearts of the dead may hear, + Whose true heart it is now draws near? + Surely the sense of it thrills thee, cheering + Darkness and death with the news now nearing-- + Shelley, Trelawny rejoins thee here. + + + + + ADIEUX A MARIE STUART + + + I + + Queen, for whose house my fathers fought, + With hopes that rose and fell, + Red star of boyhood's fiery thought, + Farewell. + + They gave their lives, and I, my queen, + Have given you of my life, + Seeing your brave star burn high between + Men's strife. + + The strife that lightened round their spears + Long since fell still: so long + Hardly may hope to last in years + My song. + + But still through strife of time and thought + Your light on me too fell: + Queen, in whose name we sang or fought, + Farewell. + + + II + + There beats no heart on either border + Wherethrough the north blasts blow + But keeps your memory as a warder + His beacon-fire aglow. + + Long since it fired with love and wonder + Mine, for whose April age + Blithe midsummer made banquet under + The shade of Hermitage. + + Soft sang the burn's blithe notes, that gather + Strength to ring true: + And air and trees and sun and heather + Remembered you. + + Old border ghosts of fight or fairy + Or love or teen, + These they forgot, remembering Mary + The Queen. + + + III + + Queen once of Scots and ever of ours + Whose sires brought forth for you + Their lives to strew your way like flowers. + Adieu. + + Dead is full many a dead man's name + Who died for you this long + Time past: shall this too fare the same, + My song? + + But surely, though it die or live, + Your face was worth + All that a man may think to give + On earth. + + No darkness cast of years between + Can darken you: + Man's love will never bid my queen + Adieu. + + + IV + + Love hangs like light about your name + As music round the shell: + No heart can take of you a tame + Farewell. + + Yet, when your very face was seen, + Ill gifts were yours for giving: + Love gat strange guerdons of my queen + When living. + + O diamond heart unflawed and clear, + The whole world's crowning jewel! + Was ever heart so deadly dear + So cruel? + + Yet none for you of all that bled + Grudged once one drop that fell: + Not one to life reluctant said + Farewell. + + + V + + Strange love they have given you, love disloyal, + Who mock with praise your name, + To leave a head so rare and royal + Too low for praise or blame. + + You could not love nor hate, they tell us, + You had nor sense nor sting: + In God's name, then, what plague befell us + To fight for such a thing? + + "Some faults the gods will give," to fetter + Man's highest intent: + But surely you were something better + Than innocent! + + No maid that strays with steps unwary + Through snares unseen, + But one to live and die for; Mary, + The Queen. + + + VI + + Forgive them all their praise, who blot + Your fame with praise of you: + Then love may say, and falter not, + Adieu. + + Yet some you hardly would forgive + Who did you much less wrong + Once: but resentment should not live + Too long. + + They never saw your lip's bright bow, + Your swordbright eyes, + The bluest of heavenly things below + The skies. + + Clear eyes that love's self finds most like + A swordblade's blue, + A swordblade's ever keen to strike, + Adieu. + + + VII + + Though all things breathe or sound of fight + That yet make up your spell, + To bid you were to bid the light + Farewell. + + Farewell the song says only, being + A star whose race is run: + Farewell the soul says never, seeing + The sun. + + Yet, wellnigh as with flash of tears, + The song must say but so + That took your praise up twenty years + Ago. + + More bright than stars or moons that vary, + Sun kindling heaven and hell, + Here, after all these years, Queen Mary, + Farewell. + + + + + HERSE + + + When grace is given us ever to behold + A child some sweet months old, + Love, laying across our lips his finger, saith, + Smiling, with bated breath, + Hush! for the holiest thing that lives is here, + And heaven's own heart how near! + How dare we, that may gaze not on the sun, + Gaze on this verier one? + Heart, hold thy peace; eyes, be cast down for shame; + Lips, breathe not yet its name. + In heaven they know what name to call it; we, + How should we know? For, see! + The adorable sweet living marvellous + Strange light that lightens us + Who gaze, desertless of such glorious grace, + Full in a babe's warm face! + All roses that the morning rears are nought, + All stars not worth a thought, + Set this one star against them, or suppose + As rival this one rose. + What price could pay with earth's whole weight of gold + One least flushed roseleaf's fold + Of all this dimpling store of smiles that shine + From each warm curve and line, + Each charm of flower-sweet flesh, to reillume + The dappled rose-red bloom + Of all its dainty body, honey-sweet + Clenched hands and curled-up feet, + That on the roses of the dawn have trod + As they came down from God, + And keep the flush and colour that the sky + Takes when the sun comes nigh, + And keep the likeness of the smile their grace + Evoked on God's own face + When, seeing this work of his most heavenly mood, + He saw that it was good? + For all its warm sweet body seems one smile, + And mere men's love too vile + To meet it, or with eyes that worship dims + Read o'er the little limbs, + Read all the book of all their beauties o'er, + Rejoice, revere, adore, + Bow down and worship each delight in turn, + Laugh, wonder, yield, and yearn. + But when our trembling kisses dare, yet dread, + Even to draw nigh its head, + And touch, and scarce with touch or breath surprise + Its mild miraculous eyes + Out of their viewless vision--O, what then, + What may be said of men? + What speech may name a new-born child? what word + Earth ever spake or heard? + The best men's tongue that ever glory knew + Called that a drop of dew + Which from the breathing creature's kindly womb + Came forth in blameless bloom. + We have no word, as had those men most high, + To call a baby by. + Rose, ruby, lily, pearl of stormless seas-- + A better word than these, + A better sign it was than flower or gem + That love revealed to them: + They knew that whence comes light or quickening flame, + Thence only this thing came, + And only might be likened of our love + To somewhat born above, + Not even to sweetest things dropped else on earth, + Only to dew's own birth. + Nor doubt we but their sense was heavenly true, + Babe, when we gaze on you, + A dew-drop out of heaven whose colours are + More bright than sun or star, + As now, ere watching love dare fear or hope, + Lips, hands, and eyelids ope, + And all your life is mixed with earthly leaven. + O child, what news from heaven? + + + + + TWINS + + AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO W. M. R. AND L. R. + + + April, on whose wings + Ride all gracious things, + Like the star that brings + All things good to man, + Ere his light, that yet + Makes the month shine, set, + And fair May forget + Whence her birth began, + + Brings, as heart would choose, + Sound of golden news, + Bright as kindling dews + When the dawn begins; + Tidings clear as mirth, + Sweet as air and earth + Now that hail the birth, + Twice thus blest, of twins. + + In the lovely land + Where with hand in hand + Lovers wedded stand + Other joys before + Made your mixed life sweet: + Now, as Time sees meet, + Three glad blossoms greet + Two glad blossoms more. + + Fed with sun and dew, + While your joys were new, + First arose and grew + One bright olive-shoot: + Then a fair and fine + Slip of warm-haired pine + Felt the sweet sun shine + On its leaf and fruit. + + And it wore for mark + Graven on the dark + Beauty of its bark + That the noblest name + Worn in song of old + By the king whose bold + Hand had fast in hold + All the flower of fame. + + Then, with southern skies + Flattered in her eyes, + Which, in lovelier wise + Yet, reflect their blue + Brightened more, being bright + Here with life's delight, + And with love's live light + Glorified anew, + + Came, as fair as came + One who bore her name + (She that broke as flame + From the swan-shell white), + Crowned with tender hair + Only, but more fair + Than all queens that were + Themes of oldworld fight, + + Of your flowers the third + Bud, or new-fledged bird + In your hearts' nest heard + Murmuring like a dove + Bright as those that drew + Over waves where blew + No loud wind the blue + Heaven-hued car of love. + + Not the glorious grace + Even of that one face + Potent to displace + All the towers of Troy + Surely shone more clear + Once with childlike cheer + Than this child's face here + Now with living joy. + + After these again + Here in April's train + Breaks the bloom of twain + Blossoms in one birth + For a crown of May + On the front of day + When he takes his way + Over heaven and earth. + + Half a heavenly thing + Given from heaven to Spring + By the sun her king, + Half a tender toy, + Seems a child of curl + Yet too soft to twirl; + Seems the flower-sweet girl + By the flower-bright boy. + + All the kind gods' grace, + All their love, embrace + Ever either face, + Ever brood above them: + All soft wings of hours + Screen them as with flowers + From all beams and showers: + All life's seasons love them. + + When the dews of sleep + Falling lightliest keep + Eyes too close to peep + Forth and laugh off rest, + Joy from face to feet + Fill them, as is meet: + Life to them be sweet + As their mother's breast. + + When those dews are dry, + And in day's bright eye + Looking full they lie + Bright as rose and pearl, + All returns of joy + Pure of time's alloy + Bless the rose-red boy, + Guard the rose-white girl. + + + POSTSCRIPT + + Friends, if I could take + Half a note from Blake + Or but one verse make + Of the Conqueror's mine, + Better than my best + Song above your nest + I would sing: the quest + Now seems too divine. + + _April 28, 1881._ + + + + + THE SALT OF THE EARTH + + + If childhood were not in the world, + But only men and women grown; + No baby-locks in tendrils curled, + No baby-blossoms blown; + + Though men were stronger, women fairer, + And nearer all delights in reach, + And verse and music uttered rarer + Tones of more godlike speech; + + Though the utmost life of life's best hours + Found, as it cannot now find, words; + Though desert sands were sweet as flowers + And flowers could sing like birds, + + But children never heard them, never + They felt a child's foot leap and run + This were a drearier star than ever + Yet looked upon the sun. + + + + + SEVEN YEARS OLD + + + I + + Seven white roses on one tree, + Seven white loaves of blameless leaven, + Seven white sails on one soft sea, + Seven white swans on one lake's lee, + Seven white flowerlike stars in heaven, + All are types unmeet to be + For a birthday's crown of seven. + + + II + + Not the radiance of the roses, + Not the blessing of the bread, + Not the breeze that ere day grows is + Fresh for sails and swans, and closes + Wings above the sun's grave spread, + When the starshine on the snows is + Sweet as sleep on sorrow shed. + + + III + + Nothing sweetest, nothing best, + Holds so good and sweet a treasure + As the love wherewith once blest + Joy grows holy, grief takes rest, + Life, half tired with hours to measure, + Fills his eyes and lips and breast + With most light and breath of pleasure; + + IV + + As the rapture unpolluted, + As the passion undefiled, + By whose force all pains heart-rooted + Are transfigured and transmuted, + Recompensed and reconciled, + Through the imperial, undisputed, + Present godhead of a child. + + + V + + Brown bright eyes and fair bright head, + Worth a worthier crown than this is, + Worth a worthier song instead, + Sweet grave wise round mouth, full fed + With the joy of love, whose bliss is + More than mortal wine and bread, + Lips whose words are sweet as kisses, + + + VI + + Little hands so glad of giving, + Little heart so glad of love, + Little soul so glad of living, + While the strong swift hours are weaving + Light with darkness woven above, + Time for mirth and time for grieving, + Plume of raven and plume of dove, + + + VII + + I can give you but a word + Warm with love therein for leaven, + But a song that falls unheard + Yet on ears of sense unstirred + Yet by song so far from heaven, + Whence you came the brightest bird, + Seven years since, of seven times seven. + + + + + EIGHT YEARS OLD + + + I + + Sun, whom the faltering snow-cloud fears, + Rise, let the time of year be May, + Speak now the word that April hears, + Let March have all his royal way; + Bid all spring raise in winter's ears + All tunes her children hear or play, + Because the crown of eight glad years + On one bright head is set to-day. + + + II + + What matters cloud or sun to-day + To him who wears the wreath of years + So many, and all like flowers at play + With wind and sunshine, while his ears + Hear only song on every way? + More sweet than spring triumphant hears + Ring through the revel-rout of May + Are these, the notes that winter fears. + + + III + + Strong-hearted winter knows and fears + The music made of love at play, + Or haply loves the tune he hears + From hearts fulfilled with flowering May, + Whose molten music thaws his ears + Late frozen, deaf but yesterday + To sounds of dying and dawning years, + Now quickened on his deathward way. + + + IV + + For deathward now lies winter's way + Down the green vestibule of years + That each year brightens day by day + With flower and shower till hope scarce fears + And fear grows wholly hope of May. + But we--the music in our ears + Made of love's pulses as they play + The heart alone that makes it hears. + + + V + + The heart it is that plays and hears + High salutation of to-day. + Tongue falters, hand shrinks back, song fears + Its own unworthiness to play + Fit music for those eight sweet years, + Or sing their blithe accomplished way. + No song quite worth a young child's ears + Broke ever even from birds in May. + + + VI + + There beats not in the heart of May, + When summer hopes and springtide fears, + There falls not from the height of day, + When sunlight speaks and silence hears, + So sweet a psalm as children play + And sing, each hour of all their years, + Each moment of their lovely way, + And know not how it thrills our ears. + + + VII + + Ah child, what are we, that our ears + Should hear you singing on your way, + Should have this happiness? The years + Whose hurrying wings about us play + Are not like yours, whose flower-time fears + Nought worse than sunlit showers in May, + Being sinless as the spring, that hears + Her own heart praise her every day. + + + VIII + + Yet we too triumph in the day + That bare, to entrance our eyes and ears, + To lighten daylight, and to play + Such notes as darkness knows and fears, + The child whose face illumes our way, + Whose voice lifts up the heart that hears, + Whose hand is as the hand of May + To bring us flowers from eight full years. + + _February 4, 1882._ + + + + + COMPARISONS + + + Child, when they say that others + Have been or are like you, + Babes fit to be your brothers, + Sweet human drops of dew, + Bright fruit of mortal mothers, + What should one say or do? + + We know the thought is treason, + We feel the dream absurd; + A claim rebuked of reason, + That withers at a word: + For never shone the season + That bore so blithe a bird. + + Some smiles may seem as merry, + Some glances gleam as wise, + From lips as like a cherry + And scarce less gracious eyes; + Eyes browner than a berry, + Lips red as morning's rise. + + But never yet rang laughter + So sweet in gladdened ears + Through wall and floor and rafter + As all this household hears + And rings response thereafter + Till cloudiest weather clears. + + When those your chosen of all men, + Whose honey never cloys, + Two lights whose smiles enthrall men, + Were called at your age boys, + Those mighty men, while small men, + Could make no merrier noise. + + Our Shakespeare, surely, daffed not + More lightly pain aside + From radiant lips that quaffed not + Of forethought's tragic tide: + Our Dickens, doubtless, laughed not + More loud with life's first pride. + + The dawn were not more cheerless + With neither light nor dew + Than we without the fearless + Clear laugh that thrills us through: + If ever child stood peerless, + Love knows that child is you. + + + + + WHAT IS DEATH? + + + Looking on a page where stood + Graven of old on old-world wood + Death, and by the grave's edge grim, + Pale, the young man facing him, + Asked my well-beloved of me + Once what strange thing; this might be, + Gaunt and great of limb. + + Death, I told him: and, surprise + Deepening more his wildwood eyes + (Like some sweet fleet thing's whose breath + Speaks all spring though nought it saith), + Up he turned his rosebright face + Glorious with its seven years' grace, + Asking--What is death? + + + + + A CHILD'S PITY + + + No sweeter thing than children's ways and wiles, + Surely, we say, can gladden eyes and ears: + Yet sometime sweeter than their words or smiles + Are even their tears. + + To one for once a piteous tale was read, + How, when the murderous mother crocodile + Was slain, her fierce brood famished, and lay dead, + Starved, by the Nile. + + In vast green reed-beds on the vast grey slime + Those monsters motherless and helpless lay, + Perishing only for the parent's crime + Whose seed were they. + + Hours after, toward the dusk, our blithe small bird + Of Paradise, who has our hearts in keeping, + Was heard or seen, but hardly seen or heard, + For pity weeping. + + He was so sorry, sitting still apart, + For the poor little crocodiles, he said. + Six years had given him, for an angel's heart, + A child's instead. + + Feigned tears the false beasts shed for murderous ends, + We know from travellers' tales of crocodiles: + But these tears wept upon them of my friend's + Outshine his smiles. + + What heavenliest angels of what heavenly city + Could match the heavenly heart in children here? + The heart that hallowing all things with its pity + Casts out all fear? + + So lovely, so divine, so dear their laughter + Seems to us, we know not what could be more dear: + But lovelier yet we see the sign thereafter + Of such a tear. + + With sense of love half laughing and half weeping + We met your tears, our small sweet-spirited friend: + Let your love have us in its heavenly keeping + To life's last end. + + + + + A CHILD'S LAUGHTER + + + All the bells of heaven may ring, + All the birds of heaven may sing, + All the wells on earth may spring, + All the winds on earth may bring + All sweet sounds together; + Sweeter far than all things heard, + Hand of harper, tone of bird, + Sound of woods at sundawn stirred, + Welling water's winsome word, + Wind in warm wan weather, + + One thing yet there is, that none + Hearing ere its chime be done + Knows not well the sweetest one + Heard of man beneath the sun, + Hoped in heaven hereafter; + Soft and strong and loud and light, + Very sound of very light + Heard from morning's rosiest height, + When the soul of all delight + Fills a child's clear laughter. + + Golden bells of welcome rolled + Never forth such notes, nor told + Hours so blithe in tones so bold, + As the radiant mouth of gold + Here that rings forth heaven. + If the golden-crested wren + Were a nightingale--why, then, + Something seen and heard of men + Might be half as sweet as when + Laughs a child of seven. + + + + + A CHILD'S THANKS + + + How low soe'er men rank us, + How high soe'er we win, + The children far above us + Dwell, and they deign to love us, + With lovelier love than ours, + And smiles more sweet than flowers; + As though the sun should thank us + For letting light come in. + + With too divine complaisance, + Whose grace misleads them thus, + Being gods, in heavenly blindness + They call our worship kindness, + Our pebble-gift a gem: + They think us good to them, + Whose glance, whose breath, whose presence, + Are gifts too good for us. + + The poet high and hoary + Of meres that mountains bind + Felt his great heart more often + Yearn, and its proud strength soften + From stern to tenderer mood, + At thought of gratitude + Shown than of song or story + He heard of hearts unkind. + + But with what words for token + And what adoring tears + Of reverence risen to passion, + In what glad prostrate fashion + Of spirit and soul subdued, + May man show gratitude + For thanks of children spoken + That hover in his ears? + + The angels laugh, your brothers, + Child, hearing you thank me, + With eyes whence night grows sunny, + And touch of lips like honey, + And words like honey-dew: + But how shall I thank you? + For gifts above all others + What guerdon-gift may be? + + What wealth of words caressing, + What choice of songs found best, + Would seem not as derision, + Found vain beside the vision + And glory from above + Shown in a child's heart's love? + His part in life is blessing; + Ours, only to be blest. + + + + + A CHILD'S BATTLES + + +pyx aretan heuron+.--PINDAR. + + + Praise of the knights of old + May sleep: their tale is told, + And no man cares: + The praise which fires our lips is + A knight's whose fame eclipses + All of theirs. + + The ruddiest light in heaven + Blazed as his birth-star seven + Long years ago: + All glory crown that old year + Which brought our stout small soldier + With the snow! + + Each baby born has one + Star, for his friends a sun, + The first of stars: + And we, the more we scan it, + The more grow sure your planet, + Child, was Mars. + + For each one flower, perchance, + Blooms as his cognizance: + The snowdrop chill, + The violet unbeholden, + For some: for you the golden + Daffodil. + + Erect, a fighting flower, + It breasts the breeziest hour + That ever blew. + And bent or broke things brittle + Or frail, unlike a little + Knight like you. + + Its flower is firm and fresh + And stout like sturdiest flesh + Of children: all + The strenuous blast that parches + Spring hurts it not till March is + Near his fall. + + If winds that prate and fret + Remark, rebuke, regret, + Lament, or blame + The brave plant's martial passion, + It keeps its own free fashion + All the same. + + We that would fain seem wise + Assume grave mouths and eyes + Whose looks reprove + Too much delight in battle: + But your great heart our prattle + Cannot move. + + We say, small children should + Be placid, mildly good + And blandly meek: + Whereat the broad smile rushes + Full on your lips, and flushes + All your cheek. + + If all the stars that are + Laughed out, and every star + Could here be heard, + Such peals of golden laughter + We should not hear, as after + Such a word. + + For all the storm saith, still, + Stout stands the daffodil: + For all we say, + Howe'er he look demurely, + Our martialist will surely + Have his way. + + We may not bind with bands + Those large and liberal hands, + Nor stay from fight, + Nor hold them back from giving: + No lean mean laws of living + Bind a knight. + + And always here of old + Such gentle hearts and bold + Our land has bred: + How durst her eye rest else on + The glory shed from Nelson + Quick and dead? + + Shame were it, if but one + Such once were born her son, + That one to have borne, + And brought him ne'er a brother: + His praise should bring his mother + Shame and scorn. + + A child high-souled as he + Whose manhood shook the sea + Smiles haply here: + His face, where love lies basking, + With bright shut mouth seems asking, + What is fear? + + The sunshine-coloured fists + Beyond his dimpling wrists + Were never closed + For saving or for sparing-- + For only deeds of daring + Predisposed. + + Unclenched, the gracious hands + Let slip their gifts like sands + Made rich with ore + That tongues of beggars ravish + From small stout hands so lavish + Of their store. + + Sweet hardy kindly hands + Like these were his that stands + With heel on gorge + Seen trampling down the dragon + On sign or flask or flagon, + Sweet Saint George. + + Some tournament, perchance, + Of hands that couch no lance, + Might mark this spot + Your lists, if here some pleasant + Small Guenevere were present, + Launcelot. + + My brave bright flower, you need + No foolish song, nor heed + It more than spring + The sighs of winter stricken + Dead when your haunts requicken + Here, my king. + + Yet O, how hardly may + The wheels of singing stay + That whirl along + Bright paths whence echo raises + The phantom of your praises, + Child, my song! + + Beyond all other things + That give my words fleet wings, + Fleet wings and strong, + You set their jesses ringing + Till hardly can I, singing, + Stint my song. + + But all things better, friend, + And worse must find an end: + And, right or wrong, + 'Tis time, lest rhyme should baffle, + I doubt, to put a snaffle + On my song. + + And never may your ear + Aught harsher hear or fear, + Nor wolfish night + Nor dog-toothed winter snarling + Behind your steps, my darling + My delight! + + For all the gifts you give + Me, dear, each day you live, + Of thanks above + All thanks that could be spoken + Take not my song in token, + Take my love. + + + + + A CHILD'S FUTURE + + + What will it please you, my darling, hereafter to be? + Fame upon land will you look for, or glory by sea? + Gallant your life will be always, and all of it free. + + Free as the wind when the heart of the twilight is stirred + Eastward, and sounds from the springs of the sunrise are heard: + Free--and we know not another as infinite word. + + Darkness or twilight or sunlight may compass us round, + Hate may arise up against us, or hope may confound; + Love may forsake us; yet may not the spirit be bound. + + Free in oppression of grief as in ardour of joy + Still may the soul be, and each to her strength as a toy: + Free in the glance of the man as the smile of the boy. + + Freedom alone is the salt and the spirit that gives + Life, and without her is nothing that verily lives: + Death cannot slay her: she laughs upon death and forgives. + + Brightest and hardiest of roses anear and afar + Glitters the blithe little face of you, round as a star: + Liberty bless you and keep you to be as you are. + + England and liberty bless you and keep you to be + Worthy the name of their child and the sight of their sea: + Fear not at all; for a slave, if he fears not, is free. + + + + + SUNRISE + + + If the wind and the sunlight of April and August had mingled the + past and hereafter + In a single adorable season whose life were a rapture of love and + of laughter, + And the blithest of singers were back with a song; if again from + his tomb as from prison, + If again from the night or the twilight of ages Aristophanes had + arisen, + With the gold-feathered wings of a bird that were also a god upon + earth at his shoulders, + And the gold-flowing laugh of the manhood of old at his lips, for a + joy to beholders, + He alone unrebuked of presumption were able to set to some adequate + measure + The delight of our eyes in the dawn that restores them the sun of + their sense and the pleasure. + For the days of the darkness of spirit are over for all of us here, + and the season + When desire was a longing, and absence a thorn, and rejoicing a + word without reason. + For the roof overhead of the pines is astir with delight as of + jubilant voices, + And the floor underfoot of the bracken and heather alive as a heart + that rejoices. + For the house that was childless awhile, and the light of it + darkened, the pulse of it dwindled, + Rings radiant again with a child's bright feet, with the light of + his face is rekindled. + And the ways of the meadows that knew him, the sweep of the down + that the sky's belt closes, + Grow gladder at heart than the soft wind made them whose feet were + but fragrant with roses, + Though the fall of the year be upon us, who trusted in June and by + June were defrauded, + And the summer that brought us not back the desire of our eyes be + gone hence unapplauded. + For July came joyless among us, and August went out from us arid + and sterile, + And the hope of our hearts, as it seemed, was no more than a flower + that the seasons imperil, + And the joy of our hearts, as it seemed, than a thought which + regret had not heart to remember, + Till four dark months overpast were atoned for, and summer began in + September. + Hark, April again as a bird in the house with a child's voice + hither and thither: + See, May in the garden again with a child's face cheering the woods + ere they wither. + June laughs in the light of his eyes, and July on the sunbright + cheeks of him slumbers, + And August glows in a smile more sweet than the cadence of + gold-mouthed numbers. + In the morning the sight of him brightens the sun, and the noon + with delight in him flushes, + And the silence of nightfall is music about him as soft as the + sleep that it hushes. + We awake with a sense of a sunrise that is not a gift of the + sundawn's giving, + And a voice that salutes us is sweeter than all sounds else in the + world of the living, + And a presence that warms us is brighter than all in the world of + our visions beholden, + Though the dreams of our sleep were as those that the light of a + world without grief makes golden. + For the best that the best of us ever devised as a likeness of + heaven and its glory, + What was it of old, or what is it and will be for ever, in song or + in story, + Or in shape or in colour of carven or painted resemblance, adored + of all ages, + But a vision recorded of children alive in the pictures of old or + the pages? + Where children are not, heaven is not, and heaven if they come not + again shall be never: + But the face and the voice of a child are assurance of heaven and + its promise for ever. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Studies in Song, A Century of +Roundels, Sonnets on English Dramatic Poets, The Heptalogia, Etc, by Algernon Charles Swinburne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STUDIES IN SONG *** + +***** This file should be named 18782.txt or 18782.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/7/8/18782/ + +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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