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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: The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning + Volume II + +Author: Elizabeth Barrett Browning + +Release Date: August 6, 2010 [EBook #33363] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETICAL WORKS OF E. B. BARRETT *** + + + + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Chandra Friend and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:440px;"> +<img src="images/frontis.png" width="440" height="556" alt="Elizabeth Barrett Moulton-Barrett" title="" /> +<p class="xsmall" style="float:left;clear:both;"><i>Mayou. Pinxt.</i></p> +<p class="xsmall" style="text-align:right;"><i>J. Brown. sc.</i></p> +<p class="caption center"><i>Elizabeth Barrett Moulton-Barrett,</i></p> +<p class="caption center"><i>in early youth.</i></p> +<p class="center xsmall">London Published by Smith, Elder & Co. 15, Waterloo Place.</p> + +</div> + +<h2 class="gap4">THE POETICAL WORKS</h2> +<h3>OF</h3> +<h1>ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING</h1> + +<p class="center gap4"><i>In Six Volumes</i></p> + +<p class="center gap4">VOL. II.</p> + + +<p class="center gap4">LONDON</p> +<p class="center">SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE</p> +<p class="center">1890</p> + + +<h2 class="gap4">CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr> +<td style="width:90%"> </td> +<td style="width:10%" class="center small">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">The Romaunt of Margret</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_ROMAUNT_OF_MARGRET">3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">Isobel's Child</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#ISOBELS_CHILD">15</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">The Romaunt of the Page</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_ROMAUNT_OF_THE_PAGE">40</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">The Lay of the Brown Rosary.</td> +<td class="tocnum"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap padleft">First Part</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_LAY_OF_THE_BROWN_ROSARY">57</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap padleft">Second Part</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_LAY_OF_THE_BROWN_ROSARY2">63</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap padleft">Third Part</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_LAY_OF_THE_BROWN_ROSARY3">72</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap padleft">Fourth Part</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_LAY_OF_THE_BROWN_ROSARY4">80</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">A Romance of the Ganges</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#A_ROMANCE_OF_THE_GANGES">83</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">Rhyme of the Duchess May</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#RHYME_OF_THE_DUCHESS_MAY">94</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap padleft">The Rhyme</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_RHYME">96</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">The Romance of the Swan's Nest</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_ROMANCE_OF_THE_SWANS_NEST">132</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">Bertha in the Lane</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#BERTHA_IN_THE_LANE">138</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">Lady Geraldine's Courtship</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#LADY_GERALDINES_COURTSHIP">150</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">The Runaway Slave at Pilgrim's Point</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_RUNAWAY_SLAVE_AT_PILGRIMS_POINT">192</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">The Cry of the Children</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_CRY_OF_THE_CHILDREN">205</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">A Child Asleep</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#A_CHILD_ASLEEP">213</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">The Fourfold Aspect</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_FOURFOLD_ASPECT">217</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">Night and the Merry Man.</td> +<td class="tocnum"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap padleft">Night</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#NIGHT_AND_THE_MERRY_MAN">223</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap padleft">The Merry Man</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_MERRY_MAN">224</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">Earth and her Praisers</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#EARTH_AND_HER_PRAISERS">229</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">The Virgin Mary to the Child Jesus</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_VIRGIN_MARY_TO_THE_CHILD_JESUS">239</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">An Island</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#AN_ISLAND">248</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">The Soul's Travelling</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_SOULS_TRAVELLING">259</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">To Bettine, the Child-Friend of Goethe</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#TO_BETTINE">270</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">Man and Nature</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#MAN_AND_NATURE">274</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">A Sea-side Walk</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#A_SEA-SIDE_WALK">276</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">The Sea-Mew</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#THE_SEA-MEW">278</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">Felicia Hemans to L. E. L.</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#FELICIA_HEMANS">281</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">L. E. L.'s Last Question</td> +<td class="tocnum"><a href="#L_E_LS_LAST_QUESTION">284</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<h2 class="gap4">POEMS</h2> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="THE_ROMAUNT_OF_MARGRET" id="THE_ROMAUNT_OF_MARGRET"></a><i>THE ROMAUNT OF MARGRET.</i></h2> + +<div class="poem small"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can my affections find out nothing best,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But still and still remove?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style="margin-left: 50%"><span class="smcap">Quarles.</span></p> + + +<p class="center gap2">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I plant a tree whose leaf<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The yew-tree leaf will suit:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when its shade is o'er you laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Turn round and pluck the fruit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now reach my harp from off the wall<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where shines the sun aslant;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun may shine and we be cold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O hearken, loving hearts and bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Unto my wild romaunt.<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sitteth the fair ladye<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Close to the river side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which runneth on with a merry tone<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Her merry thoughts to guide:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It runneth through the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">It runneth by the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nathless the lady's thoughts have found<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A way more pleasant still<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The night is in her hair<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And giveth shade to shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the pale moonlight on her forehead white<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like a spirit's hand is laid;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her lips part with a smile<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Instead of speakings done:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ween, she thinketh of a voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Albeit uttering none.<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">All little birds do sit<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With heads beneath their wings:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature doth seem in a mystic dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Absorbed from her living things:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That dream by that ladye<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is certes unpartook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she looketh to the high cold stars<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a tender human look<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The lady's shadow lies<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Upon the running river;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It lieth no less in its quietness,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For that which resteth never:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Most like a trusting heart<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Upon a passing faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or as upon the course of life<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The steadfast doom of death.<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The lady doth not move,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The lady doth not dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet she seeth her shade no longer laid<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In rest upon the stream:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It shaketh without wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">It parteth from the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It standeth upright in the cleft moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">It sitteth at her side.<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Look in its face, ladye,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And keep thee from thy swound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a spirit bold thy pulses hold<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And hear its voice's sound:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For so will sound thy voice<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When thy face is to the wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such will be thy face, ladye,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the maidens work thy pall.<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Am I not like to thee?"<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The voice was calm and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And between each word you might have heard<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The silent forests grow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"<i>The like may sway the like;</i>"<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By which mysterious law<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine eyes from thine and my lips from thine<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The light and breath may draw.<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"My lips do need thy breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My lips do need thy smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my pallid eyne, that light in thine<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which met the stars erewhile:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet go with light and life<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If that thou lovest one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the earth who loveth thee<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As truly as the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Her cheek had waxèd white<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like cloud at fall of snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then like to one at set of sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">It waxèd red alsò;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For love's name maketh bold<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As if the loved were near:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then she sighed the deep long sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which cometh after fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Now, sooth, I fear thee not—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Shall never fear thee now!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(And a noble sight was the sudden light<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which lit her lifted brow.)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Can earth be dry of streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or hearts of love?" she said;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Who doubteth love, can know not love:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He is already dead."<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"I have" ... and here her lips<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Some word in pause did keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gave the while a quiet smile<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As if they paused in sleep,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"I have ... a brother dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A knight of knightly fame!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I broidered him a knightly scarf<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With letters of my name<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"I fed his grey goshawk,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I kissed his fierce bloodhoùnd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sate at home when he might come<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And caught his horn's far sound:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I sang him hunter's songs,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I poured him the red wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He looked across the cup and said,<br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>I love thee, sister mine.</i>"<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">IT trembled on the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a low, shadowy laughter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sounding river which rolled, for ever<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Stood dumb and stagnant after:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Brave knight thy brother is!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But better loveth he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy chaliced wine than thy chaunted song,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And better both than thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The lady did not heed<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The river's silence while<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her own thoughts still ran at their will,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And calm was still her smile.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"My little sister wears<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The look our mother wore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I smooth her locks with a golden comb,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I bless her evermore."<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"I gave her my first bird<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When first my voice it knew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I made her share my posies rare<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And told her where they grew:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I taught her God's dear name<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With prayer and praise to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She looked from heaven into my face<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And said, <i>I love thee well.</i>"<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">IT trembled on the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a low, shadowy laughter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You could see each bird as it woke and stared<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through the shrivelled foliage after.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Fair child thy sister is!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But better loveth she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy golden comb than thy gathered flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And better both than thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thy lady did not heed<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The withering on the bough;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still calm her smile albeit the while<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A little pale her brow:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"I have a father old,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The lord of ancient halls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An hundred friends are in his court<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Yet only me he calls.<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"An hundred knights are in his court<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Yet read I by his knee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when forth they go to the tourney-show<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I rise not up to see:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'T is a weary book to read,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My tryst's at set of sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But loving and dear beneath the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is his blessing when I've done."<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">IT trembled on the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a low, shadowy laughter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And moon and star though bright and far<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Did shrink and darken after.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"High lord thy father is!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But better loveth he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His ancient halls than his hundred friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His ancient halls, than thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The lady did not heed<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That the far stars did fail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still calm her smile, albeit the while ...<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nay, but she is not pale!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"I have more than a friend<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Across the mountains dim:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other's voice is soft to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Unless it nameth <i>him</i>."<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Though louder beats my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I know his tread again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his fair plume aye, unless turned away,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For the tears do blind me then:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We brake no gold, a sign<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of stronger faith to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I wear his last look in my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which said, <i>I love but thee!</i>"<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">IT trembled on the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a low, shadowy laughter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wind did toll, as a passing soul<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Were sped by church-bell after;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shadows, 'stead of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fell from the stars above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In flakes of darkness on her face<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Still bright with trusting love.<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"He <i>loved</i> but only thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>That</i> love is transient too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild hawk's bill doth dabble still<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I' the mouth that vowed thee true:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will he open his dull eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When tears fall on his brow?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold, the death-worm to his heart<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is a nearer thing than <i>thou</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Her face was on the ground—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">None saw the agony;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the men at sea did that night agree<br /></span> +<span class="i4">They heard a drowning cry:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when the morning brake,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fast rolled the river's tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the green trees waving overhead<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And a white corse laid beside.<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">A knight's bloodhound and he<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The funeral watch did keep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a thought o' the chase he stroked its face<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As it howled to see him weep.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A fair child kissed the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But shrank before its cold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And alone yet proudly in his hall<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Did stand a baron old.<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Hang up my harp again!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I have no voice for song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not song but wail, and mourners pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Not bards, to love belong.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O failing human love!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O light, by darkness known!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O false, the while thou treadest earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O deaf beneath the stone!<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Margret, Margret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="ISOBELS_CHILD" id="ISOBELS_CHILD"></a><i>ISOBEL'S CHILD.</i></h2> + +<div class="poem small"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">——so find we profit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By losing of our prayers.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style="margin-left: 50%;"><span class="smcap">Shakespeare.</span></p> + + +<p class="center gap2">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To rest the weary nurse has gone:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An eight-day watch had watchèd she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still rocking beneath sun and moon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The baby on her knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Isobel its mother said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The fever waneth—wend to bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For now the watch comes round to me."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then wearily the nurse did throw<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Her pallet in the darkest place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that sick room, and slept and dreamed:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For, as the gusty wind did blow<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The night-lamp's flare across her face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She saw or seemed to see, but dreamed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That the poplars tall on the opposite hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seven tall poplars on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did clasp the setting sun until<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His rays dropped from him, pined and still<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As blossoms in frost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he waned and paled, so weirdly crossed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the colour of moonlight which doth pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the dank ridged churchyard grass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poplars held the sun, and he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eyes of the nurse that they should not see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Not for a moment, the babe on her knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though she shuddered to feel that it grew to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too chill, and lay too heavily.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She only dreamed; for all the while<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'T was Lady Isobel that kept<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The little baby: and it slept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fast, warm, as if its mother's smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laden with love's dewy weight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And red as rose of Harpocrate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dropt upon its eyelids, pressed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lashes to cheek in a sealèd rest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And more and more smiled Isobel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the baby sleep so well—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She knew not that she smiled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the lattice, dull and wild<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drive the heavy droning drops,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Drop by drop, the sound being one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As momently time's segments fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the ear of God, who hears through all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Eternity's unbroken monotone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And more and more smiled Isobel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the baby sleep so well—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She knew not that she smiled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind in intermission stops<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down in the beechen forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then cries aloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As one at the sorest,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Self-stung, self-driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rises up to its very tops,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stiffening erect the branches bowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dilating with a tempest-soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trees that with their dark hands break<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through their own outline, and heavy roll<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shadows as massive as clouds in heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Across the castle lake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And more and more smiled Isobel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the baby sleep so well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She knew not that she smiled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She knew not that the storm was wild;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the uproar drear she could not hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The castle clock which struck anear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She heard the low, light breathing of her child.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O sight for wondering look!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the external nature broke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into such abandonment,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the very mist, heart-rent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the lightning, seemed to eddy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against nature, with a din,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sense of silence and of steady<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Natural calm appeared to come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From things without, and enter in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The human creature's room.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So motionless she sate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The babe asleep upon her knees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You might have dreamed their souls had gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away to things inanimate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In such to live, in such to moan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that their bodies had ta'en back,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In mystic change, all silences<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cross the sky in cloudy rack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or dwell beneath the reedy ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In waters safe from their own sound:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Only she wore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deepening smile I named before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And <i>that</i> a deepening love expressed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who at once can love and rest?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In sooth the smile that then was keeping<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watch upon the baby sleeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Floated with its tender light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Downward, from the drooping eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upward, from the lips apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over cheeks which had grown white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With an eight-day weeping:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All smiles come in such a wise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where tears shall fall or have of old—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like northern lights that fill the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of heaven in sign of cold.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Motionless she sate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hair had fallen by its weight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On each side of her smile and lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Very blackly on the arm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the baby nestled warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale as baby carved in stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seen by glimpses of the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up a dark cathedral aisle:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, through the storm, no moonbeam fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the child of Isobel—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps you saw it by the ray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alone of her still smile.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">A solemn thing it is to me<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To look upon a babe that sleeps<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Wearing in its spirit-deeps<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The undeveloped mystery<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of our Adam's taint and woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Which, when they developed be,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Will not let it slumber so;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Lying new in life beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The shadow of the coming death,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With that soft, low, quiet breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">As if it felt the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Knowing all things by their blooms,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Not their roots, yea, sun and sky<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Only by the warmth that comes<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Out of each, earth only by<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The pleasant hues that o'er it run,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And human love by drops of sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i8">White nourishment still hanging round<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The little mouth so slumber-bound:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">All which broken sentiency<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And conclusion incomplete,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Will gather and unite and climb<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To an immortality<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Good or evil, each sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Through life and death to life again.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">O little lids, now folded fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Must ye learn to drop at last<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Our large and burning tears?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O warm quick body, must thou lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">When the time comes round to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Still from all the whirl of years,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Bare of all the joy and pain?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O small frail being, wilt thou stand<br /></span> +<span class="i6">At God's right hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Lifting up those sleeping eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Dilated by great destinies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To an endless waking? thrones and seraphim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the long ranks of their solemnities,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunning thee with calm looks of Heaven's surprise,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But thine alone on Him?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or else, self-willed, to tread the Godless place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(God keep thy will!) feel thine own energies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cold, strong, objèctless, like a dead man's clasp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sleepless deathless life within thee grasp,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While myriad faces, like one changeless face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With woe <i>not love's</i>, shall glass thee everywhere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And overcome thee with thine own despair?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">More soft, less solemn images<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drifted o'er the lady's heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Silently as snow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She had seen eight days depart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hour by hour, on bended knees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With pale-wrung hands and prayings low<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And broken, through which came the sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tears that fell against the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making sad stops.—"Dear Lord, dear Lord!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She still had prayed, (the heavenly word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broken by an earthly sigh)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—"Thou who didst not erst deny<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mother-joy to Mary mild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blessèd in the blessèd child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which hearkened in meek babyhood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her cradle-hymn, albeit used<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To all that music interfused<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In breasts of angels high and good!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, take not, Lord, my babe away—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, take not to thy songful heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pretty baby thou hast given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or ere that I have seen him play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around his father's knees and known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That <i>he</i> knew how my love has gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all the world to him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think, God among the cherubim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How I shall shiver every day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy June sunshine, knowing where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grave-grass keeps it from his fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still cheeks: and feel, at every tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His little body, which is dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hidden in thy turfy fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth make thy whole warm earth a-cold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O God, I am so young, so young—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am not used to tears at nights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instead of slumber—not to prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sobbing lips and hands out-wrung!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou knowest all my prayings were<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'I bless thee, God, for past delights—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thank God!' I am not used to bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hard thoughts of death; the earth doth cover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No face from me of friend or lover:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And must the first who teaches me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The form of shrouds and funerals, be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine own first-born belovèd? he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who taught me first this mother-love?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear Lord who spreadest out above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy loving, transpierced hands to meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All lifted hearts with blessing sweet,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pierce not my heart, my tender heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou madest tender! Thou who art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So happy in thy heaven alway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take not mine only bliss away!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She so had prayed: and God, who hears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through seraph-songs the sound of tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From that belovèd babe had ta'en<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fever and the beating pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And more and more smiled Isobel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the baby sleep so well,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(She knew not that she smiled, I wis)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until the pleasant gradual thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which near her heart the smile enwrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now soft and slow, itself did seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To float along a happy dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beyond it into speech like this.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I prayed for thee, my little child,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And God has heard my prayer!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when thy babyhood is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We two together undefiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By men's repinings, will kneel down<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon His earth which will be fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Not covering thee, sweet!) to us twain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And give Him thankful praise."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dully and wildly drives the rain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the lattices drives the rain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I thank Him now, that I can think<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of those same future days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor from the harmless image shrink<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of what I there might see—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strange babies on their mothers' knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose innocent soft faces might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From off mine eyelids strike the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With looks not meant for me!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gustily blows the wind through the rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As against the lattices drives the rain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But now, O baby mine, together,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We turn this hope of ours again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To many an hour of summer weather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we shall sit and intertwine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our spirits, and instruct each other<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the pure loves of child and mother!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two human loves make one divine."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The thunder tears through the wind and the rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As full on the lattices drives the rain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My little child, what wilt thou choose?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now let me look at thee and ponder.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What gladness, from the gladnesses<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Futurity is spreading under<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy gladsome sight? Beneath the trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou lean all day, and lose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy spirit with the river seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Intermittently between<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The winding beechen alleys,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half in labour, half repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a shepherd keeping sheep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou, with only thoughts to keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which never a bound will overpass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And which are innocent as those<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That feed among Arcadian valleys<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Upon the dewy grass?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The large white owl that with age is blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That hath sate for years in the old tree hollow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is carried away in a gust of wind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His wings could beat him not as fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he goeth now the lattice past;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He is borne by the winds, the rains do follow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His white wings to the blast outflowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He hooteth in going,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still, in the lightnings, coldly glitter<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His round unblinking eyes<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Or, baby, wilt thou think it fitter<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To be eloquent and wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One upon whose lips the air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Turns to solemn verities<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For men to breathe anew, and win<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A deeper-seated life within?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt be a philosopher,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By whose voice the earth and skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall speak to the unborn?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a poet, broadly spreading<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The golden immortalities<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy soul on natures lorn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And poor of such, them all to guard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From their decay,—beneath thy treading,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth's flowers recovering hues of Eden,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stars, drawn downward by thy looks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shine ascendant in thy books?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The tame hawk in the castle-yard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How it screams to the lightning, with its wet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jagged plumes overhanging the parapet!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at the lady's door the hound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scratches with a crying sound.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But, O my babe, thy lids are laid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Close, fast upon thy cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not a dream of power and sheen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can make a passage up between;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy heart is of thy mother's made,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy looks are very meek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it will be their chosen place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rest on some beloved face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As these on thine, and let the noise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the whole world go on nor drown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tender silence of thy joys:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or when that silence shall have grown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too tender for itself, the same<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yearning for sound,—to look above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And utter its one meaning, <span class="small">LOVE</span>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That <i>He</i> may hear His name."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No wind, no rain, no thunder!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waters had trickled not slowly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thunder was not spent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the wind near finishing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who would have said that the storm was diminishing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wind, no rain, no thunder!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their noises dropped asunder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the earth and the firmament,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the towers and the lattices,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abrupt and echoless<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ripe fruits on the ground unshaken wholly<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As life in death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sudden and solemn the silence fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Startling the heart of Isobel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the tempest could not:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the door went panting the breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the lady's hound whose cry was still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she, constrained howe'er she would not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifted her eyes and saw the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looking out of heaven alone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the poplared hill,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A calm of God, made visible<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That men might bless it at their will.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moonshine on the baby's face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Falleth clear and cold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mother's looks have fallen back<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the same place:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because no moon with silver rack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor broad sunrise in jasper skies<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Has power to hold<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Our loving eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which still revert, as ever must<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wonder and Hope, to gaze on the dust.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moonshine on the baby's face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cold and clear remaineth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mother's looks do shrink away,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mother's looks return to stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As charmèd by what paineth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is any glamour in the case?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is it dream, or is it sight?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath the change upon the wild<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Elements that sign the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passed upon the child?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is not dream, but sight.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The babe has awakened from sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And unto the gaze of its mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bent over it, lifted another—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not the baby-looks that go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unaimingly to and fro,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But an earnest gazing deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as soul gives soul at length<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When by work and wail of years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It winneth a solemn strength<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mourneth as it wears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A strong man could not brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With pulse unhurried by fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet that baby's look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'erglazed by manhood's tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tears of a man full grown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a power to wring our own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the eyes all undefiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a little three-months' child—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see that babe-brow wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the witnessing of thought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To judgment's prodigy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the small soft mouth unweaned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By mother's kiss o'erleaned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Putting the sound of loving<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where no sound else was moving<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Except the speechless cry)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quickened to mind's expression,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shaped to articulation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, uttering words, yea, naming woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In tones that with it strangely went<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because so baby-innocent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the child spake out to the mother, so:—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O mother, mother, loose thy prayer!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Christ's name hath made it strong.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It bindeth me, it holdeth me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its most loving cruelty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From floating my new soul along<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The happy heavenly air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It bindeth me, it holdeth me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all this dark, upon this dull<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low earth, by only weepers trod.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It bindeth me, it holdeth me!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mine angel looketh sorrowful<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the face of God.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Mother, mother, can I dream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath your earthly trees?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had a vision and a gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I heard a sound more sweet than these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When rippled by the wind:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did you see the Dove with wings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bathed in golden glisterings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From a sunless light behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dropping on me from the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft as mother's kiss, until<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seemed to leap and yet was still?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Saw you how His love-large eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looked upon me mystic calms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the power of His divine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vision was indrawn to mine?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, the dream within the dream!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I saw celestial places even.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the vistas of high palms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Making finites of delight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the heavenly infinite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifting up their green still tops<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the heaven of heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the sweet life-tree that drops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shade like light across the river<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glorified in its for-ever<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flowing from the Throne!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the shining holinesses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the thousand, thousand faces<br /></span> +<span class="i2">God-sunned by the thronèd <span class="smcap">One</span>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made intense with such a love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, though I saw them turned above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each loving seemed for also me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, oh, the Unspeakable, the <span class="smcap">He</span>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The manifest in secrecies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet of mine own heart partaker<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the overcoming look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of One who hath been once forsook<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blesseth the forsaker!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mother, mother, let me go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toward the Face that looketh so!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the mystic wingèd Four<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose are inward, outward eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark with light of mysteries<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the restless evermore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Holy, holy, holy,'—through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sevenfold Lamps that burn in view<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of cherubim and seraphim,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the four-and-twenty crowned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stately elders white around,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Suffer me to go to Him!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Is your wisdom very wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mother, on the narrow earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Very happy, very worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I should stay to learn?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are these air-corrupting sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fashioned by unlearnèd breath?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do the students' lamps that burn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All night, illumine death?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mother, albeit this be so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loose thy prayer and let me go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where that bright chief angel stands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apart from all his brother bands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too glad for smiling, having bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In angelic wilderment<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the depths of God, and brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reeling thence one only thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fill his own eternity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He the teacher is for me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He can teach what I would know—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mother, mother, let me go!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Can your poet make an Eden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No winter will undo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And light a starry fire while heeding<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His hearth's is burning too?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drown in music the earth's din,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And keep his own wild soul within<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The law of his own harmony?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mother, albeit this be so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me to my heaven go!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A little harp me waits thereby,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A harp whose strings are golden all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tuned to music spherical,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hanging on the green life-tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where no willows ever be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I miss that harp of mine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mother, no!—the Eye divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turned upon it, makes it shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I touch it, poems sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like separate souls shall fly from it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each to the immortal fytte.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We shall all be poets there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gazing on the chiefest Fair.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Love! earth's love! and <i>can</i> we love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fixedly where all things move?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can the sinning love each other?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mother, mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tremble in thy close embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel thy tears adown my face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy prayers do keep me out of bliss—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O dreary earthly love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loose thy prayer and let me go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the place which loving is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet not sad; and when is given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Escape to <i>thee</i> from this below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt behold me that I wait<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee beside the happy Gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And silence shall be up in heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hear our greeting kiss."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The nurse awakes in the morning sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And starts to see beside her bed<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The lady with a grandeur spread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like pathos o'er her face, as one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">God-satisfied and earth-undone;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The babe upon her arm was dead:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the nurse could utter forth no cry,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was awed by the calm in the mother's eye.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Wake, nurse!" the lady said;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"<i>We</i> are waking—he and I—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I, on earth, and he, in sky:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou must help me to o'erlay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With garment white this little clay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which needs no more our lullaby.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I changed the cruel prayer I made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bowed my meekened face, and prayed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That God would do His will; and thus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He did it, nurse! He parted us:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And His sun shows victorious<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dead calm face,—and <i>I</i> am calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heaven is hearkening a new psalm.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"This earthly noise is too anear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too loud, and will not let me hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little harp. My death will soon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make silence."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">And a sense of tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A satisfied love meanwhile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which nothing earthly could despoil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sang on within her soul.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Oh you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth's tender and impassioned few,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take courage to entrust your love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Him so named who guards above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its ends and shall fulfil!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breaking the narrow prayers that may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Befit your narrow hearts, away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In His broad, loving will.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<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> For I say unto you that in Heaven their angels do always behold +the face of my Father which is in Heaven—<i>Matt.</i> xviii, 10.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="THE_ROMAUNT_OF_THE_PAGE" id="THE_ROMAUNT_OF_THE_PAGE"></a><i>THE ROMAUNT OF THE PAGE.</i></h2> + + +<p class="center gap2">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">A knight of gallant deeds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a young page at his side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the holy war in Palestine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did slow and thoughtful ride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As each were a palmer and told for beads<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dews of the eventide.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"O young page," said the knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"A noble page art thou!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou fearest not to steep in blood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The curls upon thy brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And once in the tent, and twice in the fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Didst ward me a mortal blow."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"O brave knight," said the page,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Or ere we hither came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We talked in tent, we talked in field,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the bloody battle-game;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But here, below this greenwood bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I cannot speak the same.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Our troop is far behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The woodland calm is new;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our steeds, with slow grass-muffled hoofs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tread deep the shadows through;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in my mind, some blessing kind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is dropping with the dew.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"The woodland calm is pure—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I cannot choose but have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thought from these, o' the beechen-trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which in our England wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of the little finches fine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which sang there while in Palestine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The warrior-hilt we drave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Methinks, a moment gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I heard my mother pray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard, sir knight, the prayer for me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherein she passed away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I know the heavens are leaning down<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hear what I shall say."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">The page spake calm and high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As of no mean degree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps he felt in nature's broad<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full heart, his own was free:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the knight looked up to his lifted eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then answered smilingly—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Sir page, I pray your grace!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Certes, I meant not so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cross your pastoral mood, sir page,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the crook of the battle-bow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a knight may speak of a lady's face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ween, in any mood or place,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If the grasses die or grow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"And this I meant to say—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My lady's face shall shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ladies' faces use, to greet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My page from Palestine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, speak she fair or prank she gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She is no lady of mine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"And this I meant to fear—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her bower may suit thee ill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, sooth, in that same field and tent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy <i>talk</i> was somewhat still:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fitter thy hand for my knightly spear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than thy tongue for my lady's will!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Slowly and thankfully<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The young page bowed his head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His large eyes seemed to muse a smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Until he blushed instead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no lady in her bower, pardiè,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could blush more sudden red:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sir Knight,—thy lady's bower to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is suited well," he said.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8"><i>Beati, beati, mortui!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8">From the convent on the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">One mile off, or scarce so nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Swells the dirge as clear and high<br /></span> +<span class="i8">As if that, over brake and lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Bodily the wind did carry<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The great altar of Saint Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And the fifty tapers burning o'er it,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And the lady Abbess dead before it,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And the chanting nuns whom yesterweek<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Her voice did charge and bless,—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Chanting steady, chanting meek,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Chanting with a solemn breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Because that they are thinking less<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Upon the dead than upon death.<br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>Beati, beati, mortui!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8">Now the vision in the sound<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Wheeleth on the wind around;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Now it sweepeth back, away—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The uplands will not let it stay<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To dark the western sun:<br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>Mortui!</i>—away at last,—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Or ere the page's blush is past!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the knight heard all, and the page heard none.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i8">"A boon, thou noble knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">If ever I servèd thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though thou art a knight and I am a page,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Now grant a boon to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell me sooth, if dark or bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If little loved or loved aright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be the face of thy ladye."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Gloomily looked the knight—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"As a son thou hast servèd me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And would to none I had granted boon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Except to only thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For haply then I should love aright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For then I should know if dark or bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were the face of my ladye.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Yet it ill suits my knightly tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To grudge that granted boon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heavy price from heart and life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I paid in silence down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hand that claimed it, cleared in fine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father's fame: I swear by mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That price was nobly won!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Earl Walter was a brave old earl,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He was my father's friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while I rode the lists at court<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And little guessed the end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My noble father in his shroud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against a slanderer lying loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He rose up to defend.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, calm below the marble grey<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My father's dust was strown!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, meek above the marble grey<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His image prayed alone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The slanderer lied: the wretch was brave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, looking up the minster-nave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He saw my father's knightly glaive<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was changed from steel to stone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Earl Walter's glaive was steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a brave old hand to wear it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dashed the lie back in the mouth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which lied against the godly truth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And against the knightly merit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The slanderer, 'neath the avenger's heel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Struck up the dagger in appeal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From stealthy lie to brutal force—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And out upon the traitor's corse<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was yielded the true spirit.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"I would mine hand had fought that fight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And justified my father!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would mine heart had caught that wound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And slept beside him rather!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think it were a better thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than murdered friend and marriage-ring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forced on my life together.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Wail shook Earl Walter's house;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His true wife shed no tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She lay upon her bed as mute<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the earl did on his bier:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till—'Ride, ride fast,' she said at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'And bring the avengèd's son anear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ride fast, ride free, as a dart can flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For white of blee with waiting for me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the corse in the next chambère.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"I came, I knelt beside her bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her calm was worse than strife:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'My husband, for thy father dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave freely when thou wast not here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His own and eke my life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A boon! Of that sweet child we make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An orphan for thy father's sake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make thou, for ours, a wife.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"I said, 'My steed neighs in the court,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My bark rocks on the brine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the warrior's vow I am under now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To free the pilgrim's shrine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fetch the ring and fetch the priest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And call that daughter of thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rule she wide from my castle on Nyde<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While I am in Palestine.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"In the dark chambère, if the bride was fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye wis, I could not see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the steed thrice neighed, and the priest fast prayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wedded fast were we.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mother smiled upon her bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As at its side we knelt to wed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the bride rose from her knee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kissed the smile of her mother dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or ever she kissed me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"My page, my page, what grieves thee so,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That the tears run down thy face?"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Alas, alas! mine own sistèr<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was in thy lady's case:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But <i>she</i> laid down the silks she wore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And followed him she wed before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disguised as his true servitor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the very battle-place."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">And wept the page, but laughed the knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A careless laugh laughed he:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Well done it were for thy sistèr,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But not for my ladye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love, so please you, shall requite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No woman, whether dark or bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unwomaned if she be."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">The page stopped weeping and smiled cold—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Your wisdom may declare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That womanhood is proved the best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By golden brooch and glossy vest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mincing ladies wear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet is it proved, and was of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anear as well, I dare to hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By truth, or by despair."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">He smiled no more, he wept no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But passionate he spake—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, womanly she prayed in tent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When none beside did wake!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, womanly she paled in fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For one belovèd's sake!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her little hand, defiled with blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her tender tears of womanhood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Most woman-pure did make!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">—"Well done it were for thy sistèr,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou tellest well her tale!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for my lady, she shall pray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I' the kirk of Nydesdale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not dread for me but love for me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall make my lady pale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No casque shall hide her woman's tear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall have room to trickle clear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Behind her woman's veil."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">—"But what if she mistook thy mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And followed thee to strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then kneeling did entreat thy love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As Paynims ask for life?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—"I would forgive, and evermore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would love her as my servitor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But little as my wife.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Look up—there is a small bright cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alone amid the skies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So high, so pure, and so apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A woman's honour lies."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The page looked up—the cloud was sheen—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sadder cloud did rush, I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Betwixt it and his eyes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Then dimly dropped his eyes away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From welkin unto hill—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ha! who rides there?—the page is 'ware,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though the cry at his heart is still:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the page seeth all and the knight seeth none,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though banner and spear do fleck the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the Saracens ride at will.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">He speaketh calm, he speaketh low,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Ride fast, my master, ride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or ere within the broadening dark<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The narrow shadows hide."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Yea, fast, my page, I will do so,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And keep thou at my side."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Now nay, now nay, ride on thy way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy faithful page precede.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I must loose on saddle-bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My battle-casque that galls, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shoulder of my steed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I must pray, as I did vow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For one in bitter need.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Ere night I shall be near to thee,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now ride, my master, ride!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere night, as parted spirits cleave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mortals too beloved to leave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I shall be at thy side."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The knight smiled free at the fantasy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And adown the dell did ride.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Had the knight looked up to the page's face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No smile the word had won;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had the knight looked up to the page's face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I ween he had never gone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had the knight looked back to the page's geste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I ween he had turned anon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For dread was the woe in the face so young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wild was the silent geste that flung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Casque, sword to earth, as the boy down-sprung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And stood—alone, alone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">He clenched his hands as if to hold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His soul's great agony—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Have I renounced my womanhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For wifehood unto <i>thee</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And is this the last, last look of thine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ever I shall see?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Yet God thee save, and mayst thou have<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A lady to thy mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More woman-proud and half as true<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As one thou leav'st behind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And God me take with <span class="smcap">Him</span> to dwell—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For <span class="smcap">Him</span> I cannot love too well,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As I have loved my kind."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">She looketh up, in earth's despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hopeful heavens to seek;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That little cloud still floateth there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whereof her loved did speak:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How bright the little cloud appears!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyelids fall upon the tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the tears down either cheek.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">The tramp of hoof, the flash of steel—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Paynims round her coming!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sound and sight have made her calm,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">False page, but truthful woman;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She stands amid them all unmoved:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A heart once broken by the loved<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is strong to meet the foeman.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XL.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Ho, Christian page! art keeping sheep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From pouring wine-cups resting?"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I keep my master's noble name,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For warring, not for feasting;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if that here Sir Hubert were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My master brave, my master dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye would not stay the questing."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XLI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Where is thy master, scornful page,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That we may slay or bind him?"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Now search the lea and search the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And see if ye can find him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nathless, as hath been often tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your Paynim heroes faster ride<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before him than behind him."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XLII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Give smoother answers, lying page,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or perish in the lying!"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I trow that if the warrior brand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside my foot, were in my hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'T were better at replying!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cursed her deep, they smote her low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cleft her golden ringlets through;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Loving is the Dying.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XLIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">She felt the scimitar gleam down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And met it from beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With smile more bright in victory<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than any sword from sheath,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which flashed across her lip serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most like the spirit-light between<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The darks of life and death.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XLIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i2"><i>Ingemisco, ingemisco!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the convent on the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now it sweepeth solemnly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As over wood and over lea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bodily the wind did carry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The great altar of St. Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the fifty tapers paling o'er it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Lady Abbess stark before it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the weary nuns with hearts that faintly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beat along their voices saintly—<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Ingemisco, ingemisco!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dirge for abbess laid in shroud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweepeth o'er the shroudless dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Page or lady, as we said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the dews upon her head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All as sad if not as loud.<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Ingemisco, ingemisco!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is ever a lament begun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By any mourner under sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, ere it endeth, suits but <i>one</i>?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="THE_LAY_OF_THE_BROWN_ROSARY" id="THE_LAY_OF_THE_BROWN_ROSARY"></a><i>THE LAY OF THE BROWN ROSARY.</i></h2> + + +<h3 class="gap2">FIRST PART.</h3> + + +<p class="center gap2">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Onora, Onora,"—her mother is calling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sits at the lattice and hears the dew falling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drop after drop from the sycamores laden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With dew as with blossom, and calls home the maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">"Night cometh, Onora."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She looks down the garden-walk caverned with trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the limes at the end where the green arbour is—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Some sweet thought or other may keep where it found her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, forgot or unseen in the dreamlight around her,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Night cometh—Onora!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She looks up the forest whose alleys shoot on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the mute minster-aisles when the anthem is done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the choristers sitting with faces aslant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feel the silence to consecrate more than the chant—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">"Onora, Onora!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And forward she looketh across the brown heath—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Onora, art coming?"—what is it she seeth?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nought, nought but the grey border-stone that is wist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dilate and assume a wild shape in the mist—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">"My daughter!" Then over<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The casement she leaneth, and as she doth so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is 'ware of her little son playing below:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Now where is Onora?" He hung down his head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spake not, then answering blushed scarlet-red,—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">"At the tryst with her lover."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But his mother was wroth: in a sternness quoth she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"As thou play'st at the ball art thou playing with me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we know that her lover to battle is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the saints know above that she loveth but one<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And will ne'er wed another?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the boy wept aloud; 't was a fair sight yet sad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the tears run down the sweet blooms he had:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stamped with his foot, said—"The saints know I lied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because truth that is wicked is fittest to hide:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Must I utter it, mother?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In his vehement childhood he hurried within<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And knelt at her feet as in prayer against sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a child at a prayer never sobbeth as he—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh! she sits with the nun of the brown rosary,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">At nights in the ruin—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The old convent ruin the ivy rots off,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the owl hoots by day and the toad is sun-proof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where no singing-birds build and the trees gaunt and grey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in stormy sea-coasts appear blasted one way—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But is <i>this</i> the wind's doing?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A nun in the east wall was buried alive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who mocked at the priest when he called her to shrive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shrieked such a curse, as the stone took her breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old abbess fell backwards and swooned unto death<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With an Ave half-spoken.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I tried once to pass it, myself and my hound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, as fearing the lash, down he shivered to ground—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A brave hound, my mother! a brave hound, ye wot!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wolf thought the same with his fangs at her throat<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In the pass of the Brocken.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"At dawn and at eve, mother, who sitteth there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the brown rosary never used for a prayer?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stoop low, mother, low! If we went there to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What an ugly great hole in that east wall must be<br /></span> +<span class="i6">At dawn and at even!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Who meet there, my mother, at dawn and at even?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who meet by that wall, never looking to heaven?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sweetest my sister, what doeth with <i>thee</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ghost of a nun with a brown rosary<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And a face turned from heaven?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Saint Agnes o'erwatcheth my dreams and erewhile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have felt through mine eyelids the warmth of her smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But last night, as a sadness like pity came o'er her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She whispered—'Say <i>two</i> prayers at dawn for Onora:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The Tempted is sinning.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Onora, Onora!" they heard her not coming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a step on the grass, not a voice through the gloaming;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But her mother looked up, and she stood on the floor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair and still as the moonlight that came there before,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And a smile just beginning:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It touches her lips but it dares not arise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the height of the mystical sphere of her eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the large musing eyes, neither joyous nor sorry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing on like the angels in separate glory<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Between clouds of amber;<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For the hair droops in clouds amber-coloured till stirred<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into gold by the gesture that comes with a word;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While—O soft!—her speaking is so interwound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the dim and the sweet, 't is a twilight of sound<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And floats through the chamber.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Since thou shrivest my brother, fair mother," said she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I count on thy priesthood for marrying of me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I know by the hills that the battle is done.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my lover rides on, will be here with the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">'Neath the eyes that behold thee."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her mother sat silent—too tender, I wis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the smile her dead father smiled dying to kiss:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the boy started up pale with tears, passion-wrought—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O wicked fair sister, the hills utter nought!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">If he cometh, who told thee?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I know by the hills," she resumed calm and clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"By the beauty upon them, that <span class="small">HE</span> is anear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did they ever look <i>so</i> since he bade me adieu?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, love in the waking, sweet brother, is true,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">As Saint Agnes in sleeping!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center gap2">XXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Half-ashamed and half-softened the boy did not speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the blush met the lashes which fell on his cheek:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She bowed down to kiss him: dear saints, did he see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or feel on her bosom the <span class="small">BROWN ROSARY</span>,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That he shrank away weeping?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3 class="gap2"><a name="THE_LAY_OF_THE_BROWN_ROSARY2" id="THE_LAY_OF_THE_BROWN_ROSARY2"></a>SECOND PART.</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>A bed.</i> <span class="smcap">Onora</span>, <i>sleeping.</i> Angels, <i>but not near.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><i>First Angel.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Must we stand so far, and she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So very fair?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Second Angel.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">As bodies be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>First Angel.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And she so mild?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Second Angel.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">As spirits when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They meeken, not to God, but men.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>First Angel.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And she so young, that I who bring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Good dreams for saintly children, might<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mistake that small soft face to-night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fetch her such a blessèd thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That at her waking she would weep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For childhood lost anew in sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How hath she sinned?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Second Angel.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">In bartering love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's love for man's.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>First Angel.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">We may reprove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world for this, not only her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me approach to breathe away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This dust o' the heart with holy air.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Second Angel.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stand off! She sleeps, and did not pray.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>First Angel.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Did none pray for her?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Second Angel.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Ay, a child,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who never, praying, wept before:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, in a mother undefiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prayer goeth on in sleep, as true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pauseless as the pulses do.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>First Angel.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then I approach.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Second Angel.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">It is not <span class="small">WILLED</span>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>First Angel.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One word: is she redeemed?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Second Angel.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">No more!<br /></span> +<span class="i0" style="float:left;">The place is filled.<br /></span> +<div style="text-align:right;">[Angels <i>vanish</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Evil Spirit (in a Nun's garb by the bed).</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Forbear that dream—forbear that dream! too near to heaven it leaned.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Onora (in sleep).</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Nay, leave me this—but only this! 't is but a dream, sweet fiend!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Evil Spirit.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">It is a <i>thought</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Onora (in sleep).</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i8">A sleeping thought—most innocent of good:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It doth the Devil no harm, sweet fiend! it cannot if it would.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I say in it no holy hymn, I do no holy work,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I scarcely hear the sabbath-bell that chimeth from the kirk.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Evil Spirit.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Forbear that dream—forbear that dream!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Onora (in sleep).</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i6">Nay, let me dream at least.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That far-off bell, it may be took for viol at a feast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only walk among the fields, beneath the autumn-sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my dead father, hand in hand, as I have often done.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Evil Spirit.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Forbear that dream—forbear that dream!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Onora (in sleep).</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i8">Nay, sweet fiend, let me go:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never more can walk with <i>him</i>, oh, never more but so!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they have tied my father's feet beneath the kirk-yard stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, deep and straight! oh, very straight! they move at nights alone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then he calleth through my dreams, he calleth tenderly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Come forth, my daughter, my beloved, and walk the fields with me!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Evil Spirit.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Forbear that dream, or else disprove its pureness by a sign.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Onora (in sleep).</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Speak on, thou shalt be satisfied, my word shall answer thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard a bird which used to sing when I a child was praying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see the poppies in the corn I used to sport away in:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shall I do—tread down the dew and pull the blossoms blowing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or clap my wicked hands to fright the finches from the rowan?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Evil Spirit.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt do something harder still. Stand up where thou dost stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the fields of Dreamland with thy father hand in hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clear and slow repeat the vow, declare its cause and kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which not to break, in sleep or wake thou bearest on thy mind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Onora (in sleep).</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">I bear a vow of sinful kind, a vow for mournful cause;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I vowed it deep, I vowed it strong, the spirits laughed applause:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirits trailed along the pines low laughter like a breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, high atween their swinging tops, the stars appeared to freeze.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Evil Spirit.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">More calm and free, speak out to me why such a vow was made.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Onora (in sleep).</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Because that God decreed my death and I shrank back afraid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have patience, O dead father mine! I did not fear to die—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish I were a young dead child and had thy company!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish I lay beside thy feet, a buried three-year child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wearing only a kiss of thine upon my lips that smiled!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The linden-tree that covers thee might so have shadowed twain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For death itself I did not fear—'t is love that makes the pain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love feareth death. I was no child, I was betrothed that day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wore a troth-kiss on my lips I could not give away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How could I bear to lie content and still beneath a stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feel mine own betrothed go by—alas! no more mine own—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go leading by in wedding pomp some lovely lady brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With cheeks that blushed as red as rose, while mine were white in grave?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How could I bear to sit in heaven, on e'er so high a throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hear him say to her—to <i>her</i>! that else he loveth none?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though e'er so high I sate above, though e'er so low he spake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As clear as thunder I should hear the new oath he might take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hers, forsooth, were heavenly eyes—ah me, while very dim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some heavenly eyes (indeed of heaven!) would darken down to <i>him</i>!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Evil Spirit.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Who told thee thou wast called to death?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Onora (in sleep).</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i14">I sate all night beside thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grey owl on the ruined wall shut both his eyes to hide thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever he flapped his heavy wing all brokenly and weak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the long grass waved against the sky, around his gasping beak.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sate beside thee all the night, while the moonlight lay forlorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strewn round us like a dead world's shroud in ghastly fragments torn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the night, and through the hush, and over the flapping<br /></span> +<span class="i4">wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We heard beside the Heavenly Gate the angels murmuring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We heard them say, "Put day to day, and count the days to seven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And God will draw Onora up the golden stairs of heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet the Evil ones have leave that purpose to defer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if she has no need of <span class="smcap">Him</span>, He has no need of her."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Evil Spirit.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Speak out to me, speak bold and free.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Onora (in sleep).</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i14">And then I heard thee say—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I count upon my rosary brown the hours thou hast to stay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet God permits us Evil ones to put by that decree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since if thou hast no need of <span class="smcap">Him</span>, He has no need of thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if thou wilt forgo the sight of angels, verily<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy true love gazing on thy face shall guess what angels be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor bride shall pass, save thee" ... Alas!—my father's hand's a-cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The meadows seem ...<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Evil Spirit.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i8">Forbear the dream, or let the vow be told.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Onora (in sleep).</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">I vowed upon thy rosary brown, this string of antique beads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By charnel lichens overgrown, and dank among the weeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This rosary brown which is thine own,—lost soul of buried nun!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, lost by vow, wouldst render now all souls alike undone,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I vowed upon thy rosary brown,—and, till such vow should break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pledge always of living days 't was hung around my neck—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I vowed to thee on rosary (dead father, look not so!),<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I would not thank God in my weal, nor seek God in my woe.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Evil Spirit.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And canst thou prove ...<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Onora (in sleep).</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i10">O love, my love! I felt him near again!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw his steed on mountain-head, I heard it on the plain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was this no weal for me to feel? Is greater weal than this?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet when he came, I wept his name—and the angels heard but <i>his</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Evil Spirit.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Well done, well done!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Onora (in sleep).</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i8">Ah me, the sun! the dreamlight 'gins to pine,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah me, how dread can look the Dead! Aroint thee, father mine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="gap2 stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">She starteth from slumber, she sitteth upright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her breath comes in sobs, while she stares through the night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is nought; the great willow, her lattice before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Large-drawn in the moon, lieth calm on the floor:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But her hands tremble fast as their pulses and, free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the death-clasp, close over—the <span class="small">BROWN ROSARY</span>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3 class="gap2"><a name="THE_LAY_OF_THE_BROWN_ROSARY3" id="THE_LAY_OF_THE_BROWN_ROSARY3"></a>THIRD PART.</h3> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis a morn for a bridal; the merry bride-bell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rings clear through the green-wood that skirts the chapelle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the priest at the altar awaiteth the bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sacristans slyly are jesting aside<br /></span> +<span class="i8">At the work shall be doing;<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While down through the wood rides that fair company,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The youths with the courtship, the maids with the glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the chapel-cross opens to sight, and at once<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the maids sigh demurely and think for the nonce,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">"And so endeth a wooing!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the bride and the bridegroom are leading the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his hand on her rein, and a word yet to say;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her dropt eyelids suggest the soft answers beneath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the little quick smiles come and go with her breath<br /></span> +<span class="i8">When she sigheth or speaketh.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the tender bride-mother breaks off unaware<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From an Ave, to think that her daughter is fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till in nearing the chapel and glancing before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She seeth her little son stand at the door:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Is it play that he seeketh?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is it play, when his eyes wander innocent-wild<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sublimed with a sadness unfitting a child?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He trembles not, weeps not; the passion is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And calmly he kneels in their midst, with the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i8">On his head like a glory.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O fair-featured maids, ye are many!" he cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"But in fairness and vileness who matcheth the bride?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O brave-hearted youths, ye are many! but whom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the courage and woe can ye match with the groom<br /></span> +<span class="i8">As ye see them before ye?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out spake the bride's mother, "The vileness is thine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou shame thine own sister, a bride at the shrine!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out spake the bride's lover, "The vileness be mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he shame mine own wife at the hearth or the shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And the charge be unprovèd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Bring the charge, prove the charge, brother! speak it aloud:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let thy father and hers hear it deep in his shroud!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—"O father, thou seest, for dead eyes can see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How she wears on her bosom a <span class="small">BROWN ROSARY</span>,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">O my father belovèd!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then outlaughed the bridegroom, and outlaughed withal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both maidens and youths by the old chapel-wall:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"So she weareth no love-gift, kind brother," quoth he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"She may wear an she listeth a brown rosary,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Like a pure-hearted lady."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then swept through the chapel the long bridal train;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though he spake to the bride she replied not again:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On, as one in a dream, pale and stately she went<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the altar-lights burn o'er the great sacrament,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Faint with daylight, but steady.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But her brother had passed in between them and her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And calmly knelt down on the high-altar stair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of an infantine aspect so stern to the view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the priest could not smile on the child's eyes of blue<br /></span> +<span class="i8">As he would for another.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He knelt like a child marble-sculptured and white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seems kneeling to pray on the tomb of a knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a look taken up to each iris of stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the greatness and death where he kneeleth, but none<br /></span> +<span class="i8">From the face of a mother.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In your chapel, O priest, ye have wedded and shriven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair wives for the hearth, and fair sinners for heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But this fairest my sister, ye think now to wed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bid her kneel where she standeth, and shrive her instead:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">O shrive her and wed not!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In tears, the bride's mother,—"Sir priest, unto thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would he lie, as he lied to this fair company."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wrath, the bride's lover,—"The lie shall be clear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak it out, boy! the saints in their niches shall hear:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Be the charge proved or said not!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then serene in his childhood he lifted his face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his voice sounded holy and fit for the place,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Look down from your niches, ye still saints, and see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How she wears on her bosom a <span class="small">BROWN ROSARY</span>!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Is it used for the praying?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The youths looked aside—to laugh there were a sin—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the maidens' lips trembled from smiles shut within.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quoth the priest, "Thou art wild, pretty boy! Blessed she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who prefers at her bridal a brown rosary<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To a worldly arraying."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bridegroom spake low and led onward the bride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And before the high altar they stood side by side:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rite-book is opened, the rite is begun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have knelt down together to rise up as one.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Who laughed by the altar?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The maidens looked forward, the youths looked around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bridegroom's eye flashed from his prayer at the sound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each saw the bride, as if no bride she were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gazing cold at the priest without gesture of prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">As he read from the psalter.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The priest never knew that she did so, but still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He felt a power on him too strong for his will:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whenever the Great Name was there to be read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His voice sank to silence—<span class="small">THAT</span> could not be said,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Or the air could not hold it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I have sinnèd," quoth he, "I have sinnèd, I wot"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tears ran adown his old cheeks at the thought:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They dropped fast on the book, but he read on the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aye was the silence where should be the <span class="smcap">Name</span>,—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">As the choristers told it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rite-book is closed, and the rite being done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They, who knelt down together, arise up as one:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair riseth the bride—Oh, a fair bride is she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, for all (think the maidens) that brown rosary,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">No saint at her praying!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What aileth the bridegroom? He glares blank and wide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then suddenly turning he kisseth the bride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His lips stung her with cold; she glanced upwardly mute:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Mine own wife," he said, and fell stark at her foot<br /></span> +<span class="i8">In the word he was saying.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They have lifted him up, but his head sinks away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his face showeth bleak in the sunshine and grey.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave him now where he lieth—for oh, never more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will he kneel at an altar or stand on a floor!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Let his bride gaze upon him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long and still was her gaze while they chafèd him there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And breathed in the mouth whose last life had kissed her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when they stood up—only <i>they</i>! with a start<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shriek from her soul struck her pale lips apart:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">She has lived, and forgone him!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And low on his body she droppeth adown—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Didst call me thine own wife, belovèd—thine own?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then take thine own with thee! thy coldness is warm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the world's cold without thee! Come, keep me from harm<br /></span> +<span class="i8">In a calm of thy teaching!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She looked in his face earnest-long, as in sooth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There were hope of an answer, and then kissed his mouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with head on his bosom, wept, wept bitterly,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Now, O God, take pity—take pity on me!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">God, hear my beseeching!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She was 'ware of a shadow that crossed where she lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was 'ware of a presence that withered the day:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild she sprang to her feet,—"I surrender to <i>thee</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The broken vow's pledge, the accursed rosary,—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">I am ready for dying!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She dashed it in scorn to the marble-paved ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where it fell mute as snow, and a weird music-sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crept up, like a chill, up the aisles long and dim,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the fiends tried to mock at the choristers' hymn<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And moaned in the trying.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3 class="gap2"><a name="THE_LAY_OF_THE_BROWN_ROSARY4" id="THE_LAY_OF_THE_BROWN_ROSARY4"></a>FOURTH PART.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Onora looketh listlessly adown the garden walk:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I am weary, O my mother, of thy tender talk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am weary of the trees a-waving to and fro,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the steadfast skies above, the running brooks below.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All things are the same, but I,—only I am dreary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, mother, of my dreariness behold me very weary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Mother, brother, pull the flowers I planted in the spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smiled to think I should smile more upon their gathering:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bees will find out other flowers—oh, pull them, dearest mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And carry them and carry me before Saint Agnes' shrine."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Whereat they pulled the summer flowers she planted in the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her and them all mournfully to Agnes' shrine did bring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She looked up to the pictured saint and gently shook her head—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The picture is too calm for <i>me</i>—too calm for <i>me</i>," she said:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The little flowers we brought with us, before it we may lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For those are used to look at heaven,—but <i>I</i> must turn away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because no sinner under sun can dare or bear to gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On God's or angel's holiness, except in Jesu's face."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She spoke with passion after pause—"And were it wisely done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If we who cannot gaze above, should walk the earth alone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If we whose virtue is so weak should have a will so strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stand blind on the rocks to choose the right path from the wrong?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To choose perhaps a love-lit hearth, instead of love and heaven,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A single rose, for a rose-tree which beareth seven times seven?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rose that droppeth from the hand, that fadeth in the breast,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until, in grieving for the worst, we learn what is the best!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then breaking into tears,—"Dear God," she cried, "and must we see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All blissful things depart from us or ere we go to <span class="smcap">Thee</span>?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We cannot guess Thee in the wood or hear Thee in the wind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our cedars must fall round us ere we see the light behind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay sooth, we feel too strong, in weal, to need thee on that road,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But woe being come, the soul is dumb that crieth not on 'God.'"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her mother could not speak for tears; she ever musèd thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"<i>The bees will find out other flowers</i>,—but what is left for <i>us</i>?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But her young brother stayed his sobs and knelt beside her knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—"Thou sweetest sister in the world, hast never a word for me?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She passed her hand across his face, she pressed it on his cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So tenderly, so tenderly—she needed not to speak.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wreath which lay on shrine that day, at vespers bloomed no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The woman fair who placed it there had died an hour before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both perished mute for lack of root, earth's nourishment to reach.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O reader, breathe (the ballad saith) some sweetness out of each!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="A_ROMANCE_OF_THE_GANGES" id="A_ROMANCE_OF_THE_GANGES"></a><i>A ROMANCE OF THE GANGES.</i></h2> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seven maidens 'neath the midnight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stand near the river-sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose water sweepeth white around<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shadow of the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon and earth are face to face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And earth is slumbering deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wave-voice seems the voice of dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wander through her sleep:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What bring they 'neath the midnight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beside the river-sea?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They bring the human heart wherein<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No nightly calm can be,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That droppeth never with the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor drieth with the dew:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, calm in God! thy calm is broad<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To cover spirits too.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The maidens lean them over<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The waters, side by side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shun each other's deepening eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gaze adown the tide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For each within a little boat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A little lamp hath put,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heaped for freight some lily's weight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or scarlet rose half shut.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of shell of cocoa carven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each little boat is made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each carries a lamp, and carries a flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And carries a hope unsaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the boat hath carried the lamp<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unquenched till out of sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The maiden is sure that love will endure;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But love will fail with light.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why, all the stars are ready<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To symbolize the soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars untroubled by the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unwearied as they roll;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet the soul by instinct sad<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reverts to symbols low—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that small flame, whose very name<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breathed o'er it, shakes it so!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Six boats are on the river,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seven maidens on the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While still above them steadfastly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stars shine evermore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go, little boats, go soft and safe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And guard the symbol spark!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boats aright go safe and bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across the waters dark.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The maiden Luti watcheth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where onwardly they float:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That look in her dilating eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might seem to drive her boat:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyes still mark the constant fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And kindling unawares<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hopeful while, she lets a smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Creep silent through her prayers.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The smile—where hath it wandered?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She riseth from her knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She holds her dark, wet locks away—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is no light to see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She cries a quick and bitter cry—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Nuleeni, launch me thine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must have light abroad to-night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For all the wreck of mine."<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I do remember watching<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beside this river-bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on my childish knee was leaned<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My dying father's head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turned mine own to keep the tears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From falling on his face:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What doth it prove when Death and Love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Choose out the self-same place?"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"They say the dead are joyful<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The death-change here receiving:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who say—ah me! who dare to say<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where joy comes to the living?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy boat, Nuleeni! look not sad—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Light up the waters rather!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I weep no faithless lover where<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I wept a loving father."<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My heart foretold his falsehood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere my little boat grew dim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though I closed mine eyes to dream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That one last dream of <i>him</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They shall not now be wet to see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shining vision go:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From earth's cold love I look above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the holy house of snow."<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come thou—thou never knewest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A grief, that thou shouldst fear one!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wearest still the happy look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That shines beneath a dear one:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy humming-bird is in the sun,<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy cuckoo in the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the three broad worlds, for thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are full of wandering love."<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Why, maiden, dost thou loiter?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What secret wouldst thou cover?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That peepul cannot hide thy boat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I can guess thy lover;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard thee sob his name in sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was a name I knew:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, little maid, be not afraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But let us prove him true!"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The little maiden cometh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She cometh shy and slow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ween she seeth through her lids<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They drop adown so low:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her tresses meet her small bare feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She stands and speaketh nought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet blusheth red as if she said<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The name she only thought.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She knelt beside the water,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She lighted up the flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er her youthful forehead's calm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fitful radiance came:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Go, little boat, go soft and safe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And guard the symbol spark!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft, safe doth float the little boat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across the waters dark.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Glad tears her eyes have blinded,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The light they cannot reach;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She turneth with that sudden smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She learnt before her speech—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I do not hear his voice, the tears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have dimmed my light away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the symbol light will last to-night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The love will last for aye!"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then Luti spake behind her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Outspake she bitterly—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"By the symbol light that lasts to-night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wilt vow a vow to me?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nuleeni gazeth up her face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soft answer maketh she—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"By loves that last when lights are past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I vow that vow to thee!"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An earthly look had Luti<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though her voice was deep as prayer—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The rice is gathered from the plains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To cast upon thine hair:<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when <i>he</i> comes his marriage-band<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around thy neck to throw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy bride-smile raise to meet his gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whisper,—<i>There is one betrays,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>While Luti suffers woe.</i>"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And when in seasons after,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy little bright-faced son<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall lean against thy knee and ask<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What deeds his sire hath done,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Press deeper down thy mother-smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His glossy curls among,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">View deep his pretty childish eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whisper,—<i>There is none denies,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>While Luti speaks of wrong.</i>"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nuleeni looked in wonder,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet softly answered she—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"By loves that last when lights are past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I vowed that vow to thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But why glads it thee that a bride-day be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By a word of <i>woe</i> defiled?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That a word of <i>wrong</i> take the cradle-song<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the ear of a sinless child?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Why?" Luti said, and her laugh was dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And her eyes dilated wild—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"That the fair new love may her bridegroom prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the father shame the child!"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thou flowest still, O river,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou flowest 'neath the moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy lily hath not changed a leaf,<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy charmèd lute a tune:<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>He</i> mixed his voice with thine and <i>his</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was all I heard around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, beside his chosen bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I hear the river's sound."<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I gaze upon her beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the tresses that enwreathe it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light above thy wave, is hers—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My rest, alone beneath it:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, give me back the dying look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My father gave thy water!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give back—and let a little love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'erwatch his weary daughter!"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Give back!" she hath departed—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The word is wandering with her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stricken maidens hear afar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The step and cry together.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frail symbols? None are frail enow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For mortal joys to borrow!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While bright doth float Nuleeni's boat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She weepeth dark with sorrow.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The river floweth on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The Hindoo heaven is localized on the summit of Mount Meru—one of +the mountains of Himalaya or Himmaleh, which signifies, I believe, in +Sanscrit, the abode of snow, winter, or coldness.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Himadeva, the Indian god of love, is imagined to wander through +the three worlds, accompanied by the humming-bird, cuckoo, and gentle +breezes.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The casting of rice upon the head, and the fixing of the band or +tali about the neck, are parts of the Hindoo marriage ceremonial.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> The Ganges is represented as a white woman, with a water-lily in +her right hand, and in her left a lute.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="RHYME_OF_THE_DUCHESS_MAY" id="RHYME_OF_THE_DUCHESS_MAY"></a><i>RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY.</i></h2> + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">To the belfry, one by one, went the ringers from the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the oldest ringer said, "Ours is music for the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i6">When the rebecks are all done."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Six abeles i' the churchyard grow on the north side in a row,<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the shadows of their tops rock across the little slopes<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of the grassy graves below.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">On the south side and the west a small river runs in haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, between the river flowing and the fair green trees a-growing,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Do the dead lie at their rest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">On the east I sate that day, up against a willow grey:<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the rain of willow-branches I could see the low hill-ranges<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And the river on its way.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">There I sate beneath the tree, and the bell tolled solemnly,<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the trees' and river's voices flowed between the solemn noises,—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Yet death seemed more loud to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">There I read this ancient rhyme while the bell did all the time<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the solemn knell fell in with the tale of life and sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Like a rhythmic fate sublime.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3 class="gap2"><a name="THE_RHYME" id="THE_RHYME"></a>THE RHYME.</h3> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Broad the forests stood (I read) on the hills of Linteged,<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And three hundred years had stood mute adown each hoary wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Like a full heart having prayed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And but little thought was theirs of the silent antique years,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In the building of their nest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Down the sun dropt large and red on the towers of Linteged,—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lance and spear upon the height, bristling strange in fiery light,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">While the castle stood in shade.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">There the castle stood up black with the red sun at its back—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a sullen smouldering pyre with a top that flickers fire<br /></span> +<span class="i6">When the wind is on its track.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And five hundred archers tall did besiege the castle wall—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the castle, seethed in blood, fourteen days and nights had stood<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And to-night was near its fall.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Yet thereunto, blind to doom, three months since, a bride did come—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">One who proudly trod the floors and softly whispered in the doors,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">"May good angels bless our home."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Oh, a bride of queenly eyes, with a front of constancies:<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, a bride of cordial mouth where the untired smile of youth<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Did light outward its own sighs!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">'T was a Duke's fair orphan-girl, and her uncle's ward—the Earl—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who betrothed her twelve years old, for the sake of dowry gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To his son Lord Leigh the churl.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">But what time she had made good all her years of womanhood—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto both these lords of Leigh spake she out right sovranly,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">"My will runneth as my blood.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"And while this same blood makes red this same right hand's veins," she said—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"'T is my will, as lady free, not to wed a lord of Leigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">But Sir Guy of Linteged."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">The old Earl he smilèd smooth, then he sighed for wilful youth—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Good my niece, that hand withal looketh somewhat soft and small<br /></span> +<span class="i8">For so large a will, in sooth."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">She too smiled by that same sign, but her smile was cold and fine—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Little hand clasps muckle gold, or it were not worth the hold<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of thy son, good uncle mine!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Then the young lord jerked his breath, and sware thickly in his teeth—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"He would wed his own betrothed, an she loved him an she loathed,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Let the life come or the death."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Up she rose with scornful eyes, as her father's child might rise—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thy hound's blood, my lord of Leigh, stains thy knightly heel," quoth she,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">"And he moans not where he lies:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"But a woman's will dies hard, in the hall or on the sward"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"By that grave, my lords, which made me orphaned girl and dowered lady,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">I deny you wife and ward!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Unto each she bowed her head and swept past with lofty tread.<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere the midnight-bell had ceased, in the chapel had the priest<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Blessed her, bride of Linteged.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Fast and fain the bridal train along the night-storm rode amain—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hard the steeds of lord and serf struck their hoofs out on the turf,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">In the pauses of the rain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Fast and fain the kinsmen's train along the storm pursued amain—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steed on steed-track, dashing off,—thickening, doubling, hoof on hoof,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">In the pauses of the rain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And the bridegroom led the flight on his red-roan steed of might—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bride lay on his arm, still, as if she feared no harm,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Smiling out into the night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Dost thou fear?" he said at last. "Nay," she answered him in haste,—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Not such death as we could find—only life with one behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Ride on fast as fear, ride fast!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Up the mountain wheeled the steed—girth to ground, and fetlocks spread—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Headlong bounds, and rocking flanks,—down he staggered, down the banks,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To the towers of Linteged.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">High and low the serfs looked out, red the flambeaus tossed about—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the courtyard rose the cry, "Live the Duchess and Sir Guy!"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">But she never heard them shout.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">On the steed she dropped her cheek, kissed his mane and kissed his neck—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I had happier died by thee than lived on, a Lady Leigh,"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Were the first words she did speak.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">But a three months' joyaunce lay 'twixt that moment and to-day—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">When five hundred archers tall stand beside the castle wall<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To recapture Duchess May.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And the castle standeth black with the red sun at its back—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a fortnight's siege is done, and, except the duchess, none<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Can misdoubt the coming wrack.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Then the captain, young Lord Leigh, with his eyes so grey of blee—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thin lips that scarcely sheath the cold white gnashing of his teeth,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Gnashed in smiling, absently,—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Cried aloud, "So goes the day, bridegroom fair of Duchess May!"<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Look thy last upon that sun! if thou seest to-morrow's one<br /></span> +<span class="i8">'T will be through a foot of clay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Ha, fair bride! dost hear no sound save that moaning of the hound?"<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thou and I have parted troth, yet I keep my vengeance-oath,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And the other may come round.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Ha! thy will is brave to dare, and thy new love past compare"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Yet thine old love's falchion brave is as strong a thing to have,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">As the will of lady fair.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Peck on blindly, netted dove! If a wife's name thee behove"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thou shalt wear the same to-morrow, ere the grave has hid the sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of thy last ill-mated love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"O'er his fixed and silent mouth, thou and I will call back troth":<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"He shall altar be and priest,—and he will not cry at least<br /></span> +<span class="i8">'I forbid you, I am loth!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"I will wring thy fingers pale in the gauntlet of my mail":<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"'Little hand and muckle gold' close shall lie within my hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">As the sword did, to prevail."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, and laughed the Duchess May, and her soul did put away<br /></span> +<span class="i8">All his boasting, for a jest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">In her chamber did she sit, laughing low to think of it,—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Tower is strong and will is free: thou canst boast, my lord of Leigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">But thou boastest little wit."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">In her tire-glass gazèd she, and she blushed right womanly—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">She blushed half from her disdain, half her beauty was so plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">—"Oath for oath, my lord of Leigh!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Straight she called her maidens in—"Since ye gave me blame herein"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"That a bridal such as mine should lack gauds to make it fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Come and shrive me from that sin.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"It is three months gone to-day since I gave mine hand away":<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Bring the gold and bring the gem, we will keep bride-state in them,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">While we keep the foe at bay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"On your arms I loose mine hair; comb it smooth and crown it fair":<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I would look in purple pall from this lattice down the wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And throw scorn to one that's there!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the tower the castle's lord leant in silence on his sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">With an anguish in his breast.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XL.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">With a spirit-laden weight did he lean down passionate:<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have almost sapped the wall,—they will enter therewithal<br /></span> +<span class="i8">With no knocking at the gate.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Then the sword he leant upon, shivered, snapped upon the stone—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sword," he thought, with inward laugh, "ill thou servest for a staff<br /></span> +<span class="i8">When thy nobler use is done!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Sword, thy nobler use is done! tower is lost, and shame begun!"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"If we met them in the breach, hilt to hilt or speech to speech,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">We should die there, each for one.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"If we met them at the wall, we should singly, vainly fall"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"But if <i>I</i> die here alone,—then I die who am but one,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And die nobly for them all.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Five true friends lie for my sake in the moat and in the brake"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thirteen warriors lie at rest with a black wound in the breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And not one of these will wake.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"So, no more of this shall be! heart-blood weighs too heavily"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And I could not sleep in grave, with the faithful and the brave<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Heaped around and over me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Since young Clare a mother hath, and young Ralph a plighted faith"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Since my pale young sister's cheeks blush like rose when Ronald speaks,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Albeit never a word she saith—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"These shall never die for me: life-blood falls too heavily":<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And if <i>I</i> die here apart, o'er my dead and silent heart<br /></span> +<span class="i8">They shall pass out safe and free.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"When the foe hath heard it said—'Death holds Guy of Linteged'"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"That new corse new peace shall bring, and a blessèd, blessèd thing<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Shall the stone be at its head.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Then my friends shall pass out free, and shall bear my memory"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Then my foes shall sleek their pride, soothing fair my widowed bride<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Whose sole sin was love of me:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">L.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"With their words all smooth and sweet, they will front her and entreat"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And their purple pall will spread underneath her fainting head<br /></span> +<span class="i8">While her tears drop over it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"She will weep her woman's tears, she will pray her woman's prayers"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"But her heart is young in pain, and her hopes will spring again<br /></span> +<span class="i8">By the suntime of her years.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Ah, sweet May! ah, sweetest grief!—once I vowed thee my belief"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"That thy name expressed thy sweetness,—May of poets, in completeness!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Now my May-day seemeth brief."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">All these silent thoughts did swim o'er his eyes grown strange and dim—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till his true men, in the place, wished they stood there face to face<br /></span> +<span class="i8">With the foe instead of him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"One last oath, my friends that wear faithful hearts to do and dare!"<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Tower must fall and bride be lost—swear me service worth the cost!"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Bold they stood around to swear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Each man clasp my hand and swear by the deed we failed in there"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Not for vengeance, not for right, will ye strike one blow to-night!"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Pale they stood around to swear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"One last boon, young Ralph and Clare! faithful hearts to do and dare!"<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Bring that steed up from his stall, which she kissed before you all.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Guide him up the turret-stair.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Ye shall harness him aright, and lead upward to this height:"<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Once in love and twice in war hath he borne me strong and far:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">He shall bear me far to-night."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Then his men looked to and fro, when they heard him speaking so—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"'Las! the noble heart," they thought, "he in sooth is grief-distraught:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Would we stood here with the foe!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">But a fire flashed from his eye, 'twixt their thought and their reply—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Have ye so much time to waste? We who ride here, must ride fast<br /></span> +<span class="i8">As we wish our foes to fly."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">They have fetched the steed with care, in the harness he did wear—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past the court and through the doors, across the rushes of the floors,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">But they goad him up the stair.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Then from out her bower chambère did the Duchess May repair:<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Tell me now what is your need," said the lady, "of this steed,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">That ye goad him up the stair?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Calm she stood; unbodkined through, fell her dark hair to her shoe:<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the smile upon her face, ere she left the tiring-glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Had not time enough to go.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Get thee back, sweet Duchess May! hope is gone like yesterday":<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">One half-hour completes the breach; and thy lord grows wild of speech—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Get thee in, sweet lady, and pray!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"In the east tower, high'st of all, loud he cries for steed from stall":<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"'He would ride as far,' quoth he, 'as for love and victory,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Though he rides the castle-wall.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"And we fetch the steed from stall, up where never a hoof did fall"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Wifely prayer meets deathly need: may the sweet Heavens hear thee plead<br /></span> +<span class="i8">If he rides the castle-wall!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Low she dropt her head, and lower, till her hair coiled on the floor—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tear after tear you heard fall distinct as any word<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Which you might be listening for.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Get thee in, thou soft ladye! here is never a place for thee!"<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Braid thine hair and clasp thy gown, that thy beauty in its moan<br /></span> +<span class="i8">May find grace with Leigh of Leigh."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">She stood up in bitter case, with a pale yet steady face:<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a statue thunderstruck, which, though quivering, seems to look<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Right against the thunder-place.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And her foot trod in, with pride, her own tears i' the stone beside—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Go to, faithful friends, go to! judge no more what ladies do,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">No, nor how their lords may ride!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Then the good steed's rein she took, and his neck did kiss and stroke:<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft he neighed to answer her, and then followed up the stair<br /></span> +<span class="i8">For the love of her sweet look:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Oh, and steeply, steeply wound up the narrow stair around—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, and closely, closely speeding, step by step beside her treading<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Did he follow, meek as hound.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">On the east tower, high'st of all,—there, where never a hoof did fall—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out they swept, a vision steady, noble steed and lovely lady,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Calm as if in bower or stall.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Down she knelt at her lord's knee, and she looked up silently—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he kissed her twice and thrice, for that look within her eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Which he could not bear to see.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Quoth he, "Get thee from this strife, and the sweet saints bless thy life!"<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"In this hour I stand in need of my noble red-roan steed,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">But no more of my noble wife."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Quoth she, "Meekly have I done all thy biddings under sun":<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"But by all my womanhood, which is proved so, true and good,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">I will never do this one.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Now by womanhood's degree and by wifehood's verity"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"In this hour if thou hast need of thy noble red-roan steed,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Thou hast also need of <i>me</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"By this golden ring ye see on this lifted hand pardiè"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"If, this hour, on castle-wall can be room for steed from stall,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Shall be also room for <i>me</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"So the sweet saints with me be," (did she utter solemnly)—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"If a man, this eventide, on this castle wall will ride,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">He shall ride the same with <i>me</i>."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Oh, he sprang up in the selle and he laughed out bitter-well—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Wouldst thou ride among the leaves, as we used on other eves,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To hear chime a vesper-bell?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">She clung closer to his knee—"Ay, beneath the cypress-tree!"<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Mock me not, for otherwhere than along the greenwood fair<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Have I ridden fast with thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Fast I rode with new-made vows from my angry kinsman's house":<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What, and would you men should reck that I dared more for love's sake<br /></span> +<span class="i8">As a bride than as a spouse?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"What, and would you it should fall, as a proverb, before all"—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"That a bride may keep your side while through castle-gate you ride,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Yet eschew the castle-wall?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Ho! the breach yawns into ruin and roars up against her suing—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the inarticulate din and the dreadful falling in—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Shrieks of doing and undoing!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Twice he wrung her hands in twain, but the small hands closed again.<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back he reined the steed—back, back! but she trailed along his track<br /></span> +<span class="i8">With a frantic clasp and strain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Evermore the foemen pour through the crash of window and door—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the shouts of Leigh and Leigh, and the shrieks of "kill!" and "flee!"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Strike up clear amid the roar.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Thrice he wrung her hands in twain, but they closed and clung again—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">While she clung, as one, withstood, clasps a Christ upon the rood,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">In a spasm of deathly pain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">She clung wild and she clung mute with her shuddering lips half-shut.<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her head fallen as half in swound, hair and knee swept on the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">She clung wild to stirrup and foot.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Back he reined his steed back-thrown on the slippery coping-stone:<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back the iron hoofs did grind on the battlement behind<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Whence a hundred feet went down:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And his heel did press and goad on the quivering flank bestrode—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Friends and brothers, save my wife! Pardon, sweet, in change for life,—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">But I ride alone to God."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XC.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Straight as if the Holy name had upbreathed her like a flame—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">She upsprang, she rose upright, in his selle she sate in sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">By her love she overcame.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XCI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And her head was on his breast where she smiled as one at rest—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ring," she cried, "O vesper-bell in the beechwood's old chapelle—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">But the passing-bell rings best!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XCII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">They have caught out at the rein which Sir Guy threw loose—in vain—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the horse in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">On the last verge rears amain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XCIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Now he hangs, he rocks between, and his nostrils curdle in—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now he shivers head and hoof and the flakes of foam fall off,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And his face grows fierce and thin:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XCIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And a look of human woe from his staring eyes did go:<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a sharp cry uttered he, in a foretold agony<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of the headlong death below,—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XCV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And, "Ring, ring, thou passing-bell," still she cried, "i' the old chapelle!"<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, back-toppling, crashing back—a dead weight flung out to wrack,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Horse and riders overfell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I read this ancient Rhyme, in the churchyard, while the chime<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Slowly tolled for one at rest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">The abeles moved in the sun, and the river smooth did run—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the ancient Rhyme rang strange, with its passion and its change,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Here, where all done lay undone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And beneath a willow tree I a little grave did see—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where was graved—<span class="smcap">Here, undefiled, lieth Maud, a three-year child,</span><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Eighteen hundred forty-three</span>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Then O spirits, did I say, ye who rode so fast that day—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did star-wheels and angel wings with their holy winnowings<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Keep beside you all the way?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Though in passion ye would dash, with a blind and heavy crash—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up against the thick-bossed shield of God's judgment in the field,—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Though your heart and brain were rash,—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Now, your will is all unwilled; now, your pulses are all stilled:<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, ye lie as meek and mild (whereso laid) as Maud the child<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Whose small grave was lately filled.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Beating heart and burning brow, ye are very patient now—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the children might be bold to pluck the kingcups from your mould<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Ere a month had let them grow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And you let the goldfinch sing in the alder near in spring—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let her build her nest and sit all the three weeks out on it,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Murmuring not at anything.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">In your patience ye are strong, cold and heat ye take not wrong—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the trumpet of the angel blows eternity's evangel,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Time will seem to you not long.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I said in underbreath,—All our life is mixed with death,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And who knoweth which is best?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west—<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Toll slowly.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness,—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Round our restlessness, His rest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="THE_ROMANCE_OF_THE_SWANS_NEST" id="THE_ROMANCE_OF_THE_SWANS_NEST"></a><i>THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST.</i></h2> + +<div class="poem small"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">So the dreams depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So the fading phantoms flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sharp reality<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now must act its part.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style="margin-left:50%"><span class="smcap">Westwood's</span> <i>Beads from a Rosary</i></p> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Little Ellie sits alone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mid the beeches of a meadow,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By a stream-side on the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the trees are showering down<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doubles of their leaves in shadow<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On her shining hair and face.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She has thrown her bonnet by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And her feet she has been dipping<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the shallow water's flow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now she holds them nakedly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In her hands, all sleek and dripping,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While she rocketh to and fro.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Little Ellie sits alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the smile she softly uses<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fills the silence like a speech<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While she thinks what shall be done,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the sweetest pleasure chooses<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For her future within reach.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Little Ellie in her smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Chooses—"I will have a lover<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Riding on a steed of steeds:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shall love me without guile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to <i>him</i> I will discover<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The swan's nest among the reeds.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And the steed shall be red-roan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the lover shall be noble,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With an eye that takes the breath:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lute he plays upon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall strike ladies into trouble,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As his sword strikes men to death.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And the steed it shall be shod<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All in silver, housed in azure,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the mane shall swim the wind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hoofs along the sod<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall flash onward and keep measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Till the shepherds look behind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But my lover will not prize<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All the glory that he rides in,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When he gazes in my face:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He will say, 'O Love, thine eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Build the shrine my soul abides in,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And I kneel here for thy grace!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then, ay, then he shall kneel low,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the red-roan steed anear him<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which shall seem to understand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till I answer, 'Rise and go!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the world must love and fear him<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whom I gift with heart and hand.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then he will arise so pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I shall feel my own lips tremble<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a <i>yes</i> I must not say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nathless maiden-brave, 'Farewell,'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I will utter, and dissemble—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Light to-morrow with to-day!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then he'll ride among the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the wide world past the river,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There to put away all wrong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make straight distorted wills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to empty the broad quiver<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which the wicked bear along.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Three times shall a young foot-page<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Swim the stream and climb the mountain<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And kneel down beside my feet—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Lo, my master sends this gage,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lady, for thy pity's counting!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">What wilt thou exchange for it?'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And the first time I will send<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A white rosebud for a guerdon,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the second time, a glove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the third time—I may bend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From my pride, and answer—'Pardon<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If he comes to take my love.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then the young foot-page will run,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then my lover will ride faster,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Till he kneeleth at my knee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'I am a duke's eldest son,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thousand serfs do call me master,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But, O Love, I love but <i>thee</i>!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He will kiss me on the mouth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, and lead me as a lover<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through the crowds that praise his deeds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, when soul-tied by one troth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto <i>him</i> I will discover<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That swan's nest among the reeds."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Little Ellie, with her smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not yet ended, rose up gaily,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Tied the bonnet, donned the shoe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And went homeward, round a mile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just to see, as she did daily,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">What more eggs were with the two.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pushing through the elm-tree copse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Winding up the stream, light-hearted,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where the osier pathway leads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past the boughs she stoops—and stops.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lo, the wild swan had deserted,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And a rat had gnawed the reeds!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ellie went home sad and slow.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If she found the lover ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With his red-roan steed of steeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sooth I know not; but I know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She could never show him—never,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That swan's nest among the reeds!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="BERTHA_IN_THE_LANE" id="BERTHA_IN_THE_LANE"></a><i>BERTHA IN THE LANE.</i></h2> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Put the broidery-frame away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For my sewing is all done:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last thread is used to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I need not join it on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the clock stands at the noon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am weary. I have sewn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet, for thee, a wedding-gown.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Sister, help me to the bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And stand near me, Dearest-sweet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not shrink nor be afraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blushing with a sudden heat!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No one standeth in the street?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By God's love I go to meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love I thee with love complete.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Lean thy face down; drop it in<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These two hands, that I may hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt their palms thy cheek and chin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stroking back the curls of gold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T is a fair, fair face, in sooth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Larger eyes and redder mouth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than mine were in my first youth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Thou art younger by seven years—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah!—so bashful at my gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the lashes, hung with tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grow too heavy to upraise?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would wound thee by no touch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which thy shyness feels as such.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost thou mind me, Dear, so much?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Have I not been nigh a mother<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To thy sweetness—tell me, Dear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have we not loved one another<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tenderly, from year to year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since our dying mother mild<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said with accents undefiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Child, be mother to this child"!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Mother, mother, up in heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stand up on the jasper sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be witness I have given<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All the gifts required of me,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope that blessed me, bliss that crowned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love that left me with a wound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life itself that turneth round!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i2">Thou art standing in the room,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a molten glory shrined<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That rays off into the gloom!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thy smile is bright and bleak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like cold waves—I cannot speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sob in it, and grow weak.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Ghostly mother, keep aloof<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One hour longer from my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I still am thinking of<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Earth's warm-beating joy and dole!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On my finger is a ring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I still see glittering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the night hides everything.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Little sister, thou art pale!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, I have a wandering brain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I lose that fever-bale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And my thoughts grow calm again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lean down closer—closer still!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have words thine ear to fill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And would kiss thee at my will.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Dear, I heard thee in the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thee and Robert—through the trees,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we all went gathering<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Boughs of May-bloom for the bees.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not start so! think instead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How the sunshine overhead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed to trickle through the shade.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">What a day it was, that day!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hills and vales did openly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem to heave and throb away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the sight of the great sky:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the silence, as it stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the glory's golden flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Audibly did bud, and bud.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Through the winding hedgerows green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How we wandered, I and you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the bowery tops shut in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the gates that showed the view!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How we talked there; thrushes soft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sang our praises out, or oft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bleatings took them from the croft:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Till the pleasure grown too strong<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Left me muter evermore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, the winding road being long,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I walked out of sight, before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so, wrapt in musings fond,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Issued (past the wayside pond)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the meadow-lands beyond.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">I sate down beneath the beech<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which leans over to the lane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the far sound of your speech<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did not promise any pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I blessed you full and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a smile stooped tenderly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the May-flowers on my knee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">But the sound grew into word<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the speakers drew more near—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet, forgive me that I heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What you wished me not to hear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not weep so, do not shake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh,—I heard thee, Bertha, make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good true answers for my sake.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Yes, and <span class="small">HE</span> too! let him stand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In thy thoughts, untouched by blame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could he help it, if my hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He had claimed with hasty claim?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That was wrong perhaps—but then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such things be—and will, again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Women cannot judge for men.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Had he seen thee when he swore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He would love but me alone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wast absent, sent before<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To our kin in Sidmouth town.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he saw thee who art best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past compare, and loveliest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He but judged thee as the rest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Could we blame him with grave words,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou and I, Dear, if we might?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy brown eyes have looks like birds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flying straightway to the light:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine are older.—Hush!—look out—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up the street! Is none without?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How the poplar swings about!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">And that hour—beneath the beech,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I listened in a dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he said in his deep speech<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That he owed me all <i>esteem</i>,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each word swam in on my brain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a dim, dilating pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till it burst with that last strain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">I fell flooded with a dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the silence of a swoon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I rose, still cold and stark,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There was night; I saw the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stars, each in its place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the May-blooms on the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed to wonder what I was.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">And I walked as if apart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From myself, when I could stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I pitied my own heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if I held it in my hand—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Somewhat coldly, with a sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fulfilled benevolence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a "Poor thing" negligence.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">And I answered coldly too,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When you met me at the door;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I only <i>heard</i> the dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dripping from me to the floor:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the flowers, I bade you see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were too withered for the bee,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As my life, henceforth, for me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Do not weep so—Dear,—heart-warm!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All was best as it befell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I say he did me harm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I speak wild,—I am not well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All his words were kind and good—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>He esteemed me.</i> Only, blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Runs so faint in womanhood!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Then I always was too grave,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Liked the saddest ballad sung,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that look, besides, we have<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In our faces, who die young.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had died, Dear, all the same;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's long, joyous, jostling game<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is too loud for my meek shame.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">We are so unlike each other,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou and I, that none could guess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We were children of one mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But for mutual tenderness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art rose-lined from the cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And meant verily to hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's pure pleasures manifold.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">I am pale as crocus grows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Close beside a rose-tree's root;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whosoe'er would reach the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Treads the crocus underfoot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I</i>, like May-bloom on thorn-tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, like merry summer-bee,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fit that I be plucked for thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Yet who plucks me?—no one mourns,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have lived my season out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now die of my own thorns<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which I could not live without.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet, be merry! How the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes and goes! If it be night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep the candles in my sight.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Are there footsteps at the door?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look out quickly. Yea, or nay?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some one might be waiting for<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some last word that I might say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay? So best!—so angels would<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand off clear from deathly road,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not to cross the sight of God.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Colder grow my hands and feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I wear the shroud I made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the folds lie straight and neat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the rosemary be spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That if any friend should come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(To see <i>thee</i>, Sweet!) all the room<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May be lifted out of gloom.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">And, dear Bertha, let me keep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On my hand this little ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which at nights, when others sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I can still see glittering!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me wear it out of sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the grave,—where it will light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the dark up, day and night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">On that grave drop not a tear!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Else, though fathom-deep the place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the woollen shroud I wear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I shall feel it on my face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rather smile there, blessèd one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking of me in the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or forget me—smiling on!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Art thou near me? nearer! so—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kiss me close upon the eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the earthly light may go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweetly, as it used to rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I watched the morning-grey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strike, betwixt the hills, the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was sure to come that day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">So,—no more vain words be said!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hosannas nearer roll.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mother, smile now on thy Dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am death-strong in my soul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mystic Dove alit on cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guide the poor bird of the snows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the snow-wind above loss!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Jesus, Victim, comprehending<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love's divine self-abnegation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cleanse my love in its self-spending,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And absorb the poor libation!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wind my thread of life up higher,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up, through angels' hands of fire!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I aspire while I expire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="LADY_GERALDINES_COURTSHIP" id="LADY_GERALDINES_COURTSHIP"></a><i>LADY GERALDINE'S COURTSHIP:</i></h2> + +<h3>A ROMANCE OF THE AGE.</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>A Poet writes to his Friend.</i> <span class="smcap">Place</span>—<i>A Room in Wycombe Hall.</i> +<span class="smcap">Time</span>—<i>Late in the evening.</i></p> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Dear my friend and fellow-student, I would lean my spirit o'er you!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down the purple of this chamber tears should scarcely run at will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am humbled who was humble. Friend, I bow my head before you:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You should lead me to my peasants, but their faces are too still.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">There's a lady, an earl's daughter,—she is proud and she is noble,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she treads the crimson carpet and she breathes the perfumed air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a kingly blood sends glances up, her princely eye to trouble,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the shadow of a monarch's crown is softened in her hair.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">She has halls among the woodlands, she has castles by the breakers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She has farms and she has manors, she can threaten and command:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the palpitating engines snort in steam across her acres,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they mark upon the blasted heaven the measure of the land.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">There are none of England's daughters who can show a prouder presence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon princely suitors' praying she has looked in her disdain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was sprung of English nobles, I was born of English peasants;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What was <i>I</i> that I should love her, save for competence to pain?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">I was only a poor poet, made for singing at her casement,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the finches or the thrushes, while she thought of other things.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, she walked so high above me, she appeared to my abasement,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her lovely silken murmur, like an angel clad in wings!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Many vassals bow before her as her carriage sweeps their doorways;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She has blest their little children, as a priest or queen were she:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far too tender, or too cruel far, her smile upon the poor was,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I thought it was the same smile which she used to smile on <i>me</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">She has voters in the Commons, she has lovers in the palace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, of all the fair court-ladies, few have jewels half as fine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft the Prince has named her beauty 'twixt the red wine and the chalice:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, and what was <i>I</i> to love her? my beloved, my Geraldine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Yet I could not choose but love her: I was born to poet-uses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To love all things set above me, all of good and all of fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nymphs of mountain, not of valley, we are wont to call the Muses;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in nympholeptic climbing, poets pass from mount to star.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And because I was a poet, and because the public praised me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a critical deduction for the modern writer's fault,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could sit at rich men's tables,—though the courtesies that raised me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still suggested clear between us the pale spectrum of the salt.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And they praised me in her presence—"Will your book appear this summer?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then returning to each other—"Yes, our plans are for the moors."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then with whisper dropped behind me—"There he is! the latest comer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, she only likes his verses! what is over, she endures.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Quite low-born, self-educated! somewhat gifted though by nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we make a point of asking him,—of being very kind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You may speak, he does not hear you! and, besides, he writes no satire,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All these serpents kept by charmers leave the natural sting behind."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">I grew scornfuller, grew colder, as I stood up there among them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till as frost intense will burn you, the cold scorning scorched my brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a sudden silver speaking, gravely cadenced, over-rung them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a sudden silken stirring touched my inner nature through.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">I looked upward and beheld her: with a calm and regnant spirit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slowly round she swept her eyelids, and said clear before them all—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Have you such superfluous honour, sir, that able to confer it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You will come down, Mister Bertram, as my guest to Wycombe Hall?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Here she paused; she had been paler at the first word of her speaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, because a silence followed it, blushed somewhat, as for shame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, as scorning her own feeling, resumed calmly—"I am seeking<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More distinction than these gentlemen think worthy of my claim.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Ne'ertheless, you see, I seek it—not because I am a woman,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Here her smile sprang like a fountain and, so, overflowed her mouth)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"But because my woods in Sussex have some purple shades at gloaming<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which are worthy of a king in state, or poet in his youth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"I invite you, Mister Bertram, to no scene for worldly speeches—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sir, I scarce should dare—but only where God asked the thrushes first:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if <i>you</i> will sing beside them, in the covert of my beeches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will thank you for the woodlands,—for the human world, at worst."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Then she smiled around right childly, then she gazed around right queenly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I bowed—I could not answer; alternated light and gloom—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While as one who quells the lions, with a steady eye serenely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, with level fronting eyelids, passed out stately from the room.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the blessèd woods of Sussex, I can hear them still around me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With their leafy tide of greenery still rippling up the wind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the cursèd woods of Sussex! where the hunter's arrow found me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a fair face and a tender voice had made me mad and blind!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">In that ancient hall of Wycombe thronged the numerous guests invited,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lovely London ladies trod the floors with gliding feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their voices low with fashion, not with feeling, softly freighted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the air about the windows with elastic laughters sweet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">For at eve the open windows flung their light out on the terrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which the floating orbs of curtains did with gradual shadow sweep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the swans upon the river, fed at morning by the heiress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trembled downward through their snowy wings at music in their sleep.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And there evermore was music, both of instrument and singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the finches of the shrubberies grew restless in the dark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the cedars stood up motionless, each in a moonlight's ringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the deer, half in the glimmer, strewed the hollows of the park.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And though sometimes she would bind me with her silver-corded speeches<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To commix my words and laughter with the converse and the jest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft I sat apart and, gazing on the river through the beeches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard, as pure the swans swam down it, her pure voice o'erfloat the rest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">In the morning, horn of huntsman, hoof of steed and laugh of rider,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spread out cheery from the courtyard till we lost them in the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While herself and other ladies, and her suitors left beside her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Went a-wandering up the gardens through the laurels and abeles.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Thus, her foot upon the new-mown grass, bareheaded, with the flowing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the virginal white vesture gathered closely to her throat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the golden ringlets in her neck just quickened by her going,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And appearing to breathe sun for air, and doubting if to float,—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">With a bunch of dewy maple, which her right hand held above her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And which trembled a green shadow in betwixt her and the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As she turned her face in going, thus, she drew me on to love her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to worship the divineness of the smile hid in her eyes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">For her eyes alone smile constantly; her lips have serious sweetness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her front is calm, the dimple rarely ripples on the cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But her deep blue eyes smile constantly, as if they in discreetness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kept the secret of a happy dream she did not care to speak.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Thus she drew me the first morning, out across into the garden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I walked among her noble friends and could not keep behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spake she unto all and unto me—"Behold, I am the warden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the song-birds in these lindens, which are cages to their mind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"But within this swarded circle into which the lime-walk brings us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence the beeches, rounded greenly, stand away in reverent fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will let no music enter, saving what the fountain sings us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which the lilies round the basin may seem pure enough to hear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"The live air that waves the lilies waves the slender jet of water<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a holy thought sent feebly up from soul of fasting saint:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereby lies a marble Silence, sleeping (Lough the sculptor wrought her),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So asleep she is forgetting to say Hush!—a fancy quaint.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Mark how heavy white her eyelids! not a dream between them lingers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the left hand's index droppeth from the lips upon the cheek:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the right hand,—with the symbol-rose held slack within the fingers,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has fallen backward in the basin—yet this Silence will not speak!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"That the essential meaning growing may exceed the special symbol,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the thought as I conceive it: it applies more high and low.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our true noblemen will often through right nobleness grow humble,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And assert an inward honour by denying outward show."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Nay, your Silence," said I, "truly, holds her symbol-rose but slackly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet <i>she holds it</i>, or would scarcely be a Silence to our ken:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And your nobles wear their ermine on the outside, or walk blackly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the presence of the social law as mere ignoble men.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Let the poets dream such dreaming! madam, in these British islands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T is the substance that wanes ever, 't is the symbol that exceeds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon we shall have nought but symbol: and, for statues like this Silence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall accept the rose's image—in another case, the weed's."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Not so quickly," she retorted,—"I confess, where'er you go, you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find for things, names—shows for actions, and pure gold for honour clear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when all is run to symbol in the Social, I will throw you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world's book which now reads dryly, and sit down with Silence here."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Half in playfulness she spoke, I thought, and half in indignation;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Friends, who listened, laughed her words off, while her lovers deemed her fair:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fair woman, flushed with feeling, in her noble-lighted station<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near the statue's white reposing—and both bathed in sunny air!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">With the trees round, not so distant but you heard their vernal murmur,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beheld in light and shadow the leaves in and outward move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the little fountain leaping toward the sun-heart to be warmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then recoiling in a tremble from the too much light above.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">'T is a picture for remembrance. And thus, morning after morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did I follow as she drew me by the spirit to her feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, her greyhound followed also! dogs—we both were dogs for scorning—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be sent back when she pleased it and her path lay through the wheat.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And thus, morning after morning, spite of vows and spite of sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did I follow at her drawing, while the week-days passed along,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just to feed the swans this noontide, or to see the fawns to-morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or to teach the hill-side echo some sweet Tuscan in a song.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Ay, for sometimes on the hill-side, while we sate down in the gowans,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the forest green behind us and its shadow cast before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the river running under, and across it from the rowans<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A brown partridge whirring near us till we felt the air it bore,—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XL.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">There, obedient to her praying, did I read aloud the poems<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made to Tuscan flutes, or instruments more various of our own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Read the pastoral parts of Spenser, or the subtle interflowings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found in Petrarch's sonnets—here's the book, the leaf is folded down!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Or at times a modern volume, Wordsworth's solemn-thoughted idyl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Howitt's ballad-verse, or Tennyson's enchanted reverie,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or from Browning some "Pomegranate," which, if cut deep down the middle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Or at times I read there, hoarsely, some new poem of my making:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poets ever fail in reading their own verses to their worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the echo in you breaks upon the words which you are speaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the chariot wheels jar in the gate through which you drive them forth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">After, when we were grown tired of books, the silence round us flinging<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A slow arm of sweet compression, felt with beatings at the breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She would break out on a sudden in a gush of woodland singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a child's emotion in a god—a naiad tired of rest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Oh, to see or hear her singing! scarce I know which is divinest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her looks sing too—she modulates her gestures on the tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her mouth stirs with the song, like song; and when the notes are finest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T is the eyes that shoot out vocal light and seem to swell them on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Then we talked—oh, how we talked! her voice, so cadenced in the talking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made another singing—of the soul! a music without bars:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the leafy sounds of woodlands, humming round where we were walking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought interposition worthy-sweet,—as skies about the stars.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And she spake such good thoughts natural, as if she always thought them;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She had sympathies so rapid, open, free as bird on branch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just as ready to fly east as west, whichever way besought them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the birchen-wood a chirrup, or a cock-crow in the grange.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">In her utmost lightness there is truth—and often she speaks lightly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has a grace in being gay which even mournful souls approve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the root of some grave earnest thought is understruck so rightly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to justify the foliage and the waving flowers above.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And she talked on—<i>we</i> talked, rather! upon all things, substance, shadow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the sheep that browsed the grasses, of the reapers in the corn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the little children from the schools, seen winding through the meadow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the poor rich world beyond them, still kept poorer by its scorn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XLIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">So, of men, and so, of letters—books are men of higher stature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the only men that speak aloud for future times to hear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, of mankind in the abstract, which grows slowly into nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet will lift the cry of "progress," as it trod from sphere to sphere.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">L.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And her custom was to praise me when I said,—"The Age culls simples,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a broad clown's back turned broadly to the glory of the stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are gods by our own reck'ning, and may well shut up the temples,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wield on, amid the incense-steam, the thunder of our cars.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"For we throw out acclamations of self-thanking, self admiring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With, at every mile run faster,—'O the wondrous wondrous age!'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little thinking if we work our <span class="small">SOULS</span> as nobly as our iron,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or if angels will commend us at the goal of pilgrimage.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Why, what <i>is</i> this patient entrance into nature's deep resources<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the child's most gradual learning to walk upright without bane?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we drive out, from the cloud of steam, majestical white horses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are we greater than the first men who led black ones by the mane?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"If we trod the deeps of ocean, if we struck the stars in rising,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If we wrapped the globe intensely with one hot electric breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T were but power within our tether, no new spirit-power comprising,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in life we were not greater men, nor bolder men in death."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">She was patient with my talking; and I loved her, loved her certes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I loved all heavenly objects, with uplifted eyes and hands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I loved pure inspirations, loved the graces, loved the virtues,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a Love content with writing his own name on desert sands.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Or at least I thought so, purely; thought no idiot Hope was raising<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Any crown to crown Love's silence, silent Love that sate alone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out, alas! the stag is like me, he that tries to go on grazing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the great deep gun-wound in his neck, then reels with sudden moan.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">It was thus I reeled. I told you that her hand had many suitors;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she smiles them down imperially as Venus did the waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with such a gracious coldness that they cannot press their futures<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the present of her courtesy, which yieldingly enslaves.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And this morning as I sat alone within the inner chamber<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the great saloon beyond it, lost in pleasant thought serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I had been reading Camoëns, that poem you remember,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which his lady's eyes are praised in as the sweetest ever seen.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And the book lay open, and my thought flew from it, taking from it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A vibration and impulsion to an end beyond its own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the branch of a green osier, when a child would overcome it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Springs up freely from his claspings and goes swinging in the sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">As I mused I heard a murmur; it grew deep as it grew longer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speakers using earnest language—"Lady Geraldine, you <i>would</i>!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I heard a voice that pleaded, ever on in accents stronger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a sense of reason gave it power to make its rhetoric good.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Well I knew that voice; it was an earl's, of soul that matched his station,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soul completed into lordship, might and right read on his brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Very finely courteous; far too proud to doubt his domination<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the common people, he atones for grandeur by a bow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">High straight forehead, nose of eagle, cold blue eyes of less expression<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than resistance, coldly casting off the looks of other men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As steel, arrows; unelastic lips which seem to taste possession<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be cautious lest the common air should injure or distrain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">For the rest, accomplished, upright,—ay, and standing by his order<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a bearing not ungraceful; fond of art and letters too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just a good man made a proud man,—as the sandy rocks that border<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wild coast, by circumstances, in a regnant ebb and flow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Thus, I knew that voice, I heard it, and I could not help the hearkening:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the room I stood up blindly, and my burning heart within<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed to seethe and fuse my senses till they ran on all sides darkening,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scorched, weighed like melted metal round my feet that stood therein.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">And that voice, I heard it pleading, for love's sake, for wealth, position,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the sake of liberal uses and great actions to be done:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she interrupted gently, "Nay, my lord, the old tradition<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of your Normans, by some worthier hand than mine is, should be won."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Ah, that white hand!" he said quickly,—and in his he either drew it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or attempted—for with gravity and instance she replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Nay, indeed, my lord, this talk is vain, and we had best eschew it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pass on, like friends, to other points less easy to decide."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">What he said again, I know not: it is likely that his trouble<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worked his pride up to the surface, for she answered in slow scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And your lordship judges rightly. Whom I marry shall be noble,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, and wealthy. I shall never blush to think how he was born."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">There, I maddened! her words stung me. Life swept through me into fever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my soul sprang up astonished, sprang full-statured in an hour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know you what it is when anguish, with apocalyptic <span class="small">NEVER</span>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a Pythian height dilates you, and despair sublimes to power?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">From my brain the soul-wings budded, waved a flame about my body,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence conventions coiled to ashes. I felt self-drawn out, as man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From amalgamate false natures, and I saw the skies grow ruddy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the deepening feet of angels, and I knew what spirits can.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">I was mad, inspired—say either! (anguish worketh inspiration)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was a man or beast—perhaps so, for the tiger roars when speared;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I walked on, step by step along the level of my passion—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh my soul! and passed the doorway to her face, and never feared.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0"><i>He</i> had left her, peradventure, when my footstep proved my coming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for <i>her</i>—she half arose, then sate, grew scarlet and grew pale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, she trembled! 't is so always with a worldly man or woman<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the presence of true spirits; what else <i>can</i> they do but quail?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Oh, she fluttered like a tame bird, in among its forest-brothers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far too strong for it; then drooping, bowed her face upon her hands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I spake out wildly, fiercely, brutal truths of her and others:<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I</i>, she planted in the desert, swathed her, windlike, with my sands.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">I plucked up her social fictions, bloody-rooted though leaf-verdant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trod them down with words of shaming,—all the purple and the gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the "landed stakes" and lordships, all that spirits pure and ardent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are cast out of love and honour because chancing not to hold.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"For myself I do not argue," said I, "though I love you, madam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for better souls that nearer to the height of yours have trod:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this age shows, to my thinking, still more infidels to Adam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than directly, by profession, simple infidels to God.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Yet, O God," I said, "O grave," I said, "O mother's heart and bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With whom first and last are equal, saint and corpse and little child!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are fools to your deductions, in these figments of heart-closing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are traitors to your causes, in these sympathies defiled.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Learn more reverence, madam, not for rank or wealth—<i>that</i> needs no learning:<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That</i> comes quickly, quick as sin does, ay, and culminates to sin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for Adam's seed, <span class="small">MAN</span>! Trust me, 't is a clay above your scorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With God's image stamped upon it, and God's kindling breath within.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"What right have you, madam, gazing in your palace mirror daily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Getting so by heart your beauty which all others must adore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While you draw the golden ringlets down your fingers, to vow gaily<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You will wed no man that's only good to God, and nothing more?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Why, what right have you, made fair by that same God, the sweetest woman<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all women He has fashioned, with your lovely spirit-face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which would seem too near to vanish if its smile were not so human,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And your voice of holy sweetness, turning common words to grace,—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"What right <i>can</i> you have, God's other works to scorn, despise, revile them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the gross, as mere men, broadly—not as <i>noble</i> men, forsooth,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As mere Pariahs of the outer world, forbidden to assoil them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the hope of living, dying, near that sweetness of your mouth?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Have you any answer, madam? If my spirit were less earthly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If its instrument were gifted with a better silver string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would kneel down where I stand, and say—Behold me! I am worthy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy loving, for I love thee. I am worthy as a king.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"As it is—your ermined pride, I swear, shall feel this stain upon her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That <i>I</i>, poor, weak, tost with passion, scorned by me and you again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love you, madam, dare to love you, to my grief and your dishonour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my endless desolation, and your impotent disdain!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">More mad words like these—mere madness! friend, I need not write them fuller,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I hear my hot soul dropping on the lines in showers of tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, a woman! friend, a woman! why, a beast had scarce been duller<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than roar bestial loud complaints against the shining of the spheres.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">But at last there came a pause. I stood all vibrating with thunder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which my soul had used. The silence drew her face up like a call.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could you guess what word she uttered? She looked up, as if in wonder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tears beaded on her lashes, and said—"Bertram!"—It was all.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">If she had cursed me, and she might have, or if even, with queenly bearing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which at need is used by women, she had risen up and said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sir, you are my guest, and therefore I have given you a full hearing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, beseech you, choose a name exacting somewhat less, instead!"—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">I had borne it: but that "Bertram"—why, it lies there on the paper<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mere word, without her accent, and you cannot judge the weight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the calm which crushed my passion: I seemed drowning in a vapour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her gentleness destroyed me whom her scorn made desolate.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">So, struck backward and exhausted by that inward flow of passion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which had rushed on, sparing nothing, into forms of abstract truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By a logic agonizing through unseemly demonstration,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by youth's own anguish turning grimly grey the hairs of youth,—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">By the sense accursed and instant, that if even I spake wisely<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I spake basely—using truth, if what I spake indeed was true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To avenge wrong on a woman—<i>her</i>, who sate there weighing nicely<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A poor manhood's worth, found guilty of such deeds as I could do!—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">By such wrong and woe exhausted—what I suffered and occasioned,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a wild horse through a city runs with lightning in his eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then dashing at a church's cold and passive wall, impassioned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strikes the death into his burning brain, and blindly drops and dies—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">So I fell, struck down before her—do you blame me, friend, for weakness?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T was my strength of passion slew me!—fell before her like a stone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fast the dreadful world rolled from me on its roaring wheels of blackness:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the light came I was lying in this chamber and alone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">LXXXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Oh, of course she charged her lacqueys to bear out the sickly burden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to cast it from her scornful sight, but not <i>beyond</i> the gate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is too kind to be cruel, and too haughty not to pardon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such a man as I; 't were something to be level to her hate.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XC.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">But for me—you now are conscious why, my friend, I write this letter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How my life is read all backward, and the charm of life undone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall leave her house at dawn; I would to-night, if I were better—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I charge my soul to hold my body strengthened for the sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XCI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">When the sun has dyed the oriel, I depart, with no last gazes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No weak moanings (one word only, left in writing for her hands),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of reach of all derision, and some unavailing praises,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make front against this anguish in the far and foreign lands.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XCII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Blame me not. I would not squander life in grief—I am abstemious.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I but nurse my spirit's falcon that its wing may soar again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's no room for tears of weakness in the blind eyes of a Phemius:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into work the poet kneads them, and he does not die <i>till then</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3 class="gap2">CONCLUSION.</h3> + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Bertram finished the last pages, while along the silence ever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still in hot and heavy splashes fell the tears on every leaf.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Having ended, he leans backward in his chair, with lips that quiver<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the deep unspoken, ay, and deep unwritten thoughts of grief.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Soh! how still the lady standeth! 'T is a dream—a dream of mercies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt the purple lattice-curtains how she standeth still and pale!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T is a vision, sure, of mercies, sent to soften his self curses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sent to sweep a patient quiet o'er the tossing of his wail.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">"Eyes," he said, "now throbbing through me! are ye eyes that did undo me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shining eyes, like antique jewels set in Parian statue-stone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Underneath that calm white forehead are ye ever burning torrid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the desolate sand-desert of my heart and life undone?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">With a murmurous stir uncertain, in the air the purple curtain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swelleth in and swelleth out around her motionless pale brows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the gliding of the river sends a rippling noise for ever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the open casement whitened by the moonlight's slant repose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Said he—"Vision of a lady! stand there silent, stand there steady!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now I see it plainly, plainly now I cannot hope or doubt—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, the brows of mild repression—there, the lips of silent passion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Curvèd like an archer's bow to send the bitter arrows out."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Ever, evermore the while in a slow silence she kept smiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And approached him slowly, slowly, in a gliding measured pace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her two white hands extended as if praying one offended,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a look of supplication gazing earnest in his face.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Said he—"Wake me by no gesture,—sound of breath, or stir of vesture!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the blessèd apparition melt not yet to its divine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No approaching—hush, no breathing! or my heart must swoon to death in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The too utter life thou bringest, O thou dream of Geraldine!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Ever, evermore the while in a slow silence she kept smiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the tears ran over lightly from her eyes and tenderly:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Dost thou, Bertram, truly love me? Is no woman far above me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found more worthy of thy poet-heart than such a one as <i>I</i>?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Said he—"I would dream so ever, like the flowing of that river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowing ever in a shadow greenly onward to the sea!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, thou vision of all sweetness, princely to a full completeness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would my heart and life flow onward, deathward, through this dream of <span class="small">THEE</span>!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Ever, evermore the while in a slow silence she kept smiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the silver tears ran faster down the blushing of her cheeks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then with both her hands enfolding both of his, she softly told him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Bertram, if I say I love thee, ... 't is the vision only speaks."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Softened, quickened to adore her, on his knee he fell before her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she whispered low in triumph, "It shall be as I have sworn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Very rich he is in virtues, very noble—noble, certes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I shall not blush in knowing that men call him lowly born."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="THE_RUNAWAY_SLAVE_AT_PILGRIMS_POINT" id="THE_RUNAWAY_SLAVE_AT_PILGRIMS_POINT"></a><i>THE RUNAWAY SLAVE AT PILGRIM'S POINT.</i></h2> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I stand on the mark beside the shore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the first white pilgrim's bended knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where exile turned to ancestor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And God was thanked for liberty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have run through the night, my skin is as dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bend my knee down on this mark:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I look on the sky and the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O pilgrim-souls, I speak to you!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I see you come proud and slow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the land of the spirits pale as dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And round me and round me ye go.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O pilgrims, I have gasped and run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All night long from the whips of one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who in your names works sin and woe!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thus I thought that I would come<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And kneel here where ye knelt before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feel your souls around me hum<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In undertone to the ocean's roar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lift my black face, my black hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, in your names, to curse this land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye blessed in freedom's, evermore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am black, I am black,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet God made me, they say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if He did so, smiling back<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He must have cast his work away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the feet of his white creatures,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a look of scorn, that the dusky features<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might be trodden again to clay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet He has made dark things<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To be glad and merry as light:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's a little dark bird sits and sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There's a dark stream ripples out of sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dark frogs chant in the safe morass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sweetest stars are made to pass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the face of the darkest night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But <i>we</i> who are dark, we are dark!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah God, we have no stars!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About our souls in care and cark<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our blackness shuts like prison-bars:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poor souls crouch so far behind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That never a comfort can they find<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By reaching through the prison-bars.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Indeed we live beneath the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That great smooth Hand of God stretched out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On all His children fatherly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To save them from the dread and doubt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which would be if, from this low place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All opened straight up to His face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into the grand eternity.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And still God's sunshine and His frost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They make us hot, they make us cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if we were not black and lost;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the beasts and birds, in wood and fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do fear and take us for very men:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could the whip-poor-will or the cat of the glen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look into my eyes and be bold?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am black, I am black!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But, once, I laughed in girlish glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For one of my colour stood in the track<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the drivers drove, and looked at me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tender and full was the look he gave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could a slave look <i>so</i> at another slave?—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I look at the sky and the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And from that hour our spirits grew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As free as if unsold, unbought:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, strong enough, since we were two,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To conquer the world, we thought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The drivers drove us day by day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We did not mind, we went one way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And no better a freedom sought.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the sunny ground between the canes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He said "I love you" as he passed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the shingle-roof rang sharp with the rains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I heard how he vowed it fast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While others shook he smiled in the hut,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he carved me a bowl of the cocoa-nut<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the roar of the hurricanes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I sang his name instead of a song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over and over I sang his name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upward and downward I drew it along<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My various notes,—the same, the same!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sang it low, that the slave-girls near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might never guess, from aught they could hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was only a name—a name.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I look on the sky and the sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We were two to love, and two to pray:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, two, O God, who cried to Thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though nothing didst Thou say!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Coldly Thou sat'st behind the sun:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now I cry who am but one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou wilt not speak to-day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We were black, we were black,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We had no claim to love and bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What marvel if each went to wrack?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They wrung my cold hands out of his,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They dragged him—where? I crawled to touch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His blood's mark in the dust ... not much,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye pilgrim-souls, though plain as <i>this</i>!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wrong, followed by a deeper wrong!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mere grief's too good for such as I:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So the white men brought the shame ere long<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To strangle the sob of my agony.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They would not leave me for my dull<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wet eyes!—it was too merciful<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To let me weep pure tears and die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am black, I am black!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I wore a child upon my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An amulet that hung too slack,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, in my unrest, could not rest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus we went moaning, child and mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One to another, one to another,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Until all ended for the best.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For hark! I will tell you low, low,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am black, you see,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the babe who lay on my bosom so,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was far too white, too white for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As white as the ladies who scorned to pray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside me at church but yesterday,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though my tears had washed a place for my knee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My own, own child! I could not bear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To look in his face, it was so white;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I covered him up with a kerchief there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I covered his face in close and tight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he moaned and struggled, as well might be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the white child wanted his liberty—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha, ha! he wanted the master-right.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He moaned and beat with his head and feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His little feet that never grew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He struck them out, as it was meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Against my heart to break it through:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I might have sung and made him mild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I dared not sing to the white-faced child<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The only song I knew.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I pulled the kerchief very close:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He could not see the sun, I swear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More, then, alive, than now he does<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From between the roots of the mango ... where?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know where. Close! A child and mother<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do wrong to look at one another<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When one is black and one is fair.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why, in that single glance I had<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of my child's face, ... I tell you all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw a look that made me mad!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The <i>master's</i> look, that used to fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On my soul like his lash ... or worse!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so, to save it from my curse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I twisted it round in my shawl.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And he moaned and trembled from foot to head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He shivered from head to foot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till after a time, he lay instead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too suddenly still and mute.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I felt, beside, a stiffening cold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dared to lift up just a fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As in lifting a leaf of the mango-fruit.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But <i>my</i> fruit ... ha, ha!—there, had been<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(I laugh to think on 't at this hour!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your fine white angels (who have seen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nearest the secret of God's power)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And plucked my fruit to make them wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sucked the soul of that child of mine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the humming-bird sucks the soul of the flower.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ha, ha, the trick of the angels white!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They freed the white child's spirit so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I said not a word, but day and night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I carried the body to and fro,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it lay on my heart like a stone, as chill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—The sun may shine out as much as he will:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am cold, though it happened a month ago.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the white man's house, and the black man's hut,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I carried the little body on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The forest's arms did round us shut,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And silence through the trees did run:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They asked no question as I went,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They stood too high for astonishment,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They could see God sit on his throne.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My little body, kerchiefed fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I bore it on through the forest, on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I felt it was tired at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I scooped a hole beneath the moon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the forest-tops the angels far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a white sharp finger from every star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did point and mock at what was done.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet when it was all done aught,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Earth, 'twixt me and my baby, strewed,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All, changed to black earth,—nothing white,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A dark child in the dark!—ensued<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some comfort, and my heart grew young;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sate down smiling there and sung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The song I learnt in my maidenhood.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thus we two were reconciled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The white child and black mother, thus;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For as I sang it soft and wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The same song, more melodious,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose from the grave whereon I sate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was the dead child singing that,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To join the souls of both of us.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I look on the sea and the sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the pilgrims' ships first anchored lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The free sun rideth gloriously,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the pilgrim-ghosts have slid away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the earliest streaks of the morn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My face is black, but it glares with a scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which they dare not meet by day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ha!—in their stead, their hunter sons!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha, ha! they are on me—they hunt in a ring!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep off! I brave you all at once,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I throw off your eyes like snakes that sting!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You have killed the black eagle at nest, I think:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did you ever stand still in your triumph, and shrink<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the stroke of her wounded wing?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(Man, drop that stone you dared to lift!—)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I wish you who stand there five abreast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each, for his own wife's joy and gift,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A little corpse as safely at rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As mine in the mangoes! Yes, but <i>she</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">May keep live babies on her knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sing the song she likes the best.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am not mad: I am black.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I see you staring in my face—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know you staring, shrinking back,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye are born of the Washington-race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this land is the free America,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this mark on my wrist—(I prove what I say)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ropes tied me up here to the flogging-place.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You think I shrieked then? Not a sound!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I hung, as a gourd hangs in the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only cursed them all around<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As softly as I might have done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My very own child: from these sands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up to the mountains, lift your hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O slaves, and end what I begun!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whips, curses; these must answer those!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For in this <span class="smcap">Union</span> you have set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two kinds of men in adverse rows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each loathing each; and all forget<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seven wounds in Christ's body fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While <span class="smcap">He</span> sees gaping everywhere<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our countless wounds that pay no debt.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our wounds are different. Your white men<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are, after all, not gods indeed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor able to make Christs again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Do good with bleeding. <i>We</i> who bleed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Stand off!) we help not in our loss!<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>We</i> are too heavy for our cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fall and crush you and your seed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fall, I swoon! I look at the sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The clouds are breaking on my brain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am floated along, as if I should die<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of liberty's exquisite pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the name of the white child waiting for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the death-dark where we may kiss and agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White men, I leave you all curse-free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In my broken heart's disdain!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="THE_CRY_OF_THE_CHILDREN" id="THE_CRY_OF_THE_CHILDREN"></a><i>THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN.</i></h2> + +<p class="center">"Φηῦ, φηῦ, τί προσδέρκεσθέ μ' ὄμμασιν, +τέκνα;"—Medea.</p> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ere the sorrow comes with years?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are leaning their young heads against their mothers.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And <i>that</i> cannot stop their tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young lambs are bleating in the meadows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The young birds are chirping in the nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young fawns are playing with the shadows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The young flowers are blowing toward the west—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the young, young children, O my brothers,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">They are weeping bitterly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are weeping in the playtime of the others,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the country of the free.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do you question the young children in the sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Why their tears are falling so?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old man may weep for his to-morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which is lost in Long Ago;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old tree is leafless in the forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The old year is ending in the frost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old wound, if stricken, is the sorest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The old hope is hardest to be lost:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the young, young children, O my brothers,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Do you ask them why they stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weeping sore before the bosoms of their mothers,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In our happy Fatherland?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They look up with their pale and sunken faces,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And their looks are sad to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the man's hoary anguish draws and presses<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Down the cheeks of infancy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Your old earth," they say, "is very dreary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our young feet," they say, "are very weak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Few paces have we taken, yet are weary—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our grave-rest is very far to seek:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask the aged why they weep, and not the children,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For the outside earth is cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we young ones stand without, in our bewildering,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the graves are for the old."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"True," say the children, "it may happen<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That we die before our time:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little Alice died last year, her grave is shapen<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like a snowball, in the rime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We looked into the pit prepared to take her:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was no room for any work in the close clay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the sleep wherein she lieth none will wake her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Crying, 'Get up, little Alice! it is day.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you listen by that grave, in sun and shower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With your ear down, little Alice never cries;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could we see her face, be sure we should not know her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the smile has time for growing in her eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And merry go her moments, lulled and stilled in<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The shroud by the kirk-chime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is good when it happens," say the children,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"That we die before our time."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas, alas, the children! they are seeking<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Death in life, as best to have:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are binding up their hearts away from breaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a cerement from the grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go out, children, from the mine and from the city,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pluck your handfuls of the meadow-cowslips pretty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Laugh aloud, to feel your fingers let them through!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they answer, "Are your cowslips of the meadows<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like our weeds anear the mine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave us quiet in the dark of the coal-shadows,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From your pleasures fair and fine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For oh," say the children, "we are weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And we cannot run or leap;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If we cared for any meadows, it were merely<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To drop down in them and sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We fall upon our faces, trying to go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, underneath our heavy eyelids drooping,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The reddest flower would look as pale as snow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, all day, we drag our burden tiring<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through the coal-dark, underground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, all day, we drive the wheels of iron<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the factories, round and round.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For all day the wheels are droning, turning;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Their wind comes in our faces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till our hearts turn, our heads with pulses burning,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the walls turn in their places:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turns the sky in the high window, blank and reeling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Turns the long light that drops adown the wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All are turning, all the day, and we with all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all day the iron wheels are droning,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And sometimes we could pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'O ye wheels' (breaking out in a mad moaning),<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Stop! be silent for to-day!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ay, be silent! Let them hear each other breathing<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For a moment, mouth to mouth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let them touch each other's hands, in a fresh wreathing<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of their tender human youth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let them feel that this cold metallic motion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is not all the life God fashions or reveals:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let them prove their living souls against the notion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That they live in you, or under you, O wheels!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still, all day, the iron wheels go onward,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Grinding life down from its mark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the children's souls, which God is calling sunward,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Spin on blindly in the dark.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now tell the poor young children, O my brothers,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To look up to Him and pray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So the blessed One who blesseth all the others,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Will bless them another day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They answer, "Who is God that He should hear us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the rushing of the iron wheels is stirred?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we sob aloud, the human creatures near us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pass by, hearing not, or answer not a word.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And <i>we</i> hear not (for the wheels in their resounding)<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Strangers speaking at the door:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it likely God, with angels singing round Him,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hears our weeping any more?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Two words, indeed, of praying we remember,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And at midnight's hour of harm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Our Father,' looking upward in the chamber,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">We say softly for a charm.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">We know no other words except 'Our Father,'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we think that, in some pause of angels' song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God may pluck them with the silence sweet to gather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hold both within His right hand which is strong.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Our Father!' If He heard us, He would surely<br /></span> +<span class="i4">(For they call Him good and mild)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Answer, smiling down the steep world very purely,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Come and rest with me, my child.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But, no!" say the children, weeping faster,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"He is speechless as a stone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they tell us, of His image is the master<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Who commands us to work on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go to!" say the children,—"up in Heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dark, wheel-like, turning clouds are all we find.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not mock us; grief has made us unbelieving:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We look up for God, but tears have made us blind."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you hear the children weeping and disproving,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O my brothers, what ye preach?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For God's possible is taught by His world's loving,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the children doubt of each.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And well may the children weep before you!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">They are weary ere they run;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have never seen the sunshine, nor the glory<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which is brighter than the sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They know the grief of man, without its wisdom;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They sink in man's despair, without its calm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are slaves, without the liberty in Christdom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are martyrs, by the pang without the palm:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are worn as if with age, yet unretrievingly<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The harvest of its memories cannot reap,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are orphans of the earthly love and heavenly.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Let them weep! let them weep!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They look up with their pale and sunken faces,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And their look is dread to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they mind you of their angels in high places,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With eyes turned on Deity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"How long," they say, "how long, O cruel nation,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will you stand, to move the world, on a child's heart,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And tread onward to your throne amid the mart?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our blood splashes upward, O gold-heaper,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And your purple shows your path!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the child's sob in the silence curses deeper<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Than the strong man in his wrath."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> A fact rendered pathetically historical by Mr. Horne's report of +his Commission. The name of the poet of "Orion" and "Cosmo de' Medici" +has, however, a change of associations, and comes in time to remind me +that we have some noble poetic heat of literature still,—however open +to the reproach of being somewhat gelid in our humanity—1844.</p> +</div></div> + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="A_CHILD_ASLEEP" id="A_CHILD_ASLEEP"></a><i>A CHILD ASLEEP.</i></h2> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">How he sleepeth, having drunken<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Weary childhood's mandragore!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From its pretty eyes have sunken<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Pleasures to make room for more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleeping near the withered nosegay which he pulled the day before.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Nosegays! leave them for the waking;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Throw them earthward where they grew;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dim are such beside the breaking<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Amaranths he looks unto:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Folded eyes see brighter colours than the open ever do.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Heaven-flowers, rayed by shadows golden<br /></span> +<span class="i6">From the palms they sprang beneath,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Now perhaps divinely holden,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Swing against him in a wreath:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We may think so from the quickening of his bloom and of his breath.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Vision unto vision calleth<br /></span> +<span class="i6">While the young child dreameth on:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fair, O dreamer, thee befalleth<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With the glory thou hast won!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darker wast thou in the garden yestermorn by summer sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">We should see the spirits ringing<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Round thee, were the clouds away:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'T is the child-heart draws them, singing<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In the silent-seeming clay—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing! stars that seem the mutest go in music all the way.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">As the moths around a taper,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">As the bees around a rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As the gnats around a vapour,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">So the spirits group and close<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round about a holy childhood as if drinking its repose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Shapes of brightness overlean thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Flash their diadems of youth<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the ringlets which half screen thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">While thou smilest ... not in sooth<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Thy</i> smile, but the overfair one, dropt from some etherial mouth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Haply it is angels' duty,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">During slumber, shade by shade<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To fine down this childish beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To the thing it must be made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere the world shall bring it praises, or the tomb shall see it fade.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Softly, softly! make no noises!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Now he lieth dead and dumb;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Now he hears the angels' voices<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Folding silence in the room<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now he muses deep the meaning of the Heaven-words as they come.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Speak not! he is consecrated;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Breathe no breath across his eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lifted up and separated<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On the hand of God he lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a sweetness beyond touching, held in cloistral sanctities.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Could ye bless him, father—mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Bless the dimple in his cheek?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dare ye look at one another<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And the benediction speak?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would ye not break out in weeping and confess yourselves too weak?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">He is harmless, ye are sinful;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ye are troubled, he at ease;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From his slumber virtue winful<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Floweth outward with increase.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dare not bless him! but be blessèd by his peace, and go in peace.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="THE_FOURFOLD_ASPECT" id="THE_FOURFOLD_ASPECT"></a><i>THE FOURFOLD ASPECT.</i></h2> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">When ye stood up in the house<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With your little childish feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, in touching Life's first shows,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">First the touch of Love did meet,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love and Nearness seeming one,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By the heartlight cast before,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And of all Beloveds, none<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Standing farther than the door;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not a name being dear to thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With its owner beyond call;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not a face, unless it brought<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Its own shadow to the wall;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the worst recorded change<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Was of apple dropt from bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When love's sorrow seemed more strange<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Than love's treason can seem now;—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, the Loving took you up<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Soft, upon their elder knees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Telling why the statues droop<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Underneath the churchyard trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And how ye must lie beneath them<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through the winters long and deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the last trump overbreathe them,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And ye smile out of your sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, ye lifted up your head, and it seemed as if they said<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A tale of fairy ships<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With a swan-wing for a sail;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, ye kissed their loving lips<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For the merry merry tale—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So carelessly ye thought upon the Dead!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Soon ye read in solemn stories<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the men of long ago,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the pale bewildering glories<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Shining farther than we know;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the heroes with the laurel,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the poets with the bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the two worlds' earnest quarrel<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For that beauteous Helena;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How Achilles at the portal<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the tent heard footsteps nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And his strong heart, half-immortal,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Met the <i>keitai</i> with a cry;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How Ulysses left the sunlight<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For the pale eidola race<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blank and passive through the dun light,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Staring blindly in his face;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How that true wife said to Poetus,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With calm smile and wounded heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Sweet, it hurts not!" How Admetus<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Saw his blessed one depart;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How King Arthur proved his mission,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And Sir Roland wound his horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And at Sangreal's moony vision<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Swords did bristle round like corn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, ye lifted up your head, and it seemed, the while ye read,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That this Death, then, must be found<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A Valhalla for the crowned,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The heroic who prevail:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">None, be sure can enter in<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Far below a paladin<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of a noble noble tale—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So awfully ye thought upon the Dead!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Ay, but soon ye woke up shrieking,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As a child that wakes at night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From a dream of sisters speaking<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In a garden's summer-light,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wakes, starting up and bounding,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In a lonely lonely bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a wall of darkness round him,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Stifling black about his head!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the full sense of your mortal<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Rushed upon you deep and loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ye heard the thunder hurtle<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From the silence of the cloud.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Funeral-torches at your gateway<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Threw a dreadful light within.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All things changed: you rose up straightway,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And saluted Death and Sin.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since, your outward man has rallied,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And your eye and voice grown bold;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet the Sphinx of Life stands pallid,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With her saddest secret told.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Happy places have grown holy:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If ye went where once ye went,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Only tears would fall down slowly,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As at solemn sacrament.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Merry books, once read for pastime,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If ye dared to read again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Only memories of the last time<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Would swim darkly up the brain.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Household names, which used to flutter<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through your laughter unawares,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">God's Divinest ye could utter<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With less trembling in your prayers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye have dropt adown your head, and it seems as if ye tread<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On your own hearts in the path<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ye are called to in His wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And your prayers go up in wail<br /></span> +<span class="i4">—"Dost Thou see, then, all our loss,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O Thou agonized on cross?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Art thou reading all its tale?"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So mournfully ye think upon the Dead!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Pray, pray, thou who also weepest,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the drops will slacken so.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weep, weep, and the watch thou keepest<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a quicker count will go.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Think: the shadow on the dial<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For the nature most undone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Marks the passing of the trial,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Proves the presence of the sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look, look up, in starry passion,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the throne above the spheres:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Learn: the spirit's gravitation<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Still must differ from the tear's.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hope: with all the strength thou usest<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In embracing thy despair.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love: the earthly love thou losest<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Shall return to thee more fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Work: make clear the forest-tangles<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the wildest stranger-land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trust: the blessèd deathly angels<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whisper, "Sabbath hours at hand!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the heart's wound when most gory,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By the longest agony,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smile! Behold in sudden glory<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The <span class="smcap">Transfigured</span> smiles on <i>thee</i>!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye lifted up your head, and it seemed as if He said,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"My Belovèd, is it so?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Have ye tasted of my woe?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of my Heaven ye shall not fail!"<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He stands brightly where the shade is,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With the keys of Death and Hades,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And there, ends the mournful tale—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So hopefully ye think upon the Dead!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="NIGHT_AND_THE_MERRY_MAN" id="NIGHT_AND_THE_MERRY_MAN"></a><i>NIGHT AND THE MERRY MAN.</i></h2> + + +<p class="center">NIGHT.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Neath my moon what doest thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a somewhat paler brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than she giveth to the ocean?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, without a pulse or motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Muttering low before her stands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifting his invoking hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a seer before a sprite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To catch her oracles of light:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thy soul out-trembles now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many pulses on thy brow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where be all thy laughters clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Others laughed alone to hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thy quaint jests, said for fame?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thy dances, mixed with game?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thy festive companies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moonèd o'er with ladies' eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All more bright for thee, I trow?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath my moon what doest thou?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p class="center"><a name="THE_MERRY_MAN" id="THE_MERRY_MAN"></a>THE MERRY MAN.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am digging my warm heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till I find its coldest part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am digging wide and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Further than a spade will go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till that, when the pit is deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And large enough, I there may heap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All my present pain and past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy, dead things that look aghast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the daylight: now 't is done.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throw them in, by one and one!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I must laugh, at rising sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Memories—of fancy's golden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Treasures which my hands have holden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the chillness made them ache;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of childhood's hopes that used to wake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If birds were in a singing strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for less cause, sleep again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the moss-seat in the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I trysted solitude;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the hill-top where the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Used to follow me behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then in sudden rush to blind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both my glad eyes with my hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Taken gladly in the snare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the climbing up the rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the playing 'neath the oaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which retain beneath them now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only shadow of the bough;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the lying on the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the clouds did overpass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only they, so lightly driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeming betwixt me and Heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the little prayers serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Murmuring of earth and sin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of large-leaved philosophy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaning from my childish knee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of poetic book sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soul-kissed for the first dear time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Greek or English, ere I knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life was not a poem too:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throw them in, by one and one!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I must laugh, at rising sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Of the glorious ambitions<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet unquenched by their fruitions<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the reading out the nights;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the straining at mad heights;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of achievements, less descried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By a dear few than magnified;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of praises from the many earned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When praise from love was undiscerned;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the sweet reflecting gladness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Softened by itself to sadness:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throw them in, by one and one!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I must laugh, at rising sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What are these? more, more than these!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throw in dearer memories!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of voices whereof but to speak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes mine own all sunk and weak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of smiles the thought of which is sweeping<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All my soul to floods of weeping;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of looks whose absence fain would weigh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My looks to the ground for aye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of clasping hands—ah me, I wring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine, and in a tremble fling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Downward, downward all this paining!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Partings with the sting remaining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meetings with a deeper throe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the joy is ruined so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changes with a fiery burning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Shadows upon all the turning,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughts of ... with a storm they came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Them</i> I have not breath to name:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Downward, downward be they cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the pit! and now at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My work beneath the moon is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I shall laugh, at rising sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But let me pause or ere I cover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All my treasures darkly over:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will speak not in thine ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only tell my beaded tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silently, most silently.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the last is calmly told,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let that same moist rosary<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the rest sepùlchred be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Finished now! The darksome mould<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sealeth up the darksome pit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will lay no stone on it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grasses I will sow instead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fit for Queen Titania's tread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowers, encoloured with the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And αι αι written upon none;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, whenever saileth by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Lady World of dainty eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a grief shall here remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silken shoon to damp or stain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while she lisps, "I have not seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Any place more smooth and clean" ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here she cometh!—Ha, ha!—who<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laughs as loud as I can do?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="EARTH_AND_HER_PRAISERS" id="EARTH_AND_HER_PRAISERS"></a><i>EARTH AND HER PRAISERS.</i></h2> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">The Earth is old;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Six thousand winters make her heart a-cold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sceptre slanteth from her palsied hold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She saith, "'Las me! God's word that I was 'good'<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Is taken back to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From whence when any sound comes, I am riven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By some sharp bolt; and now no angel would<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Descend with sweet dew-silence on my mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To glorify the lovely river fountains<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That gush along their side:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see—O weary change!—I see instead<br /></span> +<span class="i6">This human wrath and pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These thrones and tombs, judicial wrong and blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bitter words are poured upon mine head—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'O Earth! thou art a stage for tricks unholy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A church for most remorseful melancholy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art so spoilt, we should forget we had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An Eden in thee, wert thou not so sad!'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet children, I am old! ye, every one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do keep me from a portion of my sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Give praise in change for brightness!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I may shake my hills in infiniteness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of breezy laughter, as in youthful mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear Earth's sons and daughters praising Earth."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Whereupon a child began<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With spirit running up to man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As by angels' shining ladder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(May he find no cloud above!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeming he had ne'er been sadder<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All his days than now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sitting in the chestnut grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that joyous overflow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of smiling from his mouth o'er brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cheek and chin, as if the breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaning tricksy from the trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To part his golden hairs, had blown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into an hundred smiles that one.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"O rare, rare Earth!" he saith,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"I will praise thee presently;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not to-day; I have no breath:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have hunted squirrels three—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two ran down in the furzy hollow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I could not see nor follow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One sits at the top of the filbert-tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a yellow nut and a mock at me:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Presently it shall be done!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I see which way these two have run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the mocking one at the filbert-top<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall leap a-down and beside me stop,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, rare Earth, rare Earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will I pause, having known thy worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To say all good of thee!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Next a lover,—with a dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath his waking eyelids hidden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a frequent sigh unbidden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And an idlesse all the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside a wandering stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a silence that is made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a word he dares not say,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shakes slow his pensive head:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Earth, Earth!" saith he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"If spirits, like thy roses, grew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On one stalk, and winds austere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could but only blow them near,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To share each other's dew;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If, when summer rains agree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To beautify thy hills, I knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looking off them I might see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some one very beauteous too,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then Earth," saith he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I would praise ... nay, nay—not <i>thee</i>!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Will the pedant name her next?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crabbèd with a crabbèd text<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits he in his study nook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his elbow on a book,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with stately crossèd knees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a wrinkle deeply thrid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through his lowering brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Caused by making proofs enow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Plato in "Parmenides"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meant the same Spinoza did,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, that an hundred of the groping<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like himself, had made one Homer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Homeros</i> being a misnomer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What hath <i>he</i> to do with praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Earth or aught? Whene'er the sloping<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunbeams through his window daze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His eyes off from the learned phrase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Straightway he draws close the curtain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May abstraction keep him dumb!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were his lips to ope, 't is certain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"<i>Derivatum est</i>" would come.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Then a mourner moveth pale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a silence full of wail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raising not his sunken head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because he wandered last that way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that one beneath the clay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weeping not, because that one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The only one who would have said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Cease to weep, beloved!" has gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence returneth comfort none.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silence breaketh suddenly,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Earth, I praise thee!" crieth he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thou hast a grave for also <i>me</i>."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Ha, a poet! know him by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ecstasy-dilated eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not uncharged with tears that ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upward from his heart of man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the cheek, from hour to hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindled bright or sunken wan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a sense of lonely power;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the brow uplifted higher<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than others, for more low declining<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the lip which words of fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Overboiling have burned white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While they gave the nations light:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, in every time and place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye may know the poet's face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the shade or shining.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">'Neath a golden cloud he stands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spreading his impassioned hands.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O God's Earth!" he saith, "the sign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the Father-soul to mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all beauteous mysteries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all perfect images<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, divine in His divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my human only are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Very excellent and fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think not, Earth, that I would raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weary forehead in thy praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Weary, that I cannot go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farther from thy region low,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If were struck no richer meanings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thee than thyself. The leaning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the close trees o'er the brim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a sunshine-haunted stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have a sound beneath their leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not of wind, not of wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which the poet's voice achieves:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The faint mountains, heaped behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have a falling on their tops,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not of dew, not of dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which the poet's fancy drops:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Viewless things his eyes can view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Driftings of his dream do light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the skies by day and night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the seas that deepest roll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carry murmurs of his soul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Earth, I praise thee! praise thou <i>me</i>!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God perfecteth his creation<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With this recipient poet-passion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes the beautiful to be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I praise thee, O belovèd sign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the God-soul unto mine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praise me, that I cast on thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cunning sweet interpretation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The help and glory and dilation<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of mine immortality!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">There was silence. None did dare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To use again the spoken air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that far-charming voice, until<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Christian resting on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a thoughtful smile subdued<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Seeming learnt in solitude)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which a weeper might have viewed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without new tears, did softly say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looked up unto heaven alway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While he praised the Earth—<br /></span> +<span class="i10">"O Earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I count the praises thou art worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thy waves that move aloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thy hills against the cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thy valleys warm and green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the copses' elms between,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By their birds which, like a sprite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scattered by a strong delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into fragments musical,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stir and sing in every bush;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thy silver founts that fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if to entice the stars at night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thine heart; by grass and rush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And little weeds the children pull,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mistook for flowers!<br /></span> +<span class="i10">—Oh, beautiful<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art thou, Earth, albeit worse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than in heaven is callèd good!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good to us, that we may know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meekly from thy good to go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the holy, crying Blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Puts its music kind and low<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt such ears as are not dull,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thine ancient curse!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Praisèd be the mosses soft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy forest pathways oft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the thorns, which make us think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the thornless river-brink<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the ransomed tread:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praisèd be thy sunny gleams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the storm, that worketh dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of calm unfinishèd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praisèd be thine active days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy night-time's solemn need,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in God's dear book we read<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>No night shall be therein</i>:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praisèd be thy dwellings warm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By household faggot's cheerful blaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, to hear of pardoned sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pauseth oft the merry din,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save the babe's upon the arm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who croweth to the crackling wood:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, and, better understood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praisèd be thy dwellings cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hid beneath the churchyard mould,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the bodies of the saints<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Separate from earthly taints<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie asleep, in blessing bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waiting for the trumpet's sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To free them into blessing;—none<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weeping more beneath the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though dangerous words of human love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be graven very near, above.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">"Earth, we Christians praise thee thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even for the change that comes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a grief from thee to us:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thy cradles and thy tombs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the pleasant corn and wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And summer-heat; and also for<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frost upon the sycamore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hail upon the vine!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="THE_VIRGIN_MARY_TO_THE_CHILD_JESUS" id="THE_VIRGIN_MARY_TO_THE_CHILD_JESUS"></a><i>THE VIRGIN MARY TO THE CHILD JESUS.</i></h2> + +<div class="poem small"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">But see the Virgin blest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath laid her babe to rest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style="margin-left: 50%;"><span class="smcap">Milton's</span> <i>Hymn on the Nativity</i>.</p> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Sleep, sleep, mine Holy One!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My flesh, my Lord!—what name? I do not know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A name that seemeth not too high or low,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Too far from me or heaven:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Jesus, <i>that</i> is best! that word being given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the majestic angel whose command<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was softly as a man's beseeching said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I and all the earth appeared to stand<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In the great overflow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of light celestial from his wings and head.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Sleep, sleep, my saving One!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And art Thou come for saving, baby-browed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And speechless Being—art Thou come for saving?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The palm that grows beside our door is bowed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By treadings of the low wind from the south,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A restless shadow through the chamber waving:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon its bough a bird sings in the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Thou, with that close slumber on Thy mouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost seem of wind and sun already weary.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art come for saving, O my weary One?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Perchance this sleep that shutteth out the dreary<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth-sounds and motions, opens on Thy soul<br /></span> +<span class="i4">High dreams on fire with God;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High songs that make the pathways where they roll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More bright than stars do theirs; and visions new<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Thine eternal Nature's old abode.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Suffer this mother's kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Best thing that earthly is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To glide the music and the glory through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor narrow in Thy dream the broad upliftings<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of any seraph wing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus noiseless, thus. Sleep, sleep my dreaming One!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The slumber of His lips meseems to run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through <i>my</i> lips to mine heart, to all its shiftings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sensual life, bringing contrariousness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a great calm. I feel I could lie down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Moses did, and die,<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a>—and then live most.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am 'ware of you, heavenly Presences,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That stand with your peculiar light unlost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each forehead with a high thought for a crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unsunned i' the sunshine! I am 'ware. Ye throw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No shade against the wall! How motionless<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye round me with your living statuary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While through your whiteness, in and outwardly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Continual thoughts of God appear to go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like light's soul in itself. I bear, I bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To look upon the dropt lids of your eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though their external shining testifies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that beatitude within which were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enough to blast an eagle at his sun:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fall not on my sad clay face before ye,—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">I look on His. I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit which dilateth with the woe<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of His mortality,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">May well contain your glory.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Yea, drop your lids more low.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye are but fellow-worshippers with me!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Sleep, sleep, my worshipped One!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We sate among the stalls at Bethlehem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dumb kine from their fodder turning them,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Softened their hornèd faces<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To almost human gazes<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Toward the newly Born:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The simple shepherds from the star-lit brooks<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Brought visionary looks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As yet in their astonied hearing rung<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The strange sweet angel-tongue:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The magi of the East, in sandals worn,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Knelt reverent, sweeping round,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With long pale beards, their gifts upon the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The incense, myrrh and gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These baby hands were impotent to hold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So let all earthlies and celestials wait<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Upon Thy royal state.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sleep, sleep, my kingly One!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am not proud—meek angels, ye invest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New meeknesses to hear such utterance rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On mortal lips,—"I am not proud"—<i>not proud!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Albeit in my flesh God sent His Son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Albeit over Him my head is bowed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As others bow before Him, still mine heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bows lower than their knees. O centuries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That roll in vision your futurities<br /></span> +<span class="i6">My future grave athwart,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose murmurs seem to reach me while I keep<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Watch o'er this sleep,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say of me as the Heavenly said—"Thou art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blessedest of women!"—blessedest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not holiest, not noblest, no high name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose height misplaced may pierce me like a shame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I sit meek in heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i10">For me, for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God knows that I am feeble like the rest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I often wandered forth, more child than maiden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the midnight hills of Galilee<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Whose summits looked heaven-laden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Listening to silence as it seemed to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's voice, so soft yet strong, so fain to press<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon my heart as heaven did on the height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And waken up its shadows by a light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And show its vileness by a holiness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I knelt down most silent like the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Too self-renounced for fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raising my small face to the boundless blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose stars did mix and tremble in my tears:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God heard <i>them</i> falling after, with His dew.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, seeing my corruption, can I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Incorruptible now born of me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This fair new Innocence no sun did chance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shine on, (for even Adam was no child,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Created from my nature all defiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This mystery, from out mine ignorance,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor feel the blindness, stain, corruption, more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than others do, or <i>I</i> did heretofore?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can hands wherein such burden pure has been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not open with the cry "unclean, unclean,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More oft than any else beneath the skies?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ah King, ah, Christ, ah son!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kine, the shepherds, the abasèd wise<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Must all less lowly wait<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Than I, upon Thy state.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sleep, sleep, my kingly One!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Art Thou a King, then? Come, His universe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, crown me Him a King!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pluck rays from all such stars as never fling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their light where fell a curse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make a crowning for this kingly brow!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is my word? Each empyreal star<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Sits in a sphere afar<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In shining ambuscade:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The child-brow, crowned by none,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Keeps its unchildlike shade.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Sleep, sleep, my crownless One!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unchildlike shade! No other babe doth wear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An aspect very sorrowful, as Thou.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No small babe-smiles my watching heart has seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To float like speech the speechless lips between,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No dovelike cooing in the golden air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No quick short joys of leaping babyhood.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Alas, our earthly good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In heaven thought evil, seems too good for Thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Yet, sleep, my weary One!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then the drear sharp tongue of prophecy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the dread sense of things which shall be done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth smite me inly, like a sword: a sword?<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That</i> "smites the Shepherd." Then, I think aloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The words "despised,"—"rejected,"—every word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Recoiling into darkness as I view<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The <span class="smcap">Darling</span> on my knee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright angels,—move not—lest ye stir the cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betwixt my soul and His futurity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I must not die, with mother's work to do,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And could not live-and see.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">It is enough to bear<br /></span> +<span class="i6">This image still and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">This holier in sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Than a saint at prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">This aspect of a child<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Who never sinned or smiled;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">This Presence in an infant's face;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">This sadness most like love,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">This love than love more deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">This weakness like omnipotence<br /></span> +<span class="i6">It is so strong to move.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Awful is this watching place,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Awful what I see from hence—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">A king, without regalia,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">A God, without the thunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">A child, without the heart for play;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ay, a Creator, rent asunder<br /></span> +<span class="i6">From His first glory and cast away<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On His own world, for me alone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hold in hands created, crying—<span class="smcap">Son</span>!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">That tear fell not on Thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beloved, yet thou stirrest in thy slumber!<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Thou</span>, stirring not for glad sounds out of number<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which through the vibratory palm-trees run<br /></span> +<span class="i6">From summer-wind and bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">So quickly hast thou heard<br /></span> +<span class="i6">A tear fall silently?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Wak'st thou, O loving One?—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> It is a Jewish tradition that Moses died of the kisses of God's +lips.</p> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="AN_ISLAND" id="AN_ISLAND"></a><i>AN ISLAND.</i></h2> + +<p class="center small">All goeth but Goddis will.—<span class="smcap">Old Poet.</span></p> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">My dream is of an island-place<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which distant seas keep lonely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little island on whose face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stars are watchers only:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those bright still stars! they need not seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brighter or stiller in my dream.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">An island full of hills and dells,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All rumpled and uneven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With green recesses, sudden swells,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And odorous valleys driven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So deep and straight that always there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind is cradled to soft air.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Hills running up to heaven for light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through woods that half-way ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if the wild earth mimicked right<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wilder heart of man:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only it shall be greener far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gladder than hearts ever are.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">More like, perhaps, that mountain piece<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Dante's paradise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disrupt to an hundred hills like these,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In falling from the skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bringing within it, all the roots<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of heavenly trees and flowers and fruits:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">For—saving where the grey rocks strike<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their javelins up the azure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where deep fissures miser-like<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hoard up some fountain treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(And e'en in them, stoop down and hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaf sounds with water in your ear,—)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">The place is all awave with trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Limes, myrtles purple-beaded,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Acacias having drunk the lees<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the night-dew, faint-headed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wan grey olive-woods which seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fittest foliage for a dream.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Trees, trees on all sides! they combine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their plumy shades to throw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through whose clear fruit and blossom fine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whene'er the sun may go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ground beneath he deeply stains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As passing through cathedral panes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">But little needs this earth of ours<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That shining from above her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When many Pleiades of flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Not one lost) star her over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rays of their unnumbered hues<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Being all refracted by the dews.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Wide-petalled plants that boldly drink<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Amreeta of the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shut bells that dull with rapture sink,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lolling buds, half shy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot count them, but between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is room for grass and mosses green,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">And brooks, that glass in different strengths<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All colours in disorder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, gathering up their silver lengths<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beside their winding border,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep, haunted through the slumber hidden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By lilies white as dreams in Eden.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Nor think each archèd tree with each<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too closely interlaces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To admit of vistas out of reach,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And broad moon-lighted places<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon whose sward the antlered deer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May view their double image clear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">For all this island's creature-full,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Kept happy not by halves)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mild cows, that at the vine-wreaths pull,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then low back at their calves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tender lowings, to approve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The warm mouths milking them for love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Free gamesome horses, antelopes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And harmless leaping leopards,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And buffaloes upon the slopes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sheep unruled by shepherds:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hares, lizards, hedgehogs, badgers, mice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snakes, squirrels, frogs, and butterflies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">And birds that live there in a crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Horned owls, rapt nightingales,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Larks bold with heaven, and peacocks proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Self-sphered in those grand tails;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All creatures glad and safe, I deem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No guns nor springes in my dream!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">The island's edges are a-wing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With trees that overbranch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea with song-birds welcoming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The curlews to green change;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And doves from half-closed lids espy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The red and purple fish go by.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">One dove is answering in trust<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The water every minute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking so soft a murmur must<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have her mate's cooing in it:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So softly doth earth's beauty round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Infuse itself in ocean's sound.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">My sanguine soul bounds forwarder<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To meet the bounding waves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside them straightway I repair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To live within the caves:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And near me two or three may dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom dreams fantastic please as well.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Long winding caverns, glittering far<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into a crystal distance!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through clefts of which shall many a star<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shine clear without resistance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And carry down its rays the smell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of flowers above invisible.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">I said that two or three might choose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their dwelling near mine own:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those who would change man's voice and use,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Nature's way and tone—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man's veering heart and careless eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Nature's steadfast sympathies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Ourselves, to meet her faithfulness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall play a faithful part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her beautiful shall ne'er address<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The monstrous at our heart:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her musical shall ever touch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something within us also such.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Yet shall she not our mistress live,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As doth the moon of ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though gently as the moon she give<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our thoughts a light and motion:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More like a harp of many lays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moving its master while he plays.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">No sod in all that island doth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yawn open for the dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wind hath borne a traitor's oath;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No earth, a mourner's tread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We cannot say by stream or shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I suffered <i>here</i>,—was <i>here</i> betrayed."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Our only "farewell" we shall laugh<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To shifting cloud or hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And use our only epitaph<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To some bud turned a flower:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our only tears shall serve to prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Excess in pleasure or in love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Our fancies shall their plumage catch<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From fairest island-birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose eggs let young ones out at hatch,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Born singing! then our words<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unconsciously shall take the dyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those prodigious fantasies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Yea, soon, no consonant unsmooth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our smile-tuned lips shall reach;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounds sweet as Hellas spake in youth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall glide into our speech:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(What music, certes, can you find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As soft as voices which are kind?)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">And often, by the joy without<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in us, overcome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We, through our musing, shall let float<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such poems,—sitting dumb,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Pindar might have writ if he<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had tended sheep in Arcady;<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Or Æschylus—the pleasant fields<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He died in, longer knowing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Homer, had men's sins and shields<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Been lost in Meles flowing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Poet Plato, had the undim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unsetting Godlight broke on him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXVIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Choose me the cave most worthy choice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make a place for prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will choose a praying voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To pour our spirits there:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How silverly the echoes run!<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Thy will be done,—thy will be done.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXIX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Gently yet strangely uttered words!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They lift me from my dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The island fadeth with its swards<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That did no more than seem:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The streams are dry, no sun could find—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fruits are fallen, without wind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XXX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">So oft the doing of God's will<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our foolish wills undoeth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet what idle dream breaks ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which morning-light subdueth?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who would murmur and misdoubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When God's great sunrise finds him out?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="THE_SOULS_TRAVELLING" id="THE_SOULS_TRAVELLING"></a><i>THE SOUL'S TRAVELLING.</i></h2> + +<div class="poem small"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Ἤδη νοεροὺς<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Πέτασαι ταρσούσ.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style="margin-left: 50%;"><span class="smcap">Synesius.</span></p> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dwell amid the city ever.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The great humanity which beats<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its life along the stony streets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a strong and unsunned river<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a self-made course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sit and hearken while it rolls.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Very sad and very hoarse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Certes is the flow of souls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Infinitest tendencies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the finite prest and pent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the finite, turbulent:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How we tremble in surprise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When sometimes, with an awful sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's great plummet strikes the ground!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The champ of the steeds on the silver bit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they whirl the rich man's carriage by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beggar's whine as he looks at it,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it goes too fast for charity;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trail on the street of the poor man's broom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the lady who walks to her palace-home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On her silken skirt may catch no dust;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tread of the business-men who must<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Count their per-cents by the paces they take;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cry of the babe unheard of its mother<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though it lie on her breast, while she thinks of the other<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laid yesterday where it will not wake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Held out in the smoke, like stars by day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gin-door's oath that hollowly chinks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guilt upon grief and wrong upon hate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cabman's cry to get out of the way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dustman's call down the area-grate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young maid's jest, and the old wife's scold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The haggling talk of the boys at a stall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fight in the street which is backed for gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The plea of the lawyers in Westminster Hall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The drop on the stones of the blind man's staff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he trades in his own grief's sacredness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brothel shriek, and the Newgate laugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hum upon 'Change, and the organ's grinding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(The grinder's face being nevertheless<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dry and vacant of even woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the children's hearts are leaping so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the merry music's winding;)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The black-plumed funeral's creeping train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long and slow (and yet they will go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fast as Life though it hurry and strain!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Creeping the populous houses through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nodding their plumes at either side,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At many a house, where an infant, new<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the sunshiny world, has just struggled and cried,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At many a house where sitteth a bride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trying to-morrow's coronals<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a scarlet blush to-day:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Slowly creep the funerals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As none should hear the noise and say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The living, the living must go away<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To multiply the dead."<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hark! an upward shout is sent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In grave strong joy from tower to steeple<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The bells ring out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trumpets sound, the people shout,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young queen goes to her Parliament.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She turneth round her large blue eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More bright with childish memories<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than royal hopes, upon the people;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On either side she bows her head<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lowly, with a queenly grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smile most trusting-innocent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if she smiled upon her mother;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thousands press before each other<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To bless her to her face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And booms the deep majestic voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through trump and drum,—"May the queen rejoice<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the people's liberties!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">I dwell amid the city,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And hear the flow of souls in act and speech,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For pomp or trade, for merrymake or folly:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear the confluence and sum of each,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And that is melancholy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy voice is a complaint, O crownèd city,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blue sky covering thee like God's great pity.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O blue sky! it mindeth me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of places where I used to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its vast unbroken circle thrown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the far pale-peakèd hill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out to the last verge of ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As by God's arm it were done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then for the first time, with the emotion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that first impulse on it still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, we spirits fly at will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faster than the wingèd steed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereof in old book we read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the sunlight foaming back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his flanks to a misty wrack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his nostril reddening proud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he breasteth the steep thundercloud,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smoother than Sabrina's chair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gliding up from wave to air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While she smileth debonair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet holy, coldly and yet brightly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like her own mooned waters nightly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through her dripping hair.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Very fast and smooth we fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spirits, though the flesh be by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All looks feed not from the eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor all hearings from the ear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We can hearken and espy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without either, we can journey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bold and gay as knight to tourney,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, though we wear no visor down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dark our countenance, the foe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall never chafe us as we go.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am gone from peopled town!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It passeth its street-thunder round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My body which yet hears no sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For now another sound, another<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vision, my soul's senses have—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er a hundred valleys deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the hills' green shadows sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce known because the valley-trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cross those upland images,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er a hundred hills each other<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watching to the western wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have travelled,—I have found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silent, lone, remembered ground.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have found a grassy niche<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hollowed in a seaside hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if the ocean-grandeur which<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is aspectable from the place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had struck the hill as with a mace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sudden and cleaving. You might fill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That little nook with the little cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which sometimes lieth by the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To beautify a night of June;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cavelike nook which, opening all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the wide sea, is disallowed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From its own earth's sweet pastoral:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cavelike, but roofless overhead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made of verdant banks instead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of any rocks, with flowerets spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instead of spar and stalactite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cowslips and daisies gold and white:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such pretty flowers on such green sward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You think the sea they look toward<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth serve them for another sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As warm and blue as that on high.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And in this hollow is a seat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when you shall have crept to it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slipping down the banks too steep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be o'erbrowzèd by the sheep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not think—though at your feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cliffs disrupt—you shall behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The line where earth and ocean meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You sit too much above to view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The solemn confluence of the two:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You can hear them as they greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You can hear that evermore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Distance-softened noise more old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than Nereid's singing, the tide spent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joining soft issues with the shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In harmony of discontent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when you hearken to the grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lamenting of the underwave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You must believe in earth's communion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Albeit you witness not the union.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Except that sound, the place is full<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of silences, which when you cull<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By any word, it thrills you so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That presently you let them grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meditation's fullest length<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across your soul with a soul's strength:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as they touch your soul, they borrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both of its grandeur and its sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That deathly odour which the clay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaves on its deathlessness alwày.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">X.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alway! alway? must this be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rapid Soul from city gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost thou carry inwardly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What doth make the city's moan?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must this deep sigh of thine own<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunt thee with humanity?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green visioned banks that are too steep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be o'erbrowzèd by the sheep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May all sad thoughts adown you creep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without a shepherd? Mighty sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can we dwarf thy magnitude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fit it to our straitest mood?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O fair, fair Nature, are we thus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Impotent and querulous<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among thy workings glorious,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wealth and sanctities, that still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave us vacant and defiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wailing like a soft-kissed child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kissed soft against his will?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">God, God!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">With a child's voice I cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Weak, sad, confidingly—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">God, God!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou knowest, eyelids, raised not always up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto Thy love, (as none of ours are) droop<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As ours, o'er many a tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou knowest, though Thy universe is broad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two little tears suffice to cover all:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou knowest, Thou who art so prodigal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of beauty, we are oft but stricken deer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expiring in the woods, that care for none<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those delightsome flowers they die upon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">XII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O blissful Mouth which breathed the mournful breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We name our souls, self-spoilt!—by that strong passion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which paled Thee once with sighs, by that strong death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which made Thee once unbreathing—from the wrack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Themselves have called around them, call them back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back to Thee in continuous aspiration!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For here, O Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For here they travel vainly, vainly pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From city-pavement to untrodden sward<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the lark finds her deep nest in the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cold with the earth's last dew. Yea, very vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The greatest speed of all these souls of men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless they travel upward to the throne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sittest <span class="smcap">Thou</span> the satisfying <span class="smcap">One</span>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With help for sins and holy perfectings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all requirements: while the archangel, raising<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto Thy face his full ecstatic gazing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgets the rush and rapture of his wings.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="TO_BETTINE" id="TO_BETTINE"></a><i>TO BETTINE,</i></h2> + +<h3>THE CHILD-FRIEND OF GOETHE.</h3> + +<p class="center small">"I have the second sight, Goethe!"—<i>Letters of a Child.</i></p> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Bettine, friend of Goethe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Hadst</i> thou the second sight—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upturning worship and delight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With such a loving duty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his grand face, as women will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The childhood 'neath thine eyelids still?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">—Before his shrine to doom thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Using the same child's smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heaven and earth, beheld erewhile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the first time, won from thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere star and flower grew dim and dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save at his feet and o'er his head?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">—Digging thine heart and throwing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away its childhood's gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That so its woman-depth might hold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His spirit's overflowing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(For surging souls, no worlds can bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their channel in the heart have found.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O child, to change appointed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hadst not second sight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What eyes the future view aright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unless by tears anointed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, only tears themselves can show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burning ones that have to flow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O woman, deeply loving,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hadst not second sight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The star is very high and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And none can see it moving.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love looks around, below, above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet all his prophecy is—love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The bird thy childhood's playing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sent onward o'er the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy dove of hope came back to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without a leaf: art laying<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its wet cold wing no sun can dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still in thy bosom secretly?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Our Goethe's friend, Bettine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have the second sight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stone upon his grave is white,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The funeral stone between ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in thy mirror thou hast viewed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some change as hardly understood.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Where's childhood? where is Goethe?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tears are in thine eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, thou shalt yet reorganize<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy maidenhood of beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his own glory, which is smooth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wrinkles and sublime in youth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The poet's arms have wound thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He breathes upon thy brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lifts thee upward in the glow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of his great genius round thee,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The childlike poet undefiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Preserving evermore <span class="smcap">The Child</span>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="MAN_AND_NATURE" id="MAN_AND_NATURE"></a><i>MAN AND NATURE.</i></h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A sad man on a summer day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did look upon the earth and say—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Purple cloud the hill-top binding;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Folded hills the valleys wind in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Valleys with fresh streams among you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Streams with bosky trees along you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trees with many birds and blossoms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Birds with music-trembling bosoms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blossoms dropping dews that wreathe you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To your fellow flowers beneath you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowers that constellate on earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth that shakest to the mirth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the merry Titan Ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All his shining hair in motion!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why am I thus the only one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who can be dark beneath the sun?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But when the summer day was past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He looked to heaven and smiled at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Self-answered so—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">"Because, O cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pressing with thy crumpled shroud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heavily on mountain top,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hills that almost seem to drop<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stricken with a misty death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the valleys underneath,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Valleys sighing with the torrent,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waters streaked with branches horrent,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Branchless trees that shake your head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wildly o'er your blossoms spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the common flowers are found,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowers with foreheads to the ground,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ground that shriekest while the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his iron smiteth thee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am, besides, the only one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who can be bright <i>without</i> the sun."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="A_SEA-SIDE_WALK" id="A_SEA-SIDE_WALK"></a><i>A SEA-SIDE WALK.</i></h2> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">We walked beside the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After a day which perished silently<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of its own glory—like the princess weird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, combating the Genius, scorched and seared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uttered with burning breath, "Ho! victory!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sank adown, a heap of ashes pale:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">So runs the Arab tale.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">The sky above us showed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A universal and unmoving cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which the cliffs permitted us to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the outline of their majesty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As master-minds when gazed at by the crowd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shining with a gloom, the water grey<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Swang in its moon-taught way.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Nor moon, nor stars were out;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They did not dare to tread so soon about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though trembling, in the footsteps of the sun:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light was neither night's nor day's, but one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, life-like, had a beauty in its doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And silence's impassioned breathings round<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Seemed wandering into sound.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">O solemn-beating heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of nature! I have knowledge that thou art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound unto man's by cords he cannot sever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, what time they are slackened by him ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So to attest his own supernal part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still runneth thy vibration fast and strong<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The slackened cord along:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">For though we never spoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the grey water and the shaded rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark wave and stone unconsciously were fused<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the plaintive speaking that we used<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of absent friends and memories unforsook;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, had we seen each other's face, we had<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Seen haply each was sad.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="THE_SEA-MEW" id="THE_SEA-MEW"></a><i>THE SEA-MEW.</i></h2> + +<h3>AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO M. E. H.</h3> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">How joyously the young sea-mew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay dreaming on the waters blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereon our little bark had thrown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little shade, the only one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But shadows ever man pursue.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Familiar with the waves and free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if their own white foam were he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His heart upon the heart of ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay learning all its mystic motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And throbbing to the throbbing sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">And such a brightness in his eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if the ocean and the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within him had lit up and nurst<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A soul God gave him not at first,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To comprehend their majesty.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">We were not cruel, yet did sunder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His white wing from the blue waves under,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bound it, while his fearless eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone up to ours in calm surprise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As deeming us some ocean wonder.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">We bore our ocean bird unto<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A grassy place where he might view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flowers that curtsey to the bees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waving of the tall green trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The falling of the silver dew.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">But flowers of earth were pale to him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who had seen the rainbow fishes swim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when earth's dew around him lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thought of ocean's wingèd spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his eye waxèd sad and dim.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">The green trees round him only made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A prison with their darksome shade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drooped his wing, and mournèd he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his own boundless glittering sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Albeit he knew not they could fade.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">Then One her gladsome face did bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her gentle voice's murmuring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In ocean's stead his heart to move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And teach him what was human love:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thought it a strange, mournful thing.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzanarrow"> +<span class="i0">He lay down in his grief to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(First looking to the sea-like sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hath no waves) because, alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our human touch did on him pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, with our touch, our agony.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="FELICIA_HEMANS" id="FELICIA_HEMANS"></a><i>FELICIA HEMANS</i></h2> + +<h3>TO L. E. L.,</h3> + +<h3>REFERRING TO HER MONODY ON THE POETESS.</h3> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Thou bay-crowned living One that o'er the bay-crowned Dead art bowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the shadeless moveless brow the vital shadow throwing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the sighless songless lips the wail and music wedding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dropping o'er the tranquil eyes the tears not of their shedding!—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Take music from the silent Dead whose meaning is completer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reserve thy tears for living brows where all such tears are meeter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave the violets in the grass to brighten where thou treadest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No flowers for her! no need of flowers, albeit "bring flowers!" thou saidest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Yes, flowers, to crown the "cup and lute," since both may come to breaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or flowers, to greet the "bride"—the heart's own beating works its aching;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or flowers, to soothe the "captive's" sight, from earth's free bosom gathered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reminding of his earthly hope, then withering as it withered:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">But bring not near the solemn corse a type of human seeming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay only dust's stern verity upon the dust undreaming:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while the calm perpetual stars shall look upon it solely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her spherèd soul shall look on <i>them</i> with eyes more bright and holy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Nor mourn, O living One, because her part in life was mourning:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would she have lost the poet's fire for anguish of the burning?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The minstrel harp, for the strained string? the tripod, for the afflated<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woe? or the vision, for those tears in which it shone dilated?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Perhaps she shuddered while the world's cold hand her brow was wreathing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never wronged that mystic breath which breathed in all her breathing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which drew, from rocky earth and man, abstractions high and moving,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty, if not the beautiful, and love, if not the loving.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Such visionings have paled in sight; the Saviour she descrieth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And little recks <i>who</i> wreathed the brow which on His bosom lieth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The whiteness of His innocence o'er all her garments, flowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There learneth she the sweet "new song" she will not mourn in knowing.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">Be happy, crowned and living One! and as thy dust decayeth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May thine own England say for thee what now for Her it sayeth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Albeit softly in our ears her silver song was ringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The foot-fall of her parting soul is softer than her singing."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap4"><a name="L_E_LS_LAST_QUESTION" id="L_E_LS_LAST_QUESTION"></a><i>L. E. L.'S LAST QUESTION.</i></h2> + +<p class="center">"Do you think of me as I think of you?"</p> +<p class="center">(<i>From her poem written during the voyage to the Cape.</i>)</p> + + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Do you think of me as I think of you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My friends, my friends?"—She said it from the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The English minstrel in her minstrelsy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, under brighter skies than erst she knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heart grew dark, and groped there as the blind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To reach across the waves friends left behind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Do you think of me as I think of you?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It seemed not much to ask—"as <i>I</i> of <i>you</i>?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We all do ask the same; no eyelids cover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the meekest eyes that question over:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And little in the world the Loving do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sit (among the rocks?) and listen for<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The echo of their own love evermore—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Do you think of me as I think of you?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love-learnèd she had sung of love and love,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like a child that, sleeping with dropt head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the fairy-book he lately read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever household noises round him move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hears in his dream some elfin turbulence,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even so suggestive to her inward sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All sounds of life assumed one tune of love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when the glory of her dream withdrew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When knightly gestes and courtly pageantries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were broken in her visionary eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By tears the solemn seas attested true,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgetting that sweet lute beside her hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She asked not,—"Do you praise me, O my land?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But,—"Think ye of me, friends, as I of you?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hers was the hand that played for many a year<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's silver phrase for England, smooth and well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would God her heart's more inward oracle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that lone moment might confirm her dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when her questioned friends in agony<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made passionate response, "We think of thee,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her place was in the dust, too deep to hear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Could she not wait to catch their answering breath?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was she content, content with ocean's sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which dashed its mocking infinite around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One thirsty for a little love?—beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those stars content, where last her song had gone,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They mute and cold in radiant life, as soon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their singer was to be, in darksome death?<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bring your vain answers—cry, "We think of thee!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How think ye of her? warm in long ago<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delights? or crowned with budding bays? Not so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None smile and none are crowned where lieth she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all her visions unfulfilled save one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her childhood's, of the palm-trees in the sun—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lo! their shadow on her sepulchre!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VIII.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Do ye think of me as I think of you?"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O friends, O kindred, O dear brotherhood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the world! what are we that we should<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For covenants of long affection sue?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why press so near each other when the touch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is barred by graves? Not much, and yet too much<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is this "Think of me as I think of you."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IX.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But while on mortal lips I shape anew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sigh to mortal issues, verily<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the unshaken stars that see us die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A vocal pathos rolls; and <span class="smcap">He</span> who drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All life from dust, and for all tasted death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By death and life and love appealing, saith<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Do you think of me as I think of you?</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Her lyric on the Polar Star came home with her latest papers.</p> +</div></div> + + +<p class="center gap4">END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.</p> + + +<p class="center gap4">PRINTED BY</p> +<p class="center">SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE</p> +<p class="center">LONDON</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><em>Transcriber's Notes</em>: Archaic and variable spelling and hyphenation are +preserved. A very few minor printer's errors have been corrected. In +"The Romaunt of the Page," single quotation and double quotation marks +have been preserved as printed, in spite of their confusing usage; no +clearer edition could be found.</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poetical Works of Elizabeth +Barrett Browning, by Elizabeth Barrett Browning + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETICAL WORKS OF E. B. 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