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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 Deluge and Other Poems + +Author: John Presland + +Release Date: October 13, 2011 [EBook #37751] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DELUGE AND OTHER POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t1"> +THE DELUGE +</P> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +AND OTHER POEMS +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +BY +</P> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +JOHN PRESLAND +</P> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +AUTHOR OF "MANIN AND THE DEFENCE OF VENICE"<BR> +"MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS," ETC.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +LONDON +<BR> +CHATTO & WINDUS +<BR> +1911 +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +<I>All rights reserved</I> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +CONTENTS +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#p1">The Deluge</A><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +Sonnets—<BR> + <A HREF="#p26">To J. F. W.</A><BR> + <A HREF="#p27">To Andrew Chatto</A><BR> + <A HREF="#p28">November</A><BR> + <A HREF="#p29">To a Robin in December</A><BR> + <A HREF="#p30">A January Morning</A><BR> + <A HREF="#p31">February</A><BR> + <A HREF="#p32">To April—I</A><BR> + <A HREF="#p33">To April—II</A><BR> + <A HREF="#p34">To Daniel Manin</A><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#p35">To the Leaders of both Parties</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p37">Consolation</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p40">Tapestry</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p43">Wisdom and Youth</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p48">A Villa on the Bay of Naples</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p52">A Song</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p54">The Ballad of a Sea-Nymph</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p58">Chrysanthemums</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p59">A Courtly Madrigal</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p60">In Arcadia</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p62">A Ballad of King Richard</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p75">In the Valley of the Shadow</A><BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p1"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DELUGE +</H3> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +"The Sons of God saw the daughters of men, that they were +fair."—<I>Genesis</I> vi. 2. +</P> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +DRAMATIS PERSONĆ +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 15%"> +<I>The Seeker after Truth</I><BR> +<I>His Wife</I><BR> +<I>His Mother</I><BR> +<I>Chorus</I><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +SCENE I<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +<I>The wife and the mother spinning</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE (<I>sings</I>)<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Love, it is dark among your roses,<BR> +The face of the moon is turned away,<BR> +The nightingale is silent and lonely;<BR> +Lean from your window a little way!—<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Lean but a little way towards me,<BR> +Out of the window where jasmines twine,<BR> +Open the lattice, softly, slowly,<BR> +Till the light of your eyes shall gladden mine.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Love, it is dark among your roses;<BR> +And how, since the nightingales are fled,<BR> +Can I tell your heart how my heart is lowly,<BR> +To touch the ground where your sandals tread?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +This is your garden; these your flowers;<BR> +These stars have seen you; these dews have known;<BR> +And now your eyes and your smile you give me—<BR> +Give me your love, and be all mine own!<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Sing that again, the music soothes my ear.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +My husband made it for me ere we wed,<BR> +And sang it in my garden; I arose<BR> +And leaned down to him, and my fingers gave<BR> +To all his kisses. Ah! those days were sweet.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Not sweet now?<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I am happy in his love<BR> +And thank God for it, nay, propitiate<BR> +With vows and offering; I fear a wrath<BR> +Called down on too great happiness; I fear—<BR> +I know not what—Oh, I possess a gift<BR> +So rare and precious, that, like men who go<BR> +Laden with rubies, I am grown suspect<BR> +Of all the earth and heaven, feel the stars<BR> +Peer covetously on me. Every hour<BR> +That he is from my side a cloud of woe<BR> +Settles upon me like a swarm of bees.<BR> +Ah, is it possible that we can sin<BR> +In happiness, against a jealous God?<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Nay, nay, these foolish thoughts! your wits are strayed<BR> +With too much brooding: let me bind afresh<BR> +The knot of scarlet lilies in your hair;<BR> +They fade already, for the sun is high<BR> +Towards the noon: Ah, child, what waits for you<BR> +But love, and yet more love, and happiness,<BR> +And children of delight, and in old age<BR> +Respect of all the peoples, and at last<BR> +Death in his arms and burial in peace?<BR> +Still do you tremble, what is it you fear?<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Can you not feel a something in the air,<BR> +A warning, or a presence, or the weight<BR> +Of some unguessed-at horror, that, like dust<BR> +Impalpable and deadly, clings and kills?<BR> +There is some terror—'tis my heart that speaks<BR> +And warns me—ah! would God indeed, your son,<BR> +(My love and husband) had another father<BR> +Than that celestial being. This it is<BR> +That puts eternal sadness on his brow,<BR> +And shade within his eyes I cannot lift,<BR> +Even with kisses; 'tis the angel nature<BR> +That makes him sit spell-woven in a trance,<BR> +Chin in his hand, and eyes on vacancy,<BR> +And lips all bare of love, the while his soul<BR> +Struggles against the bonds of finity.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Ah, how you love him!<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + More because of it,<BR> +This kingdom infinite I cannot know<BR> +Though loving him.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Alas! so did I love.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Tell me of love.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Belovéd, what should I tell<BR> +That his lips have not taught you?<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Tell of yours;<BR> +So that I may compare your flowers with mine,<BR> +Your doubts and times of joy, and how arose<BR> +The sudden and sweet passion in your heart;<BR> +Did the world burst forth, like a flower from bud,<BR> +All suddenly in beauty, when you met?<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Ah, how your words have wakened memory,<BR> +And bitter-sweet, like love itself, it is.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The first time that you met?<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Ah, that first time!<BR> +It was a night of gods, a night of love.<BR> +The earth was still beneath a summer sky<BR> +So thickly sown with stars, that it appeared<BR> +A vase of ebon in a silver shroud;<BR> +No breath there stirred, the hot air seemed to hang<BR> +In heavy folds, like silken tapestry,<BR> +Clinging, caressing; all the birds were still,<BR> +No nightingale with her ecstatic pain<BR> +Transfixed the silence; earth was dead asleep,<BR> +Sunk in a scented languor; every flower<BR> +Steamed all its odour forth, as it would pour<BR> +Its soul before the mystery of love.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And I into the night had stolen forth,<BR> +Oppressed, with pain or joy, I knew not which,<BR> +Knew only that the blood throughout my veins<BR> +Did run like liquid fire, head to foot<BR> +I tingled with sensation, all my hair<BR> +Stirred, as with separate life within itself;<BR> +And as I plucked the flowers and wove them in,<BR> +Purple and waxen, languorously sweet,<BR> +They seemed anticipation of a touch<BR> +Should make each thread of hair become a bird,<BR> +Fluttering with outstretched wings. From off my breast<BR> +I flung my garment back; the soft air wooed<BR> +Like sleepy lips ere love is yet awake.<BR> +Then, as I lingered in the dusky depths,<BR> +All flower-shadowed, blacker than the night,<BR> +Blacker than shadows cast by palace walls<BR> +Upon a moonlit night, there, in that web<BR> +Of close-knit darkness, suddenly there came<BR> +The wonder unto me, the god, my love—<BR> +Within mine ears there was a silver silence,<BR> +And in my heart a golden burst of song,<BR> +The darkness burned around me, with a light<BR> +Born from the other worlds, and there he stood,<BR> +Radiant, godlike, purple were his wings<BR> +And splashed with fire, purply-black his hair<BR> +And crowned with stars for flowers; in his eyes<BR> +My soul sank into passion and was drowned.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +CHORUS<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Oh, what a pair of birds,<BR> +Hidden among the leaves!<BR> +He a god and she a maid,<BR> +Deathless lips on mortal laid;<BR> +(Nothing death retrieves.)<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +There a son of God<BR> +And child of mortal seed<BR> +Met and kissed as love with love;<BR> +Oh the leaves were thick above,<BR> +No stars saw the deed.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +No stars, but the eye of God?<BR> +Ah, perchance He saw<BR> +How a god to mortal prayed<BR> +And the fatal compact made<BR> +'Gainst eternal law.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Veiled and still the night.<BR> +So, a fount of tears<BR> +Springs at first unseen, unguessed,<BR> +Till at last the flood confessed<BR> +Gushes down the years.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Son of a son of God<BR> +And the daughter of men too frail!<BR> +Union of the nature's twain?<BR> +Only sorrow and want and pain,<BR> +Striving without avail;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Desire for wings of a god<BR> +Tied to the will of a man;<BR> +Memory of a boundless space,<BR> +(Where stars and spheres their dance enlace)<BR> +With the threescore human span<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Hung like a bridge, in the gulf<BR> +Of God's eternity.<BR> +Oh a mind to know and a heart to crave<BR> +Beyond the horizon of the grave<BR> +To the bounds of infinity!<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Yet ever Fate compels<BR> +This infinite desire<BR> +To match with cramped and finite brain;<BR> +And all of heaven earth may gain<BR> +Is smoke, where should be fire.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +SCENE II<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE SEEKER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The air is heavy, all the winds are still<BR> +So that my own breath hangs about my head<BR> +Like incense o'er an altar. Now the earth<BR> +Lies in a swoon, and all the flowers droop<BR> +Weighting their stems, ranged in their brazen pots<BR> +Without the house: the very petals lie<BR> +Like languid limbs relaxed; this crimson rose<BR> +Looks as if blood-steeped, almost to my sense<BR> +Smells of the same, the lilies are like death.<BR> +There is a taint of sickness in the air<BR> +Through all the noonday light—like fever chill<BR> +In fever burning,—and the sky is brass;<BR> +The very tinkle of the fountain spray<BR> +Is dead and tuneless, even the fresh springs<BR> +Have lost their freshness, run from off my hands<BR> +In drops of lead, and all my spirit seems<BR> +Weighed and confined with fetters of decay.<BR> +Because I have loved beauty more than most<BR> +And striven to pluck out the heart of it;<BR> +Because I have such sense of lovely things<BR> +That I can pour my soul in thankfulness<BR> +Before a leaf God makes to grow aright,<BR> +A unit of perfection; 'tis ordained<BR> +Because I love most still I most must lack<BR> +Love's satisfaction, quietude of soul—<BR> +Still must I find such void disparity<BR> +Between the false and true, and yet they grow<BR> +Together, intermingled; true is false<BR> +Itself, by sometime seeming, who shall find<BR> +The point where false and true are reconciled?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The very flower that we stoop to smell<BR> +Grows from a dunghill, look but in its roots,<BR> +And what obscene and hideous blind life<BR> +Goes teeming; sickened then we shrink aback<BR> +From rose's velvet petals. So the soul<BR> +Holds best and meanest in a common cup.<BR> +Yet must there be a law in things that are<BR> +Seemingly lawless, purify the sight<BR> +And truth must surely then be visible,<BR> +Disparity made clear; the eye of God<BR> +Sees good in everything, thereto I strive,<BR> +To see with God's own vision, be more clear<BR> +In speech, than God, to asking human hearts.<BR> +Then is the tangle straightened, and the world<BR> +Lies in perspective, as before me lie,<BR> +Traced through the shimmering heat, the palaces,<BR> +Towers and temples, gardens and granaries,<BR> +Of this fair City, melting far away<BR> +Into the sunlight-flooded hills at last.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Yet must I sit here for a little while,<BR> +Where many columns make a heavy gloom,<BR> +And with the trickle from the water-jars<BR> +Of unfresh water, cheat myself awhile<BR> +With thought of evening freshness. Oh my soul<BR> +Is wearier than my body with the toil,<BR> +It aches with length of watching. I have strained<BR> +My spiritual eyes to catch a glimpse of dawn<BR> +And nothing seen but blackness. Let me rest<BR> +As rest the quiet dead from doubt and toil;<BR> +Like silver feathers from the wings of God<BR> +Sleep fans my senses——<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + [<I>He sleeps.</I><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE CHORUS<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Sleep, and forget, forget the aching toil,<BR> +The disappointments, and the long delays,<BR> +The watches of the night-time and the morn,<BR> +The lonely hours, unrewarded days;<BR> +Sleep, and forget.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In death we all are equal, great and small<BR> +Brought to the common level of the dust;<BR> +There is no glory that survives the years,<BR> +Nay, nay, alike we shall be as we must;<BR> +Sleep and forget.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In sleep we are omnipotent as gods,<BR> +Beyond our furthest wish we can attain,<BR> +Unfettered by the chain of circumstance;<BR> +Sleep then; or waking, turn and pray again<BR> +A little more to sleep and to forget.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +SCENE III<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +<I>Enter the</I> MOTHER <I>to the</I> WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Ah me, your fears have settled on my heart;<BR> +I fear the very day, there is a strange<BR> +Portentous look o'er all the earth, my hand<BR> +Stretched in the sunlight seems to throw no shade<BR> +As if the natural laws had all stood still—<BR> +I breathe as in a nightmare, breath oppressed;<BR> +I start at every sound, but fear no sound<BR> +So much as stillness, which descends on us<BR> +Like a great mantle choking out our hearts.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Give me your hand, what is it makes you fear<BR> +And shiver like plane trees before the rain?<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +As I lay in the shadow of the court<BR> +During the noonday fierceness, watched the rays<BR> +Chequered between the lattice window work,<BR> +And listened to the fountain in the grove<BR> +Of orange trees go singing to itself—<BR> +Behold, all suddenly before me stood<BR> +My lover-god, the angel ever dear,<BR> +And radiant as that first night years ago,<BR> +There stood he; where the marble touched his feet<BR> +It glowed translucent like a sunlit gem,<BR> +The perfume of his hair had made me swoon<BR> +Had not his eyes compelled me. Grave he looked,<BR> +Where gravity in such a beauteous thing<BR> +Could find occasion, and his voice was low<BR> +And troubled, warning me. "Let not your son<BR> +Tempt God too far, He will not brook affront<BR> +Though son of mine should dare it; be assured<BR> +The secret of this riddle universe<BR> +Shall ne'er be known on earth, man was not made<BR> +For too much knowledge, mankind ceases then<BR> +When man too much aspires. Speak to him<BR> +Lest he should bring destruction on your head<BR> +And on the world." Thus spoke he, nothing more,<BR> +And ere my eyes could hold him he was gone.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Ah, let us go in to my husband then<BR> +And warn him quickly.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + I have warned, alas!<BR> +And he has heard with the unheeding smile<BR> +One gives to children's prattle. "Now at last<BR> +The hours bear fruit, and shall I hold my hand,"<BR> +He answered, "for your vision? I have waited,<BR> +Now is the time when hope is justified;<BR> +Truth dawns, not even God Himself can stand<BR> +Between the light and me and shadow it."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Ah God! ah God! to whom shall be appeal?<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Look where he comes.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + With what an air fulfilled.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +<I>Enter the</I> SEEKER AFTER TRUTH, <I>inspired</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE SEEKER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now do I stand upon the very brink<BR> +Of my desire; as a soul released<BR> +And purified by passing through the rays<BR> +Of white Eternity, I view the world.<BR> +Now am I all at peace; the heart that yearns<BR> +In bitter loneliness through midnight hours<BR> +Yet cannot voice its longing, brain that weaves<BR> +Its subtle web around the central thought<BR> +Yet never can absorb it; and this form,<BR> +The visible pride of body, all complete<BR> +Are one in union; the body knows<BR> +Its uses and its worths and has no fear,<BR> +The heart no more is empty, I have found<BR> +Eternal love to fill it, and no more<BR> +Gropes the blind brain for the Great Definite.<BR> +Away from me, my people, lest the sight<BR> +Of loving faces blunt the senses keen,<BR> +Hovering on the pain of a new birth.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +My son, my son, it is not well to tempt<BR> +The thunders of Jehovah; He who placed<BR> +Man on this earth, and gave him such a form<BR> +And such a nature never did intend<BR> +The form or nature to be changed.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE SEEKER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Enough,<BR> +Is it not parcel of the nobleness<BR> +Of His conception thus to place us here<BR> +Low in the scale; that we, by effort's worth,<BR> +May reach to Him and equal Him at last?<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Oh man was born for failure, not success,<BR> +To strive and strive, and evermore to fail,<BR> +And failing still strive ever; therein lies<BR> +The nobleness that equals him to God<BR> +Though linked to insufficient means for God.<BR> +Why will you hope to change appointed fate?<BR> +While still in man the sad twi-nature dwells,<BR> +Godhead and manhood, still as dark and light<BR> +The eternal war goes on. It is our lot,<BR> +Accept it, spare us last catastrophe.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Alas! alas! you see he marks you not,<BR> +His eyes are fixed on distance, and his lips<BR> +Move to the cadence of a song or prayer,<BR> +I know not which; and ever and anon,<BR> +His forehead, vivid with the teeming brain,<BR> +Rests in his hollow hand. He marks you not;<BR> +No more than raindrops plashing on a roof,<BR> +Whereto perhaps one listens for a space<BR> +And says "It raineth"—then again to sleep.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Speak you to him, if he may hear his wife!<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Ah me, my lord, what is it I can say<BR> +That will excuse the saying? Words are few<BR> +When hearts are fullest. On my wedding night—<BR> +Do you remember?—you did take my hand,<BR> +(As I take yours now) lay your lips on it,<BR> +(See, here I lay my lips) and all the love<BR> +Your heart would fain express and tongue could not<BR> +I read in eyes and kisses, being well skilled<BR> +In love's translation.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE SEEKER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Who is this that speaks?<BR> +Your words come through my musing, like the call<BR> +Of quails across the desert, troubling me<BR> +With a strange stirring of the peaceful heart.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +It was my soul and not my words that called.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE SEEKER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +My hand is wet with tears.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + They are my prayers.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE SEEKER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Why do you weep when all the world should be<BR> +Poised on the outspread wings of happiness?<BR> +Ah! just a little moment loose your hold,<BR> +While strips my soul for last and fiercest struggle<BR> +That gives us victory.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Nay cease, ah cease.<BR> +Why must you venture to the wrath of God<BR> +For a mere idle fancy? Is not love,<BR> +My love, and youth and joy enough for you?<BR> +Roses are beautiful to bind one's brow,<BR> +Why must one grasp at stars? Ah, if my tears,<BR> +Barren as dew that falls upon the sand,<BR> +Cannot incline you to forgetfulness<BR> +Of all save love, you are inexorable,<BR> +You love me not.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE SEEKER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + I make an end of tears.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Nay, rather tears enough to drown the world<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Again, he lapses in his trance.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Ah me,<BR> +I can no more, we wait on God's event.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE SEEKER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +There have been summer nights so exquisite<BR> +The soul in me did pant with pain,<BR> +And with its efforts vain<BR> +To grasp the beauty of the infinite;<BR> +When 'twixt my senses and the silent stars<BR> +The world of forms was purged away,<BR> +And all creation lay<BR> +Intense, eternal, without bounds or bars;<BR> +And all my yearning soul<BR> +Reached up to, strove for, failed to grasp that Whole.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Ye who have felt the ache<BR> +Of visible beauty burning through your brain,<BR> +And vainly tried to break<BR> +Through forms of beauty, Beauty to attain;<BR> +Ye who have felt the weight<BR> +Of much desire in a little space;<BR> +God in your narrow brain, and in the face<BR> +Of mortals the large lineaments of Fate;<BR> +Ye who have felt the pang,<BR> +Even in love's most full communion<BR> +Of the soul's loneliness, which may not hang<BR> +For all its love, another soul upon;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Draw near, draw near to me now, ye who long<BR> +Above the common things,<BR> +For truth approaches us on flaming wings<BR> +And all life's tangle shall be straightened now,<BR> +And right shall rise triumphant over wrong,<BR> +And nought be great or little, weak or strong,<BR> +But all Creation share in knowledge vast<BR> +As in design; with neither first nor last.<BR> +A moment let the waiting heart be dumb,<BR> +Last silence ere the revelation come—<BR> +The truth! the truth!<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + [<I>He is struck dead.</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Alas! the Wrath of God<BR> +Flashing upon us from the angry skies,<BR> +Ah woe! this is destruction.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Let it be,<BR> +Since low he lies, struck by a meteor,<BR> +With truth upon his lips.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE MOTHER<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + No meteor that;<BR> +His father, my god-lover, struck him down.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE WIFE<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Since end must be what matter how it come?<BR> +Here will I sit, his head upon my breast,<BR> +Where it has lain in sleep, my arms about<BR> +His kingly body, sit, and wait the end,<BR> +Mocking at God.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +THE CHORUS<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Alas! alas! alas!<BR> +The skies are torn, the heavens crash,<BR> +From pole to pole in terror rending,<BR> +Mountains against mountains dash,<BR> +The blinding lightnings blaze and flash,<BR> +And are shaken the foundations<BR> +Of the earth, for earth is ending.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Black the air and black the waters,<BR> +Lifeless the life-giving sun;<BR> +Woe upon earth's sons and daughters,<BR> +For the Wrath is now begun.<BR> +Ah, too late you clamour wildly,<BR> +Earth is blind, and earth is dumb,<BR> +You by earth and earth by you<BR> +Child and mother are undone;<BR> +Let your cry to God ascend,<BR> +For from God the terrors come.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now the father is destroyer<BR> +And the mother is the grave,<BR> +Woe is us for God forsakes us<BR> +And 'tis God alone can save.<BR> +Oh, a union of destruction<BR> +Sons of God and nature's daughters,<BR> +Seed of terror, seed of evil,<BR> +Nurtured for the hungry waters.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Is there help now? Oh beseeching,<BR> +Raise for help impotent hands.<BR> +While the frenzied winds are roaring,<BR> +Hound-like loosened from their bands,<BR> +And the waters' tumult reaching<BR> +To the stars, where quiet stands<BR> +God contemplative. Destruction,<BR> +'Tis the uttermost destruction he demands!<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now the waters are uprising<BR> +And the mountain summits bend,<BR> +Headlong all the turrets hurling,<BR> +Towers and temples now descend;<BR> +All in black confusion whirling<BR> +Earth and heaven rocking blend,<BR> +In the waters wildly swirling<BR> +To annihilation's end.<BR> +Alas! alas! alas!<BR> +Neither foothold, hand-hold, safety<BR> +For the body nor the soul.<BR> +Cracks the earth, the heavens rend,<BR> +And the waters of despair consuming roll.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p26"></A> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> + SONNETS +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TO J. F. W.<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +We've touched the borderland of death and life<BR> +And come back to the primroses again,<BR> +And see with different eyes the slanting rain<BR> +Buffet the larches in a short-lived strife;<BR> +With different eyes, for we have looked on death,<BR> +And know what life is for; we felt the hand<BR> +Of that sad Lady of the other Land,<BR> +And now, with her released, we draw our breath.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Life is for gladness, not for mulish days<BR> +Between the galling shafts of commonplace.<BR> +See, now, the willow tassels all ablaze<BR> +Against the background of the windy blue!<BR> +And in the dusk the crocus glimmers through<BR> +The footsteps of Persephone we trace.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p27"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TO ANDREW CHATTO<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +It is your thin, ungracious wine that runs<BR> +Within a year of bottling, to your tongue,<BR> +The noblest wine is somewhat harsh when young;<BR> +Lay it aside for many moons and suns,<BR> +Send it, if so you will, its "wander-year,"<BR> +A-battling with the ocean's storm and strife,<BR> +Then open it, when ripe are wine and life,<BR> +And see what mellow sunshine you have there.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Here is another year to crown that head<BR> +So full of years and honour, dear old friend,<BR> +Whose wisdom makes a constant, quiet balm<BR> +For tricks and trials of life, whose age doth blend<BR> +Young-heartedness with philosophic calm,<BR> +And sunshine on this generation shed.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p28"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +NOVEMBER<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +There is a gleam of sunshine on the earth<BR> +After so many weary days of rain,<BR> +A break of yellowing clouds, which offers plain<BR> +The sun's veiled disc (a very shadow-birth,<BR> +But still the sun, with sun's November worth);<BR> +The sky is of a Turner lived again,<BR> +Such colours through the misty greyness gain<BR> +They almost seem to touch with spring the earth.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +How should we not be glad, when this one day<BR> +Out of the saddest of all months, appears<BR> +Suddenly beautiful? A single ray<BR> +Of sunlight strikes through cloud, and clears<BR> +The whole drear countryside of grey;<BR> +So may one word dispel a cloud of tears.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p29"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TO A ROBIN IN DECEMBER<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In Paradise there is no sweeter song<BR> +Than that thin music that the robin makes<BR> +On short December afternoons, and takes<BR> +The winter woods, with utterance frail, yet strong;<BR> +Till all the barren fields, and ruined brakes,<BR> +The flowerless gardens, and the hedges bare<BR> +Dream of the spring, and all the rainy air<BR> +Seems soft and mellow as the summer lakes.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +More precious than the treasures of the East,<BR> +(Guarded by silver-footed antelope,)<BR> +Or all the nightingales that haunt the grove<BR> +Of Persian gardens; silver pipe of hope!<BR> +That Nature gives us when her gifts are least,<BR> +Sing to our hearts, oh, little voice of love.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p30"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A JANUARY MORNING<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +How strangely shone the crescent of the moon<BR> +In the grey twilight dawning o'er the sea;<BR> +A star, that seemed of stars a memory,<BR> +(As faint as lilies on a sultry noon)<BR> +Ebbed in the chilly waxing of the morn;<BR> +The sea was rest in motion; hardly stirred<BR> +Its waves upon the beach; there was no bird<BR> +To break its undersong of silence born.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The misty shadows lay upon the trees,<BR> +Whose colour was but echo of the tone<BR> +That earth and sky were wrapped in, harmonies<BR> +Of wedded hue were visible alone,<BR> +—And over all a breath of memory blown,<BR> +Of other dawnings upon other seas.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p31"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FEBRUARY<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Can there be aught to touch the sleeping dead<BR> +To consciousness; can love still call to love<BR> +Across that dark abyss; can feeling move<BR> +Dead heart and brain, that once with blood were fed,<BR> +To stir and quicken in their narrow bed,<BR> +For that which yet is living? We believe<BR> +Such force has love, that it may still retrieve<BR> +Its heart's Eurydice among the dead.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I shall awake, then, shall awake my soul—<BR> +Not when full summer beautifies the earth,<BR> +But with the first sweet stirring of the sap,<BR> +Ere yet the fields are green or leaves unroll:<BR> +I shall but sleep awhile in Nature's lap,<BR> +To be reborn with February's rebirth.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p32"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TO APRIL<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +I<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +'Tis not alone the loveliness of spring<BR> +That makes spring lovely; there's a sense behind<BR> +Of wonders, deeper than the eye can find<BR> +In daffodils, or swallows on the wing;<BR> +A subtler pleasure than the sense can bind<BR> +When on the dusty roads the rain-drops sing<BR> +As March turns April, and the hours bring<BR> +Songs to deaf ears, and beauty to the blind.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +April is secret nature's treasure room,<BR> +Which she unlocks to us who love her well<BR> +In magic moments; then indeed we see<BR> +The wonder of all spring-times, from the gloom<BR> +Of world-beginnings, long ere Adam fell—<BR> +And all the beauty of all springs to be.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p33"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TO APRIL<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +II<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +There will be other days as fair as these<BR> +Which I shall never see; for other eyes<BR> +The lyric loveliness of cherry trees<BR> +Shall bloom milk-white against the windy skies<BR> +And I not praise them; where upon the stream<BR> +The faëry tracery of willows lies<BR> +I shall not see the sunlight's flying gleam,<BR> +Nor watch the swallows sudden dip and rise.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Most mutable the forms of beauty are,<BR> +Yet Beauty most eternal and unchanged,<BR> +Perfect for us, and for posterity<BR> +Still perfect; yearly is the pageant ranged.<BR> +And dare we wish that our poor dust should mar<BR> +The wonder of such immortality?<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p34"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TO DANIEL MANIN<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +If that most noble soul, which, here on earth,<BR> +Was known as Manin, yet have consciousness<BR> +Of what is, and what is not, being not less<BR> +Than here he was, in courage and in worth,<BR> +Seeing the world whereon we sweat and strive;<BR> +Shall he not know his Italy, and bless,<BR> +And in his own heart praise the steadfastness<BR> +That held him to his purpose when alive?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Shall he not have reward for all his pain,<BR> +Who, dying with his incompleted aim,<BR> +Saw failure only, and the bitter toll<BR> +Of loved ones lost, and lost, it seemed, in vain?<BR> +Must not that heart still keep his country's name,<BR> +Though o'er him all death's waters heave and roll?<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p35"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TO THE LEADERS OF BOTH PARTIES<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +January 1910<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +"A people's voice, we are a people yet."<BR> + —TENNYSON'S <I>Ode on Death of the Duke of Wellington.</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Think on your birthright, England! On that voice<BR> +Which sounded first the ringing clarion note<BR> +Of freedom, and the ears of mankind smote<BR> +With that brave speech, whose hearing does rejoice<BR> +The angels (in his starry sphere remote<BR> +Each sitting). Think upon your past, my land;<BR> +The heart to wish, the will to dare, the hand<BR> +To do the right, though round the senses float<BR> +The Protean shapes of evil. We have struck<BR> +To free the slave, against a world in doubt;<BR> +Have raised the grovelling from their muddy ruck<BR> +And made them men; our foes once put to rout<BR> +We give them justice; we have scorned to truck<BR> +In gold for blood, and fatten on such spoil—<BR> +To others be the gain, to us the toil.<BR> +Oh, once more, England, let that voice ring out!<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Alas! thou now dost hide thy Titan self<BR> +In a drab's clothing, lies; whilst, false and shrill,<BR> +Thy people squabble for the dirty pelf<BR> +Of office, at the hustings; while they fill<BR> +Our streets with lies, that, from the naked walls,<BR> +Mouth blatantly upon us, open shame;<BR> +While throughout Europe goes thy honoured name,<BR> +Grimacing in a mask of Party brawls.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Bethink you, Leaders! How will history place<BR> +Your name beside her others, if you fight<BR> +With such-like weapons? Oh, be bold to face<BR> +The conflict, tell the truth, as in your sight<BR> +It does appear, with nothing false or base,<BR> +—The nation's heart will know to choose aright—<BR> +Be brave! Be true these days! Will you forget<BR> +You are our Leaders, we, a people yet?<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p37"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CONSOLATION<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Is there a pain to match my pain<BR> +In all this world of woe;<BR> +When to and fro on a barren earth<BR> +My weary footsteps go?<BR> +When no day's sun shall give me mirth<BR> +And no stars blessed be;<BR> +Because my heart goes hungry and lone<BR> +For one who turns from me?"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Hear what the voice of all Sorrows saith<BR> +From out the ages dim:<BR> +"As melt the snows your passion goes,<BR> +And as dew it vanisheth.<BR> +Take up, take up your burden of woe,<BR> +Unblenching on your journey go,<BR> +For man was born to reap and sow<BR> +That earth might fruitful be."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Is there a pain to match my pain,<BR> +Who watch the small dead face,<BR> +With the folded lips, and the folded lids<BR> +And the cheek the dimples grace;<BR> +Where they will come no more, no more?—<BR> +Oh, small soft hands that hold<BR> +So quietly, in rosy palms,<BR> +My heart that's dead and cold."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Hear what the voice of all Sorrows saith:<BR> +"Though still the little feet,<BR> +Though the hands are chill, and the sweet form chill,<BR> +And gone the childish breath;<BR> +Take up, take up your burden of woe,<BR> +For you were born to sorrow so,<BR> +To bear in anguish, and lose in pain,<BR> +That earth might be fulfilled."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Is there a pain to match my pain<BR> +Who loved all men on earth,<BR> +Who saw the Godhead, through the shell<BR> +That burdened them at birth;<BR> +Who strove for right, who strove for good,<BR> +Since love must win at last?<BR> +—This hour they lead me out to die,<BR> +With cords they make me fast."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Hear what the voice of all Sorrows saith:<BR> +"They lead you out to die;<BR> +For the love you gave they will dig your grave,<BR> +And their thanks to you is death.<BR> +Take up, take up your burden of woe,<BR> +And proudly to your scaffold go,<BR> +For men were born to suffer so,<BR> +That mankind might be great."<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p40"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> + TAPESTRY +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +God the omnipotent wearied of space,<BR> + And the void of endless blue,<BR> +And the light of eternity in His face,<BR> +And eternity's emptiness round the place<BR> + That the presence of Godhead knew.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +So He wove Him a piece of tapestry<BR> + O'er all infinity drawn,<BR> +And out of His brain and its subtlety<BR> +Were the suns that stand, and the comets that flee,<BR> + And the paths of the planets born.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +No plan too great, no design too small,<BR> + For the fingers of God the Lord,<BR> +The joy of invention lived through all,<BR> +From the orbit curve of the earthly ball<BR> + To the shell where sound is stored.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And all continued as they were made,<BR> + Clean cast from Perfection's brain,<BR> +Not a beam of light from its circle strayed,<BR> +But the whole the heavenly laws obeyed,<BR> + —God looked, and wearied again.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +So He wove Him a piece of tapestry<BR> + With fingers thrice refined,<BR> +And He mingled the threads with subtlety,<BR> +The threads of our human destiny,<BR> + And the light with the dark He twined.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +For shadow and shine were mingled there,<BR> + And white was matched with red,<BR> +And the thread of the silver gleamed more fair<BR> +For the gloom that, surrounding, made it rare;<BR> + And God in His wisdom said:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Of my handiwork but the human soul<BR> + Can suffer the laws of change,<BR> +That only errs from my set control,<BR> +And takes in pleasure, and pays in toll,<BR> + The whole of its passion's range.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"But who shall judge or who condemn<BR> + This work that my hands have made,<BR> +For the thread that here appears a gem,<BR> +—So have I mingled and twisted them—<BR> + Is there the gleam of a blade?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Nor evil nor good exists for me,<BR> + As I mingle strand with strand;<BR> +The past is the visible tapestry,<BR> +The present I weave, and the destiny<BR> + Of the future is in my hand.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"And the past and the future both are met<BR> + In the present's history;<BR> +For the thread I hold is unbroken yet,<BR> +And the thing I weave is unguessed at yet,<BR> + In this human tapestry."<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p43"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WISDOM AND YOUTH<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In the depths of the forest Merlin dreamed;<BR> +The shuttle of noon wove light and shade<BR> +Over the moss and around the trees,<BR> +And a network among the branches made.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He sat with his back against a tree,<BR> +Grey as himself, and gnarled, and old;<BR> +The lichen was grey as the ragged beard<BR> +Over his friezen mantle's fold.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Still he sat, like an ancient stone<BR> +That time has forgotten to wear away—<BR> +While streamed the forest's green and gold,<BR> +Like banners on a windy day.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And Merlin watched, as watches a tree,<BR> +A sombre oak of antiquity,<BR> +The myriad life that seethes and hums,<BR> +Around its immobility.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Around himself, himself had made<BR> +A monstrous and a mystic spell,<BR> +Weblike, wherein he sat and dreamed;<BR> +—So in its mesh may spider dwell!<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +His silence heard the things that grow<BR> +In underwood of tangled green;<BR> +His vision penetrated deep,<BR> +Beneath the common surface screen;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The roots of things were plain to him,<BR> +He saw the crowded under-earth,<BR> +Where every life fought ceaselessly,<BR> +To bring a future life to birth;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +For him the stirring of the leaves<BR> +Beneath a listless passing breeze,<BR> +Spoke with a manifolded tongue<BR> +From all the thickly growing trees;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +For him the beetles and the mice<BR> +Made magic of desires and fears,<BR> +The bumble bee's slow rhythmic hum<BR> +Seemed like the passing of the years.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And where a curving bramble-branch<BR> +Lay half in shade and half in light,<BR> +The universe's giant curves<BR> +Were all discovered to his sight;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +All things were all things' complement,<BR> +For what the oak left unexpressed<BR> +In line and hue, the silver birch<BR> +Continued, in completion's quest.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +There was no moss, nor stone, nor leaf,<BR> +Nor lingering small drop of dew,<BR> +But he resolved to harmony,<BR> +And in the mystic mind-web drew.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +So sat he, abstract as a god,<BR> +The greatest wisdom of the world,<BR> +While on his head the sunshine played,<BR> +And round his robe the shadows curled.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Till, through the forest's green and gold,<BR> +And through the magic afternoon,<BR> +—Strange, as moonlit waters are,<BR> +Sweet, as cowslip-fields in June:—<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Oh, summer-footed Vivien came!<BR> +And through the web of dreaming broke;<BR> +And on her silver clarion note<BR> +Of laughter, the great Sage awoke.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +She sat her down beneath the tree,<BR> +—Oh! fair her youth his age beside!—<BR> +She plucked the boughs to make her shade.<BR> +She pulled the flowers far and wide,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +To deck her hair; and while the glades<BR> +Re-echoed to her laughter gay,<BR> +She leaned to Merlin, kissing him,<BR> +And stroked his beard, unkempt and grey.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And he forgot the voice of trees,<BR> +And of the silent undergrowth,<BR> +To hear her merry lilting song,<BR> +And watch, reposed in summer sloth,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Vivien dance upon the sward,<BR> +As children dance, alone, at ease;<BR> +Till breathlessly she cast her down<BR> +And laid her head upon his knees.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And with his hand among her hair<BR> +The magic of his mind was rent,<BR> +And captive to her shadowed eyes,<BR> +Behold! the Master-Thinker went.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p48"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> + A VILLA ON THE BAY OF NAPLES +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The crescent's single line of white<BR> +Above the pointed cypress tree,<BR> +Was all there was of any light<BR> +Upon the earth and on the sea;<BR> +(Black was the bay of Naples.)<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"And ah," she said, "why have you come<BR> +Unbidden on my balcony,<BR> +This midnight hour, close and dumb;<BR> +What is it you would have of me,<BR> +Here by the bay of Naples?"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Now having knit, untie the knot,"<BR> +Said he; "you drew me from afar,<BR> +Or having willed or willed it not,<BR> +Your face shone on me like a star<BR> +Above the bay of Naples.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Oh, know you not, fair star of love,<BR> +The thought of you is like new wine,<BR> +Or strong sweet air on heights above,<BR> +For mortal senses too divine——"<BR> +(Black was the bay of Naples.)<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Her lamp beside the window set<BR> +The woman, and the light shone out<BR> +A yellow glimmer in the jet<BR> +Of darkness, that lay all about<BR> +The outstretched bay of Naples.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But "Nay" she said, and laughed with scorn.<BR> +And also with a little pride;<BR> +"My lover comes before the morn,<BR> +And, if he find you, woe betide<BR> +Beside the bay of Naples.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Now get you gone in very deed,<BR> +While time is yet for you to go,<BR> +Behold, I beg you at my need;<BR> +How black the chilly waters flow<BR> +Around the bay of Naples!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Ah, do you think I am afraid,"<BR> +Said he, "of man that sees the light?<BR> +If God himself command had laid<BR> +To leave you, I should stay to-night."<BR> +(Black was the bay of Naples).<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The trouble grew within her eyes,<BR> +She seemed to feel, as in a dream,<BR> +The ruling force in love that lies;<BR> +She veiled the lamplight's yellow gleam<BR> +From the black bay of Naples.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Ah me," she said, "you tarry yet,<BR> +And late and chilly grows the night,<BR> +To-morrow shall my lamp be set<BR> +To guide you hither with its light,"<BR> +Across the bay of Naples.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"To-morrow then, to-morrow's years.<BR> +I will be yours, but go to-night."<BR> +And dimly through the mist of tears<BR> +She saw the crescent's line of white,<BR> +High o'er the bay of Naples.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"To-morrow for to-morrow be!<BR> +To-night is all I ask and need,<BR> +I cannot loose love's core," said he,<BR> +"Once to my hand it has been freed"<BR> +(Black was the bay of Naples).<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Nay, death may follow love! 'Tis fit<BR> +That life being empty, should be cast<BR> +Carelessly into darkness' pit,<BR> +Be one with all the life that's past"<BR> +(Black was the bay of Naples).<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Only compress the joy of years,<BR> +Summers and seasons, nights and noons,<BR> +To these short hours, where there appears,<BR> +As of a mighty god that swoons,<BR> +The sea's black arm round Naples.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Oh, black beneath us are the trees,<BR> +And black the weary line of hills,<BR> +With all life's joy, and light, and ease,<BR> +This room your radiant presence fills"<BR> +(Black was the bay of Naples).<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"And ah," said he, "I'll give my soul<BR> +To lie beneath your foot in hell,<BR> +That you may walk unscorched and whole—<BR> +Can other lovers love so well?"<BR> +(Black was the bay of Naples).<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +She took his hand and drew him in.<BR> +She quenched the lamplight's yellow gleam;<BR> +The moon was like a sabre thin,<BR> +The one white thing in all that dream<BR> +Of black that lay on Naples.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p52"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A SONG<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What if the rose should bloom,<BR> + And the sunset deepen and fade,<BR> +If we are penned in the gloom<BR> + By close-barred shutters made?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What of the birds and the sun,<BR> + And the moon-rise behind the trees,<BR> +To the eyes and ears of one<BR> + Who neither hears nor sees?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What of the world of love,<BR> + Its fragrance, and light, and bloom,<BR> +To the soul that cannot move<BR> + Out of a loveless room?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Were it better the rose were dead<BR> + In a black December frost,<BR> +That no more skies were red,<BR> + That lovers' ways were lost?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Ah no! The wood must shrink,<BR> + Bar closely as you may,<BR> +And between the shutters' chink<BR> + Slips in the sunlight's ray.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +So that the prisoner knows<BR> + It is June in the world outside,<BR> +And his heart is glad for the rose,<BR> + Though to him it is denied.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +For the love of lovely things<BR> + Must quench all bitterness,<BR> +And whilst the robin sings<BR> + No heart is comfortless.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p54"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BALLAD OF A SEA-NYMPH<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Where the water meets the sands<BR> + All alone sat she,<BR> +Wrung her hair with chilly hands<BR> + That glimmered mistily.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Phosphorescent were the drips<BR> + From her hair she wrung,<BR> +And like moonlight on her lips<BR> + Were the words she sung.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +White she was, as white as foam<BR> + 'Neath a moonlit sky,<BR> +And the treasures of her home<BR> + On her brow did lie.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +There he found her, he, a man,<BR> + Wandering by the sea,<BR> +And desire through him ran—<BR> + Misty-white was she.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +There he wooed her, wooed her long,<BR> + Till, within her eyes,<BR> +Where were erst moonshine and song,<BR> + Dawned in slow surprise<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Mortal pain and mortal doubt,<BR> + Shades of misery,<BR> +And she turned her round about,<BR> + Facing from the sea.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In his hand her hand she laid,<BR> + As to land they turned,<BR> +And her hand of sea-foam made<BR> + 'Neath his fingers burned.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +On they went then, he and she,<BR> + Walking toward the East;<BR> +And her sisters of the sea<BR> + Their bewailing ceased<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +As it paled towards the dawn,<BR> + From the light they fled;<BR> +But she laughed with joy new-born.<BR> + "Is this life?" she said.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +There was labour of the day,<BR> + Dust upon her feet,<BR> +Scorching of the shadeless way,<BR> + Clamour of the street;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +All a human want and pain,<BR> + Laughter fraught with tears,<BR> +Toil, when toil we know is vain,<BR> + Hope, when hopes are fears;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Till this creature of the sea<BR> + At the last became<BR> +Human, in her misery,<BR> + Joy, and pride, and shame.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +With a word he left her then<BR> + "Woman that you are,<BR> +Mystery attracts us men<BR> + Draws us from afar.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Sea-nymph as you were, a thing<BR> + Intangible, unknown,<BR> +Like the light the sunbeams fling,<BR> + Where the spray is blown,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Sea-nymph have you ceased to be,<BR> + Forfeited the whole<BR> +Of that moonlight poetry,<BR> + Cherished by man's soul;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Still we seek the dim Ideal<BR> + As the moth the star,<BR> +How for women can we feel<BR> + That our seekings bar?"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Where the water meets the sands,<BR> + All alone sat she,<BR> +With her head between her hands,<BR> + Facing from the sea;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +From her forehead pushed her hair<BR> + Drooping wearily,<BR> +Shivered by the water there:<BR> + "Oh, soul's a curse," said she.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p58"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHRYSANTHEMUMS<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Oh, what a dainty negligence you show<BR> +Outspreading all your petals' coquetry,<BR> +As careless of restraint as poetry,<BR> +Although, like poetry, you surely know<BR> +That by the laws of beauty you must grow.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +There is a pure and virgin fantasy<BR> +In your curled petals, white as driven snow,<BR> +And wayward as the unbound locks that blow<BR> +Around a maiden's head, when, mad with glee,<BR> +With outstretched arms she dances by the sea.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Yet in your glad abandon still you show<BR> +The wildest beauty sorrow-touched must be,<BR> +To give it worth; your leaves curve tenderly<BR> +In subtle arches; so the heart may know<BR> +Within the dancing maid the roots of woe.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p59"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A COURTLY MADRIGAL<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Between the eyebrow and the eye<BR> +Such uncounted beauties lie,<BR> +Plain it is 'tis Cupid's pleasaunce only.<BR> +There he makes his court and seat,<BR> +There lets all his graces meet,<BR> +Leaves a loveless world, bereft and lonely.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Oh, fair straight brows that brood above<BR> +The eyelid, as the nesting dove<BR> +Broods upon her treasured young;<BR> +In rosy flesh the veins of blue<BR> +Do softly, dimly glimmer through,<BR> +To lose themselves the eyelashes among.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Such eyelashes! More darkly sweet<BR> +Than where the serried treetops meet<BR> +Above the forest's undiscovered waters;<BR> +Where scarce the stars peep o'er the edge,<BR> +(Fringed round about with darkling sedge,<BR> +And thickly-growing reeds, fair Syrinx' daughters).<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p60"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> + IN ARCADIA +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +See how Pan through the forest goes,<BR> + The forest of Arcadia,<BR> +Giving a sidelong leer at the rose,<BR> +Trampling the daisies with hairy toes,<BR> +And wrinkling his ugly gnarled old nose,<BR> + In the forest of Arcadia.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Evil and ugly, Pan is bored,<BR> + In the forest of Arcadia;<BR> +Tired of hours with honey stored,<BR> +What diversion can it afford<BR> +The whole green forest of which he's lord,<BR> + The forest of Arcadia?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Till suddenly, the glimpse of a face<BR> + In the forest of Arcadia!<BR> +In the verdant depths where leaves enlace,<BR> +And dapple with shadow the body's grace—<BR> +And Pan, with a snort, gives the Dryad chase,<BR> + In the forest of Arcadia.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +She is off, on the nimblest of little feet,<BR> + In the forest of Arcadia;<BR> +Light as a bird where the treetops meet,<BR> +For with sudden terror her pulses beat,<BR> +And desire has made the old god fleet,<BR> + In the forest of Arcadia.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Milk-white down the long green avenues,<BR> + In the forest of Arcadia,<BR> +Like a dove she flies, and he pursues,<BR> +Like a hungry hawk when its prey it views—<BR> +—And Zeus, on Olympus, prepares a ruse<BR> + For the forest of Arcadia.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Nearer draws Pan, with outstretched hand,<BR> + In the forest of Arcadia,<BR> +To grasp her long hair's floating strand;<BR> +—But Zeus, with Olympian wink, had planned<BR> +That another form for the girl's should stand<BR> + In the forest of Arcadia.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And the poor old sinner who thought to seize,<BR> + In the forest of Arcadia,<BR> +The daintiest thing that sense could tease,<BR> +Found only a satyr if you please,<BR> +As like himself as peas to peas,<BR> + In the forest of Arcadia.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p62"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A BALLAD OF KING RICHARD<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +1. <I>The Banner</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +King Richard wiped the wine from his lips<BR> + And laughed full scornfully;<BR> +"Oh, I care not a bit for King Philip's wit,<BR> + Nor the honour of France," quoth he;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"And I care not a straw for Austria's wrath,<BR> + And little of Templars reck;<BR> +If I lead not this host, by the Holy Ghost,<BR> + May my head be struck from my neck."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +King Richard drank, and swore in his cups<BR> + —And a mighty man was he—<BR> +"Let the mongrels yap, I care not a rap,<BR> + I am Richard the Lion," quoth he.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The news went forth to the King of France<BR> + And the Dukes of high degree,<BR> +How Richard had sworn that no man born<BR> + Should lead the armies but he.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The Kings were wroth at King Richard's words<BR> + That were carried to them that day;<BR> +"Does he make a mock of our ancient stock,<BR> + This king of an hour?" quoth they.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"This bastard son of a bastard sire<BR> + The standard first would plant<BR> +On the city's walls when Jerusalem falls;<BR> + Must we this honour grant?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Not so; if Christ would have Richard lead,<BR> + Let Christ give grace to his arms.<BR> +We will stand aside from the battle pride<BR> + And the fury of war's alarms.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Our men are sick and outnumbered sore,<BR> + And words from home reveal<BR> +That our country cries for our governance wise;<BR> + We will look to our country's weal.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"For we came to fight for a Holy Cause,<BR> + Not dance to an upstart king;<BR> +The cause must wait for Richard the Great,<BR> + For our weapons down we fling."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Breathless and hushed the messengers spoke<BR> + As they told King Richard the news<BR> +How the kings were set and the council met,<BR> + And the kings to fight refuse.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Louder than ever laughed the King<BR> + In the depths of his golden beard.<BR> +"God rest my soul, I will reach the goal,<BR> + And show if Richard's afeared;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"I will plant my flag amidst this camp<BR> + As a token seen of all;<BR> +Nor Austria's lance, nor the frown of France,<BR> + Shall make its splendour fall."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +So the sultry breezes of Ascalon<BR> + Saluted the lions three,<BR> +And Austria frowned from his camping ground,<BR> + And cursed right bitterly.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Shall this bastard son of a bastard sire<BR> + Boast he o'erruleth me?<BR> +By the Holy Cross, be it living loss,<BR> + This shame shall never be."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +So he planted his banner firm and fast,<BR> + And it floated high and free,<BR> +On the selfsame mound in the Christian ground<BR> + Flew eagle and lions three.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Word they brought to Richard the King<BR> + Where in his tent he lay,<BR> +"Lo, Austria's hand on the lion's land<BR> + Has loosed the eagle," said they.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Richard arose and strode in haste<BR> + —Oh the banners floated free—<BR> +"Ill eagles fare in the lion's lair,<BR> + Take down your banner," quoth he.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But word for word the Archduke gave.<BR> + He answered, "Eagles fly;<BR> +Let the lion keep to the fields and sheep,<BR> + To the eagle leave the sky."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Do you give me words?" cried Richard the King;<BR> + "Ho, now, at your words I laugh."<BR> +And he tore the flag like a worthless rag,<BR> + And he wrenched and splintered the staff,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And he set his foot on the silken flag,<BR> + His foot on Austria's fame;<BR> +With a swordless hip, yet a smiling lip,<BR> + He mocked the eagle's shame.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +(Oh, Richard the Lion, woe is me<BR> + For the sorrow your deed shall bring,<BR> +For the dungeon walls, and the gloom that falls<BR> + On the heart of Richard the King;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +For the long despair of the prison dark,<BR> + And the traffic in lordly things,<BR> +When the Austrian sold for an Emperor's gold<BR> + The son of the English kings.)<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But Richard laughed in the noonday sun<BR> + That beats on Palestine.<BR> +And Leopold turned, while in hate he burned<BR> + Against Plantagenet's line;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He trusted not in his own right arm,<BR> + But justice cried from France,<BR> +And France spake fair, but he did not dare<BR> + Withstand King Richard's glance.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Sullenly Austria turned from the Kings<BR> + And back to his tents went he;<BR> +And the lions of gold above Richard the bold<BR> + Floated alone and free.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +2. <I>The Imprisonment</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Word they brought to Leopold,<BR> + Spake in Austria's ear;<BR> +"Rejoice this day that brings your prey,<BR> + Your enemy Richard is here;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Now is revenge for an ancient grudge<BR> + Given into your hand,<BR> +He mocked aloud 'mid the allies' crowd<BR> + And is now alone in your land."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Leopold started out of his seat;<BR> + "Good be the news indeed!<BR> +Now quickly bring to me hither the king,<BR> + He shall sue to me in his need."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Richard the King is before the Duke,<BR> + Garbed in a mean disguise,<BR> +Yet kingship claim the mighty frame<BR> + And the glance of the kingly eyes,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And the Jove-like head with its close-cut hair,<BR> + And the flowing golden beard;<BR> +No rags can hide the huge limbs' pride,<BR> + In kingly cradle reared.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Gay, and kingly, and debonair<BR> + The Lion-hearted stood.<BR> +"Fair come to land, by this right hand,<BR> + Your welcome shall be good."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Fair thanks to you, our cousin the Duke,"<BR> + Said Richard, no whit beguiled;<BR> +"I thought not to prove the worth of your love<BR> + When I entered your land," he smiled.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Being in haste to return to my land,<BR> + I passed in this disguise,<BR> +For I would not stay the rich display<BR> + Your ducal bounty supplies."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Leopold snarled like an angry wolf.<BR> + "How came you hither?" said he;<BR> +"No choice of mine, but by rule divine,"<BR> + —Said Richard—"I came by sea,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Travelling in haste from Palestine<BR> + To assure me England's throne;<BR> +But a storm arose, and my fears suppose<BR> + That I was saved alone."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Now bind his hands," cried Leopold,<BR> + "For he comes as a spy, I see."<BR> +The King's eyes blazed in wrath amazed,<BR> + "A ducal greeting," quoth he.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"These bonds are unfitting, Duke Leopold,<BR> + Both mine and your degree,<BR> +Nor consorts my fame with a spying name,<BR> + In your throat let your own words be."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Amazed were they all at Richard's taunts,<BR> + But he smiled with easy pride.<BR> +"Now what prevents that my fury vents<BR> + Itself?" the Austrian cried.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Now what prevents that I kill you straight<BR> + And your corpse to the ravens fling?<BR> +'Twere easy to say you were ocean's prey."<BR> + "But you dare not," said Richard the King.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Leopold turned to his feudal lords,<BR> + Who stood in wondering;<BR> +"Now prison me straight this runagate,"<BR> + Said he, "let us lodge this King!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +They have taken Richard the Lion-heart<BR> + And fettered him fast and sure,<BR> +In a narrow cell they have chained him well<BR> + With chains that shall endure.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And even Richard's stout heart fails<BR> + When he hears the great doors clang,<BR> +And he knows at last that they have him fast,<BR> + Whose fame through Europe rang.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Oh, what prevents the crafty Duke<BR> + From poison or secret knife,<BR> +For no one knows that Richard goes<BR> + In disguise, in fear of his life;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"My brother John will well believe<BR> + That I was drowned at sea;<BR> +Nay, he scarce will ask, but will take the task<BR> + Of kingship gleefully;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"And my people will easily forget<BR> + Their monarch so little seen,<BR> +And almost my name will be lost to fame,<BR> + I shall be as I ne'er had been."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Many a weary week and month<BR> + Must darken prison walls;<BR> +And the King's eye dims, and his mighty limbs<BR> + Waste, as the leaf that falls.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And his face is blanched, and sorrow sits<BR> + Carven upon his brow,<BR> +And his right arm slacks for the battle-axe,<BR> + The warlike field to plough.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And yet and anon comes Leopold<BR> + His captive lord to see,<BR> +And revenge to taste, as he sees him waste,<BR> + "How fares the Lion?" cries he.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Cousinly questioned," says the King,<BR> + And kingly flashes his eye;<BR> +"Let the hog beware of the lion's lair,<BR> + Though the lion couchant lie."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And then gives back Duke Leopold,<BR> + And his laugh has a hollow ring;<BR> +Once more he goes, and the shadows close<BR> + Round the head and the heart of the King.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then word comes suddenly, flying fast,<BR> + "Masters, the King is found!"<BR> +And from distant lands the poet stands<BR> + At last upon English ground.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"I have found him, Blondel de Nesle!<BR> + As I wandered, harp in hand,<BR> +Through breadth and length of Austria's strength,<BR> + I saw a tower stand,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"And nearer drew, I knew not why,<BR> + Till I heard a man's voice sing<BR> +With something of skill, and my heart stood still—<BR> + 'Twas the voice of Richard the King,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Singing a fitte that we both had made<BR> + Once in a banquet hall,<BR> +When his heart was light, of a captive knight<BR> + Who out upon Fate did call.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Then I took up King Richard's words<BR> + And sang the fitte again,<BR> +And did descry—Oh! hope was high!—-<BR> + That he of it was fain.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"So I struck my harp and sang once more<BR> + Of a minstrel wandering far,<BR> +Till he reached the strand of a distant land<BR> + Where trusty yeomen are,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Where hearts will swell with joy to hear<BR> + Of their dear and distant King,<BR> +And burn for shame of his knightly fame<BR> + And the false imprisoning——<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"And Richard sang from his mighty throat<BR> + 'Oh Blondel, blessed be thou,<BR> +Thy star of birth makes glad the earth,<BR> + Thy wit shall save me now.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"'Oh tell my people that I am woe<BR> + For my absence long and drear,<BR> +When the land did bleed under wolfish greed<BR> + And the shepherd was not near.'"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +(Sullen and black was the brow of John<BR> + Like an angry thunder-cloud,<BR> +But the poet recked not in his respect,<BR> + His message spake aloud.)<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"'And tell my people Richard sends<BR> + His heart in the minstrel's hand,<BR> +And my eyes shall yearn until they turn<BR> + On the cliffs of my loyal land.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"'And this do I add at night and morn,<BR> + When I pray for the fall of Zion:<BR> +To my people send a better friend,<BR> + Oh God, than Richard the Lion!'"<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p75"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What can death render us commensurate<BR> +With what it takes away; the voice of birds<BR> +On sweet spring mornings, and the face of spring;<BR> +And lush long grass around the browsing herds;<BR> +And shadows on the distant hills the flying rain-clouds fling?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What is there brighter in the world to come<BR> +Than white-winged sea-gulls, flashing in the sun<BR> +Above the blue Atlantic; what more free,<BR> +Yet what more stable, than those white wings, strung<BR> +All motionless, against a wind that whips the racing sea?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Yea, and if these things yet may be the soul's—<BR> +The summer moon above the garden flowers<BR> +Dew-drenched, and the slow song of nightingales—<BR> +Yea, and if all these after death be ours,<BR> +More beauty yet, and peace from strife, yet still the debt prevails.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +For what can ever give us back again<BR> +The dear, familiar things of every day;<BR> +The loved and common language that we share;<BR> +The trivial pleasures; and, when children play,<BR> +Their laughter, and the touch of hands; and jests; and common care?<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & Co.<BR> +<BR> +Edinburgh & London<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap077"></A> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +BY THE SAME AUTHOR +</P> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +Fcap. 4to, cloth, 5s. net +</P> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWS +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Presland appears to be following in the footsteps of Schiller.... +Considered generally, Mr. Presland's drama is a fine piece of work. +Excellent in its presentation of character, impressive in sentiment, +and dignified in metre, it lacks none of the greater qualities of the +historical drama...."—<I>Scotsman.</I> +</P> + +<P> +"The author remains as simple and dignified in style as in his +treatment of the tragedy of 'Joan of Arc.' There is no painful +straining after effect. Act V. is really powerful."—<I>Evening +Standard</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Presland gives promise of becoming one of the most successful +living writers of poetic drama. His 'Joan of Arc' we have reason to +remember, his 'Queen Mary' is no less striking. There is no +Swinburnian welter of poetry here, but a very dramatically presented +study of a very baffling woman. It would be difficult for anyone to +cavil at the poet's presentation of the time.... Nothing could be +finer, from a dramatic point of view, than her acting after the murder +of Rizzio.... The last act is a splendid bit of work; the savagery of +the street song and the last speech of Mary before signing her +abdication are equally dramatic and equally poetic on very diverse +lines. The play is altogether noteworthy."—<I>Glasgow Herald</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"... It would, in our estimation, be a decided acquisition to any +actor-manager who could arrange with the author to allow him to produce +it.... Space does not permit us to deal with it here as we would like +to do, or as it deserves, but we with pleasure commend it to our +readers in the most emphatic way...."—<I>Road</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"... 'Mary Queen of Scots,' a work in which he equals and even exceeds +his marked success in dramatizing a theme from the history of the +heroic Maid of Orleans.... Its progress is well planned, and it +proceeds with spirit, several of the scenes being splendidly dramatic. +As literature the play is sustained at a high level in strong nervous +verse.... The characters are firmly drawn and +lifelike...."—<I>Liverpool Daily Post</I>. +</P> + +<BR> +<P CLASS="t3"> +LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +BY THE SAME AUTHOR +</P> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +Fcap. 4to, cloth, 5s. net +</P> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +JOAN OF ARC +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWS +</P> + +<P> +"An excellent drama.... The verse is always flexible, and at the right +moment rises into the atmosphere of poetry in which Shakespeare moves +with such freedom.... Joan is the soul and centre of the play, and the +author has done nobly by her. We catch, as we read, some of the +infection that fell upon men's souls from her presence ... which simply +means that Mr. Presland has realised his historical characters so well +as to make them seem living.... What we have written is sufficient to +show with what dramatic truth and poetic sympathy the dramatist has +approached his great subject, and with what success he has handled +it."—<I>Glasgow Herald</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Presland has put some excellent workmanship into this new dramatic +picture of the Maid of Orleans.... The action never flags. The verse +is fluid, natural, yet dignified, and adapts itself easily to the +varying requirements of the situations.... A play which leaves in the +reader's mind a picture that grows upon him. One forgets everything +but Joan, and that not because of any lack of proportion in the +composition, but because of the naturalness and force of her beautiful +character."—<I>Bibliophile</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"At once good drama and good poetry.... The well-known story is deftly +treated. The verse is easy and vigorous—above all, it is +dramatic."—<I>Sheffield Daily Telegraph</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Presland's play shows how impressive Joan of Arc may be made as +the central figure in a 'history.' ... Written with faithful adherence +to Shakespearean traditions of form, it follows out in an interesting +sequence of scenes the several stages in the career of the Maid of +Orleans.... The piece is all the more impressive because it does not +bring in any invented theatrical love interest, or anything of that +sort, to confuse the simple lines of the accepted story."—<I>Scotsman</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"Written in language which will commend itself to all educated people, +who will certainly not only be entertained, but instructed thereby. +The author has done his work excellently in every way."—<I>Road</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & CO. +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +BY THE SAME AUTHOR +</P> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +Fcap. 4to, cloth, 5s. net +</P> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +MANIN +<BR> +AND THE DEFENCE OF VENICE +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWS +</P> + +<P> +"... The play is genuinely dramatic, and its impressiveness is +heightened by the dignity of the blank verse. There is poetry on every +page, but the effects are gained, not by flaunting rhetoric, but by +simplicity of language, which is forcible through its truth.... We can +only advise those who love English verse to read this play; they will +see that poetry is still a living thing among us."—<I>Oxford Magazine</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Presland follows up his dramas 'Joan of Arc' and 'Mary Queen of +Scots,' with a picture, at once moving and terrible, of the siege of +Venice by the Austrians in 1849.... He has once more proved himself a +dramatist of that high poetic order which we have so often been told +died out with the eighteenth century."—<I>Literary World</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"His new work condenses into four acts of vigorous and flexible blank +verse, always animated in movement, and skilfully wrought together into +a fine unity of action.... Mr. Presland's Manin is an impressive, +pathetic figure, and the play one which cultured readers should follow +with unqualified interest."—<I>Scotsman</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"... The poetry never clogs the action and the whole play is tense with +the struggle in the soul of the hero.... The play thus becomes the +tragedy of a city but the triumph of a man, and the interplay of the +two ideas is finely wrought out. It is not all sombre, but even the +gayest of its characters throbs to the heart-beat of Italy, and helps +to give unity to the drama."—<I>Glasgow Herald</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"Written in blank verse, that is both flexible and dramatic, the author +gives an effect of spaciousness, combined with tense +feeling."—<I>Publisher's Circular</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"In the unfolding of the story, Mr. Presland shows much greater genius +than he did in either of his two previous dramatic works.... The verse +is most flexible, and practically all through he moves with great +freedom and reaches real dignity; the action seldom flags, and the +whole work is truly dramatic. Especially might we pick out the last +act as extremely powerful."—<I>Sheffield Telegraph</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"Throughout this admirable piece of dramatic work there is clear +evidence of the author's extraordinary power as a delineator in poetic +drama of human character in its many phases. His 'Joan of Arc' was a +work which one could not fail to remember by reason of its striking +characteristics; but we are convinced that remembrance of the 'Defence +of Venice' will be equally, if not more, indelible."—<I>Cape Argus</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Deluge and Other Poems, by John Presland + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DELUGE AND OTHER POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 37751-h.htm or 37751-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/7/5/37751/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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