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diff --git a/38011.txt b/38011.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1476c51 --- /dev/null +++ b/38011.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5519 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Epic of Hades, by Lewis Morris + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Epic of Hades + In Three Books + +Author: Lewis Morris + +Release Date: November 14, 2011 [EBook #38011] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EPIC OF HADES *** + + + + +Produced by Paul Murray, Rory OConor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE POETICAL WORKS OF + MR. LEWIS MORRIS. + + I. + SONGS OF TWO WORLDS. With Portrait. + Eleventh Edition, price 5_s._ + II. + THE EPIC OF HADES. With an Autotype + Illustration, Nineteenth Edition, price 5_s._ + III. + GWEN and THE ODE OF LIFE. With + Frontispiece. Sixth Edition, price 5_s._ + + THE EPIC OF HADES. Third Illustrated + Edition. With Sixteen Autotype Plates after the + Drawings by the late GEORGE R. CHAPMAN, 4to, + cloth extra, gilt edges, price 21_s._ + + THE EPIC OF HADES. The Presentation + Edition. 4to, cloth extra, price 10_s._ 6_d._ + + SONGS UNSUNG. Fourth Edition. Fcap. 8vo, + cloth, 6_s._ + + ** _For Notices of the Press, see end of this Volume._ + * + LONDON: KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO. + + + + + THE POETICAL WORKS OF + LEWIS MORRIS + + + + + _VOLUME TWO_ + + THE EPIC OF HADES + + + + + LONDON + KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO., 1, PATERNOSTER SQUARE + 1885 + + + + + [Illustration: _Then with wings + Of gold we soared, I looking in his eyes + Over yon dark broad river, and this dim land._ + Page 228.] + + + + + THE EPIC OF HADES + + IN THREE BOOKS + + BY + + LEWIS MORRIS + + M.A.; HONORARY FELLOW OF JESUS COLLEGE, OXFORD + KNIGHT OF THE REDEEMER OF GREECE, ETC., ETC. + + + "DIFFICILE EST PROPRIE COMMUNIA DICERE" + + + NINETEENTH EDITION. + + LONDON + + KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO., 1, PATERNOSTER SQUARE + 1885 + + + + + "The three excellences of Poetry: simplicity of language, + simplicity of subject, and simplicity of invention"-- + _The Welsh Triads_. + + + (_The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved._) + + + + + TO ALL + + WHO LOVE THE LITERATURE OF GREECE + + THIS POEM IS DEDICATED + + BY + + THE AUTHOR. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + BOOK I. + + TARTARUS. + + PAGE + TANTALUS 7 + + PHAEDRA 23 + + SISYPHUS 40 + + CLYTAEMNESTRA 55 + + + BOOK II. + + HADES. + + MARSYAS 82 + + ANDROMEDA 95 + + ACTAEON 110 + + HELEN 120 + + EURYDICE 145 + + ORPHEUS 150 + + DEIANEIRA 154 + + LAOCOON 166 + + NARCISSUS 175 + + MEDUSA 188 + + ADONIS 198 + + PERSEPHONE 202 + + ENDYMION 211 + + PSYCHE 219 + + + BOOK III. + + OLYMPUS. + + ARTEMIS 237 + + HERAKLES 244 + + APHRODITE 248 + + ATHENE 255 + + HERE 261 + + APOLLO 267 + + ZEUS 273 + + + + + BOOK I. + + TARTARUS. + + + + + THE EPIC OF HADES. + + + + +In February, when the dawn was slow, +And winds lay still, I gazed upon the fields +Which stretched before me, lifeless, and the stream +Which laboured in the distance to the sea, +Sullen and cold. No force of fancy took +My thought to bloomy June, when all the land +Lay deep in crested grass, and through the dew +The landrail brushed, and the lush banks were set +With strawberries, and the hot noise of bees +Lulled the bright flowers. Rather I seemed to move +Thro' that weird land, Hellenic fancy feigned, +Beyond the fabled river and the bark +Of Charon; and forthwith on every side +Rose the thin throng of ghosts. + First thro' the gloom +Of a dark grove I strayed--a sluggish wood, +Where scarce the faint fires of the setting stars, +Or some cold gleam of half-discovered dawn, +Might pierce the darkling pines. A twilight drear +Brooded o'er all the depths, and filled the dank +And sunken hollows of the rocks with shapes +Of terror,--beckoning hands and noiseless feet +Flitting from shade to shade, wide eyes that stared +With horror, and dumb mouths which seemed to cry, +Yet cried not. An ineffable despair +Hung over them and that dark world and took +The gazer captive, and a mingled pang +Of grief and anger, grown to fierce revolt +And hatred of the Invisible Force which holds +The issue of our lives and binds us fast +Within the net of Fate; as the fisher takes +The little quivering sea-things from the sea +And flings them gasping on the beach to die +Then spreads his net for more. And then again +I knew myself and those, creatures who lie +Safe in the strong grasp of Unchanging Law, +Encompassed round by hands unseen, and chains +Which do support the feeble life that else +Were spent on barren space; and thus I came +To look with less of horror, more of thought, +And bore to see the sight of pain that yet +Should grow to healing, when the concrete stain +Of life and act were purged, and the cleansed soul, +Renewed by the slow wear and waste of time, +Soared after aeons of days. + They seemed alone, +Those prisoners, thro' all time. Each soul shut fast +In its own jail of woe, apart, alone, +For evermore alone; no thought of kin, +Or kindly human glance, or fellowship +Of suffering or of sin, made light the load +Of solitary pain. Ay, though they walked +Together, or were prisoned in one cell +With the partners of their wrong, or with strange souls +Which the same Furies tore, they knew them not, +But suffered still alone; as in that shape +Of hell fools build on earth, where hopeless sin +Rots slow in solitude, nor sees the face +Of men, nor hears the sound of speech, nor feels +The touch of human hand, but broods a ghost, +Hating the bare blank cell--the other self, +Which brought it thither--hating man and God, +And all that is or has been. + + + + + A great fear +And pity froze my blood, who seemed to see +A half-remembered form. + An Eastern King +It was who lay in pain. He wore a crown +Upon his aching brow, and his white robe +Was jewelled with fair gems of price, the signs +Of pomp and honour and all luxury, +Which might prevent desire. But as I looked +There came a hunger in the gloating eyes, +A quenchless thirst upon the parching lips, +And such unsatisfied strainings in the hands +Stretched idly forth on what I could not see, +Some fatal food of fancy; that I knew +The undying worm of sense, which frets and gnaws +The unsatisfied stained soul. + Seeing me, he said: +"What? And art thou too damned as I? Dost know +This thirst as I, and see as I the cool +Lymph drawn from thee and mock thy lips; and parch +For ever in continual thirst; and mark +The fair fruit offered to thy hunger fade +Before thy longing eyes? I thought there was +No other as I thro' all the weary lengths +Of Time the gods have made, who pined so long +And found fruition mock him. + Long ago, +When I was young on earth, 'twas a sweet pain +To ride all day in the long chase, and feel +Toil and the summer fire my blood and parch +My lips, while in my father's halls I knew +The cool bath waited, with its marble floor; +And juices from the ripe fruits pressed, and chilled +With snows from far-off peaks; and troops of slaves; +And music and the dance; and fair young forms. +And dalliance, and every joy of sense, +That haunts the dreams of youth, which strength and ease +Corrupt, and vacant hours. Ay, it was sweet +For a while to plunge in these, as fair boys plunge +Naked in summer streams, all veil of shame +Laid by, only the young dear body bathed +And sunk in its delight, while the firm earth, +The soft green pastures gay with innocent flowers, +Or sober harvest fields, show like a dream; +And nought is left, but the young life which floats +Upon the depths of death, to sink, maybe, +And drown in pleasure, or rise at length grown wise +And gain the abandoned shore. + Ah, but at last +The swift desire waxed stronger and more strong, +And feeding on itself, grows tyrannous; +And the parched soul no longer finds delight +In the cool stream of old; nay, this itself, +Smitten by the fire of sense as by a flame, +Holds not its coolness more; and fevered limbs, +Seeking the fresh tides of their youth, may find +No more refreshment, but a cauldron fired +With the fires of nether hell; and a black rage +Usurps the soul, and drives it on to slake +Its thirst with crime and blood. + Longing Desire! +Unsatisfied, sick, impotent Desire! +Oh, I have known it ages long. I knew +Its pain on earth ere yet my life had grown +To its full stature, thro' the weary years +Of manhood, nay, in age itself; I knew +The quenchless weary thirst, unsatisfied +By all the charms of sense, by wealth and power +And homage; always craving, never quenched-- +The undying curse of the soul! The ministers +And agents of my will drave far and wide +Through all the land for me, seeking to find +Fresh pleasures for me, who had spent my sum +Of pleasure, and had power, not even in thought, +Nor faculty to enjoy. They tore apart +The sacred claustral doors of home for me, +Defiled the inviolate hearth for me, laid waste +The flower of humble lives, in hope to heal +The sickly fancies of the king, till rose +A cry of pain from all the land; and I +Grew happier for it, since I held the power +To quench desire in blood. + But even thus +The old pain faded not, but swift again +Revived; and thro' the sensual dull lengths +Of my seraglios I stalked, and marked +The glitter of the gems, the precious webs +Plundered from every clime by cruel wars +That strewed the sands with corpses; lovely eyes +That looked no look of love, and fired no more +Thoughts of the flesh; rich meats, and fruits, and wines +Grown flat and savourless; and loathed them all, +And only cared for power; content to shed +Rivers of innocent blood, if only thus +I might appease my thirst. Until I grew +A monster gloating over blood and pain. + + Ah, weary, weary days, when every sense +Was satisfied, and nothing left to slake +The parched unhappy soul, except to watch +The writhing limbs and mark the slow blood drip, +Drop after drop, as the life ebbed with it; +In a new thrill of lust, till blood itself +Palled on me, and I knew the fiend I was, +Yet cared not--I who was, brief years ago, +Only a careless boy lapt round with ease, +Stretched by the soft and stealing tide of sense +Which now grew red; nor ever dreamed at all +What Furies lurked beneath it, but had shrunk +In indolent horror from the sight of tears +And misery, and felt my inmost soul +Sicken with the thought of blood. There comes a time +When the insatiate brute within the man, +Weary with wallowing in the mire, leaps forth +Devouring, and the cloven satyr-hoof +Grows to the rending claw, and the lewd leer +To the horrible fanged snarl, and the soul sinks +And leaves the man a devil, all his sin +Grown savourless, and yet he longs to sin +And longs in vain for ever. + Yet, methinks, +It was not for the gods to leave me thus. +I stinted not their worship, building shrines +To all of them; the Goddess of Love I served +With hecatombs, letting the fragrant fumes +Of incense and the costly steam ascend +From victims year by year; nay, my own son +Pelops, my best beloved, I gave to them +Offering, as he must offer who would gain +The great gods' grace, my dearest. + I had gained +Through long and weary orgies that strange sense +Of nothingness and wasted days which blights +The exhausted life, bearing upon its front +Counterfeit knowledge, when the bitter ash +Of Evil, which the sick soul loathes, appears +Like the pure fruit of Wisdom. I had grown +As wizards seem, who mingle sensual rites +And forms impure with murderous spells and dark +Enchantments; till the simple people held +My very weakness wisdom, and believed +That in my blood-stained palace-halls, withdrawn, +I kept the inner mysteries of Zeus +And knew the secret of all Being; who was +A sick and impotent wretch, so sick, so tired, +That even bloodshed palled. + For my stained soul, +Knowing its sin, hastened to purge itself +With every rite and charm which the dark lore +Of priestcraft offered to it. Spells obscene, +The blood of innocent babes, sorceries foul +Muttered at midnight--these could occupy +My weary days; till all my people shrank +To see me, and the mother clasped her child +Who heard the monster pass. + They would not hear. +They listened not--the cold ungrateful gods-- +For all my supplications; nay, the more +I sought them were they hidden. + At the last +A dark voice whispered nightly: 'Thou, poor wretch, +That art so sick and impotent, thyself +The source of all thy misery, the great gods +Ask a more precious gift and excellent +Than alien victims which thou prizest not +And givest without a pang. But shouldst thou take +Thy costliest and fairest offering, +'Twere otherwise. The life which thou hast given +Thou mayst recall. Go, offer at the shrine +Thy best beloved Pelops, and appease +Zeus and the averted gods, and know again +The youth and joy of yore.' + Night after night, +While all the halls were still, and the cold stars +Were fading into dawn, I lay awake +Distraught with warring thoughts, my throbbing brain +Filled with that dreadful voice. I had not shrunk +From blood, but this, the strong son of my youth-- +How should I dare this thing? And all day long +I would steal from sight of him and men, and fight +Against the dreadful thought, until the voice +Seared all my burning brain, and clamoured, 'Kill! +Zeus bids thee, and be happy.' Then I rose +At midnight, when the halls were still, and raised +The arras, and stole soft to where my son +Lay sleeping. For one moment on his face +And stalwart limbs I gazed, and marked the rise +And fall of his young breast, and the soft plume +Which drooped upon his brow, and felt a thrill +Of yearning; but the cold voice urging me +Burned me like fire. Three times I gazed and turned +Irresolute, till last it thundered at me, +'Strike, fool! thou art in hell; strike, fool! and lose +The burden of thy chains.' Then with slow step +I crept as creeps the tiger on the deer, +Raised high my arm, shut close my eyes, and plunged +My dagger in his heart. + And then, with a flash, +The veil fell downward from my life and left +Myself to me--the daily sum of sense-- +The long continual trouble of desire-- +The stain of blood blotting the stain of lust-- +The weary foulness of my days, which wrecked +My heart and brain, and left me at the last +A madman and accursed; and I knew, +Far higher than the sensual slope which held +The gods whom erst I worshipped, a white peak +Of Purity, and a stern voice pealing doom-- +Not the mad voice of old--which pierced so deep +Within my life, that with the reeking blade +Wet with the heart's blood of my child I smote +My guilty heart in twain. + Ah! fool, to dream +That the long stain of time might fade and merge +In one poor chrism of blood. They taught of yore, +My priests who flattered me--nor knew at all +The greater God I know, who sits afar +Beyond those earthly shapes, passionless, pure, +And awful as the Dawn--that the gods cared +For costly victims, drinking in the steam +Of sacrifice when the choice hecatombs +Were offered for my wrong. Ah no! there is +No recompense in these, nor any charm +To cleanse the stain of sin, but the long wear +Of suffering, when the soul which seized too much +Of pleasure here, grows righteous by the pain +That doth redress its ill. For what is Right +But equipoise of Nature, alternating +The Too Much and Too Little? Not on earth +The salutary silent forces work +Their final victory, but year on year +Passes, and age on age, and leaves the debt +Unsatisfied, while the o'erburdened soul +Unloads itself in pain. + Therefore it is +I suffer as I suffered ere swift death +Set me not free, no otherwise; and yet +There comes a healing purpose in my pain +I never knew on earth; nor ever here +The once-loved evil grows, only the tale +Of penalties grown greater hourly dwarfs +The accomplished sum of wrong. And yet desire +Pursues me still--sick, impotent desire, +Fiercer than that of earth. + We are ourselves +Our heaven and hell, the joy, the penalty, +The yearning, the fruition. Earth is hell +Or heaven, and yet not only earth; but still, +After the swift soul leaves the gates of death, +The pain grows deeper and less mixed, the joy +Purer and less alloyed, and we are damned +Or blest, as we have lived." + He ceased, with a wail +Like some complaining wind among the pines +Or pent among the fretful ocean caves, +A sick, sad sound. + Then as I looked, I saw +His eyes glare horribly, his dry parched lips +Open, his weary hands stretch idly forth +As if to clutch the air--infinite pain +And mockery of hope. "Seest thou them now?" +He said. "I thirst, I parch, I famish, yet +They still elude me, fair and tempting fruit +And cooling waters. Now they come again. +See, they are in my grasp, they are at my lips, +Now I shall quench me. Nay, again they fly +And mock me. Seest thou them, or am I shut +From hope for ever, hungering, thirsting still, +A madman and in Hell?" + And as I passed +In horror, his large eyes and straining hands +Froze all my soul with pity. + + + + + Then it was +A woman whom I saw: a dark pale Queen, +With passion in her eyes, and fear and pain +Holding her steadfast gaze, like one who sees +Some dreadful deed of wrong worked out and knows +Himself the cause, yet now is powerless +To stay the wrong he would. + Seeing me gaze +In pity on her woe, she turned and spake +With a low wailing voice-- + "Thou well mayst gaze +With horror on me, sir, for I am lost; +I have shed the innocent blood, long years ago, +Nay, centuries of pain. I have shed the blood +Of him I loved, and found for recompense +But self-inflicted death and age-long woe, +Which purges not my sin. And yet not I +It was who did it, but the gods, who took +A woman's loveless heart and tortured it +With love as with a fire. It was not I +Who slew my love, but Fate. Fate 'twas which brought +My love and me together, Fate which barred +The path of blameless love, yet set Love's flame +To burn and smoulder in a hopeless heart, +Where no relief might come. + The King was old, +And I a girl. 'Tis an old tale which runs +Thro' the sad ages, and 'twas mine. He had spent +His sum of love long since, and I--I knew not +A breath of Love as yet. Ah, it is strange +To lose the sense of maidenhood, drink deep +Of life to the very dregs, and yet not know +A flutter of Love's wing. Love takes no thought +For pomp, or palace, or respect of men; +Nor always in the stately marriage bed, +Closed round by silken curtains, laid on down, +Nestles a rosy form; but 'mid wild flowers +Or desert tents, or in the hind's low cot, +Beneath the aspect of the unconscious stars, +Dwells all night and is blest. + My love, my life! +He was the old man's son, a fair white soul-- +Not like the others, whom the fire of youth +Burns like a flame and hurries unrestrained +Thro' riotous days and nights, but virginal +And pure as any maid. No wandering glance +He deigned for all the maidens young and fair +Who sought their Prince's eye. But evermore, +Upon the high lawns wandering alone, +He dwelt unwed; weaving to Artemis, +Fairest of all Olympian maids, a wreath +From the unpolluted meads, where never herd +Drives his white flock, nor ever scythe has come, +But the bee sails upon unfettered wing +Over the spring-like lawns, and Purity +Waters them with soft dews;[1] and yet he showed +Of all his peers most manly--heart and soul +A very man, tender and true, and strong +And pitiful, and in his limbs and mien +Fair as Apollo's self. + It was at first +In Troezen that I saw him, when he came +To greet his sire. Amid the crowd of youths +He showed a Prince indeed; yet knew I not +Whom 'twas I saw, nor that I held the place +Which was his mother's, only from the throng +Love, with a barbed dart aiming, pierced my heart +Ere yet I knew what ailed me. Every glance +Fired me; the youthful grace, the tall straight limbs, +The swelling sinewy arms, the large dark eyes +Tender yet full of passion, the thick locks +Tossed from his brow, the lip and cheek which bore +The down of early manhood, seemed to feed +My heart with short-lived joy. + For when he stood +Forth from the throng and knelt before his sire, +Then raised his eyes to mine, I felt the curse +Of Aphrodite burn me, as it burned +My mother before me, and I dared not meet +His innocent, frank young eyes. + Said I then young? +Ay, but not young as mine. For I had known +The secret things of life, which age the soul +In a moment, writing on its front their mark +'Too early ripe;' and he was innocent, +My spouse in fitted years, within whose arms +I had defied the world. + I turned away +Like some white bird that leaves the flock, which sails +High in mid air above the haunts of men, +Feeling some little dart within her breast, +Not death, but like to death, and slowly sinks +Down to the earth alone, and bears her hurt +Unseen, by herbless sand and bitter pool, +And pines until the end. + Even from that day +I strove to gain his love. Nay, 'twas not I, +But the cruel gods who drove me. Day by day +We were together; for in days of old +Women were free, not pent in gilded jails +As afterwards, but free to walk alone, +For good or evil, free. I hardly took +Thought for my spouse, the King. For I had found +My love at last: what matter if it were +A guilty love? Yet love is love indeed, +Stronger than heaven or hell. Day after day +I set myself to tempt him from his proud +And innocent way, for I had spurned aside +Care for the gods or men--all but my love. + + What need to tell the tale? Was it a sigh, +A blush, a momentary glance, which brought +Assurance of my triumph? It is long +Since I have lived, I cannot tell; I know +Only the penalty of death and hell +Which followed on my sin. I knew he loved. +It was not wonderful, seeing that we dwelt +A boy and girl together. I was fair, +And Eros fired my eyes and lent my voice +His own soft tremulous tones. But when our souls +Trembled upon the verge, and fancy feigned +His arms around me as we fled alone +To some free land of exile, lo! a scroll: +'Dearest, it may not be; I fear the Gods; +We dare not do this wrong. I go from hence +And see thy face no more. Farewell! Forget +The love we may not own; go, seek for both +Forgiveness from the gods.' + When I read the words, +The cruel words, methought my heart stood still, +And when the ebbing life returned I seemed +To have lost all thought of Love. Only Revenge +Dwelt with me still, the fiercer that I knew +My long-prized hope, which came so near success, +Snatched from me and for ever. + When I rose +From my deep swoon, I bade a messenger +Go, seek the King for me. He came and sate +Beside my couch, and all the doors were closed, +And all withdrawn. Then with the liar's art, +And hypocrite tears, and feigned reluctancy, +And all the subtle wiles a woman draws +From the armoury of hate, I did instil +The poison to his soul. Cunning devices, +Feigned sorrow, mention of his son, regrets, +And half confessions--these, with hateful skill +Confused together, drove the old man's soul +To frenzy; and I watched him, with a sneer, +Turn to a dotard thirsting for the life +Of his own child. But how to do the deed, +Yet shed no blood, nor know the people's hate, +Who loved the Prince, I knew not. + Till one day +The old man, looking out upon the sea, +Besought the dread Poseidon to avenge +The treachery of his son. Even as we stood +Gazing upon the breathless blue, a cloud +Rose from the deep, a little fleecy cloud, +Which sudden grew and grew, and turned the blue +To purple; and a swift wind rose and sang +Higher and higher, and the wine-dark sea +Grew ruffled, and within the circling bay +The tiny ripples, stealing up the sand, +Plunged loud with manes of foam, until they swelled +To misty surges thundering on the shore. + + Then at the old man's elbow as I stood, +A deep dark thought, sent by the powers of ill, +Answering, as now I know, my own black hate +And not my poor dupe's anger, fired my soul +And bade me speak. 'The god has heard thy prayer,' +I whispered; 'See the surge which wakes and swells +To fury; well I know what things shall be. +It is Poseidon's voice sounds in the storm +And sends thy vengeance. Young Hippolytus +Loves, as thou knowest, on the yellow sand, +Hard by the rippled margin of the wave, +To urge his flying steeds. Bid him go forth-- +He will obey--and see what recompense +The god will send his wrong.' + In the old man's eyes +A watery gleam of malice played awhile-- +I hated him for it--and he bade his son +Drive forth his chariot on the sand, and yoke +His three young fiery steeds. + And still the storm +Blew fiercer and more fierce, and the white crests +Plunged on the strand, and the high promontories +Resounded counter-stricken, and a mist +Of foam, blown landward, hid the sounding shore. + + Then saw I him come forth and bid them yoke +His untamed colts. I had not seen his face +Since that last day, but, seeing him, I felt +The old love spring anew, yet mixed with hate-- +A storm of warring passions. Tho' I knew +What end should come, yet would I speak no word +That might avert it. The old man looked forth; +I think he had well-nigh forgotten all +The wrong he fancied and the doom he prayed, +All but the father's pride in the strong son, +Who was so young and bold. I saw a smile +Upon the dotard's face, when now the steeds +Were harnessed and the chariot, on the sand +Along the circling margin of the bay, +Flew, swift as light. A sudden gleam of sun +Flashed on the silver harness as it went, +Burned on the brazen axles of the wheels, +And on the golden fillets of the Prince +Doubled the gold. Sometimes a larger wave +Would dash in mist around him, and in fear +The rearing coursers plunged, and then again +The strong young arm constrained them, and they flashed +To where the wave-worn foreland ends the bay. + + And then he turned his chariot, a bright speck +Now seen, now hidden, but always, tho' the surge +Broke round it, safe; emerging like a star +From the white clouds of foam. And as I watched, +Speaking no word, and breathing scarce a breath, +I saw the firm limbs strongly set apart +Upon the chariot, and the reins held high, +And the proud head bent forward, with long locks +Streaming behind, as nearer and more near +The swift team rushed--until, with a half joy, +It seemed as if my love might yet elude +The slow sure anger of the god, dull wrath +Swayed by a woman's lie. + But on the verge, +As I cast my eyes, a vast and purple wall +Swelled swiftly towards the land; the lesser waves +Sank as it came, and to its toppling crest +The spume-flecked waters, from the strand drawn back, +Left dry the yellow shore. Onward it came, +Hoarse, capped with breaking foam, lurid, immense, +Rearing its dreadful height. The chariot sped +Nearer and nearer. I could see my love +With the light of victory in his eyes, the smile +Of daring on his lips: so near he came +To where the marble palace-wall confined +The narrow strip of beach--his brave young eyes +Fixed steadfast on the goal, in the pride of life, +Without a thought of death. I strove to cry, +But terror choked my breath. Then, like a bull +Upon the windy level of the plain +Lashing himself to rage, the furious wave, +Poising itself a moment, tossing high +Its wind-vexed crest, dashed downward on the strand +With a stamp, with a rush, with a roar. + And when I looked, +The shore, the fields, the plain, were one white sea +Of churning, seething foam--chariot and steeds +Gone, and my darling on the wave's white crest +Tossed high, whirled down, beaten, and bruised, and flung, +Dying upon the marble. + + My great love +Sprang up redoubled, and cast out my hate +And spurned all thought of fear; and down the stair +I hurried, and upon the bleeding form +I threw myself, and raised his head, and clasped +His body to mine, and kissed him on the lips, +And in his dying ear confessed my wrong, +And saw the horror in his dying eyes +And knew that I was damned. And when he breathed +His last pure breath, I rose and slowly spake-- +Turned to a Fury now by love and pain-- +To the old man who knelt, while all the throng +Could hear my secret: 'See, thou fool, I am +The murderess of thy son, and thou my dupe, +Thou and thy gods. See, he was innocent; +I murdered him for love. I scorn ye all, +Thee and thy gods together, who are deceived +By a woman's lying tongue! Oh, doting fool, +To hate thy own! And ye, false powers, which punish +The innocent, and let the guilty soul +Escape unscathed, I hate ye all--I curse, +I loathe you!' + Then I stooped and kissed my love, +And left them in amaze; and up the stair +Swept slowly to my chamber, and therein, +Hating my life and cursing men and gods, +I did myself to death. + But even here, +I find my punishment. Oh, dreadful doom +Of souls like mine! To see their evil done +Always before their eyes, the one dread scene +Of horror. See, the dark wave on the verge +Towers horrible, and he---- Oh, Love, my Love! +Safety is near! quick! quicker! urge them on! +Thou wilt 'scape it yet!--Nay, nay, it bursts on him! +I have shed the innocent blood! Oh, dreadful gaze +Within his glazing eyes! Hide them, ye gods! +Hide them! I cannot bear them. Quick! a dagger! +I will lose their glare in death. Nay, die I cannot; +I must endure and live--Death brings not peace +To the lost souls in Hell." + And her eyes stared, +Rounded with horror, and she stooped and gazed +So eagerly, and pressed her fevered hands +Upon her trembling forehead with such pain +As drives the gazer mad. + + + + + Then as I passed, +I marked against the hardly dawning sky +A toilsome figure standing, bent and strained, +Before a rocky mass, which with great pain +And agony of labour it would thrust +Up a steep hill. But when upon the crest +It poised a moment, then I held my breath +With dread, for, lo! the poor feet seemed to clutch +The hillside as in fear, and the poor hands +With hopeless fingers pressed into the stone +In agony, and the limbs stiffened, and a cry +Like some strong swimmer's, whom the mightier stream +Sweeps downward, and he sees his children's eyes +Upon the bank; broke from him; and at last, +After long struggles of despair, the limbs +Relaxed, and as I closed my fearful eyes, +Seeing the inevitable doom--a crash, +A horrible thunderous noise, as down the steep +The shameless fragment leapt. From crag to crag +It bounded ever swifter, striking fire +And wrapt in smoke, as to the lowest depths +Of the vale it tore, and seemed to take with it +The miserable form whose painful gaze +I caught, as with the great rock whirled and dashed +Downward, and marking every crag with gore +And long gray hairs, it plunged, yet living still, +To the black hollow; and then a silence came +More dreadful than the noise, and a low groan +Was all that I could hear. + When to the foot +Of the dark steep I hurried, half in hope +To find the victim dead--not recognizing +The undying life of Hell--I seemed to see +An aged man, bruised, bleeding, with gray hairs, +And eyes from which the cunning leer of greed +Was scarcely yet gone out. + A crafty voice +It was that answered me, the voice of guile +Part purified by pain: + "There comes not death +To those who live in Hell, nor hardly pause +Of suffering longer than may serve to make +The pain renewed, more piercing. Long ago, +I thought that I had cheated Death, and now +I seek him; but he comes not, nor know I +If ever he will hear me. Whence art thou? +Comest thou from earthly air, or whence? What power +Has brought thee hither? For I know indeed +Thou art not lost as I; for never here +I look upon a human face, nor see +The ghosts who doubtless here on every side +Suffer a common pain, only at times +I hear the echo of a shriek far off, +Like some faint ghost of woe which fills the pause +And interval of suffering; but from whom +The voice may come, or whence, I know not, only +The air teems with vague pain, which doth distract +The ear when for a moment comes surcease +Of agony, and the sense of effort spent +In vain and fruitless labour, and the pang +Of long-deferred defeat, which waits and takes +The world-worn heart, and maddens it when all-- +Heaven, conscience, happiness, are staked and lost +For gains which still elude it. + Yet 'twas sweet, +A King in early youth, when pleasure is sweet, +To live the fair successful years, and know +The envy and respect of men. I cared +For none of youth's delights: the dance, the song, +Allured me not; the smooth soft ways of sense +Tempted me not at all. I could despise +The follies that I shared not, spending all +The long laborious days in toilsome schemes +To compass honour and wealth, and, as I grew +In name and fame, finding my hoarded gains +Transmuted into Power. The seas were white +With laden argosies, and all were mine. +The sheltering moles defied the wintry storms, +And all were mine. The marble aqueducts, +The costly bridges, all were mine. Fair roads +Wound round and round the hills--my work. The gods +Alone I heeded not, nor cared at all +For aught but that my eyes and ears might take, +Spurning invisible things, nor built I to them +Temple or shrine, wrapt up in life, set round +With earthly blessings like a god. I rose +To such excess of weal and fame and pride, +My people held me god-like. I grew drunk +With too great power, scoffing at men and gods, +Careless of both, but not averse to fling +To those too weak themselves, what benefits +My larger wisdom spurned. + Then suddenly +I knew the pain of failure. Summer storms +Sucked down my fleets even within sight of port. +A grievous blight wasted the harvest-fields, +Mocking my hopes of gain. Wars came and drained +My store, and I grew needy, knowing now +The hell of stronger souls, the loss of power +Wherein they exulted once. There comes no pain +Deeper than to have known delight of power, +And then to lose it all. But I, I would not +Sit tame beneath defeat, trimming my sails +To wait the breeze of Fortune--fickle breath +Which perhaps might breathe no more--but chose instead +By rash conceit and bolder enterprise +To win her aid again. I had no thought +Of selfish gain, only to be and act +As a god to those, feeding my sum of pride +With acted good. + But evermore defeat +Dogged me, and evermore my people grew +To doubt me, seeing no more the wealth, the force, +Which once they worshipped. Then the lust of power +Loved, not for sake of others, but itself, +Grew on me, and the pride which can dare all, +Save failure only, seized me. Evil finds +Its ready chance. There were rich argosies +Upon the seas: I sank them, ship and crew, +In the unbetraying ocean. Wayfarers +Crossing the passes with rich merchandise +My creatures, hid behind the crags, o'erwhelmed +With rocks hurled downward. Yet I spent my gains +For the public weal, not otherwise; and they, +The careless people, took the piteous spoils +Which cost the lives of many, and a man's soul, +And blessed the giver. Empty venal blessings, +Which sting more deep than curses! + For awhile +I was content with this, but at the last +A great contempt and hatred of them took me, +The base, vile churls! Why should I stain my soul +For such as those--dogs that would fawn and lick +The hand that fed them, but, if food should fail, +Would turn and rend me? I would none of them; +I would grow rich and happy, being indeed +Godlike in brain to such. So with all craft, +And guile, and violence I enriched me, loading +My treasuries with gold. My deep-laid schemes +Of gain engrossed the long laborious days, +Stretched far into the night. Enjoy, I might not, +Seeing it was all to do, and life so brief +That ere a man might gain the goal he would, +Lo! Age, and with it Death, and so an end! +For all the tales of the indignant gods, +What were they but the priests'? I had myself +Broken all oaths; long time deceived and ruined +With every phase of fraud the pious fools +Whom oath-sworn Justice bound; battened on blood +And what was I the worse? How should the gods +Bear rule if I were happy? Death alone +Was certain. Therefore must I haste to heap +Treasure sufficient for my need, and then +Enjoy the gathered good. + But gradually +There came--not great disasters which might crush +All hope, but petty checks which did decrease +My store, and left my labour vain, and me +Unwilling to enjoy; and gradually +I felt the chill approach of age, which stole +Higher and higher on me, till the life, +As in a paralytic, left my limbs +And heart, and mounted upwards to my brain, +Its last resort, and rested there awhile +Ere it should spread its wings. But even thus, +Tho' powerless to enjoy, the insatiate greed +And thirst of power sustained me, and supplied +Life's spark with some scant fuel, till it seemed, +Year after year, as if I could not die, +Holding so fast to life. I grew so old +That all the comrades of my youth, my prime, +My age, were gone, and I was left alone +With those who knew me not, bereft of all +Except my master passion--an old man +Forlorn, forgotten of the gods and Death. + + So all the people, seeing me grow old +And prosperous, held me wise, and spread abroad +Strange fables, growing day by day more strange-- +How I deceived the very gods. They thought +That I was blest, remembering not the wear +Of anxious thought, the growing sum of pain, +The failing ear and eye, the slower limbs, +Whose briefer name is Age: and yet I trow +I was not all unhappy, though I knew +It was too late to enjoy, and though my store +Increased not as my greed--nay, even sunk down +A little, year by year. Till, last of all, +When now my time was come and I had grown +A little tired of living, a trivial hurt +Laid me upon my bed; and as I mused +On my long life and all its villanies, +The wickedness I did, the blood I shed, +The guile, the frauds of years--they came with news, +One now, and now another; how my schemes +Were crushed, my enterprises lost, my toil +And labour all in vain. Day after day +They brought these tidings, while I longed to rise +And stay the tide of ill, and raved to know +I could not. At the last the added sum +Of evil, like yon great rock poised awhile +Uncertain, gathered into one, o'erwhelmed +My feeble strength, and left me ruined and lost, +And showed me all I was, and all the depth +And folly of my sin, and racked my brain, +And sank me in despair and misery, +And broke my heart and slew me. + Therefore 'tis +I spend the long, long centuries which have come +Between me and my sin, in such dread tasks +As that thou sawest. In the soul I sinned: +In body and soul I suffer. What I bade +My minions do to others, that of woe +I bear myself; and in the pause of ill, +As now, I know again the bitter pang +Of failure, which of old pierced thro' my soul +And left me to despair. The pain of mind +Is fiercer far than any bodily ill, +And both are mine--the pang of torture-pain +Always recurring; and, far worse, the pang +Of consciousness of black sins sinned in vain-- +The doom of constant failure. + Will, fierce Will! +Thou parent of unrest and toil and woe, +Measureless effort! growing day by day +To force strong souls along the giddy steep +That slopes to the pit of Hell, where effort serves +Only to speed destruction! Yet I know +Thou art not, as some hold, the primal curse +Which doth condemn us; since thou bearest in thee +No power to satisfy thyself; but rather, +The spring of act, whereby in earth and heaven +Both men and gods do breathe and live and are, +Since Life is Act and not to Do is Death-- +I do not blame thee: but to work in vain +Is bitterest penalty: to find at last +The soul all fouled with sin and stained with blood +In vain; ah, this is hell indeed--the hell +Of lost and striving souls!" + Then as I passed, +The halting figure bent itself again +To the old task, and up the rugged steep +Thrust the great rock with groanings. Horror chained +My parting footsteps, like a nightmare dream +Which holds us that we flee not, with wide eyes +That loathe to see, yet cannot choose but gaze +Till all be done. Slowly, with dreadful toil +And struggle and strain, and bleeding hands and knees, +And more than mortal strength, against the hill +He pressed, the wretched one! till with long pain +He trembled on the summit, a gaunt form, +With that great rock above him, poised and strained, +Now gaining, now receding, now in act +To win the summit, now borne down again, +And then the inevitable crash--the mass +Leaping from crag to crag. But ere it ceased +In dreadful silence, and the low groan came, +My limbs were loosed with one convulsive bound; +I hid my face within my hands, and fled, +Surfeit with horror. + + + + + Then it was again +A woman whom I saw, pitiless, stern, +Bearing the brand of blood--a lithe dark form, +And cruel eyes which glared beneath the gems +That argued her a Queen, and on her side +An ancient stain of gore, which did befoul +Her royal robe. A murderess in thought +And dreadful act, who took within the toils +Her kingly Lord, and slew him of old time +After burnt Troy. I had no time to speak +When she shrieked thus: + "It doth repent me not +I would 'twere yet to do, and I would do it +Again a thousand times, if the shed blood +Might for one hour restore me to the kisses +Of my AEgisthus. Oh, he was divine, +My hero, with the godlike locks and eyes +Of Eros' self! What boots it that they prate +Of wifely duty, love of spouse or child, +Honour or pity, when the swift fire takes +A woman's heart, and burns it out, and leaps +With fierce forked tongue around it, till it lies +In ashes, a dead heart, nor aught remains +Of old affections, naught but the new flame +Which is unquenched desire? + It did not come, +My blessing, all at once, but the slow fruit +Of solitude and midnight loneliness, +And weary waiting for the tardy news +Of taken Troy. Long years I sate alone, +Widowed, within my palace, while my Lord +Was over seas, waging the accursed war, +First of the file of Kings. Year after year +Came false report, or harder, no report +Of the great fleet. The summers waxed and waned, +The wintry surges smote the sounding shores, +And yet there came no end of it. They brought +Now hopeless failure, now great victories; +And all alike were false, all but delay +And hope deferred, which cometh not, but breaks +The heart which suffering wrings not. + So I bore +Long time the solitary years, and sought +To solace the dull days with motherly cares +For those my Lord had left me. My firstborn, +Iphigeneia, sailed at first with him +Upon that fatal voyage, but the young +Orestes and Electra stayed with me-- +Not dear as she was, for the firstborn takes +The mother's heart, and, with the milk it draws +From the mother's virgin breast, drains all the love +It bore, ay, even tho' the sire be dear; +Much more, then, when he is a King indeed, +Mighty in war and council, but too high +To stoop to a woman's love. But she was gone, +Nor heard I tidings of her, knowing not +If yet she walked the earth, nor if she bare +The load of children, even as I had borne +Her in my opening girlhood, when I leapt +From child to Queen, but never loved the King. + + Thus the slow years rolled onward, till at last +There came a dreadful rumour--'She is dead, +Thy daughter, years ago. The cruel priests +Clamoured for blood; the stern cold Kings stood round +Without a tear, and he, her sire, with them, +To see a virgin bleed. They cut with knives +The taper girlish throat; they watched the blood +Drip slowly on the sand, and the young life +Meek as a lamb come to the sacrifice +To appease the angry gods.' And he, the King, +Her father, stood by too, and saw them do it, +The wickedness, breathing no word of wrath, +Till all was done! The cowards! the dull cowards! +I would some black storm, bursting suddenly, +Had whelmed them and their fleets, ere yet they dared +To waste an innocent life! + I had gone mad, +I know it, but for him, my love, my dear, +My fair sweet love. He came to comfort me +With words of friendship, holding that my Lord +Was bound, perhaps, to let her die--'The gods +Were ofttimes hard to appease--or was it indeed +The priests who asked it? Were there any gods? +Or only phantoms, creatures of the brain, +Born of the fears of men, the greed of priests, +Useful to govern women? Had he been +Lord of the fleet, not all the soothsayers +Who ever frighted cowards should have brought +His soul to such black depths.' I hearkening to him +As 'twere my own thought grown articulate, +Found my grief turn to hate, and hate to love-- +Hate of my Lord, love of the voice which spoke +Such dear and comfortable words. And thus, +Love to a storm of passion growing, swept +My wounded soul and dried my tears, as dries +The hot sirocco all the bitter pools +Of salt among the sand. I never knew +True love before; I was a child, no more, +When the King cast his eyes on me. What is it +To have borne the weight of offspring 'neath the zone, +If Love be not their sire; or live long years +Of commerce, not of love? Better a day +Of Passion than the long unlovely years +Of wifely duty, when Love cometh not +To wake the barren days! + And yet at first +I hesitated long, nor would embrace +The blessing that was mine. We are hedged round, +We women, by such close-drawn ordinances, +Set round us by our tyrants, that we fear +To overstep a hand's breadth the dull bounds +Of custom; but at last Love, waking in me, +Burst all my chains asunder, and I lived +For naught but Love. + My son, the young Orestes, +I sent far off; my girl Electra only +Remained, too young to doubt me, and I knew +At last what 'twas to live. + So the swift years +Fleeted and found me happy, till the dark +Ill-omened day when Rumour, thousand-tongued, +Whispered of taken Troy; and from my dream +Of happiness, sudden I woke, and knew +The coming retribution. We had grown +Too loving for concealment, and our tale +Of mutual love was bruited far and wide +Through Argos. All the gossips bruited it, +And were all tongue to tell it to the King +When he should come. And should the cold proud Lord +I never loved, the murderer of my girl, +Come 'twixt my love and me? A swift resolve +Flashed through me pondering on it: Love for Love +And Blood for Blood--the simple golden rule +Taught by the elder gods. + When I had taken +My fixed resolve, I grew impatient for it, +Counting the laggard days. Oh, it was sweet +To simulate the yearning of a wife +Long parted from her Lord, and mock the fools +Who dogged each look and word, and but for fear +Had torn me from my throne--the pies, the jays, +The impotent chatterers, who thought by words +To stay me in the act! 'Twas sweet to mock them +And read distrust within their eyes, when I, +Knowing my purpose, bade them quick prepare +All fitting honours for the King, and knew +They dared not disobey--oh, 'twas enough +To wing the slow-paced hours. + But when at last +I saw his sails upon the verge, and then +The sea-worn ship, and marked his face grown old, +The body a little bent, which was so straight, +The thin gray hairs which were the raven locks +Of manhood when he went, I felt a moment +I could not do the deed. But when I saw +The beautiful sad woman come with him, +The future in her eyes, and her sad voice +Proclaimed the tale of doom, two thoughts at once +Assailed me, bidding me despatch with a blow +Him and his mistress, making sure the will +Of fate, and my revenge. + Oh, it was strange +To see all happen as we planned; as 'twere +Some drama oft rehearsed, wherein each step, +Each word, is so prepared, the poorest player +Knows his turn come to do--the solemn landing-- +The ride to the palace gate--the courtesies +Of welcome--the mute crowds without--the bath +Prepared within--the precious circling folds +Of tissue stretched around him, shutting out +The gaze, and folding helpless like a net +The mighty limbs--the battle-axe laid down +Against the wall, and I, his wife and Queen, +Alone with him, waiting and watching still, +Till the woman shrieked without. Then with swift step +I seized the axe, and struck him as he lay +Helpless, once, twice, and thrice--once for my girl, +Once for my love, once for the woman, and all +For Fate and my Revenge! + He gave a groan, +Once only, as I thought he might; and then +No sound but the quick gurgling of the blood, +As it flowed from him in streams, and turned the pure +And limpid water of the bath to red-- +I had not looked for that--it flowed and flowed, +And seemed to madden me to look on it, +Until my love with hands bloody as mine, +But with the woman's blood, rushed in, and eyes +Rounded with horror; and we turned to go, +And left the dead alone. + But happiness +Still mocked me, and a doubt unknown before +Came on me, and amid the silken shows +And luxury of power I seemed to see +Another answer to my riddle of life +Than that I gave myself, and it was 'murder;' +And in my people's sullen mien and eyes, +'Murder;' and in the mirror, when I looked, +'Murder' glared out, and terror lest my son +Returning, grown to manhood, should avenge +His father's blood. For somehow, as 'twould seem, +The gods, if gods there be, or the stern Fate +Which doth direct our little lives, do filch +Our happiness--though bright with Love's own ray, +There comes a cloud which veils it. Yet, indeed, +My days were happy. I repent me not; +I would wade through seas of blood to know again +Those fierce delights once more. + But my young girl +Electra, grown to woman, turned from me +Her modest maiden eyes, nor loved to set +Her kiss upon my cheek, but, all distraught +With secret care, hid her from all the pomps +And revelries which did befit her youth, +Walking alone; and often at the tomb +Of her lost sire they found her, pouring out +Libations to the dead. And evermore +I did bethink me of my son Orestes, +Who now should be a man; and yearned sometimes +To see his face, yet feared lest from his eyes +His father's soul should smite me. + So I lived +Happy and yet unquiet--a stern voice +Speaking of doom, which long time softer notes +Of careless weal, the music that doth spring +From the fair harmonies of life and love, +Would drown in their own concord. This at times +Nay, day by day, stronger and dreadfuller, +With dominant accent, marred the sounds of joy +By one prevailing discord. So at length +I came to lose the Present in the dread +Of what might come; the penalty that waits +Upon successful sin; who, having sinned, +Had missed my sin's reward. + Until one day +I, looking from my palace casement, saw +A humble suppliant, clad in pilgrim garb, +Approach the marble stair. A sudden throb +Thrilled thro' me, and the mother's heart went forth +Thro' all disguise of garb and rank and years, +Knowing my son. How fair he was, how tall +And vigorous, my boy! What strong straight limbs +And noble port! How beautiful the shade +Of manhood on his lip! I longed to burst +From my chamber down, yearning to throw myself +Upon his neck within the palace court, +Before the guards--spurning my queenly rank, +All but my motherhood. And then a chill +Of doubt o'erspread me, knowing what a gulf +Fate set between our lives, impassable +As that great gulf which yawns 'twixt life and death +And 'twixt this Hell and Heaven. I shrank back, +And turned to think a moment, half in fear, +And half in pain; dividing the swift mind, +Yet all in love. + Then came a cry, a groan, +From the inner court, the clash of swords, the fall +Of a body on the pavement; and one cried, +'The King is dead, slain by the young Orestes, +Who cometh hither.' With the word, the door +Flew open, and my son stood straight before me, +His drawn sword dripping blood. Oh, he was fair +And terrible to see, when from his limbs, +The suppliant's mantle fallen, left the mail +And arms of a young warrior. Love and Hate, +Which are the offspring of a common sire, +Strove for the mastery, till within his eyes +I saw his father's ghost glare unappeased +From out Love's casements. + Then I knew my fate +And his--mine to be slain by my son's hand, +And his to slay me, since the Furies drave +Our lives to one destruction; and I took +His point within my breast. + But I praise not +The selfish, careless gods who wrecked our lives, +Making the King the murderer of his girl, +And me his murderess; making my son +The murderer of his mother and her love-- +A mystery of blood!--I curse them all, +The careless Forces, sitting far withdrawn +Upon the heights of Space, taking men's lives +For playthings, and deriding as in sport +Our happiness and woe--I curse them all. +We have a right to joy; we have a right, +I say, as they have. Let them stand confessed +The puppets that they are--too weak to give +The good they feign to love, since Fate, too strong +For them as us, beyond their painted sky, +Sits and derides them, too. I curse Fate too, +The deaf blind Fury, taking human souls +And crushing them, as a dull fretful child +Crushes its toys and knows not with what skill +Those feeble forms are feigned. + I curse, I loathe, +I spit on them. It doth repent me not. +I would 'twere yet to do. I have lived my life. +I have loved. See, there he lies within the bath, +And thus I smite him! thus! Didst hear him groan? +Oh, vengeance, thou art sweet! What, living still? +Ah me! we cannot die! Come, torture me, +Ye Furies--for I love not soothing words-- +As once ye did my son. Ye miserable +Blind ministers of Hell, I do defy you; +Not all your torments can undo the Past +Of Passion and of Love!" + + Even as she spake +There came a viewless trouble in the air, +Which took her, and a sweep of wings unseen, +And terrible sounds, which swooped on her and hushed +Her voice, and seemed to occupy her soul +With horror and despair; and as she passed +I marked her agonized eyes. + + + + + But as I went, +Full many a dreadful shape of lonely pain +I saw. What need to tell them? We are filled +Who live to-day with a more present sense +Of the great love of God, than those of old +Who, groping in the dawn of Knowledge, saw +Only dark shadows of the Unknown; or he, +First-born of modern singers, who swept deep +His awful lyre, and woke the voice of song, +Dumb for long centuries of pain. We dread +To dwell on those long agonies its sin +Brings on the offending soul; who hold a creed +Of deeper Pity, knowing what chains of ill +Bind round our petty lives. Each phase of woe, +Suffering, and torture which the gloomy thought +Of bigots feigns for others--all were there. +One there was stretched upon a rolling wheel, +Which was the barren round of sense, that still +Returned upon itself and broke the limbs +Bound to it day and night. Others I saw +Doomed, with unceasing toil, to fill the urns +Whose precious waters sank ere they could slake +Their burning thirst. Another shapeless soul, +Full of revolts and hates and tyrannous force, +The weight of earth, which was its earth-born taint, +Pressed groaning down, while with fierce beak and claw +The vulture of remorse, piercing his breast, +Preyed on his heart. For others, overhead, +Great crags of rock impending seemed to fall, +But fell not nor brought peace. I felt my soul +Blunted with horrors, yearning to escape +To where, upon the limits of the wood, +Some scanty twilight grew. + But ere I passed +From those grim shades a deep voice sounded near, +A voice without a form. + "There is an end +Of all things that thou seest! There is an end +Of Wrong and Death and Hell! When the long wear +Of Time and Suffering has effaced the stain +Ingrown upon the soul, and the cleansed spirit, +Long ages floating on the wandering winds +Or rolling deeps of Space, renews itself +And doth regain its dwelling, and, once more +Blent with the general order, floats anew +Upon the stream of Things,[2] and comes at length, +After new deaths, to that dim waiting-place +Thou next shalt see, and with the justified +White souls awaits the End; or, snatched at once, +If Fate so will, to the pure sphere itself, +Lives and is blest, and works the Eternal Work +Whose name and end is Love! There is an end +Of Wrong and Death and Hell!" + Even as I heard, +I passed from out the shadow of Death and Pain, +Crying, "There is an end!" + + + + + END OF BOOK I. + + + + + BOOK II. + + HADES. + + + + + Then from those dark +And dreadful precincts passing, ghostly fields +And voiceless took me. A faint twilight veiled +The leafless, shadowy trees and herbless plains. +There stirred no breath of air to wake to life +The slumbers of the world. The sky above +Was one gray, changeless cloud. There looked no eye +Of Life from the veiled heavens; but Sleep and Death +Were round me everywhere. And yet no fear +Nor horror took me here, where was no pain +Nor dread, save that strange tremor which assails +One who in life's hot noontide looks on death +And knows he too shall die. The ghosts which rose +From every darkling copse showed thin and pale-- +Thinner and paler far than those I left +In agony; even as Pity seems to wear +A thinner form than Fear. + Not caged alone +Like those the avenging Furies purged were these, +Nor that dim land as those black cavernous depths +Where no hope comes. Fair souls were they and white +Whom there I saw, waiting as we shall wait, +The Beatific End, but thin and pale +As the young faith which made them; touched a little +By the sad memories of the earth; made glad +A little by past joys: no more; and wrapt +In musing on the brief play played by them +Upon the lively earth, yet ignorant +Of the long lapse of years, and what had been +Since they too breathed Life's air, or if they knew, +Keeping some echo only; but their pain +Was fainter than their joy, and a great hope +Like ours possessed them dimly. + + + + + First I saw +A youth who pensive leaned against the trunk +Of a dark cypress, and an idle flute +Hung at his side. A sorrowful sad soul, +Such as sometimes he knows, who meets the gaze, +Mute, uncomplaining yet most pitiful, +Of one whom nature, by some secret spite, +Has maimed and left imperfect; or the pain +Which fills a poet's eyes. Beneath his robe +I seemed to see the scar of cruel stripes, +Too hastily concealed. Yet was he not +Wholly unhappy, but from out the core +Of suffering flowed a secret spring of joy, +Which mocked the droughts of Fate, and left him glad +And glorying in his sorrow. As I gazed +He raised his silent flute, and, half ashamed, +Blew a soft note; and as I stayed awhile +I heard him thus discourse-- + "The flute is sweet +To gods and men, but sweeter far the lyre +And voice of a true singer. Shall I fear +To tell of that great trial, when I strove +And Phoebus conquered? Nay, no shame it is +To bow to an immortal melody; +But glory. + Once among the Phrygian hills +I lay a-musing,--while the silly sheep +Wandered among the thyme--upon the bank +Of a clear mountain stream, beneath the pines, +Safe hidden from the noon. A dreamy haze +Played on the uplands, but the hills were clear +In sunlight, and no cloud was on the sky. +It was the time when a deep silence comes +Upon the summer earth, and all the birds +Have ceased from singing, and the world is still +As midnight, and if any live thing move-- +Some fur-clad creature, or cool gliding snake-- +Within the pipy overgrowth of weeds, +The ear can catch the rustle, and the trees +And earth and air are listening. As I lay, +Faintly, as in a dream, I seemed to hear +A tender music, like the AEolian chords, +Sound low within the woodland, whence the stream, +Flowed full, yet silent. Long, with ear to ground, +I hearkened; and the sweet strain, fuller grown, +Rounder and clearer came, and danced along +In mirthful measure now, and now grown grave +In dying falls, and sweeter and more clear, +Tripping at nuptials and high revelry, +Wailing at burials, rapt in soaring thoughts, +Chanting strange sea-tales full of mystery, +Touching all chords of being, and life and death, +Now rose, now sank, and always was divine, +So strange the music came. + Till, as I lay +Enraptured, swift a sudden discord rang, +And all the sound grew still. A sudden flash, +As from a sunlit jewel, fired the wood. +A noise of water smitten, and on the hills +A fair white fleece of cloud, which swiftly climbed +Into the farthest heaven. Then, as I mused, +Knowing a parting goddess, straight I saw +A sudden splendour float upon the stream, +And knew it for this jewelled flute, which paused +Before me on an eddy. It I snatched +Eager, and to my ardent lips I bore +The wonder, and behold, with the first breath-- +The first warm human breath, the silent strains. +The half-drowned notes which late the goddess blew, +Revived, and sounded clearer, sweeter far +Than mortal skill could make. So with delight +I left my flocks to wander o'er the wastes +Untended, and the wolves and eagles seized +The tender lambs, but I was for my art-- +Nought else; and though the high-pitched notes divine +Grew faint, yet something lingered, and at last +So sweet a note I sounded of my skill, +That all the Phrygian highlands, all the white +Hill villages, were fain to hear the strain, +Which the mad shepherd made. + So, overbold, +And rapt in my new art, at last I dared +To challenge Phoebus' self. + 'Twas a fair day +When sudden, on the mountain side, I saw +A train of fleecy clouds in a white band +Descending. Down the gleaming pinnacles +And difficult crags they floated, and the arch, +Drawn with its thousand rays against the sun, +Hung like a glory o'er them. Midst the pines +They clothed themselves with form, and straight I knew +The immortals. Young Apollo, with his lyre, +Kissed by the sun, and all the Muses clad +In robes of gleaming white; then a great fear, +Yet mixed with joy, assailed me, for I knew +Myself a mortal equalled with the gods. + + Ah me! how fair they were! how fair and dread +In face and form, they showed, when now they came +Upon the thymy slope, and the young god +Lay with his choir around him, beautiful +And bold as Youth and Dawn! There was no cloud +Upon the sky, nor any sound at all +When I began my strain. No coward fear +Of what might come restrained me; but an awe +Of those immortal eyes and ears divine +Looking and listening. All the earth seemed full +Of ears for me alone--the woods, the fields, +The hills, the skies were listening. Scarce a sound +My flute might make; such subtle harmonies +The silence seemed to weave round me and flout +The half unuttered thought. Till last I blew, +As now, a hesitating note, and lo! +The breath divine, lingering on mortal lips, +Hurried my soul along to such fair rhymes, +Sweeter than wont, that swift I knew my life +Rise up within me, and expand, and all +The human, which so nearly is divine, +Was glorified, and on the Muses' lips, +And in their lovely eyes, I saw a fair +Approval, and my soul in me was glad. + + For all the strains I blew were strains of love-- +Love striving, love triumphant, love that lies +Within beloved arms, and wreathes his locks +With flowers, and lets the world go by and sings +Unheeding; and I saw a kindly gleam +Within the Muses' eyes, who were indeed, +Women, though god-like. + But upon the face +Of the young Sun-god only haughty scorn +Sate and he swiftly struck his golden lyre, +And played the Song of Life; and lo, I knew +My strain, how earthy! Oh, to hear the young +Apollo playing! and the hidden cells +And chambers of the universe displayed +Before the charmed sound! I seemed to float +In some enchanted cave, where the wave dips +In from the sunlit sea, and floods its depths +With reflex hues of heaven. My soul was rapt +By that I heard, and dared to wish no more +For victory; and yet because the sound +Of music that is born of human breath +Comes straighter from the soul than any strain +The hand alone can make; therefore I knew, +With a mixed thrill of pity and delight, +The nine immortal Sisters hardly touched +By this fine strain of music, as by mine, +And when the high lay trembled to its close, +Still doubting. + Then upon the Sun-god's face +There passed a cold proud smile. He swept his lyre +Once more, then laid it down, and with clear voice, +The voice of godhead, sang. Oh, ecstasy, +Oh happiness of him who once has heard +Apollo singing! For his ears the sound +Of grosser music dies, and all the earth +Is full of subtle undertones, which change +The listener and transform him. As he sang-- +Of what I know not, but the music touched +Each chord of being--I felt my secret life +Stand open to it, as the parched earth yawns +To drink the summer rain; and at the call +Of those refreshing waters, all my thought +Stir from its dark and secret depths, and burst +Into sweet, odorous flowers, and from their wells +Deep call to deep, and all the mystery +Of all that is, laid open. As he sang, +I saw the Nine, with lovely pitying eyes, +Sign 'He has conquered.' Yet I felt no pang +Of fear, only deep joy that I had heard +Such music while I lived, even though it brought +Torture and death. For what were it to lie +Sleek, crowned with roses, drinking vulgar praise, +And surfeited with offerings, the dull gift +Of ignorant hands--all which I might have known-- +To this diviner failure? Godlike 'tis +To climb upon the icy ledge, and fall +Where other footsteps dare not. So I knew +My fate, and it was near. + For to a pine +They bound me willing, and with cruel stripes +Tore me, and took my life. + But from my blood +Was born the stream of song, and on its flow +My poor flute, to the cool swift river borne, +Floated, and thence adown a lordlier tide +Into the deep, wide sea. I do not blame +Phoebus, or Nature which has set this bar +Betwixt success and failure, for I know +How far high failure overleaps the bound +Of low successes. Only suffering draws +The inner heart of song and can elicit +The perfumes of the soul. 'Twere not enough +To fail, for that were happiness to him +Who ever upward looks with reverent eye +And seeks but to admire. So, since the race +Of bards soars highest; as who seek to show +Our lives as in a glass; therefore it comes +That suffering weds with song, from him of old, +Who solaced his blank darkness with his verse; +Through all the story of neglect and scorn, +Necessity, sheer hunger, early death, +Which smite the singer still. Not only those +Who keep clear accents of the voice divine +Are honourable--they are happy, indeed, +Whate'er the world has held--but those who hear +Some fair faint echoes, though the crowd be deaf, +And see the white gods' garments on the hills, +Which the crowd sees not, though they may not find +Fit music for their thought; they too are blest, +Not pitiable. Not from arrogant pride +Nor over-boldness fail they who have striven +To tell what they have heard, with voice too weak +For such high message. More it is than ease, +Palace and pomp, honours and luxuries, +To have seen white Presences upon the hills, +To have heard the voices of the Eternal Gods." + + So spake he, and I seemed to look on him, +Whose sad young eyes grow on us from the page +Of his own verse: who did himself to death: +Or whom the dullard slew: or whom the sea +Rapt from us: and I passed without a word, +Slow, grave, with many musings. + + + + + Then I came +On one a maiden, meek with folded hands, +Seated against a rugged face of cliff, +In silent thought. Anon she raised her arms, +Her gleaming arms, above her on the rock, +With hands which clasped each other, till she showed +As in a statue, and her white robe fell +Down from her maiden shoulders, and I knew +The fair form as it seemed chained to the stone +By some invisible gyves, and named her name: +And then she raised her frightened eyes to mine +As one who, long expecting some great fear, +Scarce sees deliverance come. But when she saw +Only a kindly glance, a softer look +Came in them, and she answered to my thought +With a sweet voice and low. + "I did but muse +Upon the painful past, long dead and done, +Forgetting I was saved. + The angry clouds +Burst always on the low flat plains, and swept +The harvest to the ocean; all the land +Was wasted. A great serpent from the deep, +Lifting his horrible head above their homes, +Devoured the children. And the people prayed +In vain to careless gods. + On that dear land, +Which now was turned into a sullen sea, +Gazing in safety from the stately towers +Of my sire's palace, I, a princess, saw, +Lapt in soft luxury, within my bower +The wreck of humble homes come whirling by, +The drowning, bleating flocks, the bellowing herds, +The grain scarce husbanded by toiling hands +Upon the sunlit plain, rush to the sea, +With floating corpses. On the rain-swept hills +The remnant of the people huddled close, +Homeless and starving. All my being was filled +With pity for them, and I joyed to give +What food and shelter and compassionate hands +Of woman might. I took the little ones +And clasped them shivering to the virgin breast +Which knew no other touch but theirs, and gave +Raiment and food. My sire, not stern to me, +Smiled on me as he saw. My gentle mother, +Who loved me with a closer love than binds +A mother to her son; and sunned herself +In my fresh beauty, seeing in my young eyes +Her own fair vanished youth; doted on me, +And fain had kept my eyes from the sad sights +That pained them. But my heart was sad in me, +Seeing the ineffable miseries of life, +And that mysterious anger of the gods, +And helpless to allay them. All in vain +Were prayer and supplication, all in vain +The costly victims steamed. The vengeful clouds +Hid the fierce sky, and still the ruin came. +And wallowing his grim length within the flood, +Over the ravaged fields and homeless homes, +The fell sea-monster raged, sating his jaws +With blood and rapine. + Then to the dread shrine +Of Ammon went the priests, and reverend chiefs +Of all the nation. White robed, at their head, +Went slow my royal sire. The oracle +Spoke clear, not as ofttimes in words obscure, +Ambiguous. And as we stood to meet +The suppliants--she who bare me, with her head +Upon my neck--we cheerful and with song +Welcomed their swift return; auguring well +From such a quick-sped mission. + But my sire +Hid his face from me, and the crowd of priests +And nobles looked not at us. And no word +Was spoken till at last one drew a scroll +And gave it to the queen, who straightway swooned, +Having read it, on my breast, and then I saw, +I the young girl whose soft life scarcely knew +Shadow of sorrow, I whose heart was full +Of pity for the rest, what doom was mine. + + I think I hardly knew in that dread hour +The fear that came anon; I was transformed +Into a champion of my race, made strong +With a new courage, glorying to meet, +In all the ecstasy of sacrifice, +Death face to face. Some god, I know not who, +O'erspread me, and despite my mother's tears +And my stern father's grief, I met my fate +Unshrinking. + When the moon rose clear from cloud +Once more again over the midnight sea, +And that vast watery plain, where were before +Hundreds of happy homes, and well-tilled fields, +And purple vineyards; from my father's towers +The white procession went along the paths, +The high cliff paths, which well I loved of old, +Among the myrtles. Priests with censers went +And offerings, robed in white, and round their brows +The sacred fillet. With his nobles walked +My sire with breaking heart. My mother clung +To me the victim, and the young girls went +With wailing and with tears. A solemn strain +The soft flutes sounded, as we went by night +To a wild headland, rock-based in the sea. + + There on a sea-worn rock, upon the verge, +To some rude stanchions, high above my head, +They bound me. Out at sea, a black reef rose, +Washed by the constant surge, wherein a cave +Sheltered deep down the monster. The sad queen +Would scarcely leave me, though the priests shrunk back +In terror. Last, torn from my endless kiss, +Swooning they bore her upwards. All my robe +Fell from my lifted arms, and left displayed +The virgin treasure of my breasts; and then +The white procession through the moonlight streamed +Upwards, and soon their soft flutes sounded low +Upon the high lawns, leaving me alone. + + There stood I in the moonlight, left alone +Against the sea-worn rock. Hardly I knew, +Seeing only the bright moon and summer sea, +Which gently heaved and surged, and kissed the ledge +With smooth warm tides, what fate was mine. I seemed, +Soothed by the quiet, to be resting still +Within my maiden chamber, and to watch +The moonlight thro' my lattice. Then again +Fear came, and then the pride of sacrifice +Filled me, as on the high cliff lawns I heard +The wailing cries, the chanted liturgies, +And knew me bound forsaken to the rock, +And saw the monster-haunted depths of sea. + + So all night long upon the sandy shores +I heard the hollow murmur of the wave, +And all night long the hidden sea caves made +A ghostly echo; and the sea birds mewed +Around me; once I heard a mocking laugh, +As of some scornful Nereid; once the waters +Broke louder on the scarped reefs, and ebbed +As if the monster coming; but again +He came not, and the dead moon sank, and still +Only upon the cliffs the wails, the chants, +And I forsaken on my sea-worn rock, +And lo, the monster-haunted depths of sea. + + Till at the dead dark hour before the dawn, +When sick men die, and scarcely fear itself +Bore up my weary eyelids, a great surge +Burst on the rock, and slowly, as it seemed, +The sea sucked downward to its depths, laid bare +The hidden reefs, and then before my eyes-- +Oh, horrible! a huge and loathsome snake +Lifted his dreadful crest and scaly side +Above the wave, in bulk and length so large, +Coil after hideous coil, that scarce the eye +Could measure its full horror; the great jaws +Dropped as with gore; the large and furious eyes +Were fired with blood and lust. Nearer he came, +And slowly, with a devilish glare, more near, +Till his hot foetor choked me, and his tongue, +Forked horribly within his poisonous jaws, +Played lightning-like around me. For awhile +I swooned, and when I knew my life again, +Death's bitterness was past. + Then with a bound +Leaped up the broad red sun above the sea, +And lit the horrid fulgour of his scales, +And struck upon the rock; and as I turned +My head in the last agony of death, +I knew a brilliant sunbeam swiftly leaping +Downward from crag to crag, and felt new hope +Where all was hopeless. On the hills a shout +Of joy, and on the rocks the ring of mail; +And while the hungry serpent's gloating eyes +Were fixed on me, a knight in casque of gold +And blazing shield, who with his flashing blade +Fell on the monster. Long the conflict raged, +Till all the rocks were red with blood and slime, +And yet my champion from those horrible jaws +And dreadful coils was scatheless. Zeus his sire +Protected, and the awful shield he bore +Withered the monster's life and left him cold, +Dragging his helpless length and grovelling crest: +And o'er his glaring eyes the films of death +Crept, and his writhing flank and hiss of hate +The great deep swallowed down, and blood and spume +Rose on the waves; and a strange wailing cry +Resounded o'er the waters, and the sea +Bellowed within its hollow-sounding caves. + + Then knew I, I was saved, and with me all +The people. From my wrists he loosed the gyves, +My hero; and within his godlike arms +Bore me by slippery rock and difficult path, +To where my mother prayed. There was no need +To ask my love. Without a spoken word +Love lit his fires within me. My young heart +Went forth, Love calling, and I gave him all. + + Dost thou then wonder that the memory +Of this supreme brief moment lingers still, +While all the happy uneventful years +Of wedded life, and all the fair young growth +Of offspring, and the tranquil later joys, +Nay, even the fierce eventful fight which raged +When we were wedded, fade and are deceased, +Lost in the irrecoverable past? +Nay, 'tis not strange. Always the memory +Of overwhelming perils or great joys, +Avoided or enjoyed, writes its own trace +With such deep characters upon our lives, +That all the rest are blotted. In this place, +Where is not action, thought, or count of time, +It is not weary as it were on earth, +To dwell on these old memories. Time is born +Of dawns and sunsets, days that wax and wane +And stamp themselves upon the yielding face +Of fleeting human life; but here there is +Morning nor evening, act nor suffering, +But only one unchanging Present holds +Our being suspended. One blest day indeed, +Or centuries ago or yesterday, +There came among us one who was Divine, +Not as our gods, joyous and breathing strength +And careless life, but crowned with a new crown +Of suffering, and a great light came with him, +And with him he brought Time and a new sense +Of dim, long-vanished years; and since he passed +I seem to see new meaning in my fate, +And all the deeds I tell of. Evermore +The young life comes, bound to the cruel rocks +Alone. Before it the unfathomed sea +Smiles, filled with monstrous growths that wait to take +Its innocence. Far off the voice and hand +Of love kneel by in agony, and entreat +The seeming careless gods. Still when the deep +Is smoothest, lo, the deadly fangs and coils +Lurk near, to smite with death. And o'er the crags +Of duty, like a sudden sunbeam, springs +Some golden soul half mortal, half divine, +Heaven-sent, and breaks the chain; and evermore +For sacrifice they die, through sacrifice +They live, and are for others, and no grief +Which smites the humblest but reverberates +Thro' all the close-set files of life, and takes +The princely soul that from its royal towers +Looks down and sees the sorrow. + Sir, farewell! +If thou shouldst meet my children on the earth +Or here, for maybe it is long ago +Since I and they were living, say to them +I only muse a little here, and wait +The waking." + And her lifted arms sank down +Upon her knees, and as I passed I saw her +Gazing with soft rapt eyes, and on her lips +A smile as of a saint. + + + + + And then I saw +A manly hunter pace along the lea, +His bow upon his shoulder, and his spear +Poised idly in his hand: the face and form +Of vigorous youth; but in the full brown eyes +A timorous gaze as of a hunted hart, +Brute-like, yet human still, even as the Faun +Of old, the dumb brute passing into man, +And dowered with double nature. As he came +I seemed to question of his fate, and he +Answered me thus: + "'Twas one hot afternoon +That I, a hunter, wearied with my day, +Heard my hounds baying fainter on the hills, +Led by the flying hart; and when the sound +Faded and all was still, I turned to seek, +O'ercome by heat and thirst, a little glade, +Beloved of old, where, in the shadowy wood, +The clear cold crystal of a mossy pool +Lipped the soft emerald marge, and gave again +The flower-starred lawn where ofttimes overspent +I lay upon the grass and careless bathed +My limbs in the sweet lymph. + But as I neared +The hollow, sudden through the leaves I saw +A throng of wood-nymphs fair, sporting undraped +Round one, a goddess. She with timid hand +Loosened her zone, and glancing round let fall +Her robe from neck and bosom, pure and bright, +(For it was Dian's self I saw, none else) +As when she frees her from a fleece of cloud +And swims along the deep blue sea of heaven +On sweet June nights. Silent awhile I stood, +Rooted with awe, and fain had turned to fly, +But feared by careless footstep to affright +Those chaste cold eyes. Great awe and reverence +Held me, and fear; then Love with passing wing +Fanned me, and held my eyes, and checked my breath, +Signing 'Beware!' + So for a time I watched, +Breathless as one a brooding nightmare holds, +Who fleeth some great fear, yet fleeth not; +Till the last flutter of lawn, and veil no more +Obscured, and all the beauty of my dreams +Assailed my sense. But ere I raised my eyes, +As one who fain would look and see the sun, +The first glance dazed my brain. Only I knew +The perfect outline flow in tender curves, +To break in doubled charms; only a haze +Of creamy white, dimple, and deep divine: +And then no more. For lo! a sudden chill, +And such thick mist as shuts the hills at eve, +Oppressed me gazing; and a heaven-sent shame, +An awe, a fear, a reverence for the unknown, +Froze all the springs of will and left me cold, +And blinded all the longings of my eyes, +Leaving such dim reflection still as mocks +Him who has looked on a great light, and keeps +On his closed eyes the image. Presently, +My fainting soul, safe hidden for awhile +Deep in Life's mystic shades, renewed herself, +And straight, the innocent brute within the man +Bore on me, and with half-averted eye +I gazed upon the secret. + As I looked, +A radiance, white as beamed the frosty moon +On the mad boy and slew him, beamed on me; +Made chill my pulses, checked my life and heat; +Transformed me, withered all my soul, and left +My being burnt out. For lo! the dreadful eyes +Of Godhead met my gaze, and through the mask +And thick disguise of sense, as through a wood, +Pierced to my life. Then suddenly I knew +An altered nature, touched by no desire +For that which showed so lovely, but declined +To lower levels. Nought of fear or awe, +Nothing of love was mine. Wide-eyed I gazed, +But saw no spiritual beam to blight +My brain with too much beauty, no undraped +And awful majesty; only a brute, +Dumb charm, like that which draws the brute to it, +Unknowing it is drawn. So gradually +I knew a dull content o'ercloud my sense, +And unabashed I gazed, like that dumb bird +Which thinks no thought and speaks no word, yet fronts +The sun that blinded Homer--all my fear +Sunk with my shame, in a base happiness. + + But as I gazed, and careless turned and passed +Through the thick wood, forgetting what had been, +And thinking thoughts no longer, swift there came +A mortal terror: voices that I knew, +My own hounds' bayings that I loved before, +As with them often o'er the purple hills +I chased the flying hart from slope to slope, +Before the slow sun climbed the Eastern peaks, +Until the swift sun smote the Western plain; +Whom often I had cheered by voice and glance, +Whom often I had checked with hand and thong +Grim followers, like the passions, firing me, +True servants, like the strong nerves, urging me +On many a fruitless chase, to find and take +Some too swift-fleeting beauty; faithful feet +And tongues, obedient always: these I knew, +Clothed with a new-born force and vaster grown, +And stronger than their master; and I thought, +What if they tare me with their jaws, nor knew +That once I ruled them,--brute pursuing brute, +And I the quarry? Then I turned and fled,-- +If it was I indeed that feared and fled-- +Down the long glades, and through the tangled brakes, +Where scarce the sunlight pierced; fled on and on, +And panted, self-pursued. But evermore +The dissonant music which I knew so sweet, +When by the windy hills, the echoing vales, +And whispering pines it rang, now far, now near, +As from my rushing steed I leant and cheered +With voice and horn the chase--this brought to me +Fear of I knew not what, which bade me fly, +Fly always, fly; but when my heart stood still, +And all my limbs were stiffened as I fled, +Just as the white moon ghost-like climbed the sky, +Nearer they came and nearer, baying loud, +With bloodshot eyes and red jaws dripping foam; +And when I strove to check their savagery, +Speaking with words; no voice articulate came, +Only a dumb, low bleat. Then all the throng +Leapt swift on me, and tare me as I lay, +And left me man again. + Wherefore I walk +Along these dim fields peopled with the ghosts +Of heroes who have left the ways of earth +For this faint ghost of them. Sometimes I think, +Pondering on what has been, that all my days +Were shadows, all my life an allegory; +And, though I know sometimes some fainter gleam +Of the old beauty move me, and sometimes +Some beat of the old pulses; that my fate, +For ever hurrying on in hot pursuit, +To fall at length self-slain, was but a tale +Writ large by Zeus upon a mortal life, +Writ large, and yet a riddle. For sometimes +I read its meaning thus: Life is a chase, +And Man the hunter, always following on, +With hounds of rushing thought or fiery sense, +Some hidden truth or beauty, fleeting still +For ever through the thick-leaved coverts deep +And wind-worn wolds of time. And if he turn +A moment from the hot pursuit to seize +Some chance-brought sweetness, other than the search +To which his soul is set,--some dalliance, +Some outward shape of Art, some lower love, +Some charm of wealth and sleek content and home,-- +Then, if he check an instant, the swift chase +Of fierce untempered energies which pursue, +With jaws unsated and a thirst for act, +Bears down on him with clanging shock, and whelms +His prize and him in ruin. + And sometimes +I seem to myself a thinker, who at last, +Amid the chase and capture of low ends, +Pausing by some cold well of hidden thought +Comes on some perfect truth, and looks and looks +Till the fair vision blinds him. And the sum +Of all his lower self pursuing him, +The strong brute forces, the unchecked desires, +Finding him bound and speechless, deem him now +No more their master, but some soulless thing; +And leap on him, and seize him, and possess +His life, till through death's gate he pass to life, +And, his own ghost, revives. But looks no more +Upon the truth unveiled, save through a cloud +Of creed and faith and longing, which shall change +One day to perfect knowledge. + But whoe'er +Shall read the riddle of my life, I walk +In this dim land amid dim ghosts of kings, +As one day thou shalt; meantime, fare thou well." + + Then passed he; and I marked him slowly go +Along the winding ways of that weird land, +And vanish in a wood. + + + + + And next I knew +A woman perfect as a young man's dream, +And breathing as it seemed the old sweet air +Of the fair days of old, when man was young +And life an Epic. Round the lips a smile +Subtle and deep and sweet as hers who looks +From the old painter's canvas, and derides +Life and the riddle of things, the aimless strife, +The folly of Love, as who has proved it all, +Enjoyed and suffered. In the lovely eyes +A weary look, no other than the gaze +Which ofttimes as the rapid chariot whirls, +And ofttimes by the glaring midnight streets, +Gleams out and chills our thought. And yet not guilt +Nor sorrow was it; only weariness, +No more, and still most lovely. As I named +Her name in haste, she looked with half surprise, +And thus she seemed to speak: + "What? Dost thou know +Thou too, the fatal glances which beguiled +Those strong rude chiefs of old? Has not the gloom +Of this dim land withdrawn from out mine eyes +The glamour which once filled them? Does my cheek +Retain the round of youth and still defy +The wear of immemorial centuries? +And this low voice, long silent, keeps it still +The music of old time? Aye, in thine eyes +I read it, and within thine eyes I see +Thou knowest me, and the story of my life +Sung by the blind old bard when I was dead, +And all my lovers dust. I know thee not, +Thee nor thy gods, yet would I soothly swear +I was not all to blame for what has been, +The long fight, the swift death, the woes, the tears +The brave lives spent, the humble homes uptorn +To gain one poor fair face. It was not I +That curved these lips into this subtle smile, +Or gave these eyes their fire, nor yet made round +This supple frame. It was not I, but Love, +Love mirroring himself in all things fair, +Love that projects himself upon a life, +And dotes on his own image. + Ah! the days, +The weary years of Love and feasts and gold, +The hurried flights, the din of clattering hoofs +At midnight, when the heroes dared for me, +And bore me o'er the hills; the swift pursuits +Baffled and lost; or when from isle to isle +The high-oared galley spread its wings and rose +Over the swelling surges, and I saw, +Time after time, the scarce familiar town, +The sharp-cut hills, the well-loved palaces, +The gleaming temples fade, and all for me, +Me the dead prize, the shell, the soulless ghost, +The husk of a true woman; the fond words +Wasted on careless ears, that seemed to hear, +Of love to me unloving; the rich feasts, +The silken dalliance and soft luxury, +The fair observance and high reverence +For me who cared not, to whatever land +My kingly lover snatched me. I have known +How small a fence Love sets between the king +And the strong hind, who breeds his brood, and dies +Upon the field he tills. I have exchanged +People for people, crown for glittering crown, +Through every change a queen, and held my state +Hateful, and sickened in my soul to lie +Stretched on soft cushions to the lutes' low sound, +While on the wasted fields the clang of arms +Rang, and the foemen perished, and swift death, +Hunger, and plague, and every phase of woe +Vexed all the land for me. I have heard the curse +Unspoken, when the wife widowed for me +Clasped to her heart her orphans starved for me; +As I swept proudly by. I have prayed the gods, +Hating my own fair face which wrought such woe, +Some plague divine might light on it and leave +My curse a ruin. Yet I think indeed +They had not cursed but pitied, those true wives +Who mourned their humble lords, and straining felt +The innocent thrill which swells the mother's heart +Who clasps her growing boy; had they but known +The lifeless life, the pain of hypocrite smiles, +The dead load of caresses simulated, +When Love stands shuddering by to see his fires +Lit for the shrine of gold. What if they felt +The weariness of loveless love which grew +And through the jealous palace portals seized +The caged unloving woman, sick of toys, +Sick of her gilded chains, her ease, herself, +Till for sheer weariness she flew to meet +Some new unloved seducer? What if they knew +No childish loving hands, or worse than all, +Had borne them sullen to a sire unloved, +And left them without pain? I might have been, +I too, a loving mother and chaste wife, +Had Fate so willed. + For I remember well +How one day straying from my father's halls +Seeking anemones and violets, +A girl in Spring-time, when the heart makes Spring +Within the budding bosom, that I came +Of a sudden through a wood upon a bay, +A little sunny land-locked bay, whose banks +Sloped gently downward to the yellow sand, +Where the blue wave creamed soft with fairy foam, +And oft the Nereids sported. As I strayed +Singing, with fresh-pulled violets in my hair +And bosom, and my hands were full of flowers, +I came upon a little milk-white lamb, +And took it in my arms and fondled it, +And wreathed its neck with flowers, and sang to it +And kissed it, and the Spring was in my life, +And I was glad. + And when I raised my eyes +Behold, a youthful shepherd with his crook +Stood by me and regarded as I lay, +Tall, fair, with clustering curls, and front that wore +A budding manhood. As I looked a fear +Came o'er me, lest he were some youthful god +Disguised in shape of man, so fair he was; +But when he spoke, the kindly face was full +Of manhood, and the large eyes full of fire +Drew me without a word, and all the flowers +Fell from me, and the little milk-white lamb +Strayed through the brake, and took with it the white +Fair years of childhood. Time fulfilled my being +With passion like a cup, and with one kiss +Left me a woman. + Ah! the lovely days, +When on the warm bank crowned with flowers we sate +And thought no harm, and his thin reed pipe made +Low music, and no witness of our love +Intruded, but the tinkle of the flock +Came from the hill, and 'neath the odorous shade +We dreamed away the day, and watched the waves +Steal shoreward, and beyond the sylvan capes +The innumerable laughter of the sea! + +Ah youth and love! So passed the happy days +Till twilight, and I stole as in a dream +Homeward, and lived as in a happy dream, +And when they spoke answered as in a dream, +And through the darkness saw, as in a glass, +The happy, happy day, and thrilled and glowed +And kept my love in sleep, and longed for dawn +And scarcely stayed for hunger, and with morn +Stole eager to the little wood, and fed +My life with kisses. Ah! the joyous days +Of innocence, when Love was Queen in heaven, +And nature unreproved! Break they then still, +Those azure circles, on a golden shore? +Smiles there no glade upon the older earth +Where spite of all, gray wisdom, and new gods, +Young lovers dream within each other's arms +Silent, by shadowy grove, or sunlit sea? + + Ah days too fair to last! There came a night +When I lay longing for my love, and knew +Sudden the clang of hoofs, the broken doors. +The clash of swords, the shouts, the groans, the stain +Of red upon the marble, the fixed gaze +Of dead and dying eyes,--that was the time +When first I looked on death,--and when I woke +From my deep swoon, I felt the night air cool +Upon my brow, and the cold stars look down, +As swift we galloped o'er the darkling plain; +And saw the chill sea glimpses slowly wake, +With arms unknown around me. When the dawn +Broke swift, we panted on the pathless steeps, +And so by plain and mountain till we came +To Athens, where they kept me till I grew +Fairer with every year, and many wooed, +Heroes and chieftains, but I loved not one. + + And then the avengers came and snatched me back +To Sparta. All the dark high-crested chiefs +Of Argos wooed me, striving king with king +For one fair foolish face, nor knew I kept +No heart to give them. Yet since I was grown +Weary of honeyed words and suit of love, +I wedded a brave chief, dauntless and true. +But what cared I? I could not prize at all +His honest service. I had grown so tired +Of loving and of love, that when they brought +News that the fairest shepherd on the hills, +Having done himself to death for his lost love, +Lay, like a lovely statue, cold and white +Upon the golden sand, I hardly knew +More than a passing pang. Love, like a flower, +Love, springing up too tall in a young breast, +The growth of morning, Life's too scorching sun +Had withered long ere noon. Love, like a flame +On his own altar offering up my heart, +Had burnt my being to ashes. + Was it love +That drew me then to Paris? He was fair, +I grant you, fairer than a summer morn, +Fair with a woman's fairness, yet in arms +A hero, but he never had my heart, +Not love for him allured me, but the thirst +For freedom, if in more than thought I erred, +And was not rapt but willing. For my child, +Born to an unloved father, loved me not, +The fresh sea called, the galleys plunged, and I +Fled willing from my prison and the pain +Of undesired caresses, and the wind +Was fair, and on the third day as we sailed, +My heart was glad within me when I saw +The towers of Ilium rise beyond the wave. + + Ah, the long years, the melancholy years, +The miserable melancholy years! +For soon the new grew old, and then I grew +Weary of him, of all, of pomp and state +And novel splendour. Yet at times I knew +Some thrill of pride within me as I saw +From those high walls, a prisoner and a foe, +The swift ships flock at anchor in the bay, +The hasty landing and the flash of arms, +The lines of royal tents upon the plain, +The close-shut gates, the chivalry within +Issuing in all its pride to meet the shock +Of the bold chiefs without; so year by year +The haughty challenge from the warring hosts +Rang forth, and I with a divided heart +Saw victory incline, now here, now there, +And helpless marked the Argive chiefs I knew, +The spouse I left, the princely loves of old, +Now with each other strive, and now with Troy: +The brave pomp of the morn, the fair strong limbs, +The glittering panoply, the bold young hearts, +Athirst for fame of war, and with the night +The broken spear, the shattered helm, the plume +Dyed red with blood, the ghastly dying face, +And nerveless limbs laid lifeless. And I knew +The stainless Hector whom I could have loved, +But that a happy love made blind his eyes +To all my baleful beauty; fallen and dragged +His noble, manly head upon the sand +By young Achilles' chariot; him in turn +Fallen and slain; my fair false Paris slain; +Plague, famine, battle, raging now within, +And now without, for many a weary year, +Summer and winter, till I loathed to live, +Who was indeed, as well they said, the Hell +Of men, and fleets, and cities. As I stood +Upon the walls, ofttimes a longing came, +Looking on rage, and fight, and blood, and death, +To end it all, and dash me down and die; +But no god helped me. Nay, one day I mind +I would entreat them. 'Pray you, lords, be men. +What fatal charm is this which Ate gives +To one poor foolish face? Be strong, and turn +In peace, forget this glamour, get you home +With all your fleets and armies, to the land +I love no longer, where your faithful wives +Pine widowed of their lords, and your young boys +Grow wild to manhood. I have nought to give, +No heart, nor prize of love for any man, +Nor recompense. I am the ghost alone +Of the fair girl ye knew; she still abides, +If she still lives and is not wholly dead, +Stretched on a flowery bank upon the sea +In fair heroic Argos. Leave this form +That is no other than the outward shell +Of a once loving woman.' + As I spake, +My pity fired my eyes and flushed my cheek +With some soft charm; and as I spread my hands, +The purple, glancing down a little, left +The marble of my breasts and one pink bud +Upon the gleaming snows. And as I looked +With a mixed pride and terror, I beheld +The brute rise up within them, and my words +Fall barren on them. So I sat apart, +Nor ever more looked forth, while every day +Brought its own woe. + The melancholy years, +The miserable melancholy years, +Crept onward till the midnight terror came, +And by the glare of burning streets I saw +Palace and temple reel in ruin and fall, +And the long-baffled legions, bursting in +By gate and bastion, blunted sword and spear +With unresisted slaughter. From my tower +I saw the good old king; his kindly eyes +In agony, and all his reverend hairs +Dabbled with blood, as the fierce foeman thrust +And stabbed him as he lay; the youths, the girls, +Whom day by day I knew, their silken ease +And royal luxury changed for blood and tears, +Haled forth to death or worse. Then a great hate +Of life and fate seized on me, and I rose +And rushed among them, crying, 'See, 'tis I, +I who have brought this evil! Kill me! kill +The fury that is I, yet is not I! +And let my soul go outward through the wound +Made clean by blood to Hades! Let me die, +Not these who did no wrong!' But not a hand +Was raised, and all shrank backward as afraid, +As from a goddess. Then I swooned and fell +And knew no more, and when I woke I felt +My husband's arms around me, and the wind +Blew fair for Greece, and the beaked galley plunged; +And where the towers of Ilium rose of old, +A pall of smoke above a glare of fire. + + What then in the near future? + Ten long years +Bring youth and love to that deep summer-tide +When the full noisy current of our lives +Creeps dumb through wealth of flowers. I think I knew +Somewhat of peace at last, with my good Lord +Who loved too much, to palter with the past, +Flushed with the present. Young Hermione +Had grown from child to woman. She was wed; +And was not I her mother? At the pomp +Of solemn nuptials and requited love, +I prayed she might be happy, happier far +Than ever I was; so in tranquil ease +I lived a queen long time, and because wealth +And high observance can make sweet our days +When youth's swift joy is past, I did requite +With what I might, not love, the kindly care +Of him I loved not; pomps and robes of price +And chariots held me. But when Fate cut short +His life and love, his sons who were not mine +Reigned in his stead, and hated me and mine: +And knowing I was friendless, I sailed forth +Once more across the sea, seeking for rest +And shelter. Still I knew that in my eyes +Love dwelt, and all the baleful charm of old +Burned as of yore, scarce dimmed as yet by time: +I saw it in the mirror of the sea, +I saw it in the youthful seamen's eyes, +And was half proud again I had such power +Who now kept nothing else. So one calm eve, +Behold, a sweet fair isle blushed like a rose +Upon the summer sea: there my swift ship +Cast anchor, and they told me it was Rhodes. + + There, in a little wood above the sea, +Like that dear wood of yore, I wandered forth +Forlorn, and all my seamen were apart, +And I, alone; when at the close of day +I knew myself surrounded by strange churls +With angry eyes, and one who ordered them, +A woman, whom I knew not, but who walked +In mien and garb a queen. She, with the fire +Of hate within her eyes, 'Quick, bind her, men! +I know her; bind her fast!' Then to the trunk +Of a tall plane they bound me with rude cords +That cut my arms. And meantime, far below, +The sun was gilding fair with dying rays +Isle after isle and purple wastes of sea. + + And then she signed to them, and all withdrew +Among the woods and left us, face to face, +Two women. Ere I spoke, 'I know,' she said, +'I know that evil fairness. This it was, +Or ever he had come across my life, +That made him cold to me, who had my love +And left me half a heart. If all my life +Of wedlock was but half a life, what fiend +Came 'twixt my love and me, but that fair face? +What left his children orphans, but that face? +And me a widow? Fiend! I have thee now; +Thou hast not long to live. I will requite +Thy murders; yet, oh fiend! that art so fair, +Were it not haply better to deface +Thy fatal loveliness, and leave thee bare +Of all thy baleful power? And yet I doubt, +And looking on thy face I doubt the more, +Lest all thy dower of fairness be the gift +Of Aphrodite, and I fear to fight +Against the immortal Gods.' + + Even with the word, +And she relenting, all the riddle of life +Flashed through me, and the inextricable coil +Of Being, and the immeasurable depths +And irony of Fate, burst on my thought +And left me smiling in the eyes of death, +With this deep smile thou seest. Then with a shriek +The woman leapt on me, and with blind rage +Strangled my life. And when she had done the deed +She swooned, and those her followers hasting back +Fell prone upon their knees before the corpse +As to a goddess. Then one went and brought +A sculptor, and within a jewelled shrine +They set me in white marble, bound to a tree +Of marble. And they came and knelt to me, +Young men and maidens, through the secular years, +While the old gods bore sway, but I was here, +And now they kneel no longer, for the world +Has gone from beauty. + But I think, indeed, +They well might worship still, for never yet +Was any thought or thing of beauty born +Except with suffering. That poor wretch who thought +I injured her, stealing the foolish heart +Which she prized but I could not, what knew she +Of that I suffered? She had loved her love, +Though unrequited, and had borne to him +Children who loved her. What if she had been +Loved yet unloving: all the fire of love +Burnt out before love's time in one brief blaze +Of passion. Ah, poor fool! I pity her, +Being blest and yet unthankful, and forgive, +Now that she is a ghost as I, the hand +Which loosed my load of life. For scarce indeed +Could any god who cares for mortal men +Have ever kept me happy. I had tired +Of simple loving, doubtless, as I tired +Of splendour and being loved. There be some souls +For which love is enough, content to bear +From youth to age, from chesnut locks to gray, +The load of common, uneventful life +And penury. But I was not of these; +I know not now, if it were best indeed +That I had reared my simple shepherd brood, +And lived and died unknown in some poor hut +Among the Argive hills; or lived a queen +As I did, knowing every day that dawned +Some high emprise and glorious, and in death +To fill the world with song. Not the same meed +The gods mete out for all, or She, the dread +Necessity, who rules both gods and men, +Some to dishonour, some to honour moulds, +To happiness some, some to unhappiness. +We are what Zeus has made us, discords playing +In the great music, but the harmony +Is sweeter for them, and the great spheres ring +In one accordant hymn. + But thou, if e'er +There come a daughter of thy love, oh pray +To all thy gods, lest haply they should mar +Her life with too great beauty!" + So she ceased. +The fairest woman that the poet's dream +Or artist hand has fashioned. All the gloom +Seemed lightened round her, and I heard the sound +Of her melodious voice when all was still, +And the dim twilight took her. + + + + + Next there came +Two who together walked: one with a lyre +Of gold, which gave no sound; the other hung +Upon his breast, and closely clung to him, +Spent in a tender longing. As they came, +I heard her gentle voice recounting o'er +Some ancient tale, and these the words she said: + + "Dear voice and lyre now silent, which I heard +Across yon sullen river, bringing to me +All my old life, and he, the ferryman, +Heard and obeyed, and the grim monster heard +And fawned on you. Joyous thou cam'st and free +Like a white sunbeam from the dear bright earth, +Where suns shone clear, and moons beamed bright, and streams +Laughed with a rippling music,--nor as here +The dumb stream stole, the veiled sky slept, the fields +Were lost in twilight. Like a morning breeze, +Which blows in summer from the gates of dawn +Across the fields of spice, and wakes to life +Their slumbering perfume, through this silent land +Of whispering voices and of half-closed eyes, +Where scarce a footstep sounds, nor any strain +Of earthly song, thou cam'st; and suddenly +The pale cheeks flushed a little, the murmured words +Rose to a faint, thin treble; the throng of ghosts +Pacing along the sunless ways and still, +Felt a new life. Thou camest, dear, and straight +The dull cold river broke in sparkling foam, +The pale and scentless flowers grew perfumed; last +To the dim chamber, where with the sad queen +I sat in gloom, and silently inwove +Dead wreaths of amaranths; thy music came +Laden with life, and I, who seemed to know +Not life's voice only, but my own, rose up, +Along the hollow pathways following +The sound which brought back earth and life and love, +And memory and longing. Yet I went +With half-reluctant footsteps, as of one +Whom passion draws, or some high fantasy, +Despite himself, because some subtle spell, +Part born of dread to cross that sullen stream +And its grim guardians, part of secret shame +Of the young airs and freshness of the earth, +Being that I was, enchained me. + Then at last, +From voice and lyre so high a strain arose +As trembled on the utter verge of being, +And thrilling, poured out life. Thus closelier drawn +I walked with thee, shut in by halcyon sound +And soft environments of harmony, +Beyond the ghostly gates, beyond the dim +Calm fields, where the beetle hummed and the pale owl +Stole noiseless from the copse, and the white blooms +Stretched thin for lack of sun: so fair a light +Born out of consonant sound environed me. +Nor looked I backward, as we seemed to move +To some high goal of thought and life and love, +Like twin birds flying fast with equal wing +Out of the night, to meet the coming sun +Above a sea. But on thy dear fair eyes, +The eyes that well I knew on the old earth, +I looked not, for with still averted gaze +Thou leddest, and I followed; for, indeed, +While that high strain was sounding, I was rapt +In faith and a high courage, driving out +All doubt and discontent and womanish fear, +Nay, even my love itself. But when awhile +It sank a little, or seemed to sink and fall +To lower levels, seeing that use makes blunt +The too accustomed ear, straightway, desire +To look once more on thy recovered eyes +Seized me, and oft I called with piteous voice, +Beseeching thee to turn. But thou long time +Wert even as one unmindful, with grave sign +And waving hand, denying. Finally, +When now we neared the stream, on whose far shore +Lay life, great terror took me, and I shrieked +Thy name, as in despair. Then thou, as one +Who knows him set in some great jeopardy, +A swift death fronting him on either hand, +Didst slowly turning gaze; and lo! I saw +Thine eyes grown awful, life that looked on death, +Clear purity on dark and cankered sin, +The immortal on corruption,--not the eyes +That erst I knew in life, but dreadfuller, +And stranger. As I looked, I seemed to swoon, +Some blind force whirled me back, and when I woke +I saw thee vanish in the middle stream, +A speck on the dull waters, taking with thee +My life, and leaving Love with me. But I +Not for myself bewail, but all for thee, +Who, but for me, wert now among the stars +With thy great Lord; I sitting at thy feet: +But now the fierce and unrestrained rout +Of passions woman-natured, finding thee +Scornful of love within thy lonely cell, +With blind rage falling on thee, tore thy limbs, +And left them to the Muses' sepulture, +While thy soul dwells in Hades. But I wail +My weakness always, who for Love destroyed +The life that was my Love. I prithee, dear, +Forgive me if thou canst, who hast lost heaven +To save a loving woman." + He with voice +Sweeter than any mortal melody, +And plaintive as the music that is made +By the AEolian strings, or the sad bird +That sings of summer nights: + "Eurydice, +Dear love, be comforted; not once alone +That which thou mournest is, but day by day +Some lonely soul, which walks apart and feeds +On high hill pastures, far from herds of men, +Comes to the low fat fields, and sunny vales +Joyous with fruits and flowers, and the white arms +Of laughing love; and there awhile he stays +Content, forgetting all the joys he knew, +When first the morning broke upon the hills, +And the keen air breathed from the Eastern gates +Like a pure draught of wine; forgetting all +The strains which float, as from a nearer heaven, +To him who treads at dawn the untrodden snows, +While all the warm world sleeps;--forgetting these +And all things that have been. And if he gain +To raise to his own heights the simpler souls +That dwell upon the plains, the untutored thought, +The museless lives, the unawakened brain +That yet might soar, then is he blest indeed. +But if he fail, then, leaving love behind, +The wider love of the race, the closer love +Of some congenial soul, he turns again +To the old difficult steeps, and there alone +Pines, till the widowed passions of his heart +Tear him and rend his soul, and drive him down +To the low plains he left. And there he dwells, +Missing the heavens, dear, and the white peaks, +And the light air of old; but in their stead +Finding the soft sweet sun of the vale, the clouds +Which veil the skies indeed, but give the rains +That feed the streams of life and make earth green, +And bring at last the harvest. So I walk +In this dim land content with thee, O Love, +Untouched by any yearning of regret +For those old days; nor that the lyre which made +Erewhile such potent music now is dumb; +Nor that the voice that once could move the earth +(Zeus speaking through it), speaks in household words +Of homely love: Love is enough for me +With thee, O dearest; and perchance at last, +Zeus willing, this dumb lyre and whispered voice +Shall wake, by Love inspired, to such clear note +As soars above the stars, and swelling, lifts +Our souls to highest heaven." + Then he stooped, +And, folded in one long embrace, they went +And faded. And I cried, "Oh, strong God, Love, +Mightier than Death and Hell!" + + + And then I chanced +On a fair woman, whose sad eyes were full +Of a fixed self-reproach, like his who knows +Himself the fountain of his grief, and pines +In self-inflicted sorrow. As I spake +Enquiring of her grief, she answered thus: + + "Stranger, thou seest of all the shades below +The most unhappy. Others sought their love +In death, and found it, dying; but for me +The death that took me, took from me my love, +And left me comfortless. No load I bear +Like those dark wicked women, who have slain +Their Lords for lust or anger, whom the dread +Propitious Ones within the pit below +Punish and purge of sin; only unfaith, +If haply want of faith be not a crime +Blacker than murder, when we fail to trust +One worthy of all faith, and folly bring +No harder recompense than comes of scorn +And loathing of itself. + Ah, fool, fool, fool, +Who didst mistrust thy love, who was the best, +And truest, manliest soul with whom the gods +Have ever blest the earth; so brave, so strong, +Fired with such burning hate of powerful ill, +So loving of the race, so swift to raise +The fearless arm and mighty club, and smite +All monstrous growths with ruin--Zeus himself +Showed scarce more mighty--and yet was the while +A very man, not cast in mould too fine +For human love, but ofttimes snared and caught +By womanish wiles, fast held within the net +His passions wove. Oh, it was grand to hear +Of how he went, the champion of his race, +Mighty in war, mighty in love, now bent +To more than human tasks, now lapt in ease, +Now suffering, now enjoying. Strong, vast soul, +Tuned to heroic deeds, and set on high +Above the range of common petty sins-- +Too high to mate with an unequal soul, +Too full of striving for contented days. + + Ah me, how well I do recall the cause +Of all our ills! I was a happy bride +When that dark Ate which pursues the steps +Of heroes--innocent blood-guiltiness-- +Drove us to exile, and I joyed to be +His own, and share his pain. To a swift stream +Fleeing we came, where a rough ferryman +Waited, more brute than man. My hero plunged +In those fierce depths and battled with their flow, +And with great labour gained the strand, and bade +The monster row me to him. But with lust +And brutal cunning in his eyes, the thing +Seized me and turned to fly with me, when swift +An arrow hissed from the unerring bow, +Pierced him, and loosed his grasp. Then as his eyes +Grew glazed in death there came in them a gleam +Of what I know was hate, and he said, 'Take +This white robe. It is costly. See, my blood +Has stained it but a little. I did wrong: +I know it, and repent me. If there come +A time when he grows cold--for all the race +Of heroes wander, nor can any love +Fix theirs for long--take it and wrap him in it, +And he shall love again.' Then, from the strange +Deep look within his eyes I shrank in fear, +And left him half in pity, and I went +To meet my Lord, who rose from that fierce stream +Fair as a god. + Ah me, the weary days +We women live, spending our anxious souls, +Consumed with jealous fancies, hungering still +For the beloved voice and ear and eye, +And hungering all in vain! For life is more +To youthful manhood than to sit at home +Before the hearth to watch the children's ways +And lead the life of petty household care +Which doth content us women. Day by day +I pined in Trachis for my love, while he, +Now in some warlike exploit busied, now +Fighting some monster, now at some fair court, +Resting awhile till some new enterprise +Called him, returned not. News of treacheries +Avenged, friends succoured, dreadful monsters slain, +Came from him: always triumph, always fame, +And honour, and success, and reverence, +And sometimes, words of love for me who pined +For more than words, and would have gone to him +But that the toils of such high errantry +Asked more than woman's strength. + So the slow years +Vexed me alone in Trachis, set forlorn +In solitude, nor hearing at the gate +The frank and cheering voice, nor on the stair +The heavy tread, nor feeling the strong arm +Around me in the darkling night, when all +My being ran slow. Last, subtle whispers came +Of womanish wiles which kept my Lord from me, +And one who, young and fair, a fresh-blown life +And virgin, younger, fairer far than I +When first he loved me, held him in the toils +Of scarce dissembled love. Not easily +Might I believe this evil, but at last +The oft-repeated malice finding me +Forlorn, and sitting imp-like at my ear, +Possessed me, and the fire of jealous love +Raged through my veins, not turned as yet to hate-- +Too well I loved for that--but breeding in me +Unfaith in him. Love, setting him so high +And self so low, betrayed me, and I prayed, +Constrained to hold him false, the immortal gods +To make him love again. + But still he came not. +And still the maddening rumours worked, and still +'Fair, young, and a king's daughter,' the same words +Smote me and pierced me. Oh, there is no pain +In Hades--nay, nor deepest Hell itself, +Like that of jealous hearts, the torture-pain +Which racked my life so long. + Till one fair morn +There came a joyful message. 'He has come! +And at the shrine upon the promontory, +The fair white shrine upon the purple sea, +He waits to do his solemn sacrifice +To the immortal gods; and with him comes +A young maid beautiful as Dawn.' + Then I, +Mingling despair with love, rapt in deep joy +That he was come, plunged in the depths of hell +That she came too, bethought me of the robe +The Centaur gave me, and the words he spake, +Forgetting the deep hatred in his eyes, +And all but love, and sent a messenger +Bidding him wear it for the sacrifice +To the immortals, knowing not at all +Whom Fate decreed the victim. + Shall my soul +Forget the agonized message which he sent, +Bidding me come? For that accursed robe, +Stained with the poisonous accursed blood, +Even in the midmost flush of sacrifice +Clung to him a devouring fire, and ate +The piteous flesh from his dear limbs, and stung +His great soft soul to madness. When I came, +Knowing it was my work, he bent on me, +Wise as a god through suffering and the near +Inevitable Death, so that no word +Of mine was needed, such a tender look +Of mild reproach as smote me. 'Couldst not thou +Trust me, who never loved as I love thee? +What need was there of magical arts to draw +The love that never wavered? I have lived +As he lives who through perilous paths must pass, +And lifelong trials, striving to keep down +The brute within him, born of too much strength +And sloth and vacuous days; by difficult toils, +Labours endured, and hard-fought fights with ill, +Now vanquished, now triumphant; and sometimes, +In intervals of too long labour, finding +His nature grown too strong for him, falls prone +Awhile a helpless prey, then once again +Rises and spurns his chains, and fares anew +Along the perilous ways. Dearest, I would +That thou wert wedded to some knight who stayed +At home within thy gates, and were content +To see thee happy. But for me the fierce +Rude energies of life, the mighty thews, +The god-sent hate of Wrong, these drove me forth +To quench the thirst of battle. See, this maid, +This is the bride I destined for our son +Who grows to manhood. Do thou see to her +When I am dead, for soon I know again +The frenzy comes, and with it ceasing, death. +Go, therefore, ere I harm thee when my strength +Has lost its guidance. Thou wert rich in love, +Be now as rich in faith. Dear, for thy wrong +I do forgive thee.' + When I saw the glare +Of madness fire his eyes, and my ears heard +The groans the torture wrung from his great soul, +I fled with broken heart to the white shrine, +And knelt in prayer, but still my sad ear took +The agony of his cries. + Then I who knew +There was no hope in god or man for me +Who had destroyed my Love, and with him slain +The champion of the suffering race of men, +And knowing that my soul, though innocent +Of blood, was guilty of unfaith and vile +Mistrust, and wrapt in weakness like a cloak, +And made the innocent tool of hate and wrong, +Against all love and good; grown sick and filled +With hatred of myself, rose from my knees, +And went a little space apart, and found +A gnarled tree on the cliff, and with my scarf +Strangling myself, swung lifeless. + But in death +I found him not. For, building a vast pile +Of scented woods on Oeta, as they tell, +My hero with his own hand lighted it, +And when the mighty pyre flamed far and wide +Over all lands and seas, he climbed on it +And laid him down to die; but pitying Zeus, +Before the swift flames reached him, in a cloud +Descending, snatched the strong brave soul to heaven, +And set him mid the stars. + Wherefore am I +Of all the blameless shades within this place +The most unhappy, if of blame, indeed, +I bear no load. For what is Sin itself, +But Error when we miss the road which leads +Up to the gate of heaven? Ignorance! +What if we be the cause of ignorance? +Being blind who might have seen! Yet do I know +But self-inflicted pain, nor stain there is +Upon my soul such as they bear who know +The dreadful scourge with which the stern judge still +Lashes their sins. I am forgiven, I know, +Who loved so much, and one day, if Zeus will, +I shall go free from hence, and join my Lord, +And be with him again." + And straight I seemed, +Passing, to look upon some scarce-spent life, +Which knows to-day the irony of Fate +In self-inflicted pain. + + + + + Together clung +The ghosts whom next I saw, bound three in one +By some invisible bond. A sire of port +God-like as Zeus, to whom on either hand +A tender stripling clung. I knew them well, +As all men know them. One fair youth spake low: +"Father, it does not pain me now, to be +Drawn close to thee, and by a double bond, +With this my brother." And the other: "Nay, +Nor me, O father; but I bless the chain +Which binds our souls in union. If some trace +Of pain still linger, heed it not--'tis past: +Still let us cling to thee." + He with grave eyes +Full of great tenderness, upon his sons +Looked with the father's gaze, that is so far +More sweet, and sad, and tender, than the gaze +Of mothers,--now on this one, now on that, +Regarding them. "Dear sons, whom on the earth +I loved and cherished, it was hard to watch +Your pain; but now 'tis finished, and we stand +For ever, through all future days of time, +Symbols of patient suffering undeserved, +Endured and vanquished. Yet sad memory still +Brings back our time of trial. + For the day +Broke fair when I, the dread Poseidon's priest, +Joyous because the unholy strife was done, +And seeing the blue waters now left free +Of hostile keels--save where upon the verge +Far off the white sails faded--rose at dawn, +And white robed, and in garb of sacrifice, +And with the sacred fillet round my brows, +Stood at the altar; and behind, ye twain, +Decked by your mother's hand with new-cleansed robes, +And with fresh flower-wreathed chaplets on your curls, +Attended, and your clear young voices made +Music that touched your father's eyes with tears, +If not the careless gods. I seem to hear +Those high sweet accents mounting in the hymn +Which rose to all the blessed gods who dwelt +Upon the far Olympus--Zeus, the Lord, +And Sovereign Here, and the immortal choir +Of Deities, but chiefly to the dread +Poseidon, him who sways the purple sea +As with a sceptre, shaking the fixed earth +With stress of thundering surges. By the shrine +The meek-eyed victim, for the sacrifice, +Stood with his gilded horns. The hymns were done, +And I in act to strike, when all the crowd +Who knelt behind us, with a common fear +Cried, with a cry that well might freeze the blood, +And then, with fearful glances towards the sea, +Fled, leaving us alone--me, the high priest, +And ye, the acolytes; forlorn of men, +Alone, but with our god. + But we stirred not: +We could not flee, who in the solemn act +Of worship, and the ecstasy which comes +To the believer's soul, saw heaven revealed, +The mysteries unveiled, the inner sky +Which meets the enraptured gaze. How should we fear +Who thus were god-encircled! So we stood +While the long ritual spent itself, nor cast +An eye upon the sea. Till as I came +To that great act which offers up a life +Before life's Lord, and the full mystery +Was trembling to completion, quick I heard +A stifled cry of agony, and knew +My children's voices. And the father's heart, +Which is far more than rite or service done +By man for god, seeing that it is divine +And comes from God to men--this rising in me, +Constrained me, and I ceased my prayer, and turned +To succour you, and lo! the awful coils +Which crushed your lives already, bound me round +And crushed me also, as you clung to me, +In common death. Some god had heard the prayer, +And lo! we were ourselves the sacrifice-- +The priest, the victim, the accepted life, +The blood, the pain, the salutary loss. + + Was it not better thus to cease and die +Together in one blest moment, mid the flush +And ecstasy of worship, and to know +Ourselves the victims? They were wrong who taught +That 'twas some jealous goddess who destroyed +Our lives, revengeful for discovered wiles, +Or hateful of our land. Not readily +Should such base passions sway the immortal gods; +But rather do I hold it sooth indeed +That Zeus himself it was, who pitying +The ruin he foreknew, yet might not stay, +Since mightier Fate decreed it, sent in haste +Those dreadful messengers, and bade them take +The pious lives he loved, before the din +Of midnight slaughter woke, and the fair town +Flamed pitifully to the skies, and all +Was blood and ruin. Surely it was best +To die as we did, and in death to live, +A vision for all ages of high pain +Which passes into beauty, and is merged +In one accordant whole, as discords merge +In that great Harmony which ceaseless rings +From the tense chords of life, than to have lived +Our separate lives, and died our separate deaths, +And left no greater mark than drops which rain +Upon the unbounded sea. Those hosts which fell +Before the Scaean gate upon the sand, +Nor found a bard to sing their fate, but left +Their bones to dogs and kites--were they more blest +Than we who, in the people's sight before +Ilium's unshattered towers, lay down to die +Our swift miraculous death? Dear sons, and good, +Dear children of my love, how doubly dear +For this our common sorrow; suffering weaves +Not only chains of darkness round, but binds +A golden glittering link, which though withdrawn +Or felt no longer, knits us soul to soul, +In indissoluble bonds, and draws our lives +So close, that though the individual life +Be merged, there springs a common life which grows +To such dread beauty, as has power to take +The sting from sorrow, and transform the pain +Into transcendent joy: as from the storm +The unearthly rainbow draws its myriad hues +And steeps the world in fairness. All our lives +Are notes that fade and sink, and so are merged +In the full harmony of Being. Dear sons, +Cling closer to me. Life nor Death has torn +Our lives asunder, as for some, but drawn +Their separate strands together in a knot +Closer than Life itself, stronger than Death, +Insoluble as Fate." + Then they three clung +Together--the strong father and young sons, +And in their loving eyes I saw the Pain +Fade into Joy, Suffering in Beauty lost, +And Death in Love! + + + + + By a still sullen pool, +Into its dark depths gazing, lay the ghost +Whom next I passed. In form, a lovely youth, +Scarce passed from boyhood. Golden curls were his, +And wide blue eyes. The semblance of a smile +Came on his lip--a girl's but for the down +Which hardly shaded it; but the pale cheek +Was soft as any maiden's, and his robe +Was virginal, and at his breast he bore +The perfumed amber cup which, when March comes +Gems the dry woods and windy wolds, and speaks +The resurrection. + Looking up, he said: +"Methought I saw her then, my love, my fair, +My beauty, my ideal; the dim clouds +Lifted, methought, a little--or was it +Fond Fancy only? For I know that here +No sunbeam cleaves the twilight, but a mist +Creeps over all the sky and fields and pools, +And blots them; and I know I seek in vain +My earth-sought beauty, nor can Fancy bring +An answer to my thought from these blind depths +And unawakened skies. Yet has use made +The quest so precious, that I keep it here, +Well knowing it is vain. + On the old earth +'Twas otherwise, when in fair Thessaly +I walked regardless of all nymphs who sought +My love, but sought in vain, whether it were +Dryad or Naiad from the woods or streams, +Or white-robed Oread fleeting on the side +Of fair Olympus, echoing back my sighs, +In vain, for through the mountains day by day +I wandered, and along the foaming brooks, +And by the pine-woods dry, and never took +A thought for love, nor ever 'mid the throng +Of loving nymphs who knew me beautiful +I dallied, unregarding; till they said +Some died for love of me, who loved not one. +And yet I cared not, wandering still alone +Amid the mountains by the scented pines. + + Till one fair day, when all the hills were still, +Nor any breeze made murmur through the boughs, +Nor cloud was on the heavens, I wandered slow, +Leaving the nymphs who fain with dance and song +Had kept me 'midst the glades, and strayed away +Among the pines, enwrapt in fantasy, +And by the beechen dells which clothe the feet +Of fair Olympus, wrapt in fantasy, +Weaving the thin and unembodied shapes +Which Fancy loves to body forth, and leave +In marble or in song; and so strayed down +To a low sheltered vale above the plains, +Where the lush grass grew thick, and the stream stayed +Its garrulous tongue; and last upon the bank +Of a still pool I came, where was no flow +Of water, but the depths were clear as air, +And nothing but the silvery gleaming side +Of tiny fishes stirred. There lay I down +Upon the flowery bank, and scanned the deep, +Half in a waking dream. + Then swift there rose, +From those enchanted depths, a face more fair +Than ever I had dreamt of, and I knew +My sweet long-sought ideal: the thick curls, +Like these, were golden, and the white robe showed +Like this; but for the wondrous eyes and lips, +The tender loving glance, the sunny smile +Upon the rosy mouth, these knew I not, +Not even in dreams; and yet I seemed to trace +Myself within them too, as who should find +His former self expunged, and him transformed +To some high thin ideal, separate +From what he was, by some invisible bar, +And yet the same in difference. As I moved +My arms to clasp her to me, lo! she moved +Her eager arms to mine, smiled to my smile, +Looked love to love, and answered longing eyes +With longing. When my full heart burst in words, +'Dearest, I love thee,' lo! the lovely lips, +'Dearest, I love thee,' sighed, and through the air +The love-lorn echo rang. But when I longed +To answer kiss with kiss, and stooped my lips +To her sweet lips in that long thrill which strains +Soul unto soul, the cold lymph came between +And chilled our love, and kept us separate souls +Which fain would mingle, and the self-same heaven +Rose, a blue vault above us, and no shade +Of earthly thing obscured us, as we lay +Two reflex souls, one and yet different, +Two sundered souls longing to be at one. + +There, all day long, until the light was gone +And took my love away, I lay and loved +The image, and when night was come, 'Farewell,' +I whispered, and she whispered back, 'Farewell,' +With oh, such yearning! Many a day we spent +By that clear pool together all day long. +And many a clouded hour on the wet grass +I lay beneath the rain, and saw her not, +And sickened for her; and sometimes the pool +Was thick with flood, and hid her; and sometimes +Some cold wind ruffled those clear wells, and left +But glimpses of her, and I rose at eve +Unsatisfied, a cold chill in my limbs +And fever at my heart: until, too soon! +The summer faded, and the skies were hid, +And my love came not, but a quenchless thirst +Wasted my life. And all the winter long +The bright sun shone not, or the thick ribbed ice +Obscured her, and I pined for her, and knew +My life ebb from me, till I grew too weak +To seek her, fearing I should see no more +My dear. And so the long dead winter waned +And the slow spring came back. + And one blithe day, +When life was in the woods, and the birds sang, +And soft airs fanned the hills, I knew again +Some gleam of hope within me, and again +With feeble limbs crawled forth, and felt the spring +Blossom within me; and the flower-starred glades, +The bursting trees, the building nests, the songs, +The hurry of life revived me; and I crept, +Ghost-like, amid the joy, until I flung +My panting frame, and weary nerveless limbs, +Down by the cold still pool. + And lo! I saw +My love once more, not beauteous as of old, +But oh, how changed! the fair young cheek grown pale, +The great eyes, larger than of yore, gaze forth +With a sad yearning look; and a great pain +And pity took me which were more than love, +And with a loud and wailing voice I cried, +'Dearest, I come again. I pine for thee,' +And swift she answered back, 'I pine for thee;' +'Come to me, oh, my own,' I cried, and she-- +'Come to me, oh, my own.' Then with a cry +Of love I joined myself to her, and plunged +Beneath the icy surface with a kiss, +And fainted, and am here. + And now, indeed, +I know not if it was myself I sought, +As some tell, or another. For I hold +That what we seek is but our other self, +Other and higher, neither wholly like +Nor wholly different, the half-life the gods +Retained when half was given--one the man +And one the woman; and I longed to round +The imperfect essence by its complement, +For only thus the perfect life stands forth +Whole, self-sufficing. Worse it is to live +Ill-mated than imperfect, and to move +From a false centre, not a perfect sphere, +But with a crooked bias sent oblique +Athwart life's furrows. 'Twas myself, indeed, +Thus only that I sought, that lovers use +To see in that they love, not that which is, +But that their fancy feigns, and view themselves +Reflected in their love, yet glorified, +And finer and more pure. + Wherefore it is: +All love which finds its own ideal mate +Is happy--happy that which gives itself +Unto itself, and keeps, through long calm years, +The tranquil image in its eyes, and knows +Fulfilment and is blest, and day by day +Wears love like a white flower, nor holds it less +Though sharp winds bite, or hot suns fade, or age +Sully its perfect whiteness, but inhales +Its fragrance, and is glad. But happier still +He who long seeks a high goal unattained, +And wearies for it all his days, nor knows +Possession sate his thirst, but still pursues +The fleeting loveliness--now seen, now lost, +But evermore grown fairer, till at last +He stretches forth his arms and takes the fair +In one long rapture, and its name is Death." + + Thus he; and seeing me stand grave: "Farewell. +If ever thou shouldst happen on a wood +In Thessaly, upon the plain-ward spurs +Of fair Olympus, take the path which winds +Through the close vale, and thou shalt see the pool +Where once I found my life. And if in Spring +Thou go there, round the margin thou shalt know +These amber blooms bend meekly, smiling down +Upon the crystal surface. Pluck them not. +But kneel a little while, and breathe a prayer +To the fair god of Love, and let them be. +For in those tender flowers is hid the life +That once was mine. All things are bound in one +In earth and heaven, nor is there any gulf +'Twixt things that live,--the flower that was a life, +The life that is a flower,--but one sure chain +Binds all, as now I know. + If there are still +Fair Oreads on the hills, say to them, sir, +They must no longer pine for me, but find +Some worthier lover, who can love again; +For I have found my love." + And to the pool +He turned, and gazed with lovely eyes, and showed +Fair as an angel. + + + + + Leaving him enwrapt +In musings, to a gloomy pass I came +Between dark rocks, where scarce a gleam of light, +Not even the niggard light of that dim land, +Might enter; and the soil was black and bare, +Nor even the thin growths which scarcely clothed +The higher fields might live. Hard by a cave +Which sloped down steeply to the lowest depths, +Whence dreadful sounds ascended, seated still, +Her head upon her hands, I saw a maid +With eyes fixed on the ground--not Tartarus +It was, but Hades; and she knew no pain, +Except her painful thought. Yet there it seemed, +As here, the unequal measure which awaits +The adjustment, and meanwhile, inspires the strife +Which rears life's palace walls; and fills the sail +Which bears our bark across unfathomed seas, +To its last harbour; this bore sway there too, +And 'twas a luckless shade which sat and wept +Amid the gloom, though blameless. Suddenly, +She raised her head, and lo! the long curls, writhed +Tangled, and snake-like--as the dripping hair +Of a dead girl who freed from life and shame, +From out the cruel wintry flow, is laid +Stark on the snow with dreadful staring eyes +Like hers. For when she raised her eyes to mine, +They chilled my blood, so great a woe they bore; +And as she gazed, wide-eyed, I knew my pulse +Beat slow, and my limbs stiffen. Then they wore, +At length, a softer look, and life revived +Within my breast as thus she softly spoke: + + "Nay, friend, I would not harm thee. I have known +Great sorrow, and sometimes it racks me still, +And turns me into stone, and makes my eyes +As dreadful as of yore; and yet it comes +But seldom, as thou sawest, now, for Time +And Death have healing hands. Only I love +To sit within the darkness here, nor face +The throng of happier ghosts; if any ghost +Of happiness come here. For on the earth +They wronged me bitterly, and turned to stone +My heart, till scarce I knew if e'er I was +The happy girl of yore. + That youth who dreams +Up yonder by the margin of the lake, +Knew but a cold ideal love, but me +Love in unearthly guise, but bodily form, +Seized and betrayed. + I was a priestess once, +Of stern Athene, doing day by day +Due worship; raising, every dawn that came, +My cold pure hymns to take her virgin ear; +Nor sporting with the joyous company +Of youths and maids, who at the neighbouring shrine +Of Aphrodite served. Nor dance nor song +Allured me, nor the pleasant days of youth +And twilights 'mid the vines. They held me cold +Who were my friends in childhood. For my soul +Was virginal, and at the virgin shrine +I knelt, athirst for knowledge. Day by day +The long cold ritual sped, the liturgies +Were done, the barren hymns of praise went up +Before the goddess, and the ecstasy +Of faith possessed me wholly, till almost +I knew not I was woman. Yet I knew +That I was fair to see, and fit to share +Some natural honest love, and bear the load +Of children like the rest; only my soul +Was lost in higher yearnings. + Like a god, +He burst upon those pallid lifeless days, +Bringing fresh airs and salt, as from the sea, +And wrecked my life. How should a virgin know +Deceit, who never at the joyous shrine +Of Cypris knelt, but ever lived apart, +And so grew guilty? For if I had spent +My days among the throng, either my fault +Were blameless, or undone. For innocence +The tempter spreads his net. For innocence +The gods keep all their terrors. Innocence +It is that bears the burden, which for guilt +Is lightened, and the spoiler goes his way, +Uncaring, joyous, leaving her alone, +The victim and unfriended. + Was it just +In her, my mistress, who had had my youth, +To wreak such vengeance on me? I had erred, +It may be; but on him, whose was the guilt, +No heaven-sent vengeance lighted, but he sped +Away to other hearts across the deep, +Careless and free; but me, the cold stern eyes +Of the pure goddess withered; and the scorn +Of maids, despised before, and the great blank +Of love, whose love was gone--this wrung my heart, +And froze my blood; set on my brow despair, +And turned my gaze to stone, and filled my eyes +With horror, and stiffened the soft curls which once +Lay smooth and fair into such snake-like rings +As made my aspect fearful. All who saw, +Shrank from me and grew cold, and felt the warm, +Full tide of life freeze in them, seeing in me +Love's work, who sat wrapt up and lost in shame, +As in a cloak, consuming my own heart, +And was in hell already. As they gazed +Upon me, my despair looked forth so cold +From out my eyes, that if some spoiler came +Fresh from his wickedness, and looked on them, +Their glare would strike him dead; and those fair curls +Which once the accursed toyed with, grew to be +The poisonous things thou seest; and so, with hate +Of man's injustice and the gods', who knew +Me blameless, and yet punished me; and sick +Of life and love, and loathing earth and sky, +And feeding on my sorrow, Hate at last +Left me a Fury. + Ah, the load of life +Which lives for hatred! We are made to love-- +We women, and the injury which turns +The honey of our lives to gall, transforms +The angel to the fiend. For it is sweet +To know the dreadful sense of strength, and smite +And leave the tyrant dead with a glance; ay! sweet, +In that fierce lust of power, to slay the life +Which harmed not, when the suppliants' cry ascends +To ears which hate has deafened. So I lived +Long time in misery; to my sleepless eyes +No healing slumbers coming; but at length, +Zeus and the goddess pitying, I knew +Soft rest once more veiling my dreadful gaze +In peaceful slumbers. Then a blessed dream +I dreamt. For, lo! a god-like knight in mail +Of gold, who sheared with his keen flashing blade; +With scarce a pang of pain, the visage cold +Which too great sorrow left me; at one stroke +Clean from the trunk, and then o'er land and sea, +Invisible, sped with winged heels, to where, +Upon a sea-worn cape, a fair young maid, +More blameless even than I was, chained and bound, +Waited a monster from the deep and stood +In innocent nakedness. Then, as he rose, +Loathsome, from out the depths, a monstrous growth, +A creature wholly serpent, partly man, +The wrongs that I had known, stronger than death, +Rose up with such black hate in me again, +And wreathed such hissing poison through my hair, +And shot such deadly glances from my eyes, +That nought that saw might live. And the vile worm +Was slain, and she delivered. Then I dreamt +My mistress, whom I thought so stern to me, +Athene, set those dreadful staring eyes, +And that despairing visage, on her shield +Of chastity, and bears it evermore +To fright the waverer from the wrong he would, +And strike the unrepenting spoiler, dead." + + Then for a little paused she, while I saw +Again her eyes grown dreadful, till once more, +And with a softer glance: + "From that blest dream +I woke not on the earth, but only here. +And now my pain is lightened since I know +My dream, which was a dream within the dream +Which is our life, fulfilled. And I have saved +Another through my suffering, and through her +A people. Oh, strange chain of sacrifice, +That binds an innocent life, and from its blood +And sorrow works out joy! Oh, mystery +Of pain and evil! wrong grown salutary, +And mighty to redeem! If thou shouldst see +A woman on the earth, who pays to-day +Like penalty of sin, and the new gods +(For after Saturn, Zeus ruled; after him +It may be there are others) love to take +The tender heart of girlhood, and to immure +Within a cold and cloistered cell the life +Which nature meant to bless, and if Love come +Hold her accursed; or to some poor maid, +Forlorn and trusting, still the tempter comes +And works his wrong, and leaves her in despair +And shame and all abhorrence, while he goes +His way unpunished,--if thou know her eyes +Freeze thee like mine--oh! bid her lose her pain +In succouring others--say to her that Time +And Death have healing hands, and here there comes +To the forgiven transgressor only pain +Enough to chasten joy!" + And a soft tear +Trembled within her eyes, and her sweet gaze +Was as the Magdalen's, the horror gone +And a great radiance come. + + + + + Then as I passed +To upper air, I saw two figures rise +Together, one a woman with a grave +Fair face not all unhappy, and the robes +And presence of a queen; and with her walked +The fairest youth that ever maiden's dream +Conceived. And as they came, the throng of ghosts, +For these who were not wholly ghosts, arose, +And did them homage. Not the chain of love +Bound them, but such calm kinship as is bred +Of long and difficult pilgrimages borne +Through common perils by two souls which share +A common weary exile. Nor as ghosts +These showed, but rather like two lives which hung +Suspended in a trance. A halo of life +Played round them, and they brought a sweet brisk air +Tasting of earth and heaven, like sojourners +Who stayed but for awhile, and knew a swift +Release await them. First the youth it was +Who spake thus as they passed: + "Dread Queen, once more +I feel life stir within me, and my blood +Run faster, while a new strange cycle turns +And grows completed. Soon on the dear earth +Under the lively light of fuller day, +I shall revive me of my wound; and thou, +Passing with me yon cold and lifeless stream, +And the grim monster who will fawn on thee, +Shalt issue in royal pomp, and wreathed with flowers, +Upon the cheerful earth, leaving behind +A deeper winter for the ghosts who dwell +Within these sunless haunts; and I shall lie +Once more within loved arms, and thou shalt see +Thy early home, and kiss thy mother's cheek, +And be a girl again. But not for long; +For ere the bounteous Autumn spreads her hues +Of gold and purple, a cold voice will call +And bring us to these wintry lands once more, +As erst so often. Blest are we, indeed, +Above the rest, and yet I would I knew +The careless joys of old. + For in hot youth, +Oh, it was sweet to greet the balmy night +That was love's nurse, and feel the weary eyes +Closed by soft kisses,--sweet at early dawn +To wake refreshed and, scarce from loving arms +Leaping, to issue forth, with winding horn, +By dewy heath and brake, and taste the fair +Young breath of early morning; and 'twas sweet +To chase the bounding quarry all day long +With my true hounds and rapid steed, and gay +Companions of my youth, and with the eve +To turn home laden with the spoil, and take +The banquet which awaited, and sweet wine +Poured out, and kisses pressed on loving lips; +Circled by snowy arms. Oh, it was sweet +To be alive and young! + For sure it is +The gods gave not quick pulses and hot blood +And strength and beauty for no end, but would +That we should use them wisely; and the fair, +Sweet mistress of my service was, indeed, +Worthy of all observance. Oh, her eyes +When I lay bleeding! All day long we rode, +I and my youthful peers, with horse and hound, +And knew the joy of swift pursuit and toil +And peril. At the last, a fierce boar turned +At bay, and with his gleaming tusks o'erthrew +My steed, and as I fell upon the flowers, +Pierced me as with a sword. Then, as I lay, +I knew the strange slow chill which, stealing, tells +The young that it is death. Yet knew I not +Of pain or fear, only great pity, indeed, +That she should lose her love, who was so fond +And gracious. But when, lifting my dim gaze, +I saw her bend o'er me,--the lovely eyes +Suffused with tears, and her sweet smile replaced +By agonized sorrow,--for a while I stayed +Life's ebbing tide, and raised my cold, white lips, +With a faint smile, to hers. Then, with a kiss-- +One long last kiss, we mingled, and I knew +No more. + But even in death, so strong is Love, +I could not wholly die; and year by year, +When the bright springtime comes, and the earth lives, +Love opens these dread gates, and calls me forth +Across the gulf. Not here, indeed, she comes, +Being a goddess and in heaven, but smooths +My path to the old earth, where still I know +Once more the sweet lost days, and once again +Blossom on that soft breast, and am again +A youth, and rapt in love; and yet not all +As careless as of yore; but seem to know +The early spring of passion, tamed by time +And suffering, to a calmer, fuller flow, +Less fitful, but more strong." + Then the sad Queen +"Fair youth, thy lot I know, for I am old +As the old earth and yet as young as is +The budding spring, and I was here a Queen, +When Love was not or Time, and to my arms +Thou camest as a little child, to dwell +Within the halls of Death, for without Death +There were nor Birth nor Love, nor would Life yearn +To lose itself within another life, +And dying, to be born. I, too, have died +For love in part, and live again through love; +For in the far-off years, when Time was young, +And Love unborn on earth, and Zeus in heaven +Ruled, a young sovereign; I, a maiden, dwelt +With dread Demeter on the lovely plains +Of sunny Sicily. There, day by day, +I sported with the maiden goddesses, +In virgin freedom. Budding age made gay +Our lightsome feet, and on the flowery slopes +We wandered daily, gathering flowers to weave +In careless garlands for our locks, and passed +The days in innocent gladness. Thought of Love +There came not to us, for as yet the earth +Was virginal, nor yet had Eros come +With his delicious pain. + And one fair morn-- +Not all the ages blot it--on the side +Of AEtna we were straying. There was then +Summer nor winter, springtide nor the time +Of harvest, but the soft unfailing sun +Shone always, and the sowing time was one +With reaping; fruit and flower together sprung +Upon the trees; and blade and ripened ear +Together clothed the plains. There, as I strayed, +Sudden a black cloud down the rugged side +Of AEtna, mixed with fire and dreadful sound +Of thunder, rolled around me, and I heard +The maids who were my fellows turn and flee +With shrieks and cries for me. + But I, I knew +No terror while the god o'ershadowed me, +Hiding my life in his, nor when I wept +My flowers all withered, and my blood ran slow +Within a wintry land. Some voice there was +Which said, 'Fear not. Thou shalt return and see +Thy mother again, only a little while +Fate wills that thou shouldst tarry, and become +Queen of another world. Thou seest that all +Thy flowers are faded. They shall live again +On earth, as thou shalt, as thou livest now +The Life of Death--for what is Death but Life +Suspended as in sleep? The changeless rule +Where life was constant, and the sun o'erhead, +Blazed forth for ever, changes and is hidden +Awhile. This region which thou seest, where all +The trees are lifeless, and the flowers are dead, +Is but the self-same earth on which erewhile +Thou sportedst fancy free.' + So, without fear +I wandered on this bare land, seeing far +Upon the sky the peaks of my own hills +And crests of my own woods. Till, when I grew +Hungered, ere yet another form I saw; +Along the silent alleys journeying, +And leafless groves; a fair and mystic tree +Rose like a heart in shape, and 'mid its leaves +One golden mystic fruit with a fair seed +Hid in it. This, with childish hand, I took +And ate, and straight I knew the tree was Life, +And the fruit Death, and the hid seed was Love. + + Ah, sweet strange fruit! the which if any taste +They may no longer keep their lives of old +Or their own selves unchanged, but some weird change +And subtle alchemy comes which can transmute +The blood, and mould the spirits of gods and men +In some new magical form. Not as before, +Our life comes to us, though the passion cools, +No, never as before. My mother came +Too late to seek me. She had power to raise +A life from out Death's grasp, but from the arms +Of Love she might not take me, nor undo +Love's past for all her strength. She came and sought +With fires her daughter over land and sea, +Beyond the paths of all the setting stars, +In vain, and over all the earth in vain, +Seeking whom love disguised. Then on all lands +She cast the spell of barrenness; the wheat +Was blighted in the ear, the purple grapes +Blushed no more on the vines, and all the gods +Were sorrowful, seeing the load of ill +My rape had laid on men. Last, Zeus himself, +Pitying the evil that was done, sent forth +His messenger beyond the western rim +To fetch me back to earth. + But not the same +He found me who had eaten of Love's seed, +But changed into another; nor could his power +Prevail to keep me wholly on the earth, +Or make me maid again. The wintry life +Is homelier often than the summer blaze +Of happiness unclouded; so, when Spring +Comes on the world, I, coming, cross with thee, +Year after year, the cruel icy stream; +And leave this anxious sceptre and the shades +Of those in hell, or those for whom, though blest, +No Spring comes, till the last great Spring which brings +New heavens and new earth; and lay my head +Upon my mother's bosom, and grow young, +And am a girl again. + A soft air breathes +Across the stream and fills these barren fields +With the sweet odours of the earth. I know +Again the perfume of the violets +Which bloom on AEtna's side. Soon we shall pass +Together to our home, while round our feet +The crocus flames like gold, the wind-flowers white +Wave their soft petals on the breeze, and all +The choir of flowers lift up their silent song +To the unclouded heavens. Thou, fair boy, +Shalt lie within thy love's white arms again, +And I within my mother's. Sweet is Love +In ceasing and renewal; nay, in these +It lives and has its being. Thou couldst not keep +Thy youth as now, if always on the breast +Of love too late a lingerer thou hadst known +Possession sate thee. Nor might I have kept +My mother's heart, if I had lived to ripe +And wither on the stalk. Time calls and Change +Commands both men and gods, and speeds us on +We know not whither; but the old earth smiles +Spring after Spring, and the seed bursts again +Out of its prison mould, and the dead lives +Renew themselves, and rise aloft and soar +And are transformed, clothing themselves with change +Till the last change be done." + As thus she spake, +I saw a gleam of light flash from the eyes +Of all the listening shades, and a great joy +Thrill through the realms of Death. + + + + + And then again +A youthful shade I saw, a comely boy, +With lip and cheek just touched with manly down, +And strong limbs wearing Spring; in mien and garb +A youthful chieftain, with a perfect face +Of fresh young beauty, clustered curls divine, +And chiselled features like a sculptured god, +But warm and breathing life; only the eyes, +The fair large eyes, were full of dreaming thought, +And seemed to gaze beyond the world of sight, +On a hid world of beauty. Him I stayed, +Accosting with soft words of courtesy; +And, on a bank of scentless flowers reclined, +He answered thus: + "Not for the garish sun +I long, nor for the splendours of high noon +In this dim land I languish; for of yore +Full often, when the swift chase swept along +Through the brisk morn, or when my comrades called +To wrestling, or the foot-race, or to cleave +The sunny stream, I loved to walk apart, +Self-centred, sole; and when the laughing girls +To some fair stripling's oaten melody +Made ready for the dance, I heeded not; +Nor when to the loud trumpet's blast and blare +My peers rode forth to battle. For, one eve, +In Latmos, after a long day in June, +I stayed to rest me on a sylvan hill, +Where often youth and maid were wont to meet +Towards moonrise; and deep slumber fell on me +Musing on Love, just as the ruddy orb +Rose on the lucid night, set in a frame +Of blooming myrtle and sharp tremulous plane; +Deep slumber fell, and loosed my limbs in rest. + + Then, as the full orb poised upon the peak, +There came a lovely vision of a maid, +Who seemed to step as from a golden car +Out of the low-hung moon. No mortal form, +Such as ofttimes of yore I knew and clasped +At twilight 'mid the vines at the mad feast +Of Dionysus, or the fair maids cold +Who streamed in white processions to the shrine +Of the chaste Virgin Goddess; but a shape +Richer and yet more pure. No thinnest veil +Obscured her; but each exquisite limb revealed, +Gleamed like a golden statue subtly wrought +By a great sculptor on the architrave +Of some high temple-front--only in her +The form was soft and warm, and charged with life, +And breathing. As I seemed to gaze on her, +Nearer she drew and gazed; and as I lay +Supine, as in a spell, the radiance stooped +And kissed me on the lips, a chaste, sweet kiss, +Which drew my spirit with it. So I slept +Each night upon the hill, until the dawn +Came in her silver chariot from the East, +And chased my Love away. But ever thus +Dissolved in love as in a heaven-sent dream, +Whenever the bright circle of the moon +Climbed from the hills, whether in leafy June +Or harvest-tide, or when they leapt and pressed +Red-thighed the spouting must, I walked apart +From all, and took no thought for mortal maid, +Nor nimble joys of youth; but night by night +I stole, when all were sleeping, to the hill, +And slumbered and was blest; until I grew +Possest by love so deep, I seemed to live +In slumber only, while the waking day +Showed faint as any vision. + So I turned +Paler and paler with the months, and climbed +The steep with laboured steps and difficult breath, +But still I climbed. Ay, though the wintry frost +Chained fast the streams and whitened all the fields, +I sought my mistress through the leafless groves, +And slumbered and was happy, till the dawn +Returning found me stretched out, cold and stark, +With life's fire nigh burnt out. Till one clear night, +When the birds shivered in the pines, and all +The inner heavens stood open, lo! she came, +Brighter and kinder still, and kissed my eyes +And half-closed lips, and drew my soul through them, +And in one precious ecstasy dissolved +My life. And thenceforth, ever on the hill +I lie unseen of man; a cold, white form, +Still young, through all the ages; but my soul, +Clothed in this thin presentment of old days, +Walks this dim land, where never moonrise comes, +Nor day-break, but a twilight waiting-time, +No more; and, ah! how weary! Yet I judge +My lot a higher far than his who spends +His youth on swift hot pleasure, quickly past; +Or theirs, my equals', who through long calm years +Grew sleek in dull content of wedded lives +And fair-grown offspring. Many a day for them, +While I was wandering here, and my bones bleached +Upon the rocks, the sweet autumnal sun +Beamed, and the grapes grew purple. Many a day +They heaped up gold, they knelt at festivals, +They waxed in high report and fame of men, +They gave their girls in marriage; while for me +Upon the untrodden peaks, the cold, grey morn, +The snows, the rains, the winds, the untempered blaze, +Beat year by year, until I turned to stone, +And the great eagles shrieked at me, and wheeled +Affrighted. Yet I judge it better indeed +To seek in life, as now I know I sought, +Some fair impossible Love, which slays our life, +Some fair ideal raised too high for man; +And failing to grow mad, and cease to be, +Than to decline, as they do who have found +Broad-paunched content and weal and happiness: +And so an end. For one day, as I know, +The high aim unfulfilled fulfils itself; +The deep, unsatisfied thirst is satisfied; +And through this twilight, broken suddenly, +The inmost heaven, the lucent stars of God, +The Moon of Love, the Sun of Life; and I, +I who pine here--I on the Latmian hill +Shall soar aloft and find them." + With the word, +There beamed a shaft of dawn athwart the skies, +And straight the sentinel thrush within the yew +Sang out reveille to the hosts of day, +Soldierly; and the pomp and rush of life +Began once more, and left me there alone +Amid the awaking world. + + + + + Nay, not alone. +One fair shade lingered in the fuller day, +The last to come, when now my dream had grown +Half mixed with waking thoughts, as grows a dream +In summer mornings when the broader light +Dazzles the sleeper's eyes; and is most fair +Of all and best remembered, and becomes +Part of our waking life, when older dreams +Grow fainter, and are fled. So this remained +The fairest of the visions that I knew, +Most precious and most dear. + The increasing light +Shone through her, finer than the thinnest shade, +And yet most full of beauty; golden wings, +From her fair shoulders springing, seemed to lift +Her stainless feet from the cold ground and snatch +Their wearer into air; and in her eyes +Was such fair glance as comes from virgin love, +Long chastened and triumphant. Every trace +Of earth had vanished from her, and she showed +As one who walks a saint already in life, +Virgin or mother. Immortality +Breathed from those radiant eyes which yet had passed +Between the gates of death. I seemed to hear +The Soul of mortals speaking: + "I was born +Of a great race and mighty, and was grown +Fair, as they said, and good, and kept a life +Pure from all stain of passion. Love I knew not, +Who was absorbed in duty; and the Mother +Of gods and men, seeing my life more calm +Than human, hating my impassive heart, +Sent down her perfect son in wrath to earth, +And bade him break me. + But when Eros came, +It did repent him of the task, for Love +Is kin to Duty. + And within my life +I knew miraculous change, and a soft flame +Wherefrom the snows of Duty flushed to rose, +And the chill icy flow of mind was turned +To a warm stream of passion. Long I lived +Not knowing what had been, nor recognized +A Presence walking with me through my life, +As if by night, his face and form concealed: +A gracious voice alone, which none but I +Might hear, sustained me, and its name was Love. + + Not as the earthly loves which throb and flush +Round earthly shrines was mine, but a pure spirit, +Lovelier than all embodied love, more pure +And wonderful; but never on his eyes +I looked, which still were hidden, and I knew not +The fashion of his nature; for by night, +When visual eyes are blind, but the soul sees, +Came he, and bade me seek not to enquire +Or whence he came or wherefore. Nor knew I +His name. And always ere the coming day, +As if he were the Sun-god, lingering +With some too well-loved maiden, he would rise +And vanish until eve. But all my being +Thrilled with my fair unearthly visitant +To higher duty and more glorious meed +Of action than of old, for it was Love +That came to me, who might not know his name. + + Thus, ever rapt by dreams divine, I knew +The scorn that comes from weaker souls, which miss, +Being too low of nature, the great joy +Revealed to others higher; nay, my sisters, +Who being of one blood with me, made choice +To tread the lower ways of daily life, +Grew jealous of me, bidding me take heed +Lest haply 'twas some monstrous fiend I loved, +Such as in fable ofttimes sought and won +The innocent hearts of maids. Long time I held +My love too dear for doubt, who was so sweet +And lovable. But at the last the sneers, +The mystery which hid him, the swift flight +Before the coming dawn, the shape concealed, +The curious girlish heart, these worked on me +With an unsatisfied thirst. Not his own words: +'Dear, I am with thee only while I keep +My visage hidden; and if thou once shouldst see +My face, I must forsake thee: the high gods +Link Love with Faith, and he withdraws himself +From the full gaze of Knowledge'--not even these +Could cure me of my longing, or the fear +Those mocking voices worked; who fain would learn +The worst that might befall. + And one sad night, +Just as the day leapt from the hills and brought +The hour when he should go: with tremulous hands, +Lighting my midnight lamp in fear, I stood +Long time uncertain, and at length turned round +And gazed upon my love. He lay asleep, +And oh, how fair he was! The flickering light +Fell on the fairest of the gods, stretched out +In happy slumber. Looking on his locks +Of gold, and faultless face and smile, and limbs +Made perfect, a great joy and trembling took me +Who was most blest of women, and in awe +And fear I stooped to kiss him. One warm drop-- +From the full lamp within my trembling hand, +Or a glad tear from my too happy eyes, +Fell on his shoulder. + Then the god unclosed +His lovely eyes, and with great pity spake: +'Farewell! There is no Love except with Faith, +And thine is dead! Farewell! I come no more.' +And straightway from the hills the full red sun +Leapt up, and as I clasped my love again, +The lovely vision faded from his place, +And came no more. + Then I, with breaking heart, +Knowing my life laid waste by my own hand, +Went forth and would have sought to hide my life +Within the stream of Death; but Death came not +To aid me who not yet was meet for Death. + + Then finding that Love came not back to me, +I thought that in the temples of the gods +Haply he dwelt, and so from fane to fane +I wandered over earth, and knelt in each, +Enquiring for my Love; and I would ask +The priests and worshippers, 'Is this Love's shrine? +Sirs, have you seen the god?' But never at all +I found him. For some answered, 'This is called +The Shrine of Knowledge;' and another, 'This, +The Shrine of Beauty;' and another, 'Strength;' +And yet another, 'Youth.' And I would kneel +And say a prayer to my Love, and rise +And seek another. Long, o'er land and sea, +I wandered, till I was not young or fair, +Grown wretched, seeking my lost Love; and last, +Came to the smiling, hateful shrine where ruled +The queen of earthly love and all delight, +Cypris, but knelt not there, but asked of one +Who seemed her priest, if Eros dwelt with her. + + Then to the subtle-smiling goddess' self +They led me. She with hatred in her eyes: +'What! thou to seek for Love, who art grown thin +And pale with watching! He is not for thee. +What Love is left for such? Thou didst despise +Love, and didst dwell apart. Love sits within +The young maid's eyes, making them beautiful. +Love is for youth, and joy, and happiness; +And not for withered lives. Ho! bind her fast. +Take her and set her to the vilest tasks, +And bend her pride by solitude and tears, +Who will not kneel to me, but dares to seek +A disembodied love. My son has gone +And left thee for thy fault, and thou shalt know +The misery of my thralls.' + Then in her house +They bound me to hard tasks and vile, and kept +My life from honour, chained among her slaves +And lowest ministers, taking despite +And injury for food, and set to bind +Their wounds whom she had tortured, and to feed +The pitiful lives which in her prisons pent +Languished in hopeless pain. There is no sight +Of suffering but I saw it, and was set +To succour it; and all my woman's heart +Was torn with the ineffable miseries +Which love and life have worked; and dwelt long time +In groanings and in tears. + And then, oh joy! +Oh miracle! once more at length again +I felt Love's arms around me, and the kiss +Of Love upon my lips, and in the chill +Of deepest prison cells, 'mid vilest tasks, +The glow of his sweet breath, and the warm touch +Of his invisible hand, and his sweet voice, +Ay, sweeter than of old, and tenderer, +Speak to me, pierce me, hold me, fold me round +With arms Divine, till all the sordid earth +Was hued like heaven, and Life's dull prison-house +Turned to a golden palace, and those low tasks +Grew to be higher works and nobler gains +Than any gains of knowledge, and at last +He whispered softly, 'Dear, unclose thine eyes. +Thou mayst look on me now. I go no more, +But am thine own for ever.' + Then with wings +Of gold we soared, I looking in his eyes, +Over yon dark broad river, and this dim land, +Scarce for an instant staying till we reached +The inmost courts of heaven. + But sometimes still +I come here for a little, and speak a word +Of peace to those who wait. The slow wheel turns, +The cycles round themselves and grow complete, +The world's year whitens to the harvest-tide, +And one word only am I sent to say +To those dear souls, who wait here, or who now +Breathe earthly air--one universal word +To all things living, and the word is 'Love.'" + + Then soared she visibly before my gaze, +And the heavens took her, and I knew my eyes +Had seen the soul of man, the deathless soul, +Defeated, struggling, purified, and blest. + + + + + Then all the choir of happy waiting shades, +Heroes and queens, fair maidens and brave youths, +Swept by me, rhythmic, slow, as if they trod +Some unheard measure, passing where I stood +In fair procession, each with a faint smile +Upon the lip, signing "Farewell, oh shade! +It shall be well with thee, as 'tis with us, +If only thou art true. The world of Life, +The world of Death, are but opposing sides +Of one great orb, and the Light shines on both. +Oh, happy happy shade! Farewell! Farewell!" +And so they passed away. + + + + + END OF BOOK II. + + + + + BOOK III. + + OLYMPUS. + + + + + But I, my gaze +Following the soaring soul which now was lost +In the awakening skies, floated with her, +As in a trance, beyond the golden gates +Which separate Earth from Heaven; and to my thought +Gladdened by that broad effluence of light, +This old earth seemed transfigured, and the fields, +So dim and bare, grew green and clothed themselves +With lustrous hues. A fine ethereal air +Played round me as I mused, and filled the soul +With an ineffable content. What need +Of words to tell of things unreached by words? +Or seek to engrave upon the treacherous thought +The fair and fugitive fancies of a dream, +Which vanish ere we fix them? + But methinks +He knows the scene, who knows the one fair day, +One only and no more, which year by year +In springtime comes, when lingering winter flies, +And lo! the trees blossom in white and pink. +And golden clusters, and the glades are filled +With delicate primrose and deep odorous beds +Of violets, and on the tufted meads +With kingcups starred, and cowslip bells, and blue +Sweet hyacinths, and frail anemones, +The broad West wind breathes softly, and the air +Is tremulous with the lark, and thro' the woods +The soft full-throated thrushes all day long +Flood the green dells with joy, and thro' the dry +Brown fields the sower strides, sowing his seed, +And all is life and song. Or he who first, +Whether in fair free boyhood, when the world +Is his to choose, or when his fuller life +Beats to another life, or afterwards, +Keeping his youth within his children's eyes, +Looks on the snow-clad everlasting hills, +And marks the sunset smite them, and is glad +Of the beautiful fair world. + A springtide land +It seemed, where East winds came not. Sweetest song +Was everywhere, by glade or sunny plain; +And thro' the golden valleys winding streams +Rippled in glancing silver, and above, +The blue hills rose, and over all a peak, +White, awful, with a constant fleece of cloud +Veiling its summit, towered. Unfailing Day +Lighted it, for no turn of dawn and eve +Came there, nor changing seasons, but a broad +Fixed joy of Being, undisturbed by Time. + + There, in a happy glade shut in by groves +Of laurel and sweet myrtle, on a green +And flower-lit lawn, I seemed to see the ghosts +Of the old gods. Upon the gentle slope +Of a fair hill, a joyous company, +The Immortals lay. Hard by, a murmurous stream +Fell through the flowers; below them, space on space, +Laughed the immeasurable plains; beyond, +The mystic mountain soared. Height after height +Of bare rock ledges left the climbing pines, +And reared their giddy, shining terraces +Into the ethereal air. Above, the snows +Of the white summit cleft the fleece of cloud +Which always clothed it round. + Ah, fail-and sweet, +Yet with a ghostly fairness, fine and thin, +Those godlike Presences. Not dreams indeed, +But something dream-like, were they. Blessed Shades +Heroic and Divine, as when, in days +When Man was young, and Time, the vivid thought +Translated into Form the unattained +Impossible Beauty of men's dreams, and fixed +The Loveliness in marble. + As with awe +Following my spotless guide, I stood apart, +Not daring to draw near; a shining form +Rose from the throng, and floated, light as air, +To where I trembled. And I knew the face +And form of Artemis, the fair, the pure, +The undefiled. A crescent silvery moon +Shone thro' her locks, and by her side she bore +A quiver of golden darts. At sight of whom +I felt a sudden chill, like his who once +Looked upon her and died; yet could not fear, +Seeing how fair she was. Her sweet voice rang +Clear as a bird's: + "Mortal, what fate hath brought +Thee hither, uncleansed by death? How canst thou breathe +Immortal air, being mortal? Yet fear not, +Since thou art come. For we too are of earth +Whom here thou seest: there were not a heaven +Were there no earth, nor gods, had men not been, +But each the complement of each and grown +The other's creature, is and has its being, +A double essence, Human and Divine. +So that the God is hidden in the man, +And something Human bounds and forms the God; +Which else had shown too great and undefined +For mortal sight, and having no human eye +To see it, were unknown. But we who bore +Sway of old time, we were but attributes +[3]Of the great God who is all Things that be-- +The Pillar of the Earth and starry Sky, +The Depth of the great Deep; the Sun, the Moon, +The Word which Makes; the All-compelling Love-- +For all Things lie within His Infinite Form." + + Even as she spake, a throng of heavenly forms +Floated around me, filling all my soul +With fair unearthly beauty, and the air +With such ambrosial perfume as is born. +When morning bursts upon a tropic sea, +From boundless wastes of flowers; and as I knelt +In rapture, lo! the same clear voice again +From out the throng of gods: + "Those whom thou seest +Were even as I, embodiments of Him +Who is the Centre of all Life: myself +The Maiden-Queen of Purity; and Strength, +Divine when unabused; Love too, the Spring +And Cause of Things; and Knowledge, which lays bare +Their secret; and calm Duty, Queen of all, +And Motherhood in one; and Youth, which bears, +Beauty of Form and Life and Light, and breathes +The breath of Inspiration; and the Soul, +The particle of God, sent down to man, +Which doth in turn reveal the world and God. + + Wherefore it is men called on Artemis, +The refuge of young souls; for still in age +They keep some dim reflection uneffaced +Of a Diviner Purity than comes +To the spring days of youth, when all the world +Smiles, and the rapid blood thro' the young veins +Courses, and all is glad; yet knowing too +That innocence is young--before the soil +And smirch of sadder knowledge, settling on it, +Sully its primal whiteness. So they knelt +At my white shrines, the eager vigorous youths, +To whom life's road showed like a dewy field +In early summer dawns, when to the sound +Of youth's clear voice, and to the cheerful rush +Of the tumultuous feet and clamorous tongues +Careering onwards, fair and dappled fawns, +Strange birds with jewelled plumes, fierce spotted pards, +Rise in the joyous chase, to be caught and bound +By the young conqueror; nor yet the charm +Of sensual ease allures. And they knelt too, +The pure sweet maidens fair and fancy-free, +Whose innocent virgin hearts shrank from the touch +Of passion as from wrong--sweet moonlit lives +Which fade, and pale, and vanish, in the glare +Of Love's hot noontide: these came robed in white, +With holy hymns and soaring liturgies: +And so men fabled me, a huntress now, +Borne thro' the flying woodlands, fair and free; +And now the pale cold Moon, Light without warmth, +Zeal without touch of passion, heavenly love +For human, and the altar for the home. + + But oh, how sweet it was to take the love +And awe of my young worshippers; to watch +The pure young gaze and hear the pure young voice +Mount in the hymn, or see the gay troop come +With the first dawn of day, brushing the dew +From the unpolluted fields, and wake to song +The slumbering birds; strong in their innocence! +I did not envy any goddess of all +The Olympian company her votaries! +Ah, happy days of old which now are gone! +A memory and a dream! for now on earth +I rule no longer o'er young willing hearts +In voluntary fealty, which should cease +When Love, with fiery accents calling, woke +The slumbering soul; as now it should for those +Who kneel before the purer, sadder shrine +Which has replaced my own. But ah! too oft, +Not always, but too often, shut from life +Within pale life-long cloisters and the bars +Of deadly convent prisons, year by year, +Age after age, the white souls fade and pine +Which simulate the joyous service free +Of those young worshippers. I would that I +Might loose the captives' chain; or Herakles, +Who was a mortal once." + + + + + But he who stood +Colossal at my side: + "I toil no more +On earth, nor wield again the mighty strength +Which Zeus once gave me for the cure of ill. +I have run my race; I have done my work; I rest +For ever from the toilsome days I gave +To the suffering race of men. And yet, indeed, +Methinks they suffer still. Tyrannous growths +And monstrous vex them still. Pestilence lurks +And sweeps them down. Treacheries come, and wars, +And slay them still. Vaulting ambition leaps +And falls in bloodshed still. But I am here +At rest, and no man kneels to me, or keeps +Reverence for strength mighty yet unabused-- +Strength which is Power, God's choicest gift, more rare +And precious than all Beauty, or the charm +Of Wisdom, since it is the instrument +Thro' which all Nature works. For now the earth +Is full of meekness, and a new God rules, +Teaching strange precepts of humility +And mercy and forgiveness. Yet I trow +There is no lack of bloodshed and deceit +And groanings, and the tyrant works his wrong +Even as of old; but now there is no arm +Like mine, made strong by Zeus, to beat him down, +Him and his wrong together. Yet I know +I am not all discrowned. The strong brave souls, +The manly tender hearts, whom tale of wrong +To woman or child, to all weak things and small, +Fires like a blow; calling the righteous flush +Of anger to the brow; knotting the cords +Of muscle on the arm; with one desire +To hew the spoiler down, and make an end, +And go their way for others; making light +Of toil and pain, and too laborious days, +And peril; beat unchanged, albeit they serve +A Lord of meekness. For the world still needs +Its champion as of old, and finds him still. +Not always now with mighty sinews and thews +Like mine, though still these profit, but keen brain +And voice to move men's souls to love the right +And hate the wrong; even tho' the bodily form +Be weak, of giant strength, strong to assail +The hydra heads of Evil, and to slay +The monsters that now waste them: Ignorance, +Self-seeking, coward fears, the hate of Man, +Disguised as love of God. These there are still +With task as hard as mine. For what was it +To strive with bodily ills, and do great deeds +Of daring and of strength, and bear the crown, +To his who wages lifelong, doubtful strife +With an impalpable foe; conquering indeed, +But, ere he hears the paean or sees the pomp +Laid low in the arms of Death? And tho' men cease +To worship at my shrine, yet not the less +I hold, it is the toils I knew, the pains +I bore for others, which have kept the heart +Of manhood undefiled, and nerved the arm +Of sacrifice, and made the martyr strong +To do and bear, and taught the race of men +How godlike 'tis to suffer thro' life, and die +At last for others' good!" + The strong god ceased, +And stood a little, musing; blest indeed, +But bearing, as it seemed, some faintest trace +Of earthly struggle still, not the gay ease +Of the elder heaven-born gods. + + + + + And then there came +Beauty and Joy in one, bearing the form +Of woman. How to reach with halting words +That infinite Perfection? All have known +The breathing marbles which the Greek has left +Who saw her near, and strove to fix her charms, +And exquisitely failed; or those fair forms +The Painter offered at a later shrine, +And failed. Nay, what are words?--he knows it well +Who loves, or who has loved. + She with a smile +Playing around her rosy lips; as plays +The sunbeam on a stream: + "Shall I complain +Men kneel to me no longer, taking to them +Some graver, sterner worship; grown too wise +For fleeting joys of Love? Nay, Love is Youth, +And still the world is young. Still shall I reign +Within the hearts of men, while Time shall last +And Life renews itself. All Life that is, +From the weak things of earth or sea or air, +Which creep or float for an hour; to godlike man-- +All know me and are mine. I am the source +And mother of all, both gods and men; the spring +Of Force and Joy, which, penetrating all +Within the hidden depths of the Unknown, +Sets the blind seed of Being, and from the bond +Of incomplete and dual Essences +Evolves the harmony which is Life. The world +Were dead without my rays, who am the Light +Which vivifies the world. Nay, but for me, +The universal order which attracts +Sphere unto sphere, and keeps them in their paths +For ever, were no more. All things are bound +Within my golden chain, whose name is Love. + + And if there be, indeed, some sterner souls +Or sunk in too much learning, or hedged round +By care and greed, or haply too much rapt +By pale ascetic fervours, to delight +To kneel to me, the universal voice +Scorns them as those who, missing willingly +The good that Nature offers, dwell unblest +Who might be blest, but would not. Every voice +Of bard in every age has hymned me. All +The breathing marbles, all the heavenly hues +Of painting, praise me. Even the loveless shades +Of dim monastic cloisters show some gleam, +Tho' faint, of me. Amid the busy throngs +Of cities reign I, and o'er lonely plains, +Beyond the ice-fields of the frozen North, +And the warm waves of undiscovered seas. + + For I was born out of the sparkling foam +Which lights the crest of the blue mystic wave, +Stirred by the wandering breath of Life's pure dawn +From a young soul's calm depths. There, without voice, +Stretched on the breathing curve of a young breast, +Fluttering a little, fresh from the great deep +Of life, and creamy as the opening rose, +Naked I lie, naked yet unashamed, +While youth's warm tide steals round me with a kiss, +And floods each limb with fairness. Shame I know not-- +Shame is for wrong, and not for innocence-- +The veil which Error grasps to hide itself +From the awful Eye. But I, I lie unveiled +And unashamed--the livelong day I lie, +The warm wave murmuring to me; and, all night, +Hidden in the moonlit caves of happy Sleep, +I dream until the morning and am glad. + + Why should I seek to clothe myself, and hide +The treasure of my Beauty? Shame may wait +On those for whom 'twas given. The sties of sense +Are none of mine; the brutish, loveless wrong, +The venal charm, the simulated flush +Of fleshly passion, they are none of mine, +Only corruptions of me. Yet I know +The counterfeit the stronger, since gross souls +And brutish sway the earth; and yet I hold +That sense itself is sacred, and I deem +'Twere better to grow soft and sink in sense +Than gloat o'er blood and wrong. + My kingdom is +Over infinite grades of being. All breathing things, +From the least crawling insect to the brute, +From brute to man, confess me. Yet in man +I find my worthiest worship. Where man is, +A youth and a maid, a youth and a maid, nought else +Is wanting for my temple. Every clime +Kneels to me--the long breaker swells and falls +Under the palms, mixed with the merry noise +Of savage bridals, and the straight brown limbs +Know me, and over all the endless plains +I reign, and by the tents on the hot sand +And sea-girt isles am queen, and on the side +Of silent mountains, where the white cots gleam +Upon the green hill pastures, and no sound +But the thunder of the avalanche is borne +To the listening rocks around; and in fair lands +Where all is peace; where thro' the happy hush +Of tranquil summer evenings, 'mid the corn, +Or thro' cool arches of the gadding vines, +The lovers stray together hand in hand, +Hymning my praise; and by the stately streets +Of echoing cities--over all the earth, +Palace and cot, mountain and plain and sea, +The burning South, the icy North, the old +And immemorial East, the unbounded West, +No new god comes to spoil me utterly-- +All worship and are mine!" + With a sweet smile +Upon her rosy mouth, the goddess ceased; +And when she spake no more, the silence weighed +As heavy on my soul as when it takes +Some gracious melody, and leaves the ear +Unsatisfied and longing, till the fount +Of sweetness springs again. + + + + + But while I stood +Expectant, lo! a fair pale form drew near +With front severe, and wide blue eyes which bore +Mild wisdom in their gaze. Great purity +Shone from her--not the young-eyed innocence +Of her whom first I saw, but that which comes +From wider knowledge, which restrains the tide +Of passionate youth, and leads the musing soul +By the calm deeps of Wisdom. And I knew +My eyes had seen the fair, the virgin Queen, +Who once within her shining Parthenon +Beheld the sages kneel. + She with clear voice +And coldly sweet, yet with a softness too, +As doth befit a virgin: + "She does right +To boast her sway, my sister, seeing indeed +That all things are as by a double law, +And from a double root the tree of Life +Springs up to the face of heaven. Body and Soul, +Matter and Spirit, lower joys of Sense +And higher joys of Thought, I know that both +Build up the shrine of Being. The brute sense +Leaves man a brute; but, winged with soaring thought +Mounts to high heaven. The unembodied spirit, +Dwelling alone, unmated, void of sense, +Is impotent. And yet I hold there is, +Far off, but not too far for mortal reach, +A calmer height, where, nearer to the stars, +Thought sits alone and gazes with rapt gaze, +A large-eyed maiden in a robe of white. +Who brings the light of Knowledge down, and draws +To her pontifical eyes a bridge of gold, +Which spans from earth to heaven. + For what were life, +If things of sense were all, for those large souls +And high, which grudging Nature has shut fast +Within unlovely forms, or those from whom +The circuit of the rapid gliding years +Steals the brief gift of beauty? Shall we hold, +With idle singers, all the treasure of hope +Is lost with youth--swift-fleeting, treacherous youth, +Which fades and flies before the ripening brain +Crowns life with Wisdom's crown? Nay, even in youth, +Is it not more to walk upon the heights +Alone--the cold free heights--and mark the vale +Lie breathless in the glare, or hidden and blurred +By cloud and storm; or pestilence and war +Creep on with blood and death; while the soul dwells +Apart upon the peaks, outfronts the sun +As the eagle does, and takes the coming dawn +While all the vale is dark, and knows the springs +Of tiny rivulets hurrying from the snows, +Which soon shall swell to vast resistless floods, +And feed the Oceans which divide the World? + + Oh, ecstasy! oh, wonder! oh, delight! +Which neither the slow-withering wear of Time, +That takes all else--the smooth and rounded cheek +Of youth; the lightsome step; the warm young heart +Which beats for love or friend; the treasure of hope +Immeasurable; the quick-coursing blood +Which makes it joy to be,--ay, takes them all +And leaves us naught--nor yet satiety +Born of too full possession, takes or mars! +Oh, fair delight of learning! which grows great +And stronger and more keen, for slower limbs, +And dimmer eyes and loneliness, and loss +Of lower good--wealth, friendship, ay, and Love-- +When the swift soul, turning its weary gaze +From the old vanished joys, projects itself +Into the void and floats in empty space, +Striving to reach the mystic source of Things, +The secrets of the earth and sea and air, +The Law that holds the process of the suns, +The awful depths of Mind and Thought; the prime +Unfathomable mystery of God! + + Is there, then, any who holds my worship cold +And lifeless? Nay, but 'tis the light which cheers +The waning life! Love thou thy love, brave youth! +Cleave to thy love, fair maid! it is the Law +Which dominates the world, that bids ye use +Your nature; but, when now the fuller tide +Slackens a little, turn your calmer eyes +To the fair page of Knowledge. It is power +I give, and power is precious. It is strength +To live four-square, careless of outward shows, +And self-sufficing. It is clearer sight +To know the rule of life, the Eternal scheme; +And, knowing it, to do and not to err, +And, doing, to be blest." + The calm voice soared +Higher and higher to the close; the cold +Clear accents, fired as by a hidden fire, +Glowed into life and tenderness, and throbbed +As with some spiritual ecstasy +Sweeter than that of Love. + + + + + But as they died, +I heard an ampler voice; and looking, marked +A fair and gracious form. She seemed a Queen +Who ruled o'er gods and men; the majesty +Of perfect womanhood. No opening bud +Of beauty, but the full consummate flower +Was hers; and from her mild large eyes looked forth +Gentle command, and motherhood, and home, +And pure affection. Awe and reverence +O'erspread me, as I knew my eyes had looked +On sovereign Here, mother of the gods. + + She, with clear, rounded utterance, sweet and calm +"I know Love's fruit is good and fair to see +And taste, if any gain it, and I know +How brief Life's Passion-tide, which when it ends +May change to thirst for Knowledge, and I know +How fair the realm of Mind, wherein the soul +Thirsting to know, wings its impetuous way +Beyond the bounds of Thought; and yet I hold +There is a higher bliss than these, which fits +A mortal life, compact of Body and Soul, +And therefore double-natured--a calm path +Which lies before the feet, thro' common ways +And undistinguished crowds of toiling men, +And yet is hard to tread, tho' seeming smooth, +And yet, tho' level, earns a worthier crown. + + For Knowledge is a steep which few may climb, +While Duty is a path which all may tread. +And if the Soul of Life and Thought be this, +How best to speed the mighty scheme, which still +Fares onward day by day--the Life of the World, +Which is the sum of petty lives, that live +And die so this may live--how then shall each +Of that great multitude of faithful souls +Who walk not on the heights, fulfil himself, +But by the duteous Life which looks not forth +Beyond its narrow sphere, and finds its work, +And works it out; content, this done, to fall +And perish, if Fate will, so the great Scheme +Goes onward? + Wherefore am I Queen in Heaven +And Earth, whose realm is Duty, bearing rule +More constant and more wide than those whose words +Thou heardest last. Mine are the striving souls +Of fathers toiling day by day obscure +And unrewarded, save by their own hearts, +Mid wranglings of the Forum or the mart; +Who long for joys of Thought, and yet must toil +Unmurmuring thro' dull lives from youth to age; +Who haply might have worn instead the crown +Of Honour and of Fame: mine the fair mothers +Who, for the love of children and of home, +When passion dies, expend their toilful years +In loving labour sweetened by the sense +Of Duty: mine the statesman who toils on +Thro' vigilant nights and days, guiding his State. +Yet finds no gratitude; and those white souls +Who give themselves for others all their years +In trivial tasks of Pity. The fine growths +Of Man and Time are mine, and spend themselves +For me and for the mystical End which lies +Beyond their gaze and mine, and yet is good, +Tho' hidden from men and gods. + For as the flower +Of the tiger-lily bright with varied hues +Is for a day, then fades and leaves behind +Fairness nor fruit, while the green tiny tuft +Swells to the purple of the clustering grape +Or golden waves of wheat; so lives of men +Which show most splendid; fade and are deceased +And leave no trace; while those, unmarked, unseen, +Which no man recks of, rear the stately tree +Of Knowledge, not for itself sought out, but found +In the dusty ways of life--a fairer growth +Than springs in cloistered shades; and from the sum +Of Duty, blooms sweeter and more divine +The fair ideal of the Race, than comes +From glittering gains of Learning. + Life, full life, +Full-flowered, full-fruited, reared from homely earth, +Rooted in duty, and thro' long calm years +Bearing its load of healthful energies; +Stretching its arms on all sides; fed with dews +Of cheerful sacrifice, and clouds of care, +And rain of useful tears; warmed by the sun +Of calm affection, till it breathes itself +In perfume to the heavens--this is the prize +I hold most dear, more precious than the fruit +Of Knowledge or of Love." + The goddess ceased +As dies some gracious harmony, the child +Of wedded themes which single and alone +Were discords, but united breathe a sound +Sweet as the sounds of heaven. + + + + + And then stood forth +The last of the gods I saw, the first in rank +And dignity and beauty, the young god +Who grows not old, the Light of Heaven and Earth, +The Worker from afar, who sends the fire +Of inspiration to the bard and bathes +The world in hues of heaven--the golden link +Between High God and Man. + With a sweet voice +Whose every note was sweetest melody-- +The melody has fled, the words remain-- +Apollo sang: + "I know how fair the face +Of Purity; I know the treasure of Strength; +I know the charm of Love, the calmer grace +Of Wisdom and of Duteous well-spent lives: +And yet there is a loftier height than these. + + There is a Height higher than mortal thought; +There is a Love warmer than mortal love; +There is a Life which taketh not its hues +From Earth or earthly things; and so grows pure +And higher than the petty cares of men, +And is a blessed life and glorified. + + Oh, white young souls, strain upward, upward still, +Even to the heavenly source of Purity! +Brave hearts, bear on and suffer! Strike for right, +Strong arms, and hew down wrong! The world hath need +Of all of you--the sensual wrongful world! + + Hath need of you, and of thee too, fair Love. +Oh, lovers, cling together! the old world +Is full of Hate. Sweeten it; draw in one +Two separate chords of Life; and from the bond +Of twin souls lost in Harmony create +A Fair God dwelling with you--Love, the Lord! + + Waft yourselves, yearning souls, upon the stars; +Sow yourselves on the wandering winds of space; +Watch patient all your days, if your eyes take +Some dim, cold ray of Knowledge. The dull world +Hath need of you--the purblind, slothful world! + + Live on, brave lives, chained to the narrow round +Of Duty; live, expend yourselves, and make +The orb of Being wheel onward steadfastly +Upon its path--the Lord of Life alone +Knows to what goal of Good; work on, live on: +And yet there is a higher work than yours. + + To have looked upon the face of the Unknown +And Perfect Beauty. To have heard the voice +Of Godhead in the winds and in the seas. +To have known Him in the circling of the suns, +And in the changeful fates and lives of men. + + To be fulfilled with Godhead as a cup +Filled with a precious essence, till the hand +On marble or on canvas falling, leaves +Celestial traces, or from reed or string +Draws out faint echoes of the voice Divine +That bring God nearer to a faithless world. + + Or, higher still and fairer and more blest, +To be His seer, His prophet; to be the voice +Of the Ineffable Word; to be the glass +Of the Ineffable Light, and bring them down +To bless the earth, set in a shrine of Song. + + For Knowledge is a barren tree and bare, +Bereft of God, and Duty but a word, +And Strength but Tyranny, and Love, Desire, +And Purity a folly; and the Soul, +Which brings down God to Man, the Light to the world; +He is the Maker, and is blest, is blest!" + + He ended, and I felt my soul grow faint +With too much sweetness. + In a mist of grace +They faded, that bright company, and seemed +To melt into each other and shape themselves +Into new forms, and those fair goddesses +Blent in a perfect woman--all the calm +High motherhood of Here, the sweet smile +Of Cypris, fair Athene's earnest eyes, +And the young purity of Artemis, +Blent in a perfect woman; and in her arms, +Fused by some cosmic interlacing curves +Of Beauty into a new Innocence, +A child with eyes divine, a little child, +A little child--no more. + And those great gods +Of Power and Beauty left a heavenly form +Strong not to act, but suffer; fair and meek, +Not proud and eager; with soft eyes of grace, +Not bold with joyous youth; and for the fire +Of song, and for the happy careless life, +A sorrowful pilgrimage--changed, yet the same +Only Diviner far; and keeping still +The Life God-lighted and the sacrifice. + + And when these faded wholly, at my side, +Tho' hidden before by those too-radiant forms, +I was aware once more of her, my guide +Psyche, who had not left me, floating near +On golden wings; and all the plains of heaven +Were left to us, me and my soul alone. + + Then when my thought revived again, I said +Whispering, "But Zeus I saw not, the prime Source +And Sire of all the gods." + And she, bent low +With downcast eyes: "Nay. Thou hast seen of Him +All that thine eyes can bear, in those fair forms +Which are but parts of Him and are indeed +Attributes of the Substance which supports +The Universe of Things--the Soul of the World, +The Stream which flows Eternal, from no Source +Into no Sea, His Purity, His Strength, +His Love, His Knowledge, His unchanging rule +Of Duty, thou hast seen, only a part +And not the whole, being a finite mind +Too weak for infinite thought; nor, couldst thou see +All of Him visible to mortal sight, +Wouldst thou see all His essence, since the gods-- +Glorified essences of Human mould, +Who are but Zeus made visible to men-- +See Him not wholly, only some thin edge +And halo of His glory; nor know they +What vast and unsuspected Universes +Lie beyond thought, where yet He rules, like those +Vast Suns we cannot see, round which our Sun +Moves with his system, or those darker still +Which not even thus we know, but yet exist +Tho' no eye marks, nor thought itself, and lurk +In the awful Depths of Space; or that which is +Not orbed as yet, but indiscrete, confused, +Sown thro' the void--the faintest gleam of light +Which sets itself to Be. And yet is He +There too, and rules, none seeing. But sometimes +To this our heaven, which is so like to earth +But nearer to Him, for awhile He shows +Some gleam of His own brightness, and methinks +It cometh soon; but thou, if thou shouldst gaze, +Thy Life will rush to His--the tiny spark +Absorbed in that full blaze--and what there is +Of mortal fall from thee." + But I: "Oh, soul, +What holdeth Life more precious than to know +The Giver and to die?" + Then she: "Behold! +Look upward and adore." + And with the word, +Unhasting, undelaying, gradual, sure, +The floating cloud which clothed the hidden peak +Rose slow in awful silence, laying bare +Spire after rocky spire, snow after snow, +Whiter and yet more dreadful, till at last +It left the summit clear. + Then with a bound, +In the twinkling of an eye, in the flash of a thought, +I knew an Awful Effluence of Light, +Formless, Ineffable, Perfect, burst on me +And flood my being round, and take my life +Into itself. I saw my guide bent down +Prostrate, her wings before her face; and then +No more. + + + + + But when I woke from my long trance +Behold, it was no longer Tartarus, +Nor Hades, nor Olympus, but the bare +And unideal aspect of the fields +Which Spring not yet had kissed--the strange old Earth +So far more fabulous now than in the days +When Man was young, nor yet the mystery +Of Time and Fate transformed it. From the hills, +The long night fled at last, the unclouded sun, +The dear, fair sun, leapt upward swift, and smote +My sight with rays of gold, and pierced my brain +With too much light ere my entranced eyes +Could hide themselves. + And I was on the Earth +Dreaming the dream of Life again, as late +I dreamed the dream of Death. + Another day +Dawned on the race of men; another world; +New heavens, and new earth. + + + + + And as I went +Across the lightening fields, upon a bank +I saw a single snowdrop glance, and bring +Promise of Spring; and keeping my old thought +In the old fair Hellenic vesture dressed, +I felt myself a ghost, and seemed to be +Now fair Adonis hasting to the arms +Of his lost love--now sad Persephone +Restored to mother earth--or that high shade +Orpheus, who gave up heaven to save his love, +And is rewarded--or young Marsyas, +Who spent his youth and life for song, and yet +Was happy though in torture--or the fair +And dreaming youth I saw, who still awaits, +Hopeful, the unveiling heaven, when he shall see +His fair ideal love. The birds sang blithe; +There came a tinkling from the waking fold; +And on the hillside from the cot a girl +Tripped singing with her pitcher. All the sounds +And thoughts which still are beautiful--Youth, Song, +Dawn, Spring, Renewal--and my soul was glad +Of all the freshness, and I felt again +The youth and spring-tide of the world, and thought, +Which feigned those fair and gracious fantasies. + + For every dawn that breaks brings a new world, +And every budding bosom a new life; +These fair tales, which we know so beautiful, +Show only finer than our lives to-day +Because their voice was clearer, and they found +A sacred bard to sing them. We are pent, +Who sing to-day, by all the garnered wealth +Of ages of past song. We have no more +The world to choose from, who, where'er we turn, +Tread through old thoughts and fair. Yet must we sing-- +We have no choice; and if more hard the toil +In noon, when all is clear, than in the fresh +White mists of early morn, yet do we find +Achievement its own guerdon, and at last +The rounder song of manhood grows more sweet +Than the high note of youth. + For Age, long Age! +Nought else divides us from the fresh young days +Which men call ancient; seeing that we in turn +Shall one day be Time's ancients, and inspire +The wiser, higher race, which yet shall sing +Because to sing is human, and high thought +Grows rhythmic ere its close. Nought else there is +But that weird beat of Time, which doth disjoin +To-day from Hellas. + How should any hold +Those precious scriptures only old-world tales +Of strange impossible torments and false gods; +Of men and monsters in some brainless dream, +Coherent, yet unmeaning, linked together +By some false skein of song? + Nay! evermore, +All things and thoughts, both new and old, are writ +Upon the unchanging human heart and soul. +Has Passion still no prisoners? Pine there now +No lives which fierce Love, sinking into Lust, +Has drowned at last in tears and blood--plunged down +To the lowest depths of Hell? Have not strong Will +And high Ambition rotted into Greed +And Wrong, for any, as of old, and whelmed +The struggling soul in ruin? Hell lies near +Around us as does Heaven, and in the World, +Which is our Hades, still the chequered souls +Compact of good and ill--not all accurst +Nor altogether blest--a few brief years +Travel the little journey of their lives, +They know not to what end. The weary woman +Sunk deep in ease and sated with her life, +Much loved and yet unloving, pines to-day +As Helen; still the poet strives and sings. +And hears Apollo's music, and grows dumb, +And suffers, yet is happy; still the young +Fond dreamer seeks his high ideal love, +And finds her name is Death; still doth the fair +And innocent life, bound naked to the rock, +Redeem the race; still the gay tempter goes +And leaves his victim, stone; still doth pain bind +Men's souls in closer links of lovingness, +Than Death itself can sever; still the sight +Of too great beauty blinds us, and we lose +The sense of earthly splendours, gaining Heaven. + + And still the skies are opened as of old +To the entranced gaze, ay, nearer far +And brighter than of yore; and Might is there, +And Infinite Purity is there, and high +Eternal Wisdom, and the calm clear face +Of Duty, and a higher, stronger Love +And Light in one, and a new, reverend Name, +Greater than any and combining all; +And over all, veiled with a veil of cloud, +God set far off, too bright for mortal eyes. + + And always, always, with each soul that comes +And goes, comes that fair form which was my guide, +Hovering, with golden wings and eyes divine, +Above the bed of birth, the bed of death, +Still breathing heavenly airs of deathless love. + + For while a youth is lost in soaring thought, +And while a maid grows sweet and beautiful, +And while a spring-tide coming lights the earth, +And while a child, and while a flower is born, +And while one wrong cries for redress and finds +A soul to answer, still the world is young! + + + + + THE END. + + + + + Footnotes: + [1] Euripides, "Hippolytus," lines 70-78. + [2] Virgil, "AEneid," vi. 740. + [3] See the Orphic Hymns. + + + PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, + LONDON AND BECCLES. + + + [Transcriber's Notes: + This text is hemistichia, in that the end of one stanza + is vertically aligned with the start of the next stanza. + Inconsistent Hyphenation and text retained.] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Epic of Hades, by Lewis Morris + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EPIC OF HADES *** + +***** This file should be named 38011.txt or 38011.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/0/1/38011/ + +Produced by Paul Murray, Rory OConor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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