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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. C +T 4,258. + + +Extracts from Field and Tuer's Book List. + +The Leadenhall Press, 50, Leadenhall Street, E. C. + + +_Upwards of 300 Superb Illustrations (some beautifully hand-coloured.)_ + +Kensington: PICTURESQUE AND HISTORICAL. 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. 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