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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/27971-8.txt b/27971-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..af09311 --- /dev/null +++ b/27971-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3151 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Lover's Litanies, by Eric Mackay + +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: A Lover's Litanies + +Author: Eric Mackay + +Release Date: February 3, 2009 [EBook #27971] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LOVER'S LITANIES *** + + + + +Produced by K Nordquist, David T. Jones and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + +A +Lover's Litanies + +_BY_ + +Eric Mackay + + + + +A +Lover's Litanies + +_BY_ + +Eric Mackay + +_Author of "Love Letters of a Violinist," and +"Gladys the Singer."_ + + + +1888. + +_LONDON:_ + +_Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C. +Simpkin, Marshall & Co.; Hamilton, Adams & Co._ + +_New York: Scribner & Welford, 743 & 745, Broadway._ + + + +[Illustration: logo] + +THE LEADENHALL PRESS, +LONDON, E.C. + +T 4,258. + + +[Illustration: Ave Maria!] + + + + +Contents. + + PAGE + +First Litany--Virgo Dulcis 11 + +Second Litany--Vox Amoris 25 + +Third Litany--Ad Te Clamavi 39 + +Fourth Litany--Gratia Plena 53 + +Fifth Litany--Salve Regina 67 + +Sixth Litany--Benedicta Tu 81 + +Seventh Litany--Stella Matutina 95 + +Eighth Litany--Domina Exaudi 109 + +Ninth Litany--Lilium inter Spinas 123 + +Tenth Litany--Gloria in Excelsis 137 + + +[Illustration] + + + + +First Litany. + +VIRGO DULCIS. + + +First Litany. + +Virgo Dulcis. + + +i. + +O thou refulgent essence of all grace! + O thou that with the witchery of thy face +Hast made of me thy servant unto death, +I pray thee pause, ere, musical of breath, +And rapt of utterance, thou condemn indeed +My venturous wooing, and the wanton speed + With which I greet thee, dear and tender soul! +From out the fullness of my passion-creed. + + +ii. + +I am so truly thine that nevermore + Shall man be found, this side the Stygian shore, +So meek as I, so patient under blame, +And yet, withal, so minded to proclaim +His life-long ardour. For my theme is just: +A heart enslaved, a smile, a broken trust, + A soft mirage, a glimpse of fairyland, +And then the wreck thereof in tears and dust. + + +iii. + +Thou wast not made for murder, yet a glance + May murderous prove; and beauty may entrance, +More than a syren's or a serpent's eye. +And there are moments when a smother'd sigh +May hint at comfort and a murmur'd "No" +Give signs of "Yes," and Misery's overflow + Make tears more precious than we care to tell, +Though, one by one, our hopes we must forego. + + +iv. + +I should have shunn'd thee as a man may shun + His evil hour. I should have curst the sun +That made the day so bright and earth so fair +When first we met, delirium through the air +Burning like fire! I should have curst the moon +And all the stars that, dream-like, in a swoon + Shut out the day,--the lov'd, the lovely day +That came too late and left us all too soon. + + +v. + +I look'd at thee, and lo! from face to feet, + I saw my tyrant, and I felt the beat +Of my quick pulse. I knew thee for a queen +And bow'd submissive; and the smile serene +Of thy sweet face reveal'd the soul of thee. +For I was wounded as a man may be + Whom Eros tricks with words he will not prove; +And all my peace of mind went out from me. + + +vi. + +Oh, why didst cheer me with the thought of bliss, + And wouldst not pay me back my luckless kiss? +I sought thy side. I gave thee of my store +One wild salute. A flame was at the core +Of that first kiss; and on my mouth I feel +The glow thereof, the pressure and the seal, + As if thy nature, when the deed was done, +Had leapt to mine in lightning-like appeal. + + +vii. + +If debts were paid in full I might require + More than my kiss. I might, in time, aspire +To some new bond, or re-enact the first. +For once, thou know'st, the love for which I thirst, +The love for which I hunger'd in thy sight, +Was not withheld. I deem'd thee, day and night, + Mine own true mate, and sent thee token flowers +To figure forth the hopes I'd fain indite. + + +viii. + +Is this not so? Canst thou detend, in truth, + The sunlike smile with which, in flush of youth, +Thou didst accept my greeting,--though so late,-- +My love-lorn homage when the voice of Fate +Fell from thy lips, and made me twice a man +Because half thine, in that betrothal-plan + Whereof I spake, not knowing how 'twould be +When May had marr'd the prospects it began? + + +ix. + +Can'st thou deny that, early in the spring, + When daisies droop'd, and birds were fain to sing, +We met, and talk'd, and walk'd, and were content +In sunlit paths? An hour and more we spent +In Keats's Grove. We linger'd near the stem +Of that lone tree on which was seen the gem + Of his bright name, there carven by himself; +And then I stoop'd and kiss'd thy garment's hem. + + +x. + +I gave thee all my life. I gave thee there, + In that wild hour, the great Creator's share +Of mine existence; and I turn'd to thee +As men to idols, madly on my knee; +And then uplifted by those arms of thine, +I sat beside thee, warm'd with other wine + Than vintage balm; and, mindful of thy blush, +I guess'd a thought which words will not define. + + +xi. + +I told thee stories of the days of joy + When earth was young, and love without alloy +Made all things glad and all the thoughts of things. +And like a man who wonders when he sings, +And knows not whence the power that in him lies, +I made a madrigal of all my sighs + And bade thee heed them; and I join'd therewith +The texts of these my follies that I prize. + + +xii. + +I spoke of men, long dead, who wooed in vain + And yet were happy,--men whose tender pain +Was fraught with fervor, as the night with stars. +And then I spoke of heroes' battle-scars +And lordly souls who rode from land to land +To win the love-touch of a lady's hand; + And on the strings of thy low-murmuring lute +I struck the chords that all men understand. + + +xiii. + +I sang to thee. I praised thee with my praise, + E'en as a bird, conceal'd in sylvan ways, +May laud the rose, and wish, from hour to hour, +That he had petals like the empress-flower, +And there could grow, unwing'd, and be a bud, +With all his warblings ta'en at singing-flood + And turned to vàgaries of the wildest scent +To undermine the meekness in her blood. + + +xiv. + +Ah, those were days! That April should have been + My last on earth, and, ere the frondage green +Had changed to gold, I should have join'd the ranks +Of dull dead men who lived for little thanks +And made the most thereof, though penance-bound. +I should have known that in the daily round + Of mine existence, there are griefs to spare, +But joys, alas! too few on any ground. + + +xv. + +And here I stand to-day with bended head, + My task undone, my garden overspread +With baneful weeds. Am I the lord thereof? +Or mine own slave, without the power to doff +My misery's badge? Am I so weak withal, +That I must loiter, though the bugle's call + Shrills o'er the moor, the far-off weltering moor, +Where foemen meet to vanquish or to fall? + + +xvi. + +Am I so blurr'd in soul, so out of health, + That I must turn to thee, as if by stealth, +And fear thy censure, fear thy quick rebuff, +And thou so gentle in a world so rough +That God's high priest, the morn-apparell'd sun +Ne'er saw thy like! Am I indeed undone + Of life and love and all? and must I weep +For joys that quit me, and for sands that run? + + +xvii. + +To-morrow's dawn will break; but Yesterday, + Where is its light? And where the breezes' play +That sway'd the flowers? A bird will sing again, +But not so well. The wind upon the plain, +The wintry wind, will toss the groaning trees; +But I, what comfort shall I have of these, + To know that they, unlov'd, have lost the Spring, +As I thy favour and my power to please? + + +xviii. + +I should have learnt a lesson from the songs + Of woodland birds discoursing on the wrongs +Of madcap moths and bachelor butterflies. +I should have caught the cadence of the sighs +Of unwed flowers, and learnt the way to woo, +Which all things know but I, beneath the blue + Of Heaven's great dome; for, undesired of thee, +I have but jarr'd the notes that seem'd so true. + + +xix. + +I should have told thee all I meant to tell, + And how, at Lammas-tide, a wedding-bell +Rang through my sleep, mine own as well as thine; +And how I led thee, smiling, to a shrine +And there endow'd thee with the name I bear; +And how I woke to find the morning-air + Flooded with light. I should have told thee this +And not conceal'd the theme of my long prayer. + + +xx. + +But I was timid. Oh, my love was such + I scarce could name it! Trembling over-much +With too much ardour, I was moved at length +To mere mad utterance. In a blameful strength +I seiz'd thy hand, to scare thee, as of old +Dryads were scared; and calm and icy-cold + Thine answer came: "I pray thee, vex me not!" +And all that day 'twas winter on the wold. + + +[Illustration: cherub] + + + + +Second Litany. + +_VOX AMORIS_. + + +Second Litany. + +Vox Amorís.[1] + + +i. + +Vouchsafe, my Lady! by the passion-flower, + And by the glamour of a moonlit hour, +And by the cries and sighs of all the birds +That sing o'nights, to heed again the words +Of my poor pleading! For I swear to thee +My love is deeper than the bounding sea, + And more conclusive than a wedding-bell, +And freer-voiced than winds upon the lea. + +[Footnote 1: This Litany was introduced in the Author's "Gladys the +Singer," published by Messrs. Reeves & Turner, London, 1887.] + + +ii. + +In all the world, from east unto the west, + There is no vantage-ground, and little rest, +And no content for me from dawn to dark, +From set of sun to song-time of the lark, +And yet, withal, there is no man alive +Who for a goodly cause to make it thrive, + Would do such deeds as I would gird me to +Could I but win the pearl for which I dive. + + +iii. + +It is thy love which, downward in the deep + Of far-off visions, I behold in sleep,-- +It is thy pearl of love which in the night +Doth tempt my soul to hopes I dare not write,-- +It is this gem for which, had I a crown, +I'd barter peace and pomp, and ermined gown; + It is thy troth, thou paragon of maids! +For which I'd sell the joys of all renown. + + +iv. + +I would attack a panther in its den + To do thee service as thy man of men, +Or front the Fates, or, like a ghoul, confer +With staring ghosts outside a sepulchre. +I would forego a limb to give thee life, +Or yield my soul itself in any strife, + In any coil of doubt, in any spot +When Death and Danger meet as man and wife. + + +v. + +It is my solace, all my nights and days, + To pray for thee and dote on thee always, +And evermore to count myself a king +Because I earn'd thy favour in the spring. +Oh, smile on me and call me to thy side, +And I will kneel to thee, as to a bride, + And yet adore thee as a saint in Heaven +By God ordained, by good men glorified! + + +vi. + +I will acquaint thee with mine inmost thought + And teach thee all I know, though unbesought, +And make thee prouder of a poet's dream +Than wealthy men are proud of what they seem. +If thou have trust therein, if thou require +Service of me, or song, or penance dire, + I will obey thee as thy belted knight, +Or die to satisfy thy heart's desire. + + +vii. + +Ah! thou hast that in store which none can give, + None but thyself, and I am fain to live +To watch the outcome of so fair a gift,-- +To see the bright good morrow loom and lift, +And know that thou,--unpeer'd beneath the moon,-- +Untamed of men,--untutor'd to the tune + Of lip with lip,--wilt cease thy coy disdain +And learn the languors of the loves of June. + + +viii. + +All that I am, and all I hope to be, + Is thine till death; and though I die for thee +Each day I live; and though I throb and thrill +At thoughts that seem to burn me, and to chill, +In my dark hours, I revel in the same; +Yet I am free of hope, as thou of blame, + And all around me, wakeful and in sleep, +I weave a blessing for thy soul to claim. + + +ix. + +Oh, by thy radiant hair and by the glow + Of thy full eyes,--and by thy breast of snow,-- +And by the buds thereof that have the flush +Of infant roses when they strive to blush,-- +And by thy voice, melodious as a bell +That rings for prayer in God's high citadel,-- + By all these things, and more than I can urge, +I charge thee, Sweet! to let me out of hell! + + +x. + +Is it not Hell to live so far away + And not to touch thee,--not by night or day +To be partaker of one smile of thine, +Or one commingling of thy breath and mine, +Or one encounter of thine amorous mouth? +I dwell apart from thee, as north from south, + As east from western ways I dwell apart, +And taste the tears that quench not any drouth. + + +xi. + +Why wouldst thou take the memory of a wrong + To be thy shadow all the summer long, +A thing to chide thee at the dead of night, +A thing to wake thee with the morning light +For self-upbraiding, while the wanton bird +Invests the welkin? Ah, by joy deferr'd, + By peace withheld from me,--do thou relent +And dower my life to-day with one love-word! + + +xii. + +Wouldst thou, Cassandra-wise, oppress my soul + With more unrest, and Hebè-like, the bowl +Of festal comfort for a moment raise +To my poor lips, and then avert thy gaze? +Wouldst make me mad beyond the daily curse +Of thy displeasure, and in wrath disperse + That halcyon draught, that nectar of the mind, +Which is the theme I yearn to in my verse? + + +xiii. + +Oh, by thy pity when so slight a thing + As some small bird is wounded in the wing, +Avert thy scorn, and grant me, from afar, +At least the right to love thee as a star,-- +The right to turn to thee, the right to bow +To thy pure name and evermore, as now, + To own thy thraldom and to sing thereon, +In proud allegiance to mine earliest vow. + + +xiv. + +It were abuse of power to frown again + When, all day long, I gloat upon the pain +Of pent-up hope, my joy and my distress,-- +While the remembrance of a mute caress +Given to a rose,--a rose I pluck'd for thee,-- +Seems as the withering of the world to me, + Because I am unlov'd of thee to-day +And undesired as sea-weeds in the sea. + + +xv. + +I'll not believe that eyes so bright as thine + Were meant for malice in the summer-shine, +Or that a glance thereof, though changed to fire, +Could injure one whose spirit, like a lyre, +Has throbb'd to music of remember'd joys,-- +The pride thereof, and all the tender poise + Of trust with trust,--the symphonies of grief +Made all mine own,--and Faith which never cloys. + + +xvi. + +How can it be that one so fair as thou + Should wear contention on a whiter brow +Than May-day Dian's in her hunting gear? +I'll not believe that eyes so holy-clear +And mouth so constant to its morning prayer +Could mock the mischief of a man's despair + And all the misery of a moment's hope +Seen far away, as mists are seen in air. + + +xvii. + +How can a woman's heart be made of stone + And she not know it? Mine is overthrown. +I have no heart to-day, no perfect one, +Only a thing that sighs at set of sun +And beats its cage, as if the thrall thereof +Were freedom's prison or the tomb of love; + As if, God help me! there were shame in truth +And no salvation left in realms above. + + +xviii. + +I once could laugh, I once was deem'd a man + Fit for the frenzies of the dead god Pan, +And now, by Heaven! the birds that sing so well +Move me to tears; and all the leafy dell, +And all the sun-down glories of the West, +And all the moorland which the moon has blest, + Make me a dreamer, aye! a coward, too, +In all the weird expanse of mine unrest. + + +xix. + +It is my curse to see thee and to learn + That I must shun thee, though I blaze and burn +With all this longing, all this fierce delight +Fear-fraught and famish'd for a suitor's right; +A right conceded for a moment's space +And then withdrawn as, amorous face to face, + I dared to clasp thee and to urge a troth +Too sovereign-sweet for one of Adam's race. + + +xx. + +I am a doom-entangled mirthless soul, + Without the power to rid me of the dole +Which, day by day, and nightly evermore +Corrodes my peace! Oh, smile, as once before, +At each wild thought and each discarded plea, +And let thy sentence, let thy suffrance be + That I be reckon'd till the day I die +The sad-eyed Singer of thy fame and thee! + + +[Illustration: cherub] + + + + +Third Litany. + +_AD TE CLAMAVI._ + + +Third Litany. + +Ad Te Clamavi. + + +i. + +Again, O Love! again I make lament, + And, Arab-like, I pitch my summer-tent +Outside the gateways of the Lord of Song. +I weep and wait, contented all day long +To be the proud possessor of a grief. +It comforts me. It gives me more relief + Than pleasures give; and, spirit-like in air, +It re-invokes the peace that was so brief. + + +ii. + +It speaks of thee. It keeps me from the lake + Which else might tempt me; and for thy sweet sake +I shun all evil. I am calmer now +Than when I wooed thee, calmer than the vow +Which made me thine, and yet so fond withal +I start and tremble at the wind's footfall. + Is it the wind? Or is it mine own past +Come back to life to lure me to its thrall? + + +iii. + +I long to rise and seek thee where thou art + And draw thee amorous to my wakeful heart +That beats for thee alone, in vague unrest. +I long to front thee when thou'rt lily-dress'd +In white attire,--e'en like the flowers of old +That Jesus praised; and, though the thought be bold, + I'm fain to kiss thee, Sweetheart! through thy hair +And hide my face awhile in all that gold. + + +iv. + +I will not say what more might then be done, + And how, by moonlight or beneath the sun, +We might be happy. In a reckless mood +I've talk'd of this; and dreams and many a brood +Of tongue-tied fancies have my soul beset. +I will not hint at fealty or the fret + Of lips untrue, or anger thee therein, +Or call to mind one word thou wouldst forget. + + +v. + +I should withhold my raptures were I wise, + I should not vex thee with my many sighs, +Or claim one tear from thee, though 'tis my due. +I should be silent. I should cease to sue! +Sorrow should teach me what I fail'd to learn +In days gone by; and cross'd at every turn + By some new doubt, new-born of my desires, +I should suppress the pangs with which I burn. + + +vi. + +I am an outcast from the land of love + And thou the Queen thereof, as white as dove +New-sped from Heaven, and fine and fair to see +As coy Queen Mab when, out upon the lea, +She met her master and was lov'd of him. +Thou art allied to long-hair'd cherubim, + And I a something undesired of these, +With woesome lips and eyes for ever dim. + + +vii. + +I was ordain'd thy minstrel, but alas! + I dare not greet thee when I see thee pass; +I scarce, indeed, may hope at any time, +To work my will, or triumph in a rhyme +To do thee honour; no, nor make amends +For unsought fervor, in the tangled ends + Of my despair. How sad, how dark to me +All things have grown since thou and I were friends! + + +viii. + +It is the fault of thy despotic glance, + It is the memory of a day's romance +When, true to thee, though taunted for my truth, +I dared to solemnise the joys of youth +In one wild chant. It is thy fault, I say! +Thy piteous fault that, on the verge of May, + I lost the right to live, as heretofore, +Untouched by doubt from day to brightening day. + + +ix. + +O Summer's Pride! I loved thee from the first, + And, like a martyr, I was blest and curst, +And saved and slain, and crown'd and made anew, +A grief-glad man, with yearnings not a few, +But no just hope to win so fair a troth. +I should have known how one may weep for both + When lovers part, poor souls! beneath the moon, +And how Remembrance may outlive an oath. + + +x. + +The nymphs, I think, were like thee in the glade + Of that Greek valley where the wine was made +For feasts of Bacchus; for I dream at night +Of those creations, kind and calm and bright; +And in my thought, unhallow'd though it be, +The sun-born Muses turn their gaze on me, + And seem to know me as a friend of theirs, +Though all unfit to serve them on my knee. + + +xi. + +They lived and sang. They died as visions die, + Supreme, eternal, offshoots of the sky, +Made and re-made, undraped and draped afresh, +To glad the earth like phantoms made of flesh, +And yet as mistlike as delusions are! +They stood beside Achilles in his car; + They knew the gods and all their joysome deeds, +And all the chants that sprang from star to star. + + +xii. + +The myths of Greece, the maidens of the grove, + The dear dead fancies of the days of Jove, +Why were they bann'd? Oh, why in Reason's name, +Were they abolished? They were good to claim, +And good to dream of, and to crown with bays, +Far-seen of men, far-shining in the haze + Of withering doubts. They were the world's elect, +As thou art mine, to bow to and to praise. + + +xiii. + +Night after night I see thee, in my dreams, + As fair as Daphne, with the morning beams +Of thy bright locks about thee like a cloak,-- +Fair as the young Aurora when she woke +At Phæthon's call, athwart the mountain-heights. +I see thee radiant in the summer nights, + And, bosom-pack'd with frenzies unrepress'd, +I thrill to thee in Slumber's soft delights. + + +xiv. + +I see thee pout. I see thee in disdain + Look out, reluctant, through the falling rain +Of thy long hair. I feel thee close at hand. +I note thy breathing as I loose the band +That binds thy waist, and then to waking life +I backward start! Despair is Sorrow's wife; + And I am Sorrow, and Despair's mine own, +To lure me on to madness or to strife. + + +xv. + +My sex offends thee, or the thought of this; + For I did fright thee when I fleck'd a kiss +With too much heat. I should have bow'd to thee, +And left unsaid the word, deception-free, +Which, like a flash, illumed the love within, +My wilfulness was much to blame therein; + But thou wilt shrive me, Sweet! of mine offence +If passion-pangs be deem'd so dark a sin. + + +xvi. + +Oh, give me back my soul that with the same + I may achieve a deed of poet-fame, +Or die belauded on the battle-field! +There's much to seek. My hand is strong to wield +Weapon or pen. If thou consent thereto +Deeds may be done. If not, thine eyes are blue + And Heaven is there,--a two-fold tender shrine +Whose wrath I fear, whose judgment still I rue! + + +xvii. + +I am but half myself. The life in me + Is nigh crush'd out; and, though I seem to see +Glory, and grace, and joy, as in the past, +They are but shadows on the cozening blast, +And dreams of devils and distorted things, +And snakes coiled up that look like wedding rings, + And faded flowers that once were fit for wreaths +In bygone summers and in perish'd springs. + + +xviii. + +There is a curse in every garden place, + And when, at night, the lily's holy face +Looks up to God, it seems to chide me there. +The very sun with all his golden hair +Is ill at ease, and birth and death of day +Bring no relief; and darkly on my way + My memory comes,--the ghost of my Delight,-- +To fret and fume at woes it cannot slay. + + +xix. + +Oh, bid me smile again, as in the time + When all the breezes seem'd to make a chime, +And all the birds on all the woodland slopes +Had trills for me, and seem'd to guess the hopes +That warm'd my heart. O thou whom I adore! +How proud were I,--though wounded bitter-sore + By shafts of doubt,--if, in default of love +I could but win thy friendship as of yore. + + +xx. + +Then were I blest indeed, and crown'd of fate + As kings are crowned, as bards in their estate +Are rapture-fraught, re-risen above the dust. +Then were I torture-proof, and on the crust +Of one kind word, though as a pittance thrown, +I'd live for weeks! My tears I would disown + And pray, contented with my discontent, +As hermits pray when storms are overblown. + + +[Illustration: cherub] + + + + +Fourth Litany. + +_GRATIA PLENA_. + + +Fourth Litany. + +Gratia Plena. + + +i. + +Oh, smile on me, thou syren of my soul! + That I may curb my thoughts to some control +And not offend thee, as in truth I do, +Morning, and noon and night, when I pursue +My vagrant fancies, unallow'd of thee, +But fraught with such consolement unto me + As may be felt in homeward-sailing ships +When wind and wave contend upon the sea. + + +ii. + +Dower me with patience and imbue me still + With some reminder, when the night is chill, +Of thy dear presence, as, in winter-time, +The maiden moon, that tenderly doth climb +The lofty heavens, hath yet a beam to spare +For doleful wretches in their dungeon-lair; + E'en thus endow me in my chamber dim +With some reminder of thy face so fair! + + +iii. + +Quit thou thy body while thou sleepest well + And visit mine at midnight, by the spell +That knows not shame. For in the House of Sleep +All things are pure; and in the silence deep +I'll wait for thee, and thou, contrition-wise, +Wilt seek my couch and this that on it lies, + This frame of mine that lives for thee alone +As palmers live for peace that never dies. + + +iv. + +It were a goodly thing to spare a foe + And kill his hate. And I would e'en do so! +For I would kill the coyness of thy face. +I would enfold thee in my spurn'd embrace +And kiss the kiss that gladdens as with wine. +Yea, I would wrestle with those arms of thine, + And, like a victor, I would vanquish thee, +And, tyrant-like, I'd teach thee to be mine. + + +v. + +For, what is peace that we should cling thereto + If war be wisest? If the death we woo +Be fraught with fervor there's delight in death! +There is persuasion in the tempest's breath +Not known in calm; and raptures round us flow +When, like an arrow through the bended bow + Of two fond lips, the quivering dart of love +Brings down the kiss which saints shall not bestow. + + +vi. + +The soldier dies for country and for kin; + He dies for fame that is so sweet to win; +And, part for duty, part for battle-doom, +He wends his way to where the myrtles bloom; +He gains a grave, perchance a recompense +Beyond his seeking, and a restful sense + Of soul-completion, far from any strife, +And far from memory of his land's defence. + + +vii. + +Be this my meed,--to die for love of thee, + As when the sun goes down upon the sea +And finds no mate in all the realms of earth. +I, too, have look'd on Nature in its worth +And found no resting-place in all the spheres, +And no relief beyond my sonnet-tears,-- + The soul-fed shudderings of my lonely harp +That knows the gamut now of all my fears. + + +viii. + +I wear thy colours till the day I die: + A glove, a ribbon, and a rose thereby, +All join'd in one. I revel in these things; +For, once an angel, unarray'd in wings, +Came to my side, and beam'd on me, and said: +"I love thee, friend!" and then, with lifted head, + Gave me a rose on which the dew had fallen; +And, like the flower, she blush'd a virgin-red. + + +ix. + +I found the glove down yonder in the dale. + I knew 'twas thine; its color, creamy-pale, +Fill'd me with joy. "A prize!" I cried aloud, +And snatch'd it up, as zealous then, and proud, +As one who wins a knighthood in his youth; +And I was moved thereat, in very sooth, + And kiss'd it oft, and call'd on kindly Heaven +To be the sponsor of mine amorous truth. + + +x. + +I Earn'd the ribbon as we earn a smile + For service done. I help'd thee at the stile; +And so 'twas mine, my trophy, as of right. +Oh, never yet was ribbon half so bright! +It seem'd of sky-descent,--a strip of morn +Thrown on the sod,--a something summer-worn + To be my guerdon; and, enriched therewith, +I follow'd thee, thy suitor, through the corn. + + +xi. + +I trod on air. I seem'd to hear the sound + Of fifes and trumpets and the quick rebound +Of bells unseen,--the storming of a tower +By imps audacious, and the sovereign power +Of some arch-fairy, thine acquaintance sure +In days gone by; for, all the land was pure, + As if new-blest,--the land and all the sea +And all the welkin where the stars endure. + + +xii. + +We journey'd on through fields that were a-glow + With cowslip buds and daisies white as snow; +And, hand in hand, we stood beside a shrine +At which a bard whom lovers deem divine, +Laid down his life; and, as we gazed at this, +There seem'd to issue from the wood's abyss + A sound of trills, as if, in its wild way, +A nightingale were pondering on a kiss. + + +xiii. + +A lane was reached that led I know not where, + Unless to Heaven,--for Heaven was surely there +And thou so near it! And within a nook +A-down whose covertness a noisy brook +Did talk of peace, I learnt of thee my fate; +The word of pity that was kin to hate,-- + The voice of reason that was reason's foe +Because it spurn'd the love that was so great! + + +xiv. + +But I must pause. I must, from day to day, + Keep back my tears, and seek a surer way +Than Memory's track. I must, with lifted eyes, +Re-shape my life, and heed the battle-cries +Of prompt ambition, and be braced at call +To do such deeds as haply may befall, + If, freed of thee, and charter'd to myself, +I may undo the bonds that now enthrall. + + +xv. + +Shall I do this? I shall; and thou shalt see + Signs of rebellion. I will turn to thee +And claim obedience. I will make it plain +How many a link may go to form a chain, +And each a circlet, each a ring to wear. +I will extract the sting from my despair + And toy therewith, as with a charmèd snake, +That, Lamia-like, uprears itself in air. + + +xvi. + +Or is my boast a vain, an empty one, + And shall I rue it ere the day is done? +Will hope revive betimes? Or must I stand +For evermore outside the fairyland +Of thy good will? Alas! my place is here, +To muse and moan and sigh and shed my tear, + My paltry tear for one who loves me not, +And would not mourn for me on my death-bier. + + +xvii. + +Oh, get thee hence, thou harbinger of light! + That, like a dream, dost come to me at night +To haunt my sleep, and rob me of content, +So true-untrue, so deaf to my lament, +I must forego the pride I felt therein. +Aye, get thee hence! And I will crush the sin, + If sin it be, that prompts me, night and day, +To seek in thee the bliss I cannot win. + + +xviii. + +Or, if thou needs must haunt me after dark, + Come when I wake. The oriole and the lark +Are friends of thine; and oft, I know, the thrush +Has trill'd of thee at morn and even-blush. +And flowers have made confessions unto me +At which I marvel; for they rail at thee + And call thee heartless in thy seemlihood, +Though queen-elect of all the flowers that be. + + +xix. + +Nay, heed me not! I rave; I am possess'd + By utmost longing. I am sore oppress'd +By thoughts of woe; and in my heart I feel +A something keener than the touch of steel, +As if, to-day, a danger unforeseen +Had track'd thy path,--as if my prayers had been + Misjudged in Heaven, or drown'd in demon-shouts +Beyond the boundaries of the coasts terrene. + + +xx. + +But this is clear; this much at least is true: + I am thine own! I doat upon the blue +Of thy kind eyes, well knowing that in these +Are proofs of God; and down upon my knees +I fall subservient, as a man in shame +May own a fault; albeit, as with a flame, + I burn all day, abash'd and unforgiven, +And all unfit to touch the hand I claim! + + +[Illustration: cherub] + + + + +Fifth Litany. + +_SALVE REGINA_. + + +Fifth Litany. + +Salve Regina. + + +i. + +Glory to thee, my Queen! whom far away + My thoughts aspire to,--as the birds of May +Aspire o' mornings,--as in lonely nooks +The gurgling murmurs of neglected brooks +Aspire to moonlight,--aye! as earth aspires +When through the East, alert with wild desires, + The rapturous sun surveys the welkin's height, +And flecks the world with witcheries of his fires. + + +ii. + +Oh, I should curb my grief. I should entone + No plaint to thee; no loss should I bemoan! +I should be patient, I, though full of care, +And not attempt, by bias of a prayer, +To sway thy spirit, or to urge anew +A claim contested. For my days are few; + My days, I think, are few upon the earth +Since I must shun the joys I would pursue. + + +iii. + +I am not worthy of the Heaven I name + When I name thee; and yet to win the same +Is still my dream. I strive as best I can +To live uprightly on the vaunted plan +Of old-world sages. But I strive not well; +And thoughts conflicting which I cannot quell + Make me despondent; and I quake thereat, +As at the shuddering of a doomsday bell. + + +iv. + +To die for thee were more than my desert; + To live for thee to keep thee out of hurt +And, like a slave, to wait upon thy will +Were more than fame. And lo! I nourish still +A sense of calm to feel that thou, at least, +Art sorrow-free and honor'd at the feast + Which Nature spreads for all contented minds; +And that for thee its splendours have increased. + + +v. + +I stand alone. I stand beneath the trees, + I guess their thoughts; I hear them to the breeze +Say tender nothings; and I dream the while +Of thy white arms, and thy remember'd smile, +When, in a spot like this, a year a-gone, +I saw thee stoop to pluck from off the lawn + A wounded bird that peer'd into thy face +As if it took thee for the nymph of dawn! + + +vi. + +Oh, can it be, as friends of thine affirm + That thou'rt a fairy,--that, from term to term, +Month after month, belov'd of all good things, +Thou'rt seen in forests and in meadow rings +Girt for the dance? or like an Oread queen +Array'd for council? For the woods convene + Their dryad forces when the nights are clear, +And nymphs and fawns carouse upon the green. + + +vii. + +The crescent moon, the Argosy of heaven, + Veers for the west across the Pleïads seven, +And, out beyond the ridge of Charles's Wain, +It seems to come to mooring on the main +Of that deep sky, as if awaiting there +An angel-guest with sunlight in her hair, + A seraph's cousin, or the foster-child +Of some centurion of the upper air. + + +viii. + +Is it thy soul? Has Cynthia call'd for thee + In her white boat, to take thee o'er the sea +Where suns and stars and constellations bright +Are isles of glory,--where a seraph's right +Surpasses mine, and makes me seem indeed +A base intruder, with a coward's creed + And not an angel's, though a Christian born +And pledged alwàys to serve thee at thy need? + + +ix. + +Thou'rt sleeping now; and in thy snowy rest,-- + In that seclusion which is like a nest +For blameless human maids beheld of those +Who come from God,--thou hast in thy repose +No thought of me,--no thought of pairing-time. +For thou'rt the sworn opponent of the rhyme + That lovers make in kissing; and anon +My very love will vex thee like a crime. + + +x. + +But day and night, and winter-tide and spring, + Change at thy voice; and when I hear thee sing +I know 'tis May; and when I see thy face +I know 'tis Summer. Thou'rt the youngest Grace, +And all the Muses praise thee evermore. +And there are birds who name thee as they soar; + And some of these,--the best and brightest ones,-- +Have guess'd the pangs that pierce me to the core. + + +xi. + +Thou art the month of May with all its nights + And all its days transfigured in the lights +Of love-lit smiles and glances multiform; +And, like a lark that sings above a storm, +Thy voice o'er-rides the tumult of my mind. +Oh, give me back the peace I strove to find + In my last prayer, and I'll believe that Hope +Will dry anon the tears that make it blind. + + +xii. + +There's none like thee, not one in all the world; + No face so fair, no smile so sweet-impearl'd, +And no such music on the hills and plains +As thy young voice whereof the thrill remains +For hours and hours,--belike to keep alive +The sense of beauty that the flowers may thrive. + Or is't thy wish that birds should fly to thee +Before the days of April's quest arrive? + + +xiii. + +Thou'rt noble-natured; and there's none to stand + So meek as thou, or with so dear a hand +To ward off wrong. For Psyche of the Greeks +Is dead and gone; and Eros with his freaks +Has bow'd to thee, and turn'd aside, for shame, +His useless shaft, not daring to proclaim + His amorous laws, and thou so maiden-coy +Beneath the halo of thy spotless name! + + +xiv. + +But dreams are idle, and I must forget + All that they tend to. I must cease to fret, +Moth as I am, for stars beyond the reach +Of mine up-soaring; and in milder speech +I must invoke thy blessing on the road +That lies before me,--far from thine abode, + And far from all persuasion that again +Thou wilt accept the terms of my love-code. + + +xv. + +O Sweet! forgive me that from day to day + I dream such dreams, and teach me how to sway +My fluttering self, that, in forsaken hours, +I may be valiant, and eschew the powers +Of death and doubt! I need the certitude +Of thine esteem that I may check the feud + Of mine own thoughts that rend and anger me +Because denied the boon for which I sued. + + +xvi. + +Teach me to wait with patience for a word, + And be the sight of thee no more deferr'd +Than one up-rising of the vesper star +That waits on Dian when, supreme, afar, +She eyes the sunset. And of this be sure, +As I'm a man and thou a maid demure, + Thou shalt be ta'en aside and wonder'd at, +Before the gloaming leaves the land obscure. + + +xvii. + +Thou shalt be bow'd to as we bow to saints + In window'd shrines; and, far from all attaints +Of ribald passion, thou, as seemeth good, +Wilt smile serenely in thy virginhood. +Nor shall I know, of mine own poor accord, +Which thing in all the world is best to hoard, + Or which is worst of all the things that slay: +A woman's beauty or a soldier's sword. + + +xviii. + +I grieve in sleep. I pine away at night. + I wake, uncared for, in the morning light; +And, hour by hour, I marvel that for me +The wandering wind should make its minstrelsy +So sweet and calm. I marvel that the sun, +So round and red, with all his hair undone, + Should smile at me and yet begrudge me still +The sight of thee that art my worshipp'd one! + + +xix. + +I count my moments as a cloister'd man + May count his beads; and through the weary span +Of each long day I peer into my heart +For hints of comfort; and I find, in part, +A self-committal, and a glimpse withal +Of some new menace in the rise and fall + Of days and nights that are the test of Time +Though Fate would make a mockery of them all. + + +xx. + +There's a disaster worse than loss of gold, + Worse than remorse, and worse a thousand-fold, +Than pangs of hunger. 'Tis the thirst of love, +The rage and rapture of the ravening dove +We name Desire. Ah, pardon! I offend; +My fervor blinds me to the withering end + Of all good council, and, accurst thereby, +I vaunt anew the faults I cannot mend. + + +[Illustration: cherubs] + + + + +Sixth Litany. + +_BENEDICTA TU_. + + +Sixth Litany. + +Benedicta Tu. + + +i. + +I tell thee Sweet! there lives not on the earth + A love like mine in all the height and girth +And all the vast completion of the sphere. +I should be proud, to-day, to shed a tear +If I could weep. But tears are most denied +When most besought; and joys are sanctified + By joys' undoing in this world of ours +From dusk to dawn and dawn to eventide. + + +ii. + +Wert thou a marble maid and I endow'd + With power to move thee from thy seeming shroud +Of frozen splendour,--all thy whiteness mine +And all the glamour, all the tender shine +Of thy glad eyes,--ah God! if this were so, +And I the loosener, in the summer-glow, + Of thy long tresses! I were licensed then +To gaze, unchidden, on thy limbs of snow. + + +iii. + +I would prepare for thee a holy niche + In some new temple, and with draperies rich, +And flowers and lamps and incense of the best, +I would with something of mine own unrest +Imbue thy blood and prompt thee to be just. +I would endow thee with a fairer trust + Than mere contentment, and a dearer joy +Than mere revulsion from the sins of dust. + + +iv. + +A band of boys, with psaltery and with lyre, + And Cyprian girls, the slaves of thy desire, +Would chant and pray and raise so wild a storm +Of golden notes around thy sculptured form +That saints would hear the chorus up in Heaven, +And intermingle with their holy steven + The sighs of earth, and long for other cares +Than those ordain'd them by the Lord's Eleven. + + +v. + +I would approach thee with a master's tread + And claim thy hand and have the service read +By youthful priests resplendent every one; +And in thy frame the blood of thee would run +As warm and sound as wine of Syracuse. +And all that day the birds would bear the news + In far directions, and the meadow-flowers +Would dream thereof, love-laden, in the dews. + + +vi. + +Then, by magnetic force,--the greatest known + This side the tomb,--I would athwart the stone +Of thy white body, in a trice of time, +Call forth thy soul, and woo thee to the chime +Of tinkling bells, and make thee half afraid, +And half aggrieved, to find thyself array'd + In such enthralment, and in such attire, +In sight of one whose will should not be stay'd. + + +vii. + +And, like Pygmalion, I would claim anon + A bride's submission; and my talk thereon +Would not perplex thee; for the sense of life +Would warm thy heart, and urge thee to the strife +Of lip with lip, and kiss with pulsing kiss, +Which gives the clue to all we know of bliss, + And all we know of heights we long to climb +Beyond the boundaries of the grave's abyss. + + +viii. + +The dear old deeds chivàlrous once again + Would find fulfilment; and the curse of Cain +Which fell on woman, as on men it fell, +Would fly from us, as at a sorcerer's spell, +And leave us wiser than the sophists are +Who love not folly. Night should not debar, + Nor day dissuade us, from those ecstacies +That have Anacreon's fame for guiding-star. + + +ix. + +Aye! thou wouldst kneel and seek in me apace + A transient shelter for thine amorous face +Which then I'd screen; and thou to me wouldst turn +With awe-struck eyes, and cling to me and yearn, +With sighs full tender and a touch of fear. +And, like a bird which knows that spring is near, + And, after spring, the summer of sweet days, +Thou wouldst attune thy love-notes in mine ear. + + +x. + +Or, fraught with feelings near akin to hate, + Thou wouldst denounce me; and, like one elate, +Thou wouldst entwine me in thine arms so white, +As soldier-nymphs, with rapt and raging sight, +Made war with spearsmen in the vales of song, +The vales of Sparta where, for right or wrong, + The gods were potent, and, for beauty's sake, +Upheld the tourneys of the fair and strong. + + +xi. + +I would not seem too wilful in the heat + Of our encounter, or with sighs repeat +Too fierce a vow. I would throughout confess +Thy murderous mirth, thy conquering loveliness, +And then subdue thee! Tears would not avail +Nor prayer, nor praise; and, flush'd the while or pale, + Thou shouldst be mine, my hostage in the night, +Without the option of a moment's bail. + + +xii. + +Thou shouldst be mine! My hopes, from first to last, + Would win their way; and, lithe and love-aghast, +And all unnerv'd, thou wouldst, as in a dream +Entreat my pardon! I would callous seem +To thine out-yearning. I would cast on thee +A questioning look, and then, upon my knee, +I would surrender to that face of thine +Which is the great world's wonder unto me. + + +xiii. + +O Heaven! could this be done, and I fulfil + One half my wish, and curb thee to my will, +I were a prompter and a prouder man +Than earth has known since light-foot lovers ran +For Atalanta, lov'd of men and boys. +I were a kaiser then, a king of joys, + And fit to play with high-begotten pomps +As children play with pebbles or with toys. + + +xiv. + +O Golden Hair! O Gladness of an Hour + Made flesh and blood! O beauteous Human Flower +Too sweet to pluck, and yet, though seeming-cold, +Ordain'd to love! I pray thee, as of old, +Be kind to me. I saw thee yesternight, +And for an instant I was urged to plight + My troth again; for in thy face I saw +What seem'd a smile evoked for my delight. + + +xv. + +Re-grant thy favour! Take me by the hand + And lead me back again to thine own land, +The nook supreme, the sanctum in the glen +Where pixies walk,--unknown to peevish men +And shrew-like women whom no faith uplifts! +Show me the place where Nature keeps the gifts + She most approves, and where the song-birds dwell, +And I'll forego the land of little thrifts. + + +xvi. + +The moon is mother and the sun is sire + Of those young planets which, with infant fire, +Have late been found in regions too remote +For quicklier search; and these, in time, will dote +And whirl and wanton in the realms of space. +For there are comets in the nightly chase + Who see strange things untalk'd of by the bards; +And earth herself has found a trysting-place. + + +xvii. + +And so 'tis clear that sun and moon and stars + Are link'd by love! The marriage-feast of Mars +Was fixt long since. 'Tis Venus whom he weds. +'Tis she alone for whom he gaily treads +His path of splendour; and of Saturn's ring +He knows the symbol, and will have, in spring, + A night-betrothal, near the Southern Cross; +And all the stars will pause thereat and sing. + + +xviii. + +What wonder, then, what wonder if to-day + I, too, assert my right, in roundelay, +To talk of rings and posies and the vows +That wait on marriage? 'Tis the wild carouse +Of soul with soul athwart the sense of touch. +'Tis this uplifts us when, with fever-clutch, + The world would claim us; and our hopes revive +In spite of fears that daunt us over-much. + + +xix. + +Lips may be coy; but eyes are quick, at times, + To note the throbbings that are hot as crimes, +And fond as flutterings of the wings of doves. +For he is blind indeed who, when he loves, +Doubts all he sees:--the flickering of a smile, +The Parthian glance, the nod that, for a while, + Outbids Elysium, and is half a jest, +And half a truth, to tempt us and beguile. + + +xx. + +Thine eyes have told me things I dare not speak; + And I will trust the track they bid me seek, +Yea, though it lead me to the gates of death! +The wind is labouring:--it is out of breath; +Belike for scampering up the hill so fast +To say all's well with thee; and, down the blast, + I seem to hear the sounds of serenades +That swell from out the song-fields of the past. + + +[Illustration: cherubs] + + + + +Seventh Litany. + +STELLA MATUTINA. + + +Seventh Litany. + +Stella Matutina. + + +i. + +Arise, fair Phoebus! and with looks serene + Survey the world which late the orbèd Queen +Did pave with pearl to please enamour'd swains. +Arise! Arise! The Dark is bound in chains, +And thou'rt immortal, and thy throne is here +To sway the seasons, and to make it clear + How much we need thee, O thou silent god! +That art the crown'd controller of the year. + + +ii. + +And while the breezes re-construct for thee + The shimmering clouds; and while, from lea to lea, +The great earth reddens with a maid's delight, +Behold! I bring to thee, as yesternight, +My subject song. Do thou protect apace +My peerless one, my Peri with the face + That is a marvel to the minds of men, +And like a flower for humbleness of grace. + + +iii. + +The earth which loves thee, or I much have err'd, + The glad, green earth which waits, as for a word, +The sound of thee, up-shuddering through the morn, +The restive earth is pleased when Day is born, +And soon will take each separate silent beam +As proof of sex,--exulting in the dream + Of joys to come, and quicken'd and convuls'd, +Year after year, by love's triumphant theme. + + +iv. + +A thousand times the flowers in all the fields + Will bow to thee; and with their little shields +The daisy-folk will muster on the plain. +A thousand songs the birds will sing again, +As sweet to hear as quiverings of a lute; +And she I love will sing, for thy repute, + Full many a song. She sings when she but speaks; +And when she's near the birds should all be mute. + + +v. + +O my Belovèd! from thy curtain'd bed + Arise, rejoice, uplift thy golden head, +And be an instant, while I muse on this, +As nude as statues, and as good to kiss +As dear St. Agnes when she met her death, +Unclad and pure and patient of her breath, + And with the grace of God for wedding-gown, +As many an ancient story witnesseth. + + +vi. + +The bath, the plunge, the combing of the hair, + All this I view,--a sight beyond compare +Since Daphne died in all the varied charms +Of her chaste body,--rounded regal arms, +And shape supreme, too fair for human gaze, +But not too fair to win the mirror's praise + That throbs to see thee in thy déshabille +And loves thee well through all the nights and days. + + +vii. + +I see thee thus in fancy, as in books + A man may see the naïads of the brooks;-- +As one entranced by potions aptly given +May see the angels where they walk in Heaven, +And may not greet them in their high estate. +For who shall guess the riddle wrought of Fate + Till he be dead? And who that lives a span +Shall thwart the Future where it lies in wait? + + +viii. + +And now to-day a word I dare not write + Starts to my lips, as when a baffled knight +Witholds a song which fain he would repeat; +For lo! the sense thereof is passing sweet. +And, like a cup that's full, my heart is fill'd +With new desires and quiverings new-distill'd + From old delights; and all my pulses throb +As at the touch of dreams divinely-will'd. + + +ix. + +Who talks of comfort when he sees thee not + And feels no fragrance of the happy lot +Which violets feel, when call'd upon to lie +On thy white breast? And who with amorous eye +Looks at the dear tomb of the shuddering flowers, +The two-fold tomb where daintily for hours + They droop and muse,--who looks, I say, at these +And will not own the witchery of thy powers? + + +x. + +Who speaks of glory and the force of love, + And thou not near, my maiden-minded dove! +With all the coyness, all the beauty-sheen, +Of thy rapt face? A fearless virgin-queen,-- +A queen of peace art thou,--and on thy head +The golden light of all thy hair is shed + Most nimbus-like and most suggestive, too, +Of youthful saints enshrined and garlanded. + + +xi. + +Thou'rt Nature's own; and when a word of thine + Rings on the air, and when the Voice Divine +We call the lark upfloats amid the blue, +I know not which is which, for both are true, +Both meant for Heaven, though foster'd here below. +And when the silences around me flow, + I think of lilies and the face of thee +Which hath compell'd my manhood's overthrow. + + +xii. + +O blue-eyed Rapture with the radiant locks! + O thou for whom, athwart the fever-shocks +Of life and death and misery and much sin, +I'd sell salvation! There's a prize to win +And thou'rt its voucher; there's a wonder-prize, +Unknown till now beneath the vaulted skies, + And thou'rt its symbol; thou'rt its essence fair, +Its full completion form'd adoring-wise! + + +xiii. + +Yes, I will tell thee how I love thee best, + And all my thoughts of thee shall be confess'd +And none withheld, not e'en the witless one +Which late I harbor'd when the mounting sun +Burst from a cloud,--the moon a mile away, +As if in hiding from the lord of day,-- + As if, at times, the moon were like thyself, +And fear'd the semblance of a master's sway. + + +xiv. + +I love thee dearly when thine eyes are dim + With unshed tears; for then they seem to swim +In liquid blessedness, and unto me +There comes the memory of a god's decree +Which said of old:--"Be all men evermore, +All men and maids whose hearts are passion-sore, + Acclaim'd in Heaven!" and all day long I muse +On hope's divine and deathless prophet-lore. + + +xv. + +I love thee when the soft endearing flush + Invades thy face, and dimples in the blush +Bespeak attention,--as a rose's pout +Absorbs the stillness when the sun is out, +And all the air retains the glow thereof. +In all the world there is not light enough + Nor sheen enough, all day, nor any warmth, +Till thou be near me, arm'd with some rebuff! + + +xvi. + +And how I love thee when thy startled eyes + Look out at me, enrapt in that surprise +Which marks an epoch in the life I lead,-- +As if they guess'd the scope of Eros' creed +And all the mirth and malice of his wiles. +For it is wondrous when my Lady smiles, + And all the ground is holy where she treads, +And all the air is thrill'd for many miles! + + +xvii. + +In every mood of thine thou art my joy, + And, day by day, to shield thee from annoy, +I'd do the deeds that slaves were bound unto +With stabs for payment,--shuddering through and through +With their much labour; and I'd deem it grand +To die for thee if, after touch of hand, + I might but kiss thee as a lover doth; +For I should then be king of all the land. + + +xviii. + +But Father Time, old Time with Janus-face + Looks o'er the sphere, and sees no fitting place +For thine acceptance; for the thrones of earth +Are much too mean, and in thy maiden worth +Thou'rt crown'd enough, and throned in very sooth +More than the queens who lord it in their youth + O'er men's convictions; and He names thy name +As one belov'd of Nature and of Truth. + + +xix. + +He sees the nights, he sees the veering days, + The sweet spring season with its hymn of praise, +The summer, frondage-proud, the autumn pale, +The winter worn with withering of the gale,-- +All this he sees; and now, to-day, in June, +He, too, recalls that rapturous afternoon + When all the fields and flowers were like a dream, +And all the winds the offshoot of a tune. + + +xx. + +So I will cease to clamour for the past, + And seek suspension of my doubts at last, +In some new way till Fate becomes my friend. +I will re-gain the right to re-defend +The love I bear to thee, for good or ill. +For though, 'tis said, our griefs have power to kill, + Mine let me live, in mine unworthiness, +That, spurn'd of thee, my lips may praise thee still! + + +[Illustration: cherubs] + + + + +Eighth Litany. + +DOMINA EXAUDI. + + +Eighth Litany. + +Domina Exaudi. + + +i. + +It seems a year, and more, since last we met, + Since roseate spring repaid, in part, its debt +To thy bright eyes, and o'er the lowlands fair +Made daffodils so like thy golden hair +That I, poor wretch, have kiss'd them on my knees! +Forget-Me-Nots peep out beneath the trees + So like thine eyes that I have question'd them, +And thought thee near, though viewless on the breeze. + + +ii. + +It seems a year; and yet, when all is told, + 'Tis but a week since I was re-enroll'd +Among thy friends. How fairy-like the scene! +How gay with lamps! How fraught with tender sheen +Of life and languor! I was thine alone:-- +Alert for thee,--intent to catch the tone + Of thy sweet voice,--and proud to be alive +To call to heart a peace for ever flown. + + +iii. + +Had I not vext thee, as a monk in prayer + May vex a saint by musing, unaware, +On evil things? A saint is hard to move, +And quick to chide, and slow,--as I can prove,-- +To do what's just; and yet, in thy despite, +We met again, we too, at dead of night; + And I was hopeful in my love of thee, +And thou superb, and matchless, in the light. + + +iv. + +I felt distraught from gazing over-much + At thy great beauty; and I fear'd to touch +The dainty hand which Envy's self hath praised. +I fear'd to greet thee; and my soul was dazed +And self-convicted in its new design; +For I was mad to hope to call thee mine, + Aye! mad as he who claims a Virgin's love +Because his lips have praised her at a shrine. + + +v. + +I saw thee there in all the proud array + Of thy young charms,--as if a summer's day +Had leapt to life and made itself a queen,-- +As if the sylphs, remembering what had been, +Had mission'd thee, from out the world's romance, +To stir my pulse, and thrill me with a glance: + And once again, allow'd, though undesired, +I did become thy partner in the dance. + + +vi. + +I bow'd to thee. I drew thee to my side, + As one may seize a wrestler in his pride +To try conclusions,--and I felt the rush +Of my heart's blood suffuse me in a blush +That told its tale. But what my tongue would tell +Was spent in sighs, as o'er my spirit fell + The silvery cadence of thy lips' assent; +And every look o'er-ruled me like a spell. + + +vii. + +O devil's joy of dancing, when a tune + Speeds us to Heaven, and night is at the noon +Of all its frolic, all its wild desire! +O thrall of rapt illusions when we tire +Of coy reserve, and all the moments pass +As pass the visions in a magic glass, + And every step is shod with ecstacy, +And every smile is fleck'd with some Alas! + + +viii. + +Was it a moment or a merry span + Of years uncounted when convulsion ran +Right through the veins of me, to make me blest, +And yet accurst, in that revolving quest +Known as a waltz,--if waltz indeed it were +And not a fluttering dream of gauze and vair + And languorous eyes? I scarce can muse thereon +Without a pang too sweet for me to bear! + + +ix. + +By right of music, for a fleeting term, + Mine arms enwound thee and I held thee firm +There on my breast,--so near, yet so remote, +So close about me that I seem'd to float +In sunlit rapture,--touch'd I know not how +By some suggestion of a deeper vow + Than men are 'ware of when, on Glory's track, +They kneel to angels with uplifted brow. + + +x. + +And lo! abash'd, I do recall to mind + All that is past:--the yearning undefined,-- +The baulk'd confession that was like a sob-- +The sound of singing and the gurgling throb +Of lute and viol,--meant for many things +But most for misery; and a something clings + Close to my heart that is not wantonness, +Though, wanton-like, it warms me while it stings. + + +xi. + +The night returns,--that night of all the nights! + And I am dower'd anew with such delights +As memory feeds on; for I walk'd with thee +In moonlit gardens, and there flew to me +A flower-like moth, a pinion'd daffodil, +From Nature's hand; and, out beyond the hill, + There rose a star I joy'd to look upon +Because it seem'd the star of thy good will. + + +xii. + +We sat beneath the trees, as well thou know'st, + Within an arbour which a summer's boast +Had made ambrosial; and we loiter'd there +Some little space, the while upon the air +Uprose the fragrance of uncounted flowers. +Ah me! how weird a tryste was that of ours! + And how the moon look'd down, so lurid-warm, +Athwart the stillness of the frondage-towers! + + +xiii. + +I seem'd to feel thy breath upon my cheek; + I vainly searched for words I long'd to speak, +But could not utter lest the sound thereof +Should scare away the elves that wait on love. +And when I spoke to thee 'twas of the spot +Where we were seated,--things that matter'd not,-- + Uncared for things,--the weather,--the new laws! +And, sudden-loud, the wind assail'd the grot. + + +xiv. + +A little bird was warbling overhead + As if to twit me with the word unsaid +Which he, more daring, when the sun was high, +Trill'd to his mate! He knew the tender "why" +Of many a pleading, and he knew, meseems, +The very key-note to the lyric dreams + Of all true poets when, by love impell'd, +They search the secrets of the woods and streams. + + +xv. + +'Tis sure that summer, when she rear'd the bower + And arched the roof and gave it all the dower +Of all its leaves, and all the crannies small +Where wrens look through,--'tis sure that, after all, +Summer was kind, and meant to make for me +A shriving-place,--a lighthouse on the sea + Of all that verdure,--that, beneath the stars, +I might receive one quickening glance from thee. + + +xvi. + +Oh! had I dared to whisper in thine ear + My heart-full wish, undaunted by the fear +Of some rebuke:--a flush of thy fair face, +A lifted hand to tell me that the place +Was fairy-fenced, and guarded as by flame,-- +Oh! had I dared to court the word of blame + That's good for me, no doubt! at every turn, +My life to-day were chasten'd by the same. + + +xvii. + +But I was conscious of a sudden ban + Hurl'd from the zenith. I was like the man +Who scaled Olympus, with intent to bring +New fire therefrom, and dared not face the King +Of thought and thunder. I was full prepared +For thy displeasure,--for the past was bared + To mine on-looking; and, with faltering tongue, +I left my languorous meanings undeclared. + + +xviii. + +O lost Occasion! what a thing art thou:-- + A three-fold key,--the when, the where, the how,-- +The past, the present and the future tense,-- +All thrown aside. For what? A witless sense +Of some compunction! When the hour is bold +Reason is shy, and rapture, seeming-cold, + Makes mute surrender of its dearest chance, +And all for fear of doubts that might be told. + + +xix. + +But could we meet, oh! could we meet again + On some such night, unseen upon the plain, +I'd rob thee, Lady! of a tardy smile. +I would do this; and, for a breathing-while, +I would assert a sinner's right to pray, +A sinner's right to choose, as best he may, + His patron-saint; and I would kneel to thee, +And call thee mine, and dote on thee for aye! + + +xx. + +And then in summer, when the hours are mad, + And all the flow'rets in the fields are glad, +And all the breezes, like demented things +Outspeed the birds with sunlight on their wings, +In summer, aye! in summer's gracious time, +I might perchance be pardon'd for the crime + Of my much love, and win thy benison +Ere yet the year has reached its golden prime! + + +[Illustration: CHERUB] + + + + +Ninth Litany. + +LILIUM INTER SPINAS. + + +Ninth Litany. + +Lilium inter Spinas. + + +i. + +Dearest and best of maidens, whom the Fates + have dower'd with beauty, whom the glory-gates +Have shown so splendid in my waking sight, +Is't well, thou syren! thus to haunt the night +And grant no mercy, none from week to week +All through the year? Is't well my soul to seek + And shun my body? Is't throughout ordain'd +That thou shouldst spurn a love so tender-meek? + + +ii. + +It is my joy to serve thee, 'tis my pride + To own my follies, though anew denied +The chance of wisdom, and for this, who knows? +I shall be counted, ere the season's close, +A time-perverter. Yes! I shall be shamed, +And frown'd upon, and day by day proclaim'd + A foe to virtue, though, in seeking thee +I seek the goal that Virtue's self hath named. + + +iii. + +O Lily mine! O Lily tipp'd with gold + And welkin-eyed for angels to behold +When down on earth! Is't well to stand apart +And gaze at me and gently break my heart +Without one word? Is't well to seem alwày +So grieved to see me, when, at fall of day, + Thou dost accept the reverence of mine eyes, +But not the homage that my lips would pay? + + +iv. + +Oh, give me back again, at midnight hour, + As in the circuit of that starlit bower, +The right to talk with thee, and be thy friend,-- +The right, in some wild way, to make an end +Of my submission, or to re-bestow +My troth on thee,--despite the overthrow + Of all my dreams, that were my constant care, +Though less to thee than flakes of alien snow. + + +v. + +I will unveil my meanings one by one, + And tell thee why the bird that loves the sun +Loves not the moon, though conscious of her fame. +For he's the soul of truth, in his acclaim, +And knows not treason! And of like intent +Are all my yearnings, too, when I lament. + And, though I say it, there's no troubadour +Has lov'd as I, since Cupid's bow was bent. + + +vi. + +I have been wed in sleep, and thou hast been + Mine own true bride,--the swooning summer-queen +Of my heart-throbs. I have been wed in jest! +I have been taken wildly to thy breast, +And then repell'd, and made to feel the ire +Of eager eyes that have the strange desire + To rack my soul, a-tremble in the dark, +But not the will to aid me to aspire. + + +vii. + +I should have died the instant that I heard + Thy whisper'd vow in slumber,--when a word +Made me thy master, for I did receive +Thy full surrender, and I'll not believe +That all was false; or that my dreaming-power +Was given for nought. The Future may devour + The facts of earth, but not its phantasies, +And not the dreams we dream from hour to hour. + + +viii. + +Oh, thou'lt confess that love from man to maid + Is more than kingdoms,--more than light and shade +In sky-built gardens where the minstrels dwell, +And more than ransom from the bonds of Hell. +Thou wilt, I say, admit the truth of this, +And half relent that, shrinking from a kiss, + Thou didst consign me to mine own disdain, +Athwart the raptures of a vision'd bliss. + + +ix. + +I'll seek no joy that is not link'd with thine, + No touch of hope, no taste of holy wine, +And, after death, no home in any star +That is not shared by thee, supreme, afar, +As here thou'rt first and foremost of all things! +Glory is thine and gladness and the wings + That wait on thought when, in thy spirit-sway, +Thou dost invest a realm unknown to kings. + + +x. + +I will accept of thee a poison-bowl + And drink the dregs thereof,--aye! to the soul,-- +And sound thy praises with my latest breath! +I was a pilgrim bound for Nazareth, +But when I knew thee, when I touched thy hand, +I changed my purpose; and to-day I stand + Thine amorous vassal, though denounced afresh +And warn'd away, unkiss'd, from Edenland. + + +xi. + +O flower unequall'd here from morn to morn, + Is't well, bethink thee, with a rose's thorn +To deck thyself, thou lily! and to seem +So irresponsive to my passion-dream? +Is't a caprice of thine to look so proud, +And so severe, athwart the shining cloud + Of thy long hair? And shall I never learn +How least to grieve thee when my vows are vow'd? + + +xii. + +The full perfection of thy face is such + That, like a child's, it seems to know the touch +Of some glad hour that God has smiled upon. +There is a whiteness whiter than the swan, +A singing sweeter than the linnet's note. +But there is nothing whiter than thy throat, + And nothing sweeter than thy tender voice +When, love-attuned, it skyward seems to float. + + +xiii. + +Lily and rose in one! To find thy peer + Exceeds belief, all through the varying year, +For chance thereof, and hope thereof, is none. +There comes no rival to the rising sun, +And none to thee!--no rival to the moon +That sets in Venice on the far lagoon, + And none to thee, thou marvel of the months, +That art the cynosure of night and noon! + + +xiv. + +Yes, I will hope. I will not cease to turn + My thoughts to thee, and cry to thee, and yearn +As one in Hell may lift enamour'd eyes +To some sweet soul beyond the central skies +Whose face has slain him! For 'tis true, I swear: +I have been murder'd by thy golden hair, + And by the brightness of those fringèd orbs +That are at once my joy and my despair. + + +xv. + +Winter is wild; but spring will come again; + For there's compunction in the fever-pain +That earth endures when, clamorous down the steep, +The wind out-blows the curse it cannot keep. +And so, belike, thy scorn of me may change +To something fairer than the fated range + Of dole, and doubt, and pity, and reproof; +And then my sighs may cease to seem so strange. + + +xvi. + +For thou and I will meet and not be foes, + E'en as the rue may stand beside the rose +And not affront it,--as a lonely tree +May guard a shrine and not upon the lea +Be deem'd obtrusive,--as an errant knight +May serve the sovereign of his soul's delight + And not, thereby, be deem'd of less account +Than he who keeps her daily in his sight. + + +xvii. + +Reject me not that in the world of men, + Among the wielders of the sword and pen +I have, as 'twere, detractors by the score,-- +Reject me not for faults that I deplore +And fain would alter,--though, if I were wise, +I'd blunt the edge thereof in some disguise + Approved of thee! For I've a kind of hope +That we'll be friends again ere summer dies. + + +xviii. + +If this be true I'll greet thee with such fire + That thou wilt throb thereat, as throbs a lyre, +And give thine answer, too, without restraint, +And neither frown at me nor fear a taint +In my much zeal, that knows not any pause +But, night and day, is constant to the laws + Of its own making, and is fain to prove +How leagued it is throughout to Honor's cause. + + +xix. + +I will conceal from thee no thought of mine. + All will be clear as signing of a sign +On marriage-scrips; and, though I tell thee so, +The seas and streams of earth shall cease to flow +Ere thou shalt find, in this world or the next, +A love so proud, a faith so firmly sex'd, + As this of mine. For thou'rt the polar star +To which I turn as minstrel to his text. + + +xx. + +But woe's the hour! My heart is wounded sore, + And soon may cease to take, as heretofore, +Such keen delight in tears that comfort not, +But evermore do seem to leave a blot +On sorrow's teaching! Shall I muse thereon +One season more, till hope and faith be gone? + Or must I look for comfort up in Heaven +And then be slain by thee as night by dawn? + + +[Illustration: cherubs] + + + + +Tenth Litany. + +GLORIA IN EXCELSIS. + + +Tenth Litany. + +Gloria in Excelsis. + + +i. + +O Love! O Lustre of the sunlit earth + That knows thy step and revels in the worth +Of thy much beauty! Is't thy will anew, +Famed as thou art, to marvel that I sue +With such persistence, and in such unrest +Amid the frenzies of my passion-quest? + Wilt look ungently, and without a tear, +On all the pangs I bear at thy behest? + + +ii. + +Morning and eve I cease not, when I kneel + To my Redeemer for my spirit's weal +And for my body's,--as becomes a man,-- +Morning and eve I cease not in the span +Of all my days, O thou Unconquer'd One! +To pray for thee, and do what may be done + To re-acquire the friendship I have lost, +Which is the holiest thing beneath the sun. + + +iii. + +For what is fame that with so loud a voice + O'ersways the nations? What the random choice +Of sight and sound which makes the place we fill +So fraught with good, so redolent of ill? +Where is the thunderstorm of yesternight +That shook the clouds? And where the levin's blight + That spake of chaos and the Judgment Day? +And where the wisdom of a king's delight? + + +iv. + +Could I be kiss'd of thee, or crown'd of men, + I'd choose the kiss. I'd be ordainèd then +Lord of myself, and not the slave I seem +To each new doubt. Our tryste was like a dream +And yet 'twas true. For oft, by wonder-chance, +We find the path to many a bright romance, + And many a tilt and tourney of dear love +In which the brave are vanquish'd by a glance. + + +v. + +To lie alone with thee one little hour, + And cling to thee as flower may cling to flower, +With no rough thought beyond the peace thereof,-- +To be thy comrade, and to don and doff +The little chain that hangs about thy neck,-- +To do all this, my Fair One! and to fleck + Thine eyes with kisses, were a righteous deed, +And not a thing for Love to hold in check. + + +vi. + +Nay, there are dimples which I long to taste, + And there's a girdle fit for Phoebe's waist +Which I would loosen; for I have the skill +To handle lilies; and, by Venus' will, +I'd handle thee, and comfort thee therein. +For love's a sacrament I'd die to win, + And not a toy nor yet a subterfuge; +And not a pitfall for the feet of sin. + + +vii. + +The searching suddenness of thy blue eyes, + The flash thereof, the fire that in them lies,-- +All this I yearn to,--all the soul of thee +Shown in thy looks, as though to solace me +In some disaster portion'd out as mine. +Where thou abidest, where thy limbs recline, + Where thou'rt absorb'd in silence or in prayer, +There stands a throne, there gleams a fairy shrine. + + +viii. + +I am, indeed, more subject to thy sway + Than trees are subject, in their tender way, +To earth's great king revolving round the sphere. +I am thy suffering servant all the year; +And when I wake thy name is on my lips, +And when I sleep I feel thy finger-tips + Press'd on mine eyes, as if thy wraith were there, +To save my soul from night's entire eclipse. + + +ix. + +Till I have heard from thee my doom of death + I shall be proud to serve thee with my breath, +And with my labour, and be thine withal +As Man is God's,--content with any thrall +That's bound in thee; content with any lot +That's link'd with thine, in some secluded spot + Which thou hast lov'd, O Lady! in the past, +And where remorse and wrong will find us not. + + +x. + +To know thee fair, ah God! how sweet is this; + To find thee wavering, and to grasp in bliss +Only the dream of thee, how sad the while! +And yet, by reason of a moment's smile, +How grand to hope, how gracious to forget! +Thou false to me? Thou heedless of a debt + Of love's incurring? Nay, by Juno's crown, +Thy snow-white hand shall be my guerdon yet! + + +xi. + +The spirit-love that leads us to the soul + Athwart the body as its fairest goal,-- +The love that lives in languor undefined +And yet is strong,--the love that can be kind +And yet aggressive as a soldier's blade, +Keen to the hilt, entranced and not afraid,-- + This is the love that will survive the death +Of all endowments which the years have made. + + +xii. + +Wilt frown at this? Wilt chide me? Wilt appeal, + As some are wont, when lovers, out of zeal, +O'erstep the bounds of wisdom which hath ceased +To win men's praise? The Matins of the East +Sung by the lark,--the Credo of the Cloud +Which oft he sings in confirmation proud + Of his great love,--all this were mine excuse +If I could sing as he, so dawn-endow'd. + + +xiii. + +For I'd be welcome, then, where'er thou art, + And gladden thee, and play as prompt a part +As Romeo play'd with Juliet at his breast. +Who loves not love, who hates to be caress'd, +Is Nature's bane; and I'll denounce him, too. +For he's a foe to all that's just and true + In earth and Heaven; and when he seeks a joy, +His quest shall fail,--his hand shall miss the clue. + + +xiv. + +We know these things. We know how dark a word + May let in light, and how the smallest bird +May mix the morn with music till we think +The fire-lit air is wine for us to drink,-- +And every drop salvation,--every sound +A Muse's whisper,--all the flower-full ground + A fancy-carpet fit for knights to tread +When on their way to Arthur's Table Round. + + +xv. + +A peevish fool is he who will not raise + His hands in prayer, among the danger-days +That come to all; for he, when waxen old, +Will search the past and find it callous-cold; +And all the future, too, will freeze for him. +Nor shall he weep aright when tears bedim + His desperate, doleful eyes that know not faith; +And he shall hear no chants of cherubim. + + +xvi. + +I was bewitch'd of late! My soul had met + Some fearful doom; and there had dropt a threat,-- +A curse belike,--from lips of Atropos. +There had been done a deed of spirit-loss +Which did o'erwhelm me as I paused thereat. +But now 'tis shunn'd; and where a Tremor sat + Now sits a Hope; and where a gulf was seen +Now stands a mount as blest as Ararat. + + +xvii. + +The rose is silent, and the lily dumb + For Man alone. He sees them when they come +Glad from the soil; but what they mean thereby, +And what they dream of, when they front the sky, +Eludes his learning. But the birds can tell. +Moths talk to flowers; and breezes in the dell + Hear more confessions than we men reveal; +And oaks and cedars love each other well. + + +xviii. + +In woodland places where the grass is lit + With lamp-like flowers, I seem to see thee flit +On azure wings, as if to bless the glade; +For, everywhere, thy form in shine and shade +Doth come and go, conversant, as I deem, +With Nature's whims; for thou'rt of great esteem + In fairy haunts; and elves and fays confess +How sweet thou art, my Love! and how supreme. + + +xix. + +Diana's self was not more virgin-proud. + The maiden-moon, new-seated on a cloud +That seems her throne where she receives the stars,-- +The moon who holds her court beyond the jars +Of land and sea,--the moon, the vestal moon, +Has kept thee cold since the transcendant noon + Of that wild day when I thy hand did claim, +And when thy lips refusèd me their boon. + + +xx. + +But thoughts are free; and mine have found at last + Their apt solution; and, from out the past, +There seems to shine as 'twere a beacon-fire; +And all the land is lit with large desire +Of lambent glory; all the quivering sea +Is big with waves that wait the Morn's decree, + As I, thy vassal, wait thy beckoning smile +Athwart the splendors of my dreams of Thee! + + +Amen! + + +THE LEADENHALL PRESS +LONDON, E. 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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: A Lover's Litanies + +Author: Eric Mackay + +Release Date: February 3, 2009 [EBook #27971] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LOVER'S LITANIES *** + + + + +Produced by K Nordquist, David T. Jones and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 288px;"> +<img src="images/title1.png" width="288" height="35" +alt="title" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-003.png" width="500" height="180" +alt="main title" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /> + +<h4><i>BY</i></h4> +<br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 172px;"> +<img src="images/author.png" width="172" height="33" +alt="logo" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /> + +<h4><i>Author of "Love Letters of a Violinist," and<br /> +"Gladys the Singer."</i></h4> +<br /><br /> + + +<h4>1888.</h4> + +<h4><i>LONDON:</i></h4> + +<h5><i>Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.<br /> +Simpkin, Marshall & Co.; Hamilton, Adams & Co.</i></h5> + +<h5><i>New York: Scribner & Welford, 743 & 745, Broadway.</i></h5> +<br /> + +<h6>THE LEADENHALL PRESS,<br /> +LONDON, E.C.</h6> + +<h6>T 4,258.</h6> +<br /><br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 472px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-005.png" width="472" height="600" +alt="Ave Maria" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-007.png" width="600" height="335" +alt="contents" title="" /></div> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +<br /> +<table summary="TOC" width="80%" border="0"> +<tr> +<td> </td> +<td> </td> +<td class="tdr"><span class="smcap">page</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><big><b>First Litany</b></big></td> +<td><a href="#First_Litany"><big><b>Virgo Dulcis</b></big></a></td> +<td class="tdr"><b>11</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><big><b>Second Litany</b></big></td> +<td><a href="#Second_Litany"><big><b>Vox Amoris</b></big></a></td> +<td class="tdr"><b>25</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><big><b>Third Litany</b></big></td> +<td><a href="#Third_Litany"><big><b>Ad Te Clamavi</b></big></a></td> +<td class="tdr"><b>39</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><big><b>Fourth Litany</b></big></td> +<td><a href="#Fourth_Litany"><big><b>Gratia Plena</b></big></a></td> +<td class="tdr"><b>53</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><big><b>Fifth Litany</b></big></td> +<td><a href="#Fifth_Litany"><big><b>Salve Regina</b></big></a></td> +<td class="tdr"><b>67</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><big><b>Sixth Litany</b></big></td> +<td><a href="#Sixth_Litany"><big><b>Benedicta Tu</b></big></a></td> +<td class="tdr"><b>81</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><big><b>Seventh Litany</b></big></td> +<td><a href="#Seventh_Litany"><big><b>Stella Matutina</b></big></a></td> +<td class="tdr"><b>95</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><big><b>Eighth Litany</b></big></td> +<td><a href="#Eighth_Litany"><big><b>Domina Exaudi</b></big></a></td> +<td class="tdr"><b>109</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><big><b>Ninth Litany</b></big></td> +<td><a href="#Ninth_Litany"><big><b>Lilium inter Spinas</b></big></a></td> +<td class="tdr"><b>123</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><big><b>Tenth Litany</b></big></td> +<td><a href="#Tenth_Litany"><big><b>Gloria in Excelsis</b></big></a></td> +<td class="tdr"><b>137</b></td> +</tr> +</table> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-008.png" width="300" height="261" +alt="angel" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-009.png" width="600" height="363" +alt="virgo dulcis" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +<a name="First_Litany" id="First_Litany"></a> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-011.png" width="600" height="442" +alt="first banner" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<h4>i.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big> thou refulgent essence of all grace!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O thou that with the witchery of thy face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast made of me thy servant unto death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pray thee pause, ere, musical of breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rapt of utterance, thou condemn indeed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My venturous wooing, and the wanton speed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With which I greet thee, dear and tender soul!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From out the fullness of my passion-creed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> am so truly thine that nevermore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall man be found, this side the Stygian shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So meek as I, so patient under blame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, withal, so minded to proclaim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His life-long ardour. For my theme is just:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A heart enslaved, a smile, a broken trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A soft mirage, a glimpse of fairyland,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then the wreck thereof in tears and dust.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>hou wast not made for murder, yet a glance<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May murderous prove; and beauty may entrance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than a syren's or a serpent's eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there are moments when a smother'd sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May hint at comfort and a murmur'd "No"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give signs of "Yes," and Misery's overflow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make tears more precious than we care to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though, one by one, our hopes we must forego.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> should have shunn'd thee as a man may shun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His evil hour. I should have curst the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That made the day so bright and earth so fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first we met, delirium through the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burning like fire! I should have curst the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the stars that, dream-like, in a swoon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shut out the day,—the lov'd, the lovely day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That came too late and left us all too soon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>v.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> look'd at thee, and lo! from face to feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I saw my tyrant, and I felt the beat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my quick pulse. I knew thee for a queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bow'd submissive; and the smile serene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy sweet face reveal'd the soul of thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I was wounded as a man may be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whom Eros tricks with words he will not prove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all my peace of mind went out from me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>h, why didst cheer me with the thought of bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wouldst not pay me back my luckless kiss?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sought thy side. I gave thee of my store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One wild salute. A flame was at the core<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that first kiss; and on my mouth I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glow thereof, the pressure and the seal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if thy nature, when the deed was done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had leapt to mine in lightning-like appeal.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>f debts were paid in full I might require<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More than my kiss. I might, in time, aspire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To some new bond, or re-enact the first.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For once, thou know'st, the love for which I thirst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love for which I hunger'd in thy sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was not withheld. I deem'd thee, day and night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mine own true mate, and sent thee token flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To figure forth the hopes I'd fain indite.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>viii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>s this not so? Canst thou detend, in truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sunlike smile with which, in flush of youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou didst accept my greeting,—though so late,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love-lorn homage when the voice of Fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell from thy lips, and made me twice a man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because half thine, in that betrothal-plan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whereof I spake, not knowing how 'twould be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When May had marr'd the prospects it began?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>C</b></big></big></big>an'st thou deny that, early in the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When daisies droop'd, and birds were fain to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We met, and talk'd, and walk'd, and were content<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sunlit paths? An hour and more we spent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Keats's Grove. We linger'd near the stem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that lone tree on which was seen the gem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of his bright name, there carven by himself;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then I stoop'd and kiss'd thy garment's hem.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>x.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> gave thee all my life. I gave thee there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In that wild hour, the great Creator's share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of mine existence; and I turn'd to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As men to idols, madly on my knee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then uplifted by those arms of thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sat beside thee, warm'd with other wine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than vintage balm; and, mindful of thy blush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I guess'd a thought which words will not define.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xi.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> told thee stories of the days of joy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When earth was young, and love without alloy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made all things glad and all the thoughts of things.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like a man who wonders when he sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And knows not whence the power that in him lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I made a madrigal of all my sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bade thee heed them; and I join'd therewith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The texts of these my follies that I prize.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> spoke of men, long dead, who wooed in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet were happy,—men whose tender pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was fraught with fervor, as the night with stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then I spoke of heroes' battle-scars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lordly souls who rode from land to land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To win the love-touch of a lady's hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And on the strings of thy low-murmuring lute<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I struck the chords that all men understand.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> sang to thee. I praised thee with my praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'en as a bird, conceal'd in sylvan ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May laud the rose, and wish, from hour to hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he had petals like the empress-flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there could grow, unwing'd, and be a bud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all his warblings ta'en at singing-flood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And turned to vàgaries of the wildest scent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To undermine the meekness in her blood.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>h, those were days! That April should have been<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My last on earth, and, ere the frondage green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had changed to gold, I should have join'd the ranks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of dull dead men who lived for little thanks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made the most thereof, though penance-bound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should have known that in the daily round<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of mine existence, there are griefs to spare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But joys, alas! too few on any ground.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xv.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>nd here I stand to-day with bended head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My task undone, my garden overspread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With baneful weeds. Am I the lord thereof?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or mine own slave, without the power to doff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My misery's badge? Am I so weak withal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I must loiter, though the bugle's call<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shrills o'er the moor, the far-off weltering moor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where foemen meet to vanquish or to fall?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>m I so blurr'd in soul, so out of health,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I must turn to thee, as if by stealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fear thy censure, fear thy quick rebuff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou so gentle in a world so rough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That God's high priest, the morn-apparell'd sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er saw thy like! Am I indeed undone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of life and love and all? and must I weep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For joys that quit me, and for sands that run?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>o-morrow's dawn will break; but Yesterday,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where is its light? And where the breezes' play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sway'd the flowers? A bird will sing again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not so well. The wind upon the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wintry wind, will toss the groaning trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I, what comfort shall I have of these,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To know that they, unlov'd, have lost the Spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I thy favour and my power to please?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xviii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> should have learnt a lesson from the songs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of woodland birds discoursing on the wrongs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of madcap moths and bachelor butterflies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should have caught the cadence of the sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of unwed flowers, and learnt the way to woo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which all things know but I, beneath the blue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Heaven's great dome; for, undesired of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have but jarr'd the notes that seem'd so true.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> should have told thee all I meant to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And how, at Lammas-tide, a wedding-bell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rang through my sleep, mine own as well as thine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how I led thee, smiling, to a shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there endow'd thee with the name I bear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how I woke to find the morning-air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flooded with light. I should have told thee this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not conceal'd the theme of my long prayer.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xx.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>B</b></big></big></big>ut I was timid. Oh, my love was such<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I scarce could name it! Trembling over-much<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With too much ardour, I was moved at length<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mere mad utterance. In a blameful strength<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seiz'd thy hand, to scare thee, as of old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dryads were scared; and calm and icy-cold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thine answer came: "I pray thee, vex me not!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all that day 'twas winter on the wold.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-021.png" width="150" height="81" +alt="knot" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 338px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-022.png" width="338" height="350" +alt="cherub hunter" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-023.png" width="600" height="438" +alt="vox amoris" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> +<a name="Second_Litany" id="Second_Litany"></a> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-025.png" width="600" height="330" +alt="second banner" title="" /></div> +<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[<big><b>*</b></big>Link to Footnote 1]</a> +<br /> + +<h4>i.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>V</b></big></big></big>ouchsafe, my Lady! by the passion-flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And by the glamour of a moonlit hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by the cries and sighs of all the birds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sing o'nights, to heed again the words<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my poor pleading! For I swear to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love is deeper than the bounding sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And more conclusive than a wedding-bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And freer-voiced than winds upon the lea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>n all the world, from east unto the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is no vantage-ground, and little rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no content for me from dawn to dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From set of sun to song-time of the lark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, withal, there is no man alive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who for a goodly cause to make it thrive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would do such deeds as I would gird me to<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could I but win the pearl for which I dive.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>t is thy love which, downward in the deep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of far-off visions, I behold in sleep,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is thy pearl of love which in the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth tempt my soul to hopes I dare not write,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is this gem for which, had I a crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd barter peace and pomp, and ermined gown;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is thy troth, thou paragon of maids!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For which I'd sell the joys of all renown.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> would attack a panther in its den<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To do thee service as thy man of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or front the Fates, or, like a ghoul, confer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With staring ghosts outside a sepulchre.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would forego a limb to give thee life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or yield my soul itself in any strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In any coil of doubt, in any spot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Death and Danger meet as man and wife.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>v.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>t is my solace, all my nights and days,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To pray for thee and dote on thee always,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And evermore to count myself a king<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because I earn'd thy favour in the spring.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, smile on me and call me to thy side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will kneel to thee, as to a bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet adore thee as a saint in Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By God ordained, by good men glorified!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> will acquaint thee with mine inmost thought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And teach thee all I know, though unbesought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make thee prouder of a poet's dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than wealthy men are proud of what they seem.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou have trust therein, if thou require<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Service of me, or song, or penance dire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I will obey thee as thy belted knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or die to satisfy thy heart's desire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>h! thou hast that in store which none can give,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">None but thyself, and I am fain to live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To watch the outcome of so fair a gift,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the bright good morrow loom and lift,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And know that thou,—unpeer'd beneath the moon,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untamed of men,—untutor'd to the tune<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of lip with lip,—wilt cease thy coy disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And learn the languors of the loves of June.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>viii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>ll that I am, and all I hope to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is thine till death; and though I die for thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each day I live; and though I throb and thrill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At thoughts that seem to burn me, and to chill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my dark hours, I revel in the same;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I am free of hope, as thou of blame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all around me, wakeful and in sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I weave a blessing for thy soul to claim.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>h, by thy radiant hair and by the glow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of thy full eyes,—and by thy breast of snow,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by the buds thereof that have the flush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of infant roses when they strive to blush,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by thy voice, melodious as a bell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That rings for prayer in God's high citadel,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By all these things, and more than I can urge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I charge thee, Sweet! to let me out of hell!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>x.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>s it not Hell to live so far away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And not to touch thee,—not by night or day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be partaker of one smile of thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or one commingling of thy breath and mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or one encounter of thine amorous mouth?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dwell apart from thee, as north from south,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As east from western ways I dwell apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And taste the tears that quench not any drouth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xi.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>W</b></big></big></big>hy wouldst thou take the memory of a wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To be thy shadow all the summer long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thing to chide thee at the dead of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thing to wake thee with the morning light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For self-upbraiding, while the wanton bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Invests the welkin? Ah, by joy deferr'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By peace withheld from me,—do thou relent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dower my life to-day with one love-word!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>W</b></big></big></big>ouldst thou, Cassandra-wise, oppress my soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With more unrest, and Hebè-like, the bowl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of festal comfort for a moment raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my poor lips, and then avert thy gaze?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wouldst make me mad beyond the daily curse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy displeasure, and in wrath disperse<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That halcyon draught, that nectar of the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is the theme I yearn to in my verse?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>h, by thy pity when so slight a thing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As some small bird is wounded in the wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Avert thy scorn, and grant me, from afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At least the right to love thee as a star,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The right to turn to thee, the right to bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thy pure name and evermore, as now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To own thy thraldom and to sing thereon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In proud allegiance to mine earliest vow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>t were abuse of power to frown again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, all day long, I gloat upon the pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of pent-up hope, my joy and my distress,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the remembrance of a mute caress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Given to a rose,—a rose I pluck'd for thee,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems as the withering of the world to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because I am unlov'd of thee to-day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And undesired as sea-weeds in the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xv.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>'ll not believe that eyes so bright as thine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were meant for malice in the summer-shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or that a glance thereof, though changed to fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could injure one whose spirit, like a lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has throbb'd to music of remember'd joys,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pride thereof, and all the tender poise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of trust with trust,—the symphonies of grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made all mine own,—and Faith which never cloys.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>H</b></big></big></big>ow can it be that one so fair as thou<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should wear contention on a whiter brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than May-day Dian's in her hunting gear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll not believe that eyes so holy-clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mouth so constant to its morning prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could mock the mischief of a man's despair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all the misery of a moment's hope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seen far away, as mists are seen in air.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>H</b></big></big></big>ow can a woman's heart be made of stone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she not know it? Mine is overthrown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have no heart to-day, no perfect one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only a thing that sighs at set of sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beats its cage, as if the thrall thereof<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were freedom's prison or the tomb of love;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if, God help me! there were shame in truth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no salvation left in realms above.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xviii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> once could laugh, I once was deem'd a man<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fit for the frenzies of the dead god Pan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now, by Heaven! the birds that sing so well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Move me to tears; and all the leafy dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the sun-down glories of the West,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the moorland which the moon has blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make me a dreamer, aye! a coward, too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the weird expanse of mine unrest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>t is my curse to see thee and to learn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I must shun thee, though I blaze and burn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all this longing, all this fierce delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fear-fraught and famish'd for a suitor's right;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A right conceded for a moment's space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then withdrawn as, amorous face to face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I dared to clasp thee and to urge a troth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too sovereign-sweet for one of Adam's race.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xx.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> am a doom-entangled mirthless soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without the power to rid me of the dole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, day by day, and nightly evermore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Corrodes my peace! Oh, smile, as once before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At each wild thought and each discarded plea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let thy sentence, let thy suffrance be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I be reckon'd till the day I die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sad-eyed Singer of thy fame and thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 220px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-035.png" width="220" height="197" +alt="twigs and ribbon" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 361px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-036.png" width="361" height="350" +alt="cherub watering garden" title="" /></div> +<br/><br /> + +<a name="Third_Litany" id="Third_Litany"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-037.png" width="600" height="402" +alt="ad te clamavi" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-039.png" width="600" height="331" +alt="banner three" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<h4>i.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>gain, O Love! again I make lament,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, Arab-like, I pitch my summer-tent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outside the gateways of the Lord of Song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I weep and wait, contented all day long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be the proud possessor of a grief.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It comforts me. It gives me more relief<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than pleasures give; and, spirit-like in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It re-invokes the peace that was so brief.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>t speaks of thee. It keeps me from the lake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which else might tempt me; and for thy sweet sake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shun all evil. I am calmer now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than when I wooed thee, calmer than the vow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which made me thine, and yet so fond withal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I start and tremble at the wind's footfall.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is it the wind? Or is it mine own past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come back to life to lure me to its thrall?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> long to rise and seek thee where thou art<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And draw thee amorous to my wakeful heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That beats for thee alone, in vague unrest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I long to front thee when thou'rt lily-dress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In white attire,—e'en like the flowers of old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Jesus praised; and, though the thought be bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'm fain to kiss thee, Sweetheart! through thy hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hide my face awhile in all that gold.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> will not say what more might then be done,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And how, by moonlight or beneath the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We might be happy. In a reckless mood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've talk'd of this; and dreams and many a brood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tongue-tied fancies have my soul beset.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not hint at fealty or the fret<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of lips untrue, or anger thee therein,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or call to mind one word thou wouldst forget.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>v.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> should withhold my raptures were I wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I should not vex thee with my many sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or claim one tear from thee, though 'tis my due.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should be silent. I should cease to sue!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrow should teach me what I fail'd to learn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In days gone by; and cross'd at every turn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By some new doubt, new-born of my desires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should suppress the pangs with which I burn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> am an outcast from the land of love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou the Queen thereof, as white as dove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New-sped from Heaven, and fine and fair to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As coy Queen Mab when, out upon the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She met her master and was lov'd of him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art allied to long-hair'd cherubim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I a something undesired of these,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With woesome lips and eyes for ever dim.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> was ordain'd thy minstrel, but alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I dare not greet thee when I see thee pass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I scarce, indeed, may hope at any time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To work my will, or triumph in a rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To do thee honour; no, nor make amends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For unsought fervor, in the tangled ends<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of my despair. How sad, how dark to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All things have grown since thou and I were friends!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>viii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>t is the fault of thy despotic glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is the memory of a day's romance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, true to thee, though taunted for my truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dared to solemnise the joys of youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In one wild chant. It is thy fault, I say!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy piteous fault that, on the verge of May,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I lost the right to live, as heretofore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untouched by doubt from day to brightening day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big> Summer's Pride! I loved thee from the first,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, like a martyr, I was blest and curst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saved and slain, and crown'd and made anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A grief-glad man, with yearnings not a few,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no just hope to win so fair a troth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should have known how one may weep for both<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When lovers part, poor souls! beneath the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how Remembrance may outlive an oath.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>x.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>he nymphs, I think, were like thee in the glade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of that Greek valley where the wine was made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For feasts of Bacchus; for I dream at night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those creations, kind and calm and bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my thought, unhallow'd though it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun-born Muses turn their gaze on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And seem to know me as a friend of theirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though all unfit to serve them on my knee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xi.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>hey lived and sang. They died as visions die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Supreme, eternal, offshoots of the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made and re-made, undraped and draped afresh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To glad the earth like phantoms made of flesh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet as mistlike as delusions are!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They stood beside Achilles in his car;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They knew the gods and all their joysome deeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the chants that sprang from star to star.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>he myths of Greece, the maidens of the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dear dead fancies of the days of Jove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why were they bann'd? Oh, why in Reason's name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were they abolished? They were good to claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And good to dream of, and to crown with bays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far-seen of men, far-shining in the haze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of withering doubts. They were the world's elect,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thou art mine, to bow to and to praise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>N</b></big></big></big>ight after night I see thee, in my dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As fair as Daphne, with the morning beams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy bright locks about thee like a cloak,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair as the young Aurora when she woke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Phæthon's call, athwart the mountain-heights.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see thee radiant in the summer nights,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, bosom-pack'd with frenzies unrepress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thrill to thee in Slumber's soft delights.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>xiv.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> see thee pout. I see thee in disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look out, reluctant, through the falling rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy long hair. I feel thee close at hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I note thy breathing as I loose the band<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That binds thy waist, and then to waking life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I backward start! Despair is Sorrow's wife;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I am Sorrow, and Despair's mine own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lure me on to madness or to strife.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xv.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>M</b></big></big></big>y sex offends thee, or the thought of this;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For I did fright thee when I fleck'd a kiss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With too much heat. I should have bow'd to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left unsaid the word, deception-free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, like a flash, illumed the love within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wilfulness was much to blame therein;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But thou wilt shrive me, Sweet! of mine offence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If passion-pangs be deem'd so dark a sin.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>h, give me back my soul that with the same<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I may achieve a deed of poet-fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or die belauded on the battle-field!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's much to seek. My hand is strong to wield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weapon or pen. If thou consent thereto<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deeds may be done. If not, thine eyes are blue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Heaven is there,—a two-fold tender shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose wrath I fear, whose judgment still I rue!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> am but half myself. The life in me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is nigh crush'd out; and, though I seem to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glory, and grace, and joy, as in the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are but shadows on the cozening blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dreams of devils and distorted things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And snakes coiled up that look like wedding rings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And faded flowers that once were fit for wreaths<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In bygone summers and in perish'd springs.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xviii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>here is a curse in every garden place,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when, at night, the lily's holy face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks up to God, it seems to chide me there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very sun with all his golden hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is ill at ease, and birth and death of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring no relief; and darkly on my way<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My memory comes,—the ghost of my Delight,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fret and fume at woes it cannot slay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>h, bid me smile again, as in the time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When all the breezes seem'd to make a chime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the birds on all the woodland slopes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had trills for me, and seem'd to guess the hopes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That warm'd my heart. O thou whom I adore!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How proud were I,—though wounded bitter-sore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By shafts of doubt,—if, in default of love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could but win thy friendship as of yore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xx.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>hen were I blest indeed, and crown'd of fate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As kings are crowned, as bards in their estate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are rapture-fraught, re-risen above the dust.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then were I torture-proof, and on the crust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of one kind word, though as a pittance thrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd live for weeks! My tears I would disown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pray, contented with my discontent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As hermits pray when storms are overblown.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 177px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-049.png" width="177" height="200" +alt="wild flowers" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 325px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-050.png" width="325" height="400" +alt="cherub and flowers" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +<a name="Fourth_Litany" id="Fourth_Litany"></a> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-051.png" width="600" height="374" +alt="gratia plena" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-053.png" width="600" height="298" +alt="fourth banner" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<h4>i.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>h, smile on me, thou syren of my soul!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I may curb my thoughts to some control<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not offend thee, as in truth I do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Morning, and noon and night, when I pursue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My vagrant fancies, unallow'd of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fraught with such consolement unto me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As may be felt in homeward-sailing ships<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When wind and wave contend upon the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>D</b></big></big></big>ower me with patience and imbue me still<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With some reminder, when the night is chill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy dear presence, as, in winter-time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The maiden moon, that tenderly doth climb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lofty heavens, hath yet a beam to spare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For doleful wretches in their dungeon-lair;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'en thus endow me in my chamber dim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With some reminder of thy face so fair!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>Q</b></big></big></big>uit thou thy body while thou sleepest well<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And visit mine at midnight, by the spell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That knows not shame. For in the House of Sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All things are pure; and in the silence deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll wait for thee, and thou, contrition-wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt seek my couch and this that on it lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This frame of mine that lives for thee alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As palmers live for peace that never dies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>t were a goodly thing to spare a foe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And kill his hate. And I would e'en do so!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I would kill the coyness of thy face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would enfold thee in my spurn'd embrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kiss the kiss that gladdens as with wine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, I would wrestle with those arms of thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, like a victor, I would vanquish thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, tyrant-like, I'd teach thee to be mine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>v.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>F</b></big></big></big>or, what is peace that we should cling thereto<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If war be wisest? If the death we woo<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be fraught with fervor there's delight in death!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is persuasion in the tempest's breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not known in calm; and raptures round us flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, like an arrow through the bended bow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of two fond lips, the quivering dart of love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brings down the kiss which saints shall not bestow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>he soldier dies for country and for kin;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He dies for fame that is so sweet to win;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, part for duty, part for battle-doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wends his way to where the myrtles bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gains a grave, perchance a recompense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond his seeking, and a restful sense<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of soul-completion, far from any strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far from memory of his land's defence.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>B</b></big></big></big>e this my meed,—to die for love of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As when the sun goes down upon the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And finds no mate in all the realms of earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, too, have look'd on Nature in its worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And found no resting-place in all the spheres,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no relief beyond my sonnet-tears,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The soul-fed shudderings of my lonely harp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That knows the gamut now of all my fears.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>viii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> wear thy colours till the day I die:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A glove, a ribbon, and a rose thereby,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All join'd in one. I revel in these things;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, once an angel, unarray'd in wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came to my side, and beam'd on me, and said:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I love thee, friend!" and then, with lifted head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gave me a rose on which the dew had fallen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like the flower, she blush'd a virgin-red.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> found the glove down yonder in the dale.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I knew 'twas thine; its color, creamy-pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill'd me with joy. "A prize!" I cried aloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And snatch'd it up, as zealous then, and proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one who wins a knighthood in his youth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I was moved thereat, in very sooth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And kiss'd it oft, and call'd on kindly Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be the sponsor of mine amorous truth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>x.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> Earn'd the ribbon as we earn a smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For service done. I help'd thee at the stile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so 'twas mine, my trophy, as of right.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, never yet was ribbon half so bright!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seem'd of sky-descent,—a strip of morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrown on the sod,—a something summer-worn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To be my guerdon; and, enriched therewith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I follow'd thee, thy suitor, through the corn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xi.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> trod on air. I seem'd to hear the sound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of fifes and trumpets and the quick rebound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of bells unseen,—the storming of a tower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By imps audacious, and the sovereign power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some arch-fairy, thine acquaintance sure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In days gone by; for, all the land was pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if new-blest,—the land and all the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the welkin where the stars endure.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>W</b></big></big></big>e journey'd on through fields that were a-glow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With cowslip buds and daisies white as snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, hand in hand, we stood beside a shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At which a bard whom lovers deem divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laid down his life; and, as we gazed at this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There seem'd to issue from the wood's abyss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A sound of trills, as if, in its wild way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A nightingale were pondering on a kiss.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big> lane was reached that led I know not where,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unless to Heaven,—for Heaven was surely there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou so near it! And within a nook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A-down whose covertness a noisy brook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did talk of peace, I learnt of thee my fate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The word of pity that was kin to hate,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The voice of reason that was reason's foe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because it spurn'd the love that was so great!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>B</b></big></big></big>ut I must pause. I must, from day to day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Keep back my tears, and seek a surer way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than Memory's track. I must, with lifted eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Re-shape my life, and heed the battle-cries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of prompt ambition, and be braced at call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To do such deeds as haply may befall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If, freed of thee, and charter'd to myself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may undo the bonds that now enthrall.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xv.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>S</b></big></big></big>hall I do this? I shall; and thou shalt see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Signs of rebellion. I will turn to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And claim obedience. I will make it plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How many a link may go to form a chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each a circlet, each a ring to wear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will extract the sting from my despair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And toy therewith, as with a charmèd snake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, Lamia-like, uprears itself in air.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>r is my boast a vain, an empty one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shall I rue it ere the day is done?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will hope revive betimes? Or must I stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For evermore outside the fairyland<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy good will? Alas! my place is here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To muse and moan and sigh and shed my tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My paltry tear for one who loves me not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And would not mourn for me on my death-bier.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>h, get thee hence, thou harbinger of light!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That, like a dream, dost come to me at night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To haunt my sleep, and rob me of content,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So true-untrue, so deaf to my lament,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I must forego the pride I felt therein.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye, get thee hence! And I will crush the sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If sin it be, that prompts me, night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seek in thee the bliss I cannot win.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xviii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>r, if thou needs must haunt me after dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come when I wake. The oriole and the lark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are friends of thine; and oft, I know, the thrush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has trill'd of thee at morn and even-blush.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flowers have made confessions unto me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At which I marvel; for they rail at thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And call thee heartless in thy seemlihood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though queen-elect of all the flowers that be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>N</b></big></big></big>ay, heed me not! I rave; I am possess'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By utmost longing. I am sore oppress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thoughts of woe; and in my heart I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A something keener than the touch of steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if, to-day, a danger unforeseen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had track'd thy path,—as if my prayers had been<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Misjudged in Heaven, or drown'd in demon-shouts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the boundaries of the coasts terrene.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xx.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>B</b></big></big></big>ut this is clear; this much at least is true:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am thine own! I doat upon the blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy kind eyes, well knowing that in these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are proofs of God; and down upon my knees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fall subservient, as a man in shame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May own a fault; albeit, as with a flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I burn all day, abash'd and unforgiven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all unfit to touch the hand I claim!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 175px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-063.png" width="175" height="158" +alt="birds" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 319px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-064.png" width="319" height="350" +alt="fairy with flowers" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +<a name="Fifth_Litany" id="Fifth_Litany"></a> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-065.png" width="600" height="398" +alt="salve regina" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-067.png" width="600" height="419" +alt="fifth banner" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<h4>i.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>G</b></big></big></big>lory to thee, my Queen! whom far away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts aspire to,—as the birds of May<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aspire o' mornings,—as in lonely nooks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gurgling murmurs of neglected brooks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aspire to moonlight,—aye! as earth aspires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When through the East, alert with wild desires,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rapturous sun surveys the welkin's height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flecks the world with witcheries of his fires.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>h, I should curb my grief. I should entone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No plaint to thee; no loss should I bemoan!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should be patient, I, though full of care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not attempt, by bias of a prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sway thy spirit, or to urge anew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A claim contested. For my days are few;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My days, I think, are few upon the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since I must shun the joys I would pursue.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> am not worthy of the Heaven I name<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I name thee; and yet to win the same<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is still my dream. I strive as best I can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live uprightly on the vaunted plan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of old-world sages. But I strive not well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thoughts conflicting which I cannot quell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make me despondent; and I quake thereat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As at the shuddering of a doomsday bell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>o die for thee were more than my desert;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To live for thee to keep thee out of hurt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like a slave, to wait upon thy will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were more than fame. And lo! I nourish still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sense of calm to feel that thou, at least,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art sorrow-free and honor'd at the feast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which Nature spreads for all contented minds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that for thee its splendours have increased.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>v.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> stand alone. I stand beneath the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I guess their thoughts; I hear them to the breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say tender nothings; and I dream the while<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy white arms, and thy remember'd smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, in a spot like this, a year a-gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw thee stoop to pluck from off the lawn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wounded bird that peer'd into thy face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if it took thee for the nymph of dawn!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>h, can it be, as friends of thine affirm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That thou'rt a fairy,—that, from term to term,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Month after month, belov'd of all good things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou'rt seen in forests and in meadow rings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Girt for the dance? or like an Oread queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Array'd for council? For the woods convene<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their dryad forces when the nights are clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nymphs and fawns carouse upon the green.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>he crescent moon, the Argosy of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Veers for the west across the Pleïads seven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, out beyond the ridge of Charles's Wain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seems to come to mooring on the main<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that deep sky, as if awaiting there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An angel-guest with sunlight in her hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A seraph's cousin, or the foster-child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some centurion of the upper air.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>viii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>s it thy soul? Has Cynthia call'd for thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In her white boat, to take thee o'er the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where suns and stars and constellations bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are isles of glory,—where a seraph's right<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surpasses mine, and makes me seem indeed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A base intruder, with a coward's creed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And not an angel's, though a Christian born<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pledged alwàys to serve thee at thy need?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>hou'rt sleeping now; and in thy snowy rest,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In that seclusion which is like a nest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For blameless human maids beheld of those<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who come from God,—thou hast in thy repose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No thought of me,—no thought of pairing-time.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou'rt the sworn opponent of the rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That lovers make in kissing; and anon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My very love will vex thee like a crime.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>x.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>B</b></big></big></big>ut day and night, and winter-tide and spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Change at thy voice; and when I hear thee sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know 'tis May; and when I see thy face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know 'tis Summer. Thou'rt the youngest Grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the Muses praise thee evermore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there are birds who name thee as they soar;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And some of these,—the best and brightest ones,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have guess'd the pangs that pierce me to the core.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xi.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>hou art the month of May with all its nights<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all its days transfigured in the lights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love-lit smiles and glances multiform;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like a lark that sings above a storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy voice o'er-rides the tumult of my mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, give me back the peace I strove to find<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In my last prayer, and I'll believe that Hope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will dry anon the tears that make it blind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>here's none like thee, not one in all the world;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No face so fair, no smile so sweet-impearl'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no such music on the hills and plains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thy young voice whereof the thrill remains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For hours and hours,—belike to keep alive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sense of beauty that the flowers may thrive.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or is't thy wish that birds should fly to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the days of April's quest arrive?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>hou'rt noble-natured; and there's none to stand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So meek as thou, or with so dear a hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ward off wrong. For Psyche of the Greeks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is dead and gone; and Eros with his freaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has bow'd to thee, and turn'd aside, for shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His useless shaft, not daring to proclaim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His amorous laws, and thou so maiden-coy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the halo of thy spotless name!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>B</b></big></big></big>ut dreams are idle, and I must forget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All that they tend to. I must cease to fret,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moth as I am, for stars beyond the reach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of mine up-soaring; and in milder speech<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I must invoke thy blessing on the road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lies before me,—far from thine abode,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And far from all persuasion that again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt accept the terms of my love-code.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xv.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big> Sweet! forgive me that from day to day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I dream such dreams, and teach me how to sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fluttering self, that, in forsaken hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may be valiant, and eschew the powers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of death and doubt! I need the certitude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thine esteem that I may check the feud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of mine own thoughts that rend and anger me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because denied the boon for which I sued.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>each me to wait with patience for a word,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And be the sight of thee no more deferr'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than one up-rising of the vesper star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That waits on Dian when, supreme, afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She eyes the sunset. And of this be sure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I'm a man and thou a maid demure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou shalt be ta'en aside and wonder'd at,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the gloaming leaves the land obscure.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>hou shalt be bow'd to as we bow to saints<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In window'd shrines; and, far from all attaints<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of ribald passion, thou, as seemeth good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt smile serenely in thy virginhood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shall I know, of mine own poor accord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which thing in all the world is best to hoard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or which is worst of all the things that slay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A woman's beauty or a soldier's sword.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xviii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> grieve in sleep. I pine away at night.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I wake, uncared for, in the morning light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, hour by hour, I marvel that for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wandering wind should make its minstrelsy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sweet and calm. I marvel that the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So round and red, with all his hair undone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should smile at me and yet begrudge me still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sight of thee that art my worshipp'd one!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> count my moments as a cloister'd man<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May count his beads; and through the weary span<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of each long day I peer into my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For hints of comfort; and I find, in part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A self-committal, and a glimpse withal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some new menace in the rise and fall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of days and nights that are the test of Time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though Fate would make a mockery of them all.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xx.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>here's a disaster worse than loss of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Worse than remorse, and worse a thousand-fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than pangs of hunger. 'Tis the thirst of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rage and rapture of the ravening dove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We name Desire. Ah, pardon! I offend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fervor blinds me to the withering end<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of all good council, and, accurst thereby,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I vaunt anew the faults I cannot mend.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 126px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-077.png" width="126" height="175" +alt="wild flowers 2" title="" /></div><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 332px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-078.png" width="332" height="350" +alt="cherubs dancing" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +<a name="Sixth_Litany" id="Sixth_Litany"></a> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-079.png" width="600" height="371" +alt="benedicta tu" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-081.png" width="600" height="405" +alt="sixth banner" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<h4>i.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> tell thee Sweet! there lives not on the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A love like mine in all the height and girth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the vast completion of the sphere.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should be proud, to-day, to shed a tear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I could weep. But tears are most denied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When most besought; and joys are sanctified<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By joys' undoing in this world of ours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From dusk to dawn and dawn to eventide.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>W</b></big></big></big>ert thou a marble maid and I endow'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With power to move thee from thy seeming shroud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of frozen splendour,—all thy whiteness mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the glamour, all the tender shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy glad eyes,—ah God! if this were so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I the loosener, in the summer-glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of thy long tresses! I were licensed then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gaze, unchidden, on thy limbs of snow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> would prepare for thee a holy niche<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In some new temple, and with draperies rich,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flowers and lamps and incense of the best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would with something of mine own unrest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Imbue thy blood and prompt thee to be just.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would endow thee with a fairer trust<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than mere contentment, and a dearer joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than mere revulsion from the sins of dust.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big> band of boys, with psaltery and with lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Cyprian girls, the slaves of thy desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would chant and pray and raise so wild a storm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of golden notes around thy sculptured form<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That saints would hear the chorus up in Heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And intermingle with their holy steven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sighs of earth, and long for other cares<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than those ordain'd them by the Lord's Eleven.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>v.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> would approach thee with a master's tread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And claim thy hand and have the service read<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By youthful priests resplendent every one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in thy frame the blood of thee would run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As warm and sound as wine of Syracuse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all that day the birds would bear the news<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In far directions, and the meadow-flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would dream thereof, love-laden, in the dews.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>hen, by magnetic force,—the greatest known<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This side the tomb,—I would athwart the stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy white body, in a trice of time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call forth thy soul, and woo thee to the chime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tinkling bells, and make thee half afraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And half aggrieved, to find thyself array'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In such enthralment, and in such attire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sight of one whose will should not be stay'd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>nd, like Pygmalion, I would claim anon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A bride's submission; and my talk thereon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would not perplex thee; for the sense of life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would warm thy heart, and urge thee to the strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of lip with lip, and kiss with pulsing kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which gives the clue to all we know of bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all we know of heights we long to climb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the boundaries of the grave's abyss.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>viii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>he dear old deeds chivàlrous once again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would find fulfilment; and the curse of Cain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which fell on woman, as on men it fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would fly from us, as at a sorcerer's spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave us wiser than the sophists are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who love not folly. Night should not debar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor day dissuade us, from those ecstacies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That have Anacreon's fame for guiding-star.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>ye! thou wouldst kneel and seek in me apace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A transient shelter for thine amorous face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which then I'd screen; and thou to me wouldst turn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With awe-struck eyes, and cling to me and yearn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sighs full tender and a touch of fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like a bird which knows that spring is near,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, after spring, the summer of sweet days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wouldst attune thy love-notes in mine ear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>x.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>r, fraught with feelings near akin to hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou wouldst denounce me; and, like one elate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wouldst entwine me in thine arms so white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As soldier-nymphs, with rapt and raging sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made war with spearsmen in the vales of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vales of Sparta where, for right or wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gods were potent, and, for beauty's sake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upheld the tourneys of the fair and strong.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xi.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> would not seem too wilful in the heat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of our encounter, or with sighs repeat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too fierce a vow. I would throughout confess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy murderous mirth, thy conquering loveliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then subdue thee! Tears would not avail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor prayer, nor praise; and, flush'd the while or pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou shouldst be mine, my hostage in the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without the option of a moment's bail.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>hou shouldst be mine! My hopes, from first to last,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would win their way; and, lithe and love-aghast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all unnerv'd, thou wouldst, as in a dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entreat my pardon! I would callous seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thine out-yearning. I would cast on thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A questioning look, and then, upon my knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would surrender to that face of thine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is the great world's wonder unto me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big> Heaven! could this be done, and I fulfil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One half my wish, and curb thee to my will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I were a prompter and a prouder man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than earth has known since light-foot lovers ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Atalanta, lov'd of men and boys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I were a kaiser then, a king of joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fit to play with high-begotten pomps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As children play with pebbles or with toys.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big> Golden Hair! O Gladness of an Hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Made flesh and blood! O beauteous Human Flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too sweet to pluck, and yet, though seeming-cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ordain'd to love! I pray thee, as of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be kind to me. I saw thee yesternight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for an instant I was urged to plight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My troth again; for in thy face I saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What seem'd a smile evoked for my delight.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xv.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>R</b></big></big></big>e-grant thy favour! Take me by the hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lead me back again to thine own land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nook supreme, the sanctum in the glen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where pixies walk,—unknown to peevish men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shrew-like women whom no faith uplifts!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Show me the place where Nature keeps the gifts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She most approves, and where the song-birds dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'll forego the land of little thrifts.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>he moon is mother and the sun is sire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of those young planets which, with infant fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have late been found in regions too remote<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For quicklier search; and these, in time, will dote<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whirl and wanton in the realms of space.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there are comets in the nightly chase<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who see strange things untalk'd of by the bards;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And earth herself has found a trysting-place.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>nd so 'tis clear that sun and moon and stars<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are link'd by love! The marriage-feast of Mars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was fixt long since. 'Tis Venus whom he weds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis she alone for whom he gaily treads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His path of splendour; and of Saturn's ring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knows the symbol, and will have, in spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A night-betrothal, near the Southern Cross;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the stars will pause thereat and sing.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xviii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>W</b></big></big></big>hat wonder, then, what wonder if to-day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I, too, assert my right, in roundelay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To talk of rings and posies and the vows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wait on marriage? 'Tis the wild carouse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of soul with soul athwart the sense of touch.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis this uplifts us when, with fever-clutch,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The world would claim us; and our hopes revive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In spite of fears that daunt us over-much.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>L</b></big></big></big>ips may be coy; but eyes are quick, at times,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To note the throbbings that are hot as crimes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fond as flutterings of the wings of doves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he is blind indeed who, when he loves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doubts all he sees:—the flickering of a smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Parthian glance, the nod that, for a while,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Outbids Elysium, and is half a jest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And half a truth, to tempt us and beguile.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xx.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>hine eyes have told me things I dare not speak;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I will trust the track they bid me seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, though it lead me to the gates of death!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind is labouring:—it is out of breath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Belike for scampering up the hill so fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To say all's well with thee; and, down the blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I seem to hear the sounds of serenades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That swell from out the song-fields of the past.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 147px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-091.png" width="147" height="175" +alt="wheat ears" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-092.png" width="400" height="309" +alt="cherubs and trumpet" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +<a name="Seventh_Litany" id="Seventh_Litany"></a> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-093.png" width="600" height="389" +alt="stella matutina" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-095.png" width="600" height="375" +alt="seventh banner" title="" /></div> + +<h4>i.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>rise, fair Phœoelig;bus! and with looks serene<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Survey the world which late the orbèd Queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did pave with pearl to please enamour'd swains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arise! Arise! The Dark is bound in chains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou'rt immortal, and thy throne is here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sway the seasons, and to make it clear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How much we need thee, O thou silent god!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That art the crown'd controller of the year.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>nd while the breezes re-construct for thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shimmering clouds; and while, from lea to lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The great earth reddens with a maid's delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold! I bring to thee, as yesternight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My subject song. Do thou protect apace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My peerless one, my Peri with the face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That is a marvel to the minds of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like a flower for humbleness of grace.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>he earth which loves thee, or I much have err'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The glad, green earth which waits, as for a word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sound of thee, up-shuddering through the morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The restive earth is pleased when Day is born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon will take each separate silent beam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As proof of sex,—exulting in the dream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of joys to come, and quicken'd and convuls'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Year after year, by love's triumphant theme.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big> thousand times the flowers in all the fields<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will bow to thee; and with their little shields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The daisy-folk will muster on the plain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand songs the birds will sing again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As sweet to hear as quiverings of a lute;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she I love will sing, for thy repute,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full many a song. She sings when she but speaks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when she's near the birds should all be mute.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>v.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big> my Belovèd! from thy curtain'd bed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arise, rejoice, uplift thy golden head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be an instant, while I muse on this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As nude as statues, and as good to kiss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As dear St. Agnes when she met her death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unclad and pure and patient of her breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with the grace of God for wedding-gown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As many an ancient story witnesseth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>he bath, the plunge, the combing of the hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All this I view,—a sight beyond compare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since Daphne died in all the varied charms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her chaste body,—rounded regal arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shape supreme, too fair for human gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not too fair to win the mirror's praise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That throbs to see thee in thy déshabille<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loves thee well through all the nights and days.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> see thee thus in fancy, as in books<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A man may see the naïads of the brooks;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one entranced by potions aptly given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May see the angels where they walk in Heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may not greet them in their high estate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For who shall guess the riddle wrought of Fate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till he be dead? And who that lives a span<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall thwart the Future where it lies in wait?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>viii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>nd now to-day a word I dare not write<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Starts to my lips, as when a baffled knight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witholds a song which fain he would repeat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For lo! the sense thereof is passing sweet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like a cup that's full, my heart is fill'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With new desires and quiverings new-distill'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From old delights; and all my pulses throb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As at the touch of dreams divinely-will'd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>W</b></big></big></big>ho talks of comfort when he sees thee not<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And feels no fragrance of the happy lot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which violets feel, when call'd upon to lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thy white breast? And who with amorous eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks at the dear tomb of the shuddering flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The two-fold tomb where daintily for hours<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They droop and muse,—who looks, I say, at these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And will not own the witchery of thy powers?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>x.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>W</b></big></big></big>ho speaks of glory and the force of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou not near, my maiden-minded dove!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the coyness, all the beauty-sheen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy rapt face? A fearless virgin-queen,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A queen of peace art thou,—and on thy head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden light of all thy hair is shed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Most nimbus-like and most suggestive, too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of youthful saints enshrined and garlanded.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xi.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>hou'rt Nature's own; and when a word of thine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rings on the air, and when the Voice Divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We call the lark upfloats amid the blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not which is which, for both are true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both meant for Heaven, though foster'd here below.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the silences around me flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I think of lilies and the face of thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which hath compell'd my manhood's overthrow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big> blue-eyed Rapture with the radiant locks!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O thou for whom, athwart the fever-shocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life and death and misery and much sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd sell salvation! There's a prize to win<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou'rt its voucher; there's a wonder-prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unknown till now beneath the vaulted skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou'rt its symbol; thou'rt its essence fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its full completion form'd adoring-wise!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>Y</b></big></big></big>es, I will tell thee how I love thee best,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all my thoughts of thee shall be confess'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And none withheld, not e'en the witless one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which late I harbor'd when the mounting sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burst from a cloud,—the moon a mile away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if in hiding from the lord of day,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if, at times, the moon were like thyself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fear'd the semblance of a master's sway.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> love thee dearly when thine eyes are dim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With unshed tears; for then they seem to swim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In liquid blessedness, and unto me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There comes the memory of a god's decree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which said of old:—"Be all men evermore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All men and maids whose hearts are passion-sore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Acclaim'd in Heaven!" and all day long I muse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On hope's divine and deathless prophet-lore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xv.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> love thee when the soft endearing flush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Invades thy face, and dimples in the blush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bespeak attention,—as a rose's pout<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Absorbs the stillness when the sun is out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the air retains the glow thereof.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the world there is not light enough<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor sheen enough, all day, nor any warmth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till thou be near me, arm'd with some rebuff!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>xvi.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>nd how I love thee when thy startled eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look out at me, enrapt in that surprise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which marks an epoch in the life I lead,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if they guess'd the scope of Eros' creed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the mirth and malice of his wiles.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For it is wondrous when my Lady smiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all the ground is holy where she treads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the air is thrill'd for many miles!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>n every mood of thine thou art my joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, day by day, to shield thee from annoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd do the deeds that slaves were bound unto<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With stabs for payment,—shuddering through and through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With their much labour; and I'd deem it grand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To die for thee if, after touch of hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I might but kiss thee as a lover doth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I should then be king of all the land.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xviii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>B</b></big></big></big>ut Father Time, old Time with Janus-face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Looks o'er the sphere, and sees no fitting place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thine acceptance; for the thrones of earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are much too mean, and in thy maiden worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou'rt crown'd enough, and throned in very sooth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than the queens who lord it in their youth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er men's convictions; and He names thy name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one belov'd of Nature and of Truth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>H</b></big></big></big>e sees the nights, he sees the veering days,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sweet spring season with its hymn of praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The summer, frondage-proud, the autumn pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winter worn with withering of the gale,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All this he sees; and now, to-day, in June,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, too, recalls that rapturous afternoon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When all the fields and flowers were like a dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the winds the offshoot of a tune.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xx.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>S</b></big></big></big>o I will cease to clamour for the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And seek suspension of my doubts at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some new way till Fate becomes my friend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will re-gain the right to re-defend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love I bear to thee, for good or ill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For though, 'tis said, our griefs have power to kill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mine let me live, in mine unworthiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, spurn'd of thee, my lips may praise thee still!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 128px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-105.png" width="128" height="200" +alt="wild flowers 3" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-106.png" width="400" height="192" +alt="cherubs with boat" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +<a name="Eighth_Litany" id="Eighth_Litany"></a> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-107.png" width="600" height="397" +alt="domina exaudi" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-109.png" width="600" height="404" +alt="eighth banner" title="" /></div> + +<p>i.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>t seems a year, and more, since last we met,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since roseate spring repaid, in part, its debt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thy bright eyes, and o'er the lowlands fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made daffodils so like thy golden hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I, poor wretch, have kiss'd them on my knees!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forget-Me-Nots peep out beneath the trees<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So like thine eyes that I have question'd them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thought thee near, though viewless on the breeze.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>t seems a year; and yet, when all is told,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis but a week since I was re-enroll'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among thy friends. How fairy-like the scene!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How gay with lamps! How fraught with tender sheen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life and languor! I was thine alone:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alert for thee,—intent to catch the tone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of thy sweet voice,—and proud to be alive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To call to heart a peace for ever flown.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>H</b></big></big></big>ad I not vext thee, as a monk in prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May vex a saint by musing, unaware,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On evil things? A saint is hard to move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And quick to chide, and slow,—as I can prove,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To do what's just; and yet, in thy despite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We met again, we too, at dead of night;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I was hopeful in my love of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou superb, and matchless, in the light.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> felt distraught from gazing over-much<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At thy great beauty; and I fear'd to touch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dainty hand which Envy's self hath praised.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear'd to greet thee; and my soul was dazed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And self-convicted in its new design;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I was mad to hope to call thee mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aye! mad as he who claims a Virgin's love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because his lips have praised her at a shrine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>v.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> saw thee there in all the proud array<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of thy young charms,—as if a summer's day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had leapt to life and made itself a queen,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if the sylphs, remembering what had been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had mission'd thee, from out the world's romance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stir my pulse, and thrill me with a glance:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And once again, allow'd, though undesired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I did become thy partner in the dance.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>vi.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> bow'd to thee. I drew thee to my side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As one may seize a wrestler in his pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To try conclusions,—and I felt the rush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my heart's blood suffuse me in a blush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That told its tale. But what my tongue would tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was spent in sighs, as o'er my spirit fell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The silvery cadence of thy lips' assent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every look o'er-ruled me like a spell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big> devil's joy of dancing, when a tune<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Speeds us to Heaven, and night is at the noon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all its frolic, all its wild desire!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O thrall of rapt illusions when we tire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of coy reserve, and all the moments pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As pass the visions in a magic glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And every step is shod with ecstacy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every smile is fleck'd with some Alas!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>viii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>W</b></big></big></big>as it a moment or a merry span<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of years uncounted when convulsion ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right through the veins of me, to make me blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet accurst, in that revolving quest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Known as a waltz,—if waltz indeed it were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not a fluttering dream of gauze and vair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And languorous eyes? I scarce can muse thereon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without a pang too sweet for me to bear!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>B</b></big></big></big>y right of music, for a fleeting term,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mine arms enwound thee and I held thee firm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There on my breast,—so near, yet so remote,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So close about me that I seem'd to float<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sunlit rapture,—touch'd I know not how<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By some suggestion of a deeper vow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than men are 'ware of when, on Glory's track,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They kneel to angels with uplifted brow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>x.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>nd lo! abash'd, I do recall to mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All that is past:—the yearning undefined,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The baulk'd confession that was like a sob—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sound of singing and the gurgling throb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of lute and viol,—meant for many things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But most for misery; and a something clings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Close to my heart that is not wantonness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though, wanton-like, it warms me while it stings.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xi.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>he night returns,—that night of all the nights!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I am dower'd anew with such delights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As memory feeds on; for I walk'd with thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In moonlit gardens, and there flew to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flower-like moth, a pinion'd daffodil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Nature's hand; and, out beyond the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There rose a star I joy'd to look upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because it seem'd the star of thy good will.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>W</b></big></big></big>e sat beneath the trees, as well thou know'st,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within an arbour which a summer's boast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had made ambrosial; and we loiter'd there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some little space, the while upon the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uprose the fragrance of uncounted flowers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah me! how weird a tryste was that of ours!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And how the moon look'd down, so lurid-warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Athwart the stillness of the frondage-towers!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> seem'd to feel thy breath upon my cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I vainly searched for words I long'd to speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But could not utter lest the sound thereof<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should scare away the elves that wait on love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I spoke to thee 'twas of the spot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where we were seated,—things that matter'd not,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Uncared for things,—the weather,—the new laws!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, sudden-loud, the wind assail'd the grot.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big> little bird was warbling overhead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if to twit me with the word unsaid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which he, more daring, when the sun was high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trill'd to his mate! He knew the tender "why"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of many a pleading, and he knew, meseems,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very key-note to the lyric dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of all true poets when, by love impell'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They search the secrets of the woods and streams.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xv.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>'T</b></big></big></big>is sure that summer, when she rear'd the bower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And arched the roof and gave it all the dower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all its leaves, and all the crannies small<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where wrens look through,—'tis sure that, after all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Summer was kind, and meant to make for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shriving-place,—a lighthouse on the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of all that verdure,—that, beneath the stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I might receive one quickening glance from thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>h! had I dared to whisper in thine ear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart-full wish, undaunted by the fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some rebuke:—a flush of thy fair face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lifted hand to tell me that the place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was fairy-fenced, and guarded as by flame,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! had I dared to court the word of blame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That's good for me, no doubt! at every turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life to-day were chasten'd by the same.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>B</b></big></big></big>ut I was conscious of a sudden ban<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hurl'd from the zenith. I was like the man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who scaled Olympus, with intent to bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New fire therefrom, and dared not face the King<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thought and thunder. I was full prepared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thy displeasure,—for the past was bared<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To mine on-looking; and, with faltering tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I left my languorous meanings undeclared.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xviii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big> lost Occasion! what a thing art thou:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A three-fold key,—the when, the where, the how,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The past, the present and the future tense,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All thrown aside. For what? A witless sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some compunction! When the hour is bold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reason is shy, and rapture, seeming-cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Makes mute surrender of its dearest chance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all for fear of doubts that might be told.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>B</b></big></big></big>ut could we meet, oh! could we meet again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On some such night, unseen upon the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd rob thee, Lady! of a tardy smile.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would do this; and, for a breathing-while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would assert a sinner's right to pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sinner's right to choose, as best he may,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His patron-saint; and I would kneel to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And call thee mine, and dote on thee for aye!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>xx.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big>nd then in summer, when the hours are mad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all the flow'rets in the fields are glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the breezes, like demented things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outspeed the birds with sunlight on their wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In summer, aye! in summer's gracious time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I might perchance be pardon'd for the crime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of my much love, and win thy benison<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere yet the year has reached its golden prime!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 175px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-119.png" width="175" height="170" +alt="leaves" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 365px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-120.png" width="365" height="375" +alt="cherub reading" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +<a name="Ninth_Litany" id="Ninth_Litany"></a> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-121.png" width="600" height="369" +alt="lilium inter spinas" title="" /></div> +<br /> + + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-123.png" width="600" height="429" +alt="ninth banner" title="" /></div> + +<h4>i.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>D</b></big></big></big>earest and best of maidens, whom the Fates<br /></span> +<span class="i2">have dower'd with beauty, whom the glory-gates<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have shown so splendid in my waking sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is't well, thou syren! thus to haunt the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And grant no mercy, none from week to week<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All through the year? Is't well my soul to seek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shun my body? Is't throughout ordain'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou shouldst spurn a love so tender-meek?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>t is my joy to serve thee, 'tis my pride<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To own my follies, though anew denied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chance of wisdom, and for this, who knows?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall be counted, ere the season's close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A time-perverter. Yes! I shall be shamed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And frown'd upon, and day by day proclaim'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A foe to virtue, though, in seeking thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seek the goal that Virtue's self hath named.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big> Lily mine! O Lily tipp'd with gold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And welkin-eyed for angels to behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When down on earth! Is't well to stand apart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gaze at me and gently break my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without one word? Is't well to seem alwày<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So grieved to see me, when, at fall of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou dost accept the reverence of mine eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not the homage that my lips would pay?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>h, give me back again, at midnight hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As in the circuit of that starlit bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The right to talk with thee, and be thy friend,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The right, in some wild way, to make an end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my submission, or to re-bestow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My troth on thee,—despite the overthrow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of all my dreams, that were my constant care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though less to thee than flakes of alien snow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>v.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> will unveil my meanings one by one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And tell thee why the bird that loves the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loves not the moon, though conscious of her fame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he's the soul of truth, in his acclaim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And knows not treason! And of like intent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are all my yearnings, too, when I lament.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, though I say it, there's no troubadour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has lov'd as I, since Cupid's bow was bent.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> have been wed in sleep, and thou hast been<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mine own true bride,—the swooning summer-queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my heart-throbs. I have been wed in jest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have been taken wildly to thy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then repell'd, and made to feel the ire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of eager eyes that have the strange desire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To rack my soul, a-tremble in the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not the will to aid me to aspire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> should have died the instant that I heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy whisper'd vow in slumber,—when a word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made me thy master, for I did receive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy full surrender, and I'll not believe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all was false; or that my dreaming-power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was given for nought. The Future may devour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The facts of earth, but not its phantasies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not the dreams we dream from hour to hour.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>viii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big>h, thou'lt confess that love from man to maid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is more than kingdoms,—more than light and shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sky-built gardens where the minstrels dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And more than ransom from the bonds of Hell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt, I say, admit the truth of this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And half relent that, shrinking from a kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou didst consign me to mine own disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Athwart the raptures of a vision'd bliss.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>'ll seek no joy that is not link'd with thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No touch of hope, no taste of holy wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, after death, no home in any star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is not shared by thee, supreme, afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As here thou'rt first and foremost of all things!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glory is thine and gladness and the wings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wait on thought when, in thy spirit-sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou dost invest a realm unknown to kings.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>x.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> will accept of thee a poison-bowl<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And drink the dregs thereof,—aye! to the soul,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sound thy praises with my latest breath!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was a pilgrim bound for Nazareth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when I knew thee, when I touched thy hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I changed my purpose; and to-day I stand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thine amorous vassal, though denounced afresh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And warn'd away, unkiss'd, from Edenland.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xi.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big> flower unequall'd here from morn to morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is't well, bethink thee, with a rose's thorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To deck thyself, thou lily! and to seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So irresponsive to my passion-dream?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is't a caprice of thine to look so proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so severe, athwart the shining cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of thy long hair? And shall I never learn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How least to grieve thee when my vows are vow'd?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>he full perfection of thy face is such<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That, like a child's, it seems to know the touch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some glad hour that God has smiled upon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a whiteness whiter than the swan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A singing sweeter than the linnet's note.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there is nothing whiter than thy throat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nothing sweeter than thy tender voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, love-attuned, it skyward seems to float.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>L</b></big></big></big>ily and rose in one! To find thy peer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Exceeds belief, all through the varying year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For chance thereof, and hope thereof, is none.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There comes no rival to the rising sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And none to thee!—no rival to the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sets in Venice on the far lagoon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And none to thee, thou marvel of the months,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That art the cynosure of night and noon!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>Y</b></big></big></big>es, I will hope. I will not cease to turn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts to thee, and cry to thee, and yearn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one in Hell may lift enamour'd eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To some sweet soul beyond the central skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose face has slain him! For 'tis true, I swear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have been murder'd by thy golden hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And by the brightness of those fringèd orbs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That are at once my joy and my despair.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xv.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>W</b></big></big></big>inter is wild; but spring will come again;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For there's compunction in the fever-pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That earth endures when, clamorous down the steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind out-blows the curse it cannot keep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so, belike, thy scorn of me may change<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To something fairer than the fated range<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of dole, and doubt, and pity, and reproof;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then my sighs may cease to seem so strange.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>F</b></big></big></big>or thou and I will meet and not be foes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'en as the rue may stand beside the rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not affront it,—as a lonely tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May guard a shrine and not upon the lea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be deem'd obtrusive,—as an errant knight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May serve the sovereign of his soul's delight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And not, thereby, be deem'd of less account<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than he who keeps her daily in his sight.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>R</b></big></big></big>eject me not that in the world of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Among the wielders of the sword and pen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have, as 'twere, detractors by the score,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reject me not for faults that I deplore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fain would alter,—though, if I were wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd blunt the edge thereof in some disguise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Approved of thee! For I've a kind of hope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we'll be friends again ere summer dies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xviii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>f this be true I'll greet thee with such fire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That thou wilt throb thereat, as throbs a lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And give thine answer, too, without restraint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And neither frown at me nor fear a taint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my much zeal, that knows not any pause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, night and day, is constant to the laws<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of its own making, and is fain to prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How leagued it is throughout to Honor's cause.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> will conceal from thee no thought of mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All will be clear as signing of a sign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On marriage-scrips; and, though I tell thee so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seas and streams of earth shall cease to flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere thou shalt find, in this world or the next,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A love so proud, a faith so firmly sex'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As this of mine. For thou'rt the polar star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which I turn as minstrel to his text.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>xx.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>B</b></big></big></big>ut woe's the hour! My heart is wounded sore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And soon may cease to take, as heretofore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such keen delight in tears that comfort not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But evermore do seem to leave a blot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On sorrow's teaching! Shall I muse thereon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One season more, till hope and faith be gone?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or must I look for comfort up in Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then be slain by thee as night by dawn?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 149px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-133.png" width="149" height="175" +alt="flower buds" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-134.png" width="400" height="292" +alt="cherubs playing music" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +<a name="Tenth_Litany" id="Tenth_Litany"></a> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-135.png" width="600" height="349" +alt="gloria in excelsis" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-137.png" width="600" height="409" +alt="tenth banner" title="" /></div> + +<h4>i.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>O</b></big></big></big> Love! O Lustre of the sunlit earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That knows thy step and revels in the worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy much beauty! Is't thy will anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Famed as thou art, to marvel that I sue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such persistence, and in such unrest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the frenzies of my passion-quest?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wilt look ungently, and without a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On all the pangs I bear at thy behest?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>M</b></big></big></big>orning and eve I cease not, when I kneel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To my Redeemer for my spirit's weal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for my body's,—as becomes a man,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Morning and eve I cease not in the span<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all my days, O thou Unconquer'd One!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pray for thee, and do what may be done<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To re-acquire the friendship I have lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is the holiest thing beneath the sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>F</b></big></big></big>or what is fame that with so loud a voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'ersways the nations? What the random choice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sight and sound which makes the place we fill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fraught with good, so redolent of ill?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is the thunderstorm of yesternight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shook the clouds? And where the levin's blight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That spake of chaos and the Judgment Day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the wisdom of a king's delight?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>iv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>C</b></big></big></big>ould I be kiss'd of thee, or crown'd of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'd choose the kiss. I'd be ordainèd then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord of myself, and not the slave I seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To each new doubt. Our tryste was like a dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet 'twas true. For oft, by wonder-chance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We find the path to many a bright romance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And many a tilt and tourney of dear love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which the brave are vanquish'd by a glance.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>v.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>o lie alone with thee one little hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cling to thee as flower may cling to flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With no rough thought beyond the peace thereof,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be thy comrade, and to don and doff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little chain that hangs about thy neck,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To do all this, my Fair One! and to fleck<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thine eyes with kisses, were a righteous deed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not a thing for Love to hold in check.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>N</b></big></big></big>ay, there are dimples which I long to taste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And there's a girdle fit for Phœbe's waist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I would loosen; for I have the skill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To handle lilies; and, by Venus' will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd handle thee, and comfort thee therein.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For love's a sacrament I'd die to win,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And not a toy nor yet a subterfuge;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not a pitfall for the feet of sin.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>vii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>he searching suddenness of thy blue eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flash thereof, the fire that in them lies,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All this I yearn to,—all the soul of thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shown in thy looks, as though to solace me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some disaster portion'd out as mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thou abidest, where thy limbs recline,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where thou'rt absorb'd in silence or in prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There stands a throne, there gleams a fairy shrine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>viii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> am, indeed, more subject to thy sway<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than trees are subject, in their tender way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To earth's great king revolving round the sphere.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am thy suffering servant all the year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I wake thy name is on my lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I sleep I feel thy finger-tips<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Press'd on mine eyes, as if thy wraith were there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To save my soul from night's entire eclipse.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>ill I have heard from thee my doom of death<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I shall be proud to serve thee with my breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with my labour, and be thine withal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Man is God's,—content with any thrall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's bound in thee; content with any lot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's link'd with thine, in some secluded spot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which thou hast lov'd, O Lady! in the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where remorse and wrong will find us not.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>x.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>o know thee fair, ah God! how sweet is this;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To find thee wavering, and to grasp in bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the dream of thee, how sad the while!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, by reason of a moment's smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How grand to hope, how gracious to forget!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou false to me? Thou heedless of a debt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of love's incurring? Nay, by Juno's crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy snow-white hand shall be my guerdon yet!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xi.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>he spirit-love that leads us to the soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Athwart the body as its fairest goal,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love that lives in languor undefined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet is strong,—the love that can be kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet aggressive as a soldier's blade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keen to the hilt, entranced and not afraid,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This is the love that will survive the death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all endowments which the years have made.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>W</b></big></big></big>ilt frown at this? Wilt chide me? Wilt appeal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As some are wont, when lovers, out of zeal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'erstep the bounds of wisdom which hath ceased<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To win men's praise? The Matins of the East<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sung by the lark,—the Credo of the Cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which oft he sings in confirmation proud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of his great love,—all this were mine excuse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I could sing as he, so dawn-endow'd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>F</b></big></big></big>or I'd be welcome, then, where'er thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gladden thee, and play as prompt a part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Romeo play'd with Juliet at his breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who loves not love, who hates to be caress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is Nature's bane; and I'll denounce him, too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he's a foe to all that's just and true<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In earth and Heaven; and when he seeks a joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His quest shall fail,—his hand shall miss the clue.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xiv.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>W</b></big></big></big>e know these things. We know how dark a word<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May let in light, and how the smallest bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May mix the morn with music till we think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fire-lit air is wine for us to drink,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every drop salvation,—every sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Muse's whisper,—all the flower-full ground<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A fancy-carpet fit for knights to tread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on their way to Arthur's Table Round.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xv.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>A</b></big></big></big> peevish fool is he who will not raise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His hands in prayer, among the danger-days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That come to all; for he, when waxen old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will search the past and find it callous-cold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the future, too, will freeze for him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shall he weep aright when tears bedim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His desperate, doleful eyes that know not faith;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he shall hear no chants of cherubim.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvi.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big> was bewitch'd of late! My soul had met<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some fearful doom; and there had dropt a threat,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A curse belike,—from lips of Atropos.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There had been done a deed of spirit-loss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which did o'erwhelm me as I paused thereat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now 'tis shunn'd; and where a Tremor sat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now sits a Hope; and where a gulf was seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now stands a mount as blest as Ararat.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xvii.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>T</b></big></big></big>he rose is silent, and the lily dumb<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Man alone. He sees them when they come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glad from the soil; but what they mean thereby,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what they dream of, when they front the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eludes his learning. But the birds can tell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moths talk to flowers; and breezes in the dell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hear more confessions than we men reveal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oaks and cedars love each other well.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xviii.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>I</b></big></big></big>n woodland places where the grass is lit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With lamp-like flowers, I seem to see thee flit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On azure wings, as if to bless the glade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, everywhere, thy form in shine and shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth come and go, conversant, as I deem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Nature's whims; for thou'rt of great esteem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In fairy haunts; and elves and fays confess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet thou art, my Love! and how supreme.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xix.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>D</b></big></big></big>iana's self was not more virgin-proud.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The maiden-moon, new-seated on a cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seems her throne where she receives the stars,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon who holds her court beyond the jars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of land and sea,—the moon, the vestal moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has kept thee cold since the transcendant noon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of that wild day when I thy hand did claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when thy lips refusèd me their boon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>xx.</h4> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><big><big><big><b>B</b></big></big></big>ut thoughts are free; and mine have found at last<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their apt solution; and, from out the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There seems to shine as 'twere a beacon-fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the land is lit with large desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of lambent glory; all the quivering sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is big with waves that wait the Morn's decree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As I, thy vassal, wait thy beckoning smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Athwart the splendors of my dreams of Thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/i-p-147.png" width="300" height="156" +alt="Amen!" title="" /></div> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> +<br /> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +This Litany was introduced in the Author's "Gladys the Singer," +published by Messrs. Reeves & Turner, London, 1887.</p></div> +<br /> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +<h4>THE LEADENHALL PRESS<br /> +LONDON, E. C<br /> +T 4,258.</h4> +<br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +<h1>Extracts from Field and Tuer's Book List.</h1> +<h3>The Leadenhall Press, 50, Leadenhall Street, E. C.</h3> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h4><i>Upwards of 300 Superb Illustrations (some beautifully hand-coloured.)</i></h4> + +<p><big><big><b>Kensington:</b></big></big> <span class="smcap">Picturesque and Historical</span>. By +W. J. Loftie, B.A., F.S.A., Author of "A History of +London," &c., &c. Illustrated by W. Luker, Jun., +from Original Drawings carefully finished on the spot +and engraved in Paris. LONDON: Field & Tuer, +The Leadenhall Press, E. C. </p> + +<p class="right">[£2 5s.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Since the publication of Faulkner's work in 1820, no history of Kensington +pretending to accuracy or completeness has been produced. +This work contains full and descriptive accounts of the parish +of Kensington and the adjoining Palace and Gardens, with the +changes and improvements of the past half century or more; notices +of Kensington celebrities and of the great national institutions +which have sprung up at Kensington Gore and Brompton Park; +and a fund of discursive matter of local and historical interest. +The engravings include artistic exteriors and interiors; glimpses +of Kensington Gardens; the Palace in which the Queen was born; +the park; the people, streets, houses, churches, and ruins; and +pretty, quaint, and taking "bits" of Kensington scenery. All the +drawings have been engraved in Paris in the finest possible manner, +and the paper on which they are printed has been specially manufactured +of a quality to ensure the delicacy of the originals being +fully retained.</p> + +<p>For the curious a few PROOF copies of KENSINGTON: <span class="smcap">Picturesque +And Historical</span> at five guineas, bound in full morocco, have +painted in water-colours on the front, under the gilt edges of the +leaves, a couple of Kensington views, which until the leaves are +bent back at an angle, are invisible.</p></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +<p><b>In the Press.]</b></p> + +<p><big><big><b>Through England on a Side-saddle</b></big></big> +in the Time of William and Mary: being the Diary +of Celia Fiennes. With an explanatory Introduction +by The Hon. Mrs. Griffiths. LONDON: Field & +Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E. C.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><b>In the Press.]</b></p> + +<p><big><big><b>Tales from the Lands of Nuts and</b></big></big> +Grapes: (Spanish & Portuguese Folklore). By Charles +Sellers. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall +Press, E. C.</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>2s. 6d.</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><big><big><b>People we Meet:</b></big></big> By F. Rideal. Illustrated by +Harry Parkes. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The +Leadenhall Press, E. C.</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>One Shilling.</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><big><big><b>The Baglioni:</b></big></big> A <span class="smcap">Tragedy</span>. By Fairfax L. +Cartwright. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall +Press, E. C.</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Three-and-Sixpence.</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +<p><b>In the Press.]</b></p> + +<p><big><big><b>The Bairns' Annual</b></big></big> (for 1888-9) of Old-Fashioned +Tales. Edited by Alice Corkran. Illustrated +with a large number of original wooden blocks. +LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E. C.</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>One Shilling.</i></p> + +<p><small>A delightful <i>mélange</i> of the old-fashioned fairy tales that +delighted our grand-parents when bairns.</small></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><big><big><b>A Season in Egypt:</b></big></big> By W. M. Flinders Petrie. +Illustrated. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall +Press, E. C.</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>12s.</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><big><big><b>A Book of Jousts:</b></big></big> Edited by James M. Lowry, +Author of "The Keys at Home," &c. LONDON: +Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E. C.</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>One Shilling.</i></p> + +<p><small>..."exceedingly clever humorous verses...we have not often +seen a brighter little volume of its kind." <i>Manchester Examiner.</i></small></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><big><big><b>The Grievances between Authors</b></big></big> +and Publishers, being the report of the Conferences +of the Incorporated Society of Authors held in Willis's +Rooms, in March, 1887, with Additional Matter and +Summary. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall +Press, E. C.</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Two Shillings.</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +<p><big><big><b>Sonnets:</b></big></big> (Revised and Enlarged Edition.) By +Emily Pfeiffer, Author of "Gerard's Monument," +"Under the Aspens," "The Rhyme of the Lady +of the Rock," "Flying Leaves from East and West," +&c., &c., LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall +Press, E. C.</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Six Shillings</i>.</p> + +<p><small>"They are, to our mind, among the finest in the language."—<i>Spectator</i>.</small></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><big><big><b>The Signs of Old Lombard Street:</b></big></big> +By F. G. Hilton Price, F.S.A., with Sixty full-page 4to. +Illustrations by James West. LONDON: Field and +Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E. C.</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>One Guinea</i>.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h5>"With bad paper, one's Best is impossible."</h5> + +<p><big><big><b>The Author's Paper Pad</b></big></big> (Issued by the Proprietors +of The Leadenhall Press.)<br /> +Contains, in block form, fifty sheets of paper, fibrous and difficult +to tear as a piece of linen, over which—being of unusual but not +painful smoothness—the pen slips with perfect freedom. Easily +detachable, the size of the sheets is about 7½ x 8¾ in., and the +price is only that usually charged for common scribbling paper. 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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: A Lover's Litanies + +Author: Eric Mackay + +Release Date: February 3, 2009 [EBook #27971] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LOVER'S LITANIES *** + + + + +Produced by K Nordquist, David T. Jones and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + +A +Lover's Litanies + +_BY_ + +Eric Mackay + + + + +A +Lover's Litanies + +_BY_ + +Eric Mackay + +_Author of "Love Letters of a Violinist," and +"Gladys the Singer."_ + + + +1888. + +_LONDON:_ + +_Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C. +Simpkin, Marshall & Co.; Hamilton, Adams & Co._ + +_New York: Scribner & Welford, 743 & 745, Broadway._ + + + +[Illustration: logo] + +THE LEADENHALL PRESS, +LONDON, E.C. + +T 4,258. + + +[Illustration: Ave Maria!] + + + + +Contents. + + PAGE + +First Litany--Virgo Dulcis 11 + +Second Litany--Vox Amoris 25 + +Third Litany--Ad Te Clamavi 39 + +Fourth Litany--Gratia Plena 53 + +Fifth Litany--Salve Regina 67 + +Sixth Litany--Benedicta Tu 81 + +Seventh Litany--Stella Matutina 95 + +Eighth Litany--Domina Exaudi 109 + +Ninth Litany--Lilium inter Spinas 123 + +Tenth Litany--Gloria in Excelsis 137 + + +[Illustration] + + + + +First Litany. + +VIRGO DULCIS. + + +First Litany. + +Virgo Dulcis. + + +i. + +O thou refulgent essence of all grace! + O thou that with the witchery of thy face +Hast made of me thy servant unto death, +I pray thee pause, ere, musical of breath, +And rapt of utterance, thou condemn indeed +My venturous wooing, and the wanton speed + With which I greet thee, dear and tender soul! +From out the fullness of my passion-creed. + + +ii. + +I am so truly thine that nevermore + Shall man be found, this side the Stygian shore, +So meek as I, so patient under blame, +And yet, withal, so minded to proclaim +His life-long ardour. For my theme is just: +A heart enslaved, a smile, a broken trust, + A soft mirage, a glimpse of fairyland, +And then the wreck thereof in tears and dust. + + +iii. + +Thou wast not made for murder, yet a glance + May murderous prove; and beauty may entrance, +More than a syren's or a serpent's eye. +And there are moments when a smother'd sigh +May hint at comfort and a murmur'd "No" +Give signs of "Yes," and Misery's overflow + Make tears more precious than we care to tell, +Though, one by one, our hopes we must forego. + + +iv. + +I should have shunn'd thee as a man may shun + His evil hour. I should have curst the sun +That made the day so bright and earth so fair +When first we met, delirium through the air +Burning like fire! I should have curst the moon +And all the stars that, dream-like, in a swoon + Shut out the day,--the lov'd, the lovely day +That came too late and left us all too soon. + + +v. + +I look'd at thee, and lo! from face to feet, + I saw my tyrant, and I felt the beat +Of my quick pulse. I knew thee for a queen +And bow'd submissive; and the smile serene +Of thy sweet face reveal'd the soul of thee. +For I was wounded as a man may be + Whom Eros tricks with words he will not prove; +And all my peace of mind went out from me. + + +vi. + +Oh, why didst cheer me with the thought of bliss, + And wouldst not pay me back my luckless kiss? +I sought thy side. I gave thee of my store +One wild salute. A flame was at the core +Of that first kiss; and on my mouth I feel +The glow thereof, the pressure and the seal, + As if thy nature, when the deed was done, +Had leapt to mine in lightning-like appeal. + + +vii. + +If debts were paid in full I might require + More than my kiss. I might, in time, aspire +To some new bond, or re-enact the first. +For once, thou know'st, the love for which I thirst, +The love for which I hunger'd in thy sight, +Was not withheld. I deem'd thee, day and night, + Mine own true mate, and sent thee token flowers +To figure forth the hopes I'd fain indite. + + +viii. + +Is this not so? Canst thou detend, in truth, + The sunlike smile with which, in flush of youth, +Thou didst accept my greeting,--though so late,-- +My love-lorn homage when the voice of Fate +Fell from thy lips, and made me twice a man +Because half thine, in that betrothal-plan + Whereof I spake, not knowing how 'twould be +When May had marr'd the prospects it began? + + +ix. + +Can'st thou deny that, early in the spring, + When daisies droop'd, and birds were fain to sing, +We met, and talk'd, and walk'd, and were content +In sunlit paths? An hour and more we spent +In Keats's Grove. We linger'd near the stem +Of that lone tree on which was seen the gem + Of his bright name, there carven by himself; +And then I stoop'd and kiss'd thy garment's hem. + + +x. + +I gave thee all my life. I gave thee there, + In that wild hour, the great Creator's share +Of mine existence; and I turn'd to thee +As men to idols, madly on my knee; +And then uplifted by those arms of thine, +I sat beside thee, warm'd with other wine + Than vintage balm; and, mindful of thy blush, +I guess'd a thought which words will not define. + + +xi. + +I told thee stories of the days of joy + When earth was young, and love without alloy +Made all things glad and all the thoughts of things. +And like a man who wonders when he sings, +And knows not whence the power that in him lies, +I made a madrigal of all my sighs + And bade thee heed them; and I join'd therewith +The texts of these my follies that I prize. + + +xii. + +I spoke of men, long dead, who wooed in vain + And yet were happy,--men whose tender pain +Was fraught with fervor, as the night with stars. +And then I spoke of heroes' battle-scars +And lordly souls who rode from land to land +To win the love-touch of a lady's hand; + And on the strings of thy low-murmuring lute +I struck the chords that all men understand. + + +xiii. + +I sang to thee. I praised thee with my praise, + E'en as a bird, conceal'd in sylvan ways, +May laud the rose, and wish, from hour to hour, +That he had petals like the empress-flower, +And there could grow, unwing'd, and be a bud, +With all his warblings ta'en at singing-flood + And turned to vagaries of the wildest scent +To undermine the meekness in her blood. + + +xiv. + +Ah, those were days! That April should have been + My last on earth, and, ere the frondage green +Had changed to gold, I should have join'd the ranks +Of dull dead men who lived for little thanks +And made the most thereof, though penance-bound. +I should have known that in the daily round + Of mine existence, there are griefs to spare, +But joys, alas! too few on any ground. + + +xv. + +And here I stand to-day with bended head, + My task undone, my garden overspread +With baneful weeds. Am I the lord thereof? +Or mine own slave, without the power to doff +My misery's badge? Am I so weak withal, +That I must loiter, though the bugle's call + Shrills o'er the moor, the far-off weltering moor, +Where foemen meet to vanquish or to fall? + + +xvi. + +Am I so blurr'd in soul, so out of health, + That I must turn to thee, as if by stealth, +And fear thy censure, fear thy quick rebuff, +And thou so gentle in a world so rough +That God's high priest, the morn-apparell'd sun +Ne'er saw thy like! Am I indeed undone + Of life and love and all? and must I weep +For joys that quit me, and for sands that run? + + +xvii. + +To-morrow's dawn will break; but Yesterday, + Where is its light? And where the breezes' play +That sway'd the flowers? A bird will sing again, +But not so well. The wind upon the plain, +The wintry wind, will toss the groaning trees; +But I, what comfort shall I have of these, + To know that they, unlov'd, have lost the Spring, +As I thy favour and my power to please? + + +xviii. + +I should have learnt a lesson from the songs + Of woodland birds discoursing on the wrongs +Of madcap moths and bachelor butterflies. +I should have caught the cadence of the sighs +Of unwed flowers, and learnt the way to woo, +Which all things know but I, beneath the blue + Of Heaven's great dome; for, undesired of thee, +I have but jarr'd the notes that seem'd so true. + + +xix. + +I should have told thee all I meant to tell, + And how, at Lammas-tide, a wedding-bell +Rang through my sleep, mine own as well as thine; +And how I led thee, smiling, to a shrine +And there endow'd thee with the name I bear; +And how I woke to find the morning-air + Flooded with light. I should have told thee this +And not conceal'd the theme of my long prayer. + + +xx. + +But I was timid. Oh, my love was such + I scarce could name it! Trembling over-much +With too much ardour, I was moved at length +To mere mad utterance. In a blameful strength +I seiz'd thy hand, to scare thee, as of old +Dryads were scared; and calm and icy-cold + Thine answer came: "I pray thee, vex me not!" +And all that day 'twas winter on the wold. + + +[Illustration: cherub] + + + + +Second Litany. + +_VOX AMORIS_. + + +Second Litany. + +Vox Amoris.[1] + + +i. + +Vouchsafe, my Lady! by the passion-flower, + And by the glamour of a moonlit hour, +And by the cries and sighs of all the birds +That sing o'nights, to heed again the words +Of my poor pleading! For I swear to thee +My love is deeper than the bounding sea, + And more conclusive than a wedding-bell, +And freer-voiced than winds upon the lea. + +[Footnote 1: This Litany was introduced in the Author's "Gladys the +Singer," published by Messrs. Reeves & Turner, London, 1887.] + + +ii. + +In all the world, from east unto the west, + There is no vantage-ground, and little rest, +And no content for me from dawn to dark, +From set of sun to song-time of the lark, +And yet, withal, there is no man alive +Who for a goodly cause to make it thrive, + Would do such deeds as I would gird me to +Could I but win the pearl for which I dive. + + +iii. + +It is thy love which, downward in the deep + Of far-off visions, I behold in sleep,-- +It is thy pearl of love which in the night +Doth tempt my soul to hopes I dare not write,-- +It is this gem for which, had I a crown, +I'd barter peace and pomp, and ermined gown; + It is thy troth, thou paragon of maids! +For which I'd sell the joys of all renown. + + +iv. + +I would attack a panther in its den + To do thee service as thy man of men, +Or front the Fates, or, like a ghoul, confer +With staring ghosts outside a sepulchre. +I would forego a limb to give thee life, +Or yield my soul itself in any strife, + In any coil of doubt, in any spot +When Death and Danger meet as man and wife. + + +v. + +It is my solace, all my nights and days, + To pray for thee and dote on thee always, +And evermore to count myself a king +Because I earn'd thy favour in the spring. +Oh, smile on me and call me to thy side, +And I will kneel to thee, as to a bride, + And yet adore thee as a saint in Heaven +By God ordained, by good men glorified! + + +vi. + +I will acquaint thee with mine inmost thought + And teach thee all I know, though unbesought, +And make thee prouder of a poet's dream +Than wealthy men are proud of what they seem. +If thou have trust therein, if thou require +Service of me, or song, or penance dire, + I will obey thee as thy belted knight, +Or die to satisfy thy heart's desire. + + +vii. + +Ah! thou hast that in store which none can give, + None but thyself, and I am fain to live +To watch the outcome of so fair a gift,-- +To see the bright good morrow loom and lift, +And know that thou,--unpeer'd beneath the moon,-- +Untamed of men,--untutor'd to the tune + Of lip with lip,--wilt cease thy coy disdain +And learn the languors of the loves of June. + + +viii. + +All that I am, and all I hope to be, + Is thine till death; and though I die for thee +Each day I live; and though I throb and thrill +At thoughts that seem to burn me, and to chill, +In my dark hours, I revel in the same; +Yet I am free of hope, as thou of blame, + And all around me, wakeful and in sleep, +I weave a blessing for thy soul to claim. + + +ix. + +Oh, by thy radiant hair and by the glow + Of thy full eyes,--and by thy breast of snow,-- +And by the buds thereof that have the flush +Of infant roses when they strive to blush,-- +And by thy voice, melodious as a bell +That rings for prayer in God's high citadel,-- + By all these things, and more than I can urge, +I charge thee, Sweet! to let me out of hell! + + +x. + +Is it not Hell to live so far away + And not to touch thee,--not by night or day +To be partaker of one smile of thine, +Or one commingling of thy breath and mine, +Or one encounter of thine amorous mouth? +I dwell apart from thee, as north from south, + As east from western ways I dwell apart, +And taste the tears that quench not any drouth. + + +xi. + +Why wouldst thou take the memory of a wrong + To be thy shadow all the summer long, +A thing to chide thee at the dead of night, +A thing to wake thee with the morning light +For self-upbraiding, while the wanton bird +Invests the welkin? Ah, by joy deferr'd, + By peace withheld from me,--do thou relent +And dower my life to-day with one love-word! + + +xii. + +Wouldst thou, Cassandra-wise, oppress my soul + With more unrest, and Hebe-like, the bowl +Of festal comfort for a moment raise +To my poor lips, and then avert thy gaze? +Wouldst make me mad beyond the daily curse +Of thy displeasure, and in wrath disperse + That halcyon draught, that nectar of the mind, +Which is the theme I yearn to in my verse? + + +xiii. + +Oh, by thy pity when so slight a thing + As some small bird is wounded in the wing, +Avert thy scorn, and grant me, from afar, +At least the right to love thee as a star,-- +The right to turn to thee, the right to bow +To thy pure name and evermore, as now, + To own thy thraldom and to sing thereon, +In proud allegiance to mine earliest vow. + + +xiv. + +It were abuse of power to frown again + When, all day long, I gloat upon the pain +Of pent-up hope, my joy and my distress,-- +While the remembrance of a mute caress +Given to a rose,--a rose I pluck'd for thee,-- +Seems as the withering of the world to me, + Because I am unlov'd of thee to-day +And undesired as sea-weeds in the sea. + + +xv. + +I'll not believe that eyes so bright as thine + Were meant for malice in the summer-shine, +Or that a glance thereof, though changed to fire, +Could injure one whose spirit, like a lyre, +Has throbb'd to music of remember'd joys,-- +The pride thereof, and all the tender poise + Of trust with trust,--the symphonies of grief +Made all mine own,--and Faith which never cloys. + + +xvi. + +How can it be that one so fair as thou + Should wear contention on a whiter brow +Than May-day Dian's in her hunting gear? +I'll not believe that eyes so holy-clear +And mouth so constant to its morning prayer +Could mock the mischief of a man's despair + And all the misery of a moment's hope +Seen far away, as mists are seen in air. + + +xvii. + +How can a woman's heart be made of stone + And she not know it? Mine is overthrown. +I have no heart to-day, no perfect one, +Only a thing that sighs at set of sun +And beats its cage, as if the thrall thereof +Were freedom's prison or the tomb of love; + As if, God help me! there were shame in truth +And no salvation left in realms above. + + +xviii. + +I once could laugh, I once was deem'd a man + Fit for the frenzies of the dead god Pan, +And now, by Heaven! the birds that sing so well +Move me to tears; and all the leafy dell, +And all the sun-down glories of the West, +And all the moorland which the moon has blest, + Make me a dreamer, aye! a coward, too, +In all the weird expanse of mine unrest. + + +xix. + +It is my curse to see thee and to learn + That I must shun thee, though I blaze and burn +With all this longing, all this fierce delight +Fear-fraught and famish'd for a suitor's right; +A right conceded for a moment's space +And then withdrawn as, amorous face to face, + I dared to clasp thee and to urge a troth +Too sovereign-sweet for one of Adam's race. + + +xx. + +I am a doom-entangled mirthless soul, + Without the power to rid me of the dole +Which, day by day, and nightly evermore +Corrodes my peace! Oh, smile, as once before, +At each wild thought and each discarded plea, +And let thy sentence, let thy suffrance be + That I be reckon'd till the day I die +The sad-eyed Singer of thy fame and thee! + + +[Illustration: cherub] + + + + +Third Litany. + +_AD TE CLAMAVI._ + + +Third Litany. + +Ad Te Clamavi. + + +i. + +Again, O Love! again I make lament, + And, Arab-like, I pitch my summer-tent +Outside the gateways of the Lord of Song. +I weep and wait, contented all day long +To be the proud possessor of a grief. +It comforts me. It gives me more relief + Than pleasures give; and, spirit-like in air, +It re-invokes the peace that was so brief. + + +ii. + +It speaks of thee. It keeps me from the lake + Which else might tempt me; and for thy sweet sake +I shun all evil. I am calmer now +Than when I wooed thee, calmer than the vow +Which made me thine, and yet so fond withal +I start and tremble at the wind's footfall. + Is it the wind? Or is it mine own past +Come back to life to lure me to its thrall? + + +iii. + +I long to rise and seek thee where thou art + And draw thee amorous to my wakeful heart +That beats for thee alone, in vague unrest. +I long to front thee when thou'rt lily-dress'd +In white attire,--e'en like the flowers of old +That Jesus praised; and, though the thought be bold, + I'm fain to kiss thee, Sweetheart! through thy hair +And hide my face awhile in all that gold. + + +iv. + +I will not say what more might then be done, + And how, by moonlight or beneath the sun, +We might be happy. In a reckless mood +I've talk'd of this; and dreams and many a brood +Of tongue-tied fancies have my soul beset. +I will not hint at fealty or the fret + Of lips untrue, or anger thee therein, +Or call to mind one word thou wouldst forget. + + +v. + +I should withhold my raptures were I wise, + I should not vex thee with my many sighs, +Or claim one tear from thee, though 'tis my due. +I should be silent. I should cease to sue! +Sorrow should teach me what I fail'd to learn +In days gone by; and cross'd at every turn + By some new doubt, new-born of my desires, +I should suppress the pangs with which I burn. + + +vi. + +I am an outcast from the land of love + And thou the Queen thereof, as white as dove +New-sped from Heaven, and fine and fair to see +As coy Queen Mab when, out upon the lea, +She met her master and was lov'd of him. +Thou art allied to long-hair'd cherubim, + And I a something undesired of these, +With woesome lips and eyes for ever dim. + + +vii. + +I was ordain'd thy minstrel, but alas! + I dare not greet thee when I see thee pass; +I scarce, indeed, may hope at any time, +To work my will, or triumph in a rhyme +To do thee honour; no, nor make amends +For unsought fervor, in the tangled ends + Of my despair. How sad, how dark to me +All things have grown since thou and I were friends! + + +viii. + +It is the fault of thy despotic glance, + It is the memory of a day's romance +When, true to thee, though taunted for my truth, +I dared to solemnise the joys of youth +In one wild chant. It is thy fault, I say! +Thy piteous fault that, on the verge of May, + I lost the right to live, as heretofore, +Untouched by doubt from day to brightening day. + + +ix. + +O Summer's Pride! I loved thee from the first, + And, like a martyr, I was blest and curst, +And saved and slain, and crown'd and made anew, +A grief-glad man, with yearnings not a few, +But no just hope to win so fair a troth. +I should have known how one may weep for both + When lovers part, poor souls! beneath the moon, +And how Remembrance may outlive an oath. + + +x. + +The nymphs, I think, were like thee in the glade + Of that Greek valley where the wine was made +For feasts of Bacchus; for I dream at night +Of those creations, kind and calm and bright; +And in my thought, unhallow'd though it be, +The sun-born Muses turn their gaze on me, + And seem to know me as a friend of theirs, +Though all unfit to serve them on my knee. + + +xi. + +They lived and sang. They died as visions die, + Supreme, eternal, offshoots of the sky, +Made and re-made, undraped and draped afresh, +To glad the earth like phantoms made of flesh, +And yet as mistlike as delusions are! +They stood beside Achilles in his car; + They knew the gods and all their joysome deeds, +And all the chants that sprang from star to star. + + +xii. + +The myths of Greece, the maidens of the grove, + The dear dead fancies of the days of Jove, +Why were they bann'd? Oh, why in Reason's name, +Were they abolished? They were good to claim, +And good to dream of, and to crown with bays, +Far-seen of men, far-shining in the haze + Of withering doubts. They were the world's elect, +As thou art mine, to bow to and to praise. + + +xiii. + +Night after night I see thee, in my dreams, + As fair as Daphne, with the morning beams +Of thy bright locks about thee like a cloak,-- +Fair as the young Aurora when she woke +At Phaethon's call, athwart the mountain-heights. +I see thee radiant in the summer nights, + And, bosom-pack'd with frenzies unrepress'd, +I thrill to thee in Slumber's soft delights. + + +xiv. + +I see thee pout. I see thee in disdain + Look out, reluctant, through the falling rain +Of thy long hair. I feel thee close at hand. +I note thy breathing as I loose the band +That binds thy waist, and then to waking life +I backward start! Despair is Sorrow's wife; + And I am Sorrow, and Despair's mine own, +To lure me on to madness or to strife. + + +xv. + +My sex offends thee, or the thought of this; + For I did fright thee when I fleck'd a kiss +With too much heat. I should have bow'd to thee, +And left unsaid the word, deception-free, +Which, like a flash, illumed the love within, +My wilfulness was much to blame therein; + But thou wilt shrive me, Sweet! of mine offence +If passion-pangs be deem'd so dark a sin. + + +xvi. + +Oh, give me back my soul that with the same + I may achieve a deed of poet-fame, +Or die belauded on the battle-field! +There's much to seek. My hand is strong to wield +Weapon or pen. If thou consent thereto +Deeds may be done. If not, thine eyes are blue + And Heaven is there,--a two-fold tender shrine +Whose wrath I fear, whose judgment still I rue! + + +xvii. + +I am but half myself. The life in me + Is nigh crush'd out; and, though I seem to see +Glory, and grace, and joy, as in the past, +They are but shadows on the cozening blast, +And dreams of devils and distorted things, +And snakes coiled up that look like wedding rings, + And faded flowers that once were fit for wreaths +In bygone summers and in perish'd springs. + + +xviii. + +There is a curse in every garden place, + And when, at night, the lily's holy face +Looks up to God, it seems to chide me there. +The very sun with all his golden hair +Is ill at ease, and birth and death of day +Bring no relief; and darkly on my way + My memory comes,--the ghost of my Delight,-- +To fret and fume at woes it cannot slay. + + +xix. + +Oh, bid me smile again, as in the time + When all the breezes seem'd to make a chime, +And all the birds on all the woodland slopes +Had trills for me, and seem'd to guess the hopes +That warm'd my heart. O thou whom I adore! +How proud were I,--though wounded bitter-sore + By shafts of doubt,--if, in default of love +I could but win thy friendship as of yore. + + +xx. + +Then were I blest indeed, and crown'd of fate + As kings are crowned, as bards in their estate +Are rapture-fraught, re-risen above the dust. +Then were I torture-proof, and on the crust +Of one kind word, though as a pittance thrown, +I'd live for weeks! My tears I would disown + And pray, contented with my discontent, +As hermits pray when storms are overblown. + + +[Illustration: cherub] + + + + +Fourth Litany. + +_GRATIA PLENA_. + + +Fourth Litany. + +Gratia Plena. + + +i. + +Oh, smile on me, thou syren of my soul! + That I may curb my thoughts to some control +And not offend thee, as in truth I do, +Morning, and noon and night, when I pursue +My vagrant fancies, unallow'd of thee, +But fraught with such consolement unto me + As may be felt in homeward-sailing ships +When wind and wave contend upon the sea. + + +ii. + +Dower me with patience and imbue me still + With some reminder, when the night is chill, +Of thy dear presence, as, in winter-time, +The maiden moon, that tenderly doth climb +The lofty heavens, hath yet a beam to spare +For doleful wretches in their dungeon-lair; + E'en thus endow me in my chamber dim +With some reminder of thy face so fair! + + +iii. + +Quit thou thy body while thou sleepest well + And visit mine at midnight, by the spell +That knows not shame. For in the House of Sleep +All things are pure; and in the silence deep +I'll wait for thee, and thou, contrition-wise, +Wilt seek my couch and this that on it lies, + This frame of mine that lives for thee alone +As palmers live for peace that never dies. + + +iv. + +It were a goodly thing to spare a foe + And kill his hate. And I would e'en do so! +For I would kill the coyness of thy face. +I would enfold thee in my spurn'd embrace +And kiss the kiss that gladdens as with wine. +Yea, I would wrestle with those arms of thine, + And, like a victor, I would vanquish thee, +And, tyrant-like, I'd teach thee to be mine. + + +v. + +For, what is peace that we should cling thereto + If war be wisest? If the death we woo +Be fraught with fervor there's delight in death! +There is persuasion in the tempest's breath +Not known in calm; and raptures round us flow +When, like an arrow through the bended bow + Of two fond lips, the quivering dart of love +Brings down the kiss which saints shall not bestow. + + +vi. + +The soldier dies for country and for kin; + He dies for fame that is so sweet to win; +And, part for duty, part for battle-doom, +He wends his way to where the myrtles bloom; +He gains a grave, perchance a recompense +Beyond his seeking, and a restful sense + Of soul-completion, far from any strife, +And far from memory of his land's defence. + + +vii. + +Be this my meed,--to die for love of thee, + As when the sun goes down upon the sea +And finds no mate in all the realms of earth. +I, too, have look'd on Nature in its worth +And found no resting-place in all the spheres, +And no relief beyond my sonnet-tears,-- + The soul-fed shudderings of my lonely harp +That knows the gamut now of all my fears. + + +viii. + +I wear thy colours till the day I die: + A glove, a ribbon, and a rose thereby, +All join'd in one. I revel in these things; +For, once an angel, unarray'd in wings, +Came to my side, and beam'd on me, and said: +"I love thee, friend!" and then, with lifted head, + Gave me a rose on which the dew had fallen; +And, like the flower, she blush'd a virgin-red. + + +ix. + +I found the glove down yonder in the dale. + I knew 'twas thine; its color, creamy-pale, +Fill'd me with joy. "A prize!" I cried aloud, +And snatch'd it up, as zealous then, and proud, +As one who wins a knighthood in his youth; +And I was moved thereat, in very sooth, + And kiss'd it oft, and call'd on kindly Heaven +To be the sponsor of mine amorous truth. + + +x. + +I Earn'd the ribbon as we earn a smile + For service done. I help'd thee at the stile; +And so 'twas mine, my trophy, as of right. +Oh, never yet was ribbon half so bright! +It seem'd of sky-descent,--a strip of morn +Thrown on the sod,--a something summer-worn + To be my guerdon; and, enriched therewith, +I follow'd thee, thy suitor, through the corn. + + +xi. + +I trod on air. I seem'd to hear the sound + Of fifes and trumpets and the quick rebound +Of bells unseen,--the storming of a tower +By imps audacious, and the sovereign power +Of some arch-fairy, thine acquaintance sure +In days gone by; for, all the land was pure, + As if new-blest,--the land and all the sea +And all the welkin where the stars endure. + + +xii. + +We journey'd on through fields that were a-glow + With cowslip buds and daisies white as snow; +And, hand in hand, we stood beside a shrine +At which a bard whom lovers deem divine, +Laid down his life; and, as we gazed at this, +There seem'd to issue from the wood's abyss + A sound of trills, as if, in its wild way, +A nightingale were pondering on a kiss. + + +xiii. + +A lane was reached that led I know not where, + Unless to Heaven,--for Heaven was surely there +And thou so near it! And within a nook +A-down whose covertness a noisy brook +Did talk of peace, I learnt of thee my fate; +The word of pity that was kin to hate,-- + The voice of reason that was reason's foe +Because it spurn'd the love that was so great! + + +xiv. + +But I must pause. I must, from day to day, + Keep back my tears, and seek a surer way +Than Memory's track. I must, with lifted eyes, +Re-shape my life, and heed the battle-cries +Of prompt ambition, and be braced at call +To do such deeds as haply may befall, + If, freed of thee, and charter'd to myself, +I may undo the bonds that now enthrall. + + +xv. + +Shall I do this? I shall; and thou shalt see + Signs of rebellion. I will turn to thee +And claim obedience. I will make it plain +How many a link may go to form a chain, +And each a circlet, each a ring to wear. +I will extract the sting from my despair + And toy therewith, as with a charmed snake, +That, Lamia-like, uprears itself in air. + + +xvi. + +Or is my boast a vain, an empty one, + And shall I rue it ere the day is done? +Will hope revive betimes? Or must I stand +For evermore outside the fairyland +Of thy good will? Alas! my place is here, +To muse and moan and sigh and shed my tear, + My paltry tear for one who loves me not, +And would not mourn for me on my death-bier. + + +xvii. + +Oh, get thee hence, thou harbinger of light! + That, like a dream, dost come to me at night +To haunt my sleep, and rob me of content, +So true-untrue, so deaf to my lament, +I must forego the pride I felt therein. +Aye, get thee hence! And I will crush the sin, + If sin it be, that prompts me, night and day, +To seek in thee the bliss I cannot win. + + +xviii. + +Or, if thou needs must haunt me after dark, + Come when I wake. The oriole and the lark +Are friends of thine; and oft, I know, the thrush +Has trill'd of thee at morn and even-blush. +And flowers have made confessions unto me +At which I marvel; for they rail at thee + And call thee heartless in thy seemlihood, +Though queen-elect of all the flowers that be. + + +xix. + +Nay, heed me not! I rave; I am possess'd + By utmost longing. I am sore oppress'd +By thoughts of woe; and in my heart I feel +A something keener than the touch of steel, +As if, to-day, a danger unforeseen +Had track'd thy path,--as if my prayers had been + Misjudged in Heaven, or drown'd in demon-shouts +Beyond the boundaries of the coasts terrene. + + +xx. + +But this is clear; this much at least is true: + I am thine own! I doat upon the blue +Of thy kind eyes, well knowing that in these +Are proofs of God; and down upon my knees +I fall subservient, as a man in shame +May own a fault; albeit, as with a flame, + I burn all day, abash'd and unforgiven, +And all unfit to touch the hand I claim! + + +[Illustration: cherub] + + + + +Fifth Litany. + +_SALVE REGINA_. + + +Fifth Litany. + +Salve Regina. + + +i. + +Glory to thee, my Queen! whom far away + My thoughts aspire to,--as the birds of May +Aspire o' mornings,--as in lonely nooks +The gurgling murmurs of neglected brooks +Aspire to moonlight,--aye! as earth aspires +When through the East, alert with wild desires, + The rapturous sun surveys the welkin's height, +And flecks the world with witcheries of his fires. + + +ii. + +Oh, I should curb my grief. I should entone + No plaint to thee; no loss should I bemoan! +I should be patient, I, though full of care, +And not attempt, by bias of a prayer, +To sway thy spirit, or to urge anew +A claim contested. For my days are few; + My days, I think, are few upon the earth +Since I must shun the joys I would pursue. + + +iii. + +I am not worthy of the Heaven I name + When I name thee; and yet to win the same +Is still my dream. I strive as best I can +To live uprightly on the vaunted plan +Of old-world sages. But I strive not well; +And thoughts conflicting which I cannot quell + Make me despondent; and I quake thereat, +As at the shuddering of a doomsday bell. + + +iv. + +To die for thee were more than my desert; + To live for thee to keep thee out of hurt +And, like a slave, to wait upon thy will +Were more than fame. And lo! I nourish still +A sense of calm to feel that thou, at least, +Art sorrow-free and honor'd at the feast + Which Nature spreads for all contented minds; +And that for thee its splendours have increased. + + +v. + +I stand alone. I stand beneath the trees, + I guess their thoughts; I hear them to the breeze +Say tender nothings; and I dream the while +Of thy white arms, and thy remember'd smile, +When, in a spot like this, a year a-gone, +I saw thee stoop to pluck from off the lawn + A wounded bird that peer'd into thy face +As if it took thee for the nymph of dawn! + + +vi. + +Oh, can it be, as friends of thine affirm + That thou'rt a fairy,--that, from term to term, +Month after month, belov'd of all good things, +Thou'rt seen in forests and in meadow rings +Girt for the dance? or like an Oread queen +Array'd for council? For the woods convene + Their dryad forces when the nights are clear, +And nymphs and fawns carouse upon the green. + + +vii. + +The crescent moon, the Argosy of heaven, + Veers for the west across the Pleiads seven, +And, out beyond the ridge of Charles's Wain, +It seems to come to mooring on the main +Of that deep sky, as if awaiting there +An angel-guest with sunlight in her hair, + A seraph's cousin, or the foster-child +Of some centurion of the upper air. + + +viii. + +Is it thy soul? Has Cynthia call'd for thee + In her white boat, to take thee o'er the sea +Where suns and stars and constellations bright +Are isles of glory,--where a seraph's right +Surpasses mine, and makes me seem indeed +A base intruder, with a coward's creed + And not an angel's, though a Christian born +And pledged always to serve thee at thy need? + + +ix. + +Thou'rt sleeping now; and in thy snowy rest,-- + In that seclusion which is like a nest +For blameless human maids beheld of those +Who come from God,--thou hast in thy repose +No thought of me,--no thought of pairing-time. +For thou'rt the sworn opponent of the rhyme + That lovers make in kissing; and anon +My very love will vex thee like a crime. + + +x. + +But day and night, and winter-tide and spring, + Change at thy voice; and when I hear thee sing +I know 'tis May; and when I see thy face +I know 'tis Summer. Thou'rt the youngest Grace, +And all the Muses praise thee evermore. +And there are birds who name thee as they soar; + And some of these,--the best and brightest ones,-- +Have guess'd the pangs that pierce me to the core. + + +xi. + +Thou art the month of May with all its nights + And all its days transfigured in the lights +Of love-lit smiles and glances multiform; +And, like a lark that sings above a storm, +Thy voice o'er-rides the tumult of my mind. +Oh, give me back the peace I strove to find + In my last prayer, and I'll believe that Hope +Will dry anon the tears that make it blind. + + +xii. + +There's none like thee, not one in all the world; + No face so fair, no smile so sweet-impearl'd, +And no such music on the hills and plains +As thy young voice whereof the thrill remains +For hours and hours,--belike to keep alive +The sense of beauty that the flowers may thrive. + Or is't thy wish that birds should fly to thee +Before the days of April's quest arrive? + + +xiii. + +Thou'rt noble-natured; and there's none to stand + So meek as thou, or with so dear a hand +To ward off wrong. For Psyche of the Greeks +Is dead and gone; and Eros with his freaks +Has bow'd to thee, and turn'd aside, for shame, +His useless shaft, not daring to proclaim + His amorous laws, and thou so maiden-coy +Beneath the halo of thy spotless name! + + +xiv. + +But dreams are idle, and I must forget + All that they tend to. I must cease to fret, +Moth as I am, for stars beyond the reach +Of mine up-soaring; and in milder speech +I must invoke thy blessing on the road +That lies before me,--far from thine abode, + And far from all persuasion that again +Thou wilt accept the terms of my love-code. + + +xv. + +O Sweet! forgive me that from day to day + I dream such dreams, and teach me how to sway +My fluttering self, that, in forsaken hours, +I may be valiant, and eschew the powers +Of death and doubt! I need the certitude +Of thine esteem that I may check the feud + Of mine own thoughts that rend and anger me +Because denied the boon for which I sued. + + +xvi. + +Teach me to wait with patience for a word, + And be the sight of thee no more deferr'd +Than one up-rising of the vesper star +That waits on Dian when, supreme, afar, +She eyes the sunset. And of this be sure, +As I'm a man and thou a maid demure, + Thou shalt be ta'en aside and wonder'd at, +Before the gloaming leaves the land obscure. + + +xvii. + +Thou shalt be bow'd to as we bow to saints + In window'd shrines; and, far from all attaints +Of ribald passion, thou, as seemeth good, +Wilt smile serenely in thy virginhood. +Nor shall I know, of mine own poor accord, +Which thing in all the world is best to hoard, + Or which is worst of all the things that slay: +A woman's beauty or a soldier's sword. + + +xviii. + +I grieve in sleep. I pine away at night. + I wake, uncared for, in the morning light; +And, hour by hour, I marvel that for me +The wandering wind should make its minstrelsy +So sweet and calm. I marvel that the sun, +So round and red, with all his hair undone, + Should smile at me and yet begrudge me still +The sight of thee that art my worshipp'd one! + + +xix. + +I count my moments as a cloister'd man + May count his beads; and through the weary span +Of each long day I peer into my heart +For hints of comfort; and I find, in part, +A self-committal, and a glimpse withal +Of some new menace in the rise and fall + Of days and nights that are the test of Time +Though Fate would make a mockery of them all. + + +xx. + +There's a disaster worse than loss of gold, + Worse than remorse, and worse a thousand-fold, +Than pangs of hunger. 'Tis the thirst of love, +The rage and rapture of the ravening dove +We name Desire. Ah, pardon! I offend; +My fervor blinds me to the withering end + Of all good council, and, accurst thereby, +I vaunt anew the faults I cannot mend. + + +[Illustration: cherubs] + + + + +Sixth Litany. + +_BENEDICTA TU_. + + +Sixth Litany. + +Benedicta Tu. + + +i. + +I tell thee Sweet! there lives not on the earth + A love like mine in all the height and girth +And all the vast completion of the sphere. +I should be proud, to-day, to shed a tear +If I could weep. But tears are most denied +When most besought; and joys are sanctified + By joys' undoing in this world of ours +From dusk to dawn and dawn to eventide. + + +ii. + +Wert thou a marble maid and I endow'd + With power to move thee from thy seeming shroud +Of frozen splendour,--all thy whiteness mine +And all the glamour, all the tender shine +Of thy glad eyes,--ah God! if this were so, +And I the loosener, in the summer-glow, + Of thy long tresses! I were licensed then +To gaze, unchidden, on thy limbs of snow. + + +iii. + +I would prepare for thee a holy niche + In some new temple, and with draperies rich, +And flowers and lamps and incense of the best, +I would with something of mine own unrest +Imbue thy blood and prompt thee to be just. +I would endow thee with a fairer trust + Than mere contentment, and a dearer joy +Than mere revulsion from the sins of dust. + + +iv. + +A band of boys, with psaltery and with lyre, + And Cyprian girls, the slaves of thy desire, +Would chant and pray and raise so wild a storm +Of golden notes around thy sculptured form +That saints would hear the chorus up in Heaven, +And intermingle with their holy steven + The sighs of earth, and long for other cares +Than those ordain'd them by the Lord's Eleven. + + +v. + +I would approach thee with a master's tread + And claim thy hand and have the service read +By youthful priests resplendent every one; +And in thy frame the blood of thee would run +As warm and sound as wine of Syracuse. +And all that day the birds would bear the news + In far directions, and the meadow-flowers +Would dream thereof, love-laden, in the dews. + + +vi. + +Then, by magnetic force,--the greatest known + This side the tomb,--I would athwart the stone +Of thy white body, in a trice of time, +Call forth thy soul, and woo thee to the chime +Of tinkling bells, and make thee half afraid, +And half aggrieved, to find thyself array'd + In such enthralment, and in such attire, +In sight of one whose will should not be stay'd. + + +vii. + +And, like Pygmalion, I would claim anon + A bride's submission; and my talk thereon +Would not perplex thee; for the sense of life +Would warm thy heart, and urge thee to the strife +Of lip with lip, and kiss with pulsing kiss, +Which gives the clue to all we know of bliss, + And all we know of heights we long to climb +Beyond the boundaries of the grave's abyss. + + +viii. + +The dear old deeds chivalrous once again + Would find fulfilment; and the curse of Cain +Which fell on woman, as on men it fell, +Would fly from us, as at a sorcerer's spell, +And leave us wiser than the sophists are +Who love not folly. Night should not debar, + Nor day dissuade us, from those ecstacies +That have Anacreon's fame for guiding-star. + + +ix. + +Aye! thou wouldst kneel and seek in me apace + A transient shelter for thine amorous face +Which then I'd screen; and thou to me wouldst turn +With awe-struck eyes, and cling to me and yearn, +With sighs full tender and a touch of fear. +And, like a bird which knows that spring is near, + And, after spring, the summer of sweet days, +Thou wouldst attune thy love-notes in mine ear. + + +x. + +Or, fraught with feelings near akin to hate, + Thou wouldst denounce me; and, like one elate, +Thou wouldst entwine me in thine arms so white, +As soldier-nymphs, with rapt and raging sight, +Made war with spearsmen in the vales of song, +The vales of Sparta where, for right or wrong, + The gods were potent, and, for beauty's sake, +Upheld the tourneys of the fair and strong. + + +xi. + +I would not seem too wilful in the heat + Of our encounter, or with sighs repeat +Too fierce a vow. I would throughout confess +Thy murderous mirth, thy conquering loveliness, +And then subdue thee! Tears would not avail +Nor prayer, nor praise; and, flush'd the while or pale, + Thou shouldst be mine, my hostage in the night, +Without the option of a moment's bail. + + +xii. + +Thou shouldst be mine! My hopes, from first to last, + Would win their way; and, lithe and love-aghast, +And all unnerv'd, thou wouldst, as in a dream +Entreat my pardon! I would callous seem +To thine out-yearning. I would cast on thee +A questioning look, and then, upon my knee, +I would surrender to that face of thine +Which is the great world's wonder unto me. + + +xiii. + +O Heaven! could this be done, and I fulfil + One half my wish, and curb thee to my will, +I were a prompter and a prouder man +Than earth has known since light-foot lovers ran +For Atalanta, lov'd of men and boys. +I were a kaiser then, a king of joys, + And fit to play with high-begotten pomps +As children play with pebbles or with toys. + + +xiv. + +O Golden Hair! O Gladness of an Hour + Made flesh and blood! O beauteous Human Flower +Too sweet to pluck, and yet, though seeming-cold, +Ordain'd to love! I pray thee, as of old, +Be kind to me. I saw thee yesternight, +And for an instant I was urged to plight + My troth again; for in thy face I saw +What seem'd a smile evoked for my delight. + + +xv. + +Re-grant thy favour! Take me by the hand + And lead me back again to thine own land, +The nook supreme, the sanctum in the glen +Where pixies walk,--unknown to peevish men +And shrew-like women whom no faith uplifts! +Show me the place where Nature keeps the gifts + She most approves, and where the song-birds dwell, +And I'll forego the land of little thrifts. + + +xvi. + +The moon is mother and the sun is sire + Of those young planets which, with infant fire, +Have late been found in regions too remote +For quicklier search; and these, in time, will dote +And whirl and wanton in the realms of space. +For there are comets in the nightly chase + Who see strange things untalk'd of by the bards; +And earth herself has found a trysting-place. + + +xvii. + +And so 'tis clear that sun and moon and stars + Are link'd by love! The marriage-feast of Mars +Was fixt long since. 'Tis Venus whom he weds. +'Tis she alone for whom he gaily treads +His path of splendour; and of Saturn's ring +He knows the symbol, and will have, in spring, + A night-betrothal, near the Southern Cross; +And all the stars will pause thereat and sing. + + +xviii. + +What wonder, then, what wonder if to-day + I, too, assert my right, in roundelay, +To talk of rings and posies and the vows +That wait on marriage? 'Tis the wild carouse +Of soul with soul athwart the sense of touch. +'Tis this uplifts us when, with fever-clutch, + The world would claim us; and our hopes revive +In spite of fears that daunt us over-much. + + +xix. + +Lips may be coy; but eyes are quick, at times, + To note the throbbings that are hot as crimes, +And fond as flutterings of the wings of doves. +For he is blind indeed who, when he loves, +Doubts all he sees:--the flickering of a smile, +The Parthian glance, the nod that, for a while, + Outbids Elysium, and is half a jest, +And half a truth, to tempt us and beguile. + + +xx. + +Thine eyes have told me things I dare not speak; + And I will trust the track they bid me seek, +Yea, though it lead me to the gates of death! +The wind is labouring:--it is out of breath; +Belike for scampering up the hill so fast +To say all's well with thee; and, down the blast, + I seem to hear the sounds of serenades +That swell from out the song-fields of the past. + + +[Illustration: cherubs] + + + + +Seventh Litany. + +STELLA MATUTINA. + + +Seventh Litany. + +Stella Matutina. + + +i. + +Arise, fair Phoebus! and with looks serene + Survey the world which late the orbed Queen +Did pave with pearl to please enamour'd swains. +Arise! Arise! The Dark is bound in chains, +And thou'rt immortal, and thy throne is here +To sway the seasons, and to make it clear + How much we need thee, O thou silent god! +That art the crown'd controller of the year. + + +ii. + +And while the breezes re-construct for thee + The shimmering clouds; and while, from lea to lea, +The great earth reddens with a maid's delight, +Behold! I bring to thee, as yesternight, +My subject song. Do thou protect apace +My peerless one, my Peri with the face + That is a marvel to the minds of men, +And like a flower for humbleness of grace. + + +iii. + +The earth which loves thee, or I much have err'd, + The glad, green earth which waits, as for a word, +The sound of thee, up-shuddering through the morn, +The restive earth is pleased when Day is born, +And soon will take each separate silent beam +As proof of sex,--exulting in the dream + Of joys to come, and quicken'd and convuls'd, +Year after year, by love's triumphant theme. + + +iv. + +A thousand times the flowers in all the fields + Will bow to thee; and with their little shields +The daisy-folk will muster on the plain. +A thousand songs the birds will sing again, +As sweet to hear as quiverings of a lute; +And she I love will sing, for thy repute, + Full many a song. She sings when she but speaks; +And when she's near the birds should all be mute. + + +v. + +O my Beloved! from thy curtain'd bed + Arise, rejoice, uplift thy golden head, +And be an instant, while I muse on this, +As nude as statues, and as good to kiss +As dear St. Agnes when she met her death, +Unclad and pure and patient of her breath, + And with the grace of God for wedding-gown, +As many an ancient story witnesseth. + + +vi. + +The bath, the plunge, the combing of the hair, + All this I view,--a sight beyond compare +Since Daphne died in all the varied charms +Of her chaste body,--rounded regal arms, +And shape supreme, too fair for human gaze, +But not too fair to win the mirror's praise + That throbs to see thee in thy deshabille +And loves thee well through all the nights and days. + + +vii. + +I see thee thus in fancy, as in books + A man may see the naiads of the brooks;-- +As one entranced by potions aptly given +May see the angels where they walk in Heaven, +And may not greet them in their high estate. +For who shall guess the riddle wrought of Fate + Till he be dead? And who that lives a span +Shall thwart the Future where it lies in wait? + + +viii. + +And now to-day a word I dare not write + Starts to my lips, as when a baffled knight +Witholds a song which fain he would repeat; +For lo! the sense thereof is passing sweet. +And, like a cup that's full, my heart is fill'd +With new desires and quiverings new-distill'd + From old delights; and all my pulses throb +As at the touch of dreams divinely-will'd. + + +ix. + +Who talks of comfort when he sees thee not + And feels no fragrance of the happy lot +Which violets feel, when call'd upon to lie +On thy white breast? And who with amorous eye +Looks at the dear tomb of the shuddering flowers, +The two-fold tomb where daintily for hours + They droop and muse,--who looks, I say, at these +And will not own the witchery of thy powers? + + +x. + +Who speaks of glory and the force of love, + And thou not near, my maiden-minded dove! +With all the coyness, all the beauty-sheen, +Of thy rapt face? A fearless virgin-queen,-- +A queen of peace art thou,--and on thy head +The golden light of all thy hair is shed + Most nimbus-like and most suggestive, too, +Of youthful saints enshrined and garlanded. + + +xi. + +Thou'rt Nature's own; and when a word of thine + Rings on the air, and when the Voice Divine +We call the lark upfloats amid the blue, +I know not which is which, for both are true, +Both meant for Heaven, though foster'd here below. +And when the silences around me flow, + I think of lilies and the face of thee +Which hath compell'd my manhood's overthrow. + + +xii. + +O blue-eyed Rapture with the radiant locks! + O thou for whom, athwart the fever-shocks +Of life and death and misery and much sin, +I'd sell salvation! There's a prize to win +And thou'rt its voucher; there's a wonder-prize, +Unknown till now beneath the vaulted skies, + And thou'rt its symbol; thou'rt its essence fair, +Its full completion form'd adoring-wise! + + +xiii. + +Yes, I will tell thee how I love thee best, + And all my thoughts of thee shall be confess'd +And none withheld, not e'en the witless one +Which late I harbor'd when the mounting sun +Burst from a cloud,--the moon a mile away, +As if in hiding from the lord of day,-- + As if, at times, the moon were like thyself, +And fear'd the semblance of a master's sway. + + +xiv. + +I love thee dearly when thine eyes are dim + With unshed tears; for then they seem to swim +In liquid blessedness, and unto me +There comes the memory of a god's decree +Which said of old:--"Be all men evermore, +All men and maids whose hearts are passion-sore, + Acclaim'd in Heaven!" and all day long I muse +On hope's divine and deathless prophet-lore. + + +xv. + +I love thee when the soft endearing flush + Invades thy face, and dimples in the blush +Bespeak attention,--as a rose's pout +Absorbs the stillness when the sun is out, +And all the air retains the glow thereof. +In all the world there is not light enough + Nor sheen enough, all day, nor any warmth, +Till thou be near me, arm'd with some rebuff! + + +xvi. + +And how I love thee when thy startled eyes + Look out at me, enrapt in that surprise +Which marks an epoch in the life I lead,-- +As if they guess'd the scope of Eros' creed +And all the mirth and malice of his wiles. +For it is wondrous when my Lady smiles, + And all the ground is holy where she treads, +And all the air is thrill'd for many miles! + + +xvii. + +In every mood of thine thou art my joy, + And, day by day, to shield thee from annoy, +I'd do the deeds that slaves were bound unto +With stabs for payment,--shuddering through and through +With their much labour; and I'd deem it grand +To die for thee if, after touch of hand, + I might but kiss thee as a lover doth; +For I should then be king of all the land. + + +xviii. + +But Father Time, old Time with Janus-face + Looks o'er the sphere, and sees no fitting place +For thine acceptance; for the thrones of earth +Are much too mean, and in thy maiden worth +Thou'rt crown'd enough, and throned in very sooth +More than the queens who lord it in their youth + O'er men's convictions; and He names thy name +As one belov'd of Nature and of Truth. + + +xix. + +He sees the nights, he sees the veering days, + The sweet spring season with its hymn of praise, +The summer, frondage-proud, the autumn pale, +The winter worn with withering of the gale,-- +All this he sees; and now, to-day, in June, +He, too, recalls that rapturous afternoon + When all the fields and flowers were like a dream, +And all the winds the offshoot of a tune. + + +xx. + +So I will cease to clamour for the past, + And seek suspension of my doubts at last, +In some new way till Fate becomes my friend. +I will re-gain the right to re-defend +The love I bear to thee, for good or ill. +For though, 'tis said, our griefs have power to kill, + Mine let me live, in mine unworthiness, +That, spurn'd of thee, my lips may praise thee still! + + +[Illustration: cherubs] + + + + +Eighth Litany. + +DOMINA EXAUDI. + + +Eighth Litany. + +Domina Exaudi. + + +i. + +It seems a year, and more, since last we met, + Since roseate spring repaid, in part, its debt +To thy bright eyes, and o'er the lowlands fair +Made daffodils so like thy golden hair +That I, poor wretch, have kiss'd them on my knees! +Forget-Me-Nots peep out beneath the trees + So like thine eyes that I have question'd them, +And thought thee near, though viewless on the breeze. + + +ii. + +It seems a year; and yet, when all is told, + 'Tis but a week since I was re-enroll'd +Among thy friends. How fairy-like the scene! +How gay with lamps! How fraught with tender sheen +Of life and languor! I was thine alone:-- +Alert for thee,--intent to catch the tone + Of thy sweet voice,--and proud to be alive +To call to heart a peace for ever flown. + + +iii. + +Had I not vext thee, as a monk in prayer + May vex a saint by musing, unaware, +On evil things? A saint is hard to move, +And quick to chide, and slow,--as I can prove,-- +To do what's just; and yet, in thy despite, +We met again, we too, at dead of night; + And I was hopeful in my love of thee, +And thou superb, and matchless, in the light. + + +iv. + +I felt distraught from gazing over-much + At thy great beauty; and I fear'd to touch +The dainty hand which Envy's self hath praised. +I fear'd to greet thee; and my soul was dazed +And self-convicted in its new design; +For I was mad to hope to call thee mine, + Aye! mad as he who claims a Virgin's love +Because his lips have praised her at a shrine. + + +v. + +I saw thee there in all the proud array + Of thy young charms,--as if a summer's day +Had leapt to life and made itself a queen,-- +As if the sylphs, remembering what had been, +Had mission'd thee, from out the world's romance, +To stir my pulse, and thrill me with a glance: + And once again, allow'd, though undesired, +I did become thy partner in the dance. + + +vi. + +I bow'd to thee. I drew thee to my side, + As one may seize a wrestler in his pride +To try conclusions,--and I felt the rush +Of my heart's blood suffuse me in a blush +That told its tale. But what my tongue would tell +Was spent in sighs, as o'er my spirit fell + The silvery cadence of thy lips' assent; +And every look o'er-ruled me like a spell. + + +vii. + +O devil's joy of dancing, when a tune + Speeds us to Heaven, and night is at the noon +Of all its frolic, all its wild desire! +O thrall of rapt illusions when we tire +Of coy reserve, and all the moments pass +As pass the visions in a magic glass, + And every step is shod with ecstacy, +And every smile is fleck'd with some Alas! + + +viii. + +Was it a moment or a merry span + Of years uncounted when convulsion ran +Right through the veins of me, to make me blest, +And yet accurst, in that revolving quest +Known as a waltz,--if waltz indeed it were +And not a fluttering dream of gauze and vair + And languorous eyes? I scarce can muse thereon +Without a pang too sweet for me to bear! + + +ix. + +By right of music, for a fleeting term, + Mine arms enwound thee and I held thee firm +There on my breast,--so near, yet so remote, +So close about me that I seem'd to float +In sunlit rapture,--touch'd I know not how +By some suggestion of a deeper vow + Than men are 'ware of when, on Glory's track, +They kneel to angels with uplifted brow. + + +x. + +And lo! abash'd, I do recall to mind + All that is past:--the yearning undefined,-- +The baulk'd confession that was like a sob-- +The sound of singing and the gurgling throb +Of lute and viol,--meant for many things +But most for misery; and a something clings + Close to my heart that is not wantonness, +Though, wanton-like, it warms me while it stings. + + +xi. + +The night returns,--that night of all the nights! + And I am dower'd anew with such delights +As memory feeds on; for I walk'd with thee +In moonlit gardens, and there flew to me +A flower-like moth, a pinion'd daffodil, +From Nature's hand; and, out beyond the hill, + There rose a star I joy'd to look upon +Because it seem'd the star of thy good will. + + +xii. + +We sat beneath the trees, as well thou know'st, + Within an arbour which a summer's boast +Had made ambrosial; and we loiter'd there +Some little space, the while upon the air +Uprose the fragrance of uncounted flowers. +Ah me! how weird a tryste was that of ours! + And how the moon look'd down, so lurid-warm, +Athwart the stillness of the frondage-towers! + + +xiii. + +I seem'd to feel thy breath upon my cheek; + I vainly searched for words I long'd to speak, +But could not utter lest the sound thereof +Should scare away the elves that wait on love. +And when I spoke to thee 'twas of the spot +Where we were seated,--things that matter'd not,-- + Uncared for things,--the weather,--the new laws! +And, sudden-loud, the wind assail'd the grot. + + +xiv. + +A little bird was warbling overhead + As if to twit me with the word unsaid +Which he, more daring, when the sun was high, +Trill'd to his mate! He knew the tender "why" +Of many a pleading, and he knew, meseems, +The very key-note to the lyric dreams + Of all true poets when, by love impell'd, +They search the secrets of the woods and streams. + + +xv. + +'Tis sure that summer, when she rear'd the bower + And arched the roof and gave it all the dower +Of all its leaves, and all the crannies small +Where wrens look through,--'tis sure that, after all, +Summer was kind, and meant to make for me +A shriving-place,--a lighthouse on the sea + Of all that verdure,--that, beneath the stars, +I might receive one quickening glance from thee. + + +xvi. + +Oh! had I dared to whisper in thine ear + My heart-full wish, undaunted by the fear +Of some rebuke:--a flush of thy fair face, +A lifted hand to tell me that the place +Was fairy-fenced, and guarded as by flame,-- +Oh! had I dared to court the word of blame + That's good for me, no doubt! at every turn, +My life to-day were chasten'd by the same. + + +xvii. + +But I was conscious of a sudden ban + Hurl'd from the zenith. I was like the man +Who scaled Olympus, with intent to bring +New fire therefrom, and dared not face the King +Of thought and thunder. I was full prepared +For thy displeasure,--for the past was bared + To mine on-looking; and, with faltering tongue, +I left my languorous meanings undeclared. + + +xviii. + +O lost Occasion! what a thing art thou:-- + A three-fold key,--the when, the where, the how,-- +The past, the present and the future tense,-- +All thrown aside. For what? A witless sense +Of some compunction! When the hour is bold +Reason is shy, and rapture, seeming-cold, + Makes mute surrender of its dearest chance, +And all for fear of doubts that might be told. + + +xix. + +But could we meet, oh! could we meet again + On some such night, unseen upon the plain, +I'd rob thee, Lady! of a tardy smile. +I would do this; and, for a breathing-while, +I would assert a sinner's right to pray, +A sinner's right to choose, as best he may, + His patron-saint; and I would kneel to thee, +And call thee mine, and dote on thee for aye! + + +xx. + +And then in summer, when the hours are mad, + And all the flow'rets in the fields are glad, +And all the breezes, like demented things +Outspeed the birds with sunlight on their wings, +In summer, aye! in summer's gracious time, +I might perchance be pardon'd for the crime + Of my much love, and win thy benison +Ere yet the year has reached its golden prime! + + +[Illustration: CHERUB] + + + + +Ninth Litany. + +LILIUM INTER SPINAS. + + +Ninth Litany. + +Lilium inter Spinas. + + +i. + +Dearest and best of maidens, whom the Fates + have dower'd with beauty, whom the glory-gates +Have shown so splendid in my waking sight, +Is't well, thou syren! thus to haunt the night +And grant no mercy, none from week to week +All through the year? Is't well my soul to seek + And shun my body? Is't throughout ordain'd +That thou shouldst spurn a love so tender-meek? + + +ii. + +It is my joy to serve thee, 'tis my pride + To own my follies, though anew denied +The chance of wisdom, and for this, who knows? +I shall be counted, ere the season's close, +A time-perverter. Yes! I shall be shamed, +And frown'd upon, and day by day proclaim'd + A foe to virtue, though, in seeking thee +I seek the goal that Virtue's self hath named. + + +iii. + +O Lily mine! O Lily tipp'd with gold + And welkin-eyed for angels to behold +When down on earth! Is't well to stand apart +And gaze at me and gently break my heart +Without one word? Is't well to seem alway +So grieved to see me, when, at fall of day, + Thou dost accept the reverence of mine eyes, +But not the homage that my lips would pay? + + +iv. + +Oh, give me back again, at midnight hour, + As in the circuit of that starlit bower, +The right to talk with thee, and be thy friend,-- +The right, in some wild way, to make an end +Of my submission, or to re-bestow +My troth on thee,--despite the overthrow + Of all my dreams, that were my constant care, +Though less to thee than flakes of alien snow. + + +v. + +I will unveil my meanings one by one, + And tell thee why the bird that loves the sun +Loves not the moon, though conscious of her fame. +For he's the soul of truth, in his acclaim, +And knows not treason! And of like intent +Are all my yearnings, too, when I lament. + And, though I say it, there's no troubadour +Has lov'd as I, since Cupid's bow was bent. + + +vi. + +I have been wed in sleep, and thou hast been + Mine own true bride,--the swooning summer-queen +Of my heart-throbs. I have been wed in jest! +I have been taken wildly to thy breast, +And then repell'd, and made to feel the ire +Of eager eyes that have the strange desire + To rack my soul, a-tremble in the dark, +But not the will to aid me to aspire. + + +vii. + +I should have died the instant that I heard + Thy whisper'd vow in slumber,--when a word +Made me thy master, for I did receive +Thy full surrender, and I'll not believe +That all was false; or that my dreaming-power +Was given for nought. The Future may devour + The facts of earth, but not its phantasies, +And not the dreams we dream from hour to hour. + + +viii. + +Oh, thou'lt confess that love from man to maid + Is more than kingdoms,--more than light and shade +In sky-built gardens where the minstrels dwell, +And more than ransom from the bonds of Hell. +Thou wilt, I say, admit the truth of this, +And half relent that, shrinking from a kiss, + Thou didst consign me to mine own disdain, +Athwart the raptures of a vision'd bliss. + + +ix. + +I'll seek no joy that is not link'd with thine, + No touch of hope, no taste of holy wine, +And, after death, no home in any star +That is not shared by thee, supreme, afar, +As here thou'rt first and foremost of all things! +Glory is thine and gladness and the wings + That wait on thought when, in thy spirit-sway, +Thou dost invest a realm unknown to kings. + + +x. + +I will accept of thee a poison-bowl + And drink the dregs thereof,--aye! to the soul,-- +And sound thy praises with my latest breath! +I was a pilgrim bound for Nazareth, +But when I knew thee, when I touched thy hand, +I changed my purpose; and to-day I stand + Thine amorous vassal, though denounced afresh +And warn'd away, unkiss'd, from Edenland. + + +xi. + +O flower unequall'd here from morn to morn, + Is't well, bethink thee, with a rose's thorn +To deck thyself, thou lily! and to seem +So irresponsive to my passion-dream? +Is't a caprice of thine to look so proud, +And so severe, athwart the shining cloud + Of thy long hair? And shall I never learn +How least to grieve thee when my vows are vow'd? + + +xii. + +The full perfection of thy face is such + That, like a child's, it seems to know the touch +Of some glad hour that God has smiled upon. +There is a whiteness whiter than the swan, +A singing sweeter than the linnet's note. +But there is nothing whiter than thy throat, + And nothing sweeter than thy tender voice +When, love-attuned, it skyward seems to float. + + +xiii. + +Lily and rose in one! To find thy peer + Exceeds belief, all through the varying year, +For chance thereof, and hope thereof, is none. +There comes no rival to the rising sun, +And none to thee!--no rival to the moon +That sets in Venice on the far lagoon, + And none to thee, thou marvel of the months, +That art the cynosure of night and noon! + + +xiv. + +Yes, I will hope. I will not cease to turn + My thoughts to thee, and cry to thee, and yearn +As one in Hell may lift enamour'd eyes +To some sweet soul beyond the central skies +Whose face has slain him! For 'tis true, I swear: +I have been murder'd by thy golden hair, + And by the brightness of those fringed orbs +That are at once my joy and my despair. + + +xv. + +Winter is wild; but spring will come again; + For there's compunction in the fever-pain +That earth endures when, clamorous down the steep, +The wind out-blows the curse it cannot keep. +And so, belike, thy scorn of me may change +To something fairer than the fated range + Of dole, and doubt, and pity, and reproof; +And then my sighs may cease to seem so strange. + + +xvi. + +For thou and I will meet and not be foes, + E'en as the rue may stand beside the rose +And not affront it,--as a lonely tree +May guard a shrine and not upon the lea +Be deem'd obtrusive,--as an errant knight +May serve the sovereign of his soul's delight + And not, thereby, be deem'd of less account +Than he who keeps her daily in his sight. + + +xvii. + +Reject me not that in the world of men, + Among the wielders of the sword and pen +I have, as 'twere, detractors by the score,-- +Reject me not for faults that I deplore +And fain would alter,--though, if I were wise, +I'd blunt the edge thereof in some disguise + Approved of thee! For I've a kind of hope +That we'll be friends again ere summer dies. + + +xviii. + +If this be true I'll greet thee with such fire + That thou wilt throb thereat, as throbs a lyre, +And give thine answer, too, without restraint, +And neither frown at me nor fear a taint +In my much zeal, that knows not any pause +But, night and day, is constant to the laws + Of its own making, and is fain to prove +How leagued it is throughout to Honor's cause. + + +xix. + +I will conceal from thee no thought of mine. + All will be clear as signing of a sign +On marriage-scrips; and, though I tell thee so, +The seas and streams of earth shall cease to flow +Ere thou shalt find, in this world or the next, +A love so proud, a faith so firmly sex'd, + As this of mine. For thou'rt the polar star +To which I turn as minstrel to his text. + + +xx. + +But woe's the hour! My heart is wounded sore, + And soon may cease to take, as heretofore, +Such keen delight in tears that comfort not, +But evermore do seem to leave a blot +On sorrow's teaching! Shall I muse thereon +One season more, till hope and faith be gone? + Or must I look for comfort up in Heaven +And then be slain by thee as night by dawn? + + +[Illustration: cherubs] + + + + +Tenth Litany. + +GLORIA IN EXCELSIS. + + +Tenth Litany. + +Gloria in Excelsis. + + +i. + +O Love! O Lustre of the sunlit earth + That knows thy step and revels in the worth +Of thy much beauty! Is't thy will anew, +Famed as thou art, to marvel that I sue +With such persistence, and in such unrest +Amid the frenzies of my passion-quest? + Wilt look ungently, and without a tear, +On all the pangs I bear at thy behest? + + +ii. + +Morning and eve I cease not, when I kneel + To my Redeemer for my spirit's weal +And for my body's,--as becomes a man,-- +Morning and eve I cease not in the span +Of all my days, O thou Unconquer'd One! +To pray for thee, and do what may be done + To re-acquire the friendship I have lost, +Which is the holiest thing beneath the sun. + + +iii. + +For what is fame that with so loud a voice + O'ersways the nations? What the random choice +Of sight and sound which makes the place we fill +So fraught with good, so redolent of ill? +Where is the thunderstorm of yesternight +That shook the clouds? And where the levin's blight + That spake of chaos and the Judgment Day? +And where the wisdom of a king's delight? + + +iv. + +Could I be kiss'd of thee, or crown'd of men, + I'd choose the kiss. I'd be ordained then +Lord of myself, and not the slave I seem +To each new doubt. Our tryste was like a dream +And yet 'twas true. For oft, by wonder-chance, +We find the path to many a bright romance, + And many a tilt and tourney of dear love +In which the brave are vanquish'd by a glance. + + +v. + +To lie alone with thee one little hour, + And cling to thee as flower may cling to flower, +With no rough thought beyond the peace thereof,-- +To be thy comrade, and to don and doff +The little chain that hangs about thy neck,-- +To do all this, my Fair One! and to fleck + Thine eyes with kisses, were a righteous deed, +And not a thing for Love to hold in check. + + +vi. + +Nay, there are dimples which I long to taste, + And there's a girdle fit for Phoebe's waist +Which I would loosen; for I have the skill +To handle lilies; and, by Venus' will, +I'd handle thee, and comfort thee therein. +For love's a sacrament I'd die to win, + And not a toy nor yet a subterfuge; +And not a pitfall for the feet of sin. + + +vii. + +The searching suddenness of thy blue eyes, + The flash thereof, the fire that in them lies,-- +All this I yearn to,--all the soul of thee +Shown in thy looks, as though to solace me +In some disaster portion'd out as mine. +Where thou abidest, where thy limbs recline, + Where thou'rt absorb'd in silence or in prayer, +There stands a throne, there gleams a fairy shrine. + + +viii. + +I am, indeed, more subject to thy sway + Than trees are subject, in their tender way, +To earth's great king revolving round the sphere. +I am thy suffering servant all the year; +And when I wake thy name is on my lips, +And when I sleep I feel thy finger-tips + Press'd on mine eyes, as if thy wraith were there, +To save my soul from night's entire eclipse. + + +ix. + +Till I have heard from thee my doom of death + I shall be proud to serve thee with my breath, +And with my labour, and be thine withal +As Man is God's,--content with any thrall +That's bound in thee; content with any lot +That's link'd with thine, in some secluded spot + Which thou hast lov'd, O Lady! in the past, +And where remorse and wrong will find us not. + + +x. + +To know thee fair, ah God! how sweet is this; + To find thee wavering, and to grasp in bliss +Only the dream of thee, how sad the while! +And yet, by reason of a moment's smile, +How grand to hope, how gracious to forget! +Thou false to me? Thou heedless of a debt + Of love's incurring? Nay, by Juno's crown, +Thy snow-white hand shall be my guerdon yet! + + +xi. + +The spirit-love that leads us to the soul + Athwart the body as its fairest goal,-- +The love that lives in languor undefined +And yet is strong,--the love that can be kind +And yet aggressive as a soldier's blade, +Keen to the hilt, entranced and not afraid,-- + This is the love that will survive the death +Of all endowments which the years have made. + + +xii. + +Wilt frown at this? Wilt chide me? Wilt appeal, + As some are wont, when lovers, out of zeal, +O'erstep the bounds of wisdom which hath ceased +To win men's praise? The Matins of the East +Sung by the lark,--the Credo of the Cloud +Which oft he sings in confirmation proud + Of his great love,--all this were mine excuse +If I could sing as he, so dawn-endow'd. + + +xiii. + +For I'd be welcome, then, where'er thou art, + And gladden thee, and play as prompt a part +As Romeo play'd with Juliet at his breast. +Who loves not love, who hates to be caress'd, +Is Nature's bane; and I'll denounce him, too. +For he's a foe to all that's just and true + In earth and Heaven; and when he seeks a joy, +His quest shall fail,--his hand shall miss the clue. + + +xiv. + +We know these things. We know how dark a word + May let in light, and how the smallest bird +May mix the morn with music till we think +The fire-lit air is wine for us to drink,-- +And every drop salvation,--every sound +A Muse's whisper,--all the flower-full ground + A fancy-carpet fit for knights to tread +When on their way to Arthur's Table Round. + + +xv. + +A peevish fool is he who will not raise + His hands in prayer, among the danger-days +That come to all; for he, when waxen old, +Will search the past and find it callous-cold; +And all the future, too, will freeze for him. +Nor shall he weep aright when tears bedim + His desperate, doleful eyes that know not faith; +And he shall hear no chants of cherubim. + + +xvi. + +I was bewitch'd of late! My soul had met + Some fearful doom; and there had dropt a threat,-- +A curse belike,--from lips of Atropos. +There had been done a deed of spirit-loss +Which did o'erwhelm me as I paused thereat. +But now 'tis shunn'd; and where a Tremor sat + Now sits a Hope; and where a gulf was seen +Now stands a mount as blest as Ararat. + + +xvii. + +The rose is silent, and the lily dumb + For Man alone. He sees them when they come +Glad from the soil; but what they mean thereby, +And what they dream of, when they front the sky, +Eludes his learning. But the birds can tell. +Moths talk to flowers; and breezes in the dell + Hear more confessions than we men reveal; +And oaks and cedars love each other well. + + +xviii. + +In woodland places where the grass is lit + With lamp-like flowers, I seem to see thee flit +On azure wings, as if to bless the glade; +For, everywhere, thy form in shine and shade +Doth come and go, conversant, as I deem, +With Nature's whims; for thou'rt of great esteem + In fairy haunts; and elves and fays confess +How sweet thou art, my Love! and how supreme. + + +xix. + +Diana's self was not more virgin-proud. + The maiden-moon, new-seated on a cloud +That seems her throne where she receives the stars,-- +The moon who holds her court beyond the jars +Of land and sea,--the moon, the vestal moon, +Has kept thee cold since the transcendant noon + Of that wild day when I thy hand did claim, +And when thy lips refused me their boon. + + +xx. + +But thoughts are free; and mine have found at last + Their apt solution; and, from out the past, +There seems to shine as 'twere a beacon-fire; +And all the land is lit with large desire +Of lambent glory; all the quivering sea +Is big with waves that wait the Morn's decree, + As I, thy vassal, wait thy beckoning smile +Athwart the splendors of my dreams of Thee! + + +Amen! + + +THE LEADENHALL PRESS +LONDON, E. 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